#stand with mueller

[5yn]

[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.

[green-typewriterz]

can you write an art donaldson fic where the reader has been in love with him for the past ten years but it’s obviously unrequited love… until art divorces tashi.

ps: can it be a lil angsty? I love it

Obsessed with your ex

Art Donaldson x reader, Tashi x reader if your looking at the subtext

Ask: above

summary: you're in love with Art...but due to a rather obvious factor known as Tashi Duncan, it's severely unrequited.

Warnings: none?? I guess swearing

Author Notes: sorry this took so long love!!! I was in a major editing groove for a long while meaning my writing got unceremoniously sent to the backburner... but i'm back with this as a sort of consolation!! also i was listneing to teeth by lady gaga on loop while writing this which is why theres some very gay subtext between you and tashi...

word count: 1826

Tashi fucking Duncan. That’s how she was known in your subconscious - though you weren’t sure if it was a positive or negative thing. You wanted to be her, of course you did. She had everything you wanted. A natural skill for tennis, perfect looks and a close (confusing) relationship with both Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

Obviously, you were horrendously in love with Art and it hurt to an almost embarrassing degree when some more crass girls in your tennis class began to gossip about Tashi making out with him and Patrick. You weren’t sure where they could’ve got the information, so you told yourself it wasn’t true - a rumour. Regardless, it hurt. Maybe it hurt just as much as Art Donaldson having no clue you felt how you did.

You were reasonably close with Tashi, close enough to call yourself a friend but it was reasonably clear to most that you wanted what she had (and maybe you also wanted her as much as Zweig and Donaldson though that was a deeper emotion). It was interesting to watch how she’d interact with each boy as if they were pawns, something that was increasingly clear at that fateful match.

You could hear the crunch throughout the entire court, though the scream was what rattled you. Art leapt from his place in the stands, running as if she were going to die. You stood, racket still in hand, shifting awkwardly in the absence of play before making your way over to your friend to check on her.

Art knew you were trying to be helpful, his small, thin lipped smile showing this clearly, but Tashi didn’t want you there. So that was that. You let him take over and rocked back on your shins, eyes tracking his hands that gently held her head. A more desperate side of you seemed to hope that it had been you who had broken your leg so he would be holding you instead.

This accident, though sadding, seemed to be detrimental to the success of your career. It was as though you had escaped the shadow of Tashi fucking Duncan and could finally play your best. You slowly but surely took Tashi’s career, the trophies she should’ve won, the brand deals she should’ve posed for. You weren’t ever really sure how to feel - though, you had always wanted to be her.

___

TEN YEARS LATER

Ten years pass quickly yet with excruciating slowness and you found yourself at a peak in your career, winning match after match. This particular one was no different. You were playing against Mueller - a match you knew you’d easily win due to the girl's childish anger.

Your eyes scan the crowd, seeing who had bothered to watch a match with such an obvious ending and you were shocked to see an old face in the crowd. Tashi fucking Duncan. She was sitting comfortably in a lacoste shirt - one that was presumably Art’s - with a large pair of rather reflective sunglasses but her small smile said everything.

It was the nod she sent you that sent a shiver through you. She wanted you to win, told you to win all with just a nod. It was like she wrapped her arms around you and whispered it - you stood in place for a moment, pausing for longer than usual before your serve. The breath you let out was shaky but determined. She told you to win. And so of course you did.

You were the one to approach her after, thanking her for coming and other similar niceties. Eventually though, these ran out and you resorted to the questions you actually wanted to ask.

“How’s Art?”

“Tired.”

Oh. You had expected a longer response at the least. Then again, you hadn't expected her to be so honest - it wasn’t something she was known for. You stood in silence for a bit, still wiping the sweat of the game from your brow when you said, “why are you here?”

Tashi paused, smiling. She had wanted you to ask. “I wanted to see you beat that racist bitch.” The reply was blunt and, yet again, honest. You laughed gently and your eyes trailed to Mueller who was red faced and whining, eyes stroppily trained on the floor.

“Are you happy I did win?”

“No. You’re where I should be. But good for you.”

You paused and almost let her walk away but found your words before it would be a moment too late and followed after - if you were watching yourself do this you would’ve kicked yourself for how pathetic you looked. “Tashi, I idolised you. You had… still have everything I want.”

Tashi’s eyebrow raise spoke for her. She wanted to know what you meant, she was giving you a chance to explain yourself without mentioning her husband.

