#Law of torts notes

[prolawctor]

Trespass to Land in Torts| Notes on Law of Torts|

Trespass to Land in Torts| Notes on Law of Torts|

  Trespass to Land in Torts| Notes on Law of Torts| Trespass to Land in Torts Definition : Trespass to land is the unjustifiable interference with the possession of land. (Winfield) Two Essentials : Invasion of or entry on the land. Invasion must be unjustifiable. Possession : It is the evidence of ownership and has two ingredients : Animus and Corpus ; Animus is the mental element and corpus…

[queenshelby]

The Law Student (Rewritten)

Part Two: Tutoring

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (20) & Reader (30)

Note: This plays in 1996, just before Cillian drops out of law school.

Three days after you had agreed to tutor Cillian, you also began to tutor a young woman by the name of Siobhan. Siobhan was in her second year of the Law program; hence, you didn't have her for any of your lectures.

Siobhan was twenty-one and straight-forward, independent, and easy-going. In addition to her obvious academic prowess, she possessed a strong and assertive personality, something that could only be described as an asset in such a demanding field while, at other times, it would be rather frustrating.

Confidence was Siobhan’s middle name; you respected her for it, although you could tell that she struggled with her own insecurities and self-doubt at times, something that she masked through her feisty behavior and sharp wit.

"Are you okay Siobhan?" you asked half way through the session when you noticed the frown on her forehead and her restlessness while you were trying to explain the intricacies of a particularly challenging legal precedent.

Siobhan sighed deeply, almost defeatedly. "Sorry Miss Y/LN, I am just distracted," she admitted. "I have a lot going on at the moment. There is this guy who's really messing with my head. He is such an eejit," she confessed, raking her slender fingers through her mane of chestnut hair, evident as she glanced downwards, avoiding your gaze.

"Well, I am afraid I can't help you with that, but I can give you a little break if you like. Maybe getting some air will make you feel better?" you suggested, offering a gentle smile in her direction.

Siobhan looked up, meeting your gaze gratefully. "Thank you, Miss Y/LN. A little break sounds good," she confirmed and you both stood up, setting your books aside and allowing the fresh air to fill the room. You could see the relief in Siobhan's features as they relaxed into a more natural state of being while you started talking about less academic-related topics silently acknowledging the need for a distraction.

Siobhan was from a wealthy family with high expectations and you learned later in the day, after your tutoring session had already come to an end, that the young man who was causing her grief was no other Cillian, the student who had captured your undivided attention ever since the first day of classes.

You did not know what happened between them and you knew that, under no circumstances, could you get involved. Not only were you his professor, but you were also her tutor and as such you had to keep your distance both physically and emotionally.

As such, you made a mental note to keep a comfortable distance between Cillian and yourself, hoping that this would solve your ever growing attraction towards this much younger man.

**********

Thursday arrived faster than you expected. You had spent the last two days preparing your lesson plan for Cillian's tutoring session.

You wanted to make sure that the material you covered was relevant to his struggles in Contracts and Torts and, as you reviewed his previous exams and assignments, you noticed a pattern in his mistakes. He often misapplied legal principles to specific cases, highlighting his lack of confidence in his understanding of the subject matter.

Just as you had planned, you arrived at the small lecture room early as your heart was beating a little faster than usual. You had prepared extensively for this session, and you were eager to help Cillian work through his challenges.

The room felt strangely intimate with its small round table and four chairs placed in the center of it. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You were a seasoned lawyer who had tutored many law students before either at work or through a university project you were part of, but there was something about Cillian that made you feel a little more off balance than usual. 

You heard a knock on the door, and Cillian walked in, a sheepish look on his face.

"Sorry, I'm a bit early," he said nervously, biting his lower lip as he walked in and you smiled at him, trying to hide your nerves.

"No problem at all, Cillian. Come on in, take a seat," you told him with a smile, and he sat down across from you, and you could feel your heart racing. 

"So, we're going to focus on Contracts and Torts today. I see that you've been making some good progress, but there are a few areas where you could use some improvement," you observed and Cillian nodded, looking serious.

"I appreciate the help, Miss Y/LN," he told you before admitting that, perhaps, he had not spent enough time studying for these subjects in recent weeks.

"It's just so boring ," he said quietly, and you could not help but laugh at his honesty.

"Yes, it can be, especially when you don't fully understand the material," you agreed, recalling your own experiences as a student when you found certain legal concepts dry and tedious. But, you continued, "it's important to push through that and find ways to make the material interesting and applicable to real life situations. That way, you're less likely to forget it and more likely to excel in both the classroom and as a lawyer."

Cillian nodded, appearing to take in every word. "Yeah, I don't even know if I want to be a lawyer which might be part of my problem," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted to study theatre, but my father didn't think it was a practical option. He wanted me to have a stable career, and I kinda just went along with it because I didn't want to disappoint him."

You paused, taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. "Well, Cillian, it's important to do what you love," you said gently. "And it's never too late to change paths.

If you are passionate about theater, then you should pursue it. Life is too short to spend it doing something you don't enjoy," you said, empathizing with the young man who sat across from you.

You has been in his shoes before, feeling the pressure to conform to others' expectations rather than following your true passions. You knew firsthand how it felt to sacrifice one's own happiness for the sake of others.

Cillian looked up at you, his deep blue eyes searching yours. "Yeah, I know. But, it's not that easy," he  responded with a hint of frustration. "I need to figure things out. I need to know what I want to do with my life. But, that's really not your problem,"  Cillian said, attempting to diffuse the sudden heaviness in the room with a weak smile as you sat there, watching his actions intently.

You returned the smile, albeit a little more sympathetically. "I understand, Cillian. Trust me, I do. Just know that I'm here to help you figure things out, whether it's with contracts, torts, or just finding your path," you offered, hoping to reassure him while, almost inadvertently, placing your hand on top of his in a comforting manner.

Cillian's eyes widened at the contact, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he looked at you with a mixture of confusion and gratitude. The tension between you was palpable, and you both knew that something had shifted in the room, which is when you quickly removed your hand , returning it to your lap.

"Uhm, so how about we start with Torts ?" you suggested, hoping that diving into the lesson would help to dispel the tension.

Cillian nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, sure. That sounds good," he replied, fidgeting slightly in his chair.

Over the next hour, you worked through a series of Torts in painstaking detail, hoping to help Cillian understand the subject matter more fully. He took notes diligently and asked insightful questions that revealed a deeper level of understanding than you had initially anticipated.

Cillian's curiosity about the subject matter was infectious and you leaned in to look over his shoulder as he wrote down some notes .

Your proximity to him sent a flutter of butterflies through his stomach and he seemed to tense up slightly under your gaze. 

Inhaling your scent , a blend of vanilla and jasmine, did not help his composure in the slightest, and for a moment, a faint blush surfaced on his cheeks which was a blush that grew even heavier when you leaned in and pointed to two of the sentences he had written down. 

"These two points are crucial. Without proving both of these doctrines you cannot possibly establish a case of negligence," you stated as you traced the lines with your finger while accidentally brushing against his hand, sending sparks flying between you. 

Cillian swallowed hard, nodding his understanding. "That makes sense," he said, his voice barely above a whisper and, by this point, the intensity in his gaze was enough to make your heart race.

"Your hair smells really nice by the way," Cillian then added suddenly as your curls had been so close to his face and you blinked in surprise, your face heating up at the unexpected compliment.

You didn't know how to respond , that simple gesture had caught you off guard, and you took a moment to recover before replying with a soft, "thanks" before stepping back to create some distance between the two of you.

You wondered if Cillian could sense the tension in the room, tension that went beyond mere physical attraction and veered into uncharted territory.

Taking a deep breath, you decided that the most professional thing to do would be to focus on his education, putting your own feelings to the side.

"So, shall we continue?" you asked, although your voice trembled slightly and Cillian nodded, his own breathing uneven.

"Yes, sure," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours  and, for a moment, the world outside that little lecture room seemed to fade away.

You cleared your throat, trying to refocus your attention on the task at hand. "Okay, so let's go over this next case together," you said, picking up a folder and handing it to him.

Cillian took the folder and opened it, his eyes scanning the pages as you began to explain the details of the case.

You noticed, however, that his gaze constantly drifted towards you, and a flush of warmth crept up your neck as the weight of his stare settled on you and it was almost like he did not even bother to hide his attraction.  Every now and then, you would catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, the smallest of smiles playing at the corners of his lips. You cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to focus on your lesson instead of the young man sitting across from you.

Eventually, time passed and you managed to finish the session without any more awkward moments, though not without a bit of difficulty. You couldn't help but feel a constant tension between the two of you, as if you were both dancing on a knife's edge.

