#ten years. unless they're. a lawyer.

[leatherbookmark]

thhhhhe thing with nmjthecopthediscourseconversation is that it kind of is the same thing as lwjthecop -> lansthecops -> cultivatorsthecops discourse which is basically. "this character is characterized (uh huh) by traits X and Y, which are commonly associated with Modern Thing A, therefore it's safe to assume this character would be Modern Thing A if they were, hypothetically, transported to the Modern Times"

and like! i do understand. people have a thing for using bags and shortcuts. rather than pencils, pens, and markers, i'm gonna take my pencil case; rather than a character who strongly believes in rules and is convinced enforcing them as strictly as possible is the key to a just society, i'm gonna say a "cop", like, that's shorter. but at this point it's taking "a group of things X" and calling it "the thing that's (in our social circles) universally considered Bad", and people who like the character that possesses the group of things X Are Not Going To Like It Probably.

(this is both nmjthecop and edtheabuser and probably many other things.)

i do (think) i understand what's going on here! but

a) as fun as a modern au thought experiment is, it's ultimately kind of futile in this case because "feudal lords with superpowers" are fictional character we're able to sympathize with even if they do ~bad things~; once you make them into, i don't know, millionaires or cops, they... naturally and obviously stop being sympathetic, right, and

b) professions aren't... personality test results? this is one of the reasons why i was such a hater of the ideal modern professions polls, it's not a 1:1 thing, it doesn't work this way. oh this person is X and Y and Z, they would be a perfect lawyer! uh oh, but they're ten years into their career as a florist. and especially in a story like mdzs that's about a specific setting with specific rules, it's--it's not going to make sense! how on earth are wwx the engineer, nhs the influencer and lwj the musician going to meet and hang out naturally and then have reasons to keep on hanging out? unless we're doing a dream coffeeshop au where everyone's stupid passionate about pastries, it's not going to work. either no one's a cop/florist/tormented grad student or everyone is. i think.

[bemusedlybespectacled]

I posted 5,941 times in 2022

That's 3,533 more posts than 2021!

300 posts created (5%)

5,641 posts reblogged (95%)

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I tagged 1,460 of my posts in 2022

#our flag means death - 383 posts

#personal - 235 posts

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Longest Tag: 138 characters

#my religious affiliation is 'nothing unless we're discussing different denominations of christianity at which point i am catholic on main'

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

honestly, I'm okay with spending money to get rid of ads my ad-blocker normally can, and I appreciate @staff giving us this option instead of making it a patreon clone. I pay for a subscription to Reddit and TVTropes and Dropout because I can afford it and I like to support websites I want to stay active. I'm actually even more willing to spend that money on Tumblr.

7,753 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

#4

okay I know the popular conception of stede and lucius' relationship is a father/son thing but like, okay, I get it, and I'm here for it, but I also don't get that vibe at all.

like, I don't think lucius admires/looks up to stede in a parental way. he likes stede, he's supportive of stede, but personally I wouldn't call my dad a bizarre little man or ask him how his breakup is going. like, that's way too informal. that's more a relationship of equals than anything else.

nope. I think their relationship is actually elder gay/baby gay (in the sense of experience rather than chronological age). lucius has been out for years, he has a lot of experience in relationships, he is way more able to read relationships (e.g. knowing that ed and stede are flirting before they even realize they're flirting), and because of that he is extremely well equipped to give advice about navigating queerness.

stede, on the other hand, has just barely started to dip his toes in the gay pool. like regardless if you go with the theory that stede didn't even realize he was gay until he met ed or that he knew for years but couldn't acknowledge it openly until he met ed, stede has zero practical experience. he is, in his forties, experiencing a bunch of "firsts" that lucius probably did in his teens or early twenties. the entire emotional landscape is foreign to him (and I was going to make a joke about how pirating is also foreign to him but then I started thinking about how piracy in this show is a metaphor for queerness and that's a whole second essay)

basically I think lucius spent the first however-many weeks on board the revenge being like "oh my god this guy is a naive idiot but at least he's paying me," and then he heard nigel badminton joking about how he used to bully stede in school and his gaydar went off like mad, and at that moment his attitude changed to "someone needs to protect this naive gay idiot and that person is me" and that's where it is for the rest of the season.

9,160 notes - Posted April 14, 2022

#3

the best part is they politely gave alex jones’s lawyer the opportunity to fix their mistake and they DIDN’T DO IT. smh shaking my head

TEN DAYS. THEY HAD TEN FUCKING DAYS. AND THEY DIDN'T DO SHIT. AND THEN THEY HAD A CHANCE TO LOOK AT THE TEXTS AND OBJECT BEFORE THEY WERE ENTERED INTO EVIDENCE AND THEY DIDN'T. the unmitigated GLEE in bankston's voice when he's like "and as of two days ago, it fell free and clear into my possession, and that is how I know you LIED TO ME" is just fucking awe-inspiring. i love this man.

9,412 notes - Posted August 3, 2022

#2

i feel like every activist should read about fruitlands.

fruitlands was a transcendentalist utopian commune founded in the 1840s. the founders (including louisa may alcott's dad) thought that the existing capitalist economy was evil: alcott described it as a tree “whose root is selfishness, whose trunk is property, whose fruit is gold." so they decided to create a commune that was completely divorced from the economy. like, their response to the "you say you're against capitalism but still participate in it! checkmate socialists!" people was literally "you're right, let's not!"

they refused to consume any materials or foods that couldn't be locally grown, like tea or sugar. they were also highkey vegan: not only was it immoral to eat animal products and use animals for leather and wool, but using animal labor or even using manure as fertilizer was forbidden. and they refused to trade for anything they didn't have within the commune because participation in an oppressive economy was bad, especially if it supported slave labor (ex: wearing cotton fabric).

it fell apart in less than a year because they didn't have enough food to survive the winter.

why?

well, part of it was circumstantial: the site they picked had little arable land and they arrived a month behind in the planting schedule. part of it was the impracticality of living in the 1840s and being so vegan that they couldn't even use oxen to plough their fields or wear clothes that were warm in cold weather.

but the main reason was that the men of the commune (and they were almost all men, except for alcott's wife and another woman, ann page) didn't actually, like, do anything. they left all the household chores and childcare to the women, plus most of the farm work, while they sat around and philosophized about how cool their utopia was. even before it fell apart, most people there had began taking "vacations" away from fruitlands so that they could take hot baths and avoid trying to till the soil with their bare hands.

there are a lot of good lessons here.

