i'd be the man @lorenakeller - Tumblr Blog

repmeghan‌:

Though she tries hard to suppress it, Meghan can feel her features change into a mild look of surprise– or is she actually just impressed?– as the Vice President says aloud what she herself had been thinking all along. She lets out a rather humorless chuckle at the coincidence, and shifts her weight from her left leg to her right.

“Their regard for yours, you mean?” Meghan asks, turning her head to regard Lorena in full. Though neither of their niceties have faltered, they’re both intelligent enough to know what lies just below one another’s surfaces. No matter how much they’d both hate to admit it, Lorena and Meghan are a lot alike.

“I’m starting to think those increased security measures were a hoax,” she adds dryly, taking a sip from her coffee. “Think I’ll get my head blown off if I open the wrong door?”

It’s a joke, but only just– after what happened at the State of the Union, Meghan can’t with any confidence say she isn’t fearful of history repeating itself– which brings her right back to her original point: how the fuck was this allowed to happen?

“I’ve heard of a government failing it’s people, but not a government failing it’s own government.”

Her lips curl, and she allows it to last a second too long. Knew it.

No one could possibly spew all that bullshit on a daily basis and mean it. They’d be either Mother Theresa or dumber than a five-pound sack of stupid. (Wait, wasn’t that redundant?)

But plot twist: Meghan is miles away from both. There’s the slightest pang of envy in there as Lorena eyes the younger woman, because the other does it so well, because what Lorena has to rehearse and repeat like a parrot comes so easily to Meghan, but it’s hushed by her arising instincts: she can practically smell an opportunity. For what, remains to be seen.

She sidesteps so they’re facing each other, the Capitol Building imposing and somber in the back. It’ll make for the perfect shot.

“Suppose we should buy some helmets, just in case,” she deadpans. Then the sweetness creeps back into her voice. “But… woman-to-woman, I’ll simply scream if they blame this on dear Jane. I can already hear the Republicans: she’s too naive, too soft. Aren’t those the last words we’d want attributed to our first female president?”

#( meghan. )#wow why did we let them talk

aaronxwright‌:

He stood there like a dumbass, with a cup of too hot coffee in his hand, while she walked, almost too fast for him to keep up. “It’s to warm your cold dead heart, ma’am.” He said, struggling to keep the cup with the lid open, letting the coffee cool down for a bit.

He followed her, coming up the staircase, struggling to walk among the wave of bodyguards. “We don’t.” Even though the press was begging and shouting her name, desperate for a single quote to go in their headline. “Not until we have something substancial anyway.” Even though the staff was already working on a speech, and internally they had even booked the Press room for a speech from the Vice-President. But it was hard to write something when you don’t know what it should say.

“Lovely smile, ma’am.” He mocked, in a hushed tone, almost once they were inside, protected from the prying eyes of company. “Somewhere deep in Missouri someone in their mother’s basement is starting a theory that, somehow, this is your fault.” He offered the coffee again, without the lid, marginally less scalding. He raised and eyebrow, as if to say this is the best I can offer you right now.

With the faintest of shrugs, Lorena decided to accept the cup. Making Aaron’s life miserable was a beloved pastime, but the demand for caffeine had won. For now. “Ain’t something always?” she retorted, taking a sip. Better. “Remember when the hurricane hit Georgia, and that preacher son of a gun started a petition to name it after me? Because the Looord had sent it as a punishment for my sins?”

The main hallway reminded a tad of a natural disaster too: hushed whispers, poached-egg eyes, five phones in every grasp. Yet they all stopped to greet her.

Which, admittedly, was kind of nice. So she greeted back, shooting the occasional who-in-the-name-of-sweet-fuck-was-that look Aaron’s way.

But as they turned left toward the office, her focus shifted entirely to him. “You know, all this puts me in a horn-tossin’ mood.” Edward Johnson would’ve had a plan by now. Lorena already had four. “If I was a male VP, I’d be right there in the Oval making the decision with her.” She balanced the coffee in her hand, musing. “The statements would be out by noon, and then we’d crack a cold one, and… I don’t know, play golf, go to a strip club, whatever. But no. She’s doing this on purpose.”

#( aaron. )#*facepalm*

repmeghan‌:

location: capitol building, steps when: 8 am open to: all

Meghan’s thoughts on this morning’s spectacle at the Capitol? There’s no need to mince words: gross. And, frankly, she doesn’t think anyone is asking the right questions, like whose body it is and who killed them ( I mean, right? ) and how they were able to pull this little charade off, anyway. One would think that blowing up fifty percent of the world’s most powerful leaders would increase security measures around here, but clearly she’s the only one with any brain cells in this fucking city.

Meghan supposes she should thank the barista who took forever to make her latte this morning; she at least spared her from staring at a dead body at six in the morning. Of course, all this didn’t stop her from sharing a passionate string of tweets about the country’s need for better veteran services and the strength of their troops and all the accompanying nonsense. Naturally, her Twitter followers ate it up.

Anyway. Meghan stands at the steps of the Capitol Building, looking appropriately distressed for the occasion, lest any reporters choose to pan their cameras her way. She glances at the person to her left, seizing an opportunity.

“Terrible, isn’t it?” She asks, her voice heavy. “I can’t help but think about their family.”

Look solemn for the cameras, ma’am, they said. Don’t do the fake cry. Because you sound like a hyena on crack, ma’am, they also said.