Cillian packed up his things, managing a smile as he did so. "Well, uhm, thank you, Miss Y/LN," he said. "This was really helpful,"  he admitted before pausing for a moment, his eyes searching yours.

You smiled at him, trying to make light of the situation. "You did all the work, Cillian. I'm just here to guide you," you told him truthfully, proud of the progress that he had made.

Cillian grinned, a hint of playfulness in his eyes as he stood up, ready to leave.

"Well, you did a fantastic job of guiding me then," he replied as he slung his backpack over his shoulder but, just as Cillian walked towards the door, he hesitated, turning back to face you. "And I was wondering whether, maybe, you would like to grab a drink with me?"  Cillian asked, his eyes sparkling with an unexpected boldness that was both endearing and intriguing.

Your breath caught in your throat as the request took you by surprise. "What? Now?" you stammered, your mind racing as you tried to think of a polite way to decline.

Cillian shook his head, his cheeks coloring underneath your surprise. "No, not now, of course. I just thought maybe, on the weekend or whenever you are free?" he said, his voice softer than before, as if he were afraid of scaring you off.  His proposal caught you off guard, sending a surge of conflicting emotions through you. You hesitated, unsure of what to say and how to say it.

" I uh, I appreciate the offer, Cillian," you stammered, trying to regain your composure. "But, I think that this would be highly unprofessional of me." You knew that giving into your temptations would only lead to trouble. Not only was there a significant age gap between the two of you, but you were also his professor. Such a relationship could only result in disaster.

Cillian looked disappointed, but he nodded, understanding. "I understand, Miss Y/LN. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said, and you could hear the hurt in his voice but, before you could respond, he quickly turned and left the room, and you were left alone, feeling even more conflicted than before. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

[sparklingmineraltequila]

American Wasteland

Note: This chapter is dark. If you're uncomfortable with the things I put in the warnings, do not read it. If you are old enough to be reading this fic, then you are old enough to monitor your media consumption. This is a work of fiction inspired by an equally dark TV show. If the things that happen in this chapter ever happen to you in real life, there are resources online and people you can talk to. Coercive sex with substances is assault and never your fault.

Warnings: 18+, drugs, alcohol, references to past abuse, dubious consent, coercion to have sex: experienced by both parties, smut, references to sex work, references to sexual violence

Drenched in opiates and regret: Rust's current state of mind. Cold sweats, a power drill mashing into the soft pulp of his brain and an incessant need to vomit the liquor and random drive-thru burger congealing in his stomach: consequences of chasing the dragon. Cassandra isn't talking to him, having spent the past two days sulking and abstaining. Not since he left her like that, trembling on the bathroom floor which Rust doesn't have much sympathy about; something that only infuriates Cassandra further.

He'd found her bookmarking something in one of her textbooks when he got back, perched on the end of the mattress in her cotton sleeping shorts and some faded t-shirt with the hem coming loose. She hadn't even glanced up.

'Gonna kick up another one of your fusses, Cass?' Rust had stated rather than actually asked, opening the fridge to find the carton of Tropicana in an attempt to stave off the impending withdrawal. Cassandra had stayed silent, underlining a specific paragraph on Tort Law with laughable concentration. The slammed fridge door and soft thud of his jacket on the counter had roused her,

'That's real fucking mean of you. What you did before,'

'You sound like a kid, Cassandra.'

That had made her clench her jaw, 'Just cause I'm younger than you doesn't mean you can call me a kid and speak down to me whenever we argue.'

'We ain't arguing,' Rust had said, lighting a cigarette with a nonchalance that had only served to piss Cassandra off even more,

'I am.'

'You are,' he'd agreed with that same aloofness.

'Oh, screw you, Crash,' Cassandra had said, dumping her textbook to the side of the mattress, 'You want to take that fucking attitude with me? Fine but you ain't touching me. You don't get to play that shit with me.'

'All this cause I didn't make you come?' Rust had sucked the air through his teeth in mock condescension, 'You gotta be tougher than that, baby. You ain't gonna last two fuckin' seconds if you pout this much over a lil' fun.' It's not about that. Well, maybe slightly but far from entirely. What Rust did completely fucks the power dynamics between the two of them and scares the shit out of Cassandra. In a place where the pleasure that a woman can give is her currency, a man who can upheave the situation, like Rust did, is terrifying to a girl like Cassandra. That smooth, slippery heat between a woman's legs and the place where the perfume collects between her neck and jaw has seen more men tamed than any guns or money ever have. Even in this, the shittiest armpit of Houston's outer bayous, more deals have been struck and information shared on the creaky plastic covering of cheap motel beds, in hazes of post-orgasm cigarettes, than in any biker bar. Rust's unwavering clarity is dangerous to Cassandra; it plunges her into a near total state of vulnerability that no languid neck rubs or 'Come to bed, baby''s can salvage her from. This isn't some tantrum of a neglected, over-stimulated brat (for the most part) but a desperate scrambling of a girl who's had her entire way of securing safety ripped from underneath her. Rust had almost felt pity gnawing at his gut as she stands there, smooth, tanned limbs and thin cotton. Almost. He'd left the conversation at a biting,

'Grow up.'

He's doing her a favour, really. Rust has warned her of the man he was. He's always considered the mark of a weak person to be an obsession with fulfilment and satisfaction. You didn't get exactly what you wanted? Life kick you right in the fucking teeth? Tough shit. All these fucking plans, all of these futile, paper thin dreams, all this me-me-me; people too blinded by the convictions of their own desires, blinded by how things should be to see how they really are. Judeo-Christian God type shit, Rust thought, Givin' people that false sense of cosmic importance and righteousness. Cassandra can't afford that type of naive idealism and she has never indulged it until now; Rust is making her soft. Cassandra has spent the past couple days giving him monosyllabic answers and looking like she's eating sorrow by the spoonful before Rust shatters it.

It all comes to a head when Ginger tells him to bring Cassandra that night, to the Iron Crusaders' clubhouse. To get better acquainted with your new piece; gotta make sure she's worth the trouble she gave you last time, he'd said with Rust practically being able to see the slobber foaming at the corners of his mouth. And Rust agrees coming to the resolution that those fuckers would never touch Cassandra without him giving them the get go. For once, the archaic machismo of biker gang rules have their perks. Rust is many things and green isn't one of them; he knows whatever is happening tonight isn't going to be the usual liquor, gambling and shooting random shit routine. They would've just pestered Cassandra at the club, if so. He had considered leaving her here, denying Ginger would've aroused suspicion and been a one way ticket to a bullet it his temple, but the best chance she has at getting through whatever perverse shit they have planned is with him. So, Rust does another line to offset the impending cold sweats and to iodise his blood with some of that sharp, hot sting that only something completely fabricated in a lab by man or grown by the raw fucking ingenuity of nature, deep in the Colombian jungle, can give you. As Cassandra comes out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, Rust fixes her with a frigid tone,

'Get dressed. We're goin' out.'

'I ain't going anywhere with you,' Cassandra bites back, making her first eye contact with him in 48 hours. Rust can feels the coke frying his nerves to a fucking charr,

'I didn't ask, I said we're goin'. Don't play around with me tonight, Cassandra. This is serious shit you're fuckin' with.'

She stares at him with those deep, glossy eyes: colour of the molasses Rust used to eat straight from the jar as a boy, that turn to the colour of whiskey in the sun, the one he drinks now that he's a man. He sees it click, she's too smart for it not to. Not the same, calculated intelligence of wariness, in an attempt to avoid the meat thresher. No, that's reserved for girls who exist with the downy padding of money and someone who actually gives two shits about what happens to them. The other girls, those who exist in the dirty cracks between church on Sundays and family dinners, in liquor soaked childhoods with busted bathroom locks and hard leather belts, don't get that luxury. They have the opposite intelligence of momentum: knowing when to ride fast and hard, saying fuck it right into the maws of the beast cause no one's ever protected you so may as well go down looking the fucker in the eye instead of hiding in the corner, like you did as a little girl. Cassandra has that momentum now, as she asks,

'Where are we going?' wrapping the towel tighter around herself, almost as if to comfort herself for the answer she knows is coming.

'Iron Crusaders' clubhouse. Ginger wanted to see you again.'

She looks at him like a spooked horse: head rearing back, eyes wide with fear. Rust plants his hands firmly on those delicate shoulders as she panics,

'I ain't going there, Crash. No, no, no. I'm serious, they'll-'

Rust cuts her off, pulling her into his chest and stroking her hair; his own tenderness taking him by surprise,

'Easy, easy, baby,' he leans down to murmur into her ear, cigarette smoke on his breath, 'This ain't somethin' I'm taking lightly. They won't do anythin' to you that I don't let them do first. Biker gang ethics.'

'Will you? Let them do something to me?'

'No,' Rust says and he means it. Not them.

