#corpsmxn

[shzm-archivedaf]

@corpsmxn

         an odd concoction of embarrassment & frustration at himself left a weird taste on his tongue. an occupant of sorts that he’s quick to wash free of when uprighting himself from the makeshift bed. after nearly getting injured within an active warzone. “where is this --- i mean this place! where?”

[weaponiized-humanist]

( have you ever meme ) Have you ever pulled a prank on your fellow soldier(s)?

In Vietnam, he tried to pull off the deception that he had fellow soldiers, that he was one soldier among others, but his association with the Company, with CIA, was obvious. No one in the battalion impugned his courage, no one doubted he would fire his sidearm. But there was a vague sense that he was here electively: not a draftee, but not a volunteer either, something else. The men wouldn’t have said it this way, but they suspected he had other exits, and a place waiting for him in a boardroom somewhere with wainscoting and claret. Now, in Iraq, he tries to live in accordance with what he thinks is the truth: that he is not their fellow soldier, not one soldier among others, but a vile opportunist or craven functionary of some sort, of a sort much worse than they, and that his compromises set him apart. But these new men will not have it; cynics and hedonists and brothers, they embrace him as one of their own. 

But Doc wouldn’t want to hear it. He’s not unimaginative, he’s got a greater ambit than short-sheeting or selling a “scorpion” in an empty matchbox, but he’s already let Milo know he has a short fuse for existential quailing and high mopery. 

“No,” Milo says to Doc.

*

“have you ever” meme | acceptingSᴇɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴍᴜSᴇ “Hᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇƦ (…)’S.” Tʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴏɴʟʏ Ʀᴇᴘʟʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ‘ʏᴇS’ ᴏƦ ‘ɴᴏ’.

[medicband-blog]

@corpsmxn

stuffy. his throat scraped from the constant ridding of phlegm blocking his pathway to breathe. there’s a little head shake as his fingers curl into a fist as if salvaging whatever warmth his COLD HANDS can furnace. “it ain’t too bad,” his claim leaves his mouth , laden with fair enough conviction as he looks elsewhere.

[vitriiol]

Far be it from him       to complain. He’s got blisters on top of blisters on top of blisters. But so what? They all do.       Part of the job description. Living with the pain.       Even so, he can’t help but grimace just a little, flexing his toes inside his boots and hissing at the sting.  

@corpsmxn

[jrperson-blog]

@corpsmxn liked.

“christ !! think i’m catching the smell of ass. no .... wait. worse than ass. i think my eyes are stinging. fuck.”

[shiftied-blog]

( six word starters ) “ this isn’t any of your business. ”

@corpsmxnsix word starters - accepting !!

words transpire but don’t soak in. they fall away from shifty’s barricaded compliance. it’s a line draws between considering , that , yes , shifty has no inclusion & should abide , to  NO WAY , NO HOW —- & the sharpshooter falls onto the latter. his persistency flares , acts as coal to feed the flames of adamance that illuminates his eyes. grants him a harder look that’s normally corroded with the softness of his usual gaze ( but this situation doesn’t read USUAL ). there’s a new found determination & he plants himself to the earth with no intention to leave. 

   “no , bryan —” a head-shake that doesn’t follow with a sheepishly-dipped face, “i believe it’s plenty of my business. he’s my friend & you oughta tell me.” 

[weaponiized-humanist]

( starter meme ) 'no touch'

The Green Zone always had an eerie effect on Milo: everywhere he looked he saw future IED victims—-and in the near future too. He’d look at Marines on liberty, eating fried chicken or bowling ten-pin or driving go-karts, and he kept seeing their happiness frozen in time, in that split second before everything was lit up by a bomb’s flare.

His fear wasn’t rational, strictly speaking; security here was tight. But this doubled consciousness, framing every moment in a future anterior retrospection, made him terrible company.

He reached for the bar on the exit door at the same moment as another man. Maybe the other had had enough of this weird Disney vibe too.

“After you,” said Milo, and stepped back as a Marine wearing a sand-camo bandana opened the door. Together they walked out of the chilly artificial Mall-of-Baghdad climate and into a world seemingly even more unreal. As if all the heat of the Syrian desert had come down upon them like a sword, and struck them dumb.

Milo turned to the Marine. He was about to trade a commonplace, maybe about its being a dry heat, when he saw the man’s eyelids fluttering.

The man didn’t drop slowly or crumple. He fell like a tree.

Meme | Accepting 

Send ‘no touch’ the generated outcome will be used for a small drabble or starter.

18. Your muse falls unconscious; mine tries, or doesn’t, to revive them.

[weaponiized-humanist]

( book meme ) 📚

“Don’t dawdle, man. We don’t have all day.”(Black Sunlight, Dambudzo Marechera)