#D.C. Circuit

[empiricalscotus]

The Final Five? Trump’s Next Potential Nominees to the Supreme Court

Former President and current President Elect Donald Trump appointed 234 judges during his first term. Three of these were to the United States Supreme Court.  This is quite unique on several levels. Only two presidents, Ronald Reagan and Richard Nixon, had three or more confirmed nominees since 1950 (Reagan had four in two terms, Nixon had four in one). Trump has the ability to reach and surpass…

[nationallawreview]

Dependent Work Permits – Is the U.S. Catching Up with Other Immigration Destinations?

There are many ways in which the U.S. immigration system is lagging behind those of other countries. We still put physical visas in passports – something Australia stopped doing nearly 10 years ago when they converted to a purely electronic visa system. Our immigration system is predominantly paper-based, with limited options for electronic filings, an area where other countries have fully…

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Mike Luckovich

* * * *

Jack Smith calls the question.

December 12, 2023

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

          Monday brought multiple positive developments for those who yearn for the courts to serve as a bulwark against Trump's effort to assume dictatorial powers. Let’s review the threads of hope that run through the judicial developments on Monday relating to Trump.

Jack Smith goes directly to the Supreme Court on the question of Trump's presidential immunity defense in the D.C. election interference case.

          Trump's primary defense against the 91 federal indictments secured by Jack Smith is delay. His claim of presidential immunity for all acts undertaken as president is not a serious defense but is structured to create delay. It is one of the few defenses that can lead to a pre-trial appeal—and lengthy delay of trial.

          Judge Chutkan denied Trump's motion to dismiss the D.C. election interference case, and Trump appealed to the D.C. Circuit. After the D.C. Circuit rules, the matter can go to the Supreme Court. Even with expedited briefing in both the D.C. Court of Appeals and the Supreme Court, that process might delay Trump's criminal trial until after the 2024 election.

          Everyone knows that Trump's claim of presidential immunity will eventually end up in the US Supreme Court, so Jack Smith called the question on Monday by asking the Supreme Court to take the case without an intervening stop in the D.C. Circuit. The procedure invoked by Smith has been used in extraordinary cases—including US v. Nixon.

          The historical background is discussed by Lucian K. Truscott IV in his excellent Substack newsletter. See Lucian K. Truscott IV, It's called the Nixon rule, and the Supreme Court should uphold it without delay (substack.com). I highly recommend Truscott’s analysis—so much so that I will assume you have (or will) read it so that I can skip some of the details he ably covers.

          Jack Smith’s petition is here: U.S. v. Donald J. Trump | Petition for Writ of Certiorari Before Judgment.

          Before addressing Smith’s petition, let’s skip to the end: Smith has undertaken a bold, brilliant, gutsy move that prioritizes the interest of the American people in knowing whether the leading GOP presidential candidate is a criminal before they are asked to vote for (or against) him in November 2024.

          Smith is, of course, taking a gamble by front-loading the ‘overwhelming question’ that will determine whether Trump is above the law. Framed as a two-part question by Jack Smith in his petition, he asks the Supreme Court to decide the following:

Whether a former president is absolutely immune from federal prosecution for crimes committed while in office, or

Is constitutionally protected from federal prosecution when he has been impeached but not convicted [in the Senate] before the criminal proceeding begins.

          The answer to those questions is plainly “No.” The questions posed by Smith can be reframed as, “In America, is any person above the law?” Again, the answer is plainly “No.”

          Given that Trump's defense is meritless and should be summarily rejected, Jack Smith’s petition poses the following question to the Supreme Court:

          Will the US Supreme Court aid and abet Trump's effort to overturn the 2020 election by delaying his trial until after the 2024 election—preserving the possibility that Trump will dismiss the prosecutions against himself if he is elected?

          Stripped to its essence, Jack Smith is challenging the Supreme Court to put its legitimacy and legacy on the line. Indeed, he is offering the Court the opportunity for partial rehabilitation. If they decline that opportunity, the justices will deserve the judgment of history that would follow a refusal to consider the matter on an expedited basis and rule that “No person is above the law.”

          Let’s now look at the procedural posture of the petition. Jack Smith is asking for two forms of relief: (a) to skip over the D.C. Court of Appeals by granting a “writ of certiorari” (a fancy word for appellate review), and (b) that the Supreme Court grant review on an expedited basis.

          In a positive sign, the Supreme Court ordered Trump to respond to Smith’s request for expedited review on Wednesday, December 20, 2023. As explained by Professor Tribe on Lawrence O’Donnell’s “The Last Word,” the fact that the Supreme Court ordered Trump to file on an opposition on an expedited basis suggests that there are five votes on the Supreme Court to grant Jack Smith’s request for expedited review.

          If the Supreme Court is inclined to grant expedited review, that is a very good sign. It suggests that Trump will be tried for election interference before the November 2024 election. Although a conviction is not guaranteed, Jack Smith will present evidence of Trump's guilt on the eve of the 2024 election. That is all we can ask for.

          But there is more good news. As Jack Smith was filing his petition with the Supreme Court, the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals also indicated that it would move expeditiously by granting Smith’s separate motion for an expedited hearing before the D.C. Circuit. On Monday, the D.C. Circuit ordered Trump to file a response by Wednesday, December 13, in opposition to Smith’s request for an expedited hearing in the D.C. Circuit.  

          Here is the way to think about the dual proceedings in the D.C. Circuit and the Supreme Court. Unless and until the Supreme Court grants Jack Smith’s petition for a writ of certiorari, the D.C. Circuit retains jurisdiction over the case. If the Supreme Court grants Smith’s petition, the D.C. Circuit loses jurisdiction; if it denies Smith’s petition, the D.C. Circuit retains jurisdiction.

          In effect, Smith is on “two fast tracks” to review Trump's defense of presidential immunity. He has hedged his bets and called the question. Good!

[wilwheaton]

The Supreme Court has never definitively ruled on whether a president or former president can be criminally prosecuted for acts undertaken while president. That is because we have never had a president engage in the type of behavior Trump engaged in when he fruitlessly attempted to hang on to the presidency after he lost the election.

Trump's presidential immunity claim tests the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals

Every single time we hear “this is unprecedented!” as if Shitler is some kind of victim who had nothing to do with any of this, I want to scream.

This is all unprecedented because we have never had a criminal like Trump attempt a coup to hold on to power, enjoy almost unwavering support and protection from his party, and then run again while he is facing NINETY-ONE different felony charges.

This is all unprecedented because there has never been an aspiring dictator like Trump in American political history, not even Nixon.

[saywhat-politics]

Milwaukee County Circuit Judge Hannah C. Dugan was arrested by federal authorities April 25 and charged with two felonies amid an investigation into whether she tried to help an undocumented immigrant avoid arrest after he appeared in her courtroom April 18.

The Milwaukee native has been a part of Wisconsin's legal landscape for nearly three decades, and molded a career that has focused mainly in civil law and civic leadership. Dugan is now in her ninth year as a Milwaukee County Circuit Court judge.