1. it's very easy to talk about your great ideas for society but putting them into practice is much harder. you have to actually do the work to achieve the goal: you can't shunt it off onto other people based on the same oppressive systems you're trying to subvert.

2. you need to consider the practical implications of what you're arguing for, including potential downsides. banning wool for ethical reasons is all well and good until you're stuck wearing linen clothes and canvas shoes in the middle of a massachusetts winter.

3. you can't expect that a utopia is going to be all the things you like about society staying the same and everything you dislike being changed. that is at best naïve and at worst intensely selfish.

tl;dr: talk is cheap, praxis is hard.

20,261 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I already knew a lot of criticisms about cryptocurrency and NFTs but HOLY SHIT Dan Olson just spent two hours very carefully and viciously picking apart every single aspect of the entire operation and explaining exactly why it's capitalism at its worst and is basically a perfect scam machine

23,874 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

[The state] got him in the satchel for fixing cases and grabbing a bunch of cash. I always knew [the state attorney] would grab a hot stove if he thought he could get away with it. Hell, they're all a lot of grafters. They're even worse than we are. At least, we don't make out we're any better than anybody else, and we don't get paid for upholding the laws, like those guys. And the stinking bastards send the likes of me and you to prison while they're out there grabbing off more dough than we'll ever see in our lives!"

"Well, what of it?" says a third. "Wouldn't you rather have 'em like that? Didn't you ever kick in with a few bucks to save yourself from going to the can [prison]? If those guys were honest, you and me'd be spending all our time in places like this. Good luck to 'em, I say. Let 'em grab all they can get. It's all o.k. with me. Society? Damn society! What did society ever do for me? Any time I get pinched, and there's a crooked cop, or district attorney, or judge that will put me on the street for a few bucks, believe me, I'm tickled to death to kick in with it."

"That's all right," says a fourth. "If it only costs a few bucks to square up a case, I wouldn't mind. But Jesus Christ! Those guys don't talk any numbers that I can get my dukes on; all they talk is box-car numbers. Nobody but Al Capone, or some of those guys, can afford to kick in with that kind of dough. And then, somebody's got to go to prison, or those judges couldn't hold down their jobs. And we're the poor slobs that hit the big house you and me are the suckers."

"Yeah," says Number Five. "They're all out for the old do-ray-me. Steal a million and you'll never hit the can. But get a pinch when you haven't got fall money, and have to take one of them cop-a-plea lawyers the court hands you, and where do you get off? Look at me, with a sawbuck to do, and them Page and Shaw swindlers (they had plenty of dough) get off with a lousy couple of years down the Island. Guys like that get away with murder; and the same judge that gave them the deuce handed young Sobrowski thirty-five to forty! And the chump kid's only nineteen years old. He'll be a lot of good to anybody by the time he's packed that bit away!"

"And what the hell do they know about prisons, anyhow?" asks Number Six. "Most of 'em never even saw the inside of one. They don't even know what one looks like, let alone what it feels like to pack away five or ten years in the can. They ought to make every one of the lousy crumbs do a six-month bit before they go on the bench. Then maybe they wouldn't be so goddam free with the years they hand out. And the likes of those guys guys like this So-and-So, and district attorneys like Tufts and Pelletier, and cops like this Garrett, and all those guys they're sup- posed to be guys for us to look up to and copy! Every other one of the bastards is a cheap grafter. And then they expect the likes of us to be honest!"

"Sure," says Number Eight. "It's the same everywhere. Look at the prison officials, especially the guards. They're mostly a lot of bums that happened to have a friend with a little political pull. Most of them never had any education or anything. They never had to go out and earn their living, they'd starve to death, unless they happened to find jobs cleaning cuspidors, or something like that. Take that big stiff of a Gledron that was on in my wing last night. A couple of guys happened to be talking after lights out. Now you wouldn't mind if he'd go down there and tell them in a half-civilized way to stop the racket. But what does he do? He goes down there and don't even know who was making the noise. He just stops at the first cell he happens to think is near it and starts to bark and snarl at some guy that was minding his own business. And when the guy tries to tell him that he wasn't talking, So-and-So yells at him, 'Don't shoot off your mouth to me, or I'll run you down to the cooler and let you try some bread and water!' The dirty, lousy little bastard. He goes down there and gets tough with a guy he wouldn't even dare to look at if he was outside, where the guy had an even chance with him. He acts like a tough guy, in here, and he knows goddam well that almost any man in the place could knock his ears off in a fair fight. I hate a guy like that. Guys like him and there are plenty of them here know that they're only a lot of tripe. They know we had more dough, and everything else, when we were out, than they'll ever have, and it burns them up; and they take out their spite on any poor slob that happens to get into a little jam in here."

- Victor F. Nelson, Prison Days and Nights. Second edition. With an introduction by Abraham Myerson, M.D. Garden City: Garden City Publishing Co., 1936. p. 22-25

[slutfornat]

My Doll // P.7

Series Masterlist: here

Main Masterlist: here

Y/n's POV:

It's been months since everyone came back after the blip and I'm worried about bucky. Bucky's been having consist nightmares and we don't even share a room anymore as he's convinced that he keeps waking me up.

That was two months ago; we broke up three weeks later. I've tried moving on and even tried contact with an old partner but they're in a new relationship and I figured it's best to just stay as friends.

Bucky doesn't talk to me ever now. Last I heard he was going therapy, was friends with a guy called yori, who keeps trying to set him up on dates for the past month and some of which bucky ends up going on apparently.

I talked to Sam, earlier today after he handed the shield over but over than that I've been staying to my work then talking with pepper, happy and morgan on the weekends.

I'm sitting in my room, watching TV when I turn over to the news to see an announcement that they have found a new captain america.

I listen through the entire thing before it ends and I turn my tv off before checking it's not to late to go and threaten a lawsuit. Realising its only 19:47pm, I go and change back into today's outfit.

It's a black suit but instead of a normal t-shirt or anything, underneath is a bra that covers my chest but still looks like one of the most gen z looking things from in my wardrobe.

Another thing you should know, I quit S.W.O.R.D after having to watch a close friend have everything taken from her so she could help a bunch of people that hate her.

Also I own stark industries as pepper just wants to be there for morgan as hse is still young and it must he hard on her. It is officially open again in six weeks.

Driving there, I basically storm inside before going straight to his office. We are both sitting with four other people in the room, who I happen to notice are all white.

