#Mark Mueller

[mikyapixie]

Ducktales premiered 37 years ago today!!!😁😁😁

My mom & I just sang the intro when I told her it their anniversary today!!!🤣🤣🤣

[marsipanic]

The Gods’ Mark

Chapter 3 Part 1

The kings of Saligia are pretty misogynistic, even the nice ones at times. Claudia and Cordelia have to deal with them, and when their father is brought up, it makes them even colder to the foreign rulers. However, they start to make friends with Violet and Sherry and there is some fluffy girl time shooting arrows together before the boys ruin it. 

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Hildegarde had called for a meeting with the Saligian kings in order to discuss future plans regarding the portal. As Claudia was captain of the Black Guard, and Cordelia was the Imperial Scholar, they, too, were called forth. There had been little discussion about it, despite the work that both princesses had been putting in to discovering it’s origin, and as a few days had passed since the arrival of the kings and their entourages, it was time.

Claudia approached the council room with Cordelia by her side, holding dossiers to her chest. They nodded to doormen who promptly opened the doors and announced their arrival.

Immediately, Claudia felt all of the eyes of the kings on her. They borrowed into her and Cordelia like knives into a decadent roast and it was all she could do to not snarl. A quick glance at Lia confirmed that she too was feeling their scrutiny. The two looked straight ahead at their grandmother, and they curtsied, deeply.

“Our apologies for our tardiness, Grandmother, My Lords,” Claudia said. “We were gathering the rest of the mana readings from just earlier today.”

“Excellent,” Hildegarde said, and reached out her hands for Cordelia to give the dossiers. “What have you found?”

“It’s an exorbitant amount of magic. Too much to be coming from one person alone, which should be obvious. The odd thing is there seems to be no kind of suspension magic, so the consistent mana levels could be interpreted as disconcerting,” Cordelia said.

“Remarkable,” Klaus said quietly.

“Indeed,” Lia continued. “Where we have seen similar magic in our own forces, this prolonged consistency gives us reason to believe—”

“Is it true the princesses command your armies and lead magical research? They do not depend on the leadership of an elder? A male, perhaps?” Klaus rambled on, ignoring the look of incredulity on both Claudia and Lia’s expression.

“Where is their father?” Roc interrupted. “I heard you had a son. Where is he?”

Frost could be crystallized on the ceiling with how cold and silent the room became. Clauda heard Cordelia intake a sharp breath and they both stood peculiarly still.

How dare they, Claudia thought and turned to tell them so. It was not their business, and they had no right to—

“My son, Alphonse, had a remarkable affinity for magic, like my granddaughters,” Hildegarde said before she could open her mouth. “He was brilliant and innovative. Unfortunately, he passed during an accident in his laboratory. It was tragic, and their mother fell ill afterwards. Her Highnesses remain in strong health, however, and it is imperative that we finish hearing this report.”

“Ah, my apologies…” Klaus said, meekly.

The meeting concluded with each of the kings agreeing to surveil their kingdoms for any abnormalities. As soon as they exited, Claudia exhaled loudly.

“Quite,” Lia said. “The sooner we can send them back and close this blighted portal, the better.”

“They can be ignorant numbskulls, and have some archaic views,” Hildegarde agreed. “However, if we find that we can’t close the portal, keeping relationships steady will be key to avoiding an all-out war.”

“They…were curious about Father,” Claudia said. The room once again went silent, and she could see her grandmother contemplative eyes shining in her direction.

“You let me worry about that,” Hildegarde said, finally. “In the meantime, do continue trying to make nice. If not for yourselves, then for my sake.”

When she put it like that, neither Lia nor Claudia could refuse. Begrudgingly, they promised that they would and made their way to the training grounds to work off some of their aggravation.

“The unmitigated gall,” Claudia said. “As though they’ve never met a woman who could contend with them before.”

Cordelia, bow in hand, took aim at one of the distant targets. She charged with mana, and drew back, tightly. When she released, the arrow whipped by, an aura of golden magic encapsulating it, before it struck the bullseye, splintering the wood and nearly toppling the target over.

“Imagining it was King Invidia?” Claudia asked. “Or the King Avari?”

“Both,” Lia said, wiping sweat from her brow. “It looks like we have company.”

