#basilone

[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.”

[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 💙

[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! ☺️🩵

[adamsc0rpse]

Idk if anyone's ever seen these, but I found them the other day on insta, and I thought I needed to share..

[sharkboyandlavalieb]

BAND OF BROTHERS vs THE PACIFIC

[sluttyhenley]

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

THE PACIFIC Part Eight

[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]

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays, @basilone !! I hope you have a wonderful day ♡

psd.

[rcbertleckie]

ANNIE PARISSE as LENA BASILONE THE PACIFIC · part eight

[glendylucast]

"Would you kindly invest for 'our cause', please?"

Yes...

Peleliu Landing, but make it manga

John Basilone, Robert Leckie and Eugene Sledge as cover boys

I know I should've put ammo somewhere for Leckie since that's his quotes (I believe in amunitions) but a whole rifle looks better so... the ammo is in the weapon lol

[ww2yaoi]

The Pacific Part VIII / Part V

[hbowardaily]

I saw his grave on Iwo. He's got lots of good Marines on all sides of him. He... He would have appreciated that.

ANNIE PARISSE as SGT. LENA BASILONE THE PACIFIC (2010) | Part 10: "Home"

[sidsledge]

lena basilone in iwo jima