Here's what to know about Dugan and her arrest:

Where was Dugan arrested?

Brady McCarron, U.S. Marshals Service spokesman in Washington, D.C., confirmed Dugan was arrested at about 8 a.m. April 24 at the Milwaukee County Courthouse and is in federal custody. 

What was Dugan charged with?

Dugan was charged with two felony counts: obstruction and concealing an individual, McCarron confirmed to the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

She appeared before U.S. Magistrate Judge Stephen Dries at 10:30 a.m. on April 25 at the Federal Courthouse in downtown Milwaukee.

Dugan made no public comments during the brief hearing. As it ended, her attorney told the court she “wholeheartedly regrets and protests” her arrest, adding it was “not in the interest of public safety.”

What is Dugan's legal experience?

Dugan has spent a large swath of her career working for the poor and vulnerable, first with legal aid organizations and then as executive director of Catholic Charities.

Dugan also has been active in various professional organizations, and referees attorney discipline cases brought by the Office of Lawyer Regulation.

[the-slow]

WOE, TERROR PLAYLISTS BE UPON YE

9 playlists, (Tozer, Hickey, Little, Jopson, Irving, Hartnell, Blanky, Bridgens/Peglar, Crozier) 8 songs each. Made in both a davechella "this is what I think they would listen to in the modern day" sort of way, as well as a "the songs are about the character" way. Playlists under the cut. Enjoy!

🦞 Best Shot Here | Tozer* Something To That Tune, Queer Melody For A Marine, etc

Built By Nations - Greta Van Fleet

Houses Of The Holy - Led Zeppelin

From The Ritz To The Rubble - Arctic Monkeys

Iron - Woodkid

Heartbroken, in Disrepair - Dan Auerbach

I Promise - Radiohead

The Curse of the Blackened Eye - Orville Peck

Rounder - Watchhouse

Removed: The Switch and the Spur - The Raconteurs

🔪 Morals/Practicals | Hickey Everyone get unemployed. I will provide for us.

Shove It (feat. Spank Rock) - Santigold

Sinister Kid - The Black Keys

Easy Way Out - Gotye

Judas - Cage The Elephant

Circuit Breaker - Röyksopp

The Future - Mystery Skulls

Big City Life - Kidkanevil

Krazy World - King Geedorah

🥇 Every Gold Thing | Little What if your unread emails turned into a spirit bear and the bear gave you blue balls

Human Sadness - The Voidz

At The Door - The Strokes

You Can Let Go - Half Moon Run

There, There - Radiohead

Cowgirl - Ora Cogan

I Am The Dog - Sir Chloe

Don't Run Into The Dark So Quick - Jon Bap

The Place Where He Inserted The Blade - Black Country

Removed: Romance - Fontaines D.C.

🦅 Smaller Hawks | Jopson Miss Battle Butler Takes Care of Business!!!!!!

Don't Call It Love - Zero 7

Tiny Garden - Jamila woods

Private Road - Bent

You Have My Heart - Ursina

If You Let Me - Alina Baraz

Compromised - Tim Atlas

The King - Sarah Kinsley

Leash - Sir Chloe

✝️ Reborn Clean | Irving John Irving's giant shame playlist

Punish - Ethel Cain

De Selby (Part 1) - Hozier

The Lament of Eustace Scrubb - The Oh Hellos

All the Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands - Sufjan Stevens

St Jude - Florence + The Machine

Picture You - Chappell Roan

Roses Are Falling - Orville Peck

Cigarettes And Chocolate Milk - Rufus Wainwright

🧊 Spared To Meet | Hartnell The Cunty Stander Strikes Again

When You Were Young - The Killers

Yellow - Coldplay

Float On - Modest Mouse

Island In The Sun - Weezer

Lavender - Ray LaMontagne

Plum - Widowspeak

Satellite - Guster

Ends of the Earth - Lord Huron

🐻‍❄️ Unnatural With Thoughts | Blanky The undisputed champion of Rock In Bucket ten years running

Sacred Love - Sting

Life In The Fast Lane - Eagles

Love Me Two Times - The Doors

Theresa Maria - Fine Crowd

Moondance - Van Morrison

Deacon Blues - Steely Dan

Free - Seal

Strangers In The Night - Frank Sinatra

Removed: Reelin' In The Years - Steely Dan

📚 No More Herodotus | Bridgens/Peglar Relapsed. Relapsed. Relapsed. Relapsed.

I Melt with You - Modern English

Holland, 1945 - Neutral Milk Hotel

Love My Way - The Psychedelic Furs

I Will Follow You into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

Dreams - The Cranberries

My Love Mine all Mine - Mitski

Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) - Kate Bush

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields

⚓Travel Well | Crozier

Untitled 2 - The Green Kingdom ⚓

Fortress Around Your Heart - Sting 🐻‍❄️

You Can Bring Me Flowers - Ray LaMontagne 🧊

Would That I - Hozier ✝️

Sunday - The Cranberries 📚

Spinning - Zero 7 🦅

End of Nowhere - Ora Cogan 🥇

Goin' Home - Dan Auerbach 🦞

Removed: There, There - Radiohead

*PLUS - 8 songs was simply not enough for Solomon "my beautiful husband" Tozer, so here's an extended playlist:

[gardens-light]

Hi! I would like to ask for a Ironhide BAYVERSE x Pigtailed! human with a cybertronian Heart! And if u think you want A ratchet one to you can do a Ratchet BAYVERSE X Human with a spark <3 (this is just for one of my AU’s and u Writing it would make my day)

Although Ratchet (mainly TFP) is my fave bot, I couldn't pass up our weapons boy. Bayverse Ironhide is such an underrated character, there seriously needs to be more fanfics of him!

I've never been good at AU's, but really love your idea and I hope I did it justice. Apologies for keeping you waiting :)

A Spark in Disguise

Content: Bayverse Ironhide x F/Human reader. Comfort Fluff.

Word Count: 2K

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the N.E.S.T base, sunrays glinting off Ironhide's gun-metal coloured plating as he watched his allies scurry around him. Performing drills, maintaining their equipment, discussing newly found Cybertronian tech with Optimus and Ratchet- the usual daily grind.

Despite working with his new found allies for over two years, and respected their determination, the weapons specialist tend to not allow himself to get too attached to the humans. For seeing the yearning of Bumblebee's spark felt, when it was time to say 'goodbye' to his human friends, let alone the pain that would dull the yellow scout's circuits whenever they got hurt.

Yet no matter how hard he tried to maintain that distance, there was always one human in particular that never failed to catch his attention.

You. Lieutenant Y/N. AKA: Rogue.

With sharpshooting skills that no other could match, fearless instincts that saved more lives than he could count, along with a knack for understanding Cybertronian tech that most of your comrades struggled with. With your steady resolve, stunning braided pigtails, and biting wit that even he found amusing sometimes, it's no wonder that you somehow wiggled your way into the soft spot of his spark. Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, for... you were just another human, after all- or... so he thought.

Till one fateful mission changed everything.