Prepare to suffer through small talk, ma’am, they never said.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Lorena makes a mental note to strangle Aaron after the lunch break. Mother of pearl. The only thing she hates more than clutching greasy hands. Plus, it’s Meghan Hernández, of all people, yapping about family to her face, so it’s clear why it’s taking a mighty lot not to snort. Or chuckle.

But instead, she bites the inside of her cheek, leans in, and manages, “Yes. Terrible.” Not enough. Even she can tell. “It must be, uh... terrible for the family too, of course. To have their whatever so brutally murdered and somehow smuggled all the way to the Capitol Hill, despite the, I would assume, maximized security measures. Makes one wonder.” A beat. “About life, I mean.”

#( meghan. )

kingsleyers‌:

She was sat at a table in a cafe not far from the Capitol Building, her eyes closed and her phone sat face down on the table next to her hand — which was currently tracing her nail against the edge of its porcelain; she’d opted for a real cup — as she let out a low hum.

People kept jostling into her table, and once in a while she’d open her eyes, looking first at the laptop in front of her, closed though it was, before up at the people jockeying for their position in the line to get a drink. She should be used to this, used to all of it, and yet she seemed… annoyed?

“If you need a seat, just ask.” Allison offered seemingly to no one, as it was directed in any particular direction, but the offer was open, and if someone had been looking, well… now they knew.

At last: a face that didn’t beg for her to punch it. Actively.

She took the seat opposite of Allison, signaling her assistant to wait with the gorillas.

“Thanks, darlin’. Well, we’ve got about three minutes before someone calls the reporters on us.” Cue a theatrical glance over her shoulder. “Enough to buy me a drink and”—Lorena’s lips quirked—"share an interesting fact about your day.”

#idk what this is but roll w it xo #( allison. )

amberlygilmore‌:

Amberly was at a bakery when the news from the capitol broke out. She had left her paid-for yet untouched bagel and coffee on the table and practically sprinted out of the bakery in her Louboutin heels and into her car. By the time she reached the office, it was still a little too early but many people were already there. She instantly walked into the meeting room where most of her staff has already gathered and scheduled a press briefing for that evening. After they threw updates on the events at her, Amberly assigned them their tasks and walked out of the meeting room –– she needed a clear head and some coffee while she processed things; her right hand was already nervously clicking on her pen in agitation. “Hi,” she greeted the person who happened to be right outside the meeting room. “What a morning, huh?” Amberly remarked sarcastically. “Any updates on your end?”

The interns she had spotted upon entrance looked like they’d accidentally sat on cactus, there was ruckus in the meeting room, and Jane Anderson’s Press Secretary was adamant on breaking her pen. Ergo, no statement had been released yet.

Lorena held back a groan. Was she drawing suspense for effect? Would she be delivering her speech on a flying unicorn?

“What a morning indeed.” She made sure to mimic Amberly Gilmore’s sarcastic tone. “Just a few thousand missed calls.” A few thousand missed gold mines was more like it: both Georgia senators, her VA connections, all the dear old friends from the RNC. And yet here she was, waiting on Plain Jane to even consider her options.

Lorena’s grip on the phone tightened as her nails clack, clack, clacked against the screen.

Patience was the key, yes. But fuck.

“Nevermind that, though.” She took a step closer, slipping the damned thing back into her coat pocket. Her features softened in mock-concern. “Is the President okay?

#( amberly. )

aaronxwright‌:

@lorenakeller

He was awaken by a phone call. Then two more. By the time that his phone was marking (5) missed calls he realized that his day was about to start even before sunrise.

“Good morning, ma’am.” He stood outside Lorena’s car, holding the door open with his right hand and a coffee cup on the left one. This was going to be a hard day and it would be slightly better if she was on her coffee. “It’s bad out here.” He simply said, even though he was sure she saw the parade of journalists and photographers already camping out outside the west wing.

Lorena hissed: the coffee was hotter than six shades of hell.

“Jesus Christ, Aaron, you could fry an egg on this thing!” Her hand fell back to the side, leaving the fuming cup in his. “Make it normal.”

But there would be no time for a peaceful breakfast that morning. Nope, they were gonna be busy as a one-legged cat in a sandbox. And thank fuck for that.

Flash. The Vice President braced herself for the vultures, masking the glee with her ever-perfect posture and a tight-lipped smile. Except she probably shouldn't have been smiling. As hilarious as the fact someone had managed to sneak past the security and leave a whole dead human on their doorstep was. She couldn't risk being called the Wicked Witch of the West Wing. Again.

Flash. Flash. As they approached the stairs, the bodyguards stepped forward to shield them from the crowd.

Lorena glanced sideways at her Chief of Staff. “Do I talk to them? Or do we wait for Little Bo-Peep to show herself first?”

#( aaron. )

( robin wright. fifty-one. she/her ). ! the washington post reports — LORENA KELLER, from MONTICELLO, GEORGIA has been appointed to the position of THE VICE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. they are known to be NARCISSISTIC and sometimes even POWER-HUNGRY, but their supporters will tell you that they are AUTHORITATIVE and are also BOLD. the post believes they are an interesting pick for the position due to their stance on GUN CONTROL. but with this white house, we’ll have to see how it goes.

#survivorintro #this is just a rough draft but im an impatient hoe #misogyny tw #alcoholism tw #homophobia tw

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i'd be the man