Peering from across the way, was the Princess Sherry Invidia. With her, was a beautiful woman, with a full bust, dressed in Luxurean colors. Their eyes were wide with awe and curiosity.

“Do you think her dear papa’s brain would melt if we taught her to shoot?” Claudia asked, with a smirk.

“Let’s find out, shall we. Grandmother did say to make friends,” Cordelia smiled, and beckoned for them to come over.

They each started, exchanged a glance, and rushed over from where they stood.

All four curtsied in tandem.

“Hello—”

“It’s an honor—”

“Forgive me—”

“How rude of us—”

They all froze, unsure of how to proceed, or who was to talk first, when they all burst into laughter.

“Good heavens, forgive our blundering,” Sherry said.

“Don’t fret. We are just as much to blame,” Claudia reassured. “We have not met, personally. I am Claudia, and this is my sister, Cordelia.”

“Lia, if you please,” Lia said.

“I am Sherry Invidia,” she said. Her eyes were almost the same glimmering gold as Lia’s, and her pink hair cascaded down her back. “This is my friend—”

“Violet Mueller, Your Highnesses,” the beautiful woman said. “But you may call me Letty, please.”

“A pleasure to meet you, My Ladies,” Claudia smiled, broadly. “What brings you out here this afternoon?”

“We were just admiring your incredible skills,” Sherry said, with a blush. “You are both so accomplished and impressive.”

“I’ve never seen someone charge an arrow with such power, and not tire. Is it terribly difficult?” Letty asked.

“Would you like us to show you how,” Lia said, and their eyes grew wide.

“I couldn’t possibly impose,” Sherry said. “I also don’t know how to shoot an arrow, I’ve never learned--”

“It is no trouble. Come, stand here,” Claudia gripped her hand and brought her to position. “Here, now relax your shoulders, keep them level, that’s right—”

They instructed both Sherry and Letty in holding the bow, and how to focus their magical energy through it and project the arrow. Both the Invidian princess and the Luxurean valet were thrilled, and before long all four women were laughing and exchanging quips and praise through every trial-and-error attempt. They hadn’t had as much fun since the Saligian’s had arrived, and so it was a welcome change of pace.

Finally, Sherry had managed to create a small bubble of mana around her arrow, and when she released it, it zipped forward faster than before, and struck the target, only slightly off the bullseyes, with a satisfying thunk!

“I did it! Letty, did you see?” Sherry exclaimed, nearly jumping up and down with joy at her new accomplishment.

“Excellent work,” Lia said as Claudia lightly applauded. Brilliant smiles lit up their faces, as they watched their guests, and new companions, celebrate Sherry’s new victory.

“Just so, Sherry, I knew you could do it!” A voice shouted from a distance, and they all turned. Heading toward them was the Prince Rio, jogging forward with a sword at his hip, and waving in their direction.

“Rio! How long were you watching?” Sherry asked.

“Since the first go of it! We all were,” he said and pointed to the spectator’s box from above them.

There, staring down at them, were the other six princes. Roy was waving and smiled, softly, while Lynt leaned against Prince Guy. His scowl remained the same, but there was something unreadable in his expression. Next to him was the unimpressed Lance Ira, an amused Fenn Luxure, and finally, Toa, whose face kept its icy countenance.

The smiles fell from Claudia and Lia’s expression like rotten fruit from a tree.

“Right then, should we have a sparring match? I would love to have a crack. I was told by some of the servants you both are amazing swordsmen—er…women,” Rio stammered.

“I’m afraid we have other appointments,” Claudia’s voice was flat and emotionless, and betrayed nothing of the frustration she was feeling at being seen so candidly by the foreign princes. As if it wasn’t bad enough that they only saw her and Lia as some means to an end, now they might take their friendliness with Sherry and Violet as a sign they were warming to them.

“Oh, I see,” Rio said, and frowned, but only for a moment. “Busy, you two are, running an empire. We’ll see you at dinner tonight, then? I can’t wait to try everything at the feast. The food at the ball was impeccable.”

“What Rio means to say,” Sherry interrupted. “Is that we are looking forward to your company later.”

“Thank you for taking your time to teach us, Claudia, Cordelia,” Letty said offering a sympathetic smile.

