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riesenfeldcenter · 2 years

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From the archives: this Halloween-themed masthead from a 1972 issue of Quid Pro Quo.

Happy October!

#halloween #spooky season #from the archives #archives #umn law #riesenfeld center #university of minnesota #quid pro quo #student newsletter #prosser on torts #1970s #studying #law students

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 7 months

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M.Wuerker

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Joe Biden continues to deliver!

October 5, 2023

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

As the House spirals into chaos, President Joe Biden announced the cancellation of $9 billion of student debt for public service workers. Per the NYTimes (accessible to all),

President Biden canceled an additional $9 billion in student debt on Wednesday as repayments started up again this month after a three-year pause. The move affects 125,000 people who qualify under existing programs, including for public-service workers such as teachers and firefighters and for people on permanent disability, according to a White House statement. “This kind of relief is life changing for individuals and their families,” Mr. Biden said on Wednesday.

The $9 billion in forgiveness for public service workers is a small portion of Biden’s plan to forgive $400 billion in student debt for about 43 million Americans, a plan that was invalidated by the Supreme Court under the so-called “Major Questions Doctrine.” That doctrine is a judicially invented artifice that allows the Supreme Court to invalidate any congressional legislation it objects to on policy grounds.

Of course, Congress could overrule the Supreme Court’s opinion blocking the forgiveness of student debt—but that would require Democrats to gain a majority in the House, retain control of the Senate, and re-elect President Biden. Each of those outcomes is achievable. If we can achieve those goals in 2024, Democrats can also pass national legislation to protect reproductive liberty, regulate the sale of firearms, protect voting rights, ensure the equality of LGBTQ people, and expand the Supreme Court.

Biden’s act of forgiving student loan debt for 125,000 Americans provides a glimpse of the promise of 2024 if Democrats regain control of Congress and re-elect Joe Biden. I know we are all working at full speed and do not need additional motivation. But it is helpful to recall how much better things can be if we are successful.

The race to replace Kevin McCarthy.

Let’s get this out of the way: No, Donald Trump won’t be the next Speaker of the House, despite suggestions to that effect from Marjorie Taylor Greene. The one thing Republicans love more than Trump is holding onto their jobs. They know that electing Trump as Speaker would ensure the loss of control of the House and the defeat of Trump as a presidential candidate. Republicans will figure out that fact after they have milked their fifteen minutes of fame for nominating Trump as Speaker.

Trump doesn’t want to be Speaker, which is a real job that requires hard work in exchange for the enmity of the Republican caucus. And if Republicans lose their collective minds and elect Trump as Speaker, he will trigger government shutdowns, legislative gridlock, and physical altercations on the House floor (among Republicans). He would quit in weeks, forcing Republicans to go through a humiliating third election for Speaker in a year.

Trump had plenty of opportunity to step up to the Speaker’s job when McCarthy went through fifteen rounds of votes. He didn’t then, and he isn’t going to do so now.

Finally, Trump is ineligible to be Speaker under rules passed by the Republican caucus. See MSNBC, Why Trump, despite the chatter, won’t become House speaker. Per MSNBC,

House Republican Conference rules for the 118th Congress clearly states, “A member of the Republican Leadership shall step aside if indicted for a felony for which a sentence of two or more years imprisonment may be imposed.”

Could Republicans amend their own rule? Sure! But they won’t.

I could be proven wrong, but I don’t think I will be. Why? I believe House Republicans will put their self-interest in re-election over their faux fealty to Trump. As we saw yesterday, it takes only five Republicans to break from the party to stop the GOP caucus in its tracks.

Okay, with that elephant in the courtroom out of the way, let’s talk about the two announced candidates. But before we do, I want to answer a question a reader posed: Did Democrats make a mistake by not backing McCarthy? Will we end up with someone worse?

No. Democrats did not make a mistake. McCarthy said in his farewell pity party that he did not want to work with Democrats. He said,

he would not have wanted to be speaker at the cost of relying on Democrats to provide votes or making concessions to win their votes. “No. I’m a Republican. I win by Republicans, and I lose by Republicans.”

If Democrats had begun voting for McCarthy on the motion to vacate, other Republicans would have started voting against him or he would have resigned before the vote concluded. McCarthy wouldn’t allow Democrats to choose the Speaker of the House while Republicans hold the majority.

This brings us to Jim Jordan and Steve Scalise, both miserable candidates for the job of Speaker. Are they worse than McCarthy? That’s a high bar—or is it a low bar? (You get the point.) Both are unfit for the office, but the GOP caucus is apparently not ready to acknowledge that it cannot govern unless it nominates a candidate capable of building a coalition.

See Slate op-ed by Norman L. Eisen, Siven Watt, and Fred Wertheimer, Jim Jordan shows he's unfit to lead the Judiciary Committee.

See The Guardian, House speaker contender Steve Scalise reportedly called himself ‘David Duke without the baggage.”

But here is the most disqualifying fact about Jordan and Scalise: Both objected to the count of the electoral ballots on January 6 after the assault on the Capitol! See Vox, 147 Republican lawmakers still objected to the election results after the Capitol attack. For the record, Kevin McCarthy also objected to the electoral count after the attack on the Capitol. That fact should be a red flag for every Republican thinking of supporting Jordan or Scalise.

Trump continues to attack prosecutors and judges.