Washington D.C- 10:30pm

"All right, listen up. The cover story on this one is a 'toxic spill.'" Your commanding officer's voice crackled over your radio. "They had to EVAC the area for search and rescue. This makes six enemy contacts in eight months, we gotta make sure this one doesn't get out into the public eye, so keep it tight."

Military Hummers and helicopters surrounded the power plant, as your N.E.S.T comrades got into position. Your commander and his team already scouting the area, their radidar sending off strong signals nearby.

"All right, Ironhide." You lightly tapped the Autobot's hood, "we got echoes. They're close. Steel stacks at 2 o'clock."

Metallic grinding and the sound of churning gears filled the air, his pistons whirled and locked into position, as Ironhide rolled out of his altmode.

"He's here. I smell him." Ironhide's optics scanned the empty buildings, giving each piece of machinery a suspicious stare. "Tread carefully, Rouge-"

"You too, Big Boy." Your small fist lightly bumped his enclosed servo, "I'll watch you from above."

A low purr rumbled deep within his chest, the corner of his mouth twitching into a subtle smile. That's my girl...

While taking your position above, Ironhide and N.E.S.T slowly closed in upon their target. The Autobot's radar picking up more of a Cybertronian energy signature with each careful step, itching closer towards the circular steel stacks.

"Thermal ripple, sir." The commander peered over his comrades shoulder, as they showed him the screen of their scanner. "A big one..."

A strong electronic pulse flowed through your veins, causing a shaky breath to escape your slightly parted lips. Eyes narrowing through your sniper scope, "Commander, wait. Be steady. You're... right on top of it-"

But the sound of shifting gears and whirling pistons suddenly filled the air, revealing a large Decepticon destroyer. A low, animalistic growl with an metallic edge rumbled deep from within it's engine, slamming down it's large servos onto the ground. Kicking up the industrial equipment, and sending the circular steel stacks flying towards the human soldiers.

"Hold your positions!" your commanding officer barked, raising his rifle. "Target its joints! We need to slow it down!"

The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning fuel and scorched earth. The ground trembled beneath your comrades as they scrambled for cover, their shouts barely audible over the deafening roar of gunfire and the shrieking hum of Ironhide's energon-powered cannon.

Reloading your weapon with swift movement, after each round of cover fire. The electric pulse within your veins quickened, sending small volts of dispersing sparks crackling throughout your body. Your comrades fired bursts of armor-piercing rounds, and grenades that barely left a dent in the Decepticon's armour.

With a swing of its massive arm, Ironhide's optics widened as he witnessed the building crumble beneath you. His spark twisting painfully within its chamber, as your screams bellowed through the chaos, as you and the building came crashing down.

"Rogue!-"

"Ironhide! Wait!" one of soldiers jumped out of the Autobot's way, avoiding to be trapped under his peds. "Even if she did survive that. It be impossible to find her beneath all the rubble!-"

"I need units to track down and pursue that Decepticon!" your commander barked into his radio, witnessing his mechanical foe go into retreat. "And I need EVAC, ASAP! Multiple casualties and... one soldier... possibly down."

No! No! No! Ironhide charged into the debris, kneeling against the crumbled mess, his cannons retracting back into his forearms. As his massive servos tore through the rubble. Not her! Anyone but her! Primus... Please-

The desperate pulse of his spark slowed to a more calming rhythm. Confusion flickering within his optics, as a faint blue glow peered through the cracks of shattered concrete and twisted metal. Moving the slab of concrete aside, shock and surprise shot throughout Ironhide's inner circuits.

Buried beneath the rubble there you laid- unconscious but... miraculously alive, the air around you was filled with electric and static hum. The blue glow which surrounded you like a shield, confused Ironhide's scanners as he assessed your injuries.

H-Her vitals. They... don't match any human standards. His optics widened, realization making his spark sputter as his gaze trailed to the centre of your chest. Blue veins marked your skin, raiding a faint but unmistakable signature. A... Cybertronian spark?! Th-That's... not possible...

Almost as if the force field surrounding you recognized Ironhide's Cybertronian signature. The blue glow dulled into nothingness, allowing his servo to effortlessly phase through, carefully scooping you into his palm, allowing your braided pigtails to fall away from your face. Relief zapped throughout his wires like small volts of electricity, as you slightly stirred.

"Ironhide-"

"Fine." The Autobot curtly replied to your commander. A mixture of confusion and concern hiding within this words, "Rogue's fine... I'll... take her back to base myself..."

---

A soft groan escaped your slightly parted lips, as you regained consciousness. Instinctively placing a hand over your chest, as if to protect something. Eyes fluttering open, gazing around your surroundings, feeling the soft grass beneath you. The cool night air filling your lungs with the familiar scent of L.A in the distance.

"Rogue...?"

Looking up, your eyes met Ironhide's optics. Concern and confusion still flickering within his gaze, your features softening slightly as a small frown came to your lips. Sensing a silent question that was written all over his faceplate.

"What?" Your words held a tinge of weariness. Your heart picked up the slow pulse of his spark, which sent out occasional bursts of volts as you sat up. "Something wrong, 'Hide?"

A heavy breath left him, hesitation momentarily stealing his words as Ironhide crouched down, his massive frame lowering to your level. "Y-You're... not entirely human... are you?"

You blinked multiple times in confusion, eyes widening slightly. Attempting to pull a coy smile, "w-what are you-"

"I sensed it, Rogue." His tone was a mixture of suspicion and concern, "When the building collapsed... I sensed and saw... the fragments of a Cybertronian spark radiating from you. So please... don't try and be coy with me."

Your features slowly went pale, as you avoided his gaze. Jaw tightening, "I-It's... complicated-"

"Complicated?" the Autobot scoffed, his tone filled with disbelief and frustration. "That's an understatement, Rogue. You're walking around with a piece of Cybertronian tech shoved inside your fleshy body. That's not something you just gloss over!-"

"I didn't exactly sign up for this, 'Hide!" You snapped, gesturing towards your chest. "It wasn't my choice!"

Ironhide's expression softened, his spark aching slightly as a hint of resentment etched into your features. Y-You... had no choice...?

A heavy sigh escaped you, running a hand through your disheveled hair. Your pained gaze meeting his concerned optics. "A while back, a Decepticon... attacked my hometown. But during the evacuation, I was caught in the crossfire... my body was thrown over five meters up the road. Breaking my bones, bruising my organs but... my chest took most of the hit, causing my heart to take most of the damage."

Hands fiddling with the fabric of your cargo trousers, as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. "I... needed a life saving operation, but... doctors said I didn't time to wait for a heart transplant. So... in desperation, my father practically begged his comrades at N.E.S.T to help and they did. Using a fragment of a Cybertronian spark they had on hand to save me."

Ironhide couldn't help but simply stare at you with a wide eyed gaze. The weight of your words settling over him like a crushing wave, as his processor attempted to understand the idea.

"Nobody really... explained to me, how it works- I was just a child at the time. All I was told was that it would keep me alive. And it did. But... it also changed me."

"Changed you how?"