"Miss Stark, we have a right to have a new and improved captain america" he begins. "You have no right to storm in here, acting as if you, a child, is in charge."

"Firstly, I'm 21 as of July 17th 2023. Secondly, I know my rights and if I have a proposition for you then yes, I'm welcome" I argued back.

"All I was going to do was make a few modifications to the shield like this here" I continue before pressing a button on the side of my watch which is how I activate the shield I've made.

I stand up just as the shield shows itself to the pathetic excuse of a president. I go on "This beauty has been in every fight with me since 2012 but continues to evolve more so than any human including you and your 17th century views."

"I am not old-fashioned, I jus-" he tries but I cut him off. "You just don't believe in equal rights? Have you noticed I'm the only woman in this room or that everyone including myself is white."

"Unless you would like a major lawsuit against you and everyone that works for you, I suggest you hand over that shield to either me or Mr Sam Wilson" I say as my shield goea back into the watch.

He stands up, trying to act like he's in charge and shouts "I will not hand it over to some child, who thinks the world owes them everything."

"You know, you people seem to always forget what happened when I was kidnapped" I say, "Hydra experiment on me and therefore I have powers worse than the winter soldier's".

"Are you threatening us?" one of the people in the room ask and I answer "no, only a lawsuit, that in the end I'll win."

I stand up, "it's either give the shied to Stark industries or Sam Wilson, your choice?"

"I'll never hand it over, that's final. Wilson handed over captain america's shield" he says, sitting down once more.

"Whilst under the impression, it was to be in a museum as a historical artifact not that it would be a symbol of america's current racism and misogyny" I point out.

Before walking out, I say "this is war and something you should know, I always win."

I leave, already planning on contacting my lawyer tomorrow. Whilst walking to my car, I bump into someone and as I look, I see bucky barnes; the one person I don't wanna see right now.

"y/n, what are you doing here?" he asks. Answering truthfully, I say "I have a lawsuit against the president because of his blatant racism towards Sam and believing that a 21 year old woman is a child despite staring at my breasts for most of the thing."

"Yikes" he says. I nod, saying "Exactly and now I have to deal with another lawsuit". Laughing slightly, buck jokes "well at least you're likely to have experience with this kind of thing."

"In my defence, I won all four of them" I say, laughing a bit, "why are you here then?"

"I was on a date but left after ten minutes" he answered, "I had to go somewhere". "ooh so mysterious but seriously how have you moved on so fast" I ask, curiously.

"no, a friend asked her out for me because I wasn't in the mood" bucky explained. "So, barnes, feel like getting a drink then?" I asked, knowing it might distract both of us.

Grinning slightly, he says "sure but as I can only get tipsy at the most, I'm driving. Now where's your car for when I end up dropping you off at your place?"

Two hours later, the two of us are laughing madly whilst drinking but he finally says "well, I'm sure you have a busy day tomorrow so let's drop you off, okay?"

I nod but as I get up, I nearly trip over my feat which causes me to giggle hysterically in bucky's arm. "come on, doll. M' gonna take you home now, okay?" bucky says as we walk or in my case stumble out of the bar.

After putting me in the car, bucky drives us to my apartment. Him already knowing the address as I moved in whilst we were dating.

Taking the keys from me, he carries me up to my bedroom and puts me in my bed. "I'm gonna make you a cup of tea while you change, alright?" he said.

"But I don't wanna change" I mumble into my pillow. "Doll..." james said sternly, "come on, you need to get ready for bed".

I nod and when he leaves the room, I change quickly into a large t-shirt and some pajamas shorts. I manage to sit up in bed by the time, bucky is back with my tea.

We have our tea together before he is about to leave until I say "please don't leave me". Looking slightly confused, bucky says "are you sure, doll?"

I nod, not wanting to be alone again. Then for once in a while, I don't end up crying myself to sleep. Being around bucky always helped with my guilt about pietro and nat and my dad and everything that's happened to wanda especially recently.

"can I tell you a secret?" I ask bucky. Wjen he agrees, I say "on my 21st, Nat took me on a date. When I was eight, I thought I was in love so I asked her on a date and she said when I'm 21."

"really? What was it like?" he asked. "We went to this italian restaurant and after she kissed me on the cheek, I waited 13 years to go on a date then not long after she dies" I say.

Pulling me into a hug, bucky says "I'm sorry you had to go through that but you have me now, doll". I smile at that one bit of comfort, I still have bucky even if it's as a friend.

As I fall asleep in his arms, I feel him nuzzle into my neck and whisper endearingly "I still love you, my doll."

Taglist -

@lilacmeadows @lilulo-12 @criminalyetminimal

[outlaw-unicorn]

📖 (for the ask meme!)

I lovingly call this "The Magic is Forbidden AU" bc I'm great with titles XD also it's klapollo bc my brain really latched onto these gay lawyers :D

It's a bit of ye good ole fantasy setting where magic (and magic users) are criminalized and persecuted. So when Mama and Papa Gavin where revealed as magicians they were hunted down and killed, leaving Kristoph to fend for himself and his baby brother, who unfortunately showed signs of huge magical powers from early one. With typical teenager logic Kris decides the best place to hide would be in a forest that's already rumoured to be cursed anyway. he conjures a guardian beast (who we shall name Vongole :D) and then tells Klavier (so that he won't be tempted to sneak out into the world where he could be hurt and killed) that setting a foot outside their property - a no longer abandoned mansion + its garden - would have a huge monster hunt him. now being young and curious, of course Klavy disobeys, Vongole comes and scares him (she's supposed to keep Klavy in and everyone else out) so he runs back inside. and here's where it turns out Klavier has a lot more magic than Kristoph that unfortunately actswithout Klav's input. bc Kristoph is gone a lot, what with having to make money and earn food for the both of them, and therefore Klavier never gets any proper training. so Klavier's magic acts accordingly to his unconscious thoughts. Vongole turns into this huge terrifying monster that's actually dangerous (she still wouldn't hurt him bc she's been created with his and his brothers magic) but she certainly is nothing anyone wants to deal with.

there's also some fun to be had with Klavier thinking you can dye white clothes purple if you leave them lying in the light filtering trhough the stained glass windows for long enough. and it works bc he thinks it should.

