#platoon

[stargiirl27]

nobody loves fictional dead soldiers like girls on tumblr

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

[azertyrobaz]

And I still wanted to be an actor.

Source

[one-time-i-dreamt]

A platoon of soldiers wearing black uniforms and fluffy pink bunny ears were laying siege to my house at the command of a female lieutenant. I got annoyed and challenged her to a five touch sabre fencing duel, which I won. She surrendered, recalling her troops, and we went out to my backyard to have a lesbian wedding where instead of exchanging rings, we exchanged swords.

[mayonnaise8995]

Platoon art... + Wip of sgt Barnes ...

[senka-mesecine]

---

red eyes.

x

[snortoborto]

BestSimilar.com really caught me red-handed

[sparrowstarsandsorrow]

Sergeant Barnes(Tom Berenger) and Sergeant Elias (willem dafoe) in Platoon 1986.

'There's more than what meets the eye'

[cimmerian-war-shrine]

[illiana-mystery]

Rightful Anger

[exixidna]

Я и есть сама реальность …

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

[sharkchunks]

Magical Witch Punie-chan references to Apocalypse Now, The Deer Hunter, Full Metal Jacket and Platoon. Note that the show is a magical girl high school comedy and this is her animal sidekick.

[bugwolfsstuff]

My history teacher: Now lads there is a lot of swearing in this movie, im sorry i didnt know before

We're watching Platoon.....

PLATOON

THE WAR MOVIE BY WILLIAM OLIVER STONE

SIR YOUR PRIORITIES HERE ARE FUCKED UP

[senka-mesecine]

Please. Barnes is jealous that the reader is talking to another soldier. (sorry if my english is wrong)

I Oughta Be God.

Robert Barnes x Reader.

-

wonderful gif by @woman-with-no-name

-

-"You done waxin' poetic with that boy?"-

-"Sir?"-

-"Waxin' poetic. You just about done?"-

Sergeant Barnes's voice halts you mid stride and you stop to look at him, unable to immediately process what it was he meant only for it to hit you like a stray bullet; You did the unthinkable and supposedly broke all conduct protocol. You took the effort to show some human empathy towards one of the short timers whose toes literally threatened to decay inside of his own boots due to the long marches and the potent cocktail of near constant humidity. One thing these men needed was some kindness and you intended to show it to them to maintain some vestige of humanity among the ranks, wanting to lead by quiet day-to-day example, deciding to stand your ground on the matter. This was a question of morale. -"Tropical ulcer. Jungle rot."- You explain matter-of-factly, hugging your equipment close to your chest almost as a shield of sorts, introspective enough to confess to yourself that the man frightened you even while he was there indulging in the seemingly unassuming hobby of sitting down, playing cards with a couple of his eerily silent men, heads kept down, like he slightly frightened them too. -"I have to talk to him about it, sir. I'm sorry. The nature of it is purely informative."- You add, portraying the blunt banality of the topic. People around here needed to understand the illnesses they suffered from and how to prevent them from happening again in the future. It was literally your job, outside of helping them, to explain deterrent measures.

Sergeant Barnes didn't seem to agree.

-"Y'need to be treatin' him and makin' sure his toes don't go fallin' off and stickin' to his goddamn boots like paste. Not talkin'. Ain' no talkin' gonna fix him now."-

His heavy drawl is there laced with ample sarcasm dripping through like poison almost like he intended to imply your patient was done for, long since dead already, written off and that there was no helping him; now that --- it pushes your buttons hard and even though you knew he cared for his men in his own strange way, the callous way he talked about potential harm reeked of unnecessary cruelty. You tended to let a great many wry remarks around camp go in through one ear and out the other, but however calm you intended to be, you decide to cut the crap for lack of a better word. -"I didn't realize speaking to the men on base is against regulations or forbidden, sir, all due respect."- You retort, calmly --- as calmly and as kindly as you could so the point would be more poignant, not blurred by a freakout. Barnes gives you a look. Strange and half lidded that could almost be translated as sure is if I say it is. A deck of playing cards still in his hands, you gulp, feeling the need to clarify yourself once he says nothing more, minding his game instead, for the moment anyway. His sudden silences tended to make you nervous. Was impossible to know what he was thinking. -"I'm talking to you right now, sir, aren't I?"- You ask, trying to alleviate the tension; if the rules were the same for everyone technically you were wasting valuable time going back and forth that you could've been spent preparing Morepenicillin, Metronidazole and a general cocktail of anti-fungal antibiotics for that poor private's foot.

-"I own your ass out here. You belong to me, beaut."-

He shoots back suddenly, focusing his gaze back at you.

Your breath hitches.

Was nothing new, Barnes telling people he owns them, flat out.

He did it on a near daily basis, in fact.

When he says it to you, though ---

Beaut. The general scrambled nature of your brain right about now allows you to process that he's called you beaut ten seconds later than the actual moniker was uttered, leaving your mind in chaos as you tried to quickly deduce and decide if he was mocking you, being sarcastic again, trying to put you down or ---

The men seated around him around him are as silent as the grave. No snickering.

They weren't even looking at you, hyperfocused on their respective stacks instead.

-"I'm the only one y'all should be talkin' to and that includes you more than anyone."-

Barnes assesses himself and for some reason you find yourself tongue tied, unsure what to say to that without directly arguing with your superior, your better instinct overshadowed by some chemical in your brain that irrationally made you weigh the idea. Resent it yet weigh it. The idea of only ever talking to Barnes. You legs cannot move from where you were standing. You felt that you could only really move if he told you. He tilts his head, lips pressed into a hard line, setting down his cards on the table from the box he was seated on. Full House. Suddenly, the load of medications, needles and syringes you were carrying, having felt weightless a moment ago feels as heavy as a boulder in your arms now. What was this conversation even? -"I oughta be God to you."- He looks straight at you then and you could swear your legs were on the verge of crumbling from underneath you. The company of men around him falling into such a deep state of general quietude you could practically hear them all breathe around a makeshift table of beer cans, ashtrays and cigarette buds. Unwittingly and intrusively you imagine Barnes as a shadow looming over the jungle perimeters like God himself, swallowing you whole, finding a rare mercy when he nods his head wordlessly, giving you dismissal. Only then do you feel your legs move. Once he allows them to. His command that you spare your words only for him seemed non-enforceable but he nonetheless gives the order with such quiet gravitas you believe it to be.

Almost like a sort of magic.

-"Understood, sir."-

You mutter, getting the hell on out of his presence as fast as you could.

Fearing you could get burned if you stayed.

W --- what was that?

Did he really give you a direct order to never speak to anyone but him ever again?

[sparrowstarsandsorrow]

You ain't no firing squad, you piece of shit!