#basilone

[mercurygray]

Shooting stars, for Marion?

I hope you don't mind the crew I roped in for this one, Killy. It was a nice little character moment.

Dances were really for the young people.

She was not a girl of twenty-three any more and staying up until all hours wasn't really something Marion's body could still afford. An appearance for the sake of appearances, a single drink, perhaps a round or two on the dance floor if someone felt like it, and then a hot water bottle and bed. She had a distance to maintain with them - leader, confidant…part-time mother figure. If you'd told me five years ago I'd have a rascally pack of sons I'd have told you you were crazy, Marion thought to herself with a smile. And yet here we are - in loco parentis.

And here was one of them now, the biggest and rascalliest of all of them - Major John Egan, presently cooling his heels and his very long legs outside the officer's club, enjoying a cigarette and the night air with an air of expectant ease.

"Seems like a strange night for you to be outside, Major," Marion observed with a little smile, listening to the raucous sounds of the band going full tilt in the officers' club. "Usually you're right in the middle of things."

"Oh, you know, just - getting a little fresh air."

Bucky was all casual avoidance, stretching his legs and arms and yawning a little as he settled back into his seat with an air of complete relaxation.

"Not …waiting for someone?" Marion asked lightly, already fairly certain she knew the answer. Bucky's smile tried its very hardest to hide, his expression just this side of sheepish. "Seems to me you've been seen a lot with the same girl, lately," she explained, waiting to see what he would do. "And I notice Lieutenant Callaway's still on shift."

His smile turned stormy, and he sat up a little, assuming a more defensive posture. "It's not against the rules, is it?"

Marion almost wanted to laugh. Would that stop you if it was? Bucky Egan didn't give two bits for rules, generally speaking, and she doubted this was enough to make him start. "Of course not," she assured him. "Just…a little surprising, is all. And I like to be surprised like that. She's very lucky." The mention of luck seemed to mollify him, a little. She paused. "Is it …serious, do you think?" Cordelia Callaway's a serious girl - not…really your usual fare. And she didn't want to have a thing to do with you for quite a while. So what changed, Mister Egan? Was it really just the war?

That wasn't so hard to imagine - that a young man who'd started having a regular daily brush with death would start to think about what he'd be leaving behind. But then again, there were plenty who took the opposite road and started living like they had nothing to lose, and to hell with anything that held them back from that. She would have considered Bucky among them, until recently.

Not that she minded the change. There were far fewer girls crying in her office now - and far fewer catty fights down at the barracks to break up. Cordelia Callaway was still good at her job -- and now smiling while she did it. But she wasn't the easy-come easy-go romance type - never had been. One of the reasons she never got along well with Bucky when he was kissing his way through half the girls on base, probably. There would be trouble, if one or the other got a different idea about where this was going. (Young hearts would mend, but they still broke, all the same - and that came with consequences. That was why there were rules about this sort of thing, rules that Marion was prepared to overlook at this moment because the two parties involved were easy enough to separate, if it really came down to it.)

So, Bucky? Is it serious? She watched him carefully, looked sheepish again, his gaze turned down to his shoes. For once in his life he seemed not to know what to say, and when he spoke, it was slowly, deliberately. "Is for me. I think." His face changed, abruptly, and she was reminded, in his suddenness, of just how young he was, boyish in his begging. "You won't - tell, will you?"

You won't tell - as if he were speaking of sending a baseball through a window, or sneaking an extra cookie. The earnestness of it tugged at her. Don't let her know I like her that much. Don't let the world know I can be serious, too. She felt bad, now, asking him if it were serious - so many other things required that he grow up too fast and she wasn't sure she wanted this to be one of them. "Your secret's safe with me, Major," Marion said with an abbreviated smile, spotting the distant figure of her lieutenant coming in from the direction of the women's barracks. "Lieutenant Callaway," she said, by way of a warning shot, and Bucky sat up like anything and looked in the direction she was speaking. "Major Egan was telling me he owes you a dance," she said, pleasant as she could, watching Cord's eyes light up a little at the suggestion. "You two enjoy your evening."