They ride Rust's, or Crash's, Harley over to the clubhouse. Nights like these are when Rust feels his definitions fading. No more Sophia, no more mowing his lawn and having to watch out for her toys in the grass, no more of those incredible fucking birthdays that there will only ever be two of, no more of those horrific fights with Claire over whether his baby girl should be reduced to a pile of ash or shut in a box and shoved under the cold, wet dirt. That shit is gone and the only thing worth a damn to him, in a way that he can't yet reconcile, is gripping onto him for dear life with trembling hands and stiff arms. Rust is past empty platitudes. He knows who Crash is and it nauseates him when he thinks of what he's going to have to allow himself to do. Cassandra swings her leg over the bike to dismount, her bare leg red and raw from the wind on the ride over. She looks over her shoulder at Rust coming up behind her, placing his hand on her lower back before sliding it down to her ass. As they walk up to the entrance, he mutters gruffly to her,

'Whatever I tell you to do, you do it, you hear?'

'That's not real reassuring,' she glances up at him.

'I ain't trying to be.'

'Course you ain't.'

'I ain't gonna give you a fuckin' forehead kiss and gold star, if that's what you're askin',' Rust states, dryly.

'Yeah, cause that's exactly how we've done it up until now,' Cassandra shoots back, an acerbic sarcasm to her tone.

'That's exactly what I mean. That attitude. You got anymore of that, you get it out of your system now.'

The cold authority of his tone catches her attention,

'Crash?' she asks, her voice a fraction of what it was a moment ago.

'Yeah, Cass?'

'Why the hell am I here?'

'Pure, dumb fuckin' ontological chance. And a damn unlucky one at that.'

'I meant literally, asshole.'

'If we're bein' crass about it: eye candy,' Rust says and internally begs for that to be it. That Ginger and the rest of the boys just want a look at some tits that they've had their eyes on for a couple months and maybe, with a bit of liquor in her, get an idea for how Rust fucks her in bed. And Cassandra, ever the sharp one, is playing the part. A slight thing, all clad in denim and leather, with the outline of her bra's thick embroidery pushing against a cheap, cotton tank top. Their damsel in distress, a trailer park princess that they can save from those stifling, cicada serenaded afternoons of heat and boredom. Plunge her into the cool of the wind whipping past a cruising Harley, of the condensation on a loaded Jack and Coke, of that cold needle sinking into her vein for the first time. They want her, right there in heavily inked arms and bulging biceps, hands that'll hit just as hard as daddy did but in different places until they too become the same. Who'll warn her paternally to be wary of nasty men like them, before kissing her in a very un-paternal way. So Rust leads her through the clubhouse, to the backroom where Ginger told him he'd be and right into the lion's den, hand on her ass and self-loathing in his gut.

'Crash! Over here, brother!' Ginger is sat surrounded by other Crusaders, all varying degrees of drunk and high, most both. Kit is strewn on some greasy table, along with an assortment of Lone Star and Blue Ribbon cans. Rust settles himself on the chair that Ginger pulls out for him, patting his lap to indicate to Cassandra to sit on it which she does, to his relief. Ginger leers at her,

'Well missy, you calmed down since I last saw you? You ain't givin' our Crash anymore trouble, huh? Cause we ain't got much patience for women like that 'round here. None at all. Ain't that right boys?'

Ginger is met with a bunch of whoops and Damn rights before looking back at Rust,

'She behavin' herself?'

Rust pinches a freshly lit cigarette between his fingers,

'Damn right she is. Gave her a good lesson,' he smacks the inside of her thigh, causing Cassandra to inadvertently open them, 'Open your thighs, baby. Let 'em see that you know how I feel about that insubordination.'

That purple bruising is still visible and, earns whistles and laughter from the Crusaders. Cassandra clenches her jaw and snaps her legs shut, a defiance that doesn't go unnoticed from Ginger,

'You still got somethin' to say, girl?'

'No,' Cassandra replies softly but firmly.

'No, my ass. You got a hell of a chip on your shoulder, girl. Can see it from here.'

Rust takes another sharp inhale of smoke,

'Easy, Ginger. She's still learnin' how to be. Practically still wet behind the ears about half the shit I teach her. Fuck man, you should hear the sounds she makes,' throwing in the crude remark as a way to appease the hoard of doped up, drunks with their dicks almost in their hands and their .38s right next to them.

'Figured. S'why I got you a present, brother.'

'Oh yeah? Fuckin' Santa come early?' Rust drawls dryly, thumb rubbing circles on Cassandra's thigh. Ginger chuckles, eyes full of malice,

'Nah, not exactly,' he pulls a white block from the inside of his own biker jacket and dumps it own the table. Rust looks at it, unimpressed, and asks,

'Coke? Is it the good shit?'

Ginger pulls out his switchblade and grabs the saran-wrapped block off of the table, again,

'Courtesy of Miles. Special batch cut with some Molly, real loopy shit.'

'Who the fuck is lookin' for that mix?'

'Pimps. Both get their girls going quicker and faster, for longer.'

A muscle in Rusts's jaw twitches at that and he feels Cassandra tense in his lap,

'I look like a pimp to you, motherfucker?'

'Nah, Crash, but you havin' problems with your lady, ain't you?'

Rust's stomach churns bile at the implications of what Ginger's suggesting and he feels Cassandra go completely rigid. He takes another inhale,

'I don't need coke to get my girl to fuck me, Ginger.'

'Oh I know you don't, 'way you've got that bunny perched in your lap all pretty. This is just to relax her up a bit, show her that one way or another she gon' give it up to you,' Ginger says grinning, ill-intent smothering his words like a slime. He pulls out his switchblade to cut through the seran-wrap and scoop out some of the powder.

'I don't need to coke to do that, either,' Rust says, with the bile now threatening to creep up.

'Consider it quality control, then. She takes a hit and you see how good this shit really is. Then, I report back to Miles,' Ginger's tone now taking on an edge of hardness. Rust recognises the switch, the cool, gun metal against his and Cassandra's temple feels tangible with every syllable pronounced. Harming himself is one thing, this is entirely another. So, Rust doesn't know if he'll ever forgive himself as he looks at Ginger and says,

'Let me do the honours,' carefully taking the blade from Ginger as to not spill any powder. As he holds it under Cassandra's nose, she looks like she might cry. A shaky exhale blows some powder off of the blade, coating Rust's dark jeans in it,

'Don't fuck around, baby. Inhale the goddamn stuff,' Rust says, voice stiff from anger and tension. A trembling hand comes to press her other nostril shut, those same raw nail beds he first noticed in his truck, driving her to that crappy diner. She takes a jerky inhale, like a kid would; trying to imitate how she's seen people snort a line on TV. Those same trembling hands come to hastily brush away the powder smeared around her nose. It's not enough. If Rust is going to have to do this to her, he wants her so far gone that she won't have to deal with any emotions apart from complete ecstasy during the act itself. He wonders momentarily if it's more unethical to drug her up even more, to strip her of personhood and bodily autonomy more than he and Ginger already have, but pushes the thought away. What part of any of this is fucking ethical? He grabs the block and digs out some more powder with the blade, before taking it on his thumb and roughly smearing it against Cassandra's gums. Much to Rust's revulsion, Ginger and the other Crusaders laugh gleefully, like little boys throwing stones at dogs, all over again. Cruelty as entertainment. Only this time, the dog is Cassandra. She blinks hard a few times. This is the coke, Rust thinks, The molly will take another half hour. Rust wants to get her out of here, minimise the degradation. He pats her thigh,

'Let's go to a backroom, baby. See if Ginger is all talk 'bout this shit.'

Cassandra stumbles up, a thin sheen of sweat starting to gather on her temples, pupils blown out. Ginger and the other Crusaders let out jeering laughter, tinted with unmistakable hunger, as they watch Rust stands up and land a heavy smack on Cassandra's ass, as his says,

'Right down there, baby. First door on the left.'

Some Iron Crusader who reeks of beer and day-old sweat shouts behind them,

'Fuck off some of her baby fat, Crash!' and Rust makes a promise to himself to make that fucker swallow his teeth when this is done.

The coke is making Cassandra jumpy as Rust pushes her into the backroom: just a mattress on the floor and some random lamp next to it. It looks like the set of some fucked up, illegal torture porn movie. Not too different from what actually goes on in here, with the sounds he hears and the way some of the hookers emerge from the door. Rust briefly feels a pang of guilt for having to screw Cassandra in this room, on that mattress but he quickly pushes the arrogant sanctimony of the thought away. Who the fuck does he think he is? What truly separates him from those other men? Neither of their girls had any choice in the matter, not really. Prostitution is a way that men can justify abusing and objectifying vulnerable women just to get their dick wet, by paying them some cash. What choice do you have when you're 17 with a raging Crystal addiction, two cents to your name and a home that you'd rather fuck a truck driver for a twenty than go back to? He hasn't given Cassandra a choice, either. She's now pushed him against the door, the drug throbbing hot through her veins, as she sloppily licks and kisses at his jaw,

'Fuck, Crash, I can fucking feel it,' she bites at his neck, the coke making her agitated, ravenous. He pushes her back,

'Just take off your shorts and underwear. This is gonna be fast, baby.'

