;vestige.

     ❝I'm not the kind of sick that you can fix.❞        Independent Margot Verger. NBC Hannibal.

[generationalheiress]

.

[shadowsuspended-archive-kaput]

{++Okay, so I was seriously trying to think of something more interesting to do for reaching 600 but I couldn’t. And I do not know how to make fancy things. Nope. No talent here. So, I just decided to do one of these since it’s been a while since I did a full one, yes. I might still do something else though. But yeah, here’s this. So, okay, here we go. Since I’m rambling on and on non-stop. I love you all.’ So, here have flower crown and happy with the gif yes, yes okay. bye. thanks. all the love, all the thanks. And I probably forgot people but yes hey I love you.

+ alanaxbloom + alwayswillgraham + analyzingwillowgraham + apuresociopath + areyougoingtokillme + bedelix + caecifortis + catnipforkillersbloom + cherishedlure + destructiveempathy + drblooms-office + drdumaurier + eideticker + empathd + etfiliam + fatedheir + generationalheiress + hislastvictim + i-let-him-kill-me + lecter-cannibal + ivebeenalive + justxscared + l-ange-en-rouge + lionessamiele + lookwhatthekatzdraggedin + margotxvergerx + mollyfoster—graham + mooringsbuiltonsand + nothisdaughter +  overactiveimaginings + puttinghimdown + quitethehumanitarian + sickassjigsaw + smallestshrike + sociopathicuniverse + sucker-for-strays + teacupwilliam + teachustobestill + the-alana-bloom + the-cute-waitress + thedevil-isin-thedetails + thedoctorbloom + theunluckyverger + thisisntmybed + whopraysoverus + x-animus 0fficiallly-0ff-the-rails + aimlesslymaverick + aspenofstark + asskicker-grimes + betweenthecrimsonandthewhite + bringfreedomback + childsprayer + claireainegallagher + cmacmanus + consultant-patrick-jane + doyouneverknowfear + drxjackson + dxrkerpxth + eachstilledbody + errarehumxnumest + fracturedxinnocence + itsacreativeplan + kathy-barnett-rp + leavingonehappier + likemyladymother + montanaparker + morsusdelirium + notthegoodgrimes + primusdux + pointmanparadox + pureironking + sadiiistic + selmawinter + sexdrugsmxrder + still-life-peach + stitchedxnxsewn + theoriginalbloodcountess + thewaytoredemption + thievingsweetheart + valerieallbright + waywerust + xnataliaromanova + yoursaviorhasarrived + zenofrping And of course, my sloth, yes always and forever. magicalmysterysloth

[maulthots]

(2/5) Ladies (x)

[vampiresimping]

the hand that rocks the cradle

❝ when the fox hears the rabbit scream he comes a-runnin’, but not to help.❞

a mason/margot fanmix.

i. lullaby - a perfect circle / ii. lullaby - the cure / iii. sweet and tender hooligan - nouvelle vague / iv. the hand that rocks the cradle - the smiths / v. no love lost - joy division / vi. reel around the fountain - the smiths / vii. three imaginary boys - the cure / viii. the killing moon - nouvelle vague / ix. monster (alternate ver.) - meg & dia / x. vivica - jack off jill / xi. candyman - siouxsie and the banshees / xii. sail - awolnation

[the-write-ideas]

                                     All of the beauty turns to pain                                   All of the madness falls like rain

-(x)

[prettylittlewithdrawals]

You sure know where to put the knife and when to twist it.

Mona Vanderwaal (via prettylittlewithdrawls)

[carnivalsofthecity]

Visit Original Link

[generationalheiress]

I’m building an empire. I’m building with my body and soul. I’m building an empire. So little time and so much to do. I must say this is as good as it gets. So why you wasting your blood, your sweat, your tears?

[inkwhelmed]

Fuck your soft words. Compare me not to stars But to storms, to hurricanes and typhoons. See me not for my beauty and fire See me for the natural disaster I am. Fuck your soft words Because I am not soft.

