#lolavillarin

[lararivkin]

[ behind ] for lola

[ behind ] sender comes up to receiver from behind and wraps their arms around their waist

It's one of the very rare times that Lara isn't watching everything around her and her attention is down at her phone, eyebrows furrowed together as she's trying to make sense of whatever the GOP is trying to push out this time. The speech barely makes any sense, and the rebuttal is going to take some time to piece together - and that will more than likely be her job to get the information together for the rest of them to make it into something coherent.

Frustrated, she blows out a breath of air and shoots off a quick text to the group chat with screenshots and clips from twitter. Before she hits send, though, she feels warmth behind her and arms slip around her waist. There's a brief moment where she's ready to turn, snap, and make use of the taser in her purse - but the greeting Lola gives her immediately makes her relax.

"You fucking ass." It's laughed out. And she leans into the shorter girl's grip a moment before turning, resting her arms over her shoulders, hands loosely laced behind her neck. Lara grins, stepping a half step closer, "Come to rescue me from my budding migraine, babe?"

@lolavillarin

[devonslater]

starter ╲╲╲ CLOSED for @lolavillarin

day ╲╲╲  one day after Gala @ Vogue HQ

›››

Escaping the bloody night was easy for Devon, she merely gave her people a look and she was out of the room unharmed. A part of her wondered about the people left behind– only for a split second. It was the next day and the world was back to normal, just how she liked it. She waltzed into the familiar Vogue headquarters, nodding to those she had worked with for decades now. She watched the youthful employees chat amongst themselves, a sense of jealousy brewing inside of her. It wasn’t that they were young, or fun, or the fact they didn’t worry about anti-aging regimens. It was that they were so carefree. If they only knew what she had witnessed last night. She stood in front of the Nespresso machine with her large, chunky sunglasses covering any sort of emotion behind them. She cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. The machine finished the brew and she stood there mindlessly in thought. “Oh, oops,” she said, finally realizing she was holding up the line. “It’s… almost the weekend,” the blonde sighed, grabbing her cup. “Got any good stories coming out?”