#hawkeye missed saying goodbye to him for TEN MINUTES

[variousqueerthings]

so I went off a bit about this online and offline so ok rocking up to these emotions 45 years later (or however long) than everyone else but hey you get to see someone having these emotions For The First Time In Real Time!

Hawkeye leaves the base without proper permission in a reckless bid to properly say goodbye to Trapper, because Trapper (for reasons I hc as relating to general bad mental health behaviour, similar to how when we see Hawkeye in opening s4 is even less respectful of Frank and generally “how he is perceived” than usual -- because they’re both grieving Henry’s death) Did! Not! Leave! Him! A! Note! Nor a Letter!

(he left him a kiss, which I would hazard was not intended for on the cheek, but Radar did his best but no note and Hawkeye can’t accept the lack of words, he needs those words whatever they are, however messy)

so Hawkeye drives hell or high water to catch Trapper in what to modern audiences is recognisable as the 11th hour most romantic of moments: The Airport Run, an unfailing plot-device that I have never seen fail

and then Hawkeye

FAILS the airport run

he doesn’t manage to say goodbye to Trapper, despite disobeying direct orders not to leave base, despite lying to the guards on the road, despite driving so fast he’s covered in dust (right after coming back from a large hangover and dousing himself fully-clothed in a shower)

he looks like shit, he doesn’t care who tries to stop him and

he FAILS THE AIRPORT RUN!!!**

not for any particular reason, there’s nothing that stops him. he just... was never going to be on time -- he fails it BY TEN MINUTES, and is walking around like a man in shock covered in dust from the road, repeating it to himself (ten minutes??? I missed him by ten minutes????)

* * *

and in the midst of all of these repetitions (are you sure he didn’t leave a note? nothing? ten minutes???), which, on top of Henry dying after he’d left Korea, just seems to add to the amount of senseless cruelties mounting on top of each other, he meets BJ Hunnicutt for the first time

literally as he is processing that he cannot say goodbye to Trapper, BJ appears in his pressed new uniform, and is introduced to him, and Hawkeye isn’t supposed to be there to meet him! He’s only there because of his -- and I keep stressing this -- failed airport run

if Hawkeye had been reachable on-leave instead of (from the sounds of things) being even more depressingly hedonistic, or if Trapper had left him a note instead of getting drunk for two days, he probably wouldn’t have gone there, and those actions feel like they were marinated in grief and exhaustion (+ I think of that episode of that guy who becomes paranoid after he’s discharged and so tries not to touch anything for fear of him getting injured -- I think of Henry who said goodbye and then died, probably only a week or two earlier, and then I think it’s easy to read Trapper as terrified of saying goodbye of speaking about feelings to Hawkeye, just in case saying those things mean a permanent goodbye...)

the fact that he missed him (By! Ten! Minutes!) and that it was the exact time that BJ was arriving --- that feels like fate

BJ Hunnicutt: new suit, bright and afraid and a new father and Hawkeye seizes upon the distraction, buys him a drink and decides to steal a general’s truck because their own disappeared and why the hell not! Let’s show the new guy the ropes!

and because of the timeline/confluence of events they get shot at and then stuck in a mortar shelling where BJs fancy uniform gets completely muddied and he throws up (but recovers and does his job well and Hawkeye comforts him by holding him and placing a hand on his forehead) and they help a girl who triggers a mine, and take her to a dilapidated hospital, and then they get even more drunk in a bar down the road from the unit and after that I guess they can’t become anything but inseparable, because they both just went through one of the worst days of each of their lives together

I don't think it was meant to be construed specifically as I construe it in the hindsight of 2022 (what with the Tropes in play that I don't even think existed then), but the episode really does feel like something special...

it’s as if the whole of the opening of season four is mired in reckless abandonment and incorrect decisions (Hawkeye being unreachable, Trapper leaving without a note) brought on by grief, that just quietly tears Hawkeye and Trapper apart -- he doesn’t fail because of anything, he just couldn’t have made it on-time --

only for the universe to gently offer Hawkeye the chance for a new story --

and the episode makes it very clear that the story won’t be daisies and daffodils, but he won’t be alone in it

he wasn’t on time to say goodbye to Trapper but he was just in time to welcome BJ to Korea

--

--

**Sidenote: seriously when did the airport run become one of the most well-known staples of romantic gestures? did it exist prior to this episode? I need to know if this whole sequence is done consciously invoking romantic text, or if by some mad happenstance it just retroactively not only invokes it but fucking subverts it before it even existed by having him fucking fail! I am tearing my hair out here (metaphorically, I am only tugging on it intermittently literally)

#MASH #hawkeye pierce #trapper mcintyre #bj hunnicutt #can you tell I'm fine? #i actually feel a lot calmer having written this post #im watching MASH

[doumekiss]

doumekiss 2023 fanfic masterlist

A Song of Ice and Fire

When You Were Young - 3/9 - (Lyanna/Howland)

Beyond Duty - 2/2 (Stannis/Catelyn)

Switched Fates - 4/? (Multiple ships and characters)

I am ash from your fire - oneshot (Elia/Rhaegar)

runs in the family - oneshot (Daenerys)

but I'll see you in my holiest dreams - oneshot (Sansa/Mya)

Be more like the man you were made to be - oneshot (Ned/Ashara)

I Can See You - oneshot (Cersei/Lyanna)

Four Girls Sansa Stark Could Have Loved - oneshot (Multiple pairings)

.

Adventure Time

ten more minutes - oneshot (Marceline/Bonnibel)

.

Anne with an E

one single thread of gold tied me to you - oneshot (Diana/Anne)

.

Boy Meets World

Jump Rope Gazers - oneshot (Eric/Jack)

.

Buffy The Vampire Slayer

2 A.M. - oneshot (Buffy/Faith)

.

Community

Holding Hands at Disneyland - oneshot (Annie/Jeff)

.

Chrestomanci

The Art of Saying Goodbye - oneshot (Conrad/Christopher)

.

Discworld

A Missed Oportunity - oneshot (Vimes/Vetinari)

.

Doctor Who

Placebo - 2/2 (Rory/11th Doctor)

Baby It's You - oneshot (Barbara/Ian)

.

Dungeon Meshi

Oh...oh no - oneshot (Laios/Kabru)

.

Fairy Tales

I’m not a queen, I am a woman take my hand - oneshot (Aurora/Snow White)

.

Father Ted

Priests Do Not Feel Jealousy - oneshot (Ted/Dougal)

.

Gilmore Girls

I no longer feel I have to be James Dean - oneshot (Rory/Jess)

.

Good Omens

Practicing Gratitude (Aziraphale/Crowley)

.

Gossip Girl

after all that we've been through I know we're cool - oneshot (Nate & Blair)

.

Greek Mythology

he is not midas (you have always been golden) - oneshot (Ariadne/Dyonisus)

Most Beloved - oneshot (Penelope/Odysseus)

I Know love is mean - oneshot (Aphrodite/Helen)

.

Hawkeye

I look up at the gaps of sunlight (I miss you more than anything) - 2/2 (Clint/Kate)

.

How I Met Your Mother

The Canine Excuse - oneshot (Robin/Barney)

.

Invader Zim

Hot Chocolate - oneshot (Dib & Zim)

.

IT

just like heaven - oneshot (Richie/Eddie)

He is with You - oneshot (Bill & Mike)

.

Kobayashi-san Chi No Dragon Maid

Lingerie - oneshot (Tohru/Kobayashi)

Managing Expectations - oneshot (Fafnir/Takiya)

Just a Cold - oneshot (Tohru/Kobayashi)

.

Maleficent

The Beauty of Shadows - oneshot (Maleficent/Aurora)

.

Mob Psycho 100

I could even learn how to love like you - oneshot (Mob & Reigen)

.

Mean Girls

Come as you are - oneshot (Janis & Regina)

.

Merlin

Are we out of the woods yet? - oneshot (Morgana/Gwen)

.

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

Inside your head - 33/? (Dokja/Joonghyuk)

.

Oshibudo

Private Message - oneshot (Maina/Eripiyo)

.

Princess Tutu

Fairytale Logic - oneshot (Ahiru/Fakir)

.

Ranma 1/2

When a Curse Stops Being a Curse - oneshot (Ranma/Akane)

.

Red Dwarf

comfortable thoughts - oneshot (Rimmer/Lister)

frankenstein - oneshot (Rimmer/Lister + Frankie)

mutual benefit - oneshot (Rimmer/Lister)

.

Seraphina

Positive Reinforcement - oneshot (Seraphina/Glisselda)

.

Stardew Valley

Happy Wife, Happy Life - oneshot (Haley/F!Farmer)

.

Stargate Atlantis

The Kirk Routine - oneshot (John/Rodney)

.

Star Trek : Lower Decks

hits different 'cause it's you - oneshot (Mariner/Boimler)

.

Star Trek: Voyager

James T. Kirk is Not Trying to Steal Your Boyfriend - oneshot (Icheb/Q Junior)

.

Succession

love is a losing game - oneshot (Roman/Gerri)

.

Supernatural

girl in the war - oneshot (Charlie/Jo)

the altar is my hips - oneshot (Dean/Castiel)

Dean Winchester’s Amazing Transparent Closet - oneshot (Sam & Dean, Castiel/Dean)

.

The Breakfast Club

Pretty in Black - oneshot (Allison/Andrew)

.

The Goldfinch

loving him was red - oneshot (Boris/Theo)

.

The Locked Tomb

About Last Night... -1/? (Gideon/Harrow)

.

The Mighty Boosh

Colour my life with the chaos of trouble - oneshot (Vince/Howard)

Let's Buy a Zoo - oneshot (Vince/Howard)

.

The Office

I know who I want to take me home - oneshot (Oscar/Andy)

.

xxxHolic

love is natural and real (but not for such as you and I, my love) - oneshot (Doumeki/Watanuki, Doumeki/Kohane)

A Kinder Life - 4/? (Watanuki & Sakura & Syaoran & Touya, Doumeki/Watanuki)

For Good Luck - oneshot (Doumeki/Watanuki)

.