“I just mean I look up to you, as a player, as a coach.” you replied, attempting to save yourself from the embarrassment of the words you had spoken prior. Your thumb idly massaged circles into your palm as she tilted her head to the side, analysing you.

“Y/n, you’re a good player, with a good coach. But you’re too unemotional, too kind,” Tashi replied, voice even and accurate. She was right, you were far too nice on the pitch. You had never found that anger that other players had, never experienced that rage that made a game so entertaining. Tashi was bored.

“So?”

“So be a bitch. God knows most tennis players deserve it.”

You nod, muttering regards toward art.

---

“I watched Y/n play. She was good.” Tashi said idly, sitting on their clean white sofa, brushing through the blonde hair that rested against her shoulder.

Art looked up, eyes worn but curious all the same. “Was she you?” The question was one he had asked often, though he never meant any malice toward you with it. He asked this whenever Tashi watched a tennis player, something to praise her. This time though, her response had changed, her face lifted with a soft smile.

“She could be.”

---

NEW ROCHELLE

You were through to the English open, of course you were, but your coach still thought it a smart idea to get you to play the New Rochelle challenger as a warm up, to get you ready. Part of you felt like you were just there as an advert, as if you had been invited to play for the sake of selling tickets - you weren’t sure how much you minded this idea.

Something unexpected, however, was Art Donaldson and Tashi Donaldson sitting in the stands, watching you play against the poor tennis player who wasn’t handling her current loss well.

Tashi leans toward her husband. “She’s good,” she whispers. She’s testing him, seeing if he can spot what she had.

“She’s too kind.”

Your eyes linger on Art, trailing over his face. You were still horrendously attracted to him, in fact, you weren’t sure that feeling ever left. Tashi, ever vigilant, had realised this - of course she had. Her stare felt so much more grating without her sunglasses. She knew how to change your emotion, she needed you irritated, jealous so she could watch an entertaining match. Her hand gently resting on Art’s thigh seemed to do this.

You win with much more ferocity than you had been known for, something that erupts the crowd, cheers ringing through you. It felt more rewarding somehow, to win this way. You hadn’t been kind. It felt fun.

Tashi’s smile was venomous. She was right about you. Art followed you back to the changing rooms, wanting to congratulate you but instead found you pacing. You looked up to face him, face hot in embarrassment.

“You won.”

“Fuck the win. I couldn’t give less of a shit.”

His brows furrowed as he stepped closer, holding your hand in his to get you to stop pacing. You pulled away but came to a stop in front of him, angry. He stared for a moment before saying, “I thought you liked playing?”

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, shaking. “I do but that’s not what I want. I don’t want to win. I want something else and Tashi knows it but you never did.”

Art’s more confused now, standing silently as you sit down on the locker room bench, head in your hands. “What do you want?”

You scoff and look up, fury dissipating into disappointment toward both him and yourself. “The fact that you still don’t know now tells me everything.”

You let him walk out silently.

---

Art’s game was much more interesting. It was like watching a dance, the way he and Patrick moved was something you had never seen before. Patrick, as per usual, was cocky and irritating - something you had oddly found endearing when you were younger - but it was Art that had you fixed. He was furious, eyes sharp with tears and knuckles white. There was something that only the three of them knew that created this anger, creating such a captivating match.

The only thing, in your opinion, that beat the high emotion of the match was seeing Art after it, face red and shirt slick with sweat. The thing that held your attention, however, was the slight tan line around his finger. He had taken off his wedding ring.

---

A FEW MONTHS LATER - WIMBLEDON

Art was ready to retire and had been for a while, but you were still going, having found a more passionate love for tennis than you had had before. You were warming up before your final match, only an hour or so before playing the finals at the English open when there was a soft knock on the door of your dressing room.

You opened the door to see Art standing there, eyes soft and observant. You let him in, eyes still stuck to his ringless finger. He traced over your features, seemingly committing parts to memory. “You’ll win today,” He said after a while, words as gentle as the smile on his face.

“Maybe. But am I Tashi?”

“You’re better.”

You both laugh quietly, nothing but a few short breaths, then stare at each other. Though it seemed as though that didn’t last long. Art crossed the small distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. He tasted sweet, like strawberries and cream - no doubt from one of the many Wimbledon food trucks that sold them. You leaned into him, hand finding a place on his thin waist. His own calloused hands rested against your hips, his lips moving gently against yours. Eventually, you both pulled apart, foreheads rested against one anothers. Art smiled.