“Of course,” Lia said, but offered no such smile back, and with Claudia they curtsied and took their leave, leaving Sherry and Letty with concerned expressions, and Rio perplexed.

[gameofthunder66]

The Good Student (Trailer) 2006

-watched 9/19/2023- 2 stars- on Tubi (free)

[abdussamadpramanik]

Several individuals have been charged in connection with the death of Matthew Perry. (Source: CNN)

Five individuals have been charged in connection with the 2023 death of actor Matthew Perry. Those are....Read more

Visit For More: https://shorturl.at/vcdU7

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[trickricksblog08]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗶𝘁𝗺𝗼 𝗟𝗶𝘀𝘁: 𝗧𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗕𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗨𝗻𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗔𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮

Where They Go One They Go All

1. Hillary Clinton

2. Bill Clinton

3. Nancy Pelosi

4. John Podesta

5. John Brennan

6. James Comey

7. Maxine Waters

8. Adam Schiff

9. Hunter Biden

10. George W. Bush

11. Dr. Anthony Fauci

12. Huma Abedin

13. Bill Gates

14. Anthony Wiener

15. George Soros

16. Lindsey Graham

17. Mitch McConnell

18. Kevin McCarthy

19. Chuck Schumer

20. Kamala Harris

21. Robert Mueller

22. Mike Pence

23. Joe Biden

24. James Clapper

24. Lloyd Austin

25. Dick Cheney

26. John Kerry

27. Alexander Soros

28. Loretta Lynch

29. Andrew McCabe

30. Peter Strzok

31. Lisa Page

32. James Baker

33. Eric Holder

34. Tony Podesta

35. Susan Rice

36. Harry Reid

37. Paul Ryan

38. Debbie Wasserman Schultz

39. Sally Yates

40. Mitt Romney

41. Jerry Nadler

42. Klaus Schwab

43. Michelle Obama

44. Sally Yates

45. Andrew Cuomo

46. Herbert Raymond McMaster

47. Deborah Birx

48. Mark Zuckerberg

49. Nikki Haley

The17Letter

[a-way-we-go]

determination and response

anne carson (the glass essay), der herr des waldes, hildegarde flanner (to a dear friend), margaret atwood (a fortification), das herz der schlange, erika meitner (staking a claim), nick nice, hds, marion strobel (growth), hds, hanif abdurraqib (they can’t kill us until they kill us), hds, mary oliver (mornings at blackwater), mary oliver (the journey), hds, raena shirali (conjuring anew), hdw, austrian national library, lisel mueller (heartland), thor alvis, hds, nicole lee (even the dust), hds, nicole lee (even the dust), hds, tim etchells (please come back), langston hughes (tired), ylona maria rybka, hds, mark haddon (trees)

[angelicguy]

Today marks the release of The Decemberists’ eighth studio LP, the synth-accented I’ll Be Your Girl, and fans who opted to pick up a physical copy of the album may have noticed a surprising name in the liner notes. Special counsel Robert Mueller, the man tasked with investigating Russian interference in the 2016 United States elections, is thanked by Colin Meloy and his merry band of musicians.

[sr333999999999]

MARK A. KLINGLER FOR CLEVELAND MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY / RAYMOND CARVER, "WHAT WE TALK ABOUT WHEN WE TALK ABOUT LOVE" / PAUL RAND, "THOUGHTS ON DESIGN" / AMERICAN BROADCASTING CO. / 20TH CENTURY FOX / JULIUS CAESAR, HANS-FREIDRICH MUELLER, "COMENTARII DE BELLO GALLICO" / ELLEN LUPTON, "THINKING WITH TYPE" / GUY WINDSOR, "MASTERING THE ART OF ARMS, VOLUME TWO"

[beardedmrbean]

A U.S. judge in Florida on Monday dismissed the criminal case accusing Donald Trump of illegally holding onto classified documents after leaving office, handing the Republican former president another major legal victory as he seeks a return to the White House.

U.S. District Judge Aileen Cannon, who was appointed to the bench by Trump, ruled that Special Counsel Jack Smith, who is leading the prosecution, was unlawfully appointed to his role and did not have the authority to bring the case.