Yellowjackets

first love/late spring - oneshot (Taissa/Van)

Lady Lazarus - oneshot (Lottie/Laura)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was only gonna post this at the end of the year but I think it might be best to just keep it pinned and updating as I post

#my writing #a song of ice and fire #orv #anne with an e #community #doctor who #dungeon meshi #gilmore girls #good omens #gossip girl #greek mythology #it #oshibudo #kobayashi san chi no maid dragon #mob psycho 100 #mean girls #xxxholic #merlin #princess tutu #red dwarf #stardew valley #lower decks #succession #supernatural #the goldfinch #the office #yellowjackets #ranma #the mighty boosh #how i met your mother

[redhatmeg]

Okay, so... Henry Blake's final episode...

I need to start with the fact that my first encounters with M*A*S*H* happened when I was in kindergarten/elementary school. Back then I happened to catch some episodes on TV, but since they were broadcasted late at night, I was falling asleep after ten or so minutes.

Either way, back then I remembered that there was Radar (he's imprinted into my memory the most, for some reason), Hawkeye, Klinger, Burns, Houlihan, Hunnicut and Potter. I had vague idea who was who there.

Fastforward to my middle school and some Polish TV station broadcasts reruns of M*A*S*H* and I'm like: "Cool! I remember liked it. It can be fun!"... But in the first episode I watched I was a little bit confused, because instead of Sherman Potter and BJ Hunnicut, I saw Henry Blake and Trapper. Did I remember it wrong? What happened to the white-haired dude? Why Hawkeye's roommate has this annoying laugh?

Frankly, I found Blake boring and I guess it was partly because I was so fond of Potter. Then this finale happened and back then the scene when Radar comes into OR and breaks the news to others, I thought it was poignient and cool scene, characteristic for this show.

But some time after the TV station finished broadcasting M*A*S*H*, they showed a documentary that I guess was made for the show's anniversary? Either way, they talked extensively about the history of the show and about the most prominent episodes, among which there was Abyssinia, Henry and the final scene. That was the first time when I learned about the method acting, especially about not revealing certain information to the actors to bring up genuine emotions from them. Now we are used to hearing stories about actors playing in the dark, but in this case it was somewhat justified - the actors didn't know about the twist for most of the episode, when Blake was saying goodbye to everybody; and before the big reveal they were told about the twist to prepare themselves for final scene.

Anyway, how do I see it now, when I've got to spend three seasons with Henry Blake?

I still prefer Potter, if only because he seems more effective and doesn't cheat on his wife (as far as I remember). In fact, Blake and Trapper having affairs with nurses left bad taste in my mouth and made me a little less sympathetic towards them from the start. However, both of them have more tender and likeable moments throughout the series, especially when their families are considered. In stark contrast to Burns, often the way Blake and Trapper were talknig about their wives and kids, indicated that they actually do love and miss them.

Blake is more or less a reasonable authority figure. He's not exactly in charge most of the time, but he seem to understand some things about how world works and that he shouldn't be completely by-the-book, if he wants his hospital to be efficient. But there are times when he's too lenient, especially when Hawkeye and Trapper are harrassing major Houlihan. In fact, I can totally understand Margaret's frustration with how Blake doesn't do much to support her authority as a head nurse.

There were moments during this finale, when I felt a little sad, because I knew that Henry is going to die and almost everybody in the 4077th loved this man deeply. I wasn't crying for him, but I was close to it.

So all in all, I don't see Henry Blake as bad character, but I'm glad we're getting to the episodes with colonel Potter and his horse-loving, amateur painting glory.

#meg rewatches mash #mash #henry blake

[machihunnicutt]

haha hellooooo just stopping by to say that 1. I loved what you did with this section the stand-in of clothes and 'fitting' for a larger issue of belonging was brilliant I loved it and also the way that you played with the taboo idea that there might be some things BJ missed from the war and 2. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!!!

BJ Hunnicutt had never expected to get a divorce. He’d expected everything to fall into place once he was home. He held things together, for a while, even though he jumped at loud noises and took quick, freezing showers, on instinct. And sleeping was difficult. Peg found him curled up on the floor, in Erin’s bedroom more nights than not. He kept a compulsive watch over her crib. Erin was often the star of his nightmares.

His hands shook sometimes, in surgery, and when he was done with work he had to hide in the bathroom stall and hyperventilate until his heart stopped pounding.

Peg was trying, but BJ was distant. He threw himself into projects: repainting the house, starting a garden, restoring an old motorcycle from the 30s. He worked late and sat in his car in the driveway for ten minutes before he came inside. 

Most of the time BJ felt like none of his clothes fit. His pant legs were too short and the waists too big and then, in time, too small. Shirt seams chafed and made him break out in rashes. Shoes he’d had for years started to give him blisters. It was like he was a stranger in his own body.

And he longed for the Swamp. He longed for his lumpy cot and the burn of dogshit gin. He missed nights when the air would get hot and heavy and punishing, and BJ would be drenched in sweat, half‐dressed, staring up at the top of the tent. He’d listen to Hawkeye’s breathing, beside him, and his muttering. He’d sit up and watch the shadows moonlight made on their things: the spidery lines of the still, the deep blue‐black of vinyl on Charles’ record player, Hawk’s robe, draped over a chair. Some of those nights BJ had felt completely at peace.

tysm for asking!!

i think mostly I’m obsessed with costuming, particularly in mash and particularly bj bc he develops such a distinctive personal style that is so contrary to the wife guy/boy next door/square whatever you want to call it bj persona we’re introduced to in season 4

and despite that being personally relatable to me (i am a shy gay loser and i love ridiculous fashion choices), i think it serves as an interesting closeting/visibility metaphor and makes me wonder what happens when bj goes back to the suburbs and has to fit in the way he used to? Will it come naturally now that he knows what it’s like to express himself outside of the conventions of a 50s marriage? Will he recognize himself in his old masks? — tangent about how i think Margaret’s costuming does similarly interesting things with regard to her expressions of femininity (wedding dress, scully, dress her hair over time etc.) and I love margaret & bj comparison moments. they are my top 2 for a reason.

I also think that bj’s repression is so intense that he will have physical reactions at home. I think that disengaging from his feelings and trauma from the war will lead to a dissociation in his body UGH it’s so much I really love writing bj he’s really sooo insane babygirl to me

he just needs so badly to feel like he’s needed and seen and understood for who he is and he’s sooo bad at using his words to ask for these things 😫

on the point of the taboo of missing aspects of the war I think it ties into my (extensive) gfa thoughts on bj going home to a life that is almost certainly going to blow up. he does not have the self awareness or emotional availability to be a good husband/father. he has barely been able to say goodbye. the war has changed him irreparably in ways that WILL impact his family and so of course the war is also going to be a source of escape too. It was a time when he didn’t have to worry about his responsibilities at home and could maintain a fantasy of what his family life was. It was a place he didn’t have to hide, he could just be himself and be understood !

tangent 2 I’ve also been thinking about this point while watching mad men ! Like the idea of going back to a normal job after being in a war and like how don draper uses his slick persona to cover up the trauma of his backstory idk idk it’s all about repressed assholes for me I guess

Thanks for reading and asking I hope this all makes sense I love to ramble 😭

#mash #ask awi #awi’s fic

[kitkatt0430]

I've arrived at season 4 of MASH, where Col Potter and BJ join the crew.

The finale of S3 is hard to watch, with how excited Col Blake is to go home and see how happy everyone is for him and he talks to his family to let his wife and kids know he's going home. And then. He doesn't. His plane goes down. And that final scene in O.R. when Radar gives the news and it's all silence except the noise of something being dropped.

And some episodes earlier, Hawkeye had noted that Blake was getting arthritis and that could have been his ticket home but Blake said no. If he'd gone home earlier, would he have lived? That has to be something Hawkeye asks himself afterwards.

And then at the start of S4, Trapper's gone too. Hawkeye misses saying goodbye to him by ten minutes. But in comes first BJ then Col Potter and there are hints at Franks eventual downward spiral when he doesn't get command of the camp.

The show can be so funny, but when it leans into the drama side it really leans in hard.

#kitkatt0430 watches #mash #fandom meta #mash meta

[1982brucespringsteen]

last night i ended s3 and watched the first episode of s4 of m*a*s*h and like. terrible terrible terrible

#m*a*s*h #i miss trapper!!!!! and henry!!! #and the way they went away. wtf man. dont do this to me #hawkeye missed saying goodbye to him for TEN MINUTES?????? EVIL!!! #now i cant stop thinking abt trapper going home and missing hawkeye and ginger and his friends #mine

[hhawkeye]

welcome to korea hawkeye thinks he’s in one romcom where he’ll meet trapper at the airport and stop him from getting on the plane and they’ll kiss at the gate and live happily ever after. but actually he’s in a different romcom where he misses him by ten minutes and instead meets trapper’s replacement, who turns out to be his own soulmate, and will complete him in ways he didn’t even know he was missing, and they will spend two or eight years together in love with one another but never doing a thing about it and they will have their own tragic airport moment where one of them says goodbye and the other says see you later but they dont know theyre both actually saying i love you

#thinking about the bus 'she's in the wrong woods' 'or the wrong story' #im going insane here. like obviously Obviously i know none of this was intended im not like. the beejhawk conspiracy over here #but also like HELLO? #mash #im fucking crazy but i am free.gif

[thotful-opinions4u]

Tell me more about BJ’s Trapper Complex?

okay rn I cannot find any of the posts about this that I love. I'm not finished watching the show but I've read a lot of posts about this that convinced me

So, for me, it's based on a mix of canon and headcanons. A lot of it is his vibe honestly.

I think the biggest canon thing people point to is that BJ destroys the gin still because Trapper and Hawkeye made it and is jealous; when the still is remade, it essentially erases that last trace of Trapper because it's BJ and Hawkeye now. BJ is very aware of how jealous he is of a man who isn't even here. He's Hawkeye's best friend/life partner - and yet the lingering reminder of Hawkeye's previous best friend/life partner is something that silently hangs over his head.

BJ's extremely conscious that he is Trapper's replacement. (Hawkeye even tells him this, when discussing the lack of personhood in a war when people are swapped out like parts) Even if BJ doesn't verbally acknowledge his jealousy or frustration of inherently being compared to Trapper, I just know he's thinking about it. (Which, in his early seasons, there's a lot he thinks about but never says. King of Repression.)

imo from day 1, BJ tries so hard to impress Hawkeye. But unfortunately for BJ, the timing of their meeting is all wrong. Hawkeye is focused on and devastated by Trapper. From day 1, BJ gets eclipsed by Trapper's shadow. And sure Hawkeye is compassionate and kind; but there's wary disconnect there that BJ has to have noticed, especially as he gets to know Hawkeye better

Henry's death was bad but he got to say goodbye, even though he hadn't known how final it would be. He had time to process the separation, throw him a party. (And then mourn, which is another topic and the thought of him having a breakdown so bad that that's why he's on such a long R&R is! sure something!) Whereas the suddenness of Trapper leaving was something he didn't have time to brace for. He never got to say that goodbye. It's about the wound that never gets closure.