“I know you’ll win. But just for luck.”

He placed a final kiss against the corner of your smile and headed toward the door, sending a final glance in your direction. You knew you were going to win too, though it felt like - in a way - you already had.

[kimium]

I was tagged by @memoryoflife in this post HERE. It is a long chain post and I cannot stand when they get too long, so I'm answering in a new post.

Thanks for the tag! I'm sorry it took me a while to get to it! Let's get started!!!

Tag nine (9) people you'd like to know better

Last song: YouSeeBIGGIRL/T:T by Hiroyuki Sawano (Attack on Titan OST Season 2)

I cannot tell you how much I love this song. All the OST in Attack on Titan are absolute bangers, but this one is easily in my top five favourites. I strongly suggest giving it a listen to!

Currently watching: Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2, Bungou Stray Dogs Season 5, Undead Murder Farce, Sugar Apple Fairy Tale Season 2, (rewatching) Dr. Stone Season 3.

Currently reading: For books it's The Bone Orchard by Sara A. Mueller. For manga I'm reading Jujutsu Kaisen, BNHA, Spy x Family, Black Clover, and Ao no Exorcist.

Current obsession: Twisted Wonderland, My Twisted Wonderland Mafia AU fic, Fire Emblem Heroes finally having an Engage banner, Honkai Star Rail.

I tag: @m34gs, @kamikazequail, @a-little-harmed-shinra, @someobscurereference, @zeldabard, and @shreedle

[mariacallous]

Three days after Kamala Harris was sworn into the Senate in early January 2017, the U.S. intelligence community released a stunning declassified report that concluded that Russian President Vladimir Putin had ordered an influence campaign meant to sway the previous year’s presidential election in favor of Donald Trump and undermine faith in U.S. democracy.

The revelations spurred three high-profile investigations into Russian election interference by lawmakers and special counsel Robert Mueller and would come to dominate headlines for much of the Trump presidency.

As a member of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, which conducted a wide-ranging three-year investigation of Moscow’s interference efforts, Harris had a front-row seat to reams of highly classified material about Russian intelligence operations targeting the United States. The experience left a long-standing impression on the vice president, according to current and former aides who characterize it as a highly formative experience that left her with few illusions about Moscow’s intentions.

“I see those first few weeks as pivotal, because those were both her and Donald Trump’s first few weeks in Washington,” said Halie Soifer, who served as national security advisor to Harris in the Senate.

A Republican source familiar with Harris’s time on the committee said that during the Russia investigation, members were exposed to “borderline raw intelligence” on Moscow’s interference efforts, which they described as an eye-opening experience, even for long-standing members of the committee. “I think it was sobering for everyone,” said the source, who requested anonymity to share their insights.

The Senate’s final report, which spanned over 1,000 pages across five volumes, is generally regarded to be the most detailed look at aggressive Russian intelligence efforts to make inroads with the Trump campaign and to sway the election in favor of the former president.

The report did not reach a conclusion as to whether the Trump team had actively sought to collude with Moscow for its own advantage.

As part of its investigation, the committee reviewed over 1 million pages of documents and interviewed more than 200 witnesses.

While much of the day-to-day work of the probe was carried out by committee staffers, senators from both sides of the aisle have described Harris as a quick study whose advice on questioning witnesses was sought by seasoned committee staff, according to a 2019 BuzzFeed article.

In public hearings on both the Intelligence and Judiciary committees, on which she also sat, Harris developed a reputation for her prosecutorial style as she interrogated senior members of the Trump administration.

“Members get out of it what they put into it, and she put a lot of time and energy and effort into it,” said the Republican source.

Former aides to the vice president have spoken of how her background as a lawyer also informs her view on foreign policy, placing particular emphasis on the importance of international laws and norms. In a 2019 interview with the Council on Foreign Relations, Harris described the U.S. role in building a “community of international institutions, laws, and democratic nations” as America’s biggest foreign-policy achievement since World War II.

While the House Intelligence Committee Russia investigation was beset by political infighting, the Senate investigation remained bipartisan and largely free of public drama—something Harris has spoken fondly of.