You hesitated, dropping your voice to a near whisper. "I... can feel things- machines, electric like pulses or... energy, Cybertronian teach. Sometimes I hear things, like whispers, when I'm near Cybertronians- regardless if they're Autobot or Decepticon. It's like... a part of me is connected to Cybertron itself."

Th-That... explains so much. Ironhide couldn't help with the dumbfounded expression upon his faceplate, a mixture of realization and shock hitting his inner circuits hard. Causing him to fully kneel against the ground, the way she has this... uncanny ability to handle- yet understand Cybertronian equipment. Her knack for battle strategies- even the way she seems to understand me and the others on a level that goes beyond words.

"You're part Cybertronian." He muttered under his breath.

"I'm still me, 'Hide." Your voice returned to it's soft, usual tone. Placing a hand over his digits, "I'm still human. This doesn't change that."

After a long moment of pause, his processor finally comprehending everything you've said. A sigh, finally left Ironhide, "why... didn't you tell me? I-I..." Ironhide leaned closer towards you, lowering his helm a little more and bringing your hand closer to his cheek. "I... thought I lost you."

A small smirk faintly, tugged your lips. "Yeah, because Optimus and Ratchet would have been just as understanding as you. As it is, almost none of my human comrades knows about my... 'condiction.'"

"Fair point."

Your thumb gently brushed against his cheek, "so... what now? Am I... some kind of security risk to you and the Autobot's now?"

"Of course not, Rogue." Ironhide brushed a knuckle of his digit softly across your cheek. Tucking one of your twin braids behind your shoulder, "how could you ever assume that? You've been fighting beside me for years, risking your life like the rest of us. That... spark within your chest doesn't- and will never change that. If anything... it makes you tougher than most humans I've met."

Your smirk widened into a genuine smile. "Thanks, 'Hide."

A small grunt escaped the Autobot, feeling the subtle heat raise beneath his faceplates. Your smile causing his spark to skip a beat, as he turned away, "d-don't get all sentimental on me, Rogue. I gotta get you back to base, before people start asking questions."

Crouching down and shifting into his altmode, Ironhide couldn't shake the feeling of awe- and a strange sense of pride pulse through his inner circuits, as you climbed into the front passenger seat.

In a way, she's... a living testament to the strength us, Autobot's share with these humans. A low purr rumbled from within his engine, as you gave his dashboard a comforting touch. And as long as she's beside me, I'll do everything within my power to protect her.

[fqrcefields]

checkmate!

summary _ , jennifer barkley despises every citizen of pawnee indiana. except for one.

⋆ tags : smut-adjacent? not really sure how to tag this. mature! ⭑ࣶࣸ 

read on ao3.

 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀────୨ৎ────

From the moment she steps out of the impossibly cheap cab, Jennifer could feel the dullness in the air. Though she appreciates the lack of typical Washington humidity, there’s a replaced sense of total unhealth, of total lack of spirit and verve. As she enters Pawnee City Hall for the first time, it takes all of her might to not turn around and flee. She doesn’t like to use the word poor, but…

Who is she kidding. She loves to use the word. And this town, if one can even call it a town, is dripping in it. 

Jen hates to speak to these people. Anyone dressed in business casual attire is not worthy of her time. So, she finds her way to the competition’s office herself. Her heels stick to the floor with each quick step— she moves far faster than any of the sluggish clerks and absurdly high-ranking city officials that don’t seem to really be doing any work at all. Every door she pulls open is also covered in this same sickening stickiness. Thank God for the invention of handkerchiefs.

“Oh, Jesus.” Jennifer can’t help the words from spewing out when she pulls open the door to the Parks and Recreation offices. It’s just all so… sad. The menial workers don’t react to her entrance, barely do anything at their desk anyway. She scowls at the sight of it, of the aging employees typing with only two fingers at a time and the younger ones who stare at their phones instead of doing anything meaningful. Everything is so slow, nothing like the pace of a D.C. election circuit. A real election, something actually worth Jen’s brain power. But hey, it’s easy work, and she’d be damned not to take it. The moment she and the man-child win this town over, she’ll be off to summer on an island. What island, she could not possibly care less. As long as it’s far away from Pawnee, Indiana.

Not seeing the yapping, overexcitable blonde anywhere, Jennifer’s eyes land instead on a much more pleasant sight. The youngest employee who sits with her feet propped on the desk in front of her, reading a book. She has a jadedness about her, as if in this building filled with people who barely know how to do their job, she is the one that wants to do it the least. While Jennifer would usually find this disinterest so stale, especially on someone of this age, there’s something beneath the sideswept bangs that intrigues her, attracts her.

Jen straightens herself, takes the few steps it takes to make it to the younger woman’s desk, leans over it a bit.

“Excuse me,” She says louder than necessary in the near-silent room. The raven-haired employee does not reply, only sticks up one finger as if to say my book is more important than you, continues reading. Jennifer is… impressed. A smirk rises to her lips at the action, and she waits patiently. Though she’d never accept such a thing in her own office, she appreciates the challenge. At least there’s one other person in this God-forsaken town that’s willing to play chess where the others play checkers.

When her challenger finally finishes her chapter, she sets down her book and raised finger, finally glances up at Jennifer. Her eyes widen for a moment, a minute expression that would barely be caught if it weren’t quite literally Jennifer’s job to catch such a thing. The smirk still evident on her own face, Jen speaks up again.

“I’m here to see Leslie Knope.” She leans over the desk a bit more, wishing she weren’t so damn buttoned up, wishing to see that bewildered expression on the intern’s face again.

“Uhm, yeah.” The other says plainly, her voice shockingly deep, carrying the same indifference that the rest of her does. She then realizes her place, must recognize Jennifer Barkley for who she is, and sits up straight in her chair, feet dropping to the floor. She points to the door at her left. “Her office is in there.”

There’s the blush that Jennifer had been looking for. She pulls back, straightens up, flicks her hair over the shoulder once, twice. She turns on her heels with ever the dramatic flair and walks to where the black-painted nail had directed her. Even though this meeting would be excruciating, at least she’d have this little memory of Knope’s pretty receptionist. Or whatever lousy job title the woman held.

“Hey, aren’t you that lady that called Leslie a dog murderer?” The deep voice calls out again, eliciting a silent laugh from Jennifer. As she enters the next room, she looks back over her shoulder, winks to the girl. Jen hates to wear a smile as she enters this meeting, but the puzzled expression she’d been met with could only bring such a thing.

She exchanges false pleasantries with the overzealous blonde, barely registers a word said. They’re discussing campaign strategies, billboards, yard signs… something like that. Who knows. Jennifer is too busy looking out the door to the desk so perfectly placed in direct view. Well, not exactly direct. She has to arch her back and pretend to be looking away out of boredom, but once she has subtly shifted her chair backwards just enough, her apathetic piece of eyecandy is back in view. She can’t take her eyes off of the woman whose nose is deep into her book. Jennifer finds herself far more interested in finding out the title of the book than she is in Knope’s incessant chattering about candy bars and voting procedures. Once she finds out just what sort of book it is that she likes, Jennifer will buy her an entire library’s worth. It’s not like she’d be taking any away from the avid readers of Pawnee, of which there are none. She’d probably be able to buy out the town’s public library with the money she’s making from the Newport family alone. Maybe she will, if it’ll force that straight line into a smile.