"Thanks, Captain," Cordelia said, a bit hesitant, and took the arm that Bucky was offering with a moment of blushing surprise, their heads moving closer together the moment they moved inside the doors of the club while she doubtless asked him what Captain Brennan had been talking to him about and he made up something to cover.

"Leaving already, Captain?" It was Major Harding, apparently just joining the festivities himself, uniform immaculate. She found herself appending that he looked handsome and settled for looking down at her shoes.

"It's a bit late for me," she said. "Early morning tomorrow."

The CO nodded, and went on his way, and Marion couldn't help getting a slight flash of disappointment from him. She considered warning him about Egan and Callaway, knowing the interest he took in such things, and thought the better of it. After all, I did say I wouldn't tell - and I think that includes Father, too.

[upontherisers]

Things you said at the kitchen table for Mahalia & Bucky? 💙

this was such a good prompt killy thank you thank you!!! tw for a brief death mention. prompt from this list. if anyone wants to listen along, i'd throw on halloween by phoebe bridgers.

“Where were you?” she asks from the table as he enters the kitchen.

He turns over his shoulder as he pours a glass of water so he can look at her in the warm light of the overhead lamp, all tucked into her Wayne State sweater, a few dark curls escaping from her headscarf and onto her forehead. Lucky guy, he is.

“Sal’s,” he says. “Donaldson said he was paying if the Yankees pulled through, so…”

She nods hurriedly. “Of course.”

“Thought we were gonna miss last call. They scored eight in the fifth then spent the sixth walking batters, and the Tigers can’t hit for shit so there was an hour worth of foul balls.”

From the sink, he looks out into the blue night and over the fence. The sky is covered in stars, and it’s so warm that he can see the green on the trees waving in the breeze — summer has arrived, rising up from the river and soaking into everything. The grass needs mowing and the garden needs weeding but it seems cruel now to cut down things at the height of realizing they’re alive. Maybe he’ll take Mahalia to the lake this weekend, or rent a rowboat on the river and watch her look over the side and marvel at the fish. Lucky guy.

“It cleared out during the eighth once it was clear which way it was going. Every seat had a view of home plate. You would’ve liked—”

A sniff interrupts him. Turning, he catches a shine on her cheek before she wipes it away, reaches for the cane resting between her thighs, and pushes back from the table as if to leave, but she stays seated.

“Mahalia?”

“No, it’s—I’m, I’m fine.” Her gaze is fixed on the small painted vase of wildflowers at the center of the table and he can see tears pooled above her bottom lashes — bright and golden from the glow overhead. A hand rests on the wood, flexing nervously.

His glass clatters into the sink and she jumps, tears running down her cheeks and darkening the cotton where they land. She gasps, surprised at herself, and swipes at her face with another sniff as he comes to a knee on the tile in front of her.

“Mahalia… hey, hey, hey.” He leans as she does, to the right, to the left, but she won’t meet his eyes, instead fussing at his collar and his hair with trembling hands.

“The radio,” she starts, “the radio said there was a fight. A man was killed.”

Resting her hands from his shirt, he takes them in his own and pushes his thumbs back and forth over her knuckles as she shakily exhales. “A fight?”

“After the game. They said a—a Yankees fan was drunk, they said they—they beat him to death.” Her voice cracks and the sound washes over him cold and stinging, like walking in October snow.

He kisses her knuckles and counts them, all ten, in his head. They’d left halfway through the ninth is what he hadn’t told her yet, worried about last call but the women at home most of all — Chip wanted to tuck in his girls one last time before sending them off to camp tomorrow and John was hoping Mahalia was still up so he could kiss her good night and look into her eyes and see that summer was getting to her, too. He didn’t mean it like this.