“Every week, members of the Senate Intelligence Committee would walk into that wood-paneled room—no cameras, no public, no devices,” said Harris during a memorial service last year for the late California Sen. Dianne Feinstein, who had been a long-standing member of the committee.

“Senators of both parties who would take off their jackets and literally roll up their sleeves, putting aside partisanship to discuss what was in the best interests of our national security,” she said.

Harris served on the Intelligence Committee, which, alongside the House panel, provides oversight of the sprawling U.S. intelligence community, throughout her four years in the Senate.

In 2018, Harris backed an amendment that would compel law enforcement to obtain a warrant before accessing the communications of American citizens inadvertently gathered under a controversial program that enabled intelligence agencies to conduct wide-ranging foreign electronic surveillance.

She also used the perch to stress the need for greater investments in election security in light of Russia’s attempt to sway the vote, co-sponsoring bipartisan legislation on election cybersecurity.

[woundgallery]

Otto Mueller, Standing Lovers, 1919

[dk-thrive]

Something sudden, a windfall, a meteor shower. No – a flowering tree releasing all its blossoms at once, and the one standing beneath it unexpectedly robed in bloom, transformed into a stranger too beautiful to touch.

– Lisel Mueller, “How I Would Paint Happiness,” Alive Together (Louisiana State Univ Pr; First Edition, December 1, 1996) (via The Vale of Soul Making)

[bitter69uk]

“I was always leaving. Every time I left, I had a different hair colour, and I would be standing on the porch saying goodbye to the older couple in the living room. I didn’t have anything in common with them except that we shared a few inherited chromosomes, the identical last night name and the same bathroom … at this point it would dawn on me there was another problem. Not only was I an alien to my parents, but I was an alien to my friends.”

/ From the book Garden of Ashes (1990) /

“Cookie looked like Janis Joplin-meets-Jayne Mansfield, a redneck hippie with a little bit of glamour drag thrown in. She never led a safe life, unsafe was her middle name. She lived on the edge, always.”

/ John Waters on Cookie Mueller /

Died on this day: definitive Baltimore bad girl Cookie Mueller (2 March 1949 – 10 November 1989). The smoky-eyed and vivacious underground actress (most famously in the cinema of John Waters), go-go dancer, advice columnist, art critic, drug dealer, New York scene-maker, eyeliner role model, muse to Nan Goldin and authoress of autobiographical volumes like Walking Through Clear Water in a Pool Painted Black and Garden of Ash died of AIDS-related complications aged just 40.

[ruknowhere]

“Sometimes, When the Light”

“Sometimes, when the light strikes at odd angles

and pulls you back into childhood

and you are passing a crumbling mansion

completely hidden behind old willows

or an empty convent guarded by hemlocks

and giant firs standing hip to hip,

you know again that behind that wall,

under the uncut hair of the willows

something secret is going on,

so marvelous and dangerous

that if you crawled through and saw,

you would die, or be happy forever.”

–Lisel Mueller

[misfitwashere]

June 28, 2024 

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUN 29

There is huge news today: in the case of Loper Bright Enterprises v. Raimondo, the Supreme Court overturned the Chevron defense doctrine that underpins the administrative state. 

I am putting that down as a marker because I’ve had a very busy week of travel and writing (the paperback edition of Democracy Awakening is coming out in October and I am working on a new afterword) and I am just too tired to cover it and its history well tonight. 

Instead, tonight I want to make a note of something that has been nagging at me for weeks now: Trump’s focus on 32-year-old Wall Street Journal reporter Evan Gershkovich, who was arrested by Russian officers in March 2023 and is currently on trial for the trumped-up charge of espionage. The State Department considers him “wrongfully detained,” a rare designation indicating that the person is being held by a hostile government as a bargaining chip. That designation means the U.S. government will do all it can to secure his release. 

At least three times now, Trump has interfered with those negotiations by vowing that Russian president Vladimir Putin will release Gershkovich for him and him alone. He said it in last night’s CNN debacle, where he also made a big deal out of the idea that Putin will do it as a favor, without an exchange of money.  

He said something else last night in his slurry of words that jumped out. Somewhere in his discussion of Putin’s invasion of eastern Ukraine in February 2022, Trump said: “Putin saw that, he said, you know what, I think we’re going to go in and maybe take my—this was his dream. I talked to him about it, his dream.”