It feels like truly an eternity that Jennifer is sitting in this office, though she doesn’t mind it for the view that she’s given. There does come a time where she actually does need to reciprocate the conversation, to act aghast at the implication that she’s not paying attention, and as painful as it is, she turns her attention away from her new obsession. She continues in witty banter for the rest of their allotted time, outsmarting Leslie’s campaign moves with outrageous ease. Seriously, Jennifer Barkley is good at her job. No wonder she’s paid so much.

When she’s finally allowed escape from this small room that smells so much like the most obnoxious cologne known to man, she takes it. Though she could spend hours wheedling out Leslie’s ideas, spinning them into her own far better planned knock-offs, Jennifer is desperate to leave. She can feel her brain actively slowing down with each second spent in this wretched building. So, with the sweetest possible goodbye she can muster up with those last few remaining cells of energy, she leaves.

But, before she does, she allows herself one more little visit to the desk by the window, to the girl who has reassumed her previously relaxed position, her book now propped open on her lap, her eyes moving far too quickly to actually be reading. Jennifer smiles to herself, appreciates the attempt at disregard for what it is, knows that the blush is threatening the intern’s cheeks again. She can tell that she’s chewing the inside of her cheek, forcing her vision away from Jen, but she doesn’t mind. She’ll get the eye contact she so deeply desires soon enough.

The standing of the two reaches into her purse, the bag that she would never let touch a surface in this building, and produces a business card. She slides it down into the open-faced book on the woman’s lap, laughs softly when it elicits a jump out of her.

“Call me.” She purrs, once she finally has the latter’s attention. She sends another wink her way before finally leaving, feet still fighting un-mopped floor.

And as for April… April watches her leave, jaw hanging open as if she’s just seen a ghost. She feels incredibly dirty for the way that her vision glues to the swinging hips, but the curvature squeezed by pencil skirt begs to be worshipped as it disappears into the hallway.  

__________________________

It doesn’t take many days for Jennifer to grow painfully bored of her hotel room. One can only watch Joan Callamezzo ramble nonsense for so many hours in a day. And though she does not feel like entering into Pawneean society, there must be somewhere where she can get an actual mixed drink instead of another bottle of hotel wine, so she turns to the internet. It comes to no surprise that Pawnee’s nightlife is far from illustrious, and though her only options are clubs of the night and strip varieties, she settles for the former. She doesn’t even want to imagine what beasts will haunt the night scene on a Wednesday night in the middle of nowhere, but she finds out soon enough upon entering the bar whose name she forgets before even reading it.

Jennifer is caught by surprise that the inhabitants she finds aren’t so monstrous, that she can actually stand to look at them. She may find her way to the dance floor eventually, but even still she’d promised herself not to get too messy in her time here. There’s no way she’s embarrassing herself in front of people whose normal is Jennifer’s idea of sloppiness.

She orders whatever stupid gimmick drink is at the top of the list, needing something that will actually ignite her tastebuds no matter the sugar content, and takes a seat at the bar, surveying the room. It’s quite literally the antithesis of a Washington club. Jennifer’s sure the heaviest drug done in this room is tobacco, if these people even have the gall to smoke a cigarette. They’re all so painfully boring, it nearly puts Jennifer to sleep where she sits. Though she’s far from the life of a party, she could stand to loosen her blouse and make out with a girl or two.

Just as she’s slid an unnaturally purple drink, Jennifer locks onto a form at the end of the bar. It would be impossible to ignore, the swooped bangs and striped shirt, jeans that are neither work appropriate nor fit for a club. The hunched posture was what truly gave it away, her aloof attitude would stick her out like a sore thumb in any crowd, at least in Jen’s eyes. She definitely doesn’t want to be picked out of the crowd, probably isn’t seen by anyone other than Jennifer. They’re both here for the same reason, to have a cheap drink and be on their way.

After a few minutes’ worth of staring, Jennifer’s target begins to move. Not toward the exit nor the dance floor, but to the bathroom, where Jennifer eagerly follows suit after throwing back whatever rancid, over-flavored vodka tonic she’d been served. She pushes past the sweaty bodies of dancers that she figured must be from out of town— there’s just no way this many people even exist in the city limits of Pawnee. Jenn huffs and growls at each body that she forces her way past, hating the feeling of dirty hands on such expensive fabric. She holds herself close, rolling her eyes when several people stumble over her feet.

It's with a dramatic sigh that she finally enters the bathroom. Though she doesn’t mean to be, Jennifer will always be keen on the dramatics, on making her emotions well known. Though careerwise it’d be much better for her to keep a sophisticated mysteriousness such as her impervious intern, she finds it much more fun to tell people exactly what she finds annoying about them.

Jennifer primps herself in front of the mirror; makes sure the string of pearls is on straight, lays down her hair so that it stays in its barrel curls. She’s also quite the stickler for appearance, a trait that the rest of Pawnee so seems to lack. While she looks over herself in the glass, a door swings open behind her, and out emerges her raven, who, when her eyes finally lift to find Jennifer standing at the sink, stops in her tracks. It’s an adorable color on her, this shock and awe on a face so fit for lack thereof. Once again that smirk returns to Jennifer, a grin that’s so easily faked yet in this instance could not be more genuine.

“Aren’t you going to wash your hands?” Jennifer asks slyly, firmly patting the sink beside her. The younger complies, Jen watching her through the mirror as she does so. She notes the serious focus that takes the dark features, the control forced over muscles to cease a smile or a reaction of any kind. Jennifer loves it, the resistance, the denial to admit ones feelings. It’s out of her own book. It’s so intoxicating to have a cat to play with instead of yet another mouse.

“You didn’t call me.” Jennifer continues, lower lip protruding into a false pout. “Such a shame. I’ve already gotten so lonely…” She shrugs, pulls lipstick from her purse, begins to apply it liberally. Though the action forces her attention to her own visage, that of the girl beside her is not lost, still in her peripheral.  “At least tell me your name, hm?”

“April.” The shorter replies— though, she may not truly be shorter, it’s only that Jen wears five inch heels where April dons low-top converse. She finally ceases her inattentive hand washing, turns to take a paper towel. When she turns back, however, she is met by a body much closer than it had been, nearly pressing her against the wall. There’s no hiding the rush of blood to her cheeks this time. April must finally face the fact that she is truly, deeply enthralled with this woman. She has been since the first time she’d appeared on the television set spewing that nasty rhetoric about Leslie Knope, her manner of speaking so outwardly charismatic it charmed April right away.

There’s something to be said about charisma and lack thereof attracting each other.

April stutters for a moment, something she’s quite literally never done, brain seeking for something to say along the lines of you’re a dick to my boss, I hate you, but the words never come. Mostly because she doesn’t want to say them. As much as she loves Leslie, how much she wants them to win and for the woman in front of her to stop badgering their campaign on live tv, she is also wholly infatuated with the pantsuits and wicked words.