anyway, fast forward about 15 years. Kristoph has turned a lot harsher, having decided if the world doesn't want them bc of what they are, then he shouldn't care about it either and he's up to some questionable stuff

meanwhile there's rumors about this forest and the wizard living inside. they're pretty varied but they all agree on two things:

if you hear the beast, don't run, don't scream and, most importantly, don't look at it. because no one ever saw the creature and lived to tell the tale and

in his lair the wizard hides all kinds of treasures including the Water of Life that is said to cure all illnesses

So many a fool has come and died in search of gold but there's also the desperate fool who wants to save a loved one. which brings as to Polly who has a sick baby sister. his dads (the rulers of the city/land) are doing their best to find a cure (or find someone who can help) but it's all in vain and Apollo is done waiting. one night he sneaks out only to be stopped by Clay, a member of the city guard and his best friend. turns out one of his dads expected him to do this and asked Clay to at least give him a good luck charm that belonged to Apollo's mother. It's imbued with powerful magic that keeps its owner safe so he better not be caught with it.

anyway with this bracelet he manages to get past the beast but instead of finding riches he runs into Klav who is at first very :D bc finally a friend! and then very :(( when he hears about Trucy. too bad that Polly's bracelet needs to recharge and now they're both stuck in the mansion.

well, unless your name is Apollo Edgeworth-Wright-Justice and you've decided that running out into the forest where a creature that's ten times bigger and faster than you is a great idea. needless to say it goes badly but Klavier hs decided to follow him and finds out that the creature actually doesn't want to hurt him. inch resting.

so he starts talking to her how she's a good lil monster, ja? and surely she wouldn't want to hurt them, right? and his magic goes okey-dokey and sparkle glitter sparkle, suddenly there's a golden retriever.

so now Polly, who's had a lot of fun with "wtf that's not how things work, how are you getting apple cider by simply crushing an apple core and all????" and Klavier are starting to figure out that maybe, just maybe, Klavier actually has a lot of magic and then Klavier decides to come with him and help Trucy

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Six

Words: 3K

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, drug abuse

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The only sound is the clock ticking on our lawyer's desk, and the soft pattering of rain coming down.

"Just sign and initial and we'll get these back to the judge for approval." Nikki's lawyer tells us and I rub my lips together. 

We both grab the pens he hands over to us, hesitantly, and Nikki clears his throat, his hand hovering over the first page of lines to be signed.

If he signs them, I'll sign them, I say to myself. 

His pen presses to the paper, and it's as if he's trying to force himself to sign them...nothing happens, though. 

The lawyer notices this. 

"They can't be registered for approval if they're not signed." He adds, looking at the both of us. 

Nikki just rolls his eyes and taps his foot, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask him softly, hoping to God he says, "no." 

"Yeah, Vivian. I'm sure." He states, still looking at the papers, pen still…

I get the "V" of my signature written and he looks down and scribbles across his paper, standing up. 

"Fuck this, c'mon." He hisses and I look at him, wide eyed as he grabs my hand and pulls me up. 

"W-What?" I ask. 

"I'm retracting." He tells his lawyer as he walks out, taking me with him. 

"Nikki, what the hell are you doing?" I ask him, confused as we walk down the stairs of the law firm. 

"I've broken every fuckin' vow except 'till death do us part' and I'll be fucked to hell if we stuck it out and stayed with each other after the worst bullshit just to fucking divorce." He tells me. 

One Month Earlier

I went to see him to try to understand where exactly we were in our relationship, if he even really wanted a divorce or if he was just wanted to start over, but, like always…

"I don't understand why you're being so stubborn, Viv--"

"--Because you want me to sign papers you filed less than 24 hours after you freaking died, Nikki!" I whisper yell. 

"I assure you, I'm well aware!" He replies in the same quiet tone. "Sign the fucking papers."

"None of my grandparents ever divorced, my parents aren't divorced, I am not getting divorced. I'm a Christian, we don't do divorce." 

"Well, you're not supposed to do sex before marriage or adultery, either, but that sure as shit didn't keep your panties on." He mumbles. 

"Do you really bring up who did what because I assure you, your list is a hell of a lot longer than mine." I reply. 

"Oh, is it?" 

"Oh, it so is and you know it is." 

He covers his ears and glare at him, flaring my nostrils. 

"Are you serious right now?" 

"I can't hear you." He tells me and I reach across the table and snatch his hands away from his ears, scowling. 

"You are acting like a child right now!" I scold him. 

"Now you know how I feel while trying to get you to just sign the damn papers!" He replies, crossing his arms. "But if you stay like this I might reconsider." He adds, his eyes on my chest where I'm leaning over. 

"You aren't even taking this seriously, Nikki." I shove at his shoulder before sitting back down and he chuckles. 

"I am, too," He argues. "You just look good." 

"You're changing the subject." 

"I can't compliment you?" 

"Not when it's just to change the subject." 

"I'm not changing the subject."

"Just like you to file for a divorce and then not want to discuss it with the woman who's put everything into the marriage you want wiped from existence." 

"Now, you're pissing me off." 

"You pissed me off when I got those damn papers with no warning."

"That's a lie, Vivian, the past year has been a fucking warning--especially with the amount of times you've thrown divorce in my face if I didn't straighten up. Remember that?"

"That's different. It was incentive to get you to act right."

"I didn't have any 'act right' left in me by that point." He states. "Unless it was for you." He smirks and I kick him under the table. 

"Quit being a pervert." 

"That's not perverted."

"This is a serious talk, Nikki, and you're trying to get out of it."

He opens his mouth to talk but I cut him off. 

"And I swear to God if you say, 'I'm trying to get you out of something,' I'm going to come across this table and make you wish you had died." 

"Is that a promise?" He raises a brow.

"I forgot how ridiculously immature sober Nikki is." I hiss. 

"No, no, baby, this isn't even 'sober' Nikki. This is 'I don't have even the slightest sprinkle of anything in me for the first time in ten fucking years and I'm slowly starting to lose my fucking mind just a little bit' Nikki. Now just imagine staying married to this." He explains to me and I cut my eyes. 

"Why the hell are you trying to convince me to want to divorce you?" 

"Because you told me to fucking divorce you, remember?" 

I furrow my brows. 

"The day I got home and we got into that argument and you told me to just divorce you. So I'm trying to." 

"You know that's not what I meant, Nikki." 

"What the fuck did you mean, Vivian, because you fucking said, 'just divorce me then'." 

"I didn't mean the next fucking day." 

"You're crazy." He tells me. 

"I'm crazy? I tried to throw myself off of a balcony when I thought you died and you thought it'd be a good idea to break up with me hours later?! Are you sure I'm the only crazy one?!" 