On the third day of his trial in New York state court for fraudulent business practices, Trump continued his attack on Attorney General Letitia James and Judge Engoron. He posted on his vanity social media platform:

The Trial in NYC brought by the Racist A.G., Letitia James . . . should be dismissed in that [DELETED] and the Judge fraudulently reduced the value of Mar-a-Lago, and other assets, in order to make their FAKE case more viable. This is yet another Witch Hunt for purposes of Election Interference. Letitia is a Dirty Cop . . . .

(Note that I deleted a racist term used by Trump to refer to Attorney General Letitia James.)

Trump accuses Judge Engoron of “fraudulently” reducing the value of Trump's assets, and says that A.G. James was a “Dirty Cop.” I cannot understand why such language has not resulted in severe sanctions against Trump.

Dennis Aftergut reviews Judge Engoron’s existing gag order against Trump in The Messenger, Trump’s Consequences for Crossing the Line: A Gag Order That Opens the Door for More. Aftergut explains that Engoron’s order opens the door for Judge Chutkan to issue more expansive relief:

Trump is facing an October 16 hearing on a motion by special counsel Jack Smith for a gag order in D.C.; that's where Trump's federal indictment for criminally conspiring to overturn the 2020 election is set to be tried in March. While what just happened in the New York case is very different from the situation in the federal case, Trump just handed D.C. federal district court Judge Tanya Chutkan a first-ever precedent for limiting Trump's speech. No judge wants to act in the absence of a prior ruling in the same direction, particularly as to a gag order motion that presents highly sensitive First Amendment issues. [¶] It’s a safe bet that as the D.C. trial date approaches, Trump will continue, even escalate, his vile attacks on the administration of justice. [¶] A stalwart federal judge like Tanya Chutkan will not be intimidated; indeed, her judicial spine likely will only be stiffened by [such] threats . . . .

Trump is pushing the envelope, whether he intends to or not. I noted a few weeks ago that Trump seems to be losing control of his emotions and thoughts in a way that suggests a mental breakdown or a progressive cognitive decline. Or he could be seeking a confrontation, betting that no judge would jail him. While jailing Trump would be traumatic for the nation, it will be far worse to do so after violence occurs.

A story by Lucian Truscott in his Substack blog lends great weight to the notion that Trump is looking for confrontation. You will recall that Trump visited a gun store in South Carolina and made a show of buying a gun. When the media noted that it was illegal for him to buy a gun while on pretrial release for 91 felony counts, his spokesperson claimed that Trump did not actually complete the purchase transaction.

But as Lucian Truscott explains, the real story is that Trump selected the gun store in South Carolina as a signal to white supremacists that he stands with them. See Lucian Truscott, The mainstream media completely missed the story when reporting on Trump's visit to the South Carolina gun store.

Truscott writes:

Candidate Trump’s stop at a gun store in South Carolina on Monday wasn’t just an offhand visit: His eight SUV convoy doesn’t do anything without advance planning days or even weeks ahead of any event Trump attends or location he visits. He made a decision to stop at Palmetto State Armory in Summerville, South Carolina, because he knew that that specific gun store was where the racist shooter in Jacksonville, Florida bought the guns he used to kill three Black people at a Dollar General store in late August. On the receiver of one gun, the [Jacksonville] killer had painted a swastika right next to the engraved name of the store where he bought it, Palmetto State Armory. It’s just one month after the killings occurred. Memories are strong, and emotions in the Black community are still raw.

As Truscott notes, the choice of the Palmetto State Armory store was no accident. The store is well-known “among gun people for its connections to the racist Boogaloo Boys,” whose members were involved in the kidnap attempt of Michigan Governor Whitmer and were present at the “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville (about which Trump said there were “good people on both sides.”).

There is more detail in Truscott’s deeply researched article. Check it out.

Here’s the point: The evidence suggests that Trump is intentional in his provocations. He knows exactly what buttons he is pushing. Federal and state judges should assume so when evaluating whether Trump should be jailed pending his criminal trials.

#Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter #Speaker of the House #House Republicans #student loan debt #TFG #gag order #Robert B. Hubbell #Lucian Truscott #M.Wuerker

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figofswords · 2 years

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your early twenties are really about eating pasta and receiving emails

#thank you bags of tortellini from the refrigerator section for keeping college students fed #no thank you daily newsletter from my school

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livlaurren · 9 months

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Hey, Hello, Hiya

Allo allo, my sweets! It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Liv, a 30-year-old psychology student smack bang in the middle of my degree. But more than that, I am a deep thinker, an emotional jellybean, an imperfect human mess, an imaginative and passionate girl trying - like everyone - to figure all of this shit out.

I have overcome many mental health struggles throughout my life. At different moments, I have been diagnosed (and misdiagnosed) with depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar, BPD, and C-PTSD to find that my struggles are what make me human. Although I am no longer considered 'unwell', I do still have occasional battles with mild OCD, anxiety, and - the cherry on top - existential dread. I have taken medicines, been hospitalised, practised meditation, committed to therapy, filled out worksheets, and finally found refuge within myself. My trauma does not define me, but my trauma has led to the identification of my true strengths. It has led me to my broadened perspectives, allowed my softening vulnerability, and brought me a willingness to continue growing. To somehow survive and live among life's indecisive grey shadows.

Much of my current perspective grounds itself within existential, gestalt, and person-centred theories. The constants for me are life, death, and anxiety. Our unique expansion and growth lie within learning to accept these often overwhelming concepts and simultaneously learning to accept that we may never fully accept or understand them -- living among the black, the white, and the grey.

Don't worry, though; I am not a pessimist! I am, by nature, a kooky lil nihilistic optimist. I believe in people's innate goodness and finding joy by choosing our own meaning of life.