Cassandra gives that defiant, little pout,

'I don't want it to be fast. I want you to take your time, be mean like you usually do.'

'This ain't like usual.'

'I know. I'm so much wetter than I've ever been.'

Rust clenches his jaw so hard that the vein in his temple starts to protrude,

'I ain't fuckin' playin' games, here. Take off your shorts and underwear, and lie down on the goddamn bed, Cassandra.'

She stares at him cooly before peeling off that thin leather jacket followed by her tank top, and then throwing her top at Rust's face,

'You made me take it.'

'I know I did.'

'Yeah, you did. So, the least you could do is fuck me good, like you usually do,' she says, stumbling out of her boots and shimmying out of her shorts which she dangles on her foot, before kicking them in his direction, too. Now in just her bra and panties, she sits on the edge of the mattress,

'Please.'

'I'll fuck you however I want. Get on your hands and knees, Cassandra,' Rust says, unbuckling his belt. She does as he says, too eagerly for his liking, as she arches her back: deep and low,

'Please, please, Crash,' and from this angle, he can see that wetness she was talking about; making the thin, grey polyester of her underwear dark and shiny. He palms it roughly, the stress and repulsive nature of the situation making him cruel,

'I'd keep that shit to yourself, Cass. This wet and I haven't even had to work for it?'

She moans, too far gone to feel any embarrassment,

'I'm always wet for you. I've been like this for the past two days.'

'Too proud to just suck it up and let me fuck you, hm?' Rust says, moving her panties to the side to see the glistening slit. Just the feeling of the cold air on her dampness has Cassandra arching her back even deeper and whimpering,

'Please, please, I'll take it anywhere you want me to. Even-'

Rust clamps his hand over her mouth,

'Don't.'

When he lets go, a small string of spit follows Rust's hand. Cassandra has desperately unfastened her bra, the sweat on her body starting to shine and drip. This is the Molly kicking in, Rust thinks. He grabs her throat, pulling her up from her hands and knees, to where she's on her knees with her back pressed against his chest. A calloused hand reaches down into the waistline of her panties and down to caress her swollen heat,

'Never in my goddamn life have I had pussy this eager, This the drugs or just you?' he mutters into her ear.

'The drugs,' Cassandra says back, just to be her usual incorrigible self. A futile task with how she's soaking through her panties and rubbing her ass on the hardness in his jeans. Rust lets out a deep, rumbling scoff of laughter at his girl's incessant need to be a pain in the ass and plunges a two fingers deep inside of her,

'Bullshit.'

The sudden feeling of being filled up is almost too much for Cassandra's ecstasy riddled brain to reconcile with. Everything is so sensitive, so swollen with blood and heat and chemical euphoria. She squeezes and pulses around his fingers,

'Crash, if you move, I think I'm gonna have to come,' she gasps out.

'This ain't about that, tonight.'

Spoken too late. All Rust was trying to do was ease the pain of the stretch, allow her that mercy, at least, but that's enough for Cassandra, who lets out an obscenely load moan, writhing against where he keeps her firmly in place, on his chest. Rust hums pensively,

'You make a mess and you're gonna have to clean it up, baby,' he murmurs, shoving his soaking fingers into her mouth before pushing her back down to being on all fours,

'Hold still.'

She hears him unzip her jeans and shuffle around behind her, as aligns himself to her slit,

'You're not even gonna get undressed?' she says, too out of it to sound really hurt as she tries to ease herself onto his dick.

'Like I said, this ain't gonna be like we usually do it,' Rust grits out, not wanting to make this any closer to what real sex should be.

One firm hand holds her hip still, while the other pushes on her lower back, making her back arch and her face press into the mattress. Cassandra thinks it's for the sex appeal, Rust knows it's cause her can't look her in the eyes as he does this: fucks her while she's out of her mind on the drugs he forced into her. Some twenty year old girl, living with him, helping him shave when she can't take the stubble burn on her thighs and throat, cooking her terrible, lumpy pancakes and leaving him some in the fridge for the ungodly times he gets back. This kid, no mascara or lingerie or practiced 'tough girl' ease can hide the juvenile trust in her eye as she looks over her shoulder,

'Please. It kinda hurts. Just fuck me and make it stop. It's so....much.'

Rust could be sick as he pushes herself into her heat and she fucking whimpers. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping; he's being too rough. He can see the poor thing desperately gripping onto the soiled mattress as she grips onto her hips, leaving more bruises. Good. Let it hurt. I want to see it. Don't let me forget what I've done to her, Rust thinks. Cassandra opens her legs wider and sinks deeper into the mattress, practically limp from pleasure except for her hips which firmly meet his thrusts and the trembling of her thighs. A shaky hand comes to rub the nub at the apex of her thighs,

'Jesus-fuck,' she chokes out, a tear dripping down her face as her first orgasm hits while Rust is still inside of her. The stretch of him compared with the intense pulsating of her walls becoming borderline painful. Rust clenches his jaw, not one to succumb to tight pussy that easy. He runs a hand up her spine, along the smooth outlines of her vertebrae,

'You need to eat more, baby,' through a grunt.

'There's-fuck-there's no fucking way you're lecturing me right now,' she gasps out, squealing when Rust's hand slips down from the base of her spine to caress her little nub, himself.

'No, no, it's still too sensitive,' Cassandra says, trying to squirm away. Rust isn't in the fucking mood, though; just wanting to keep her drunk off of sex and drugs until he makes himself come as fast as possible, and get her the fuck out of here.

'Shut the fuck up and take it. I ain't askin' you to do a goddamn thing but lie there and fuckin' take what I give you,' Rust mutters, voice thick with exertion and the crescendo of his orgasm.

'But-'

A loud smack on her ass shuts her up,

'Stay. Still.'

And she does, letting out lewd moans as he fucks into her, watching her arousal literally drip out of her. His course hair semi-rubbing against her clit is enough to bring Cassandra to come as Rust reach his own orgasm, grunting and wallowing in self-disgust as he watches himself seep out of her. The sight, had it been in another circumstance, would have probably turned him own: the milky fluid running down those tanned thighs. In this case, it only cements that anti-natalism that has started to permanently solidify itself in his psyche. That an act as brutal and exploitative can qualify as the origins of a pure, innocent life which will be subjected to similarly brutal and exploitative things. Fuck it. Fuck this goddamn filth and squalor of a world. As he stands up, pulling up his boxers and jeans simultaneously, Cassandra is lying crumpled on the mattress. As if the seduction of drug induced stupor has been ripped away, she reaches between her legs and scoops up the mix of their arousals, wincing slightly due to the extreme sensitivity. The copious slick coats her fingers and Rust is unsure of the vacant expression on her face; usually, she would've made a show of licking it off, slowly and staring him right in the eye. Now, she bursts into tears. Rust doesn't know what to do but dress the poor girl. She's fucking terrified, he thinks, She doesn't want a hug or a kiss, she needs to feel some semblance of control, again. Slowly, he eases her off of the mattress, trying to ignore the stab in his gut when she initially flinches.

'Easy, easy, baby,' he murmurs to her, for the second time that night.

He slides on her underwear, cleaning up the trail of his cum with a pack of Kleenexes that Cassandra keeps in her pocket, another devastatingly intimate detail that only amplifies his self-loathing On goes the rest of her clothing: shorts, bra and tank top, all the while with silent tears running down Cassandra's face. Rust guides her out of the room, pressed tightly against his side, as he guides her through the heady haze of cigarette smoke and acrid sweat on leather balsam that characterises the Iron Crusaders' clubhouse. Some stare, others wink at him or smack him on the back in congratulations, no doubt at Cassandra's tear-stained face and shaking legs. She keeps twitching and rubbing at her nose, the drugs fizzing in her nose are probably turning her capillaries to mangled, bloody sludge. Rust reminds himself to give her a towel tonight to staunch any possible nosebleeds. The air is cloying and humid when they exit, like you could eat it with a spoon; while the nocturnal sounds of cicadas and bullfrogs paint a deceptively picturesque scene. Rust leads Cassandra over to the Harley, going to ease her leg over the seat before she sharply interjects,

'I can do this shit for myself.'

'I know you can,' Rust replies, stiffly but in a soft tone.