Special Counsel Robert Mueller’s 2019 report on Russian interference in the 2016 presidential election explained that Paul Manafort, Trump’s campaign manager and then conduit to Russian operatives, in summer 2016 “discussed a plan to resolve the ongoing political problems in Ukraine by creating an autonomous republic in its more industrialized eastern region of Donbas, and having [Viktor] Yanukovych, the Ukrainian President ousted in 2014, elected to head that republic.” 

Manafort had helped to get the pro-Russian oligarch Yanukovych into office, and when Yanukovych fled to Russia after the Ukrainian people threw him out, Manafort was left unemployed and in debt to other oligarchs. When he went to work for Trump, for free, he promptly wrote to his partner Konstantin Kilimnik, whom the Republican-dominated Senate Intelligence Committee identified in 2020 as a Russian operative, asking how “we” could use the appointment “to get whole,” and made sure that the Russian oligarch to whom he owed the most money knew about his close connection with the Trump campaign (p. 135). 

The Mueller Report continued: “That plan, Manafort later acknowledged, constituted a ‘backdoor’ means for Russia to control eastern Ukraine” (p. 140). The region that Putin wanted was the country’s industrial heartland. He was offering a “peace” plan that carved off much of Ukraine and made it subservient to him. This was the dead opposite of U.S. policy for a free and united Ukraine, and there was no chance that former secretary of state Hillary Clinton, who was running for the presidency against Trump, would stand for it. But if only Trump were elected….

And, in November 2016, he was.

According to the Republican-dominated Senate Intelligence Committee, Manafort’s partner and Russian operative Kilimnick wrote that "[a]ll that is required to start the process is a very minor 'wink' (or slight push) from D[onald] T[rump] saying 'he wants peace in Ukraine and Donbass back in Ukraine' and a decision to be a 'special representative' and manage this process." Following that, Kilimnik suggested that Manafort ‘could start the process and within 10 days visit Russia ([Yanukovych] guarantees your reception at the very top level, cutting through all the bullsh*t and getting down to business), Ukraine, and key EU capitals.’ The email also suggested that once then–Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko understood this ‘message’ from the United States, the process ‘will go very fast and DT could have peace in Ukraine basically within a few months after inauguration’” (p. 99).

According to the Senate Intelligence Committee, the men continued to work on what they called the “Mariupol Plan” at least until 2018.

In last night’s debate, Trump insisted that Putin never would have invaded Ukraine on his watch (although Putin in fact continued his 2014 assault during Trump’s term, and Trump tried to withhold support for Ukraine). 

After Russia invaded Ukraine again in 2022, Jim Rutenberg published a terrific and thorough review of this history in the New York Times Magazine, pointing out that Putin’s attack on Ukraine looked different with this history behind it. Once Biden took office in 2021, the many efforts of the people around Trump, including most obviously Rudy Giuliani, to influence Ukrainian politics through their ties to the White House were over. 

“Thirteen months later,” Rutenberg wrote, “Russian tanks crossed the Ukrainian frontier.” Once his troops were there, Putin claimed he had annexed Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson, two of which were specifically named in the Mariupol Plan, and instituted martial law in them, claiming that the people there had voted to join Russia.   

Last night, Trump claimed that the Ukrainians are losing the war and described how sad it was that their country is being destroyed (without mentioning that it is Putin’s unprovoked war that is doing that damage). He also significantly exaggerated how much money the U.S. has contributed to Ukraine’s defense. 

That misrepresentation lines up with Putin’s offer of Friday, June 14, 2024, in a “peace proposal” to Ukraine: Ukraine would give up Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson, including far more territory than Putin’s troops occupy, in exchange for a ceasefire. Putin said, “If Kyiv and the Western capitals refuse it, as before, then in the end, that’s their…political and moral responsibility for the continuation of bloodshed.” He also demanded an end to all sanctions and that Ukraine abandon its plan to join the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). (Ukraine president Volodymyr Zelensky rejected the plan and noted that there is no reason to think Putin will stop his land grab once his forces regroup.) 

So when Trump last night said about the 2022 invasion, “Putin saw that, he said, you know what, I think we’re going to go in and maybe take my—this was his dream. I talked to him about it, his dream,” it sounded as if he had been in on the Mariupol Plan. And when he talked about how the war needed to end, especially in light of Putin’s recent “peace” plan, it sounded as if perhaps he still is. 

