cpos

Wed, Bed, Behead || Minnie & Devran

Anxiety had never been a problem to her. But ever since her family had introduced her to her future husband, Minnie couldn’t help but fear what would come next. Yes, it was an honor to be the chosen one to marry the King, but it wasn’t her choice. Her father was so happy when he got the news that he had chosen her, her mother cried, and her brothers, trying to hide the jealousy they felt seeing her under the spotlight, encouraged her to smile and be thankful.

And when she met him, on the few times she actually saw the man who was becoming her husband, she behaved graciously, charmingly even. But she was scared. Terrified. Her life had been nothing but a quick blur, no big events, nothing interesting or devastating, and then suddenly she was chosen by the King of Spain to be wed. Spain! She was moving to Spain! A completely different country, a different language…

Breathe, the girl told herself, whispering quietly as she stood behind a big set of wooden doors in a beautiful light blue dress with small golden details, and a delicate veil, just as the doors opened, revealing a large decorated room, her soon to be husband standing all the way down the corridor formed by a crowd impeccably well dressed. And before she could do anything stupid, something like running away or shedding a frightened tear, Minnie took in a deep breath, tried to seem as relaxed and gracious as she could, a small smile resting on her lips, and began her walk down the isle, reaching the King’s side and keeping her eyes focused on the priest before them. 

@the-rare-kind

Police Shooting in Anaheim

Ok. I just saw the footage of cops shooting at protestors. Well, Where to start? This is history repeating itself. We saw nearly identical situations in the 1960s when black people were sanding up for what they believed in. The cops came, shot, abused, and released dogs into the peaceful protestors.  Of course in this case it was another minority group. The Latino people.  As a Latino or Hispanic (whatever you wanna call it), I am not surprised to see cops acting this way towards a minority group. I mean, I have seen a group of white people and black people get arrested in which ONLY the black people got the metal handcuffs and the white people got the plastic binding thingy (i have no idea what they’re called.) You see The cops are not here to protect and serve us the mass population. They are here to protect and serve the owners of this country. They want to keep us in line. Keep us from getting a piece of the cake. Well, fuck ‘em. Fuck the police and the rich white cocksuckers that own this (what was once beautiful) land.

The Raven || Minnie and Bran

Legend said that there was a man who could turn into a raven lurking in the woods. Some people had reported seeing him, others blamed him for the devastation of crops and the abduction or death of their loved ones. No one knew for sure what he looked like, only that he had bright blue eyes that could make a soul bleed fire. The only thing people were certain of, was that he was dangerous, a monster, a demons sent from Hell to haunt their lives. Every men was advised to not venture themselves in the woods late at night, every woman would not go near it even at daylight, and every child had nightmares about the Raven.

Including Minnie.

On a cold and foggy night, the redhead woke up from a terrible dream in which she was being chased by the Raven. Sweating and panting, Minnie looked out the window at the moon, her whole body shaking. She left her bed in desperate need of air, and although every instinct in her body, as well as every rule set in her life, told her not to go outside alone, especially during the night, the girl left the manor, her bare feet touching the cold and wet grass as she tugged at the robe she wore on top of her gown. Minnie walked around aimlessly, trying to calm herself, but for some reason, she couldn’t stop crying. The redhead didn’t realise that she was, in fact, still dreaming, and actually sleep-walking to the edge of the woods, her mind creating the illusion that she was still in the Lockwood grounds, until it was too late.

When she came to her senses, her green eyes searched her surroundings for a way out, but all she could see were tall trees and dark branches. She shivered violently, the cold air stabbing her bones, the fog making the air seem heavier. A shadow moved a few steps away from her, and maybe it was just her imagination, but she froze in place, wide eyes staring at that spot in pure fear. The girl took a small step back, and as she heard, or thought she heard, the sound of a breaking twig, a small gasp fell through her lips. And before she knew it, she was running, tears rolling down her face as her feet harshly met with the cold ground, plants, twigs and rocks, her robe falling open, revealing her nightgown as she tried to see where she was going, tried to run from whatever was after her, tried to find her way back to safety.

Minnie ran like she had never ran before. Her arms moved in front of her body, a few cuts and bruises forming on her skin as she struggled to breathe. She never saw it coming, though. She wasn’t looking down as she tripped on the roots of a large tree, and the last thing she could see was the ground approaching her, a desperate scream of terror leaving her mouth before she fell into darkness.

adsagsona

Rule #5-0

Today I saw what in my eyes, has to be the single greatest moment ever witnessed in the history of our universe or anybody else's for that matter.