My aim here is to gather a positive mental health community and create a space to explore life, death, anxiety, and all that exists (or doesn't) in between. I'll be drawing from my thoughts, academic research, pop culture, social currency and history, and your ideas and comments to broaden our perspectives and maybe provide a helping hand out of the slumps we might end up in. I also have a background as an artist and would love to incorporate some collaborative, communal art zines and the like in the future.

If this sounds like your bag, baby, follow along for the ride! Send through an ask with comments, ideas, suggestions, or anything if you wish. Otherwise, read along, engage if and when you feel like it, and let's get this space open and thriving.

I am so looking forward to exploring and growing through the tough stuff together.

Kindest, Liv.

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browngirllawyer · 2 years

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introduction: her

Hello!! This is my first post here but hi. I’m your new favorite true crime blogger. Here we’ll be discussing true legal cases amongst all eras, changes to our legal system as well as new laws *cough cough the ban on abortion cough cough*. I’m excited to welcome you to the new family and hopefully you’ll find some use from this for your future law or criminology related careers.

Until next time angels!!

love,

browngirllawyer

#law #truecrime #blog #student #crime #crime case #study blog #legal newsletters #court rooms #law student #future lawyer #career #crime/legal action

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nightfalldeepness · 2 years

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In the most pretentious sense possible, I quote that the only thing this year has taught me is that I live in uncertainties.

#newsletter #substack #writing #excerpts from my writing #writer #lovers #love letters #substackentry #first post #student #stem studyblr

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elladastinkardiamou · 2 years

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This week’s newsletter from AthensLive is out:

* Riot police go wild - and reactions grow strong *When a Commissioner took the Greek government by the ear * Turkey provokes Greece

- are the main headlines to be found inside this highly informative weekly must-read from and about Greece.

A major student demonstration took place in Thessaloniki this week after the riot police injured a student, who ended up in the hospital. At the same time, the government works on eroding the student elections system and on abolishing free housing for the poorest of the students. The government plans to make amendments to the “fake news” law that had been heavily criticized by journalists' unions and democratic institutions. This was reported after government spokesman Economou met with EU Vice President, Commissioner for Values and Transparency Věra Jourová, with their discussion focusing on Freedom of the Press issues. An exchange of heated statements between Greece and Turkey took place this week. Turkey has started a new round of provocations, directly insulting the Greek PM and going as far as to state they could even challenge the sovereignty of the Greek islands.

Add to these headlines and main features a lot more overview and details about a variety of aspects of Greece during the week - together with an abundance of links to further reading and to more knowledge about Greece today.

By reading the newsletter - and even better by subscribing or becoming a supporting member - you will also find a lot of links to other sources and to events and developments that you will not otherwise come across. And even if some of them are in Greek only, by using a Translator in your browser, it will be easy to read no matter how familiar you are with the Greek language.

It cannot be recommended strongly enough to read and share this week’s updates on the events and developments in Greece here:

https://us13.campaign-archive.com/?u=d4f2da07ebb5f5e4d14ad8e2d&id=8d95de5b55 For anyone with a wish or need to follow and to gain an insight into recent events in Greece and to read and support independent and investigative journalism in English, the weekly newsletter from AthensLive should be a core element in the reading flow.

If you want the best overview of the events and developments in Greece right now, this is the place to go. Not the mainstream Greek news, but independent journalism with sharp analysis and links to interesting and important topics from a variety of sources.

Become a member and get the newsletter in your inbox every week here:

http://bit.ly/2GkVuYt

#Greece #AthensLive #Newsletter #Media #Journalism #Press freedom #Surveillance #Predator #University #Students #Police #Oppression #Thessaloniki #Jourová #EU #Turkey #Erdogan #Foreign policy #NATO

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cnmmongrl · 9 days

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Read my newest newsletter! As always it's like a public diary entry haha. Enjoy.

#newsletter #blog #blog post #writing #diary #public diary #art #art student

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riesenfeldcenter · 2 years

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From the archives

“Vote for Mama Sass” wasn’t just a clever reference to Mama Cass Elliot. Kati Sasseville was a mother of six when she became the Law School Council’s first woman president in 1972.

Sasseville was a dynamic and determined activist throughout her entire life. The care and energy that Sasseville brought to the Law School comes through in this note she wrote to incoming law students in the September 1972 issue of Quid Pro Quo.

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perpetuallyconfusedgoose · 1 year

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we need to bring back punishment in schools

my moms friend works at our local jr high and just,,, the horror stories

you cant give referrals for skipping, you cant give suspensions, theres most likely other stuff that they cant do

a kid stabbed a frog a dozen times and left it on his teachers desk, and he never got in trouble until he was caught eating an edible

#its a nightmare #and the principal lies in the newsletter aboutt how “skipping is at a low” (because the students cant get in trouble for it)#i understand not giving kids punishments for everything #but disapline is something that is needed when students keep breaking the rules

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 10 months

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PHOTO OF THE DAY 7-3-23 :: THE GRAND FINALE

f/22 @ 1 sec. ISO 200 :: [Jerry Downs]

* * * *

Our 247th Fourth of July

July 4, 2023

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

JUL 4, 2023

Americans are feeling bruised on the 247th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence—with good reason. We are caught in one of those rare moments of retrograde motion of democracy in which temporary setbacks make it appear that we are losing ground. But just as the apparent retrograde motion of the planets is a trick of the eye based on our limited perspective, so too with this moment of fleeting reactionary victories. If we could observe the procession of the planets from outside our solar system, we would see that they never reverse course—they merely speed up or slow down as they move closer to and away from the sun. That variable progress creates the appearance of backward movement, which is merely an illusion for earthbound humans.