It's not BJ's fault that he arrives right as Hawkeye's going through this. But once you get to know Hawkeye, you'll notice the ways that he tries to keep his emotional distance even though he really, really cares about people.

Now let me circle back to BJ and how he tries - and how he has to try bc Hawkeye's put up a slight barrier - to impress him, whereas Trapper never did. Trapper's antics were accepted with a lot more enthusiasm bc Hawkeye hadn't lost his best friend/life partner yet and had no reason to try to not get as deeply attached to someone who might - and will, eventually - leave. Hawkeye in seasons 1-3 would adore BJ. But they meet in s4. Hawkeye's just that very day experienced being unexpectedly left behind. There's no time to recover! He has a break down but ultimately throws up a good show of bravado, right up until BJ sees the war and gorey death in whence Hawkeye drops the act and reaches out with (what he does best) genuine compassion because at the heart of it Hawkeye cares so so much. BJ sees this horror and among the horror is one of the kindest, most competent men. He's met the real Hawkeye with no shields up. Nothing but authenticity. And then once they're done, Hawkeye throws his shields up and puts the bravado act back on. Of course BJ is going to notice.

Of course he's going to think about it, connect it to Hawkeye and his "I missed him by ten lousy minutes" and to every time Hawkeye drops his guard to risk letting people hurt him - because he will and he does, and he'll always do so bc he will always risk suffering if it means caring for these people, if it means being a real person as the war increasingly takes and takes and makes Hawkeye strive to remind himself and others that they are real people

There's no way that BJ - who's seen the real Hawkeye from day 1 and then tries so hard to impress that so very good man - will not wonder, will not figure out the unspoken wound Hawkeye has. And the thing is, it's hard to heal it when it keeps getting ignored and pushed aside. He doesn't have time to process it. And so it lasts.

Now in a place like 4077 and with a person like Trapper? Even when Hawkeye doesn't talk about Trapper, BJ hears things. Picks up that he was so important to Hawkeye.

And no matter that BJ does manage to impress Hawkeye, that BJ does manage to become best friends/life partners with Hawkeye - Trapper was there first and (worse) might still have been Hawkeye's best friend/life partner if he'd never gone. It's like following a great act in a talent show. Intimidating and there's no way BJ isn't thinking about that he's being compared to Trapper. Whether or not anyone means to, it'll just happen. Because he is that following act, because he is Trapper's replacement.

Basically BJ's Trapper Complex is: 1. that BJ knows that he will be compared to Trapper - and if someone else doesn't do it, then he'll do it for him. 2. He worries that it's a competition for Hawkeye's love (even though he knows it isn't and that Hawkeye is very capable of love abundant) and that he's going to lose. To somebody who isn't even here! And so he has to win and - like a voyeuristic narrator - is very, very aware of this.

#okay this got way too long #and way way too unorganized #sorry this is so incoherent #i meant to focus more on BJ's Trapper Complex itself but i took several detours. #i have no clue if this makes sense #anyways! #thanks for the ask #mash #thotful-opinions4u #m*a*s*h #bj hunnicutt #hawkeye pierce #tw long post #tw long text

[prawniscuous]

im throwing up trapper didnt know how to say goodbye conveying all of it so he leaves him a kiss on the cheek and hawkeye completely understands and is like oh god no I need that in person it cant be like this and then misses him by ten minutes

[spaceradars]

i just started M*A*S*H s4 and bj’s here (!!!!!!)

oh my god. let’s just say it wasn’t in my plans to do so today, but after the unexpected ending after s03 (i had no idea about Henry, i knew he left the 4077/show after s03 but i had no idea it was SO SAD, OKAY? I DIDN’T KNOW THAT HAPPENED, IM STILL CRYING)  i just had to.

anyway, thing is basically Hawkeye comes back from Tokyo and finds out Trapper’s gone (there they go, breaking my heart again....) and he’s sad and also a bit mad because Trapper didn’t leave a goodbye note or anything that resembles.

(i was so mad because I knew Trapper left but i didn’t know that he didn’t leave a note!!!!!! or a goodbye letter!!!!!! but at least he left a kiss so that’s good, not a proper goodbye but at least something)

radar here delivers the message, good boy. 

anyway the thing is both Hawkeye and Radar go try to try find Trapper before he leaves against Frank’s orders because now he’s the new commander, and they miss him by ten minutes, but who is there to become the 4077 new surgeon? that’s right, mr BJ Hunnicutt.

Hawkeye’s not amused and misses Trapper, same here tho

so here’s the thing, i love BJ a lot but since i’ve always seen small bits of episodes, i never knew how his day encounter at the 4077 was. it turns his first encounter with anyone from our favorite mash unit was was right at the airfield, and with both Hawkeye and Radar. 

and this guy has just arrived, has little to none idea who these two are apart from the fact they’re from the 4077 and he’s just offering his help already. like he’s literally offering to help a random guy he met 0.5 seconds ago find someone he doesn’t even know he’s just???? so good?????

and Hawkeye doesn’t really want his help but he’ll just learn to like him in about two seconds.

and now look at him!!!!! already playing along, laughing along, i wish i could make good friends THAT easy, too. look at that smile!!!!

and he literally plays along by helping get Radar in the officer’s club plus he lies to a colonel in order to help Hawkeye justify what is Radar doing at the club when he’s no officer.

he literally just plays along i mean, can he be any better?????

he then helps them STEAL A JEEP and doesn’t say anything, he just SMILES ALL THE TIME like he’s so pleased about it.

now they are going back to the 4077 and they stop at a side of the road because there are two girls checking for mines in the field and five seconds later something blows and one is injured so Radar goes to the rescue, and we have a pair of concerned parents captains worried about their child Radar. 

luckily everything’s fine, even after a flat tire and an enemy attack.

and still on the road to the 4077 they encounter an army group that came from an attack, meaning they’ve got several wounded men to attend and they just help them of course and BJ sees a dead one’s wounds and can’t help but to vomit (this is his first day in Korea, remember?)

(i think Hawkeye said it best than i could ever had)

AND THEN THE ENDING. like, imagine you are BJ, you just got to Korea, you’ve been to a mined field, a flat tire + an enemy attack and your first experience in the field, fixing up wounded and dealing with those who unfortunaly cannot be fixed. and he ends up at Rosie’s, where he gets drunk with Hawkeye:

(see? here they are, drunk) 

AND THEN they make their way back to the 4077 with Radar, only to GREET FRANK WHILE STILL DRUNK and in the most iconic of ways:

i’m not lying i love him a lot. like imagine you’ve just gotten to a country you’ve never been in to serve as a doctor of a mash unit and your first hours turn out to be like that. and you just play along so well and already make friends (!!!!!). anyway all jokes aside he’s just genuinely such a nice guy I LOVE HIM, OKAY?

(bonus from episode 2 after he and Hawk sort of built a bar in Frank’s old part of the swamp and Hawkeye tells him Henry would’ve loved it):

(HE NEVER EVEN MET HENRY AND THERE HE IS, proposing that name because he knows it’ll make Hawk happy I mean I’m just in tears right now, what a supportive boyfriend) 

anyway, in case you had any doubts about it, i love mr BJ Hunnicutt.

#here's my essay on bj hunnicutt #i love him okay i do #sofi watches m*a*s*h (in order) #mash #m*a*s*h #mash 4077 #m*a*s*h 4077 #tv #hawkeye pierce #bj hunnicutt #radar o'reilly

[thealogie]

BJ just absolutely not listening to a word Hawkeye is saying, just staring at him thinking "now I am the goodbye note"

BJ not hearing anything after “I missed trapper by ten minutes” and mentally calculating when to best inconconspicuously get rid of the note he himself convinced trapper to write Hawkeye at the very last minute like “well they couldn’t have been THAT close if I had to convince him to write it, right? oh nooooo king! did you really miss trapper by ten minutes? Rudyard Kipling baby”

[finleyjayne]

Living a Lie: Chapter 2

Thank you for everyone who helped with this fic, including the fantastic @2smittinkittin​, the wonderful beta for this chapter, and @kittykatlow​, who is still forever supportive.

Summary: Penelope Grace Darling: the name you live by, the only name the world remembers. That doesn’t keep the memories of Y/N out of your head. All you ever wanted to do was create a better world. You thought you were doing that until some unexpected visitors to your hometown turn your world upside down. Can you leave your past behind you in order to keep your loved ones safe? Or will your fragmented memories keep you from the truth?

Pairings: Past Winter Soldier/Reader, Plus sized!Reader. Slow burn Bucky Barnes/ Reader.

Warnings: Dub/Noncon, Rape, Kidnapping, human trafficking (referenced), Underage Rape, Swearing, PTSD, Anxiety attacks, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Non-consenting drug use, underage Drug use, Violence, Domestic Violence, I’m trying to remember what else comes later in the series.

This is a Dark Fic if you don’t like it, Don’t Read It!

Chapter 1

Looking genuinely confused as you try to place the name with the context, your eyes flipping between the four people who were now staring at you. Three highly amused with your confusion and one completely flabbergasted. “Daisy calm down a bit? I am apparently missing something here, and you yelling is definitely not helping me piece it together.”

  At this, Clint bends over himself, clutching his sides as his laughter rips through his chest. What a sexy laugh? Even though it’s at my expense. Nat smirks a little longer than her usual quick flashes. Wanda, ever the peacekeeper, extends her hand, “Hello, My name is Wanda, but I’m usually more recognized by my superhero name: The Scarlet Witch. These are my teammates and friends, Natasha, or The Black Widow, and Clint, also known as Hawkeye. It’s very nice to meet you, Penelope. We definitely appreciate the help with the shoes.”

As her sentences click in your brain, your eyes grow as big as your glasses’ rims. Your jaw pops open, “Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you, too?” You say with a nervous laugh, well, this is embarrassing. “Thank you for coming into our store. Daisy, don’t do anything stupid. I’m going to go grab my purse, and then I’m going to lunch.” you face still plastered with saucer-sized eyes as you slip through the curtains.

