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33 Apocalypse Ave, Thursday Morning
Jun. 20th, 2024 07:51 am"--fucker!"
It had been an eventful fewstill being SPed days in Fillory.
And now, with that warcry, Margo stumbled right back into her house, nearly tripping over the carpet as she came in. "FUCKING FUCKBALLS--"
And so on, and so forth.
[[ for irene ]]
It had been an eventful few
And now, with that warcry, Margo stumbled right back into her house, nearly tripping over the carpet as she came in. "FUCKING FUCKBALLS--"
And so on, and so forth.
[[ for irene ]]
They were finally going to do this shit.
Margo had found a bank. She'd cased the bank, like a pro. She'd checked and made damn sure there weren't any anti-Magician traps she had to worry about. (There were advantages to being locked out of her own universe. She was taking advantage of them.)
Now?
Now she and Irene just needed to work out a game plan.
She'd made cocktails, she'd ordered in take out, she'd spread the map across the table. There was nothing to do but lounge on her sofa with a martini in hand, waiting for her partner in crime to show up.
Fuck yeah.
[[ for irene, and a mad slowplay escapade based on The Magicians season 3 episode 3, 'The Losses of Magic'. TW for sexual assault references. ]]
Margo had found a bank. She'd cased the bank, like a pro. She'd checked and made damn sure there weren't any anti-Magician traps she had to worry about. (There were advantages to being locked out of her own universe. She was taking advantage of them.)
Now?
Now she and Irene just needed to work out a game plan.
She'd made cocktails, she'd ordered in take out, she'd spread the map across the table. There was nothing to do but lounge on her sofa with a martini in hand, waiting for her partner in crime to show up.
Fuck yeah.
[[ for irene, and a mad slowplay escapade based on The Magicians season 3 episode 3, 'The Losses of Magic'. TW for sexual assault references. ]]
Castle Whitespire, Fillory, Sunday
Aug. 13th, 2023 09:07 amHow the fuck had she missed this shithole? Margo had been back for just a week, and she already needed about five buckets of stiff drinks, some OTC uppers and a 12-hour fuckfest with Amaya and Irene just to get through the day.
She didn't have a single one of those things. Just a headache.
She was going to name it Tick Pickwick.
"Seriously, Tick? What is the problem here? I asked for two simple things. Pull up the fields, plant some goddamn mushrooms."
Tick fixed that infuriating customer service smile on her, and had the temerity to say, "If you will allow me to mansplain, Your Highness..."
That fucking dickhole. She was going to strangle him. Except the fairy queen was watching, and probably wouldn't let her have even that small comfort. Fuck knew the woman delighted in wandering around with Margo's goddamn eye hanging off of her wrist like a fancy Halloween bracelet.
"The farmers are hesitant because you're asking them to throw out food," Tick prattled on, gesturing nimbly to make his point, his entire bearing projecting some kind of bizarre... patronizing sycophancy. "...And replace it with, uh..."
Murder. Murder. Murder. "Inedible mushrooms, I got it," Margo said, and hoped that of the twin feelings inside of her right now, it was the rage and not the desperation that showed on her body. "And mansplaining," she added, desiring only to end the relentless, irritating chime of his fucking Tick-ness, "Is a bad thing, Tick."
"But I'm a man," Tick said. "Explaining. Is that not mansplaining? Perhaps you could womansplain to me."
She was going to commit a homicide.
( I mean it's the fucking fairies! )
[[ nfb, nfi, just catching up on bits and bobs from The Magicians season 3, episodes 1, 3 and 4. ]]
She didn't have a single one of those things. Just a headache.
She was going to name it Tick Pickwick.
"Seriously, Tick? What is the problem here? I asked for two simple things. Pull up the fields, plant some goddamn mushrooms."
Tick fixed that infuriating customer service smile on her, and had the temerity to say, "If you will allow me to mansplain, Your Highness..."