True, the reactionary victories are real, and the losses affect the lives of people in devastating ways. But viewed from the perspective of any reasonable length of time in the history of our nation—10, 25, 50, or 100 years—it is undeniable that our nation is locked onto an unchanging path toward greater freedom, liberty, and tolerance. Like the planets, our progress toward greater freedom and democracy is variable, speeding and slowing in response to the pull of momentous events that shape our destiny. This retrograde moment will pass. And, freighted with our losses, we will resume our march to secure the promises of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.

How? We simply need to summon a portion of the boldness the Founders demonstrated when they risked their lives, families, and fortunes by signing the Declaration of Independence. No more half-measures or “Yes, buts” or “He’s too old” or “She’s too young” or “Won’t the Republicans turn around and do the same thing?” We cannot set our goals by fearing what Republicans might do in the future. The challenge we face is answering this simple but daunting question, “What are we willing to do now?”

As painful as the reactionary victories have been over the last few weeks, those victories contain the seeds of MAGA extremism’s defeat. The 2024 election will be hard-fought, and we can take nothing for granted. But on nearly every issue of consequence, Democrats occupy the high-ground and have aligned themselves with the desires of the electorate to be free, safe, and healthy. Republicans are fighting losing battles on reproductive liberty, gun safety, LGBTQ equality, voting rights, educational opportunity, the climate crisis, the economy, investment in infrastructure, and protection of Medicare and Medicaid. Republicans are running on false claims that “Drag Queens” and the Walt Disney Company are grooming children, a non-existent border crisis, and tax cuts for millionaires and billionaires. If you were a political strategist and could choose a party to work for based on likelihood of success, which side would you choose?

On this Fourth of July, let’s reflect on the boldness of the Founders who—despite their deep flaws and personal failings—managed to step outside of themselves to dare great things. That is all it will take for us to overcome this retrograde moment—set our limitations aside and dare great things. We can do that. We have done that. We need only do it again.

Concluding Thoughts.

I wrote the above introduction in the early afternoon and then left to attend a concert at Tanglewood featuring James Taylor, thinking I would finish the newsletter when we returned home. That was a mistake in planning on my part. Nonetheless, I recommend a few articles that I had planned to discuss:

The Hartmann Report, “Is Student Debt a Crime Against America's Future?” A thought-provoking article that may change your view of student debt.

HuffPost, Amid SCOTUS Defeats Democrats Are Lining Up A New Wave Of Judges.

Talking Points Memo, John Roberts Keeps Wondering Why We Aren’t Done With This Whole Racism Thing Already.

Have a blessed, peaceful, and inspiring Fourth of July as we reflect on the sacrifices that have carried us to this moment in our young nation’s history.

#Robert B. Hubbel #Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter #4th of July #Independence Day #Student Debt #SCOTUS #racism #the USA Founders

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afeelgoodblog · 10 days

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The Best News of Last Week

1. A branch of the flu family tree has died and won't be included in future US vaccines

A type of flu virus that used to sicken people every year hasn't been spotted anywhere on Earth since March 2020. As such, experts have advised that the apparently extinct viruses be removed from next year's flu vaccines.

The now-extinct viruses were a branch of the influenza B family tree known as the Yamagata lineage. Scientists first reported the apparent disappearance of Yamagata viruses in 2021.

2. Hospitals must obtain written consent for pelvic and similar exams, the federal government says

Hospitals must obtain written informed consent from patients before subjecting them to pelvic exams and exams of other sensitive areas — especially if an exam will be done while the patient is unconscious, the federal government said Monday.

New guidance from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services now requires consent for breast, pelvic, prostate and rectal exams for “educational and training purposes” performed by medical students, nurse practitioners or physician assistants.

3. Germany approves new law that will allow adults to carry up to 25 grams of cannabis for their own consumption and store up to 50 grams at home.

Germany's upper house, the Bundesrat, cleared the way to partially legalize cannabis on Friday. Adults aged 18 and over will be allowed to carry up to 25 grams of cannabis for their own consumption.

4. Tick-killing pill shows promising results in human trial | Should it pan out, the pill would be a new weapon against Lyme disease.

Tarsus Pharmaceuticals is developing a pill for humans that could provide protection against the tick-borne disease for several weeks at a time. In February, the Irvine, California–based biotech company announced results from a small, early-stage trial showing that 24 hours after taking the drug, it can kill ticks on people, with the effects lasting for up to 30 days.

5. Thailand moves to legalise same-sex marriage

Thailand has taken a historic step closer to marriage equality after the lower house passed a bill giving legal recognition to same-sex marriage.

It still needs approval from the Senate and royal endorsement to become law but it is widely expected to happen by the end of 2024, making Thailand the only South East Asian country to recognise same-sex unions.

6. French Revolution: Cyclists Now Outnumber Motorists In Paris

Official measurements have found that Paris is rapidly becoming a city of transportation cyclists. In the suburbs, where public transit is less dense, transport by car was found to be the main form of mobility. But for journeys from the outskirts of Paris to the center, the number of cyclists now far exceeds the number of motorists, a huge change from just five years ago.

7. 'Miracle' operation reverses blindness in three-year-old girl giving her 'promising' future

A three year old with a genetic condition that causes blindness is doing incredibly well after unique pioneering operation to restore her sight.

