( » » black diamonds. )

Realizing it is my choice and my choice alone to be a Reconnaissance Marine, I accept all challenges involved with this profession. Forever shall I strive to maintain the tremendous reputation of those who went before me. Exceeding beyond the limitations set down by others shall be my goal. Sacrificing personal comforts and dedicating myself to the completion of the reconnaissance mission shall be my life. Physical fitness, mental attitude, and high ethics—The title of Recon Marine is my honor. Conquering all obstacles, both large and small, I shall never quit. To quit, to surrender, to give up is to fail. To be a Recon Marine is to surpass failure; To overcome, to adapt and to do whatever it takes to complete the mission. On the battlefield, as in all areas of life, I shall stand tall above the competition. Through professional pride, integrity, and teamwork, I shall be the example for all Marines to emulate. Never shall I forget the principles I accepted to become a Recon Marine. Honor, Perseverance, Spirit and Heart. A Recon Marine can speak without saying a word and achieve what others can only imagine. Swift, Silent, Deadly.

[resourcesfortheavergaeroleplayer]

Send 🎶 and I'll create a mini playlist (3 - 7 songs ) for our muses relationship

[capwilsons]

“After that, I had a really hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know?”

[perscverance-blog1]

kirycku:

While the country club had impressive resources, many things still lacked there. They didn’t have much space at all nor did they have a generator like many other camps did. Truthfully, none of that mattered as much as their large quantity of blind spots and with only one patrol member – Ada – it was a lot to take on. There lay a lot of Adalene’s shoulders. She was the only patrol at camp after Mark left and while many others helped out and took their own patrol shifts, Adalene still felt like she needed to be doing more. She took the safety of her camp seriously and with so many of her friends inside, a lot needed to be done. Having been on the South side of the camp, walking the perimeter of the entirety of camp, she noticed Nate eyeing the rusty fence.  

She hadn’t really gotten the chance to spend much time with him. He seemed a quiet man, Red following beside him, and he wasn’t sure if it was his son or relative or even someone he knew before the outbreak hit. Honestly, both of them were quiet and with Ada’s outgoing nature, she never wanted to bombard their new leader with too much at once, especially having recently taken over the position of camp leader.

She greeted Red with a smile and small wave before continuing her way to Nate, glancing at the section he was talking about. “Definitely.” She nodded, sighing softly. It felt like every time they secured a section, a new area needed to be fixed. With Mark gone, it was hard getting it all done on time. “I’m the only patrol left so I might need some extra hands helping.”

Adalene, the only patrol at their camp. She was a good girl, head firmly on her shoulders and wielded a wicked blade. Nate was sorry for her, he knew how she was feeling. Like the whole world rested on your shoulders. The tension he saw in her eyes was the same he felt when he felt like he was the only competent leader in a patrol or a position. He watched, shoulders turned towards her and his complete attention on her, as she admitted that she might need help.

“Anytime you need a break, come and get me.” He then called Red down off his perch. Watching the boy until he was safe and sound on the ground, he knelt down as he drove his Ka-bar into the rotter’s skull as it pressed against the chainlink in an effort to follow Red’s feet. “I can fill in for those extra hands. Marines make do, and most of my duties were patrols. You’ve always been the sole patroller here?”

[perscverance-blog1]

rencgacle:

      anthony knows something about being he knows he it. he doesn’t stay at camp long, leaving soon after he’s dropped everything off that was requested or needed. he hardly knows his camp mates past  . there are friendly conversations here and there, face value at best. it’s not odd now for people to not talk about their past, and so he doesn’t suppose dancing around it makes him weird. leaders though, they’re tricky. anthony understands them to think they’re on a need to know basis. is nate like that? it’s safer for him to assume so rather than not.

      anthony knows something about being caged – he knows he dislikes it. he doesn’t stay at camp long, leaving soon after he’s dropped everything off that was requested or needed. he hardly knows his camp mates past  ‘i’m heading out, anything i should grab’. there are friendly conversations here and there, face value at best. it’s not odd now for people to not talk about their past, and so he doesn’t suppose dancing around it makes him weird. leaders though, they’re tricky. anthony understands them to think they’re on a need to know everything basis. is nate like that? it’s safer for him to assume so rather than not. 

      days are beginning to drag on. with more daylight, he’s seen less frequently; more light, more time, more supplies to haul back. a simple explanation, really. soon, weeks will go by before he reappears. this three day trip, however, is reasonable enough even knowing the seasons; hordes made travel difficult enough that waiting out was the better option. checking daily seemed smart, it’d get him out as soon as possible. for the most part, he’s made trips out of the camp without communication. fine by him, fine by everyone else – they haven’t complained anyway. today, he’s dragged into a conversation. nonchalance finds him: his shoulders drop, he tries his best to look pleased despite feeling inconvenienced.

       ❝  sure,  ❞   he shrugs.   ❝   i don’t see why not. ❞  where he would have preferred to leave it there, he decides reasoning for another side is the right path.   ❝  think it’d be less taxing on us all if you just put people on watch here – it’s your camp though,  so.  ❞   tore down and built back up or under watchful eyes? both are fine, neither affect his lifestyle. he doesn’t care enough to feel passionately about the condition of their walls. 

He passing hunter had clocked on his radar the first day. Something seemed... off about the man. Nate still wasn’t sure what — aside from usually long trips outside of the camp and a lack of connection with the rest of the country club which, within the continuum of behavior in the goddamn zombie apocalypse, wasn’t all that strange. Maybe he just had a suspicion of guys who had the same sort of nonchalance as the worst commanding officer he had ever encountered. Nate considered Anthony suggestion but quickly discarded it.