Two teenagers where being escorted by a Plastic Copper carrying a sign that they’d tried to half inch. Then as they came to a corner they both looked around and slipped inside a pub. Needless to say the community support officer was non the wiser and carried on in ignorance. I hadn’t the heart to tell him, or to stop laughing.

Rule #5-0: Feel free to ignore and antagonise community support officers at any given opportunity.

There are a few things that in light of researching (by which I mean reading a wikipedia page) I would like to mention. Firstly, as of April 2007 there was a reported 13,500 of them in England and Wales, Northern Ireland’s budget being unable to afford them(by which they mean, not retarded enough to include them). If this is the case why are they EVERYWHERE!? I’m fairly adamant that they are neither Ninjas or the Magic Bus you see in Manchester City Center, so can not be in two places at once, although I’ve not finished that wiki page yet so who knows…

And secondly, why the illumines(SP?) yellow jackets? Why are you not trying to hide them so they can catch villains, another argument in my CPOs are not Ninjas argument.

Okay, I hear you they’re so visible in order to ‘prevent’ crimes as apposed to catch those committing them. To which I rebuttal,

They have no more rights in regards to crime stopping than you, me, or your average caped vigilantly do. We can all place someone under a citizen’s arrest, which I think pretty much consists of sitting on someone and calling 999…

TO WIKIPEDIA!!!

Ok apparently there are some fairly reasonable requirements to make a Citizen’s Arrest, my personal favorite being

“The person absconding before a constable can assume responsibility for him”

Which basically means if you see someone running away from a copper, feel free to practice your most ostentatious rugby tackle on them. (also I totally just spelled ostentatious without a spellchecker!)

So basically CPO are just normal members of the public who like to give people a piece of their mind and wait for their 15 minuets of fame. Which we see in local news papers crop up from time to time, when they actually do something.

Look at Scotland,

“I kicked a burning Terrorist so hard in the balls I tore a tendon”

That was a fricking Cabby! No need for special officers just let the public deal with the public, Also a point to my Scotland is the coolest nation on earth argument.

To this end I think that these bright yellow jackets are in fact to raise awareness, but not to deter people, just to point out that these people are for all intensive purposes, getting payed to be 'Good Citizens’.

And while the notion of being paid for being a good citizen is nice, unlike police officers who’s duty it is to act, CPOs work at their own discretion.

Ok here’s my disclaimer for this rule,

CPOs can actually do some pretty annoying things, such as taking your name and address, confiscating alcohol off you and issues fines for a number of offenses. Most of them don’t do this because, as I’ve pushed throughout this, they are regular people, but like most things you get the occasional Jobsworth (See Rule #8: People who will ruin your day) who will use and in some cases abuse their powers in order to take out their own inadequacies against you. Luckily if you contest a fine in writing they will pretty much just drop it anyway, Unluckly (for me anyway) England is the most watched Nation on earth and pretty much everything is on a camera of some sort :/

Also I guess I should say that CPOs do actually help us and that they are a valued part of the community……………

Yer…

Pride on the Sound

Read now on Ao3

He’s not sure what he’s doing here, pressed against a crowd of barely-clad bodies, but Dean knows it’s definitely Jo’s fault. He’s got smudges of multi-colored paint on his arms and more glitter than a kindergarten all over his everything. The crowd cheers as another group marches by, singing songs and throwing gummy dicks and boobs into the crowd. Jo catches one and pops it in her mouth, turning back briefly to grin at Dean before leaning forward again to lose herself in the crowd pressing against the barriers and the back of the cute redhead she’s been chatting with since they got there. Eva? Anna? Whatever. Jo’s the one who got CPO Walker to grant them leave from base today along with a handful of other sailors just assigned to Kitsap. He and Jo had served together when they first enlisted, down in San Diego, but had been assigned to different ships for the past few years. It’d been a shock to see her cross the mess at Kitsap, but Dean would be lying if it wasn’t damn good to see her. She’d introduced him to Adam, who’d served with her at their last base in Yokosuka. And today she’d roped both of them and a kid named Kevin into coming down with her. “You can’t miss your first Pride in Seattle!” she’d said across the table one morning. Dean had been too tired to argue, so here he is in a colorful, sweaty mass of people covered in rainbow paraphernalia.