“I’ll call from Sal’s next time,” he says, but he doesn’t want a next time until he knows she won’t force herself to stay awake, alone in the dark, in a chair too stiff to rest in.

“Oh, don’t do that, I just—”

He cradles her face and she finally meets his eyes with tears tangled in the corners of hers. “They’re gonna have to do more than kill me, you know that?”

Her laugh is watery but real and the bubble of guilt in his chest pops as she pecks him on the lips and presses her forehead to his. It’s warm again, summer seeping through the tile below and rising to meet them. “How ‘bout the river tomorrow, you and me? You can see your fish.”

“You lie, John Egan,” she declares. “Those fish are nasty and smelly.”

She’s smiling all the same as she rises and handles her cane to her side, starting down the hall to their room. “But yes,” she calls over her shoulder, “we can go to the river.”

[shoshimakesstuff]

@basilone's Darlene + Benny — read here.

[thoughpoppiesblow]

For Audrey -- “what they said back there. is it true?” + delight + at work, far later than you should be? 😊

hi killy! thank you so much for the ask :) oi had a lot of fun with this one!

John sighed, and let his head drop between his shoulder blades. His desk light glowed brightly beyond his closed eyes, and he groaned. Everyone else was gone for the day, and there had been no word of a mission tomorrow. They were expecting their Air Exec, their ringleader, to come out to the Officer’s Club and raise a little hell. Bucky groaned again, glad that no one was around to hear him. 

Three weeks ago, his life had been fucking fantastic. Drinks, dances, dames, and not a worry under the goddamn sun. Now, he had boys watching him every hour, waiting for a sign of what to do. Watching him, watching Bucky with the sheepskin jacket, watching Major Egan the Air Exec. They watched, and John performed, and sometimes he couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.

“Major Egan?” a smooth voice called. John’s head jerked up, and he started trying to tame his unruly curls. He then gave his uniform a once-over - his tie was crooked again, even though Gale had straightened it before he went off to dinner with Benny. John sighed harshly through his nose, and the voice sang out again.

“It’s Audrey, Major,” she said. “No one dangerous.”

John chuckled and peered towards the door. “Oh, I bet you’re plenty dangerous, Audrey. Come on in, sit down,” John said. Audrey rounded the corner wearing her typical blouse and dark wool trousers, with her blonde hair tucked up neatly.

“Thank you, Major, but I’m not staying. I’m on my way back to the barracks, actually. I have some letters to answer.”

John nodded, feeling his eyes glaze over. Letters, like the ones he still had to write. He felt another sigh brewing.

Audrey moved closer, the lamplight catching on her cheeks. “I told Major Cleven I’d look in on you,” she said, smiling conspiratorially at him. “He said you missed dinner.”

John let the sigh fall. “What else is Buck saying?”

“Nothing,” Audrey said. “Because it doesn’t take a genius to tell that you ought to take a break.”

John rolled his eyes, letting his stress fester. “And what? Go see Benny’s damn dog or some shit?” As soon as he finished speaking, he cringed. Audrey was one of those least deserving of his wrath, of anyone’s wrath for that matter. But she stood firm.

“What, you think I’ve never taken an attitude before?” she said with a raised brow. “I’m from the exact same Philadelphia as Benny DeMarco, Major. And his dog’s name is Meatball, remember?”

“He told you?”

“Nora did,” said Audrey with a laugh. “She won’t stop fawning over them - Benny and his dog.”

John let out a matching laugh, getting swept along in Audrey’s delightful distraction. She knew she couldn’t convince him to up and leave, but that probably wasn’t her goal. Just a change, a momentary reprieve, a stay of execution. And God, it was helping. She was more than people gave her credit for, Audrey Morris was.

“Thanks for coming, Audrey,” John said softly. “I mean it.”

“I know,” she said simply.

John smiled at her. More than people gave her credit for, that was for damn sure. John let the silence linger, and his voice was even quieter the next time he spoke.