'I can do this shit for myself and handle myself, I-I can-' her train of speech, almost a mantra, is cut off by big shuddering sobs. Rust looks her in the eye and sees that 18 year old again, showing up to the strip club for the first time in a freshly washed set, smelling of fresh cotton, with a need to make rent, that 15 year old knowing that if she wears that dress to the mechanic he'll probably give her a discount on her daddy's oil change, money that can go towards keeping the lights on, that 10 year old girl sitting on cold bathroom tiles at 2am, telling herself that her daddy won't hit her cause he's her daddy. A girl who has always known how things need to be handled and has no qualms about getting her hands dirty in the lurid shit expected of a young girl at the mercy of poverty and men.

'I know,' Rust mutters, getting on himself, and guiding her to wrapping her arms around him. It doesn't surprise him when she holds on for dear life, wrapping her arms around his torso and taking deep inhales of the smell of his biker jacket, as the engine rumbles to life. This tranquility lasts for a couple minutes before Cassandra is digging her nails into his neck, shouting Pull the fuck over against the wind. Rust obliges and watches as she scrambles off to vomit on the edge of the road, crumpling to her knees in the process. He doesn't get much closer, watching her cooly from the Harley which is parked on the side of the dark road. After a few more retches and dry heaves, Cassandra turns to regard him over her shoulder, still hunched on her knees. A look in which Rust sees hatred, fear, rage and a morbid sense of almost respect. She spits the last remnants of sick out into the foliage before speaking,

'I don't know who the fuck you are, Crash, and I don't want to know. You read all those fucking books, you never talk about yourself, you ain't like the other Iron Crusaders. I can see it in your eyes when they spew that chauvinistic, white supremacist bullshit that you can't fucking stand them. You have your own twisted and oblique set of rules for yourself which you never deviate from. You ain't a fucking biker, not like these ones.'

Rust looks at her cooly, 'You threatenin' me with somethin', Cass?'

'No. I told you: I don't want to know. Only thing it's gonna do is get me into deeper shit.'

'So, why are you telling me this?'

'Cause I want you to know that I ain't stupid.'

'I know you ain't stupid, Cass.'

'And I ain't okay with what happened tonight.'

'Neither am I.'

She starts to work herself up again, her breaths becoming fast and shaky, 'I ain't safe here. I ain't never been safe anywhere but I definitely ain't, here. Tonight proved that.'

'Tonight proved a lot,' Rust replies, a trace of self-loathing evident in his tone, 'I'm a bad man, Cass.'

'I know.'

'So, what the fuck are you doin'?'

'I don't give a fuck if you're a bad man. I've spent my life around them. I just need to know that you'll keep me fucking safe. That's it. I just need to know that you can keep all those other bad men away, like those tonight,' she's now crying again, voice thick with it as she asks,

'Can you keep me safe, Rust?'

Rust looks at Cassandra, taking a look at her pathetic form and plea. He recalls reading something that Nietzsche wrote: eternal return. Does he want to do this action an infinite amount of times, into perennial continuity. He knows his answer, what he wants to reply an infinite amount of times over, he has a duty here,

'Yes.'

[stark-reading-mad]

The storm doth creep ever closer

177 days to go.

Make notes on Judicial review of administrative procedures - Principles and Modes.

Make notes on chapter I, II, III and IV of Law of Torts - Ratanlal and Dhirajlal

Read through Chapter 1,2 and 3 of the Law of Contract - Avtar Singh

[elseishollow]

✶┈ CAPPUCCINOS — WES GIBBINS.

synopsis: stressed out law school students. based on the prompt “  i already said that. ” “ yeah but if i cared i would’ve listened to you.  ” by corvase.

pairings: 2L!wes gibbins x fem!reader

warnings; nothing but fluff and banter because he could NOT catch a break for anything.

"I already said that," you remarked, frustration evident in your voice as you flipped through the pages of your notes for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Yeah, but if I cared I would’ve listened to you," Wes sarcastically retorted, a playful grin spreading across his face as he leaned back in his chair.

That stupid grin. It was enough to make you want to throw your highlighter at him.

You rolled your eyes and let out an exhausted groan, resisting the urge to give in to the frustration that threatened to consume you.

"This is the worst. Like, this actually might be the end of me," you complained, feeling the weight of exhaustion bearing down on you.

Wes deadpanned, "Okay, stop being melodramatic. We've only been at it for five hours."

"Five hours??!" you exclaimed in disbelief before a sad attempt of catching yourself, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as you processed the amount of time you'd wasted.

"Why yes, Wes, thank you for that observation," you replied, sarcasm dripping from your words as you fought to maintain your composure. "It also happens to be five hours that have stripped the only small amount of dignity I have left in me."

Wes let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the quiet library, before his expression softened, his tone shifting as he leaned in closer.

"You know," he said, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "I heard if you stare at tort law long enough, it starts to make sense."

"You're horrible," you muttered, though the corner of your lips twitched upwards despite yourself.

"And yet, you love me still," Wes replied, his gaze meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart flutter.

"And I love you still," Wes continued with a boyish grin, his words hanging in the air between you.

tease.

“Oh, stop," you said with a slight smile, leaning back in your chair to try and hide the sudden rush of warmth to your skin, your gaze flickering to your watch. "We still have an hour and a half to grasp this."

You picked up the heavy textbook with a resigned sigh, the weight of the material feeling heavier than ever before.

"The rest of our lives is in this book," you mumbled, your voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

"We're the cause of our own misery, unfortunately," Wes replied, his tone light, as if acknowledging a simple truth.

—

“..so?”

“I failed the test. miserably.”

“same.”

silence fell between the two of you.

“..great minds fail alike, I suppose.”

your lips pressed into a straight line as you wryly glared at him, your expressions saying it all - not the time, wes, really not the time.

[feeshies]

Okay since I did pretty well during my first year, I feel like I can share my law school Study Hacks

(May also be applicable to non-law school studying)

Disclaimer: these are tips from someone who is okay with being average-to-decent in law school. The jobs I want aren't the ones where you have to get straight A's your first year. If you're looking to get into BigLaw, I can't help you. Also I didn't really study in undergrad (I only enrolled in classes where I could write a final paper instead of taking an exam), so a lot of these tips I had to learn on the fly. If you have a technique, stick with that. Also (x2) I have ADHD, so I had to come up with a technique which worked with that.

I'm mostly making this post because before law school, I fell down a lot of study-influencer rabbit holes, and I found myself feeling self-conscious that I couldn't get my study habits to look that neat and "aesthetic."

Part 1: Setup

Step 0: Get a big whiteboard.

This is the first thing I bought when I moved into my apartment and it's my favorite possession. Listen, planners are nice. I used planners all throughout undergrad. But that's just because I didn't have the space for a big whiteboard. The big whiteboard is not just where I put my assignments, but it's also where I plan out my week (we'll get to that)

Step 0.2: Get a smaller calendar whiteboard.

I have a smaller whiteboard that functions as a calendar. I don't put due dates on this (unless it's a major due date or some kind of school event). Not really relevant to studying, only to show that I separate big due dates from my everyday study tracking. Trying to cram everything into a normal calendar can make it easy to overlook important stuff.

Step 1: Before the semester starts, color code all of your classes.

The colors can be completely arbitrary (I just used the colors that came up on OneNote).

For my first semester, it was:

Contracts: Blue

Torts: Orange

Civil Procedure: Black or White

Legal Writing I: Green

After the first semester was established, I was able to use this color association for similar classes during the second semester:

Property: Blue

Criminal Law: Orange

Legislation: Black or White

Legal Writing II: Green

These are the colors I would always associate with these classes. On my giant whiteboard, I would use different colored markers to indicate which class I was writing about (versus having to go "contracts: pages 12-50" or whatever. I could just write "12-50" with blue marker)

I already erased my whiteboard for the semester (another reason to do this: it's incredibly satisfying), but here's a recreation:

I have my reading assignments for each week organized by class (+ the due dates.) Then in red, I write down the number of pages I'll have to read in each segment. Whenever something's done, cross it off.

This is my weekly calendar where I divide up when I'll be reading and how much (plus other stuff I have going on that week). I also divide the reading evenly. If I have two days to read 28 pages, I'm doing 14 pages one day, and the other 14 the other.

This is because 1. If the assigned reading has a natural shorter and longer part, I'm going to do the shorter one first and put off the longer one because I am lazy and I don't care about sabotaging future me. If it's even, I can hold myself accountable. And 2. stopping abruptly can make it easier for you to get back in that same headspace when you continue reading. It's the same mentality behind that writing tip that stopping mid-sentence can help prevent writer's block, because your brain is good at filling in gaps. It's much less daunting than starting at a fresh topic.

Other things of note:

I transcribe the notes I take in class when I get home. I try to do this as soon as possible so I don't forget anything (jotting down specific examples or anecdotes raised by your professor can help you memorize the material more). I take my notes by hand (in a notebook color-coordinated with the class), and then I use OneNote so they're in a more legible place.