That fucking dickhole. She was going to strangle him. Except the fairy queen was watching, and probably wouldn't let her have even that small comfort. Fuck knew the woman delighted in wandering around with Margo's goddamn eye hanging off of her wrist like a fancy Halloween bracelet.
"The farmers are hesitant because you're asking them to throw out food," Tick prattled on, gesturing nimbly to make his point, his entire bearing projecting some kind of bizarre... patronizing sycophancy. "...And replace it with, uh..."
Murder. Murder. Murder. "Inedible mushrooms, I got it," Margo said, and hoped that of the twin feelings inside of her right now, it was the rage and not the desperation that showed on her body. "And mansplaining," she added, desiring only to end the relentless, irritating chime of his fucking Tick-ness, "Is a bad thing, Tick."
"But I'm a man," Tick said. "Explaining. Is that not mansplaining? Perhaps you could womansplain to me."
She was going to commit a homicide.
( I mean it's the fucking fairies! )
[[ nfb, nfi, just catching up on bits and bobs from The Magicians season 3, episodes 1, 3 and 4. ]]
From Fandom to Fillory, Saturday
Aug. 12th, 2023 05:18 pmOne minute, Margo was standing outside some fucked-up freakshack threatening bodily harm to the thing that had taken her best friend from her. She had been holding a hammer, with two axes strapped to her belt, and she had been happy to use them.
The next minute, she was standing inside the throne room of Castle Whitespire, staring at a tall, pale woman, still clutching her warhammer tightly to her breast.
"What the fuck," she said. "Now? Seriously? We've been drinking our way through the days on fucking insanity island for like two years and right when Eliot needs me, you--"
The fairy queen lifted a single white eyebrow. "I did what?" she said. "You just portaled into my throne room."
"Oh fuck me with a sparkly chainsaw," Margo said, "I'm back in the pre-Taylor's Version fuckmire."
Her creepy white nemesis merely tilted her head.
[[ establishy ]]
The next minute, she was standing inside the throne room of Castle Whitespire, staring at a tall, pale woman, still clutching her warhammer tightly to her breast.
"What the fuck," she said. "Now? Seriously? We've been drinking our way through the days on fucking insanity island for like two years and right when Eliot needs me, you--"
The fairy queen lifted a single white eyebrow. "I did what?" she said. "You just portaled into my throne room."
"Oh fuck me with a sparkly chainsaw," Margo said, "I'm back in the pre-Taylor's Version fuckmire."
Her creepy white nemesis merely tilted her head.
[[ establishy ]]
33 Apocalypse Ave, Saturday Afternoon
Aug. 5th, 2023 06:09 pm"Eliot, this isn't funny anymore."
He hadn't come back yesterday. He still wasn't responding to texts. And Margo had no idea why, besides the dawning terror that Fillory had gotten its hooks in him again and left her behind.
So now she was here, curled up into herself and tiny on the stairs, begging into the phone. If she hadn't had this entire stupid big house to herself, if there had been anyone who could see her, she'd-- She'd not be here like this. It was humiliating.
"Come on, El," she mumbled into the phone. "Talk to me. Please. Let me know where you are."
But no. It just went to fucking voicemail.
[[ open if you have a reason to stop by or call, as always. ]]
He hadn't come back yesterday. He still wasn't responding to texts. And Margo had no idea why, besides the dawning terror that Fillory had gotten its hooks in him again and left her behind.
So now she was here, curled up into herself and tiny on the stairs, begging into the phone. If she hadn't had this entire stupid big house to herself, if there had been anyone who could see her, she'd-- She'd not be here like this. It was humiliating.
"Come on, El," she mumbled into the phone. "Talk to me. Please. Let me know where you are."
But no. It just went to fucking voicemail.
[[ open if you have a reason to stop by or call, as always. ]]
33 Apocalypse Ave, Friday Morning
Aug. 4th, 2023 04:57 pmEliot hadn't come home last night. And that was fine. Margo assumed he'd been out getting laid, or something, which: good on him. She'd hear the deets when Eliot woke up.