It marked another blockbuster legal triumph for Trump, following a July 1 U.S. Supreme Court ruling that as a former president he has immunity from prosecution for many of his actions in office.

Cannon's ruling came two days after Trump was the target of an assassination attempt at a campaign rally in western Pennsylvania. Trump is set to be formally named the Republican presidential nominee in Milwaukee this week challenging Democratic President Joe Biden in the Nov. 5 U.S. election.

Prosecutors are likely to appeal the ruling. Courts in other cases have repeatedly upheld the ability of the U.S. Justice Department to appoint special counsels to handle certain politically sensitive investigations.

A spokesperson for Smith did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

At the very least, Cannon's ruling throws the future of the case into doubt. Smith is also prosecuting Trump in federal court in Washington on charges involving the former president's attempts to overturn the 2020 election, but his lawyers have not made a similar challenge to the special counsel in that case.

In the documents case, Trump was indicted on charges that he willfully retained sensitive national security documents at his Mar-a-Lago estate after leaving office in 2021 and obstructed government efforts to retrieve the material.

Two others, Trump personal aide Walt Nauta and Mar-a-Lago property manager Carlos De Olivera, were also charged with obstructing the investigation.

Trump's lawyers challenged the legal authority for Attorney General Merrick Garland's 2022 decision to appoint Smith to lead investigations into Trump. They argued that the appointment violated the U.S. Constitution because Smith's office was not created by Congress and the special counsel was not confirmed by the Senate.

Lawyers in Smith's office disputed Trump's claims, arguing that there was a well-settled practice of using special counsels to manage politically sensitive investigations.

"This ruling flies in the face of about 20 years of institutional precedent, conflicts with rulings issued in both the Mueller investigation and in D.C. with respect to Jack Smith himself," said Bradley Moss, an attorney who specializes in national security.

Moss also said the ruling raises the question of whether Smith will seek to have Cannon removed from the case.

Cannon's ruling is the latest and most consequential in a series of decisions she has made favoring Trump and expressing skepticism about the conduct of prosecutors. The judge previously delayed a trial indefinitely while considering a flurry of Trump’s legal challenges.

In an unusual move, she allowed three outside lawyers, including two who sided with Trump, to argue during a court hearing focused on Trump's challenge to Smith's appointment.

Conservative Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas also provided a boost to Trump's challenge to the special counsel. In an opinion agreeing with the court's decision to grant Trump broad immunity in the election-related case, Thomas questioned whether Smith's appointment was lawful using similar arguments to those made by Trump's lawyers.

Garland appointed Smith, a public corruption and international war crimes prosecutor, to give investigations into Trump a degree of independence from the Justice Department under Biden's administration.

[garadinervi]

Schema: World as Diagram, Essay by Raphael Rubinstein, Marlborough Gallery, New York, NY, 2023

Artists: Minjeong An, Shusaku Arakawa, Jennifer Bartlett, Gianfranco Baruchello, Forrest Bess, Joseph Beuys, Thomas Chimes, Mike Cloud, Janet Cohen, Alan Davie, Guy de Cointet, Agnes Denes, David Diao, Lydia Dona, León Ferrari, Charles Gaines, Renee Gladman, Joanne Greenbaum, Lane Hagood, Jane Hammond, Hilma’s Ghost, Thomas Hirschhorn, Alfred Jensen, Christine Sun Kim, Karla Knight, Guillermo Kuitca, Paul Laffoley, Barry Le Va, Mark Lombardi, Chris Martin, Stephen Mueller, Matt Mullican, Loren Munk, Antoni Muntadas, Paul Pagk, Yulia Pinkusevich, Miguel Angel Ríos, Leslie Roberts, Heather Bause Rubinstein, Julian Schnabel, Amy Sillman, Wadada Leo Smith, Gael Stack, Tavares Strachan, Jimmy and Angie Tchooga, Dannielle Tegeder, Bernar Venet, Ouattara Watts, Melvin Way, Trevor Winkfield

Exhibition: May 11 – August 15, 2023

(On the way of Leo de Goede Books)

[jayarrarr]