I also try to update my outlines every week. This was something I didn't learn until late first semester but I wish I knew earlier. You don't want to be scrambling to make your outlines the week before exams. I'll go more into outlining later.

I also don't do anything school-related on Sundays. Mainly because that's my cleaning day, but I also need a break. Try to set a hard boundary with yourself.

I'll go into more detail about my exact studying and outlining strategies in another post (plus exam stuff), but this was just about the setup and it's already too long.

TL;DR: color-coordinate your classes, get a big whiteboard, studying doesn't have to be pretty if it works

[shu-of-the-wind]

welcome to my pinned post! buenas tardes y bienvenidos, よろしくお願い足します！sut dych chi heddiw?

i'm alix, pronouns they/them/theirs. i am an attorney and i will not be giving you legal advice so don't ask. (this is different from asking basic questions about how the law works. asks will be answered on a case by case basis.) my specialties are family law, DV law (including nonconsensual pornography), human trafficking law both domestic and international, and US indigenous law but i also have experience in criminal and juvenile defense, child protection, youth law, immigration and asylum law, and mass tort litigation.

i write. you can find my fanfics here. you won't be able to see my fic without an AO3 account; i've locked things to protect my work from AI scoops. if you are here for swallows on the beam questions (including character guides), click here. if you're looking for the sotb tag, click here. sotb fanart can be found here. if you are here for other projects of mine, click here.

i study fascism, high control religions and organizations, conspiracy theories, the evangelical christian right, american legal history, and some other things for fun. i'm building a youtube channel to do this more consistently. keep an eye on this space for links. i'm also mid-construction on a podcast with a friend, so i will be posting links to that here as well once it's up and running.

日本語が話せます！y estudiando español pero lo siento, mis maestros eran salvadoreños, mexicanos, y puertorriqueños entonces mi vocabulario es muy variado. a dw i'n dysgu cymraeg.

i am also exploring conversion to judaism. i won't talk about it here much because religion is a very private thing for me. i'll tag what little i do post here. i absolutely do not tolerate any zionism on my page. if you are a zionist i do not want to associate with you. that being said, being jewish and being a zionist are not equivalent and i will not tolerate antisemitism of any stripe from any of my mutuals. antizionist jews exist. zionist goyim exist. zionism is an idea, not an immutable identity. regardless of whether i do wind up converting, do not fuck with my friends.

my patreon is under construction. my ko-fi is here.

recommendations for books, tv/movies, and podcasts. also i sometimes go viral which i find weird (anything over 450 notes is viral to me). my fandom mixtapes are here.

if you're here for my opinions, click here.

if you're here just to hang, hi!

[reasoningdaily]

2022 - Enterprise giant Oracle is facing a fresh privacy class action claim in the U.S.

The suit, which was filed Friday as a 66-page complaint in the Northern District of California, alleges the tech giant’s “worldwide surveillance machine” has amassed detailed dossiers on some five billion people, accusing the company and its adtech and advertising subsidiaries of violating the privacy of the majority of the people on Earth.

The suit has three class representatives: Dr Johnny Ryan, senior fellow of the Irish Council for Civil Liberties (ICCL); Michael Katz-Lacabe, director of research at The Center for Human Rights and Privacy; and Dr Jennifer Golbeck, a professor of computer science at the University of Maryland — who say they are “acting on behalf of worldwide Internet users who have been subject to Oracle’s privacy violations”.

The litigants are represented by the San Francisco-headquartered law firm, Lieff Cabraser, which they note has run significant privacy cases against Big Tech.

The key point here is there is no comprehensive federal privacy law in the U.S. — so the litigation is certainly facing a hostile environment to make a privacy case — hence the complaint references multiple federal, constitutional, tort and state laws, alleging violations of the Federal Electronic Communications Privacy Act, the Constitution of the State of California, the California Invasion of Privacy Act, as well as competition law, and the common law.

It remains to be seen whether this “patchwork” approach to a tricky legal environment will prevail — for an expert snap analysis of the complaint and some key challenges this whole thread is highly recommended. But the substance of the complaint hinges on allegations that Oracle collects vast amounts of data from unwitting Internet users, i.e. without their consent, and uses this surveillance intelligence to profile individuals, further enriching profiles via its data marketplace and threatening people’s privacy on a vast scale — including, per the allegations, by the use of proxies for sensitive data to circumvent privacy controls.

Commenting on the suit in a statement, Ryan said: “Oracle has violated the privacy of billions of people across the globe. This is a Fortune 500 company on a dangerous mission to track where every person in the world goes, and what they do. We are taking this action to stop Oracle’s surveillance machine.”

A spokesman for Oracle declined to comment on the litigation.

A couple of years ago the firm was facing class action suits, along with Salesforce, via a legal challenge to its tracking in Europe — which intended to focus on the legality of their consent to track web users, citing the region’s (contrastingly) comprehensive data protection/privacy laws.

However the European legal challenges, which were filed in the Netherlands and the U.K., have faced tough going — with a Dutch court ruling the suit inadmissible last year, because (per reports) it judged that the not-for-profit pursing the class action had failed to demonstrate it represented the alleged injured parties and so did not have legal standing. (Although earlier this year the organization behind the suit, the Privacy Collective, said it would appeal.)

The U.K. branch of the legal action, meanwhile, was stayed pending the outcome of an earlier class-action style privacy suit against Google — but last year the U.K. Supreme Court sided with the tech giant, blocking that representative action and dealing a blow to the prospects of other similar suits.

In the Lloyd v Google case, the court found that damage/loss must be suffered in order to claim compensation — and therefore that the need to prove damage/loss on an individual basis cannot be skipped — derailing the litigation’s push for a uniform “loss of control” of personal data for each member of the claimed representative class to stand in its stead.

The ruling was considered a hammer blow to opt-out class actions for privacy claims at the time — clearly throwing another spanner in the works of the Oracle-Salesforce class action’s ability to proceed in the U.K.

The challenges of litigating privacy class actions in Europe likely explain the push by digital rights experts to test similar claims in the U.S.

Oracle’s BlueKai tracks you across the web. That data spilled online

Oracle and Salesforce hit with GDPR class action lawsuits over cookie tracking consent

[fishklok]

Torts + Army of the Doomstar part 1

I looked for torts in the first half of the movie, but I figured I should get back to actually studying.

Note 1: Just because I raise an issue doesn't mean it would be successful in court. You have to bring up the shitty claims on exams too.

Note 2: A lot of the stuff in this movie/show probably falls more under criminal law. I wouldn't know because I haven't studied criminal law yet. This is torts so we're in civil law bay-bee. There is no such thing as guilt or innocence.

Note 3: AOTD spoilers lol

Intentional Torts

Battery: A volitional act in which one intends to cause a harmful/offensive physical contact (or put someone in apprehension of a harmful/offensive physical contact) and a harmful or offensive physical contact occurs. Depending on the jurisdiction, the intent could either be to cause harm/offense, or the intent could be just to make contact.

Pickles v. Toki (when Toki hit Pickles)

Edgar v. Nathan (when Nathan grabbed Edgar's face)

Nathan v. Charles (when Charles grabbed Nathan's face)

Murderface v. Salacia (all of the possession shit. The idea of him bringing a torts claim about it is just very funny to me.)

Pickles v. Skwisgaar (when they were doing trust exercises and Skwisgaar didn't move to catch Pickles. This could also be raised as a negligence claim if it can be proved that Skwisgaar didn't intend to let Pickles fall)

Assault: a volitional act in which one intends to put someone in apprehension of an imminent harmful or offensive contact.

Skwisgaar v. Toki (when Toki tried to hug Skwisgaar and he moved away)

False Imprisonment: A volitional act in which one confines someone to a bound space and that person is either aware of the confinement or harmed by it.

Crozier v. Orlaag (the interrogation scene. Like Murderface and Salacia, this feels like a funny claim to raise.)

Trespass to Property: A volitional act in which one intentionally trespasses onto someone's real property and that person is the sole causation behind the trespass.

Murderface v. Salacia (More possession shit. Because it's funny to me.)

Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress (IIED): When one intentionally behaves in a way that is extreme or outrageous in a way that causes severe emotional distress. This would have gone on forever if I wrote down every little insult, so I tried to find instances that could satisfy the severe emotional distress element.

Nathan v. that interviewer/host (Nathan had a mental breakdown after some of the questions asked. Although, he was already in a delicate place and I don't think Eggshell Skull Rule applies here. The host would have no reasonable way to know Nathan's condition and likely won't be found liable for the performance.)

Toki v. Pickles (when Pickles yelled at Toki)

Abigail v. Nathan (when Nathan proposed to her. No evidence of severe emotional distress, but it could be raised.)

Nathan v. Abigail (when Abigail rejected his proposal. More evidence of severe emotional distress, but still probably not that strong.)