Which would be. Any minute now. El wasn't exactly an early riser, so. Margo eyed her phone (for the 35th time that morning, not that she'd admit it) and rolled out of bed, padding towards the other bedroom just to make sure that...
No. No El here.
"Asshole," she muttered. She wasn't worried. Eliot was a grown man. And this was Fandom. It didn't even have any talking pirate bunnies on it.
[[ mostly establishy but can be open ]]
Which would be. Any minute now. El wasn't exactly an early riser, so. Margo eyed her phone (for the 35th time that morning, not that she'd admit it) and rolled out of bed, padding towards the other bedroom just to make sure that...
No. No El here.
"Asshole," she muttered. She wasn't worried. Eliot was a grown man. And this was Fandom. It didn't even have any talking pirate bunnies on it.
[[ mostly establishy but can be open ]]
You ever have one of those weeks where you decide you'd rather just stay indoors and read some books? Yeah. Margo'd been having one of those. But now they were out of food. And out of booze.
"Ugh, fuck a firefly, who decided to turn that thing on?" she muttered, as she stepped outside and squinted. Oh. Nevermind. There was a cloud. Better.
"El? You got our bags?"
She did not hear any ambient shark music, no, but it was implied.
[[ primarily for him but can be open pre- or post-beastying. ]]
"Ugh, fuck a firefly, who decided to turn that thing on?" she muttered, as she stepped outside and squinted. Oh. Nevermind. There was a cloud. Better.
"El? You got our bags?"
She did not hear any ambient shark music, no, but it was implied.
[[ primarily for him but can be open pre- or post-beastying. ]]
33 Apocalypse Ave, Thursday Afternoon
Feb. 23rd, 2023 12:12 pmAll the random distracting shit was over, and half the island's population had gone with it. This had left Margo with way too much time to think. She didn't like it. If anything, last week had proven that that was a bad idea.
She ran out of steam - and things to do - by Thursday. (She'd considered stopping by Amaya's to get a nice big hammer or something, but-- apparently Amaya was out, too.) And so now she was awake at 1 PM, sipping coffee at the table in the living room of her and Eliot's place, scowling at the newspaper.
"Good to know politics stays fucked no matter the year."
[[ expecting one but open ]]
She ran out of steam - and things to do - by Thursday. (She'd considered stopping by Amaya's to get a nice big hammer or something, but-- apparently Amaya was out, too.) And so now she was awake at 1 PM, sipping coffee at the table in the living room of her and Eliot's place, scowling at the newspaper.
"Good to know politics stays fucked no matter the year."
[[ expecting one but open ]]
33 Apocalypse Ave, Saturday Afternoon
Feb. 18th, 2023 05:26 pmMargo's feelings about sex pollen week: surprisingly mixed, this time around. But at least she'd woken up less murdery, and had gotten some clothes to at least make it back home.
Handy, especially because - ugh - she still wasn't anywhere near as tall as Eliot.
"Eliot?" she called, as she slammed the door shut behind her. "I brought lattes!"
Fuck. Would he know it was her?
"Come check out my new dick!"
There. That'd do it. ... If Eliot was here, anyway. If not, well, easier to steal some of his cologne.
[[ mostly for eliot if he wishes but can be open for (house)calls ]]
Handy, especially because - ugh - she still wasn't anywhere near as tall as Eliot.
"Eliot?" she called, as she slammed the door shut behind her. "I brought lattes!"
Fuck. Would he know it was her?
"Come check out my new dick!"
There. That'd do it. ... If Eliot was here, anyway. If not, well, easier to steal some of his cologne.
[[ mostly for eliot if he wishes but can be open for (house)calls ]]
The early part of the week had been something of a blur of hard-to-control anger with the occasional bone, but Margo's days had been on an upswing since running into Shunsui at the park. At least, she thought so. After all, it was early morning, and she wasn't in bed alone, and whoever it was was both warm and a snuggler.