The UK is the only country performing keyhole eye surgery to inject healthy copies of a gene into sufferers’ eyes. It is being used to reverse blindness in children born with a rare condition which means they can only distinguish between light and dark. And it has given little Khadijah Chaudhry, born with Leber congenital amaurosis-4, a chance at seeing properly again.

---

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation here:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

#best news of last week

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dumbsoftheart · 4 months

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pas de deux

pairing: ballerina!reader x university!coriolanus snow

tags: 18+, mdni. dub-con, semi-public sex, oral sex (fem receiving), creampie, vaginal sex, dirty talk, power play, manipulation

summary: corio is tasked with writing an exposé on his university’s prized ballet student for the school’s newsletter.

notes: self indulging on my perfectionism being ruined for coryo’s self-pleasure!

word count: 4.9k

౨ׅৎ

coriolanus hated this assignment with the same fervour and passion he hated writing for his school’s publication. the only reason he’d even applied for the position was because he knew of the ways it would put him on the scene- articles and reviews with his name plastered over them were unavoidable to anyone who had half a brain to engage in thoughtful composition. he enjoyed writing critical pieces on political discourse or literature, anything that challenged him to peel back the layers of society and dissect it, persuade others to align with his mode of thinking, so the mere thought of his byline etched onto an article about ballet- of all things- made him want to curl up and die. he tried oh so desperately to pass on the assignment to one of his female partners, and even tried his hand at requesting his supervisor for a new assignment entirely, but he was coldly dismissed and cast away to the hallowed halls of the university's dance studio. he didn't notice how frustrated he’d actually felt until he flinched behind the sound of the studio door slamming behind him, clashing uglily with the buzzing noise of music that flooded his eardrums. it was unnecessarily loud, but he knew you could hear him enter. his jaw clenched the more you ignored his presence.

instead, you focused on the strains of music you’d become uncomfortably accustomed to. the melodic rhythm of the cantilena you choreographed to consumed your body in a symphony of music. each note was dictated thoughtfully with the graceful movements you now begrudgingly danced for the stranger, weaving a story that transcended words, one only understood through the language of dance. as you traversed the space, your movements harmonised seamlessly with the refined tune, a testament to the years of dedication and passion you poured into this art form. you grew frustrated at the way his presence clashed discordantly against the elegance of your dancing and disrupted the harmony of the room. you watched in the corner of your eye how he marched his way to the centre of the room, lingering only a few steps behind you as you danced. you caught him clear his throat one, two, then three times. it grated against your patience, forcing you to stop dancing abruptly and march past him with the same conviction as he did to shut off the music, a huff escaping your lips at the sudden quiet as you stared expectantly at the tall boy before you. you watched his fists clench and then flex before he turned to face you, his pearly blond hair falling ever so slightly out of place from the speed at which he’d turned on his heel.

"can i help you?" the words slipped from your lips, delivered with a flatness that barely concealed the tinge of annoyance behind it. your hand found its place resting on your hip, a subtle gesture reinforcing your composed stance, determined to maintain an air of indifference.

“coriolanus snow. i’ve been assigned to write a review on you and your dancing for the university newsletter,” his introduction sounded pompous, as though he assumed you already knew of his identity. of course, you knew the name very well- his reputation preceded him. you couldnt deny that you too had once or twice been privy to the occasional swooning over the quite popular boy, but you found that now as he stood in front of you, tall and beautiful as he was, you felt a growing discontent for the man and his obnoxiously bright hair. yet, you clung fiercely to the facade of ignorance, a guise of disinterest veiling the curiosity that lingered beneath the surface. you held your head high, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of acknowledging his perceived importance in your realm of artistry.

you pretended to think before a moment, before turning back to the speaker and switching the sound back on, gesturing for him to sit. you rolled your eyes at his request to turn the volume down. despite you hating everything that had to do with this review, you were aware of the potential impact this coverage had on your burgeoning career. you acquiesced, lowering the volume to appease his demand, a concession made not out of respect for the boy but rather with your future in mind. you knew the power coriolanus held with his words, as much as you hated it, and you knew you couldn't risk jeopardising your future at the sake of a little attitude.

so, with an inward sigh and a curt nod, you allowed him to observe. you positioned yourself within the room as you waited to pick up on the rhythm of the music where you left off, quickly finding your place among the complexities of the song in a manner that seemed impossible had it not been for your tireless work and memorization of every single note and harmony of the song.

as snow observed your movements, he jotted down comments in a small leatherbound notebook, his pen scrawling his disdain. "lacks depth," he muttered under his breath, pausing to look up pensively at your figure.

the comment caught you so off guard it took every bit of strength in you to not fall with the abruptness at which you stopped. lacks depth? what the hell would he know? you felt rage burn inside your chest, only fueled by the way he stared at you as if he had said nothing wrong.

“what about my dance lacks depth, snow?” the question hung in the air, and you watched his adams apple bob up and down through the mirror as he swallowed, glancing briefly at his notes before looking back up at you.

"the dance is fine, quite beautiful, i might say, but your movements lack the emotional vibrancy expected from a performance of this calibre," he responded, "there's an absence of connection, it feels superficial and fails to convey the intended depth of expression."

he spoke with a measured confidence, and you scrunched your brows at his words. you didnt expect him to know the first thing about ballet, and you still stood by that sentiment, but part of you wondered if he was speaking truthfully- a consequence of the sensitivity you harbour in relation to your artistry. dance was everything, and while ballet trained you to accustom yourself to harsh criticism, you always held those criticisms to your heart, and it pushed you to always do better than you had before.

despite this, your shoulders never slumped, nor did you show any physical acknowledgement to his critique, only moving to turn your gaze from his cobalt eyes in the mirror to look him in them truly, strutting your way back to the speaker and restarting the song, determined to prove him wrong.