“And it’s true, right? What Buck said to you, back there?”

Audrey sighed and smiled at him. “Of course it’s true. People don’t always worry because they’re angry. They worry out of care, and out of love. And it doesn’t take a genius to see that you and Major Cleven are like brothers and that you care and worry like brothers, too.”

John smiled back at her, overwhelmed. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

[violaobanion]

Happy birthday to you! I hope you'll have the best day! 😊

aw thank you so much!! 🥹💓

[hephaestn]

Happy birthday! Wishing you good things for the new year of your life. 😊

thank you so, so much killy! ☺️🩵

[ronsenthal]

Happiest of birthdays to you, my friend! I hope the new year of your life will bring you many great things! 💙

Awww Killy thank you so much for your sweet words and for being such an inspiration and so supportive, I really appreciate it 💙

[sharkboyandlavalieb]

BAND OF BROTHERS vs THE PACIFIC

[sluttyhenley]

Okay, John, go pose with your wife! Let's make it official.

THE PACIFIC Part Eight

[tetragonia]

save me men in green dress... save me... men in green dress save me....

[mercurygray]

how to get home, for Cord? 💙

The days feel longer here.

It feels strange to say that, as they move into December and the dark descends before the sun's even had a chance to get her coat on, but wars don't run on business hours, and everyone can pull out their desk lamps and continue calculations well into the wee hours of the evening if that's what conditions demand. And the war demands a lot, always.

The new men coming in think that this is just the way that Thorpe Abbotts has always been - that the ops officers are seldom in the officers club, that that ground crew don't know your name. No one bothers to correct the impression, except perhaps Rosie Rosenthal, who even Colonel Harding will agree is in a class by himself.

Everyone is different after Munster, and none of the old hands want to correct assumptions. Harry Crosby is a loner, Ev Blakely tells fewer jokes, and Cordelia Callaway is an ice queen who's married to her job and never smiles.

Let 'em, Cord thinks to herself, finishing the last touches on the week's accident reports and watching out of the corner of her eye as a few new WACs go by, whispering. Why should it matter? She stands up and stretches, concious, as she has not been for a while, of the tension in her shoulders and the twinge in her jaw.

"Lieutenant Callaway, do you have a minute?" Cord looks up to see Fred Torvaldsen standing in the doorway, her homemade red scarf vivid against the blue of her Red Cross uniform and the gray outside. "I've got - something for you."

It's an odd request - Cord doesn't know the woman over and above a few cups of coffee, a good singing voice, and a heart for stray cats. (Anita spent a whole day talking about spark plugs before it was explained that she meant the Aero Club's new kitten.) A mittened hand holds something out - a letter. "It came to me, but it's - it's for you," Fred explains. "I think they wanted to - get it around the censor. I hope you don't mind I opened it."

The poor-quality paper is crumpled, the handwriting messy and rushed. There's only one person who writes like that. Cord finds herself leaning against the wall. (Fred, she notices, hasn't moved. How many letters like this has she delivered?)

Dear Cord,

I don't know what to say except I'm sorry.

And that's it. That's all there is. Ten words that hit her like a ton of bricks. Sorry, Bucky? You're sorry? What does that even - sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry you're not here? Sorry you're alive and you didn't think it would be important to tell me? Sorry?

It is so maddeningly and frustratingly him that she can hardly think - the wall is holding her up and she wishes it were him. You're a thousand miles away and you're right here in this paper, and I miss you so much, Bucky, your shoulders and your smile and the way you make me laugh…

The words have been struck through, heavily, with a pencil, and as she reads them a fifth and sixth time, she can almost see him, hunched over a table in a chair that is too small for him, struggling with the words and then deciding they're not worth the paper they're written on, striking them out and throwing down the pencil and crumpling up the page. Underneath there are a few more lines, added in a script she knows is Gale's -

Sorry you haven't heard from him sooner. He's started this letter five times and I thought you ought to at least get one.