Jennifer chews her lower lip, which is still curled up into that shit-eating grin, enjoying the mess she’s turned April into far too much. She’d not dare interrupt her babbling nor her bated breathing with words of her own. The ball has now been swung into April’s court, and as greedy  as she feels to lay a kiss on those trembling lips, Jennifer wants to wait to see what her opponent swing back.

Though, instead of witty banter or biting criticism, Jennifer is met with hands on her jaw, lips on her own. She accepts it hungrily, not at all needing even a second to realize what’s happened nor to adjust to the touch. It feels all too natural, and it’s instinct that leads her hands down to slide into the back pockets of April’s jeans, her thumbs into the belt loops. What wretched material, denim. She’d hate the rough feeling on her palms were it not for the soft flesh it covered.

They’re both starving for this, tongues dancing for dominance in the other’s mouth, dark red lipstick smudged against skin that hasn’t seen this amount of makeup in quite a while. Jennifer pushes her weight into April with such fervor that she’s forced up onto the sink, the former settling between the latter’s thighs, kissing her until her back hits the cold mirror.

They each elicit soft groans out of the other, that smug smirk ever present on Jennifer’s lips when April gets too loud. Jen’s lips stray downward, down to the strong jaw, trailing her scarlet down onto the clean flesh. Her hands sneak below the woven fabric of April’s sweater, the soft skin rippling in reaction, so cold against Jen’s warm hands that is almost shocks her. Not at all in a bad way, though. It only offers more surface area in need of her kisses, desperate to be warmed by Jen’s coaxing touch.

It's that very thought that forces Jennifer backwards. She stands upright, looks at the mess of her own creation, frowns a genuine frown when April whines from the sudden lack of touch.

“Oh, baby.” Jennifer sighs, pouts more, licks her thumb and lifts it to April’s mouth, which instinctively opens to accept it, yet the thumb swerves to wipe some of the lipstick from her chin. “I’m sorry. But you know I can’t in good conscience fuck the competition. As much as I want to.” Then, she smiles, watching intently how April reacts to this news. The way her brows furrow, her hand lifts and slightly punches the sink below her in anger.

No, Jennifer certainly does not imply to stand by this rule. They’ll find themselves in this club bathroom again quite soon. But she can’t very well allow April her checkmate this early into the game. So she turns on her heels, grabs her purse, leaves with a third (certainly not final) wink over the shoulder.

“I’ll see ya!” She calls, and disappears behind swinging doors. 

[goblinparty]

here's a good thread on bsky about what's happening with the judge that was arrested.

the tl:dr of it all was ice decided to come arrest a man who was in court on unrelated charges with only an administrative warrant (aka not a legal warrant), and the judge told them to beat feet, referring them to the chief judge. she also had the man in question leave the courtroom out of a doorway that was different from the one ice agents left through, but still led to the same public hallway.

the judge, hannah dugan, has now been arrested and charged with two felonies.

[collapsedsquid]

The Trump administration said in a court filing Wednesday it cannot comply with a federal judge's order to release foreign aid funding by midnight, despite being directed to do so almost two weeks ago. Lawyers for the Justice Department made the claim in papers filed to a federal appeals court seeking a stay of the lower court's ruling. The filing said that if the D.C. U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals doesn't pause the order, the government won't be able to make the deadline because it will take "weeks" to free up the money it owes. [...]

The groups also said the government's assertion that it would take so long to release the cash "beggars belief." "For twelve days, Defendants have stonewalled and abjectly defied the district court’s unambiguous temporary restraining order," they contended, adding "it makes no sense that the State Department and USAID — which have had no trouble timely disbursing payments for decades before the unlawful funding freeze — would now be unable to do so, but for Defendants’ deliberate efforts to halt payments." "Defendants have erected numerous new barriers to compliance at every turn. This conduct cannot be explained as anything other than willful defiance of the Court’s orders," the plaintiffs said in another filing.

Declaring that the government itself is in contempt of court and must pay a fine of $1 million a day until it is resolved.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Joyce Vance at Civil Discourse:

When I was going through the selection process for a U.S. Attorney, I was worried about my qualifications. I had been with the Justice Department for over 15 years. I’d spent a decade as a criminal prosecutor before moving to the office’s appellate division. There, I had become the office’s senior litigation counsel, and then the chief of the appellate division. I had tried a lot of cases and argued a number of cases in front of the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals. But I was still worried that I didn’t have enough experience for such an important job. A U.S. Attorney’s duties are outlined in a law passed by Congress. The statute charges each of the 93 U.S. Attorneys nationwide with prosecuting criminal cases, defending the government (or sometimes prosecuting) in civil actions, and collecting moneys owed to the government. They are also charged with making “such reports as the Attorney General may direct.” U.S. Attorneys take on responsibility for a wide array of issues that impact the Justice Department nationwide, as well as our work with other agencies and with our communities. Most U.S. Attorneys come to the job with a lot of legal experience and some exposure to management—running the office is part of the job. But none of that matters if you are Ed Martin, Trump’s nominee to be U.S. Attorney in the District of Columbia, one of the largest and most important offices. Every nominee to be a U.S. Attorney has to submit answers to a document called the Senate Judiciary Questionnaire, which is used by senators during the advice and consent process. Martin’s can be found here, so you can take a look at how he presents himself.

Among his issues:

Martin supported the “Stop the Steal” movement after the 2020 election. He moved to dismiss pending January 6-related cases as soon as he became the interim U.S. Attorney. He fired prosecutors who worked on the cases and launched an internal review to try to find misconduct, not that any had been alleged. He is investigating Justice Department prosecutors who brought charges against rioters, never mind that some of those charges included seditious conspiracy, defendants were convicted by juries, and convictions were confirmed on appeal.

Martin has never been a prosecutor. Total lack of experience in that regard. Martin worked for a well-known firm, Bryan, Cave, in its Washington, D.C., office for just over two years before leaving to open his own firm. He provided senators with a description of his work that claims 40% of his practice was in litigation before being forced to concede that he has never tried a case. He claims some criminal defense experience, involving January 6 defendants, and he does something I’ve never seen before—when asked for his top 10 cases as experience for the job, he claims a case that is in the office he is currently leading on an interim basis. That suggests his level of experience is pretty slim.

In his interim position, Martin has been making public comments that will impact cases, as in leading district judges to dismiss them. DOJ policy expressly prohibits prosecutors from suggesting a defendant is guilty before they are convicted. Defendants are presumed innocent until proven guilty. Statements like this one, that Martin made on Twitter, are highly prejudicial and can prevent the Department from obtaining convictions in cases where the evidence would otherwise support them.