Undone

Listen: I think I loved you before magicians invented time from matter, marking the now distinct from then and therefore. When we first loved, the blurred lines allowed us infinity. Our substance formed individuals infused with shared energy borrowed from ancient shatters. Only philosophers or those in love speak of souls. Reuniting means existing across time means histories of worlds reconnecting with a touch. How else to explain the instant I knew where I belonged? What if I find I can't exist except with you? Our souls tethered we seek some relief from the tension. I wish you knew how I break without you. How I shatter with. How your breath in my ear undoes me. How I hearten the feeling of coming undone. Such you only feel when sparks speak lightness. There was a time I could breathe. I've forgotten how my cells aligned without yours. When we didn't know there was such a thing as fate and we were both just waiting for tomorrow to bring us something different from today— something closer to the we we've been for close to a thousand years and change. But who's counting? When the dust settles I will still have been always and forever yours. © 2023 Jennifer R.R. Mueller

[regularkyle]

kenny mccormick as south park's liver

jennifer's body - diablo cody | prometheus bound - frans snyders & peter paul rubens | tumblr user heavybend | sisyphus - marc chagall | imaginary paintings - lisel mueller | black in deep red - mark rothko

[abellinthecupboard]

Picking Raspberries

Once the thicket opens and lets you enter and the first berry dissolves on your tongue, you will remember nothing of your old life. You can stay in that country of sun and silence as long as you like. To return, you have only to look at your arms and discover the long, red marks. You will have invented pain, which has no place there.

— Lisel Mueller

[rukbat3]

Babylon 5 Rewatch - The Quality of Mercy

This is a post I originally wrote several years ago for Mark Oshiro’s Mark Watches blog. I don’t really plan to edit them before posting, so there may be some references that don’t make sense. If you see words that look like gibberish, they are actually rot13, which was our way of discussing spoilers. There are plugins you can install to decode the text (Cryptext is the one I use), or you can copy/paste to rot13.com, or just ignore it.

I always forget how good this episode is, falling right between “Babylon Squared” and the season finale. It’s probably also because, while the episode brings up some interesting concepts, it’s not always pleasant to watch—namely, any part with Karl Mueller, who is way too creepy. But I’m finding myself with a lot more to say than I thought I would, so buckle in! (Or, I guess, just skip it. That’s also an option!)

So let’s dive straight into the deep end with this one. “The Quality of Mercy” introduces two different sci-fi concepts of capital punishment, and contrasts them to a certain extent, although it doesn’t really get too deep into the repercussions of either. Jr'yy unir gb jnvg hagvy bar bs zl snibevgr rcvfbqrf va frnfba guerr sbe gung.

The first method is the “death of personality,” something which appears to have been made possible by the existence of telepaths to enforce it, although a machine is mentioned which actually carries out the physical mindwipe. This appears to be fairly well-established as a punishment in murder cases, and was undoubtedly adopted as a more humane alternative to lethal injection or the electric chair. But is it? I’m not sure I see much difference. At the end of the process, the original person is still dead. Yes, their body is still walking around, able to be “of use to society,” but everything that makes that person an individual has been erased. Also, Mueller seems to imply that the newly created personality will be put to work doing manual labor—but this new person won’t have done anything wrong! It’s the question once again of whether Angel should be punished for Angelus’s crimes. And for me, at least, the answer is even more clear in this case than that one: No. “Death of personality” as a punishment is a travesty of justice all around, made worse because it allows people to feel good about themselves while at the same time inflicting even more punishment on the innocent.

This is contrasted with the alien healing device found by Dr. Laura Rosen. Both of these methods of punishment have in common that they serve a dual purpose of punishing the wrongdoer while benefiting society as a whole, and the alien healing device seems likely to eventually result in the death of the user, just like with death of personality. But it seems to me that the difference is that with the alien healing device, the one being forced to serve society is the one who actually committed the crime.

But I like Dr. Franklin’s idea better: Ask people to volunteer to donate some of their life energy in small increments to help others, just like donating blood. (The only question would be whether life energy is something your body can replace, or if you are shortening your life in small increments whenever you use it. That might be a deal-breaker!)

[season 4] Vg'f whfg gbb onq guvf fhttrfgvba bs Qe. Senaxyva'f nccneragyl arire znqr vg vagb gur svyr Znephf sbhaq. Jung jrer lbh guvaxvat, Fgrcura?! Gnxr orggre abgrf!