The fans v. Nathan (when he "broke up with them." I only studied class actions for like 45 minutes in civil procedure, but I don't think this claim would hold up either.)

Dethklok v. Knubbler (when he yelled at them and destroyed their breakfast. This is the part where I should explain that IIED claims are notoriously hard to win.)

Negligence

Negligence is when a party has a duty, they breach that duty, resulting in an accident that they have both actual and proximate causation for and that resulted in damages.

The church v. Nathan (all the stuff he accidentally broke)

Knubbler v. the gong manufacturer (when the gong broke off the rope and send him tumbling down the stairs. Could also raise as a products liability claim)

Temple + Dethklok v. Murderface (when he pissed in their water supply. Could be raised to conversion (another tort I didn't explain lol) if he continued after knowing the river was their water supply.)

Temple + Dethklok v. Knubbler (when Knubbler accidentally knocked over that candle and started a small fire)

The estate of that klokateer v. Knubbler (when Knubbler rang the gong, causing it to break off and knock that guy off the cliff. While the gong manufacturer could be liable too, Knubbler would probably carry a larger proportion of the blame because he already had cause to believe that the gong was defective.)

All those people v. Dethklok (when they performed the wrong song. Since all of the deaths that occur can be linked back to that performance, they still have proximate causation. The Doomstar seems like a textbook example of a superseding cause, but since Dethklok had a duty to stop the Doomstar and the consequences were foreseeable, they're probably still negligent. Other possible tortfeasors in that chain: the airplane pilots, the truck drivers, the estate of that guy jumping off his diving board would be barred from recovery in a contributory negligence jurisdiction, at this point I started losing track of the deaths and just decided to blame Dethklok for all of it.

Strict Liability

Strict liability is when a defendant is automatically liable regardless of reasonable care, lack of negligence, or lack of intent. This includes wild animals and abnormally dangerous activities. As if this point in my notes, I haven't seen much evidence of either.

[caselaw-and-chai]

hey!

my name’s K, nice to meet you! i’m a uk student (currently in austria) studying law with german. this account exists to help me document and hold myself accountable to my studying.

i’m hoping to use this space to motivate myself, show notes, analyse case law, and make some study friends!

(there’s list of modules i’m studying/have studied under the cut)

📚📚📚📚

studying…. 📖

🌍 public international law

🌱 climate change in international and eu law

🕯️human rights law

🌎 international law and international relations

🏛️ history of international law

📊 comparative private law

already studied (uk law) 📕

📜 legal and criminal systems

🚨 criminal law

📝 contract law

🗞️ tort law

⚖️ equity and trusts

🏡 land law

(i’ll probably focus more on the law than the german half of my degree — but i do study both and some of my third year modules are taught and examined in german)

i hope to see you around!

[secretceremonials]

i analysed the cassandra myth from a modern english and welsh legal perspective because i’m drunk, bored, and procrastinating (maybe this will be a good revision exercise? 

Apollo v Cassandra: Breach of contract

i want to preface this by saying that i don’t fully study contract until next year, so i’m not going into detail here. apollo and cassandra do enter a verbal contract to provide the gift of prophecy for the service of sex (if we go with that version, which is my go to), so cassandra may well be liable for her breach. i would argue that this contract had unfair terms however, making it void to the extent of those terms. again, i don’t know enough about this to say for sure. 

Cassandra v Apollo: maliciously administering poison 

i don’t see any reason why apollo’s saliva that causes casssandra not to be believed can’t be interpreted as poison (we have case law of HIV infected semen being treated in this way). following this logic, his spitting can be viewed as maliciously administering poison, contrary to either section 23 or 24 of the offences against the person act 1861. for a section 23 offence, the defendant must intend to cause grievous bodily harm or endanger life. i’m not really sure that applies here, although cassandra’s mental state is possibly bad enough to constitute grievous bodily harm, it may be difficult to prove that apollo intended to cause this. section 24 would therefore be easier. this section simply requires intention to injure, aggrieve, or annoy. intention to punish would absolutely fall under here, i think. 

failing that, spitting on people without consent is a battery, so we definitely have a civil route if not a criminal one. it is worth noting that it absolutely is possible to pursue an action on the basis of the intentional infliction of emotional distress. injury does not have to be physical.

Cassandra v Ajax: rape or battery, depending on your favoured myth

In some versions of the myth, Ajax rapes Cassandra in the temple of athena as the city falls. in others, he drags her away in a massive breach of sanctuary laws. which version you prefer will alter what wrong has been committed.

If she is raped, it is... rape. crazy, i know. the statutory definition of rape is the penile penetration of another without consent or without a reasonable belief in their consent (sexual offences act 2003, section 1), which is what occurs here. they have sex, cassandra absolutely does not consent. easy.

if she isn’t raped, there is still a wrong, albeit probably a tort rather than a crime. the tort of battery is committed when an individual intentionally (or recklessly) touches another without consent. obviously this happens here. assault is likely as well. this occurs when the defendant does something to make the victim think they are about to directly and involuntary apply force on their body. this probably happens, but we don’t have enough detail to know for sure. we can maybe convict him of a crime instead, but this depends on what injuries cassandra acquires. i think it is likely enough that she would suffer actual bodily harm (a bruise or worse- we know the attack was violent), but grievous bodily harm is unlikely. If she suffers actual bodily harm, this is common assault, contrary to s47 of the offences against the person act 1861. 

Cassandra v Agamemnon: unlawful imprisonment

because slavery is illegal and i am completely ignoring historical context here, agamemnon most likely unlawfully imprisons cassandra. false imprisonment is confining an individual to a restricted area without their consent and without lawful justification. the only issue with proving this would be that i’m not sure if cassandra is really confined to a limited space? but presumably she has to stay around agamemnon? i think it counts.

Cassandra v Agamemnon: rape

it goes without saying that, in modern law, slavery is illegal. so, for the sake of simplicity, i’m going to continue arguing that cassandra’s enslavement is akin to unlawful imprisonment. obviously, keeping someone as a concubine without consent is very illegal, but we’ll ignore that for now. 

bearing that in mind, it is probable (but not certain) that Agamemnon rapes cassandra. As we have already seen, the definition of rape in the sexual offences act 2003 is the penile penetration of another without their consent, or without a reasonable belief in consent. as cassandra does, in some versions, have children, I am going to assume that her and agamemnon have sex. so now the question is consent. 

In section 75 of the sexual offences act, evidential presumptions about non-consent pop up in some cases. the effect of these presumptions is that non-consent is assumed, unless the defendant can provide some evidence that is “More than merely fanciful and speculative” that the alleged victim did in fact consent. one case where this occurs is when the alleged victim was wrongfully imprisoned by the defendant at the time of the incident. this means that agamemnon would have to provide some evidence of cassandra’s consent before a full trial would occur. this isn’t a particularly high bar, but it is something. 

we don’t know enough about cassandra’s state of mind to know whether she consented (she did consent to the marriage in Euripides’ trojan women, and until 1992, marriage was taken as an express form of consent- not super relevant, but interesting anyway), and honestly, given the context, agamemnon may have had a reasonable (in his culture) belief in her consent. obviously now we would not assume that a woman would consent to a man who took her from her home and family, but bear in mind that this is the bronze age. i’m also not sure if we should apply the reasonableness standard of a reasonable man today or a reasonable one then? recklessness is also subjectively measured now anyway, so he may not even have been reckless as to her non-consent.

Cassandra v Clytemnestra: murder

okay, this one is probably the easiest. In (basically) every version of the myth, Clytemnestra kills Cassandra. murder is the killing of another with the intent to cause death or grievous bodily harm. Clytemnestra intends to kill Cassandra. She does so. It’s murder, she will really struggle to access a defence here. There is no self-defence or necessity present. There may be some grounds for a partial defence of provocation as she is faced with her sexual rival, but I honestly doubt there is enough of this to warrant a manslaughter verdict. 

Conclusion

Cassandra deserves a break. i hope you enjoyed my silly little law exercise :)

[prolawctor]

Death in Relation to Tort| Law of torts Notes

Death in Relation to Tort| Law of torts Notes

Introduction The relationship between death and tort law presents complex questions about the survival of legal rights and remedies. Historically, the common law maxim “Actio personalis moritur cum persona” (a personal action dies with the person) dictated that personal actions were extinguished by death, both of the plaintiff and the defendant. This rule left little room for the family or estate…

[sentimentalslut]

2, 6, and 12 :) also congrats so much on being vape free for more than a week now!!! I’m really proud of you I know it can get hard

hey, thank you 💖 i appreciate it. it's Tough to quit but encouragement rlly does help

2. show us a picture of your handwriting?

enjoy my tort law notes 😬

6. what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

oh god. i think the worst part is people who think they're entitled to criticize you/make negative assumptions about you? the bad faith discourse? beleif that there is a Perfect Way To Exist and that any deviation from it needs to be redressed and shamed? sorry if that got too deep. also ads.