How could I not know who they were? I know I use Daisy and Bruce as my source of current events, but I should at least know the Avengers’ faces. You grab your purse, slinging it across your body before proceeding out the front door toward the little corner bakery. At least I didn’t act like a complete fool. Daisy is probably freaking out. I shouldn’t have left her alone with them, she’s going to eat them alive. Who am I kidding? They’ll be fine, they are the Avengers, they can handle an over-excited almost adult. 

Thankfully, lunch and the rest of your shift flew by without any other famous guests. Your nerves were on the fritz, though; it felt as if someone was watching you. No matter what you did, You just couldn’t relax. Every movement drew your attention. Every sound made you flinch. As Bruce came through the door, you burst at the seams with the need to make your escape. You threw a passing goodbye to your boss as you jogged to your car, not even sparing a moment to change the radio back to a public station. You were out of the parking lot and on the road in seconds, causing Gertrude to complain loudly. Fighting off the sharp edges of the panic that blistered your mind. Within two blocks, you were pulled over, hand clawing at your chest, sight wavering as you throw Gertrude into park. Before you can even think about counting the rails in the fence, your vision is black. 

“Пожалуйста, прекратите! [Please stop!]” The high-pitched scream echoes through the small, dark room. “Вам не нужно этого делать [You don’t need to do this].” a shock of pain courses over your back as a second resounding crack follows. 

“Тишина [SILENCE],” comes the cold order. “Вы говорите, когда я хочу, чтобы вы говорите! [You speak when I want you to speak!]” two more cracks and, after a second, two more blazing paths are scorching your skin. Confusion is mixed into the muddled neurons of your brain as you hear the metal door sliding open. 

Cautiously you lift your eyes, peering over your shoulder, only to be met by another crack that catches you across the cheek. With another bloodcurdling scream, you fall onto your freshly whipped back. Holding a cuffed hand to your sliced cheek, you meet the coldest pair of steel-blue eyes you have ever seen. “Этого достаточно. Они готовы к этому. [That’s enough. They are ready for it]” came the icy baritone through the black mask. 

    Your assailant scowls at the man. “Пациент не готов. [The subject is not ready]”

    The empty-eyed man ignores him as he steps closer to you. “Они готовы [they are ready],” he repeats. He reaches for your arm mechanically. It was as if he was only going through the motions without knowing what he was doing.

     You flinch from his extended right hand, cowering away. “Вам не нужно этого делать [You don’t need to do this].” comes the pleading voice that you realize is coming from you. 

     He continues forward, dragging you out of the room to the scream of the man you left behind. “Она не твоя [She is not yours]!”

     Sobbing into the steering wheel of your beloved clunker, you hold onto your thick sides. The black-rimmed, ice-filled eyes continue to hover in your peripheral as you come out of the onslaught of memories. It’s not real, I am in Utah, they are not here, he is not here. I am safe. Coulson promised I am safe. After eight more deep breaths, your thoughts are cut off by a peppy, upbeat melody sung by a flowy lyric-soprano. “I know you can hear this Penny, so pick up, or I’ll sing it higher.” As the melody repeats for the third time, you scramble to pick your phone up. 

    “Delilah, I hope you realize that the ringtone you made me is, in fact, the cruelest practical joke anyone has ever succeeded in pulling.” You snip the need to portray normalcy coming through in your irritation at one of your best friends. 

    “I loooove you too, darling.” came the cloying giggle from the other end of the line. “Taylor and I were just talking about the Stark expo that is opening tonight. Also, we haven’t heard from you in a couple of days. Please save me from going to this thing without you. You can interpret Tay’s wild ramblings for me, and you can get out of that dungeon you call a bedroom for a night! It’ll be fun! Pleeeeeeeease~.” 

You can see the bright amber puppy-dog eyes she was giving you through the phone. There was no way she would let you off the hook if Taylor was dragging her to the Expo. Knowing Taylor, they had probably pre-ordered three VIP passes months ago and had been secretly geeking out since, waiting to haul us to their favorite displays and setting up the perfect itinerary. But also in their excitement, forgot to tell us about it until now.  

With a sigh, you throw your head back onto the headrest. “I’m going whether or not I want to, aren’t I?”

“You know us so well,” came Taylor’s dark-tenor chuckle through the speaker. 

“Well, I’m headed to my appointment up there right now. If you want to meet me at the east entrance of the Salt Palace afterward...” You resign, glancing at the radio clock in the dash. “I should be done by the time you get there, but I’ll text you when I’m on my way.” Delilah squeals, and Tay’s hums in contentment. 

“See you there,” they both reply. “Drive safe, Drive smart.”

“You too. I’d suggest taking Trax if you can. The parking is gonna be a nightmare. I can take y’all home when we’re done.”

“Sounds like a plan. See you there,” Tay calls through Lila’s squeals before hanging up.

Staring blankly through the window for a minute before turning on the radio and making your way back into heavy Utah traffic.  

An hour later, you pull into the large parking structure, running out of the car and into the blazing summer heat. Fucking Utah drivers. Unable to go a single day without causing some sort of preventable crash. Bursting into the large hospital, you clip your little identification tag before heading to the research lab where they run all their tests. Pulling your shoulders back as you scan your ID and pass the double doors that say: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

You follow the labyrinth of hallways to a small medical-exam room in the furthest corner of the buildings. X-rays, MRIs, and Photos were stuck to lightboards around the room. With a huff, you look away from the gruesome images, towards a devilishly-handsome blond clothed in SHIELD emblazoned shrubs and a University of Utah Hospital doctor’s coat. The modelesque picture on his ID not doing him justice. 

“Hello, Miss Darling, only ten minutes early. What happened, you get stuck in traffic?” His aggravatingly-nasal voice pierced through the sounds of him typing on his small laptop, reminding you just how much you dislike this man. 

“Yes, actually, Dr. Fenris. There were three crashes on I-15, and then there was a line of cars four miles long getting off for the Expo. I never realized that there was enough parking for that here.” I grit my teeth, plastering on my smile at his joke. 

“Well, I see no use dilly-dallying any further; if you’ll change into your gown and then sit on the exam table, we’ll start with that today, then we’ll head to the MRI and X-ray followed by your physical strength and endurance testing.” Dr. Fenris said as you grabbed the scratchy hospital gown off the end of the exam table and started changing. There is no use hiding your body, this man has seen every part of my it over the last four years since you’ve come back to the states. If you were honest with yourself, you would stop these useless exams. The longer they went, the worse you were being treated, and the more you get the feeling that something is wrong. It’s not like they were making any progress in making this “cure” that you are supposedly helping with. 

Gown on, you sit on the bed. Legs dangling off the floor slightly as you wait for Fenris to finish whatever he is typing. As he turns his attention to you with a smirk, a wicked glint enters his eye. “Look at that; just as predicted, your healing time has decreased since the last time you got an abrasion. This week we’re going to analyze how your platelets are going to react to different poisons.”

Looking at him cautiously, you move the slightest bit away from his seat.

“Oh silly, we are going to do it in the lab. Just a couple of vials of blood from you are needed. For now, at least.” He placates jovially, pulling out a tray of vials and a winged phlebotomy kit. 

You warily keep your eye on him as he comes around to the side of the table. Right as he’s about to stick you, a knock comes at the door. You look at the doctor surprised. He just gives a tight smile, showing a tight smile as he turns to the door, opening it. “Dr. Banner, I didn’t think you were going to come in today.” the jittery surprise made evident his cheerful mask. 

“I wasn’t planning on it. Then I noticed that the subject of your tests was going to be in today and couldn’t help but want to see her for myself.” responded the gentle-looking man with salt and pepper hair and black-rimmed, nerd glasses. “My name is Dr. Bruce Banner. I am here to check on the status of Dr. Fenris’ research.” 

“Hey,” you say with an awkward little wave, “I’m Penelope, but I guess you knew that already since I am his research,” you can’t help the self-deprecating chuckle and tight smile that follow Dr. Banner’s staring. “You just got to his favorite part. Fenris here was just about to stab me like Vlad the Impaler.” Your anxiety at Fenris’ obvious joy from your pain showing slightly.

Dr. Banner looked at you with complete horror. Turning to Dr. Fenris with a look of disgust. “I should hope not. It would be disappointing if this project were to stop. There is great potential for new knowledge and understanding here.”

Giggling slightly at the furious look Fenris throws you, your chest releases. “It was one time, Ms. Darling. And you healed before you even left the hospital.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t do it again, Dr. we-are-testing-your-platelets’-reaction-to-poisons-this-week. I feel like my cautiousness is well deserved, and I still hate needles,” you pout. “Now, if you’ll hurry up and stick me so we can get this over with. I’m supposed to be going to the Stark expo thingy. Gotta play the interpreter between my friends. Though, I’m pretty sure they are just using that excuse to get me to go with them.” 

Dr. Banner chuckled awkwardly as you turn to him, trying to ignore the deplorable doctor to your right. “Anyway, how hopeful are you for this research Dr. Banner? Are you going to the Expo? I hear that they will be talking about the new renewable resource cells Stark Industries is working on. I hope that they are planning on making them powerful enough to bring about an electric car. There are just too many oil refineries around here to be healthy. I personally would hop on that electric car bandwagon if there was one affordable and efficient.”

As you rambled, two large sterile culture bottles and six smaller tubes are filled with your blood. Dr. Banner keeps out of the way as Fenris goes about testing your reflexes and taking measurements of your leg, inspecting the other doctor’s work before Looking at the pictures, and medical imaging on the wall. “How long ago were these pictures taken?” He finally asks, pointing to the first set of photographs. Your leg was utterly ravaged, exposing the metal skeleton while the flesh looked like it was used as a cougar’s chew toy. 

“Four years.” I wince, remembering the carnage that Fury and Coulson had found me in. “Almost to the day.” 

“And this one?” gesturing to the next picture; muscle and tendon now in some sense of a sinewy leg. The skin overlying the fragile tissues without much scar tissue. 

“Two weeks later. The next is two weeks after that. I can tell you that growing pains are indeed worth all the crying that children do over them.” You joke, looking at the almost normal looking appendage in the picture, then at the more tone,d version currently attached to your body. 