"You told me you wanted out--multiple times." 

"And you told me you loved me." 

"Oh, oh, oh, woah, woah, wait a damn minute, that was a fucking coke binge mixed with alcohol, talking."

"Wasn't much talking, just a lot of crying and begging." I point out and he shakes his head a little, rolling his jaw. "Just for you to come home and file for divorce." 

"Fuck you, Vivian."

"Fuck you, Nikki." 

We both puff up and pout, arms crossed, glaring at each other with "go to hell" looks. 

"...So?" Doc asks us when he comes back to check in on us. 

"She's still that bratty little spoiled prude that would argue with me for the hell of it that she was when I first fucking met her." He snaps. 

"And he's still Satan's evil Spawn." I bark. 

"I'm about to take you to the bathroom." He threatens me. 

"I'd rather have sex with Bret Michaels." I shoot back. 

"At the rate you're going, I believe it." 

"Do we need to talk about the threesome you had with Tansy and Vanity, now, or…?" 

"Wasn't Tansy." He states. 

"Really? Then who was it with?"

"Let's not do this here." Doc says quietly, apparently we're getting louder than we thought, other visitors and patients glancing at us uncomfortably. 

I wanna see them be married to Nikki Sixx and try to handle their shit quietly. 

"Sign the damn papers, Vivian." Nikki tells me as I stand up, grabbing my purse and scoffing. 

"You and your damn papers can go burn." I mumble to him.

"You know I'm right!" He calls after me, I just flick him off, turning my hand to him as I walk away.

When I get back to the house, I'm faced with the boxes I've got stacked and packed, groaning at the mess I've made trying to get our things sorted out--well, my things. 

"Viv?!" Sharise calls from our guest bedroom. 

"It's me!" I call back, hearing Whisky running from where she is to me. 

"Hey, baby boy." I greet him, patting his head. 

"I didn't know what to do with this," she carries down the big white box with my wedding dress in it. "And Sky's asleep, she's had a big afternoon with woof-woof." She states, using Skylar's nickname for Whisky. 

"Aww," I say and take the box from her and carry it to the dinner table. "I haven't opened this since we got married." 

"I wonder if you could still wear it." She adds and I raise my brows. 

"Hell, if I know." I mumble. "I'm not gonna need it anymore."

"Oh, don't say that." She tells me. 

"He's serious about the divorce, Sharise." I state. 

"He's gone through a lot of stuff, Viv. You both have. He's not thinking clearly." 

"Well, I am, and I don't want a freaking divorce." 

"Yeah, but that's you." She reminds me. "I'm sorry it's something you're having to go through but you don't need to be with someone that wants to leave the marriage." 

"I guess." 

"Or you two will work things out and it'll be fine." She says next, optimistic. 

"Work it out…"

I'm hunched over the toilet a week later at the house, puking my guts up, trying to take deep breaths as I think I finish, only to be met with another wave of vomit, my throat and nose burning as regurgitated stomach acid stings at it.

"Shit." I grumble to myself, taking deep breaths…

I glare at the positive pregnancy tests--the reason for my nausea, mainly. 

"Damnit, Vivian." I say to myself, tiredly, trying not to start crying.

Whisky's standing under me and I just sit on the bathroom floor and cry, hugging the dog when he gets closer to me to run his nose against my hand. 

What the hell am I going to do? What the hell am I going to tell Duff? What am I going to tell Nikki? I want him to stay with me but I'm pregnant with a baby that isn't even his. I know he knows about me and Duff, now, but a baby from it would be a constant reminder that, "hey, remember that time you and your wife fucking hated each other and she fucked Duff McKagan while you were overdosing?" 

I hit myself internally, wiping my eyes. 

I knew this was a risk, so I'm not surprised--just pissed at myself. 

I'm not on birth control, I don't like condoms, I'm lucky I don't have an STD but a fucking baby with Duff? 

What's my dad going to think? 

What's Duff's family going to think, especially if by some miracle Nikki and I do stay together...what will happen with his chance to find someone else. Most women in their 20s in L.A. don't want to play step-mom right now. 

The press will have a field day with this…

My mind shifts to Nikki's granddad.

Damn it. 

I glance at the clock that reads 1:34a.m. and let out a breath, exhausted, before opening the bathroom drawer and putting the pregnancy test in it, sniffling. 

I rummage through our cabinets for something to help me sleep, finding some NyQuil.

I decide to take it since the only reason I had a reaction to it last time was because I mixed it with my antidepressant, and I go lay down, looking at Whisky getting in beside me, laying on Nikki's side of the bed, my mind plucking at a familiar sight not too long ago.

"Where the hell is Nikki at?!" I hear Doc shout over the bustle backstage, and I furrow my brows, stopping my conversation with Tawny Kitaen--who's here with David Coverdale--as Doc looks at me. 

"You know where the fuck Sixx is?" He snaps at me. 

"No, I came with Sharise and Heather." I tell him. 

"Is Nikki even fucking here?!" He shouts next. 

"How the hell am I supposed to know, Doc?!" I yell back, getting pissed. 

"Maybe because you're his wife?" I hear someone cut in, sounding irritated, and I slowly turn around and see Bobby Dall leaned against an amp, his arms crossed. 

"Maybe lick my twat." I snap back, harshly. 

"I'm missing a fucking bassist that's supposed to go on in fifteen fucking minutes!" Doc yells over everybody, making me and Bobby shut up our bickering that's about to inevitably start. "Has anybody seen or heard anything from Nikki Sixx?!" 

We all glance at each other, not saying a word. 

"Fuck!" He outbursts, storming away to call the office back home. 

Bobby huffs out a breath and pushes past me and Tawny, while I just glare daggers into him. 

It was Day on the Green, a big music festival in Oakland, California, and on the second day, Whitesnake, Poison, and Mötley Crüe were set to perform. But once it was Mötley's turn, nobody could find Nikki. I had come with Sharise and Heather. Nikki had attempted to kick smack, again, so we all thought that's what delayed his arrival...come to find out…

"I've been up three fucking days freebasing, Tommy, alright?" He snaps to a pissed off Tommy and Vince after, "You're fucking shooting up again," leaves Tommy's lips. 

The guys are pissed off--the most pissed I've ever seen them at Nikki--and the fans, who've been waiting for nearly an unacceptable amount of time for Mötley Crüe, are bustling with impatience as Nikki steadily drinks from a bottle of Jack to bring himself down some.