“you restart the song when you feel i’m ‘lacking depth’, so i can know whether or not to call bullshit.”

the two of you went at it for a while. he only gave you a few seconds at first before he continuously restarted the song, but you danced for him nonetheless. over, and over again. when you thought you’d finally caught him, he’d restart the song a few seconds later, and it took everything in you to not scream in frustration at the top of your lungs. you wanted to strangle him, in truth, especially when you caught a glance at his smirk the 12th time he’d restarted the music.

it was nearly midnight by the time he’d given you some respite, and you made no effort to be hospitable as you collected your things and stormed out the door without a word. you pretended to ignore the scribbles on his notebook as you rushed passed him, unable to make sense of the haphazard writing. you hated him. the way he seemed to try seize control of your creative space and your studio made you go mad. additionally, you were convinced he was only trying to get under your skin, and you hated that it worked- even if you refused to show it (or more appropriately, tried not to show it, because coriolanus reveled in the fact that he did, in fact, get under your skin).

coriolanus, on the other hand, walked out of the studio feeling quite prideful. he adored the effect he had on you: how despite his ignorance on your mastered art, he absorbed the control in the room. he adored seeing you struggle to keep up to his standards, watching your face twist with effort as you danced over and over again, all for him. watching the muscles of your shoulders and legs flex, the arches of your back and neck, the way you exposed yourself to him repeatedly- it festered a strange desire in him to tear you apart. you were so meticulous with how you danced that it made you look fragile. with every twist and turn of your body coriolanus felt his breath catch in his throat as if he were afraid if you moved slightly too much, you would shatter. only, he wanted to be the one to break you: tear away that meticulousness and precision built into you and mould it in a way that was perfectly suited for him. he wanted to dismantle that untouchable image you carried, strip you away of your elegance and create a dependence that would tether you to him alone. it made him care about your performance more than he wanted to admit. not because he cared for you, per se, and your success, but because he’d developed a carnal urge to shape you into perfection solely for his own satisfaction. knowing that onstage, your dance was now catered just for him, to his own liking? the thought made coriolanus’s pants grow tight with lust.

the week progressed following the same routine: he would sit and watch you overwork yourself at his beck and call until your eyes filled with tears of anger and your body would give out and he’d leave you panting on the dance room floor, killing yourself until you got it just right. the boy was acutely aware of the mental struggles that accompanied ballet- the pursuit of perfection, the strive for excellence, the intensity of the competition and the pressure to excel. he knew how hardly you critiqued yourself and used it to his advantage; knowing if he played his cards right, soon enough he’d have you wrapped around his finger, begging him for that validation you needed to keep going.

your performance was on saturday, and the way you worked yourself over the dreadful symphony of music had you lacking sleep. you couldn’t stop- even after you and coriolanus parted ways. you found yourself practising in your dorm room, counting steps on your way to class- you knew deep down that coriolanus’s article really meant nothing, as the man knew nothing about what he asked of you, and your success wasn’t at all tied to his review; but you were unable to stop. a voice nagged at you that it did matter. that somehow his influence could ruin you and everything you’d worked for. you knew how badly he was getting to you when the two of you crossed paths on your way to class.

he took in the sight of you: your hair done perfectly, not a single hair misplaced, your pink tights and leotard, the pink cover-up skirt you adorned neatly wrapped around your waist with a perfect bow. he took in your lips, swollen and red from the anxious biting you’d fallen into the habit of doing again, the way you messily tried to cover up your dark under eyes with concealer and draw attention away from it with haphazards amount of blush. in passing, you’d simply given him a nod, but he was quick to grab you, looping his finger under your chin and forcing you to stare into those piercing cobalt eyes of his as he studied you.

“you should wear white instead. pink washes you out,” he mumbled to you before turning away, his tall figure disappearing into one of the lecture halls behind you. had it been a few days prior, you would’ve found it in you to bite back. only now, you bit at your manicured fingernails as you dragged your fingers across the silky white pointe shoes in your favourite dancewear boutique, followed by the white leotard and tights you brought home with you that night.

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“i need a break,” you sighed. it was the night before your performance, and only now did coryo have the decency to step back for a moment in his unrelenting pursuit of perfecting you. he nodded, shutting off the music as he watched you saunter towards your dance bag, downing half the contents of your water bottle with short pants. he stood to meet you, making his way behind you and resting his slender fingers on your tense shoulders.

“whats bothering you, bunny?” the pet name sent a small shiver down your spine, and coriolanus threw his head back slightly at the feeling of you shudder, gathering all his strength to contain himself. you turned to face him, and he felt his dick harden at the vulnerability in your eyes. the fire that once burned behind them was fizzling, and he could tell. your mouth was parted as you searched for the right thing to say, but the words caught in your throat.

“is it the dance?” he pressed, his face now dangerously close to yours, and you croaked out a small yes as his hand made its way up to your hair, his thumb stroking it gently, “you know it’s perfect, darling, you and i have been making it perfect all week long, no? show me which part is bothering you.”

your head spun as he spoke to you- his fingers stroking your hair, the way his voice was now all of a sudden so soft; contrary to the stern way he’d spoken to you all week. but what really dizzied you was the sudden validation he’d given you. the casual way he threw it at you; as if it was what was known all along, as if you were crazy to think otherwise.

you stumbled back towards the centre of the room, slowly positioning yourself as you waited for his go-ahead, form snapping into movement as soon as the music filled your ears. you watched in the mirror as coriolanus paced behind you, his chin in his hand as he watched you and pondered. your eyes closed with focus, moving with such ease that it felt second nature to you. then, the music seized, and you froze in place as you raised your head to look up at the man now in front of you.