And he promised, yet again, that he and he alone could get Gershkovich released.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Our former President and the presumptuous GOP candidate is a Russian agent. An agent of our enemy. Isn't that the definition of treason?

[callernumberthree]

I should get a cane. I can’t believe I haven’t thought of this before my joints are literally the hellchild of sandpaper and mueller Hinton agar. Walking requires me to be distracted and standing is barely tolerable. Why haven’t I done this before omg 💀 I genuinely felt like it wasn’t for me but BITCH youre SUPPOSED to use a CANE when WALKING EXHAUSTS YOU that’s the POINT. Ughh

[ambrossart]

That was so cool ! I love skelly. Can we get some fun facts about Christie Gibson or Jake Newham? I think we don't much about him . Thank you 🩶

Since somebody else requested Christie as well, we’ll just focus on Jake for this one.

— Jake Newham, the Senior Class President

Jake Newham comes from a very ambitious and academically focused family. His parents, who divorced when he was nine, are both Harvard grads who now work in politics. Jake’s father is a highly sought-after political consultant, and his mother is the Director of Communications for Senator Ryan Bradley (D-ME) as well as a published author. Due to his parents’ demanding careers, Jake currently lives with his grandparents in their West Broadway Victorian home. He also has an older sister, Amy, who recently obtained her master’s degree in international relations.

Although his parents have tried their hardest to avoid this, Jake does put a lot of pressure on himself to not only succeed, but to excel in everything he does. He worries that all of his accomplishments will ultimately amount to nothing and he won’t ever reach the same amount of success as the rest of his family. Due to this, Jake really struggles with self-confidence, and he often gets steamrolled by stronger personalties like his vice president, Jackie O’Connell. When Jake won the student council vote, Jackie told him that he only won because he’s a man. Deep down, Jake wonders if that’s true.

While the greater student body considers Jake a major dork, he’s actually fairly well-liked among the seniors. Unfortunately, Jake is so focused on his future that he seldom makes time for friends. As soon as he entered high school, Jake started preparing for college. He joined clubs that he knew would look good on an application. He took the most difficult classes he could in order to get an edge over the other applicants. Now that Jake’s about to graduate, he feels a little regretful over some of those decisions, but he stands by them nevertheless.

— Fun Facts

Jake lives on the same block as Liz Mueller. The two of them were very close growing up and could even be considered childhood sweethearts. They went their separate ways in high school: Liz became popular and Jake turned his focus to school. They’re still friends, but they don’t hang out much anymore.

He started taking trumpet lessons when he was ten. He also plays the piano.

He’s captain of the varsity soccer team. He’s a center-midfielder.

He has terrible eyesight and wears contacts even though he hates the way they feel against his eyes. He always keeps a pair of glasses in his backpack just in case.

Yes, he does wear a retainer at night.

And yes, he does often approach Richie at school to ask about his sister. Richie used to find this really annoying, but now he thinks it’s funny as hell and loves messing with him.

He first met Evelyn at the school’s annual student council retreat, a three-day camping trip where newly elected members do team-building exercises and develop their leadership skills. Evelyn stood out because she was so outspoken and enthusiastic.

Similar to how Paul and Lenny tease Evelyn about Jake, Jake’s friends and teammates frequently tease him about Evelyn.

Despite his instant attraction to her, Jake has always been hesitant to pursue a romantic relationship with Evelyn. This is partly due to Jake’s academic ambitions but also due to Evelyn’s ambivalence toward him. He could never quite tell if she liked him or not.

Eventually, Jake began to suspect that she may like someone else, but Henry Bowers was the very last person on his list. Yeah, that was a major shocker.

Honestly, Jake’s not too upset over Evelyn’s rejection. He’s a little wounded, of course, but ultimately he thinks it’s for the best. He’s gonna be graduating soon anyway.

[robinfrinjs]

Both Envision drivers - Sebastien Buemi and team returnee Robin Frijns - will be required to race at the WEC event for Toyota and BMW respectively, meaning that as it stands they will be out of the first Berlin FE race, on the Saturday

Formula E is likely to issue a further iteration of its calendar to confirm the venue for the only current to-be-decided race on the schedule in Italy over the weekend of April 13/14. This is expected to be either Misano or Imola, although a recent simulation study of the Vallelunga circuit near Rome was also carried out.

Additionally, Jakarta being added as a season finale in August is believed to be still possible, meaning that a 17-race billing might be achievable.

