god i HATE the way crime shows aggressively push the idea that only guilty people (or occasionally innocent but morally repugnant people) want lawyers when talking to the police.
it’s one of the most harmful lies on tv honestly because it encourages real people to waive their right to counsel making it vastly easier for cops to take advantage of them, lie to them, railroad them etc. regardless of your guilt or innocence, if you’re suspected of a crime, you need a lawyer.
this is literally how thousands of innocent people end up in jail/prison because cops have a strong as hell confirmation bias and will use tricky language and leading questions to either get you to confess or admit enough fault to convict. people have been sent to death row over this shit. ALWAYS get a lawyer.
Omg if I had a real keyboard and not my phone right now, the tales I would tell. The fact that police have tried to argue silence shows guilt or the fifth amendment doesn’t cover body language, make me speechless with rage. Also if you invoke fifth amendment rights it doesn’t mean they have to stop talking/questioning you. You have to invoke fifth amendment and Miranda rights (right to council). Once you say you want a lawyer they can’t continue. But you must invoke with each officer. Officers don’t have to share that you invoke with the other officers. The national layers guild and there know your rights trainings are indispensable.
my dad works for the white house and he just told me that apparently the government banned kissanime on the white house wifi cause officials were watching it like, a noticeable amount
wait, I just mentioned this to him again and he said “no, they didn’t block kissanime from the White House, they banned it from the entire Department of Defense”
One day in
the future, a girl will ask of her maybe-father definitely-teacher
(one is likely; the other is a certainty; she calls him Master
because she wants no other family than that she has chosen): where
did Skywalker come from. And
the Master will say from my father he was a great man and
a terrible one and – and the
girl will shake her head, chew her lip, say, did he choose
it and the Master will frown (a
pucker between his brows; a corrugation of his lined, weatherbeaten
face) and say, no his mother chose it
and the girl will say who was she and
the man will say a slave on Tattooine; my uncle’s
brother’s second wife and no
more. He knows no more. Don’t blame him.
Do
not blame the teacher-before either. You knew him as an old man, old
and strong and lonely, but once he was a boy with a snake-tail of a
braid and an empty space under his heart where love once rested. He
watches his Master die and he tries to shoulder a burden that is
absurd in its immensity. Train
the boy who will save everything.
Imagine that. Imagine. And, yes, he says this
boy must come with us but
remember: the Force is endless hunger, an animal. It isn’t willfully
cruel – no more than the ocean. But if you do not learn to swim,
you die. If a boy strong with the Force is not trained, he will
surely perish.
(or worse. There are horror stories.)
Blame,
perhaps, the council, so anchored in their ways that they do not
permit the child to see his mother. Blame, perhaps, the Jedi so
ancient and so wise who take their Chosen One and tell him that he
can save the universe and all he loves, blame them who take a nine
year old from his mother and give him weapons to hold instead of
hands. Fight
fight fight but only when you are told to. Kill without mercy when
we say otherwise show limitless mercy. Do as you are bidden always
and forever. Save everything. Master your feelings. Have no
feelings.
From
my point of view the Jedi are evil! –
what are those but the words of a lost, stupid boy, trusting only
in the fierceness of his own heart and the iron surety of his
convictions.
Blame
the boy. Maybe. After all: this was his choice. He did not have to
listen to older and wiser heads that said go
to war and afterwards tend to your mother.
He did not have to cut down children. He did not have to.
Children. Definition: the youngsters of any race. Before the
younglings in the temple there were the Sand People, the tiny ones,
J'Wratha and Taraka and those are only two, sliced apart in front
of their mother. He was damned before the temple. Do you
understand?
If
you do not: we return to Shmi. And here she is:
Here is how
it does not happen: Anakin Skywalker dies. Fluid mouldering in his
lungs, internal organs collapsing into puddles of useless rancid
slurry, blood thickening with toxins – but he dies at peace, he
dies with his eyes wide open, he dies with his son (his beloved and
only boy) crouched over him and he wakes on the other side with
softness and light gracing his unscarred brow, his wife at his side,
flowers twisted in the starlit curls of her hair.
This is how
it does not happen: the ghost of Anakin Skywalker is a thin, flimsy
thing, coming to life here and there, always bright blue, always
smiling, offering paternal advice to those who would listen.
This is
another thing that does not happen: Rey sees a strange man cresting
the red dunes and she never sees his face, only the brightness of
his eyes, and she is comforted – for she does not know his name,
only that he is a kindly force, only that even in the feral iron
heart of Jakku she is watched over.
Here is
something that does happen: “Listen to me, you bastard, you
bastard, you have to listen –” and Kylo Ren does not hear.