“you’re too tense,” he murmured, moving to press his hands into the soft skin of your shoulders, massaging the strained muscle gently. it did nothing at getting you to relax. inside, you were fuming as you replayed the past week in your head. you’d worked yourself dry all for the approval of a man whose opinion you couldn’t care less about. you let your guard down for a sliver of a moment and he used it to get inside your head. you hated him with every fibre in your being, and his breathing down your neck only fueled the fire burning inside of you.

“get off of me.”

“just relax.” the way he whispered it was short of anything kind, spat at you with annoyance as he tightened his grip on you.

“i said get off!” it was the loudest you’d spoken all day. it was barely a shout, but it was enough for the man to recoil from behind you. you breathed shakily, hands trembling at your side. when you turned to face him, you nearly flinched at the sight of him. his usually perfectly combed back hair was now a mess, curls fallen out of place as he ran his hand through the golden strands harshly. you both stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, panting heavily, waiting for the other to say or do anything to loosen the tension that filled the studio air.

he looked down at the floor for a second, tonguing his cheek with a smile before surging forward, crashing his chapped lips into your plump, soft ones with a groan. you tried to push him away, but his grip on your face was too strong- and you couldn’t ignore the way your legs turned to jelly from the way he kissed you with an undying hunger. one hand made its way down your waist as he moved you backwards into the large studio mirror, your head thumping painfully against the glass, pain mixing with pleasure as coryo attacked your lips and dragged his hands all over your body, savouring the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your garments.

“so good for me,” he groaned against your neck, the hot breath of his words sending shivers straight down to your core, “so perfect.. so pliable.. all for me. isnt that right, princess?”

it was truly embarrassing, the way his words made you moan softly and rub your thighs together with want. embarrassing how compliant you’d become for him, how eager you were to please him. he took notice of the pathetic state you were in, watching with glossy and swollen lips how your legs trembled and your hips stuttered in a desperate attempt to gain friction against your growing heat.

“look at that, so fucking precious,” he continued to watch you struggle, laughing softly to himself before snaking his hand between your thighs, cupping your cunt and slowly encouraging you to rock your hips back and forth. you whined at the contact, relief and pleasure swarming you as you ground yourself into the palm of his hand, gripping tightly onto the curls at the back of his head for leverage. lost in bliss, you barely noticed when the man made his way down to his knees, lip bitten so hard you swore you could smell the metallic scent of blood peer through your senses as he toyed his fingers across your clothed cunt. you moved to remove your small skirt, untying the meticulous bow around your waist and tossing it to the side. when your hand reached to remove your leotard, coriolanus removed his hand with a small chuckle.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he tutted, and you whined at the sight of him below you, willing and able to keep pleasuring you but withholding that power. you scrunched your brows together with confusion, and coriolanus thought you’d never looked so beautiful: face flushed with heat, writhing above him while your hips urged for his fingers to touch you again. too lost in the pleasure that lingered, head thrashing from side to side with pleads to keep going- he wanted to ruin you.

“good girls wait and do what they’re told. are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he chuckled at the way you shook your head aggressively, savouring your small moans as he returned his hand to where you wanted it most. a loud gasp escaped your lips when he ripped your tights viciously, the soft torn fabric now giving him better access to the skin of your thighs. he splayed his hands over them, massaging your muscles and soft tissue before pulling your leotard to the side and diving his tongue into the wetness of your folds.

he pulled back with a moan, gasping as he peered down at the mixture of his spit and your slick connecting your cunt to his chin, and he looked up at you like you were a god, sticky and wet from the most trivial of touches.

“you’re so wet for me, princess- such a good girl. you’re so good for me,” you couldn't get a word out before he took a long swipe with the flat of his tongue, lapping messily and so, so loudly- chasing the taste of you. he loved teasing you with his mouth. he thought about it that day, unashamed as he jerked his cock into nothingness when he caught sight of you on campus earlier that day, dressed all in white- just for him. the small gesture was enough confirmation to him that he’d won at the game you two were playing, that you let him break you into submission and you were now his to claim. the thought of taking ownership of you by reducing you to nothingness with his tongue alone had him cumming onto his stomach with a loud, broken cry. now, he had you right where he wanted- and he wasn’t going to let that pass just yet.

he relished every sound and movement you made when he flicked his tongue up and down your lips, relished the tears that fell when he slowly circled it around your swollen clit, rejoiced in the way you gripped his curls tighter when he tongued your hole, gazing up at your already fucked out faced with pure lust and admiration when you came undone and released yourself into his mouth. he continued to lap and suck every moan and whine out of you until you cried with overstimulation. he stood up, licking his lips and stared down at you like a predator who’d hunted its prey.