- “margot”  l.w.  00:21

[generationalheiress]

(via inperfecti)

[shadowsuspended-archive-kaput]

Shadows Floating-{Will+Margot}

[shadowsuspended-archive-kaput]

Hardly a man. The words rang loud and almost terrifying in his ears. He had to brace himself against them. He swallowed down the alcohol and looked away, looked at the fine things he wasn’t sure how anyone could get used to. He had been a man in his eyes for some time, as if nothing could take away the humanity that Dr. Lecter carried. It seemed to be a given that the good doctor possessed strong humanity, especially since he had such fascination with the inner workings of it. Only now he knew, he knew that he was nothing but a beast trapped beneath the skin of a man.

He could still feel the heat of Abigail's blood on the cold damp skin of his face, his own blood slipping through his fingers. And he had been certain that death was coming, like the raven. Knocking, knocking, knocking.

To strip away the possibility that Hannibal Lecter was in fact a man felt terrible like doing that to himself. Only he knew, had known since he had nearly faded that night so long ago, that they weren’t the same. The fear had been snuffed out. He was not what Dr. Lecter credited to him.

He felt like nothing but shades, shades of himself, of darkness, and emotion. The only set thing being the determination that lingered inside of him. Purpose.

He leaned forward, empty glass swaying from the tight grip of two of his fingers. He watched the movement a moment before lifting his eyes to her face. She owed him nothing. He would have told her that. But would that make her back away from her offer of confidential help?

"I have no intention of discussing you with Hannibal Lecter, Margot." he said with a small shake of his head. "I’m more than sure that he’s left the country. I don’t have the means…" His voice trailed off. He looked away from her, out the window. Was Mason upstairs? He could still smell his blood, thick and heavy on the air. His carpet had been stained, his dogs were gone. He looked back at her. "I’m sure you know what I’m asking."

[generationalheiress]

     “I know what you're asking of me, Will. I'm not blind.”

   What is humanity when men and women alike strive for heinous deeds that could easily fall into monstrosity's calloused grasp? Margot, herself, knew that she had been capable of such despicable, horrible things. She had no qualms about attempting to murder her brother. And when Hannibal planted a seed of a plan in her mind, she willingly accepted.

   Her glass, now half-empty, collected condensation. Miniscule droplets hit polished wood without a single care in the world -- a persistent plop, plop, plop. Her fingers slipped, but she held on. Margot Verger was a survival. The scars that adorned her flesh like armor foretold a tale of woe.

   She conquered her fate, seized the day, and silently pondered if Will Graham was capable of doing the same.

      “You're my friend. I'll do what I can to help you. You must understand that I'm... limited.”

   Her hand in power didn't extend as vast as the navy or some impressionable, military presence. She wasn't a tyrant, just a woman who escaped her fate.

     “I wouldn't be surprised if these walls had eyes and ears.”

   She spoke grimly with a displeased twitch of her ruby lips. Mason rested upstairs. Though he was bedridden, he still rolled the dice and played the game. She tried her best to stay ahead. Sighing, her teeth dug into her cheek, conflicted.

     “I need to hear this from you personally. Ask away.”

[opheliaavery]

Avoiding The Fate Of Social X-Rays ~ generationalheiress

[opheliaavery]

"I like your speaking voice.." An out of place compliment, sweetly spoken with pink lips, sharp teeth. She says inappropriate things in the most appropriate way. Ophelia has a tendency to lightly press on boundaries, she knows she can handle consequence. Sometimes it lands her in trouble, which feels just like home. Angry men are the ones she knows, and women as cold and smooth as marble.

Today, she means well. "It would be a good voice for business." Wouldn’t it? Margot looks magnificently strong, she should run an empire. Ophelia should be by the water, singing souls to watery graves. She smiles- it’s an attempt at ‘understanding’, it appears shy, tentative. She finally takes a seat, very still, basking in silence. “It’s a shame to be wasted.”