This subplot has a couple of other interesting features as well. We find out that Dr. Franklin has been running an illicit clinic in Downbelow because he doesn’t like the way Babylon 5’s (Earth’s?) healthcare system excludes certain people. He is willing to bend, or even break, the rules for the sake of helping people he feels need help. We have seen this character trait before, in “Believers” (ugh), naq jr jvyy frr vg ntnva va n fyvtugyl qvssrerag jnl va, r.t., "N Enpr Guebhtu Qnex Cynprf".

And although Ivanova isn’t in this episode much, we also learn something about her character when she discovers what Franklin has been up to. Her objection is not so much that he has been doing something wrong, as she too recognizes the need for the service he is providing, but that she was not already “in the loop,” so to speak. Her defining character trait is not, as it is for Dr. Franklin, a need to help people; instead it is a need to know what is going on around her so she can be prepared for all eventualities. This would make her a good second-in-command, but possibly exhausting to be in a relationship with. I wonder how much this is a result of her upbringing: her mother’s suicide when she was young (naq jr svaq bhg yngre gung ure zbgure qryvorengryl tbg ure bhg bs gur ubhfr gung qnl), her brother’s death in the Minbari war, and her father’s emotional withdrawal. [season 3] Jr jvyy frr guvf punenpgre genvg rzcunfvmrq rira zber fgebatyl va frnfba guerr jura jr svaq bhg gung fur nyernql xarj nobhg gur Enatref, qrfcvgr abg univat orra gbyq, naq va ubj hapbzsbegnoyr fur vf jvgu abg orvat noyr gb svg Znephf vagb n arng yvggyr betnavmngvbany obk.

And thus we get Ivanova and Franklin, Partners in Crime!

[season 3] Jr nyfb yrnea va guvf rcvfbqr gung Qe. Ebfra jnf fgevccrq bs ure zrqvpny yvprafr sbe orpbzvat nqqvpgrq gb fgvzf naq nppvqragnyyl unezvat n cngvrag nf n erfhyg. Lbh'q guvax Qe. Senaxyva jbhyq gnxr guvf nf n pnhgvbanel gnyr, ohg nynf!

[season 2] Url, vg'f Ybh! Uv, Ybh! Lbh'er terng. V'z tynq Zhryyre qvqa'g xvyy lbh.

So there was a very brief scene where Dr. Franklin is coming to visit Dr. Rosen and she is just finishing up with a young female patient. The young patient only has one or two brief lines thanking Dr. Rosen, and her face is partly obscured by her hair, but something about her struck me as familiar. It turns out the actress is Constance Zimmer, and this was her second role ever, but since then she’s gone on to play recurring characters on a bunch of shows, including Rosalind Price on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.!

Moving on to the other (and funnier) subplot, but in keeping with the theme, [season 4] Url, vg'f gur (shgher) Ertrag! Uv, shgher Ertrag! V unq gbgnyyl sbetbggra ur nccrnerq guvf rneyl ba gur fubj. Pbagvahvgl!

Londo is being encouraged to develop allies among the other races, and for some reason (opportunism, most likely, and because he thinks Lennier will be an easy mark), he decides to make Lennier the first victim of his overtures of friendship. And that’s extremely lucky for us, because it means we are treated to the buddy-cop duo of Londo and Lennier! What could go wrong? ;)

(Incidentally, what do you suppose would happen if Buddy Cops Londo and Lennier went up against Ivanova and Franklin, Partners in Crime? My first instinct was that I&F would run rings around them, but Lennier gave us a glimpse of some impressive hidden skills in this episode. That spin kick, for one! He might just manage to outsmart all three of them. :))

Anyway, first Londo takes Lennier to a bar/strip club, and I guess we get confirmation that Lennier is interested in women, although there’s also the possibility that his interest is at least partly sociological in nature. But the main point of the scene is Londo shadily trying to trick Lennier into drinking some alcohol, and what I love about this scene is that it is actually a cautionary tale about not considering the consequences of your actions. Londo’s “harmless joke” could have had serious repercussions, not just for Lennier, but for himself and everyone else in the bar (especially as we find out later about Lennier’s martial arts training). V nyfb ybir gung gur Zvaonev ynpx bs gbyrenapr sbe nypbuby vfa'g fbzrguvat gung jnf whfg hfrq nf n wbxr ba Ybaqb va guvf bar rcvfbqr naq gura sbetbggra nobhg, ohg pbafvfgragyl erzrzorerq guebhtubhg gur frevrf. Pbagvahvgl!