I think if he missed you less, he'd be able to talk about it more. He hasn't said your name since we got here.

We're all doing okay, and hope you are, too. Say hi to everyone for us. Gale.

That, too, is a new wave of tears - classic Gale. At least he knows how to get home. She hopes for a tearful moment that Marjorie Spencer has gotten the letters that she knows Gale has written like clockwork in his fine, neat hand. And she has ten words. Ten words, struck out for being written, and her name, and 'Dear', and all of that somehow not good enough to actually send. John Egan, if you were here I don't know what I'd do to you. Kiss you, kill you, or never let go of you.

She looks up, wipes her eyes on the back of her hand, and realizes Fred is still standing there, smiling faintly, a handkerchief in her hand. Cord sniffles and takes it, grateful. "There's paper at the club, when you want to write him back."

"No if?" Cord asks, blowing her nose and trying to find the ice queen again behind the hot tears on her cheek.

"No one I know cries like that over ifs," Fred replied with a little smile. "Mary's baking shortbread later. We'll save you some."

Later that night, when she has been installed in a comfortable chair with a cup of tea and three of the promised cookies, she finds herself staring at the paper feeling blank. "Well, what would you say if he were here right now?" Mary asks, sitting down with her own cup of tea and gesturing to an empty chair like it will somehow conjure the man.

Cord stares at the empty chair, and then writes down the only words she can think of, picturing him.

You stupid, stupid, stupid man.

The only apology I want is for not writing sooner - and for thinking that I wouldn't want a letter. What kind of woman do you think I am? Jack Kidd was kind enough to give me your jacket - the one I said I hated. It's in my room now. I'll return it to you when you get back - or not. The weather's been getting colder and a girl might need it…

[upontherisers]

19 & 23 for the OC asks? 😊

thanks for these killy!

19. most likely to be a cuddler

frankie wilson! frankie's preferred place to be is all over you. she doesn't believe in personal space. it's never too hot for her to sit directly on you or shove her way into your bunk on the ship ("frankie i'm sweating through my underwear get off me!") or do whatever she can to be right next to you. stage 5 clinger. idk how marcus gets any work done.

23. most likely to defend their friends in a fight

mahalia summerton. she once shoved a man with half a foot on her behind her so that she could break a guy's nose. do not step to her friends in her presence.

most likely to OC asks

[shoshimakesstuff]

Changes on our hands and on our faces, Memories are mapped out by the lines we'll trace.

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays @basilone! ♡

[thoughpoppiesblow]

JJ! I know you have a few new OCs cookin', and am curious: what is Jackie's fave way to spend the day, and what is Nora's fave place in the whole wide world?

hi killy!! thanks so much for asking :) i decided to marinate on this for a little bit, so now i’m back with some answers!

jackie loves to just be. sitting and people-watching or reading in a café is endlessly fun to her, because it lets her slow down and settle in and really truly relax. as an officer, jackie has to move fast and think fast - which she can - but she prefers a slower type of life. she’ll always sneak her first coffee alone with the sunrise, rather than getting it with everyone else later at the officer’s mess.

nora’s favorite place is hard to pin down - she’ll say her college, because it sounds smart and normal, but really it would be her childhood bedroom. she doesn’t have a great relationship with her family by 1943, but she wants nothing more than to go back to a time when life was quiet, simple, and full of love. she wants to be quiet and settle, but believes that by being loud she can get rid of people before they have the chance to leave her.

[hboww2rewatch]

Welcome to HBO's WWII Fandom Rewatch!

You are cordially invited to join us in watching Band of Brothers, The Pacific, and Masters of the Air in chronological order April 29 - July 14, 2024.

We will be watching three episodes a week and will have prompts to boost fandom creation as we watch together!

You can find the episode schedule and prompts below the cut. Individual posts can be found here and here if you prefer shorter posts.