[generationalheiress]

      A pink blush accentuates her cheeks. Compliments are few and rare in between for sweet Margot. She wet her lips, lashes fluttering. She acts like a maiden in the presence of a crush, almost shy. Rendered speechless, she musters a tight smile. Starved for attention and upon receiving it, she doesn't know how to react.

     “Thank you.”

     In due time, she will burn his kingdom down. Not even holy water will be able to help him. For now, she bides her time like a cat on the prowl. Her tongue traces her gum line.

     “I'll succeed him, even if it's the last thing I do. I want to make a name for myself.”

     Even when irked, she manages to look pretty. There's a little shake of her head. A thin groove etches deeper into her skin, bracketing her mouth. Her hands feel much too restless in her lap.

     “Of course, this isn't very appropriate of us to discuss. Nor is it very... feminine.”

     She seems indifferent either way.

[anythingbutabaybreeze]

║❤║ “Afraid? No, I don’t think she’s afraid.              Perhaps, she’s just eager to make you              the happiest woman. I’d say nervous.              I’m sure she’s wonderful.

There’s a definite change in the air between them, the tension of a few minutes earlier washed away and replaced with casual gestures and amiable confessions. A pink heat flares in her cheeks as she considers what else to divulge.

          “He…well, he works for the police.                    Does a lot with technology.                         He’s a bit—odd. But he really                              can be sweet in a dorky way.                   Not that dorky’s bad. It’s a good thing.”

[generationalheiress]

           ║✦║“—That does seem to fit her                     personality well. I think, Lisa, that                     I'm afraid of losing her. I fear the                     day I'll be like my brother.”

     Oh, she could be cold and cruel, but never as sadistic as he. Still, the nightmarish worry plagues her. She furrows her brow, cerulean eyes flickering down to the ground before catching wind of the unruly blush spreading across her friend's cheeks.

                 “What, exactly, with technology? In any                    case, he sounds like a good                    match for you. As long as                    you're happy.”

[daughterhobbs-deactivated201809]

⌠♟⌡ ❝—Hannibal is your psychiatrist? He’s my… ‘legal guardian.’❞

                  Abigail always felt strange knowing Hannibal spoke to                          so many broken, troubled people. It made her                            wonder if he saw her more like a daughter                                                   — or a patient.

   ❝His advice has worked for me so far. Do you think it works for him?❞

[generationalheiress]

                                     ║✦║“Small world. Whatever reason do we                           have, other than fate, to meet under these circumstances?”

     She was a troubled, warped soul -- sick      beneath the pretty mask of makeup she      wore. Margot wondered if Abigail was      the same.

                                      “I'm not his doctor. I can't read into his emotions,                                                    only my brother's and even then,                                       it's difficult. Few tend to follow their own advice.”

[titanomyrma-archive]

A puppet is just as dependable on it’s master as any other, semantics, really. Though she knows better than to push where business is concerned. Clients are clients, after all, and Margot is a special case. To think - she could do away with her dear brother and take everything she wanted, if she could overcome that one hurdle. Fingers spread like spiders legs, smoothing out the creases in her skirt as she pauses - takes a sip of her tea smiles in all the right places. Never did they fit naturally. "I understand. I believe I can come up with something to…remedy your situation, Margot."

[generationalheiress]

     She's not as strong as she appears to be, merely a dancer on a string, her pirouette carrying her in an eternal circle. Her father's money will never fall into her lap. Regardless of Mason's currently afflicted state, he controls the savings and she's powerless aside from this convincing facade. She will play the role of cunning caretaker and look after him, but silently plot meanwhile.

     “Would you indulge me, doctor?”

     When she leans forward, she reeks of desperation. Proper etiquette crooked her pinkie while she sipped from her cup. The Devil's water tasted awfully sweet.

