#gdvas

[nightsung]

SETTING:   undetermined my brain isn’t working.

“you’re olivia pope,  aren’t you?”   a smile sits on her lips as she addresses @gdvas​,  practiced and easy  —  though it’s not entirely genuine.  it rarely is,  these days,  is it?   “i’ve heard some pretty impressive things,”

[acl2ire]

❝    so,   tell me -   where does someone like kayla watts go after this ?    ❞      the question burns and begs:      where do any of you go?      what is the next step?   it’s something claire has asked herself many times.      ending’s are not infinity at its finest,      she knows.      there is always something after;      something bigger,      something magical,      maybe even something less.      it waits in the thick shadows of longing.      perhaps she should learn to make peace with the unspoken in between.      calm and claire dearing have never been synonyms though.      ❝    we might not have a landing strip but...    ❞      lips waver——talk about that in between,      huh?      don’t start beating around the bush now.      she ripens a smirk of tell-tale knowing.      ❝    it beats ice.   ❞   /   ♡ ,   @gdvas​​​ .

[velvetipped-a]

@gdvas     /    elle  &  vernita.​

           “How does it make you feel?”  She leans back against the wall behind her, one arm crossed against her chest and the other holding a cigarette up to her lips.  “To have this sort of power?  We’re like ... glorified garbage disposal people, huh?  These livin’ and walkin’ shit-heads are our garbage and we dispose of them and rid the world of assholes  - one death at a time.”  She speaks with a certain pride,  her eye focused on the other woman,  gaze unmoving.  “If you ask me, I think that we’re gods.” 

[nightsung-a]

@gdvas​   ⟶   mellivia content bc we deserve it.

it’s an answer she’s a little too familiar with repeating.   in fact,  mellie’s fairly certain she could hold an entire conversation with herself at this point due to the sheer predictability of the back-and-forth.  so maybe she’s annoyed when she offers her hundredth,   ‘i’m sorry don’t know where my husband is,’   in the last hour alone.  quite frankly,  she doesn’t care.  maybe she should.  maybe if she were just any wife and he just any husband,  maybe then she should care,  but she isn’t and he’s not which means she simply doesn’t give a single fuck about the whereabouts of ‘the candidate’.  and jesus!  does running for office in this country absolve a person of their name?  ‘the candidate’!  she’s his wife,  do they think she doesn’t know his name?  do they not know his name?  it’s only plastered everywhere they go,  after all,  it shouldn’t be all that difficult to remember!   

she breathes out,  tired eyes opening and locking immediately on the next person she senses approaching,  and god mellie’s grateful that she doesn’t have to go through it all again.  olivia’s is a welcome face for her gaze to fall upon,  and even in her exhaustion at having changed timezones eleven separate times in the past week alone,  a smile slides across perfectly painted lips   (   it’s one that’s soft,  small but genuine   ).   then it occurs to her that the other woman may very well be looking for fitz the same as everyone else apparently is,  and face falls,   “please tell me the next words out of your mouth don’t involve asking me about my husband’s whereabouts,  liv,  because if you’ve lost track of him too?  then i just don’t know what to tell you,”

[tartareus]

          ‘ ‘  i’ll admit ------ i get the allure now, although his method is a bit...messy && baroque... the axe certainly has an empowering feeling to it. ’ ’   the supreme smirked, glancing at her cigarette to light it up. offering marie one, the axeman soon left fiona’s mind to give place to something she deeply desired, even more than one last great affair: revenge. hank had escaped && went missing, but not for long.  ‘ ‘  come, sit and have a drink with me, laveau ------ our little truce isn’t over until the last of them dies, and i’m afraid we’ve got at least one more vermin to kill.  hank.  ’ ’  

a somewhat plotted thing with @gdvas​

[battleincarnate]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! to my favourite bitch in all the world, i love you so much and i hope your birthday is as awesome as it possibly can be in a covid world. you’re honestly my favourite person and someone i can always count on to be around when i need you and feel like i can really tell anything to, it means a lot to me and i feel so lucky to be blessed w our friendship. there’s no one i’d rather write w or talk to and i hope your day is amazing bc you deserve it @gdvas

[faultyoptimism]

gdvas sent: “Did you do that on purpose?” (mia)

          Judy felt her heartbeat get a little faster at the question. She hadn’t expected to be called out like that, just figured Mia would take the bait and not ask questions. Then again that was an insult to this woman’s intelligence because she was clearly very smart, intuitive even. “I did,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink under the spotlight of Mia’s stare. “In my defense it seems to have worked,” she slipped in almost sheepishly.

          It wasn’t something she made a habit of doing, but every so often when she really wanted to see someone again she’d leave something behind where they could find it. Usually a piece of jewelry. It almost always worked, and it was perfect for when she felt too self-conscious to just ask someone if they wanted to hang out or see each other again. She had certainly wanted to see Mia again. She was beautiful, artistic, and she had oceans of depth in her eyes. She had so many stories, Judy just knew, and she wanted to be around her long enough to hear all of them.

@gdvas​  /  meme

[storiescrafted-a]

@gdvas​ said:  ' it would've been fun if you would've been the one. ' (olivia @ mellie)

FOLKLORE   ⟶   ACCEPTING.

oh.

she almost feels lucky she’s spent so many years behind such carefully crafted masks   ---   it helps her to retain some small sliver of her composure.  behind it though?  she feels herself shattering.   

it’s not like she won’t pull herself together,  of course,   she’s done it so many times before.

maybe next time she should take bets.  how long will it take for mellie to get her heart broken?  hours?  days?  weeks?  maybe she’ll even make it a month.

but no one ever chooses her.  they never have,  and evidently they never will.

“yeah,”   tone is entirely absent as she nods vaguely,   “yeah that   ---   really would’ve been something,”