“Can you feel it? When did it start?” You could tell that Banner’s questions were from a scientific fascination that made you smirk. He looked kind of like a little boy set loose in a candy store; intrigued, and full of genuine curiosity.

“I can’t really feel it, but my brain started to connect to it a few months after the initial accident. I am kinda glad I can’t feel it though. Getting back feeling all at once makes ‘pins and needles’ look like child’s play. Though according to Dr. Fenris, my body is apparently fully healed, and I could get the feeling back any second.” 

“Have you had today’s scans? Can I see them?”

“Not yet. That comes after the blood draw today, Then it’s time for some superhero training. Apparently, it’s not enough to take all my healing into account. I’m also being studied as a Superhuman… Fenris here likes to refer to me as a Supersoldier. I don’t really see how that fits since I never was technically a soldier-” 

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind me accompanying you, we can see what you can do. Who knows maybe by the end of today you’ll be vetted into the Avengers.”

“I don’t think that will be a possibility, Dr. Banner. I don’t think SHIELD is a big fan of my existence. I am only useful as a lab rat.”

The man looks to Fenris through the corner of his eye. “Is that right? I have a feeling many things about this research are going to be changing,” a deep undertone of discontent laced through the Dr.’s words. 

Throughout the next hour, more medical tests are done. By the time we are back into the little exam room, you are full of pent up energy. Now was your favorite part of these appointments. You get to actually use some of the ‘powers’ that You were given. You could set yourself free.

If you want more Winter Soldier fics, check out @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​. They have a great one called Breach.

Thank you all for reading.

Tags are open for this fic; I am also curious to see what you all think. Share your truth with me.

People I think will enjoy reading this: @star-spangled-beard-burn@angrythingstarlight​ @tossacoin2yourwitcher​ @navybrat817​ @nekoannie-chan​ @donutloverxo​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @nsfwsebbie​ @jtargaryen18 @buckys-broody-muffin​ @nacho-bucky​ @giorno-plays-piano​ @buckybarney

#Dark Fic #Reader Insert #Bucky x Reader #winter soldier x reader #dark!winter soldier x reader #winter solider imagine #winter soldier x you #plus size reader #Plus size Reader Insert #Darkfic #Living a Lie

[firewoodfigs]

chapter 4 of a slow unravelling is up ^_^ 

read on ao3 

some farewells are eternal, others temporal 

At age thirteen, Roy Mustang’s world was made up of thick, complicated books, pesky friends who bugged him to fix things for them and sisters who praised him for the little trinkets he transmuted, for this was the nature of most young alchemists learning to be proficient in the art. And while he enjoyed every glorious minute of it, he was admittedly starting to get restless, as most boys his age would from being trapped in a routine. For the most part, though, Roy was content to deal with it quietly - patience was a virtue alchemists had to master, after all - and so he tried to view these mundane days in Central as honing his craft, as delusional as it might have been.

It therefore came as no surprise that he immediately jumped at the opportunity to be shipped off to some unknown town for months - years, even, because the prospect of breaking out of said routine was both terrifying and exhilarating all at once, and Roy had always been the naive, adventurous sort of young lad anyway.

“You in there, Roy-boy?”

“Yes! What’s up, Aunt Chris?” Roy piped up in his squeaky, prepubescent voice as she opened the door. His aunt waltzed into his bedroom, frowning in disapproval when she noticed the books strewn around everywhere in a mess. He smiled sheepishly, but noted that her eyes were slightly red-rimmed - whether from alcohol or from crying, he wasn’t sure, but he took it as his cue to start cleaning up a little (or at least pretend to).

“I have a proposal,” she began. He peered up at her curiously from a particularly dusty tome. “How’d you like to learn alchemy under a certain Berthold Hawkeye?”

Roy’s eyes widened. Though his mouth was open, words eluded him and he didn’t quite know how to react to such shocking, yet exciting news. “I suppose that’s a yes?”

“Yes, yes! Of course!” he grinned from ear to ear, the thought of finally having a master sending him giddy with enthusiasm.

But suddenly he remembered: hadn’t that girl with the awful punch and her mother come from the countryside all those years ago? “Doesn’t he live quite far away from Central, though?”

“That’s right. They live in Tobha, so you’ll be staying with them during your apprenticeship.” Roy pouted glumly. “Oh, don’t look so down, boy,” Christmas said, although her heart clenched traitorously at the thought of sending her precious nephew away. “You can come back and visit anytime. And this is too good of an opportunity to let slip, no?”

He nodded thoughtfully. It was a golden opportunity, and the sudden offer was like an answered prayer.

“Then get packing, Roy-boy. We’ll leave in a few days.” As soon as she uttered those words and left, Roy set about packing immediately, excitement rushing through his veins at the thought of a new beginning.

~x~

On the other hand, Riza’s disdain towards alchemy only grew stronger as the days passed after her mother’s death. The incident that solidified her resolve to stave off alchemy was when she’d brought up the delicate topic of human transmutation to her father at her mother’s grave - something she’d only come across once in her life when her mother had tried to teach her alchemy, but never dared to try.

It turned out to be the most unwise decision, if her father’s rage was any indication to go by. The ultimate taboo, he’d called it. Sacrilegious - she didn’t understand what that word meant, but it must have been something bad. He had simply said that it ‘trespassed the territory of God’ and left it at that.

Riza’s father had never struck her as a religious man, though, so this only aggravated her confusion. Nevertheless, she learnt to never bring it up again, and though she was only all of ten she’d already come to learn that no amount of praying or wishing would bring her beloved mother back.

For the most part, therefore, she spent her days with her sobs and books and sniffles in the isolated quietness of her room. Once or twice, her father might have tried to console her, but his cold, callused hand was unlike her mother’s warm, loving one and provided little comfort.

Occasionally, she would leave the house for the grocer’s with the meagre lot of money her father left behind on the table. But interacting with the townsfolk, Riza found, only worsened the loneliness she felt. Though condolences were offered and sympathies were strewn around, as if distributing some kind of largesse, they were but meaningless platitudes that did nothing to quell the ache in her heart.

She’d come to realise, soon enough, that she very much preferred solitude to company. Unfortunately, her father had informed her that he had another apprentice on the way, and while she’d been terrorised by the previous one she suppressed her fear and simply agreed noncommittally over dinner when he’d asked her to pick them up upon their arrival.

Sighing, Riza sat on the battered swing in their backyard, clutching onto the loosening ropes tightly - as if doing so would preserve whatever was left of her childhood innocence - wishing her mother was still around to play with her and protect her from whatever monsters lurked around in their home.

~x~

“Call. Write. Visit.” Vanessa said sharply, already feeling Roy’s absence. Not that she would ever admit out loud that she was going to miss him: he could be a total pain in the ass, as all brothers were prone to being.

She stepped back to admire her handiwork once more before he boarded the train. Vanessa had taken it upon herself to dress Roy up for his departure and successfully transformed him into a clean, refined boy instead of the scruffy heathen that he generally was, and felt rather proud of the end result.

Roy grinned, not missing her hidden message. “I’m gonna miss you too,” and he reached out to mess with her splendid curls.

She grumbled. “Not the hair!” Roy laughed and hopped onto the train quickly with his aunt before she could get her revenge.

“I’ll see you soon!” He waved excitedly to Vanessa and his other sisters as the train began to depart Central.

Roy sank into the squeaking, rather uncomfortable seat with his aunt, opting for chips and soda for a midway snack while Christmas politely declined.

The thought of having to stand before Victoria’s grave already made her queasy, and she doubted she would be able to stomach anything much.

“Are you okay, auntie?”

“Yeah,” she replied, a weak smile gracing her tired features.

Roy remained unconvinced. His aunt clearly looked bothered, and it hadn’t just been this afternoon. “It’s just…” she paused, massaging her temples a little. “Do you remember Victoria?” Roy nodded.

Christmas sighed. It was hard to explain the concept of death to a thirteen-year-old, but Roy was no ordinary boy. Having lost his parents at such a young age he was well-acquainted with the concept, and in any case he’d studied enough alchemy to understand that the dead didn’t come back from their grave. “She… she died a couple of weeks ago, Roy.”

And suddenly, it clicked. Roy was well capable of taking care of himself despite his relatively tender age, and while he was not the most skilful cook around he would have honestly content to survive on country loaf and a quenched thirst for knowledge.

It wasn’t so much sending him off, as much as it was sending Victoria - the lady he thought he might have bumped into once more in Tobha - off. A chance for her to say her last goodbyes.

“I’m sorry, auntie,” he whispered, leaning over to give her a loose hug as she combed her fingers through his hair.

“I’m okay, boy. Just… make sure you work hard and study well, hm?” Roy nodded vigorously. “And one more thing. Take good care of her daughter, will you?”

Roy flushes in embarrassment, nose wrinkling at the unpleasant memory of the last time he’d met that girl.

Nonetheless, he relents. Anything to make Aunt Chris feel better.

~x~

By the time they arrived the sky was a pretty palette of turquoise and purple, white clouds streaking across delicately like gossamer ribbons. Unhindered by the influx of tall buildings that were Central’s trademark, one could easily see the flickering stars paying a routine prelude to the evening-time that was dawning upon Tobha.

Roy paused for a moment to admire the raffish charm of the rustic countryside, and as he did so he caught a whiff of  coffee and bananas welcoming him from the small bakery nestled inconspicuously at the corner of the train station. Despite the countryside’s beauty, though, the atmosphere felt more melancholic than peaceful, and this much was certainly reinforced by the mournful contrition buried within his aunt’s frown.

He reached over to squeeze his aunt’s hand tightly, wishing he could console her somehow.

Some farewells were temporary, like theirs, but others were permanent. Roy knew, from the grief splayed across her face in shades of grey, that a part of herself had dived down six feet under and died with her as well - an eternal farewell, a final ode to her short and enigmatic life.

“Thanks, Roy. Let’s go - wouldn’t want to keep a girl waiting.” Christmas raised her chin to draw Roy’s attention to the scrawny girl seated at the rugged bench on the other end of the train station.

His aunt nudged him to go over to where she was seated, and as the distance between them gets closer Roy realises that her hair was now a lot shorter than he remembered (not that he had a crush on her or anything - it was just difficult to forget the face of the first girl who had punched him for trying to do something nice). It was now a rough, hewn mane, falling somewhere around her chin, and though he figured she would have sent a baleful glare his way by now she seemed lost in thought, sorrow resting on her shoulders like an unwanted shawl.