She'd allow it.
She muttered something to that point and dug into the warmth a bit more. She'd deal with kicking whoever it was out in a second. Right now she was comfortable. Or as comfortable as you could be, when your eyepatch had shifted onto your temple during the night and the string was wrapped into your hair.
[[ for an adorable alien, and possibly the housemate after that thread if he wants to ]]
She'd allow it.
She muttered something to that point and dug into the warmth a bit more. She'd deal with kicking whoever it was out in a second. Right now she was comfortable. Or as comfortable as you could be, when your eyepatch had shifted onto your temple during the night and the string was wrapped into your hair.
[[ for an adorable alien, and possibly the housemate after that thread if he wants to ]]
33 Apocalypse Ave, Saturday Morning
Jul. 30th, 2022 02:01 pmHigh King Margo the Creator had gone to sleep last night, disappointed that Josh's magical meringue cake-- still hadn't held the right composition to take them all back to Earth. It had been fourteen years since she'd last laid eyes on her home planet, and while New Fillory had been kind to her, there was still an ache that wouldn't go away.
Oh well.
She stretched, yawning, the details of last night's disappointment only slowly seeping back into her consciousness.
"Deamouse? High King Mommy needs a cappucino."
Silence. Normally the little mouse was unflinchingly punctual. Especially about the caffeine.
"...Deamouse?"
She opened her eyes. Slowly.
"... huh."
[[ open, if you have any reason to be at 33 apocalypse. ]]
Oh well.
She stretched, yawning, the details of last night's disappointment only slowly seeping back into her consciousness.
"Deamouse? High King Mommy needs a cappucino."
Silence. Normally the little mouse was unflinchingly punctual. Especially about the caffeine.
"...Deamouse?"
She opened her eyes. Slowly.
"... huh."
[[ open, if you have any reason to be at 33 apocalypse. ]]
Margo was a classy fucking broad, okay?
And sometimes classy broads grabbed a chair and hung out outside their house with their stupid, insomnia-addled brain and worked their way through a bottle of wine. So she almost missed the weird green-ringed talky bullshit the moon was pulling.
"Well, fuck me," she muttered, squinting up at it. "What favor do I want?"
She could've come up with some good shit a week ago. Right now, all she wanted was sleep.
[[ can be open. I just wanted to do *something* before I forgot to ]]
And sometimes classy broads grabbed a chair and hung out outside their house with their stupid, insomnia-addled brain and worked their way through a bottle of wine. So she almost missed the weird green-ringed talky bullshit the moon was pulling.
"Well, fuck me," she muttered, squinting up at it. "What favor do I want?"
She could've come up with some good shit a week ago. Right now, all she wanted was sleep.
[[ can be open. I just wanted to do *something* before I forgot to ]]
When life gives you horny pollen, make sex lemonade. Or something. Margo was a little fuzzy on whether that worked, and frankly, she didn't really care. She had an itch and she knew a hot dominatrix.
And their schedules finally matched up just right. Thank fuck.
"Right, I think that's enough shit to keep us hydrated," Margo muttered, eyeing her collection of water bottles critically.
Snacks? Check.
Toys? Also check.
Irene? ... Still in absentia.
[[ for two and some ocd ]]
And their schedules finally matched up just right. Thank fuck.
"Right, I think that's enough shit to keep us hydrated," Margo muttered, eyeing her collection of water bottles critically.
Snacks? Check.
Toys? Also check.
Irene? ... Still in absentia.
[[ for two and some ocd ]]
33 Apocalypse Ave, Thursday Morning
Mar. 31st, 2022 11:59 amYeah, this week had been a little itchy.
"Fuck," Margo groaned. "How long is this shit supposed to last?"
She stretched out on top of the blankets, sweaty and relaxed with that post-banging glow. And still: she didn't feel spent. "Because this is getting to be a pain in the ass beyond the pain in the ass."