But Buemi told The Race that he “still has not lost hope [the WEC clash will disappear] because I know things will change again when they publish [a calendar update] in November".

“I was quite happy to see that we don’t have the clash with the prologue [WEC test in Qatar, which was initially set to be on the same weekend as an end-of-February FE date] and Le Mans tests [now free of the scratched Jakarta race]."

Buemi suggested reducing Berlin to a single race and making Portland a double-header would be a logical change to ensure no direct clash between Berlin and the WEC's Spa race.

-

Another driver who is likely to be in the frame for a drive at Envision is Tom Dillmann, simulator driver for its powertrain supplier Jaguar.

Ex-Dragon-Penske driver Joel Eriksson has also served as a test and reserve driver for Jaguar. The firm is expected to announce its full wider 2024 FE driver line-up before the end of this year, which will make Envision's potential fallback plans clearer.

Other drivers that could be affected may include Abt Cupra’s Nico Mueller, who may be held to racing for the Peugeot WEC team at Spa.

Abt is expected to call upon the services of Kelvin van der Linde, who subbed for an injured Robin Frijns in three events last season, to deputise.

FE is expected to take precedence for Norman Nato, Jean-Eric Vergne and Stoffel Vandoorne, while the situation regarding Mahindra's FE returnee Nyck de Vries remains unclear as he is expected to also be racing for the Toyota WEC team in 2024 but has yet to be officially announced.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Mike Luckovich ::

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

February 10, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

FEB 11, 2024

A key story that got missed yesterday was that the Senate voted 64–19 to allow a bill that includes $95.34 billion in aid for Ukraine, Israel, and Taiwan to advance a step forward. In terms of domestic politics, this appears to be an attempt by those who controlled the Republican Party before Trump to push back against Trump and the MAGA Republicans. 

MAGA lawmakers had demanded border security measures be added to a national security supplemental bill that provided this international aid, as well as humanitarian aid to Gaza, but to their apparent surprise, a bipartisan group of lawmakers actually hammered out that border piece. Trump immediately demanded an end to the bill and MAGA obliged on Wednesday, forcing the rest of the party to join them in killing the national security supplemental bill. House Republicans then promptly tried to pass a measure that provided funding for Israel alone.

At stake behind this fight is not only control of the Republican Party, but also the role of the U.S. in the world—and, for that matter, its standing. And much of that fight comes down to Ukraine’s attempt to resist Russia’s invasions of 2014 and 2022. 

Russian president Vladimir Putin is intent on dismantling the rules-based international order of norms and values developed after World War II. Under this system, international organizations such as the United Nations provide places to resolve international disputes, prevent territorial wars, and end no-holds-barred slaughter through a series of agreements, including the United Nations Charter, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the U.N. Genocide Convention, and the Geneva Conventions on the laws of war. 

Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, deliberate targeting of civilian populations, and war crimes are his way of thumbing his nose at the established order and demanding a different one, in which men like him dominate the globe. 

Trump’s ties to Russia are deep and well documented, including by the Senate Intelligence Committee, which was dominated by Republicans when it concluded that Trump’s 2016 campaign team had worked with Russian operatives. In November 2022, in the New York Times Magazine, Jim Rutenberg pulled together testimony given both to Special Counsel Robert Mueller’s investigation and the Senate Intelligence Committee, transcripts from the impeachment hearings, and recent memoirs. 

Rutenberg showed that in 2016, Russian operatives had presented to Trump advisor and later campaign manager Paul Manafort a plan “for the creation of an autonomous republic in Ukraine’s east, giving Putin effective control of the country’s industrial heartland, where Kremlin-armed, -funded, and -directed ‘separatists’ were waging a two-year-old shadow war that had left nearly 10,000 dead.” 

But they were concerned that the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) might stand in their way. Formed in 1947 to stand against Soviet expansion and now standing against Russian aggression, NATO is a collective security alliance of 31 states that have agreed to consider an attack on any member to be an attack on all.

In exchange for weakening NATO, undermining the U.S. stance in favor of Ukraine in its attempt to throw off the Russians who had invaded in 2014, and removing U.S. sanctions from Russian entities, Russian operatives were willing to put their finger on the scales to help Trump win the White House. 

