This is all @foleypdx ’s fault. I was studying without pants, sent her a pic of my textbook on my legs, and she replied with ‘nice science. nice gam’. I can only assume that her later thought process was this: lol, Alexis is a science, she’s pantsless, Lena’s a science, she’s probs also pantsless. She then sent me: 'imagine Lena pantsless in her office’ To which I screamed about and then wrote this.
Also, the idea that Lena doesn’t like caramel is from wtfoctagon whom I cannot seem to tag? but here’s a Link to their blog, but their fic:Sunlit Honey and Lavender Sunsets which is literally the best representation of Jess that I have ever seen with mine own two eyes and I fucking love this fic, I can’t even describe how much I adore it.
Jess was tired and now Ms. Danvers was here and Ms. Danvers was nice but honestly she was loud and rambunctious and a little over the top with everything in life and Jess was just tired. So, yes, she waved Ms. Danvers toward Ms. Luthor’s door without buzzing Ms. Luthor and THEN the phone rang and well? Ms. Luthor always liked seeing Ms. Danvers so it just wasn’t going to be a problem.
Kara opened the door; Lena’s office was dark except for one lamp beside her couch. Kara really needed to talk to Lena about staying so late. Really, if the light bothered her enough that she had to sit in near dark-
Read Vogue for the first in a while whilst on the stair climber (The stair climber and I are BFFs at this point, so much so that my cardio endurance is excellent and some guy came up to me at the gym and showed me a wikipedia page of the longest stairs in the world, convinced that I could conquer it). Read a phrase in a piece about remodeling The Ritz (is there any piece more Vogue than that, complete with references to Versailles to boot?) that is perhaps the perfect description of the magazine, as a nod to both its subdued snobbish air and its unfailing commitment to expensive aesthetics:
One can imagine the heel clicks of the the “clackers” (heels-wearing Vogue editors) are really some sharp-tongue whispering “sumptuously tasteful” over and over again, echoing through the hard-floored white halls of the Vogue office.
There is something unique about perusing the pages of Vogue, as opposed to just looking at the fashion images on Tumblr. While the latter may capture the aesthetic of “sumptuously tasteful,” only the former can give you the feeling that you are experiencing the embodiment the strive for sumptuously tasteful, as a product of an office who not only produces it, but embodies it and prescribes it.