Rather: he chooses not to hear. He is meditating. Sunmatter dances
around him, catching on the flick-curl of his blackened cape. Well.
He thinks that it is sunmatter; this is what Snoke has told him it
is; and so this is what he believes; and of course it is not
sunmatter but the fire-bright venom of Anakin Skywalker’s ghost.
He’s not white-blue and delicate. He is burning.
Of
course he burns:
he’s full of fury and everything I died for you are
unmaking and if you
want I will tell you how it feels to die drowning in your blood I
will tell you and if
you lay a hand – a finger – on my
children, my darlings, then grandson or not I will show
you –
“You
tore down every I built!” Padme
screamed, when she saw him for the first time. His mouth
half-cooked. His body spectral and quivering. And his lovely wife –
no longer delicate and pale as a shivering lily but quicksilver and
burning, bright as Alderaan falling into dust. Livid spots of colour
on her cheeks. “You burned my diplomacy! I loved you but Maker
above – I loved the council just as much – my sweet children
were torn from my arms – I loved you so much and you destroyed
everything I loved –”
My
darling –
I love
you –
You were
everything good in my world; the only good thing in my world –
Skywalker,
Skywalker, she
had said, that is
the – that was the problem –
So here is the boy Anakin Skywalker, skin full of fire, and his
afterlife is anything but easy.
You
wouldn’t,
his son says to him, slack-jawed with horror, he’s
your grandson, he’s –
He’s
destroying everything I built. You know I once knew a good woman.
And she watched as someone she loved burn all she loved down. And
she let him live. And I won’t make her mistake. Do you understand?
You’re
not Vader anymore; you don’t have to be so ruthless,
Luke says, fretful and old and when did he become so old? Why does
he look so much like Kenobi, bent-backed against the assault of the
Force?
“This isn’t Vader,” says Anakin Skywalker, “this is all me.”
And it is true. He is a soldier. He is the saviour of the known and
unknown world. He was torn from his mother’s arms and given a sword
to hold instead of a hand. How else could he grow up? How else could
he die?
Listen
to me listen to me listen to me he
snarls in Kylo Ren’s ear and with each day the boy listens less and
Anakin tries less. He is dead and he is furious and perhaps this is
hell; this irony. He tore down Padme’s love and her lifework and now
he must watch a sickly imitation of Vader do the same to his love,
to his life.
Kylo
Ren will, one day, lift his lightsabre against his mother – or his
uncle. The blow will never fall. Anakin will pour his fury and fire
and limitless power into the boy’s skull and burn him from the
inside out. One day, the Knight of Ren will attempt to fufill what
he thinks is Vader’s legacy. One day, he will learn – too late –
that Vader is nothing, nothing, nothing compared to the anger of
Anakin Skywalker.
Imagine if Alya and Marinette got into an argument because Alya was tired of Marinette never facing her fears and talking to Adrien. So Marinette, enraged and determined to prove Alya wrong, storms over to Adrien and says “You wanna go?!?”
It’s only after Adrien nervously chuckles and hesitantly backs away that she realizes that she forgot the “to the movies with me” part of her sentence
Aliens invade Earth and everyone finds out that they’re actually huge nerds who fall in love too easily and really love cats.
See now this is great because it basically implies that the aliens invade Earth, guns a-blazing, and STOP DEAD the first time they see a cat and do the standard “OOOOH FUZZY THING” coo and drop their guns and the cat’s owner comes out and makes friends with the aliens and suddenly the invasion turns into…like a very large parade with a lot of cats and alien affection.
Okay, curse you all, now I have all sorts of headcanons for
That One Where Padmé and Anakin Are Pen Pals.
So Padmé gives Anakin her com frequency before he leaves
Naboo at the end of TPM, because she cares about this kid and she wants to make
sure he’s all right, and she doesn’t know that the Jedi non-attachment rule is
going to mean he’s not supposed to keep in touch with her at all.
When she doesn’t hear from him at first she figures he’s
probably really busy, settling in and starting his Jedi training and all that,
so she gives him time.
But when she still doesn’t hear from him eventually she gets
worried and shoots him a quick message, basically just “Hey how are you?”
It takes him a while to reply and when he does it’s not
anything Padmé was expecting. “The Council says I’m not supposed to talk to you
because you’re an attachment, like my mom, and I have to let you go if I’m
going to be a Jedi. But I want to
keep talking to you. You’re my friend.”
So now Padmé’s all righteously angry so she says, “Well to
hell with that. You’re my friend too. So how are you with encryptions?”
And Anakin sends back some super goofy winking space emoji
and he’s like, “I grew up in the Quarters we have a secret language and also me
and Kitster had a code I’ve got this.”