“Hello, Riza. Thank you for waiting for us,” Christmas tapped her lightly on her shoulder, breaking her out of her reverie. She stood immediately to bow, a little ashamed at herself for being so distracted.

“Not at all. Uh…” Riza scrambled for her name, trying to recall what her mother had called her all those years ago.

“Just call me Aunt Chris, Riza. And this is my nephew - if you remember?”

“Roy Mustang,” he offered with the friendliest smile he could muster, but her propensity to respond with an odd mix of distance and disdain still remained intact after all those years - to him, at least.

“Um, yes. Sorry about that,” Riza says to his aunt, averting her gaze from his. “Shall we go?”

The trio walked together in companionable silence, Riza maintaining a distance from the both of them as she shrank into herself. Roy thought she looked no older than ten, but there was a certain air of maturity - the kind that was forged from hardship and turmoil - around her that didn’t sit well with him.

“Ah, Riza - was it?” came the unfamiliar voice of a stranger halfway through their journey. “I’m sorry about your loss, your mother was a great person,” he offered, but though sympathy laced his condolence there was a sort of half-heartedness to it.

“Thank you,” Riza murmured listlessly as she continued to move ahead.

Roy wondered how many times the girl had heard these senseless platitudes by now. Guilt lingered on the tip of his tongue as he ambled along, unsure of how to comfort the younger girl. Ordinarily, he would have opted for giving his sisters a hug or something along the lines, but they were very tactile and fond of his hugs. Riza, though, was anything but.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hey… are you alright?”

What a dumb question - clearly she’s not.  

“Yes,” she replied, as if out of instinct. Of course she wasn’t going to divulge her feelings to someone she’d only been acquainted with for a grand total of a few hours. Roy kicked himself mentally, though he was thankful that his Aunt had declined to remark on his stupidity.

“On that note, Riza… could we stop by your mother’s grave first?”

“O-of course, Aunt Chris. It’s… it’s in our backyard, so it’s on the way.” They continued the journey in a relatively peaceful quiet.

~x~  

Roy was both awestruck and mortified by the weather-beaten mansion that stood before his eyes. It was big, isolated - unlike the cramped cluster of buildings he’d grown up surrounded by in Central - and reminded him a little of a haunted mansion. The bushy, unkempt backyard only served to reinforce his unease, but he wisely kept his mouth shut as they arrived before the lonely tombstone decorated with wilting carnations and peonies.

He’d only ever seen Victoria once, and so grief didn’t hit him as hard - if barely at all. But his heart certainly ached seeing the way devastation devoured his aunt and Riza; how it darkened their eyes with a gloomy, sullen grey like the clouds above them.

The sky rumbled faintly, and he felt the barest hint of a raindrop on his neck - once, twice - but he knew this was nothing compared to the weight pressing on their sunken shoulders.

Roy watched as his aunt closed her eyes wearily, inhaling the faint scent of sandalwood around them. Her eyes watered as she heaved, inexplicable grief consuming her. Quietly, he reached out to intertwine his stubby hands with her callused ones.

The girl, on the other hand, stood proudly with a somewhat impassive expression, but she was biting her lip - hard - to keep from crying out loud. Her bottom lip quivered, her body trembled, and Roy’s other hand intuitively went to rest on her shoulder in what he thought was a comforting gesture.

Except she flinched violently like he’d burnt her.

“Sorry,” they both apologised hurriedly at the same time. Immediately he retracted his hand and stepped away from her, wondering if he’d done something wrong.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Riza jumped. She tapped on Christmas’ shoulder lightly. “We should go inside before we get caught in the storm.” As soon as she said that rain began pelting down viciously, unwelcomingly, and so she ushered them into the kitchen through the back door.

“Father’s in his room, but I’m sure you’ll meet him tomorrow morning…” she whispered as she poured tea for them, the prospect of having to enter his temple only served to unsettle her already troubled frame of mind further.

“That’s quite alright, it’s already getting late,” Roy said as he rose to help her bring the cups over to the oaken dining table, taking extra care to avoid any kind of physical contact with her. Friendly, but not touchy… “Have you had dinner, by the way?”

Riza nodded shyly as she followed him back to the table, warming her fingers with her own cup of tea.

“Thank you, Riza,” Christmas hummed appreciatively at the soothing drink. “You’re probably sick of hearing apologies and condolences, so I’ll refrain from doing so...” Riza said nothing, only stared placidly at the table top as she fiddled with the hem of her plain black dress. “Although - how are you coping, child?”

“I’m… I’m fine, thank you,” she muttered quietly. The rain was beginning to subside into a light shower, but even then Roy found that it had the effect of almost drowning out her quiet voice.  

“Are you sure?”

Riza nodded, keeping her eyes trained on her cup.

Christmas sighed wistfully at the awareness that she, like her mother, was a stubborn one who would neither budge nor talk readily about matters of the heart. She decided to let it slide. “Alright… if you need anything just…” she paused, unsure of herself - she wished there was more she could have done for the girl, but  she had to return to Central soon. “Just call me, or let Roy know.”

Roy caught the meaningful look his aunt gave him and nodded imperceptibly. Though he wasn’t particularly fond of the girl he took his duty to be civil - friendly, even - to her very seriously, and growing up with a swarm of women around him had developed an almost innate desire in him to protect the opposite sex.

“O-okay. Thank you, Aunt Chris.”

“Not at all. Alright, I should probably get going.” The drizzle had stopped, and she’d finished her tea. “Thank you for picking us up and for the tea, Riza.” She reached over to pat Riza fondly on the head.

Riza blushed slightly before excusing herself to fetch an umbrella for the older woman.

“So soon, auntie?” Roy pouted. Please don’t leave me alone with this girl.  

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to miss the last train.” Christmas pulled her nephew into a suffocating hug despite his muffled protests. “Take care, you silly boy. And take care of Riza, too.”

He nodded solemnly just as Riza returned with a blue umbrella. “Here you go, Aunt Chris, in case it starts raining again.”

“Thanks, Riza. You’re very sweet.”

Red mottled her cheeks with renewed vigour, and she ducked slightly to hide it. It’d only been a couple of weeks since her mother’s passing, but already Riza felt like an eternity had passed since she’d been privy to such open, unfettered affection.  

Christmas bent down slightly to reach her eye level. “Take care, Riza. Don’t hesitate to contact me if my idiot nephew does anything stupid, or if he bothers you in any way.”

“Hey!” Roy sputtered indignantly. Riza couldn’t help but chuckle faintly at the offer, and nodded in acquiescence.

“Right. I’ll be making a move first, kids. See you all soon.” Riza led them to the front door with a small smile. She liked the woman - she was funny, and every sliver of roughness was accompanied by a niceness that showed itself to the observant.

“Bye,” they chorused.

The two children found themselves standing awkwardly beside each other after Christmas left.

To Roy’s surprise, it was Riza who broke the silence first. “I’ll… I’ll show you to your room.” She began walking wordlessly, placing a careful distance between them. Roy trailed behind her with his bag, a brief smile gracing his features as the recollection of doing the same in a quaint cake shop years ago came back to him.

Riza shuddered when they arrived at the room, the disconcerting memory of a dastardly apprentice hitting her like a pile of bricks. She swallowed, trying to convince herself that she could take out the weedy boy beside her if push came to shove. Or at the very least, punch him in the nose or complain to his aunt that he was being a nuisance.

“Are you alright?” Roy asked, for the second time that day.

“Yes. I’ll leave you to rest... Mr. Mustang.”

His nose wrinkled in disgust. That makes me sound like some kind of ancient... grandfather…  

Before he could protest, though, Riza had already scurried away, leaving him alone with his unspoken objection.

Roy sighed as he entered the room - it was surprisingly neat and empty, cleaned to sparkling perfection - and dropped his bag on the creaking, wooden floor before flopping on the bed.

It had been a long day. Roy wanted nothing more to sleep, but the ceiling overhead suddenly seemed infinitely interesting - the only companion to the thoughts flooding his adolescent brain.

Already, he felt himself missing his aunt and his sisters. Growing up surrounded by noise and chatter meant that he was unaccustomed to such quiet solitude, but he had a nagging feeling that this was the very nature of the Hawkeye manor, if the girl’s personality was any indication. She was painfully reserved, and he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to break the ice, much less take care of her like his aunt had tasked him to. Any attempt at conversation had been nothing short of pathetic, and he highly doubted that anything beyond acquaintanceship was even possible.

Roy didn’t sleep well that night. Worry addled his poor mind, and though he’d tried to distract himself with alchemical theories the sun was already beginning to rise when he cracked his eyes open again.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #a slow unravelling #me: hi I wrote a royai fic #also me: no royai for two chapters #but I finally reunited them!! #much to Riza's displeasure #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #madame christmas #victoria grumman

[bpdjennamaroney]

mash a new gay musical act one summary

(no colonels bc i couldn’t decide which one to use and also i merged the plotlines of George and Sometimes You Hear the Bullet sorry for the burying)

ACT ONE

Frank Burns tries to get his staff in an orderly roll call, but they’re too busy whispering about how stressful and dull it’s been without Hawkeye Pierce (”Where’s Hawkeye?”) Frank scolds Klinger for his dress, argues with Father Mulcahy about their timing, and berates Radar for his terrible trumpeting. Eventually, Burns loses his temper and screams at the entire 4077. To his surprise, they burst into applause. Frank is placated--“Oh, gee, thanks, I...”-- but then he turns around and realizes the applause isn’t for him--Hawkeye is back!

Hawkeye makes a lavish diva entrance, a la Dolly and the waiters, “Great To Be Back,” but the jaunty tune is undercut by lyrics about the ravages of war. (Radar plays the trumpet.)

After the number is over, everyone departs except Hawkeye and Radar.

Hawkeye: Oh boy, that did not help my hangover. So loud! Like Merman at the Palace. Say, where’s Trapper?

Radar: Well, that’s what I wanted to tell you. He got his orders. He’s been shipped stateside.

Hawkeye can’t believe it, and worse, Trapper didn’t leave a note (”No Note”). Radar tells him Trapper just left, and since he’s picking up the new surgeon at the airport, they might be able to catch him (“Say Goodbye”).

Frank and Maragret review the file for Trapper’s replacement surgeon (“Our Kind of Person/I Bet He’s a Republican”), excited that the might finally have an ally against Hawkeye.