Then there is also the defense of vindictive/selective prosecution, which can get a conviction reversed. That’s usually a tough hill to climb, as we saw in the Hunter Biden prosecution, but Martin is a defense lawyer’s best friend in this regard. For instance, after reaching out—on Twitter—to express his support for Elon Musk and DOGE, he then suggested he’d prosecute anyone who got in their way. His negative comments about Democrats would taint any prosecution. Courts look harshly on prosecutors who engage in this kind of behavior. As Justice Sutherland wrote in a 1935 opinion, while a prosecutor “may strike hard blows, he is not at liberty to strike foul ones.”

Martin has used his office to threaten views that are different than those of this administration. For instance, Martin wrote to medical journals across the country, stating in one letter that “It has been brought to my attention that more and more journals and publications … are conceding that they are partisans in various scientific debates.” He demanded a response to a series of questions “about misinformation, competing viewpoints and the influence of funders such as advertisers and the National Institutes of Health,” before advising the journal that “The public has certain expectations and you have certain responsibilities.” Martin is an interim U.S. Attorney, and if he had a legitimate criminal investigation, he could issue subpoenas for grand jury testimony. If he had a civil case, there are other investigative techniques. This letter is the work of a dangerous bully. Federal prosecutors don’t tell scientists what to believe and publish.

[...]

Some reporters have recently suggested that Martin doesn’t have the votes for confirmation, which would be great. But Republicans have a way of doing Trump’s bidding. There is no need to look further than Kash Patel and Pete Hegseth.

Confirming right-wing extremist Phyllis Schlafly disciple Ed Martin to a permanent gig as DC Attorney is an insult to law and order.

[sunny-mercya]

Expresso Shots

Tony DiNozzo x Male Reader

Fandom -> NCIS

Requested by -> @sukuna-wafiu

Masterlist

A faint smell of medium dark roasted coffee—long forgotten and cold by now, from its loneliness of ignored attention—brewed with the distinctive flavour of caramel and ginger spice in it, lingered through the room like a warm breeze of early autumn afternoons—when the sun slowly slipped away, with its last few warm breath of light, into the darkness.

There's a particular spot, kinda like a mark or close to resembling a scar, on the orange coloured wall—in between the hung up frames of different scenery from Washington D.C, Maryland and Virgina—and Tony never took notice of that spot till now and he have to say, it looks absolutely ugly to look at it.

Tony didn't even know why he keeps staring at it, because when he gotten back to your office section—minimal surprised to see it empty as, by the time now, you and others of your colleagues should be back from the investigations—after having brought the cups of Coffee for the daily shared break, waiting for you, Tony's attention had been unintentional drawn to the ugly mark on the wall.

You're awfully late, Tony noted—glancing down onto his watch—10pm already and you told him you would be back from the investigations by 4, yet your desk still empty and void of your presence.

»DiNozzo? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the Hospital?« it's Lacy's voice, which pulled Tony out of his stupor staring.

Lacy Lacrosse—or Lala as you would nickname her from time to time, is one of your teammates and close to being a good friend—had been surprised to find Tony still in the office, questioning why no one seemed to have informed Tony—despite him being your emergency contact number one—about your situation conditions and your stay in the hospital.

»What you mean hospital? I'm waiting for [Name]. You guys are awfully late, by the way.«

»Tony....« Lacy sighed out, feeling now even more worn out than before, because Tony genuinely didn't seem to know and now she had to tell him and that's lowkey a point of exhaustion—simply in the sense of having to retell the whole story of what happened again and also making it clear, that you're doing—more or less—okay.

»Tony......[Name] is.....he's in the hospital.« Lacy decided to just rip off the bandaid of bad news in one go, it's easier that way.

There a thousand thoughts running through Tony's mind, when Lacy told him these news, but none of these had stuck—expect for one, getting to you as fast as possible and making sure, desperately hoping, you're alright.

~~~•~~~

Groaning in discomfort, you moved a bit—although this tiny movement caused already a slight wave of pain coursing through your nerve system—around on your hospital bed, hoping to find a bit of relief—because constantly laying on your left side, while the right throbbed painfully, wasn't so comfortable as it seemed to be and especially not with the amount of pillows—to keep you from moving around in your sleep and cracking up your hip even more—being propped up against your back.

Huffing out a breath, after having accomplishing the small task of—although still laying on your left, but slightly leaning back—moving into a comfortable position of posture, you looked at Tony—whose had been sitting on the plain white chair, hunched over and hands folded into a prayer, even though Tony wasn't a person for god or any religious beliefs—a few hours now, barely moving as if he's frozen or didn't want to spook you with his movements.

There was also this blank, almost vacant—as if he wasn't in the current time flow of the here and now—and unblinking stare in Tony's eyes, which brought a ounce of concern to you, because you never had seen your boyfriend like this before—it's just something new, despite being in a four years into a relationship, to discover and given your current injury state it might have short circuit Tony.

»Tony? Tony, love, could you get me a new hot water bottle please?« you asked, voice a bit hoarse and rough, but Tony remains unresponsive, keep staring at whatever there's to stare at.

It's like a repeat—Tony's mind wandering back to these unpleasant memories, rewinding them like a strong gush of upcoming wind after a calm—of the accident in the depths of Virgina's snowy mountains and forest, two years ago.

First it was being stuck in the car—a Queen Cassette on repeat, especially the song Somebody to love, to listen to—which had been sabotaged to break down in the middle of nowhere street, during their drive back to the base—after finishing up a second investigation in the lonesome, ghost walking empty, mountain town—and getting hit by a snowstorm.

And being stuck in the car with you during a snowstorm—which Tony would have find romantic, if it weren't for a case—wasn't the bad thing to happened, it was what had happened next.

After a few hours of rough sleeping on the backseats and when the snowstorm had passed, there had been a fresh bloody trail on the thick snowed up ground and Tony—after having mobile signal again, sending a quick sms to Gibbs and the others—persuaded you to follow these trails with him.

And you even told Tony, it wouldn't be such a wise idea to do so, but he didn't listen—insisting more and more to follow the trail and getting to a possible suspect—and so, one accident lead to another.

What also wasn't so wisely decided from Tony, was to split up and search through the area alone—with nothing but a gun, one extra ammunition and a knife for potential protection—which had lead you into the misery of being getting stuck in a small bear trap (which only had left a good bleeding, swollen ankle and a sore scarring afterwards) and then crashing into a frozen lake and almost drowning if, thanks to god and the fates, Tony hadn't been near enough to hear your scream and barely getting you out of the lake.

Tony had carried you all the way back to an, kinda as it looked maintained enough to be still in use, abandoned hut—which he had discovered—jogging back and forth from hut to car to get some needed stuff.

Once he had started a chimney fire, Tony undresses you completely naked, tending with the first-aid kit to your wounded swollen ankle, before huddling you up into blankets—to keep you from getting hypothermia and a possible high fever—and holding you close in his arms, hoping you would wake up soon from your unconsciousness and being okay.

~~~•~~~

Tony flinched, being roughly pulled out of his thoughts—which resembles fleeting leaves being swept away by the wind—when something hit him one the head

»Yeah?« Tony asks, looking at you with a raised eyebrow of questioning—finding no amusement of getting hit by a paper ball.