Then Londo finds out that Lennier is an expert at probability, and we are treated to the brilliant sequence of Londo trying to teach Lennier, a character without an ounce of guile, how to play poker. Actually, I’m a little surprised by Londo’s choice here, since poker is not a partner game, so he’s basically teaching Lennier how to beat him in the future! Anyway, somehow Lennier is winning despite his total lack of ability to bluff, but the game is cut short when the other players discover that Londo is (unsurprisingly) a cheater, and he is only saved by the delightful discovery which I have alluded to before that Lennier, in addition to being a student of history and an expert in probability, is also skilled in hand-to-hand combat!

And in the end, they’re called on the carpet by Sinclair, who I suddenly realized hadn’t been in the episode at all before now(!), and Lennier covers for Londo, much to Londo’s surprise. From the expression on Sinclair’s face, he definitely knows what’s up, but I think he’s too amused by the whole thing to pursue it. :D

Favorite scene: Really, I love this whole subplot, but it all culminates in this last scene, where we can see that Londo and Lennier really have bonded, at least a little bit, and there is an actual exchange of cultural knowledge. Londo learns that in Minbari culture, it is considered an honor to help another save face, and Lennier learns … um … something a bit more personal.

Lennier: “I’m going to take a vow of silence concerning this entire conversation.”

Ohg sbeghangryl sbe hf, gur fubj qbrfa'g gnxr n ibj bs fvyrapr, nf guvf vf lrg <em>nabgure</em> fznyy qrgnvy sebz guvf rcvfbqr gung ergheaf qbja gur ebnq, gb uvynevbhf rssrpg. ;)

[universal-ren-kin]

You got it, a twofer it is. "Marked" is my baby right now, up to a nice 444 hits on ao3. It's hard to pick a favorite part but if I had to, it'd be...

“I take you watched the footage,” Treize began. At Heero’s nod, he hummed. “I figured as much. I am giving this case to another agent. Your emotions would cloud your logic.” He held his hand up at Heero’s immediate loud protest. “No arguments. I want to find Wufei, too. But as passionate as you are about the man, you may overlook important things. I’m giving this to Agents Alex and Mueller. They’re qualified in kidnappings and I have faith in their abilities.”

Anything else Treize may have said was drowned out in Heero’s shock. He was off the case looking for his lover. He was forbidden from looking for Wufei. Alex and Mueller would be looking for him… Heero did not trust those two. There had always been something off about them from the start and he was sure they would somehow bungle this. Heero didn’t notice how hard he was gripping his coffee cup until the thin paper crumpled under his grip and hot coffee poured over his hand. Treize watched in shock as Heero didn’t react and made up his mind.

“Agent Yuy, you are back on leave as of this moment,” Treize declared. “You are of unsound mind so long as this case is active and there’s no telling how long it will be active. You are to act as a civilian for the foreseeable future. You will still receive pay but if I catch one single hint of you trying to work this case on your own, I will terminate your employment for insubordination before you can breathe. Am I clear, Agent Yuy?”

As for the Untitled Oz fic, I don't have a blurb to share but I *can* tell you about it. The basis for this fic is that, at some point in his life, Wufei is actually rescued by OZ against an attack by the Alliance. It's o the point where he can't easily return to the pilots but he's not exactly a prisoner. It's designed around various Steven Universe songs and my favorite so far is "Do It For Her". I can share my outline for it, here!

Training between wufei and Zechs

Zechs realizes Wufei has NO IDEA HOW TO FIGHT

Wufei admits he’s a scholar not a fighter, mobile suit or not

Zechs trains him in practical mobile suit fighting and swordfighting, teaches him to use a gun and fistfight

Bonding over doing it for “Him”

Zechs realizes that while Wufei’s absolutely insufferable, he’s not a total idiot and can absolutely take orders and isn’t a terrible fighter

Thank you for asking, this was fun!