If you are unable to watch the show at the same time as the schedule, no worries. While we are personally planning to liveblog together the episodes per the schedule, we understand everyone has lives outside of tumblr. Watch whenever you are able - our goal is to bond over our love for these shows and experience them again together. Pop in when you are able! :)

Please tag all your posts during this event with #hboww2rewatch and give us a follow for all updates on the rewatch.

Please reblog this post to spread the word!

Schedule:

We are tentatively planning to watch Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturdays, but that is not set in stone - watch when you are able during the week!

Week 1: Mon April 29- Sun May 5

The Pacific E1  (Dec ‘41- Oct ‘42) The Pacific E2  (Oct ‘42) The Pacific E3  (Dec ‘42- Fall ‘43)

Week 2: Mon May 6- Sun May 12

Masters of the Air E1  (Spring ‘43) Masters of the Air E2  (Spring ‘43) Masters of the Air E3   (Aug ‘43)

Week 3: Mon May 13- Sun May 19

Masters of the Air E4 (Oct ‘43) Masters of the Air E5 (Oct ‘43) Masters of the Air E6 (Oct ‘43)

Week 4: Mon May 20- Sun May 26

The Pacific E4  (Dec ‘43) Masters of the Air E7  (march ‘44) Band of Brothers E1  (June ‘44)

Week 5: Mon May 27- Sun June 2

Masters of the Air E8  (June ‘44) Band of Brothers E2  (June 6, ‘44) Band of Brothers E3  (June 7, ‘44)

Week 6: Mon June 3- Sun June 9

The Pacific E5  (Sept ‘44) Band of Brothers E4  (Sept ‘44) The Pacific E6  (Sept-Oct ‘44)

Week 7: Mon June 10- Sun June 16

Band of Brothers E5  (Oct ‘44) The Pacific E7  (Oct-Dec ‘44) Band of Brothers E6  (Dec ‘44)

Week 8: Mon June 17- Sun June 23

Band of Brothers E7  (Jan ‘45) Band of Brothers E8  (Feb ‘45) The Pacific E8  (Feb ‘45)

Week 9: Mon June 24- Sun June 30

Band of Brothers E9  (April ‘45) The Pacific E9  (April-June ‘45) Masters of the Air E9  (Feb-June ‘45)

Week 10: Mon July 1- Sun July 7

Band of Brothers E10  (May-Aug ‘45) The Pacific E10  (Aug ‘45) Saving Private Ryan (Bonus event)

Week 11: Mon July 8- Sun July 14 - post rewatch events to encourage fellow fans!

Reblog people’s creations

Leave comments on fics

Consider making a new friend in someone else who participated

Prompts:

Week 1: Mon April 29- Sun May 5:

Heading Out

First Fight

Friends

Orange

Week 2: Mon May 6- Sun May 12:

Crash

Crew

Superstition

Blue

Week 3: Mon May 13- Sun May 19:

Dancing

Reunion

Kinship

Red

Week 4: Mon May 20- Sun May 26:

Recuperation

Camp Life

Training

Green

Week 5: Mon May 27- Sun June 2:

Tuskeegees

Parachute

Injured

Purple

Week 6: Mon June 3- Sun June 9

Reunited

Replacement

Airfield

White

Week 7: Mon June 10- Sun June 16:

Typewriter

Loss

Cold

Pink

Week 8: Mon June 17- Sun June 23:

Shelling

Translation

Wedding

Brown

Week 9: Mon June 24- Sun June 30:

Discovery

Humanity

Celebration

Yellow

Week 10: Mon July 1- Sun July 7:

Bonding

Adjustment

Sacrifice

Dress Uniform

Black

Week 11 Mon July 8- Sun July 14:

Favorite Crew

Favorite Company

Best Friendship

Humor

Underrated Character

Character + Quote

Headcanons

Crossover

Something Missing

[rcbertleckie]

ANNIE PARISSE as LENA BASILONE THE PACIFIC · part eight