She eyed El in all his gangly naked glory. "If this keeps up, I think we're gonna have to hit the mainland."
You couldn't bang your best friend to keep the edge off forever.
[[ for eliot, and modded with permission~! ]]
"Fuck," Margo groaned. "How long is this shit supposed to last?"
She stretched out on top of the blankets, sweaty and relaxed with that post-banging glow. And still: she didn't feel spent. "Because this is getting to be a pain in the ass beyond the pain in the ass."
She eyed El in all his gangly naked glory. "If this keeps up, I think we're gonna have to hit the mainland."
You couldn't bang your best friend to keep the edge off forever.
[[ for eliot, and modded with permission~! ]]
33 Apocalypse Ave, Wednesday Afternoon
Mar. 2nd, 2022 08:43 pmIt had taken three separate trips to the groomer, but finally - finally - cat!Eliot looked like he wouldn't be embarrassed to leave the house. Not that Margo was letting him leave the house. Are you kidding? El got enough trouble as a human walking around.
"Don't you dare fucking lick that," Margo said, eyeing the cat from her position sprawled on the couch with a big book in hand. "You have any idea how much that mani-pedi cost?"
Sure, she got the money by magic. Didn't mean she wanted to see it go to waste.
"Just go eat your tuna already, fuck."
She wasn't a pet person.
[ for the cat ]
"Don't you dare fucking lick that," Margo said, eyeing the cat from her position sprawled on the couch with a big book in hand. "You have any idea how much that mani-pedi cost?"
Sure, she got the money by magic. Didn't mean she wanted to see it go to waste.
"Just go eat your tuna already, fuck."
She wasn't a pet person.
[ for the cat ]
33 Apocalypse Ave, Wednesday Afternoon
Dec. 8th, 2021 07:05 pmMargo was getting an axe (with spikes!). Right now, she had a mace. It was nice, and heavy, and obviously fucking great for clobbering shit with.
She had never used a mace in her life.
So, after a morning spent watching way too many videos on YouTube, she was giving it a shot. Built a whole dummy out of a coatrack and some pillows. Drew a mean face on it with her lipstick.
“You fucking take it, you pale-ass fairy twat!”
She hit it with the mace, using the absolute most of her strength. And it worked! The whole thing . . . toppled over and hit the ground. Hard. “Right, maybe I should tape you to the floor or something,” Margo muttered. She lifted her arm for the spell, and . . . “Ow.”
Fuck, she was going to have to start doing push-ups. Wasn’t she.
[[ open ]]
She had never used a mace in her life.
So, after a morning spent watching way too many videos on YouTube, she was giving it a shot. Built a whole dummy out of a coatrack and some pillows. Drew a mean face on it with her lipstick.
“You fucking take it, you pale-ass fairy twat!”
She hit it with the mace, using the absolute most of her strength. And it worked! The whole thing . . . toppled over and hit the ground. Hard. “Right, maybe I should tape you to the floor or something,” Margo muttered. She lifted her arm for the spell, and . . . “Ow.”
Fuck, she was going to have to start doing push-ups. Wasn’t she.
[[ open ]]
Party night. The best of nights. An ornate sign on 33 Apocalypse’s door invited all to knock and make themselves known.
The space inside was bigger than it looked from the outside, stretched and displaced by magic. The wallpaper was green and textured, hinting at the English countryside. On one side of the room sat a significant bar offering food and drinks, while the other gave ample space to sit. A large Jenga tower held prominence in a corner.
It was easy to miss it, though, in favor of the little streams of water that ran across furniture and floor. Tiny glass gondolas, animated by magic, made their way back and forth across each stream. The gondolas were real, though the water itself was an illusion. It called attention to the ceiling, doubly enchanted: both to draw all cigarette smoke to itself so it wouldn’t blow in anyone’s face, but also to mimic the starry sky above Venice.
