Mick showing his support for Keith during a press conference about Keith’s court case sentence, of which he was arrested a year previously as he was pulled over in his Bentley for reckless driving during the Stones’ European tour, and found with cocaine and LSD on his person. The results were he was found guilty for possessing cocaine and fined €750 plus court costs, but not guilty of possessing LSD, 1977.
AU. Jungkook is your cop boyfriend, and you decide to sit with him and learn about his latest case at four in the morning. Genre: Fluff Words: 1337 A/N: A little fluffy drabble to celebrate my new side-blog, perhaps!?
So I was catching up on the latest season of Drugs Inc. and couldn’t help but be a bit surprised by the complete difference in attitudes/tactics with the police in America (top gif) and the Australian Police (bottom two gifs).
Every single Police raid in the American episodes the cops are wearing more body armor than half the worlds special force troops and are fully kitted out with assault rifles? Seems like a bit of an over kill.
Meanwhile, the Aussie cops are dressed in fucking jeans and casual t-shirts, no helmets, no body armor and half of them aren’t even bloody armed, one copper is literally just holding a search warrant (I also rarely ever hear the American cops bust into houses during their raids yelling out “Police, search warrant” which I’m guessing they either don’t need to do or more likely just don’t give a fuck about following protocols.)
Why do so many American Police officers/departments think they are more than they actually are? If they so badly want to wear full tactical gear and be all guns blazing why don’t they just join the Military.
The alley is dark and it’s hard to see any light, that’s why you have to familiar with the streets once you enter here. There’s a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, as he hears the sound of someone clearing their throat behind his back. As he turns around, he spots a familiar face; there are shadows of darkness around him and they only eye each other. The man in front of him is clearly older; at least seven-ten years older and the amount of tattoos and wounds on his skin is giving him terrified look, but Khalid is one of the few people who dare to look him in the eye. They say nothing, when the mysterious man hands him a small, foil package. He hands him the right amount of money, before watching him disappear. Khalid puts one of his hands in the pocket, together with the package as he turns around; that’s when he spots another familiar face, the one that shouldn’t even show up here. “What are you doing here? C’mon, it’s not safe – let’s go.” His voice is strong, as he takes a puff of his cigarette.