You frowned at Tony for a second, before you raised an eyebrow of your own—reaching your hand out for his and it does takes Tony a moment to grab your hand and giving a long good squeeze.

»Tony, you're okay? I've never seeing you spaced out like this.«

»It's all good, just in thought.«

Tony remembers clearly your blue quivering lips and the ashen, frozen cold, complexion of your face—so ghostly, that Tony had to feel for your pulse more than just once, just to make sure you're still alive.

And somehow, while seeing you on the hospital bed once more, your lips looking blue once again—as if you didn't get enough oxygen or being on the brink of hypothermia.

»Care to share your thoughts?«

»It's just.....just.....you know, seeing you like this, injured and in pain, makes me so.....urgh, I don't know.«

Aah. You knew exactly, as it wasn't the first time, what your boyfriend's problem was—while your dad, as a single parent of six (with you being the youngest) children, was hellbent keen on teaching you and your siblings how to express feelings, Tony himself wasn't so lucky and had to suffer through a distance and detached father figure in his life.

Tony had decided not to tell you about his memory diving to your accident—which also caused you a fear of being surrounded by water too long—back then, because if he does, you would ask him what he's talking about as you don't remember any of it anymore.

»Hey, it's fine. I'm not really hurt at all. It's just a shattered hip, nothing life threatening, love. Really, I will be forever bound to desk work and suffer through paper chaos.« you laughed a bit, grunting in pain afterwards from moving too much.

»Yeah, it's just, you did gave me quite the scare, when Lacy told me you're in the hospital.« admits Tony truthfully, sighing out and giving you another squeeze.

It really was a scare for Tony to get told by Lacy—who only came back to the office to get some of your stuff and it was mere coincidence for her to find Tony there in the first place—and not by the hospital or Helms or Gibbs themselves of what had happened to you—although in later realisation they did tried to call, but Tony hadn't his phone with him.

Tony couldn't even imagine the pain you must have been in, after being shot—during the suspect chase—two time in a row into the right hip and crash landing into a window.

»I could tell, with how you rushed inside here, all panicked and both McGee and Jenner apologising on your behalf of behaviour.«

»Well, Jenner wouldn't let me thru to you, had to wrestling him away and McGee was babbling something while waiting for Lacy. Ten bucks, McGee's crushing on her.«

»Twenty bucks. You know how Jenner can be. Be glad neither Helms nor Gibbs are here, otherwise you would have been booted out of the hospital completely.« another laugh escaped your lips.

Tony smiled, hearing you laughter—despite the pain filled grunts whenever you moved your bandaged up hips too much or even slightly—was such a pleasant sound to his ears, that Tony sighed softly in relief and it felt as a weight of tension was being lifted of him.

Getting up from the chair, still holding your hand, Tony leans and down and pressing a soft kiss onto your forehead—giving you one of his charming gentle smiles, which could make your knees buckling weak, before locking his lips with yours for a sweet short kiss.

»Anything else besides the hot water bottle?«

»A cup of (f.drink), please.«

»Anything for you, mio caro.«

[darkmaga-returns]

On March 18, another D.C. Circuit judge seized executive branch powers, enjoining the commander-in-chief from disqualifying military recruits with gender dysphoria. District Court Judge Ana Reyes, who identifies as some variety of LGBT, is a longtime Democrat Party donor and, as a lawyer, litigated against the first Trump administration. We knew she’d rule this way, not only because of her bio, but also because in oral arguments she insisted forcing soldiers to lie about reality couldn’t possibly affect military readiness.

In a memorandum accompanying her injunction, the so-called judge writes an opinion screed citing recent court opinions, the Broadway hip-hop play Hamilton, the Supreme Court legislation Bostock v. Clayton County, and corporate news articles. It would be impossible for this theater kid in robes to write a constitutional legal analysis instead, for the Constitution expressly provides in Article II, Section 2, that “The President shall be Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States.”

Commanders in chief get to set the criteria, expectations, goals, and just about everything else for soldiers. Accordingly, Trump implemented this same policy in his first term. It was 100 percent constitutional then, and it’s 100 percent constitutional now. If Presidents Clinton, Obama, and Biden get to allow queer soldiers, and all the presidents before to discharge them, clearly it is fully within the president’s power to make this decision.

Ignoring this basic aspect of U.S. law and jurisprudence takes Reyes 79 pages, in Cluster B, valley-girl prose. That’s because Reyes is not a judge, she’s an activist who doesn’t deserve a place on any judicial bench — or in any courtroom at all (except as a defendant). That much is obvious from her opinion, as well as from her background.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

In sum, the ruling holds that the courts do not have jurisdiction over personnel decisions (those belong in front of the Merit Systems Protection Board), do not have jurisdiction over grant termimations (those belong in front of the Court of Claims), and the failure to require a bond for the injunction will cause irreparable harm to the government.  As the thread rightly notes, this ruling firmly highlights critical jurisdictional issues that many of the district court judges have been blithely hand-waving away and, even more critically, reminds the courts that just as the executive needs to follow the law, so, too, do the courts. 

Great first step in reigning in these rogue judges.

[mariacallous]

A federal appeals court ruled Monday that a pair of Democratic labor officials fired by President Donald Trump should be reinstated, setting the stage for an all but certain Supreme Court battle over executive power.

Trump fired Gwynne Wilcox, a member of the National Labor Relations Board, and Cathy Harris, a member of the Merit Systems Protection Board, shortly after his inauguration in January. Wilcox and Harris sued on the grounds their removals violated Supreme Court precedent.

The 7-4 ruling from the full D.C. Circuit on Monday reverses an earlier panel decision that allowed the firings.

The Trump administration has been taking an axe to the independence of such agencies, arguing the president can remove members in the middle of their terms at will. The firings of Wilcox and Harris eliminated quorums at both the NLRB and MSPB, which referee workplace disputes and enforce workers’ rights.

Facing legal pushback to the firings, the White House is hoping to upend a 1935 Supreme Court ruling that protects members of independent boards from presidential meddling. The White House has argued that the precedent, known as Humphrey’s Executor, is unconstitutional.

If the Supreme Court’s conservative supermajority agrees with the administration, it could grant the president new power over the executive branch and bless many of Trump’s legally dubious firings since taking office. Such a ruling could change the way independent agencies and boards operate, likely making them more partisan.

[subdee]

The party of "law and order" uh huh.

Btw they aren't just doing all of the above, they're also putting law firms associated with the Democrats on a blacklist and revoking security clearance; threatening to suspend the broadcast licenses of CBS and NBC; trying to shut down the Democrats' main fundraising platform ActBlue with a spurious lawsuit; and just today the FBI arrested at federal judge *at the courthouse* for not complying with an ICE raid there.

(For those who dont see why this is a problem, ICE are not - or I guess formerly were not - supposed to enter sensitive places like schools and courthouses. FOR GOOD REASON. It will NOT make us safer if people who've been here 12 years with no criminal convictions start skipping out on their court cases.)

Like. However bad you think it is. IT IS WORSE. Luckily the courts aren't letting them get away with all the horrible things they want to do.