He glances at me and snarls. 

"Get her outta here. I can't do shit with her looking at me like I'm dead." He snaps to Fred and I roll my jaw and leave him be.

By the time the show goes on, it's so obvious that Nikki's out of it, his eyes wide and wild, his brain fried…

Once the part of the show happens where Vince brings out bottles of Jack for Nikki and Tommy to chug on stage, I feel my eyes water, seeing Nikki scrambling to get up where he threw himself down the stage, to grab the fifth of Jack from Vince. 

He chugs half, Tommy chugs half, and when Nikki comes to grab some water to try to keep up and finish the show as strong as he can, he takes two big gulps of water and hisses a bit of it back up, coughing and hacking. 

I'm assuming he grabbed Micks straight vodka by accident. 

The show ends soon, and Nikki's slobbering drunk, looking tired and worn down. 

"I'm fuckin' going home." He tells Doc, pushing past him. "Vivian, baby, c'mon." He tells me, surprisingly gentle, slurring and taking heavy breaths. 

I think he's just that damn tired. 

"You don't want to stay and try to sober up some?" I ask him, calmly. 

"No, I just wanna go home." He repeats. 

I tell the girls and boys, 'bye,' right before Doc hammers us with when we need to be at the airport to leave for the next shows on the tour. 

I can see Nikki being bombarded with Doc, bitching him out for being late while simultaneously threatening him if he doesn't get his shit together before they do the next line of shows...his eyes growing more and more distant with each word. 

"You know how many fuckin' people you disappointed tonight, Nikki?" Doc asks him next. 

"Doc, he gets it, alright." I interrupt since Nikki's not saying anything to him. I take Nikki's hand and pull him to the door. 

"He obviously doesn't get it, Vivian." He bites at my heels, following after us. 

"I get it, you're pissed, but can we please do this another time?" I hiss, snapping around to him, glancing around at the different roadies backstage, some of the members of other bands and their girlfriends and wives looking uncomfortable with Nikki getting his metaphorical asshole torn into a million pieces by Doc. 

"You've both been saying that for the past year, Vivian, so no. We can't do this another time." Doc tells me, fed up. 

"Well, me and him are." I argue, turning back around and grabbing Nikki's arm to keep walking.  

Nikki's not even here mentally. It's like he's sedated. 

"Just go ahead and enable him, Vivian." Doc outbursts to me, still behind us with each step, and I turn and throw my fist to his face as hard and fast as I can, hearing a satisfying crack in his cheek. 

Eyes widen around us, Fred is rubbing his face as he steps to us, Tommy, Vince and Mick glaring at me...they can all think Nikki Sixx married a batshit bitch. 

I don't care anymore.

When we get on the plane Nikki flew in on, he sits down and stays quiet as I sit across from him. 

The only thing he tells me the entire hour and a half worth of flight is, "I've fucking done it again," I'm assuming in reference to messing things up. 

He locks himself in the closet when we get home, and I spend the night wide awake, staring at Whisky where he's laying on Nikki's side of the bed.

"You and me again." I say to him, reaching out and rubbing his head as he stretches.

I blink the memory back, still looking at Whisky. 

"You and me again."

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

Mommy Dearest, Part 1

"What if Leonardo was already married when he met Patience?"

****

Francesca ironed her husband's white dress shirt, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles. He was a dapper, handsome man and she wanted him to look perfect. Nothing less would do.

A distant cry made her look up and out the living room window. Her boys were carousing in their roomy green yard. Chris was trying to yank his brother down, fingers entangled in his black hair.

"Bambini!" She called out in warning, but they still tussled, and didn't separate until they heard the engine of their father's black car as he pulled into the garage.

The kids nearly stumbled over themselves, shouting joyously and running in through the back door as the front door opened. Her husband put down his suitcase, picked up Chris and swung him around. "You're being a good boy for your mama?"

As he passed, Leonardo brushed a soft, affectionate kiss on the nape of Francesca's neck. "How is our little Fiorella?"

"Sleeping. Finally." She smiled prettily and tucked a strand of her long, thick black hair behind her ear.

"We're having pasta e fagiole for dinner. No, don't get up. I'll make it. You've been busy all day, deserve a break."

Sometimes Francesca wondered what he did out all day. He said he was managing his father's businesses, but Francesca was from Sicily. And she knew what kind of a man Silvio had been. So sometimes, as she fed the baby or did the laundry, her mind wandered, and she wondered.

But watching her husband's back, head bent and light shining off his beautiful golden curls as he tilted his head to listen to his son's chatter...

She wasn't sure why she would even want to.

***

Patience flexed her fists. In. Out. In. Out.

Fifteen minutes.

Michael had fifteen minutes to plant the wire.

Borghese was lingering by an oak tree, by Central Park. He was carefully watching something in the distance in the grove of trees that surrounded them.

Patience stomped up, gripped his leather-clad coat and turned him around.

"You better LISTEN to me," she spat in his face. "I know what you're doing. You fucking criminal. You can hire as many fancy lawyers as you like--"

His eyes were clear blue and opaque as the day she had stormed up on the courthouse steps and screamed at him. "Ssh," he said, voice a hush. His pupils focused on hers, fixed in a terrifyingly intense way. He pressed a finger to her lips just as a dirty-faced toddler stumbled out of the sandbox and latched on her leg.

"Leonardo, cosa non va?" Chirped a pretty voice. A dainty dark-haired woman was walking towards them, holding the hand of a little boy.

Patience stood there, bare in front of his devouring eyes, the warmth of a child against her leg.

"I--I'm sorry," she stammered, picking up the baby girl and clumsily cradling into her shoulder. "I never meant--"

The woman--Mrs. Borghese--regarding her hesitantly. "Who are you?"

The baby kicked at her chest and babbled. Patience looked down. "I'm sorry. I thought you were--" alone "someone else. What a beautiful girl you have."

"Her name is Fiorella," said Borghese softly, taking his daughter from her arms. "You are good with children. Do you have any of your own?"

His gaze was making her tremble. "No," she said quickly, under the disturbing eyes of Borghese and the more confused ones of his wife. "I need--I need to go now." Michael should have had plenty of time to plant the wire. Plenty. She hurried away, hearing Mrs. Borghese erupt in a chattering of Sicilian behind her. Borghese himself did not answer. He was silent, and the silence echoed behind her, and it disturbed her more anything in her life.