Hawkeye gets to the airport and finds out he missed Trapper by ten minutes. BJ Hunnicutt tries to introduce himself, but Hawkeye brushes him off. On the drive back, Radar cheerfully tries to make conversation. Hawkeye sulks. 

Immediately upon arriving at camp, a gown is slipped over BJ’s uniform and surgery begins (“Welcome to Korea”). Constantly switching between outfits and surgical table/dinner table/bed to show the passage of time. By the end of the song, he’s overwhelmed and asks everyone how they handle it here. Father Mulcahy responds in the style of a hymn, Margaret in a Gilbert and Sullivan-ish patter, Frank like a Sousa march, and Klinger vaudeville, and they all overlap. Finally, he asks Hawkeye how he keeps his sanity. Hawkeye says “I don’t!” and walks away. 

BJ takes a breath--and then another surgical table is placed in front of him. Surgery/”Welcome to Korea” begins again. He loses his composure, runs outside, and collapses. Hawkeye, finally thawing, comforts him. They make fun of old aphorisms about manliness and resilience (“Kipling”).

Klinger goes to Confession and makes up a bunch of lies that he hopes will get him discharged. Father Mulcahy tells him “I can only discharge you from eternal damnation, not the war, which, er, probably won’t go on forever.”

Outside the Confessional, Margaret and Frank awkwardly acknowledge each other.

Frank: What are you doing here?

Margaret: What are you doing here? Frank: Just here for a routine spiritual check up.

Margaret and Frank each confess to cheating on their respective spouses with someone at the camp. Mulcahy gives them Hail Marys or whatever, advises them to stop, then leaves. Once he’s gone, Margaret and Frank make out in the Confessional.

Back at the tent, Hawkeye and BJ plot a prank and get increasingly flirty. The mood is interrupted by a letter from BJ’s wife. BJ talks about his wife and daughter, Hawkeye talks about his dad and Crabapple Cove (“Back Home.”)

Radar informs them that there are incoming wounded. Hawkeye recognizes one of the soldiers, George, as an old friend. Frank recognizes the same soldier as a war hero, impressed by his accomplishments. BJ notes bruises on the soldier’s leg that are not consistent with the injuries he came in for, and the soldier admits that he was jumped by other soldiers for being gay.

Back at the tent, BJ and Frank argue about homosexuality (“What’s Right”). Frank points out that Hawkeye is conspicuously quiet, and Hawkeye takes a swing at him. BJ holds Hawkeye back, and Hawkeye storms out of the tent and to the recovery room.

George takes a turn for the worse. Hawkeye fights to save him, but he dies. Father Mulcahy tells him, “There are certain rules about a war. Rule Number One is: Young men die. And Rule Number Two is: Doctors can't change Rule Number One."

#mash

[jbhoneydew]

My first attempt at writing something M*A*S*H related, or writing anything in years. Please message me if you have any suggestions! I might post this to AO3 later.

The 4077th is faced with another cold, winter night and BJ isn’t handling the cold-snap too well. Hawkeye is there to help him out. (2.2K words)

(References to Baby Its Cold Outside (7x10) & Mail Call (2x23) )

__________________________________________________________

“Attention all personnel! Bundle up and grab some coffee in the mess while it lasts. It’s going to be a cold one tonight, folks!”

The bitter wind whipped in the air that would send a strong shiver down one’s spine. It seemed like yesterday the camp was soaking in the rays of the warm summer sun, but those days were long gone.

Time flies when you waste your days doing meatball surgery on wounded men and boys from the front lines - hoping they’ll live to see another day.

It was now the middle of November and the 4077th mobile hospital in Uijeongbu, South Korea was faced with a premature winter storm. The forecast called for flurries, strong winds, and below freezing temperatures that were not welcomed by the unit.

It was the second winter blast of the week and supplies were now low in stock. Extra blankets were non-existent in the supply room. They were either wrapped around patients in post-op or wrapped around the personnel like mummies. Firewood was also scarce due to the last storm. This left the unit scrambling to find supplies they would need to keep themselves warm. 

The unlucky personnel would have to find other means of warmth.

____________________________________________________________

Hawkeye sprinted across the compound towards the Swamp. He just finished his evening post-op shift and Charles had finally arrived to relieve him after being 20 minutes late. Hawk was bundled up from head to toe with his arms wrapped tightly around himself to preserve body head as he ran, a few curse words escaping his lips. The cold air was biting at his exposed face and all he wanted to do was curl up next to the furnace and sleep. 

He finally made it to the Swamp and swung the door open, practically throwing himself inside. 

“Hawk, the door!” His bunk-mate BJ greeted him from his own cot, trying to shield himself away from the bitter cold wind Hawkeye let in by burrowing deeper into his blanket.

“I got it, Beej. Cool it.” he muttered as he slammed the door shut. 

“Mother Nature beat me to it.” muttered BJ as he adjusted the army-issued toque on his head. His teeth chattering in the process. The winter storm was making him miserable. He wasn’t used to the sub-zero temperatures in Korea. It was a new concept.

Before being drafted, he spent his entire life living in California and rarely had to worry about being cold. Living in Korea for the past year  reminded him that not everywhere was sunny and warm like California. He knew it would be cold - but the draft board didn’t tell him it would be this cold.

Hawk wrapped the blanket on his cot around himself and crouched down in the middle of the tent where the gas stove usually was. He raised his hands out in front of it, expecting it to warm his cold and tired body.

He raised an eyebrow when he realized no heat emitted from the unit. He then realized the gas stove was missing. 

“Don’t tell me i’m going crazy. Could’ve sworn we had a gas stove in here. ” Hawk said in confusion. 

“We did, until about 10 minutes ago. Radar took it. He said post-op needs all the gas stoves they can find to keep the patients warm.” explained BJ as he shivered in his bunk. “The last time he did it, I hid his glasses in the meat-loaf. I think i’ll hide them in the latrine this time.” 

“This is just perfect.” Hawk said sarcastically. He stood up and paced around the tent in an attempt to keep himself warm without the gas stove.

“I’m already frozen from my head down to my toes and our good friend, Chuckles, is now sitting in post-op probably bathing in the warmth of OUR gas stove. Now we’re stuck here to freeze our butts off in this flimsy tent!” Hawkeye ranted. “He could’ve at least left his ugly polar suit or gloves to keep us warm! That little-” 

Hawk stopped himself when his eyes landed on BJ for a second time, noticing something different.

“Wait a minute….Is that my sweater?” 

“Mhm.” BJ mumbled as he lifted the collar of the sweater up to keep his neck warm.

The navy blue wool sweater his dad sent him last year was currently wrapped around BJ’s semi-slim frame, the collar of the fabric peeking out from under his olive green coat.

“First you steal my socks, and now my sweater. What’s next? My pants?”

“I was cold and I found it under your cot. You can have it back if you want if you want.” BJ replied as he began to undo the top buttons of the sweater.

“No, no.” Hawk replied as he placed a hand on BJ’s shoulder. “Keep it. I’m just kidding.”

“You sure?” BJ paused. 

“Yeah...it’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes. Not just my socks this time.” 

“Good. Because it’s very warm. Tell your dad I said thanks.”

“Your regards will be in my next letter to Crabapple Cove. Dad will appreciate it.”

“You know..I wish Peg thought of sending me a sweater. Instead she sent more rum cookies instead of something warm to wear. This is Korea we’re talking about. It’s freezing.” BJ half-joked.

“Keep it, Beej. I mean it. Besides, you look really good in my sweater.” 

BJ raised an eyebrow at him. “How can you tell?” 

“Just trust me. You look good.” he winked. 

Hawk laid down on his cot, pulling the thin army-issued blanket over his body to block out the frigid air with little success. He was cold, tired, and all he wanted to do was sleep. 

Hawk turned onto his side towards BJ. He was now sitting up in his bunk, his legs pulled towards his chest with his blanket wrapped around himself. He felt sympathetic for his younger bunk mate. He knew BJ wasn’t experienced in handling cold snaps unlike himself; who grew up in Maine and experienced cold snaps like this every winter.

He watched BJ pick up his most recent letter from Peg that sat on his footlocker and read it for what seemed like the fifth time this week. 

“Can’t get enough of that letter, huh?” Hawk asked, letting out a yawn. 

“Huh? Oh yeah. Keeps my mind off the cold.” BJ replied as he shivered again. 

“What’s new in Mill Valley?”

“She says that they had six warm days in a row. In fact, it was so nice she and my parents took Erin to San Francisco for the day. It says that Erin’s favorite part of the trip was seeing the Golden Gate Bridge. It says ‘I wish you were here to see it, BJ. Her eyes lit up like she was handed the moon. It was the cutest thing i’ve seen.’ Damn. I should’ve been there to see it too. I miss the warmth of San Francisco but instead I'm here about to catch hypothermia.”

“You will be there, Beej. We’ll get out of this dump. It won’t last forever.”

“The peace talks say otherwise.”

“Listen to me.” Hawk said as he raised his head from his pillow. “I will personally march myself up to MacArthur’s doorstep to personally stop this war if I have too. Just for you. You’ll make it out of here in one piece and you’ll see your wife and kid again. You’ll be back in sunny California in no time, and then you can come visit me in Crabapple Cove anytime you wish.”

“Who says i’ll visit?” he teased. 

“Says me. It’s only been a year but we’ve been through hell and back together. This isn’t a bond that can be thrown away once this war is over and we all go home. Trapper left without saying goodbye before you showed up and I haven’t heard a word from him since. I’m not letting you do the same. Besides, how am I supposed to live without Peg’s baking? It’s to die for.” he explained. He knew he was rambling on to BJ but he didn’t care - he needed a distraction from the cold.

“It’s a deal, Hawk.” BJ smiled, placing the letter back on his footlocker. He was lucky to have met Hawkeye, even in one of the worst circumstances possible. It was the only luck he seemed to have since he was drafted.

BJ laid down on his cot again and curled up onto his side.“I have post-op in the morning, see ya then, if we survive the night.” he said as he closed his eyes.

“Night BJ, don’t let the frost-bite get ya.”

BJ grinned. “Yes mom. Goodnight, Hawk.”

____________________________________________________________________________

A particularly strong gust of wind blew against the tent, waking Hawkeye in the process. It felt like the temperature dropped another ten degrees in the matter of hours. He was about to tug his blanket over his head when he heard someone’s teeth chattering. Hawk lifted his head up and noticed BJ visibly shiver in his cot. 