When he was in office, Trump did, in fact, try to weaken NATO—as well as other international organizations like the World Health Organization—and promised he would pull the U.S. out of NATO in a second term, effectively killing it. Rutenberg noted that Russia’s February 2022 invasion of Ukraine looks a lot like an attempt to achieve the plan it suggested in 2016. But because there was a different president in the U.S., that invasion did not yield the results Putin expected. 

President Joe Biden stepped into office more knowledgeable on foreign affairs than any president since Dwight Eisenhower, who took office in 1953. Biden recognized that democracy was on the ropes around the globe as authoritarian leaders set out to dismantle the rules-based international order. He also knew that the greatest strength of the U.S. is its alliances. In the months after he took office, Biden focused on shoring up NATO, with the result that when Russia invaded Ukraine again in February 2022, a NATO coalition held together to support Ukraine.

By 2024, far from falling apart, NATO was stronger than ever with the addition of Finland. Sweden, too, is expected to join shortly. 

But far more than simply shore up the old system, the Biden administration has built on the stability of the rules-based order to make it more democratic, encouraging more peoples, nations, and groups to participate more fully in it. In September 2023, Secretary of State Antony Blinken explained to an audience at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies that the end of the Cold War made people think that the world would inevitably become more peaceful and stable as countries cooperated and emphasized democracy and human rights. 

But now, Blinken said, that era is over. After decades of relative stability, authoritarian powers have risen to challenge the rules-based international order, throwing away the ideas of national sovereignty and human rights. As wealth becomes more and more concentrated, people are losing faith in that international order as well as in democracy itself. In a world increasingly under pressure from authoritarians who are trying to enrich themselves and stay in power, he said, the administration is trying to defend fair competition, international law, and human rights. 

Historically, though, the U.S. drive to spread democracy has often failed to rise above the old system of colonialism, with the U.S. and other western countries dictating to less prosperous countries. The administration has tried to avoid this trap by advancing a new form of international cooperation that creates partnerships and alignments of interested countries to solve discrete issues. These interest-based alignments, which administration officials refer to as “diplomatic variable geometry,” promise to preserve U.S. global influence and perhaps an international rules-based order but will also mean alliances with nations whose own interests align with those of the U.S. only on certain issues.  

In the past three years, the U.S. has created a new security partnership with Australia and the United Kingdom, known as AUKUS, and held a historic, first-ever trilateral leaders’ summit at Camp David with Japan and the Republic of Korea. It has built new partnerships with nations in the Indo-Pacific region, as well as with Latin American and Caribbean countries, to address issues of immigration; two days ago the Trilateral Fentanyl Committee met for the fourth time in Mexico. This new system includes a wider range of voices at the table—backing the membership of the African Union in the Group of 20 (G20) economic forum, for example—advancing a form of cooperation in which every international problem is addressed by a group of partner nations that have a stake in the outcome. 

At the same time, the U.S. recognizes that wealthier countries need to step up to help poorer countries develop their own economies rather than mine them for resources. Together with G7 partners, the U.S. has committed to deliver $600 billion in new investments to develop infrastructure across the globe—for example, creating a band of development across Africa.

Biden’s is a bold new approach to global affairs, based on national rights to self-determination and working finally to bring an end to colonialism. 

The fight over U.S. aid to Ukraine, Israel, Taiwan, and the other countries with which we have made partnerships is not about saving money—most of the funds for Ukraine are actually spent in the U.S.—or about protecting the U.S. border, as MAGA Republicans demonstrated when they killed the border security bill. It is about whether the globe will move into the 21st century, with all its threats of climate change, disease, and migration, with ways for nations to cooperate, or whether we will be at the mercy of global authoritarians. 

Trump’s 2024 campaign website calls for “fundamentally reevaluating NATO’s purpose and NATO’s mission,” and in a campaign speech in South Carolina today, he made it clear what that means. Trump has long misrepresented the financial obligations of NATO countries, and today he suggested that the U.S. would not protect other NATO countries that were “delinquent” if they were attacked by Russia. “In fact,” he said, “I would encourage [Russia] to do whatever the hell they want.”

—

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[omg-lucio]

Polish poets, members of "Płanetnicy" literary group from Lwów (now in Ukraine) standing from the right: Józefa Albinowska, ?, Józef Ruffer, Antoni Stanisław Mueller, Maryla Wolska, sitting: Ostap Ortwin, Leopold Staff (in a cape) and Maryla Wolska's children. Author unknown, c. 1900.