#officer-chen

[heprofiles]

“I VOW

               TO PROTECT 

                                     AND SERVE.”

[cochetsharpshooter]

What’s Your True Position

Taken from X

Bucky’s Position

Tagged by: @but-boomerang-arrows

Tagging: @ofxarrowsandknives, @atombombblonde, @heroesbeyondtheninerealms, @spekiasynja, @officer-chen, @crowncdlegends, @driftingmcses, @thexsummerxsoldier, @superserumed, @hollywoodsdevil, @saviare, @yoursaviourhasarrived

So...um...yeah.  I am just going to leave this graph here....

[justthecameraguy]

Did Not See That Coming...

closed starter @officer-chen

     “Oi’ know ma...oi’ posted it yesterd---aye, yesterday. Ye should get’ i’ soon. Aye, oi’ got me remoi’nders set. Oi’ll call o’few minutes for he gets home so oi’ dunna miss i’...”

There’s a roll of his eyes. He’s been stuck on the phone with his mother for--he checks his watch--going on hour two now. And he doesn’t even want to think about the long distance fees had he not picked unlimited. A snag of an energy bar and a mineral, in place of the lunch he missed. Not his fault. Deadlines are closing in. Things always get busy and stuff that shouldn’t get pushed to the side, does. EIther way the items are shifted to the counter. 

       “Ma...ma--hold on...oi’ go’ta pay.”

And there’s an exchange of card and receipt and back again. The bar and sugary drink placed into the bag on his lap and he’s wheeling himself out of the way to the door. One that the person coming in has the good grace to hold open for him.

        “Thanks....Alroi’ght Ma what did ye...oh aye. Aye tell Gran’da oi’ got that shot o’ the beach he asked for. He’s goin’ ta lo--”

And that is about where his entire day...goes quite literally side ways. And a bit violently at that. The jolt of the initial impact maybe not quite as bad as it could have been, but there was enough force and...apparently enough body that when said body went topsy turvy over him...the centrifugal force had dragged him along with it. And he hits the pavement with a grunt and clang of his chair. His phone sent flying off into the street and straight into a sewer catch.

         “....ow.”

[pricklesandthorns]

                                               to PROTECT                                                                and                                                                      SERVE

[ronmanmob]

Saturday afternoons at The Sole Trader, Bethnal Green, were typically busy affairs. Be it the kick-out from Saturday workers or just the local rabble in for their off-day pint and a natter, there was always plenty going on; always plenty to see and listen in on and soak in as a new face to the establishment. It was a corner pub, was The Trader - a large bar and a smaller snug, as customary in British pubs of a certain tenure, taking up its lower floor and living quarters filling the upper. The outside was brick with large windows letting light in. Along its edges were planters and hanging baskets -  full of flowers all year round. And within?

Punters,  everywhere. Some  clustered round the  darts  board for a game. Some by the pool table. Some playing chess on a little travel  board they’d brought with them. All lively. All chattering and most, seemingly, personally  acquainted with  the gaff’s proprietor who was thumbing through the day’s newspaper while sitting on his favorite stool by the bar.

It was all, ‘Y’alrigh, Ron?’

All, ‘Good t’see yah Ron!’

All, ‘Appy Sat’day Ronnie!’

All of that for him, and he spared a grin for it - feeling as welcome in this place he owned as his patrons did. Among the crowds two mastiffs roamed; security and tenants of the place both. They each wore the harness of a working dog - sign enough to the folks they prowled through to keep their hands and sarnies clear of them for the duration of their stay. It was only Ron who could lay hands on ‘em during their shift hours, and he did now, as a new face fought her way to the bar, to shift the larger dog - Claude, tall and black-pelted - out of her way.

‘Scuse ‘im’ Ron said by way of apology. ‘F’gets ‘ow big ‘ee ‘is, this’n.’

@officer-chen

[hxppykiller]

“How would you like to be full of holes?”

Now Happy had his fair run in with the law. It probably didnt help that he was wearing his cut when driving through the town. At this moment with the young cop pointing a gun at him, Happy hadnt actually done anything illegal.

"And why would shoot me? I havent done anything." He asked her, as he sat on his bike, his hands on the handle as he stared her down.

[childhealcr]

@officer-chen liked for a random noun starter !!

    ↪ word: video 

in order to see what really happened to the child, because of the web of lies the friends had been telling, the austraillan doctor was in need to find out what exactly happened, and why this fourteen year old boy bearly hanging on. time was of the essance, so he had no choice but to get the cops who investigated the scene, and hope to find out more information. maybe even a video. he was told the officers were on their way to the hospital now, so he asked on of the peds nurses to inform him when they did arrive. ❛ officer chen. ❜ he greeted with a smile and a nod. ❛ i was hoping you have information about what happened, or even a video. we can't properly treat him until we know more about what all happened, and his friends aren't helping. ❜ he said with a sigh.

[ronmanmob]

Cactus Fruit Sorbet, Phish Food, Vanilla Fudge Ripple

This here meme!

Cactus Fruit Sorbet

Got that’n here for yah <3

Phish Food

‘…If our lips should meet Innamora’a…Kiss me, kiss me sweet Innamo-AUGH!!’

A towel to the face shut off the crooning of an auburn haired young chap who, mid-flow and sizzling with romantic intentions, had seen fit to lean over the Trader’s bar and touch Ronnie. With his hands. In public. 

‘I’ve f’kin told you, shite-’awk’ the publican snapped, dusting off the arm his amorous guest had deigned to latch onto while he ruined one of Ron’s most favorite songs. It’d take a lot of effort now to unhear grasping Ted’s effort in place of Dean Martin’s warm and inviting tones when that particular record came on again. ‘Don’t want y’ands ‘n don’t appreciate bein’ sung at ei’vah. Push off now. S’a work day.’

The red-head, for his part, just grinned and touched a finger to his lips.

Shhhhh he mimed.

Ron’s shoulders twitched with discomfort.

Vanilla Fudge Ripple

Rare was the stock take day that Ronnie didn’t muck in with the working lads he employed around The Trader. He wasn’t the hands off sort of boss; wasn’t a from the front leader. He worked with his lads (and occasional lasses); rolling barrels, dusting, cleaning, sorting, list ticking, making, finishing; always at ease with hefting kegs. Not even thinking about it and what his being able to do that - to shoulder loads like that without much thought - said about how strong he was. It was just a flicker in his day. A drop in the ocean. Something to be vaguely confused by when it was used as a compliment by one of those self-same working lads.

‘Yer well strong, boss’ he said.

Ron  blinked. ‘Yes’ he replied, like  it was  obvious. Because it was to him.

It took about three hours for the fact that that lad had been flirting with him to register. That  thought kept  a smirk on the  boil for  the  rest of  his  day.