***

Patience stumbled backwards, her torn ankle wrenching in pain. "You disgusting murderer," she spat. "You--you let me go r-right now, I have friends, friends in high places."

"No one's going to look for you, Pazienza, and you know it." He was calmly taking off his jacket.

She cast a desperate look outside the window. They were in an apartment--high up, too high up for her to jump out the window. 

"You're a married father, Leonardo BORGHESE! You have a god damn family and you're kidnapping young women! I feel sorry for your wife, I really do, unless that whore is in on it with you."

He didn't seem to be particularly bothered by her spat threats, even when she called his wife a whore. "She's a good wife. That's all she is."

For some reason, that infuriated her father. "Two sons. They're old enough to know what their father gets up to. And I pity your daughter."

That seemed to irritate him. "Lie down and take your dress off."

She spat in his face, and he slapped her without his face twitching or changing. "Oh, dolcezza. You're, as they say, a tough nut to crack."

***

Francesca could not get the worry out from her mind.

"I had the ball!"

"No, I had it!"

Christoforo and Giuseppe. Chris and Johnny. Different as night and day. Both had their mother's thick, dark hair and father's elegant features, but Johnny was loud and rambunctious, his brother quiet and thoughtful. Chris had always been her favorite. He always helped his mama in the kitchen and looking after his baby sister, Fiorella.

"I'm off, my darling," Leo said to her as he shrugged on his dress jacket. He looked so handsome with his hair slicked back, those golden curls teased straight. Where was he going? Why was he dressing up?

"You be careful, dear," Francesca murmured, kissing Leonardo on the cheek. Instead of turning and kissing her back, he simply smiled warmly at her and left through the front door.

As he left, and as she saw him turn, his neck shifted, and Francesca saw a faint bruise on his nape. One that looked like a…

Hickey.

***

A hickey.

Francesca agonized and mulled and worried. The thought festered and nibbled at her even as she fed her baby.

"Mama, Johnny won't let me have the football," whined Chris, who instead of fighting his brother, had come to her. Francesca barely spared him a glance. "You sort it out with him then."

Francesca was from Sicily. She knew what her husband was involved with. He was a good husband--she wanted for nothing. He took her along on his galas, made love to her, bought her jewelry, adored their children. Even if their marriage had been arranged, she had dared to think he loved her.

Until now.

She knew that men--especially men as powerful as Leonardo--liked to have mistresses. It was natural. However much he had spoiled her, he was a man.

But it didn't stop worrying her.

She had been a good wife, had she not? Borne sons, raised them, not complained? What had she done wrong?

The keys to his other houses hung on the rungs by the door. She had not touched them before now.

***

The first house was still shuttered, and there were dead leaves in the driveway. It had not been inhabited for some time.

Francesca almost decided to just go home, but decided to check the apartment building he rented. After that, she decided, she would go home.

The inside of the lobby was cold and quiet, marble floors clicking under her heels. She checked her key. Room 2103.

She took the elevator, nervously worrying if someone should spot her, one of her husbands' "friends". Francesca had never done this before--but she had never mistrusted him like this before.

The silence of the hall rang in her ears. It looked new. Artificial. Like no one lived behind any of the lacquered doors.

She twisted the key into 2103, and slowly pushed it open. The onside stunned her--it was a wreck. It looked like a bunch of hoodlums had come through and trashed it. As she stepped onto the mussed rug, she heard a distant gasp and a moan.

Her heart went into overdrive. She crossed the room in one stride, yanked open the bedroom door, and saw her worst nightmare

Inside the bedroom, on a bed with the sheets crumpled and tossed over the edge, Leonardo, her… her… husband was lying on top of what looked like a young girl, his body between her thighs.

As soon as the door swung open, Leonardo whipped around onto his back, next to the girl, and his eyes displayed a wild panic before they focused on her and recognized her. "Chicca. I can--"

He had not called her Chicca since they had courted. Somehow, that detail made her fury rise to neverending heights. "You disgusting disgrace!" Francesca screamed, tears streaming down her face. Ten years of marriage were slipping down a black hole in front of her horrified eyes.

The girl had rolled over onto the floor, covering her small breasts with the sheet. She had to be in her teens at the very least, early teens if Francesca was being truthful. She felt the disgust roil in her belly.

"Francesca," said Leonardo finally, and he stepped towards her, curving his hand over her tear-stained cheek. For a moment they were back in Sicily again, in Scafapani, at their first meeting in the cathedral, him with his hair in rebellious curls framing his gentle face, her hiding behind her scarf to shield her beet red flush. But he had laughed and taken her hand and kissed it anyway.

And his hand drifted down to her neck.

***

Patience ran out of the bedroom, clutching the sheet around her like a cape, and burst through the front door. She heard Borghese's wife wailing behind her, calling him mixed insults in English and Italian. When she came to the elevator, her high, despairing voice stopped as quickly as it began.

Cut off. Like a pig's throat slit, or a goose's neck strangled.

Tears beaded in her eyes as the silver doors of the elevator opened. When they klinged on the first floor, Patience ran out of the building, never looking back.

***

Chris knew there was something wrong as soon as his father called upstairs. There was a stern, sorrowful edge to his voice. "Giuseppe. Christoforo. Come down here. Your father wants to talk to you."

"I didn't do it, dad!" Johnny protested immediately as their father sat them down in the sitting room. Dad was holding baby Fiorella on his lap.

Chris felt the chill rest over his shoulders before he started speaking. He knew it was more enormous than that.

"You didn't do anything, Johnny. It's about your mother."

"What about mama? Is… is she all right?"

"Mama isn't coming back. She… had an accident."

There was a pause, and Johnny began to howl loudly. Chris's eyes welled with tears, but he didn't speak. All he could do was stare. His brain refused to believe it.

With Johnny's wails, Fiorella began to cry too, and Dad rocked her in his arms, getting up. "I'm so sorry, my darlings. I'm so sorry." He took them both in his arms, and Chris finally let himself weep, face pressed into the breast of his father's suit.

"What are we gonna do?" Sobbed Johnny when his father let go. "What are we gonna do without Mama?"

"Hush now." He gently stroked his son's head, gentle fingers threading their way through his thick dark hair. "Things will be back to normal soon. You won't be without a mother for long."

"Whaddyou mean?" Sniffed Chris. His father smiled a strange, secret smile and looked down at his daughter in his arms, bouncing her.

"There is someone I want you to meet. And I promise you… you are going to just adore her."