Despite the abundance of naked, painted chests around him, Dean can’t help but be glad for the fitted white tee Jo let him wear. She’d also insisted on the pair of jeans that “make your ass look amazing, jerkwad,” which he’s regretting if only because of the heat. There have been enough appreciative looks that he can’t be too mad. He grins as Jo sways further into the red-head, letting himself get caught up in the noise. He whistles as the Gay Men’s Chorus tromps by, singing “We Are Young” and accepts a fabric lei and a kiss of the cheek from a troupe of drag queens with coconut bras. Marriage equality is a thing and he’s going to enjoy the hell out of being surrounded by people as thrilled and relieved as he is. The crowd surges and knocks him off balance and into a solid chest. Grimacing, Dean looks back, apology half out of his mouth, only to see the most striking man he’s ever seen. Dark hair spiked with sweat, piercing blue eyes and a kind smile—and he’s shirtless, of course, exposing broad shoulders and firm arms. “No worries,” he says, squeezing Dean’s hips –how did he miss those hands—before stepping back again. Dean can’t help but smile back at him before turning back around.

This time, though, he’s aware of the presence behind him. Tall-Dark-and-Studly stays close, obviously so if they weren’t in the middle of the heart of Pride. The crowd shifts enough that Dean finds him more to his side than at his back, darts sideways glances to see the joy on the man’s face as he whoops at a passing float. A redhead throws her arm around his shoulder and screams, “That’s my girl!” and the woman in massive sequined wings at the top of the float grins and waves at them. The redhead whoops again and the man laughs. Dean can’t help but stare as the sound reaches him, snapping out of it when he realizes the redhead is grinning at him. She winks before turning back to the parade.

He blushes and ducks his head only to find Jo staring at him too. He rolls his eyes and she sticks her tongue out at him before waggling her eyebrows in the universal “tap that” signal.

Ignoring the signals from both of the girls, Dean tries to focus on the parade again. It’s a river of sequins and spandex in every color possible, on every body possible. It’s beautiful. As he sees a couple of men crying as they kiss, he finds himself aching for the kid he used to be who had no concept of Pride or that he was anything other than broken or wrong. Shaking his head, Dean looks back to find Tall-Dark-and –Studly looking at him seriously. Dean shakes his head and smiles, but the man says “Do you need water?”


“Uh,” Dean stutters, blindsided by the simple question. But it’s hot and now that he’s mentioned it, Dean is getting overheated. “Yeah,” he says, ducking his head in thanks.

“C’mon,” the other man says, grabbing Dean’s wrist and leading him out of the crowd.

“Whoa, wait a sec,” Dean sputters. “I have-“ he says before realizing that Jo has the bag with their water bottles and she’s now a crowd of people away.


“Here,” T-D-&-S says, handing him an ice cold bottle. He’s already handing the vendor a five before Dean can catch up with what’s happening, cracking open a bottle of his own.  “Hydrate or die.”

Dean barks a laugh and takes a deep gulp of water before saying, “Thanks.  You didn’t need to do that.”

“Probably not,” TD&S says. “But, now I get to talk to you. So, I’m taking that as a win.”

“Uh,” Dean chokes, turning red.

Grinning the other man holds out his hand, “Castiel Novak, Medical Student.  Very concerned with the hydration of the cute man in front of him at Pride.”

“Dean Winchester,  IP1, Navy. Thankful for medical students concerned with hydration.”

“IP1?”

“Ah,” Dean swallows. “Information Professional, Petty Officer First Class.” He winks. “At your service.”

Throwing his head back, Cas laughs. “Are you now? Well, I have some strategies we could go over. At my place?”

Licking his lower lip, Dean says, “I think I can help you out, Doc. Least I can do after you came to my rescue.” He shakes the now-empty water bottle before grabbing Castiel’s and tossing them into the nearby recycling bin. They walk down the street, smiling at the crowd and handing out high fives to those that ask.

As they turn off the main street, Castiel says, “Call me Cas.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir?” Cas pauses midstride to look at Dean.

Dean winks, “Medical personnel are commissioned officers—above my rate.”

“Interesting. And do you take orders well?” Castiel leans close, crowding Dean against the parked car behind him.

“I guess you’ll find out.” Dean smirks and Castiel all but growls.


Yeah, Dean’s not sure how Jo got them there, but he’s damn sure he came. Best Pride ever.

Suede in the Shade

Suede in the Shade

There’s a duality to late spring days in the Northeast. The bright sun makes midday a warm affair, yet night is very cool. Having the right mix of layers is crucial. I started off with the linen button down. I liked the mahogany shade, even for the spring. I went with the classic, slim chinos and layered over the look with a suede CPO jacket. Whether a stroll through Boylston St during the day or…

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