“you did so good for me, bunny,” he mewled, kissing your neck softly as you came down from your high. you had started to gain back your senses, and a wave of humiliation washed over you. the man you claimed to hate had just given you the best orgasm of your life, and suddenly you could no longer find it in you to hate him again. every fibre in your body ached when he praised you, called you good and cooed in your ear as you regained your strength. you continued to cry, no longer out of pleasure but in self-disappointment. you felt the urge to scream and lash out at him for robbing you of your senses, for reducing you to a state where the tiniest shred of approval clouded every bit your perspectives until you couldn’t figure out left from right. he continued to coo in your ear as you sobbed, but your eyes widened with fear when you heard the small sound of a zipper and looked down to see his cock in his hands, pumping slowly as he made his way into you.

he shushed every one of your protests, his lips pressed tight against your collarbone as you tried to push away from him when his tip made contact with your hole, “be good, bunny, be good for me,” he chanted into your skin and your body broke down into more sobs as you willingly let him push into you. alarms were blaring in your head for you to stop giving into him, but your body was unrelenting and begging with want- and so all you did was cry as he thrust slowly into you, small moans of praise nonsensically falling from his lips as your cunt struggled to take all of him in.

the way he mumbled his sweet words into your neck and the slow stretch of his cock prying you open had your brain short-circuiting, the sweet tone of his voice once again making you lose all sense of what was unfolding before you. you winced as he tried to thrust his length deeper into you.

coriolanus didn’t like that. he took the sounds of complaint as direct disobedience. he wanted to hear nothing but your begging- he wanted you to thank him for letting you have his cock, and hear nothing but your loud moans and pathetic mewls as he fucked you. he grabbed at your bun, yanking your head back with such force that the once perfectly smoothed back hair came undone painfully, strands falling to your face and wisping at your shoulders.

“does it hurt?” he asked, and for a moment you thought he was trying to take you with care, but when you nodded and his grip tightened on your hair, you knew you were oh so wrong, “i thought i told you to be a good, fucking. girl.”

he thrusted into you harshly with each word and you cried out in pain, his cock stretching you out far beyond what you could handle, overstimulation making your knees buckle and tears fall from your eyes again.

“thats it, baby. take it, be a good girl and take my cock.”

your fingers dug into his back and coriolanus let out a loud, lewd moan, unable to peel his eyes away from the sight of his cock thrusting without preamble into the slick mess of your cunt. he threw his head back as you moaned through your cries, and thrusted even harder when you wrapped a leg around him to let him fuck you even deeper.

he moved to rip off the top of your leotard, licking his lips hungrily as he watched your tits fall and bounce in tandem with his thrusts. he dove his head down, latching his lips onto your hardened nipple and sucking harshly, nipping and biting the soft flesh while his hand pinched and flicked at the other one.

you were incoherent. your stop’s had turned into more’s and your sobs turned into that of pure desire. you threw your head to the side and gasped at the spectacle the two of you were making of yourselves in the middle of the dance studio. the mirror you were pressed up against had begun to fog up along the silhouette of your body pressed up against it, the cool glass dripping condensation onto your back and through your ruined clothes as coryo fucked you into oblivion. he looked right at you now, his fingers making their way to lace into yours as he pressed you even closer to him, your arms now bound against the coolness of the mirror.

“fuck, princess, you’re so fucking tight. so tight for me, yeah? gonna make this pussy mine,” your head spun with his words and the constant pumping of his cock, unable to contain the obscene sounds you let out. you were so close, and the way you tightened around him as you chased your release almost had him cumming prematurely.

“you gonna let me make you mine, huh bunny?”

“fuck, yes!”

“s’at right? gonna let me claim you? such a good girl.”

you moved your hips against his with no rhythm, simply in pursuit of the orgasm that coiled in the pit of your stomach. you kept your eyes on his, your mouth open with pants as you urged him to keep going. he hiked one hand behind the knee you had wrapped around him, the other one pulling you up so you were off the ground, letting him fuck you in a way that hit all the right spots in all the right places, and you just about lost it right there.

he smiled, “you like that?”

“uh-huh..”

“you want me to keep going?”

“please- please dont stop, coryo, please!”

his cries got louder, moans twisting up into a slightly higher octave, his face scrunched with pleasure as your cunt clenched around him with each of his words.

“gonna fill you up with my cum, baby. is that what you want? for me to breed you?” he babbled, voice trembling, “gonna fuck you full of cum ‘n make you mine. no one else can have you.” his voice got weaker as his hips pivoted upwards to thrust even deeper. he was in complete in control of you; his elbows hooked beneath your knees and opening a new gateway to your soul.

“naughty fucking girl, huh? ‘s alright, good girls get to be naughty sometimes..”

“i’m gonna cum,” you whined pathetically, rambling over and over as it was the only thing you could think of. you were so close, and each word he groaned at you brought you infinitely closer.

“you wanna cum?”

“i want- i want it so bad.”

“s’at right?”

“please, coryo- god, please! ‘m gonna be good for you. so good for you, daddy—”

your words collapsed into meaningless cries and shattered sentences— fuckyesyesyes— and cumonmycockbaby— as you worked each other towards release. you pulled him deeper to your center, tightening around him as the coil in your stomach finally burst and you saw white. you both came with a loud moan, yours no doubt shattering through the walls of the confined space, and coriolanus released his load into you with a long, droned out fuuuuuck as he slowly pumped his cum into you, mesmerised by the way it mixed and swirled with the mess of your own release. you whined at the overstimulation, body still jerking from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but coriolanus only felt himself grow harder.

“coryo, i cant..”

he snapped up at you, gaze softening as he took in your tear stained and fucked out face. he took your face in one hand, squeezing your jaw tightly and admiring the slight cross-eyed look you had on and the dribble of spit falling from your perfect lips. he cocked his head to the side, smiling coyly.

“oh, bunny, you don’t have a choice..”

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@dumbsoftheart, 2023

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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