[vivrepourleslivres]

Hey, I know you already graduated so sorry if this is a bit off topic! I'm starting at Oxford next month to do law, and I'm a bit panicked about the reading. I feel like I read pretty slowly, especially if I'm taking notes (which I kind of have to if I want to focus at all), and it just seems like they're so much raw material I don't know if I'll keep up. Is that something you ever struggled with? How many pages did you tend to have to read in a day? I worry I'll have to stop sleeping ngl

Well, congratulations on getting into Oxford! That in and of itself is not an easy task so it’s always a good thing to remember when workload is stressing you out that your tutors must have picked you for a reason, and that they think you can handle it even if sometimes you feel like you can’t. Also, I may not be able to give as many examples as I would like because I’m currently in the process of moving so all my old reading lists and breakdowns are in a box somewhere…

First, everyone struggles with reading. EVERYONE. Even if they don’t admit it. Law is one of, if not the most, intensive subjects when it comes to the sheer amount of reading you have to do. The Law Faculty describes the workload by saying it should be around 30-40 hours a week – a fulltime job essentially. However, this is quite a bit exaggerated. Of course, it all depends on what college you’re in and who your tutors are, but you can get by just fine without forcing yourself to be glued to a textbook/casebook/WestLaw all day:

·         You do not have to read the entire reading list of cases. Your tutors will hopefully make this clear to you, and if they don’t then the finalist lawyers in your college definitely should. Every reading list I was ever given by a tutor had certain cases in bold or marked by an asterisk. These are the must-reads, which you will have to know and come exam time will likely be referencing often. You should read the entirety of these cases, including all the judgements, even if there is no dissent in the case. It’s by knowing the little details in each judge’s reasoning in these cases that you get in the 67-74 mark realm, which is where you want to be. There’s usually a couple of these per reading list, but no more than ten on any one list I would say. For cases that are not bold or marked, your tutor will probably tell you to read these anyway. I did this in my first year and it just stressed me out without helping much. It’s kind of a thing you have to get a feel for. I would read the headnote of the case (so the facts and the summary of the judgement), and decide whether it was important from that. If the case is mentioned a lot in the important cases because it was at one point important precedent, it’s probably still a good idea to read it. If not, and if it is on a very small subsection in the reading list (like trustees de son tort in trusts), I wouldn’t bother. The only other thing I’d add with regards to cases is that recent cases (so for you anything that came out [2017] or later) is probably worth reading because tutors like to bring them up. If your tutor insists that every case is important, look up the faculty reading list for that subject on WebLearn, as the most important cases are highlighted there as well. You can also use the faculty list if you want some more cases/articles for your essay but the tutor hasn’t provided many.

·         Textbook reading can be hit or miss. A good chunk of your weekly reading can come from the assigned textbook chapter. From what I remember it’s usually around 70 pages per subject per week, and for your first two years you’ll be on a subject and a half a term so around 70-140 pages a week from the textbook? Tutors have their own textbook preferences, and will probably point you towards a certain one, but some subjects do not really (in my opinion) fully warrant investment into a textbook – I barely ever used my EU law or my administrative law textbooks, I think I only opened the second for my final! I also think there is something to be said for trying to understand the cases in your own way before reading the textbook, as some of the authors are very biased in their explanations. Other subjects however (especially Intro to Roman Law) are more focussed on textbooks because of their nature. You’ll figure it out pretty quickly though were textbooks are important and where they’re not. I would however highly suggest the Text, Cases, and Materials series though! These combine a textbook and a casebook, and are pretty up-to-date on new developments. My contract one was honestly a god send, and I cut a lot of cases and textbook reading out of my week because of those books.

·         Articles. I’ll be honest, I would usually only read an article if it directly correlated to the essay, or was under 20 pages. Articles are your tools for getting a 70s, but you can get very high 2:1s without having to read many of them. Articles in my opinion are more time consuming than textbook reading – there was a week of admin reading that ended in five 60 articles on the same topic and that was actual hell.  It’s also rather difficult in an exam setting to remember many articles and academic viewpoints unless you completely drill them into your head so… Yeah – you don’t need to read many, and you certainly don’t have to read all of them (but if you’re really interested in the subject and have the time – go for it!)

·         Legislation. This applies mainly to land law and it’s heavy reliance on statute – literally glance at the sections on the list and post them all into a word document which you keep open during tutorials. You’ll get to know the really important sections through the cases, so don’t waste time on trying to remember it all (especially since you’re allowed statute books in exams). For EU law (which also relies on legislation quite a bit), maybe have a closer look at the actual wording and the implication of it, but again you get a statute book so…(also EU is a finalist subject so I’m getting a bit ahead of myself)

·         Your finalists are your friends. I mean upper years in general, but the finalists are the ones with all the tips and tricks because you get so stressed you learn all the ways to cut corners :D Do not be afraid to ask your seniors for notes! This does depend somewhat on college (again), but in my college a dropbox is made each year by the graduating cohort of all their finals notes (so I’ve just done this), and second years add in their moderations notes as well. These are great because they let you skip cases (providing the notes include case summaries) and can even point out those little differences in judge’s reasoning that I was talking about earlier (like the three-way split in Re Baden’s 2). So don’t be afraid to ask for notes, or even for advice on what you can safely skip knowing your tutor.

·         They ease you into it. You’ll do criminal law, constitutional law, and an introduction to roman private law over your first two terms, doing a subject and a half per term. Of those three, criminal law is the only case-heavy subject. Constitutional law and roman are mainly textbook/article based. So you shouldn’t have a very intense workload until Trinity term at the earliest (outside of revision for mods in Hillary) at which point you should have found your ideal work pace. So try not to worry too much about it all happening too much at once.

Honestly, I think it’s kind of an Oxford thing that we somewhat exaggerate how much work we do. Personally, I would divide my reading list into chunks (usually about a third of a side of A4) and say – this is how much I’m going to get done each day. Most reading lists are 2/3 sides of A4 I would say? I could still have days where I wouldn’t get that chunk done and would still be okay and reach the deadline. So I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Also you could make arrangements with other fresher lawyers to take certain parts of the reading list, but I maybe wouldn’t do that until you know them and how they approach cases/reading/notes, etc.

I hope this wasn’t too ramble-y and did somewhat help. I’m totally happy to answer any questions you have about Oxford/law despite graduating because it helps me relieve my youth and avoid the real world :L Good luck for your first year!