     Temptation beat on in her desperate, foolish heart. She craved so much, received so little. If she had to ride on a savage queen's coattails to fulfill her wishes, then come whatever may. She raised her cup in commemoration.

     “I can't begin to thank you enough, you know. You have more than my gratitude.”

[sanctamater]

  This tigress lacked claws and teeth, having been domesticated with a collar of pearls. Margot had found it within herself to rise up and strike, with talons ripping at throat as though it were silk and satin. Lady Comstock was no viper waiting to be stepped on; she was compliant and subservient, harbouring no bitterness to her superiors as long as gentle caresses and kisses were given to satiate her growing need for affection and touch, which was so very rare. It was addicting to feel wanted and needed; and she would never give up that feeling.

  Every hit felt like a kiss, with bruises the sweet reminders of the adoration that was so desperately needed. Was it so bad to bear every mark like a badge of honour?With quiet grace and dignity did both stand, awaiting cutting words and cruel hands like the loyal queens they were.   Breath escaped her, shaking at her err. Of course she knew, though the First Lady dared not speak it.                                            ————— “The queen.”

  While a vast sea in both knowledge and temperament (tempests rose and fell at the slightest motion, with eerie calm settling in before the storm), her view had been skewered by the man whose boots she’d willingly kiss. Women were weak, compliant; they could run businesses but step back when a man came to run them. They might blow kisses, but as soon as some were willingly given, WHORE was scrawled across their brow. What was a queen to a king?   Head bowed, reminiscent of the prayer she spent hours in. She could sense it within Margot; the sea that bowed to none and rose up to smite all who dared to challenge it. Cut from the same cloth, part of the same world; they were more alike than either cared to admit.               “You are too modest, too humble.”   Smile appeared; fleeting as the dead sun during a winter morning and as cold as the ice that glistened on the path.    Power had been coveted in her younger years; but as smile lines had appeared and skeins of grey had wound themselves into hair, she stayed silent. As time had ravaged her, she backed down from her role with ease and grace. This young pup had much to learn; she had time to sharpen her claws and bare her teeth, time to strike and time to plan. Her hastiness was her downfall, her eagerness a fatal flaw.    “Then why waste my time, Miss Verger? I rarely leave Emporia, you know. I’d hate for  my excursion to be for naught." 

[generationalheiress]

     Starved for righteous affection, Margot Verger lived in a shadow of doubt. Not once did she spend her childhood in the spotlight. It was Mason who craved attention, who lusted for power, and now she experienced the latter. It starved her, made her throat parched beyond comparison. She needed control like she needed the blood flowing through her veins.

     They craved the pleasantries, the positive light and the sensual touch that their loves promised to deliver, but seldom did. Margot's love for her sibling was as warped as a shattered mirror, hairline fractures running far more rampant than weeds sprouting up in between concrete cracks of pavement.

     Not once did she envision the married life. It seemed horribly confining, much too similar to her current predicament. She refused to be imprisoned again.

                                                                  “You flatter me.”

     And she almost laughed. Her chortle, alone, was breathy -- a mere exhalation. Young Margot resembled an aristocrat with her luxurious lifestyle, royalty dripping in red, but she was not the Queen. She had been a pawn for her brother to mercilessly toy with and she allowed for him to do so, allowed for it to ensure her longevity.

                                                                     “... I have to be.”

     As though she had a choice. She didn't dress in revealing garb. Her knife-like suits spoke in volumes. Her clothing hadn't been purchased on her own accord. In fact, her brother purchased the majority of her collection. She let him. She always did.

    “-- You asked for a tour, Amelia. That's exactly what I intend on doing before we review the stocks. That means that even the unpleasant, gristly things must be shown. You can't appreciate beauty until you understand ugliness.”

    She carried an age old wisdom about her, accompanied with bated breath. Although she was haggard, she held her head high and began to walk -- away from this tomb [this infernal womb] of a room, away from the chilling, suffocating atmosphere.