“I would rather have less people out here when this fence tips over or breaks and instead expend the effort to re-enforce or replace it.” He brushed his finger tip along the chainlink, coming away with a heavy layer of rust coating his fingertips. “I’m thinking replace.” He pulled out a weapon that had been slid into the fence by one of the other camp members, driving the kitchen knife tied to a iron pipe into the skull of the rotter on the ground. “Hey, are you heading out? Add something to your list: more knifes for these wall weapons. We need more. And keep an eye for... I don’t know construction sites or someplace with fences. Mark them down for us to go over later. Sorry to load you with things to do, but I still have stuff to sort out here so I can’t go out and do it myself.”

[wilsonpatricks-deactivated20191]

[baawri]

[risingphoenixpress-deactivated2]

i, like the stars, know what it means to be devoured from the inside out. i know what it means to be on fire & not emit any light. here i am / trying to be less volatile, less violent. i’m saying that

Eliel Vera, A short list of stars that died this year, published in Rising Phoenix Review  (via risingphoenixpress)

[perscverance-blog1]

( » » tasks | 028 ; case file. )

Full Name: Nathan Toussaint Harper.

Preferred Name or Nickname: Nate.

Known Aliases: Toussaint, Sergeant, Sarge, French.

Date of Birth: August 2, 1978.

Current Location: Cheyenne, Wyoming. ( Cheyenne Country Club. )

Previous Locations: St Cloud, Minnesota. New Haven, Connecticut. Miami, Florida. Oceanside, California. ( Major locations that he has resided, pre-outbreak. ) Various locations in Iraq. ( Military deployments. ) San Diego, California. Las Vegas, Nevada. Salt Lake City, Utah. ( Locations visited, post-outbreak. )

Arrival Date to Cheyenne: April 19, 2017.

Duration of Stay in Cheyenne: 1 months, 4 days. ( As of May 23, 2017. )

Kill Count — Human: Unknown. ( Multiple, at least 20 but not more than 50, all killed while on deployment. ) 

Kill Count — Infected: 1,946. ( Estimated at a two every day kill count with 973 days passed since the outbreak. )

Current Inventory: Ka-Bar knife, Glock 19, backpack, water bottle, three powerbars, flashlight, lighter, notebook, pen, fire starter, compass.

Open to Trading: Yes, because there are few traders at the Country Club camp so he is willing to lend a hand at their jobs.

[neutral]

my life is a little bit of ?? with a bit of ¿¿ and some !! with a lot of …

[perscverance-blog1]

seclusicn:

No matter how many times she’d looked down and seen blood freckling her brown skin ( like the mist coming off the Pacific Ocean at the rocky Oregon coast; a gentle spattering of blood that carried the weight of tangible memories ) Nik had never grown used to it. Sweat beaded on her upper lip and trickled to the small of her back from between her shoulderblades. The day was not remarkably hot, but the weight of the pack combined with the mileage she’d put on over the course of the day had taken its toll. 

The cool water of the lake was baptismal in its ability to refresh and renew her. Cupped hands brought the cleansing water over her face and Nik closed her eyes, exhaling soft and slow through her nostrils as it swept away the grime and beads of sweat. Footsteps broke the harmonious reverie of the small oasis and she turned sharply, reaching for the strap of her rifle across her shoulder as eyes searched for the intent of the speaker as if it were worn plainly across a face she could not quite make out from the distance. “Washing my damn hands.” The words came slow and cautious, her tone cut with an edge of incredulous annoyance. “You own this lake or just greedy about hand hygiene?”

With how fast the figure turned, they were human. Nate’s grip on his Kabar tightened because he considered the living humans to be more dangerous than the dead ones. However his grip loosened so much he dropped the knife when the person spoke out. He remembered his hands, warm and wet with the red gushing from his friend’s neck, his fingers pinching closed the vein as he screamed at a random Navy Corpsman ( ‘Marines make do’ especially when higher ups are fucks up and don’t send enough medical personnel ) ‘What the fuck are you doing? He’s bleeding out here!’ only to have her reply ‘Washing my damn hands, you don’t want more germs in his neck for him to die a week later from a blood infection.’ Same exact tone, same exact inflection. Same exact hands.

“Jezi mèrdik Kris la ... Èske w se yon revenan?” His first words were breathed out in shock, an entire other language leaping to his lips as he stepped bonelessly forward. The last time he checked in on Nik, her father answered and said she was in rehab, and that was just before the outbreak. Nikita Charles had to be dead, yet here she was alive. He regained his strength a second later. “Nobody owns a damn thing now, Doc. You’re alive and that’s enough to own.” He paused, an incredulous laugh escaping him as he ran a hand over his lower face. It felt like the first real laugh anyone had pulled from him that wasn’t Red — and still it felt like he was ripping teeth out. These days didn’t lend well to laughing. “It’s good to know you’re alive. Unless my mind is fucking with me right now.”

[c-ptsdofficial]

anyone else feeling like the living embodiment of ‘ugh’

[woodmeat]

this is just my unprofessional opinion but fuck all that shit

[yynneessmons]

[jjabramsed-deactivated20120618]

[plumspucked]

[flawlessgentlemen]

The choices that we make through our lives, the people who intersect us on our path kind of change what our fated destiny is. So some of us are lucky enough for the choices that we make to keep us on our path.

[plumspucked]