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#joe mazzello gif
userjohndeacon · 3 months
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JOE MAZZELLO + RAMI MALEK the pacific (2010) + bohemian rhapsody (2018)
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cinnamonrollsledge · 2 months
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Alexa, play "Hungry Eyes" by Eric Carmen The Pacific (2010)
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staud · 3 months
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snafu getting (rightfully) bitch slapped (7/x favorite hbo war scenes)
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joe-mazzello-archive · 9 months
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JOE MAZZELLO as EUGENE SLEDGE the pacific (2010) || part five: peleliu landing
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nimaiwe · 2 years
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Is it me or Eddie Munson looks like a love child of Joe Mazzello and Ben Hardy
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echoinyourshadow · 1 month
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THE PACIFIC - PART 9
MASTERS OF THE AIR - PART 9
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ncutii-gatwa · 11 months
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REGAN’S COUNTDOWN TO QUEEN — week two: favorite scene from bohemian rhapsody (2018) ↳ Recording Bohemian Rhapsody
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Borhap Cast <3
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these four beans changed my brain chemistry in 2018, they continue to do so
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ramimedley1981 · 1 year
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I watched Undrafted last night (totally justifiable research for the Grudge Match chapter) and man, I forgot how much I love that movie. It's ridiculous. Like...
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Exactly the kind of energy I was looking for as I worked on that chapter. 😂😂😂
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musedblues · 10 months
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*rubs hands together* hehehehe
"them gently tilting your chin" from the lovely prompts with eugene sledge pls and thank 💚
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He was never bold. Not before the war. And hardly so afterward. Gene was adventurous, yes, before the war. Always blazing his bike across the dirt paths that connected your hamlet. Always chasing you through the trees and begging to stay out even though dusk threatened to blacken the night. But he was too shy to be bold. He was too reserved in his mannerisms. He was reticent when it usually counted most.
Yes, he raced you with glee from tree to trunk, but Gene withheld talk of dreams and he kept quiet about his truest feelings. That never stopped you from asking all kinds of questions, though. You asked what he wanted to be when he was old enough to decide. You asked where he would move if he could; you asked what made him tick and you asked why he never brought anyone else but you out to theses woods to waste away so many afternoons. Gene would never answer, not really. He would shrug and sometimes smile and go on skipping rocks at your side.
And then the war came. And Gene went with it. And that was bold of him, you thought. The boy who never dared to dream out loud was suddenly up and gone to the other side of the world, fighting for it. Of course, he didn't tell you. His mama did, some Sunday afternoon. She pulled you aside in the middle of the market and said Gene was too worried he'd upset you. Too shy to say he wanted you to write. She told you he'd already left, and you went to spend the afternoon skipping rocks alone.
Gene wrote you once, and you thought that was bold of him. He'd left you without a goodbye, and he didn't even address as much in his scrawling. He wrote about the weather and some friends he'd made. And you didn't expect him to write about how tired he must've been or how scared. But you wished he would've. And you wrote him back as much. Your letter was never returned.
You didn't see him when he got home. Not right away. You'd heard his family mention the fact that Gene was safe and sound and more reserved than ever. You didn't expect him to come knocking on your door and sweep you off your feet. Gene would never be so bold. But you wished he would've at least met you halfway; at curb where your neighborhoods connected, so you could tell him that you had missed him. That you still did. Had his sense of adventure been lost after his exploit across the ocean?
You wracked your brain, wondering if you should wait for him to come and see how you'd been. You wondered if Gene would answer the door if you went to call on him. You worried yourself into a frenzy over etiquette, were you just meant to leave Gene be, now that he was home? Would he even be the same sort of friend to you?
You wondered and worried all the way across town, kicking pebbles on the path that led to the pond, in the middle of the woods. You took a trail that was only worn into the ground from Gene's bike tracks. You recognized the pattern of the tire marks.
You recognized the very bike that had blazed this trail. You recognized Gene, skipping rocks like no time had passed at all.
There he was, where the water met the land. His trousers cuffed; his feet planted firmly along the shore. His back to you. All the etiquette you'd worried over was out the window. Because it was now or never.
"Eugene Sledge where have you been?"
The boy turned slowly but did not smile to see you. His eye's gleamed, and his posture settled, and he kept quiet as ever.
"All this time you've been home. I was wondering..."
"Wondering what?" He said, as you stepped closer, eager to settle at his side, like when you were kids. This was all familiar. But Gene wasn't so much. He was quieter, if that were possible. He was leaner, somehow. He was distant despite being the most present he'd been in years.
"Why you never told me you were leaving. Why you didn't write me much at all. Why this is the first time we're talkin'... Thought we were better friends than that."
"Well, that's just it ya see. I never wanted to be friends."
One sentence compacted so many years of answers you'd been wondering. Your heart dropped and your world stopped, and you knew Gene had gone through hell and back. But this...
"Well, we were friends, so-" You began to defend, letting your tone turn bittered. But before you could finish, Gene was speaking up again. Rare. Riveting. Infuriating. Now? You hadn't even asked, for once.
"I know and I'm glad. Thinking back to all the times we spent together out here growin' up and knowin' I could come back to doing just that helped me get through all the shit of war. I'm glad you were my friend, and I knew you'd still be. But I never really wanted that."
"You're not making one bit of sense, Eugene Sledge. No wonder you never said as much." Your eye could've stung with tears of hurt if you weren't so confounded by the look of pain on Gene's face, too. He'd moved to face you as his features twisted into a grimace. He was never much of a talker. Not when it really counted.
Maybe that's why now, when he said "Wait, listen," he didn't speak another word. He only demanded your attention by reaching out in silence, big sad eye's locked on yours. Gene brushed the tips of his fingers across your chin, tilting your face closer to his. His lips parted to speak, but silence lingered as Gene brushed his knuckles across your cheek. His kiss came slow, and his lips were soft on yours. His kiss was a surprise you hadn't expected. It was a timid gesture that lasted only a few glorious seconds. How wondrously bold of him.
"That's... that's what I meant." Eugene Sledge muttered, both his eyes darting between either of yours. You wanted to shake him and grab him and laugh and call him silly for waiting so long.
"Well, I'd ask you to do it again, but you don't answer many of my questions. So, I'm tellin' you to do that again."
"I know we got a lot'a talkin' to do. Years worth. But I'd better follow orders first." Gene smiled. The first smile you'd seen in forever. His grin met yours and he kissed you proper, for enough time that seemed to make up for all that felt lost before. Maybe he hadn't misplaced his sense of adventure after all...
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userjohndeacon · 5 months
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JOE MAZZELLO as EUGENE SLEDGE the pacific (2010) || part six: peleliu airfield
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cinnamonrollsledge · 2 months
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Sledge Going Back for Snafu The Pacific (2010)
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staud · 3 months
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"I thought if there was any way to salvage Snafu’s humanity, it would be through the character of Sledge. He’s this man who reminds him of who he used to be, or the man he lost on the mortar, the man Sledge was probably replacing. Once I realized that, I thought there was a part of Snafu that wants to make sure that he doesn’t lose the beauty inside of him, the way that Snafu has. Even selfishly, maybe he could redeem some of that, in some weird way." – Rami Malek
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joe-mazzello-archive · 11 months
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REGAN'S COUNTDOWN TO QUEEN | week two | favorite scene from bohemian rhapsody (2018)
discussing roger's car song
bonus:
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mcqraw · 2 years
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you can actually pinpoint the second when his heart rips in half. (c)
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