                                                                       Let the Queen conquer.

[teachustobestill-blog]

deal making | Post S2 AU| generationalheiress

[teachustobestill-blog]

A similar path had been followed; her feet light and graceful and wary to which she stood. All to avoid pain if the pain was a different sort. She is ice under flesh that guards vital organs of heart and mind. It suits her, despite the loneliness. It can be tolerated.

She had just been there; the eldest. She lost money and if she was the best behaved child of the Starling brood, Starling was sure her cousin would try no others. Her tastes were never quite the issue … even if they developed beyond poor white trash.

Frustrating.

The young woman sips her coffee though the European manners are not set, she holds the cup delicately and treasures the warmth in her palm and fingers. The cream and sugar sweeten the brew that tastes all just the same to her.

"I would think, after all when it’s not being encouraged, it’s easy to drop from view with these news cycles. Always a war or protest, somewhere." A not so subtle hint of the current turn of news; Hannibal Lecter leading to the Vergers. "People bored out of their mind; funny that."

She regards the lovely woman in front of her; she cannot quite read her and she’s not quite judged her. Clarice is often quick to judge, but quicker still to make up her mind when facts are presented. Though most times she’s usually right about her judgment.

"Mmm, so it is for show. I hear his face is real hard to look at, too. But that’s rumor. Though would it be all right to ask why you’re relieved?"

She sets the coffee mug down on the tray, careful not to drop or spill. A soft smudge of lipstick rests on the brim of the cup. “German. I’ll have to ask the brand, later.” The young redhead leans back in her seat, her head tipped as she listens to the remarkably short story.

"I suppose I have a few comments more than questions, so let’s start with the questions. May I ask where you were at? I believe someone had this checked out but I like keeping records straight." A polite smile, her mind on the pigs more than where Margot Verger was at. No one put the blame on her and it was true, she did call 911.

[generationalheiress]

     Loneliness is a cruel mistress. At night, she tosses and turns like the sea with no one to hold but herself. Desperately, she holds on, her arms wrap around in a protective embrace. Sometimes, when the night is especially wicked, she forgets to breathe. She wonders if Starling is the same -- the agent probably has her fair share of nightmares.

     Heat in her palm reminds her that she is still alive. None of this is a dream, but a harsh reality that dear Margot endures. Existence, time and time again, proved to be a drag. Determined to a fault, she held on.

     “The magazines adored us. We were a household name, almost as common as Johnson & Johnson. Isn't that funny?”

     The smile that twitched its way onto her full lips betrayed any hint of amusement. It never reached her eyes, never seeped into her voice. She seemed... empty. Determined to rebuild herself, to take over, and yet, she received not a dime.

     Frustrating, indeed.

     “I much prefer the quiet unlike Mason. I'm sure he'll worm his way into the spotlight. He always does.”

     Void of humor, she set down her mug. Porcelain clinked. The silver tray carried a glimmer, akin to the hope that seemed as distant as a falling star within Margot Verger's pupils.

     Rumors, rumors. Filthy things whispered behind closed doors to hide the skeletons in the closet. People spread malicious thought like wild fire devouring an abandoned building. She cared little for the verbal threats, frowned upon them greatly. She buried her secrets six feet deep with the shovel permanently attached to her ring-adorned hand.

     “It unnerved me at first, but I adapted. What else is family for?”

     She swallowed her grimace, back to her rigid demeanor.

     “He's been muzzled. He can no longer do harm unto others.”

     Or so she hoped.

     “I took my mare out for a ride to savor the day. It was crisp outside, my favorite kind of weather. When I came back, I noticed something was awry. I saw the blood. I made the call.”

     Conditioned, programmed, trained -- it meant all the same, her obedience would never stray.

[ciorane]

quick margot sketch :)

[glitzandshadows]

ALEXEY VOLKOV