12. what’s some good advice you want to share?

don't talk to cops (even to be 'polite') unless it is clear ur being arrested/detained, in which case say, and i quote: "I am requesting an attorney and remaining silent." and then dont say SHIT. never waive your rights. never assume the cops will honor them.

dont lie to ur attorney.

test ur drugs. test 'em twice. whatever u think ur gonna take, take half. always tell paramedics what you've taken even if its illegal. test ur drugs a third time. get your test kits for free (look up public health initiatives near you). always have a sober friend to babysit. call 911 in case of an overdose. look up Good Samaritan laws protecting witnesses and overdose victims in your area.

carry narcan (usually free or with a small fee and available w/o a scrip in all 50 states and PR) and learn how to use it. learn the signs of an overdose. treat addicts like people. (because they are)

never pick up a cigarette or a vape. dont look a gift horse in the mouth unless it might bite u. never trust a cop.

[britany1997]

How do you write and do law school at the same time?

Hey thanks for the ask:)

Well currently I don’t lol.

Y’all probably won’t get anything new from me till I turn in my brief on Monday (maybe one fic but we’ll see)

Usually though it’s manageable. Right now I’m in Contracts II, Civ Pro II, Torts II, Property and Legal Research and Writing. My entire grade for the first four is based on the final at the end of the semester. (Someday I’ll explain the hell that is the law school curve if you ever wanna know) and my LRW grade is based entirely on my trial brief, appellate brief, and oral argument.

For everything but LRW the only homework I have is reading about concepts and briefing cases. For each week, I probably brief 5-6 cases for contracts, 8-12 cases for torts, 2-3 cases for civ, and 0-5 for Property depending on how much conceptual stuff we have. Property and Civ require a lot more concept and law reading while torts and contracts are pretty much straight case briefing.

It takes me about 20-30mins to read and brief a single case, and for plain reading I read about a page a minute with note taking (for estates and trusts in property it’s a little longer.) I usually knock out all of my homework for the week during my 10 hours working at the library. So during the weekends and evenings I have time to do any unfinished HW, work on flash cards, do HW for LRW, and write for y’all. So that’s how I do it:)

TL;DR: I read and write really fast and I don’t have an overwhelming amount of assignments most of the time.

[mourning-again-in-america]

Inspired by a recent (I assume) throwaway post from a popular leftwing blogger in these circles

Many people bemoan, in this age, various forms of disinformation, misinformation, malinformation, etc., but I think the best phrase that properly sums up the phenomenon is "context collapse", altho I would like to ignore the brouhaha that brought that phrase some popularity.

An example: Neal Katyal, a highly regarded establishment lawyer for the Democratic Party, who also does a bunch of high-dollar appellate legal practice incl arguing in front of the Supreme Court (not unsurprising, given his role as former acting solicitor general, see similarly Paul Clement), argued a case on behalf of Nestlé regarding a tricky and yet-unsolved attempted application of the Alien Tort Statute, which allows people who were harmed due to violations of international law to recover damages.

The alleged violation of international law at issue was the aiding and abetting of child slavery, child slavery itself being obviously outside the bounds of international law, but things are not as clear as to the precise inquiry required for aiding and abetting, for the simple reason that nothing is particularly clear in international law. That being said, Katyal did not argue that aiding and abetting was an insufficient theory of liability, nor did he argue that Nestlé's behavior failed to rise to the exact standard required under international law; nay, he argued that the American law should not be enforced in American courts for things that were done overseas by non-Americans (ish) to non-Americans, a rather popular and common form of argument in the modern moment, and about the liability of corporate persons (rather than natural persons) under the statute -- a complex issue given that this is about implied federal common-law causes of actions & their jurisdiction, arising under a statute passed by the First Congress!

But no, it is so much easier to simply say that Katyal was "defending child slavery", for indeed, his quality advocacy before the Court likely decreased the incentives pushing against the rampant use of child slavery in the Global South by USAmerican corporations, but this is just as true as the truth that zealous advocacy for murderers in front of a court will likely decrease the incentives against committing murder -- does that mean that we should condemn those who do so? We don't want more murder, we don't want more child slavery! But to that, I say that we should invest more in asymmetric informational weaponry, and occluding the truth, sweeping the complexifications I noted above under the rug hardly help in that project.

[hamsteriffic]

Help @samsimisauser ! I have gone down a rabbit hole, and much like Alice in Wonderland, need to have a good nap or am hallucinating.

I have found a few interesting things regarding the law in France and the hypothetical suing of Felix using Adrien’s image.

First up, there is no precedent law in France. While the US and UK and most other English speaking countries use common law which is based on precedent, the French use civil law, which means that the judges should not have any jurisdiction to make the law, they only execute the law. Seems pretty civil? [1] But since there are no real-life precedents of a possible sentibeing using your image for ill-intent we don’t really know what the outcome would be anyway.

So in the French civil code Article 9, or droits a l’image (Image Rights), protects your image from unauthorised use and covers concepts such as the right to protect one’s honour and the right to control one’s image [2]. The civil code has been extended over time and extends to privacy laws and more recently the use of your image in social media has also been added, which gives you the right to remove your image from Google or other platforms [3]. Other areas this may relate to may be printing of the person’s private life in the media [2].

For well known figures, use of their image is protected. For example, the use of famous French musicians Johnny Halliday and Sylvie Vartan or Gerard Depardieu have been protected. Exceptions for the use of your image may be freedom of speech or if your image is used for the purpose of parody or humour, as defined by Article 10 of the European Convention of Human Rights or the French Liberty of the Press, however significant hurdles and burdens of proof may be faced in the French court [3].

An example of how the application of the law can differ depending on your legal jurisdiction, Scarlet Johansson had successfully sued a French author for the use of her person in a book. If this was under American law, this would be covered by the first amendment, however under French law personality rights are taken seriously [4]. Since there is no humour or parody involved, this work would also not be covered by the exception.

Another question is if Adrien’s image is a trademark [6]. Natural objects cannot be trademarked, including humans and faces. Unless Gabriel Agreste can give an example as to why Adrien is actually a design and not a person, then that point stands. As such, a celebrity’s person is therefore again covered by personality rights.

Nevertheless there is marketability in being a celebrity and other aspects of celebrity culture, such as endorsements. As such, the US has publicity rights which grants a celebrity to merchandising monopolies, however this is not the case in UK or Australian law [6] and this issue as far as I can tell remains murky under European law and member states [7,8].

As a side note, in the UK and Australia for example, the celebrity may use the tort of Passing off, which can be used in the case of unauthorised use of their image, leading to misinformation and loss of trust in their brand [8].

The exception to this trademark rule in regards to the face lies in distinctiveness. Similarly, the European Union IPO has granted trademarks for the use of photos of people / portraits without text in the past (think Colonel Sanders) [9]. This faces a higher burden of proof to establish if a persons image is a characteristic that gives substantial value to goods. I would say in the case of Adrien’s face and it’s association with the Gabriel Agreste brand that it would be easy to define.

However would Felix’s own face be seen as his own and not Adrien’s? In the case of impersonations, it is recommended that the use of images of public figures must be clearly indicated that these are impersonations to avoid confusion [2]. Moreover, if the private figure has not received consent, the public figure may be liable to receiving compensation [2].

I haven’t taken into account the fact that Adrien is a minor, but his image was used with the consent of his parent(s).

This was fun! Happy to hear any other thoughts on this.

Sources

[1] https://verfassungsblog.de/dr-law-discoverer-and-mr-law-maker-the-strange-case-of-case-law-in-france/

[2] https://digitalcommons.lmu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?referer=&httpsredir=1&article=1366&context=elr

[3] https://www.mondaq.com/france/trademark/1053964/parody-defense-and-ip-enforcement-in-france

[4] https://www.theguardian.com/film/2014/may/14/scarlett-johansson-sues-french-author

[5] https://www.plass.com/fr/articles/marques-et-droit-limage-une-decision-reconnait-la-validite-dune-marque-de-lue-constituee

[6] Weathered, Lynne. (2000). Trade Marking Celebrity Image: The Impact of Distinctiveness and use as a Trade Mark. Bond Law Review. 12. 10.53300/001c.5359. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/27828639_Trade_Marking_Celebrity_Image_The_Impact_of_Distinctiveness_and_use_as_a_Trade_Mark

[7] research-collection.ethz.chhttps://www.research-collection.ethz.ch › ...PDFExploiting publicity rights in the EU

[8] https://www.mdpi.com/2075-471X/3/2/181

[9] https://www.lexology.com/library/detail.aspx?g=684d0a57-8d70-4f95-b4f5-cc218c8f6354