You could watch the stars twinkle, or see the occasional cloud go by. Magical fireflies added to the illusion, dancing through the air like tiny lights. If you listened closely, you could hear the sea rolling in across an invisible beach. Even the air smelled faintly of it: the sea, warm food and good wine.
Welcome to Eliot and Margo’s pad, people. They’d make damn sure you had a good time.
[ocd up, come party!]
The space inside was bigger than it looked from the outside, stretched and displaced by magic. The wallpaper was green and textured, hinting at the English countryside. On one side of the room sat a significant bar offering food and drinks, while the other gave ample space to sit. A large Jenga tower held prominence in a corner.
It was easy to miss it, though, in favor of the little streams of water that ran across furniture and floor. Tiny glass gondolas, animated by magic, made their way back and forth across each stream. The gondolas were real, though the water itself was an illusion. It called attention to the ceiling, doubly enchanted: both to draw all cigarette smoke to itself so it wouldn’t blow in anyone’s face, but also to mimic the starry sky above Venice.
You could watch the stars twinkle, or see the occasional cloud go by. Magical fireflies added to the illusion, dancing through the air like tiny lights. If you listened closely, you could hear the sea rolling in across an invisible beach. Even the air smelled faintly of it: the sea, warm food and good wine.
Welcome to Eliot and Margo’s pad, people. They’d make damn sure you had a good time.
[ocd up, come party!]
33 Apocalypse Ave, Friday Morning
Oct. 1st, 2021 04:20 pmEliot had been walking around with a fear entity gnawing on his nightmares for the past two weeks. Enough was enough. They were fixing this, now, and if Margo had any doubts about whether her approach would work, well. . . she’d deal with that when they got to it.
No easier way to have a spell blow up in your face than to hesitate halfway in because you weren’t sure you could pull it off.
She’d set up a small table in the center of their living room. It held candles and incense that she’d carefully picked based on their sight-related properties. Some obsidian, for darkness. A few other bits and bobs surrounded the sheet of paper that held some scribbled words in Greek. The chant was meant to be. . . let’s call it Theia- and Nyx-adjacent.
Summoning gods had never worked out for any of them, so one step to the side of one seemed safer.
Now all they needed was Jon.
She looked up at Eliot from the sofa and didn’t let any of her fear or uncertainty show. She really couldn’t afford to have any. “You ready for this?”
[ for jon and eliot ]
No easier way to have a spell blow up in your face than to hesitate halfway in because you weren’t sure you could pull it off.
She’d set up a small table in the center of their living room. It held candles and incense that she’d carefully picked based on their sight-related properties. Some obsidian, for darkness. A few other bits and bobs surrounded the sheet of paper that held some scribbled words in Greek. The chant was meant to be. . . let’s call it Theia- and Nyx-adjacent.
Summoning gods had never worked out for any of them, so one step to the side of one seemed safer.
Now all they needed was Jon.
She looked up at Eliot from the sofa and didn’t let any of her fear or uncertainty show. She really couldn’t afford to have any. “You ready for this?”
[ for jon and eliot ]
“I’m going to go back to that bar and beat that low, magical snake-oil slinging bar shrew with every novelty crab-print shot glass they have until she gives me the address for this fucking brewery, and we are going to burn that place down and laugh over the goddamn flames—”
On the bright side, Margo had woken up herself this morning. On the not-so-bright side, Margo had woken up herself this morning.
She paced from one end of the murder lab to the other, her fists clenching as her upper lip curled into a snarl. “I swear on Ember’s sweat-stained corpse, Eliot. . .”
Had you missed this, El?
[ for the bff ]
On the bright side, Margo had woken up herself this morning. On the not-so-bright side, Margo had woken up herself this morning.
She paced from one end of the murder lab to the other, her fists clenching as her upper lip curled into a snarl. “I swear on Ember’s sweat-stained corpse, Eliot. . .”
Had you missed this, El?
[ for the bff ]