“Beej? You alright?” he half-whispered to him, wondering if he was awake or not.

He didn’t get a response for a few moments until BJ popped his head out from under his blanket. 

“Yeah. Just cold. Go back to sleep.” he mumbled as his teeth chattered more.

Hawk shook his head. Sleep was now a lost cause for Hawk at this point. The cold temperature and howling wind now made it nearly impossible.

Hawk was concerned for his friend who was shivering on the other side of the tent. He knew that he was having a tough time dealing with the frigid cold. It would’ve been a lot easier if the gas stove was here, but they sacrificed it for the patients.

Suddenly, he had an idea to help both of them. 

Hawk wrapped his blanket around himself and made his way over to BJ’s cot.

“Move over, Beej.” Hawk mumbled to the younger man, who moved over as much as he could without a complaint.

Hawk settled himself half on top of BJ and wrapped his arms around the younger man, their legs becoming entangled in one another. He then threw his blanket over top both of them.

“What’re you doin’?” BJ mumbled half-asleep, his teeth chattering once again.

“You’re shivering, so I’m keeping you warm. Damn it, BJ. You’re like an icicle.”

“Mmm. And you’re like a personal body heater”

“Glad I can be useful,” he smiled. “Come here.”

Hawk pulled BJ even closer to him, if it was even possible, and rubbed his arm gently in an attempt to warm him up.

They laid in silence for a while. They eventually rolled onto their sides and had their arms wrapped tightly around each other. BJ rested his forehead against Hawkeye’s shoulder, who had his chin rested on top of BJ’s head. They both fit perfectly in eachothers arms. Hawk smiled when he noticed BJ’s shivering had died down.

“Hawk?”

“Mhm?”

“Thanks for this. Feeling warmer already.”

“No problem, Beej. I’m here for you. No matter what. We’ll get through this.” 

They both fell asleep moments later, the storm already long forgotten as they curled up in eachothers arms.

—————————————————-------------------------------------------------

“Captain Pierce! Captain Hunnicutt! You in there?”

The swamp door creaked open, allowing the morning sunlight to illuminate the tent, and Radar timidly stepped inside the tent.

“Oh good. There you are, sirs.”

He found Hawkeye and BJ cuddled up together on one cot in the back right corner of the tent. BJ was snoring softly, dead to the world. His arms were wrapped tightly around Hawkeye like an octopus and his cheek was resting against his shoulder.

“Radar? What is it?” Hawkeye suddenly asked, startling the young corporel. 

“I’m sorry sirs but Winchester told me to tell you that he wants Captain Hunnicutt in post-op right away. He’s supposed to cover for him and he’s already 10 minutes late.”

“Hmm. Five more minutes.” 

“But sir-“

“I said five more minutes, Radar. I’ll make it an order if I have too.” 

Radar stared at them with his mouth opened slightly and huffed.

“Oh boy. You’re gonna owe Winchester for this. He’s already on my back as it is and I'm not the one who's late!” 

“Go, Radar. We’ll be there soon. I’ll leave last month’s volleyball nudes under your door for you if you tell Winchester to wait a few more minutes.” Hawk smiled.

“Yes sir!” and Radar was gone seconds later.

Hawk then turned his attention back to BJ. He didn’t have the heart to wake him up. He looked so peaceful curled up in his arms and honestly - it felt nice. 

Sure, Hawk spent the night with many of the nurses on the compound and girls back in his hometown but BJ was different. There was something about another man laying against him, seeking comfort that Hawk was more than willing to provide. He realized that he liked taking care of BJ. 

Hawk ran a hand through BJ’s hair and sighed happily. He could get used to this. For the first time in his life, he wished for more wintery cold nights like this. 

#writing #ngl this is kinda bad

[drgrlfriend]

[Read it on AO3]

Clint feels like he’s been asleep for all of two minutes before the bed starts to vibrate.

“Mrrrngggh?  Whuh?” he mumbles.

He pries his eyes open.  The whole front wall of his bedroom is awash in green, with yellow text.

NOTIFICATION

With a disgruntled huff Clint pulls his aids off the side table and fits them into his ears.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir.  I have a notification for you.  Sergeant Barnes is accessing the armory.  He has also obtained keys to a vehicle.”

Clint rubs a hand over his face.  “Why do I care?”  He’s got 99 problems, but the goddamn Winter Soldier ain’t, to his knowledge, one of them.

“You are the ranking Avenger on site, sir.”

Clint considers this horrifying prospect.  Although…

“Jarvis, am I the only Avenger on site?”

“Yes, sir.”

Well.  Some things never change.

Clint says goodbye to the prospect of sweet sweet sleep, shoves himself into a pair of jeans, and pulls his emergency bow and quiver from under the bed.  

_______

“What’re you, craving nachos or somethin’?”

Barnes pauses for only a moment, and then resumes strapping on the Kevlar tac vest.  He already has at least six knives secreted about his person that Clint can suss out, his Glock 17 strapped to his thigh, and his M4A1 across his back.

Clint watches as he fills his various pockets and pouches with ammo and a few grenades for good measure.

Clint hadn’t been sure what he would find down here.  He’s seen footage from D.C. — the empty-eyed Winter Soldier, the relentless killing machine.  And he’s seen Bucky Barnes, the man who has skulked around the Tower as Steve’s shadow for the last six weeks since he finally came in from the cold, hiding away in oversized hoodies and avoiding eye contact with everyone.  This is someone new — Barnes’ movements are purposeful, deliberate, but there’s full awareness in his eyes.

“You can pretend you never woke up,” Barnes suggests, and Clint is surprised to hear a trace of a Brooklyn drawl in his voice.  Those old ‘40’s film reels never had sound.  “Go back to sleep and act as surprised as anyone that I’m not here when they come back from mission.”

“Could do.”  Clint spins his bow at his side.  Under normal circumstances he would have faith in his ability to draw and fire in time to get the drop on anyone, even from this position.  But the Winter Soldier is a fucking exception, and if he wanted Clint dead then Clint would already be a corpse.

So Clint tries to look as nonconfrontational as possible, while still wondering what the fuck he’s supposed to do.  He’ll have to decide quick, too.  If Barnes tries to fit another grenade in his side pouch this whole place is gonna blow.

“What the hell,” he says.  He puts down his bow.  He thinks he sees relief in Barnes’ eyes for just a moment, and then Clint is pushing past him, pulling his own gear from his locker.  “I always did love a good road trip.”

They are past Philadelphia by the time Barnes finally asks.

“Why’re you comin’ with me?”

Clint stuffs a cold french fry in his mouth and washes it down with even colder coffee.  Yuck.  “Y’know, like I said.  I’ve always loved a good road trip.”

Barnes makes a face like Grumpy Cat.  “Why don’t you tell me the truth?”

Clint shoots him a sidelong glance.  “I’ve known you six weeks, and I haven’t said more to you than ‘Pass the coffee.’  Ask me again when I know you better, and maybe you’ll have earned the truth.”

Barnes turns his head to stare out the window.  There’s nothing but empty fields, and a sky lightening to dawn out there, but he seems to find it mesmerizing.   “Fair enough,” he finally says, so quiet that Clint’s aids almost miss it over the rumble of the engine.

_________________

Barnes seems to have been navigating on instinct up until now, but somewhere in Eastern Kentucky he pulls up some coordinates on a burner phone he produced from god knows where.  They approach slowly, stopping a few miles out, driving the car a good hundred yards down an abandoned mining road and covering it with brush for good measure.

They creep back towards the main road, hiding in the bushes when a supply truck rumbles by.

“You stay here,” Barnes says authoritatively.

“As if.”  So sue him, Clint has been hanging around with Katie-Kate a bit too much.

Barnes turns to him, and Clint feels the full force of those slate-blue eyes for the first time.

“This isn’t your fight.”

Clint considers it.  For about a millisecond.

“That Hydra in there?”

Barnes nods.

“Then it’s my fight.”

__________________

They’ve done a sweep of the perimeter, and it certainly checks all the boxes for a super sketchy neo-Nazi base, but Clint can’t help the little sliver of doubt that’s taken root in his mind.

“Wait,” he says as Barnes starts to approach.

“No,” Barnes says flatly, shaking him off.

“Gimme ten minutes,” Clint says urgently.  “Please.”

He can already tell that Barnes isn’t going to go for it.

“Ten minutes to make sure we’re not about to kill a bunch of innocent people,” Clint says, and Barnes’ eyes widen for the barest moment.  Then he’s back to looking impassive, but he nods, sharp and curt.

Clint pulls out his own phone, dialing from memory a number so secure it can never be entered into speed dial.  “Patch me through to Hill immediately, priority Hawkeye.”

He can see suspicion gathering in Barnes’ eyes, but — dammit, this is too important to just go in half-cocked, no matter what Barnes thinks he knows or remembers.

“Maria?  I’m sending you coordinates.  I need satellite confirmation that this is a Hydra facility in the next 8 minutes.”  He rolls his eyes.  “No, I’m not drunk.”

He transmits the coordinates.  They sit around staring suspiciously at the phone for what feels like an hour, but knowing Maria is probably 7 minutes, 59 seconds.

“Confirmed,” Hill says.  “We had suspicions of a cell in that area but had been unable to locate it.  Stand by.  SHIELD team will be on site in 50 minutes.”

“Yeah....so, about that —”

“Clint,” Maria says threateningly.

“C’mon, Maria.  You owe me, right?  You gotta give us this one.”  Clint doesn’t actually think she does, but hopefully she doesn’t keep good track.

And of course Maria picks up on the one thing he was hoping she wouldn’t.

“Who is us?”

Clint lets the silence speak for itself.

“Motherfucker,” Maria breathes.  “Okay, you’ve got until my team gets there to do what you’re gonna do, but if you get yourself killed on some cowboy mission, I’m gonna resurrect you just so I can kill you again myself.  And then I’m gonna resurrect you one more time so Natasha can do it.  Slower.”

“Sounds fair.”  Clint wouldn’t put it past her in the least.

_________________

For some reason, he and the Soldier move like they’ve been fighting together for years.  Barnes takes the left, Clint covering his six and right flank.

They hit the perimeter guards before they even see them coming, quick and silent, and then make their way to the facility.  They’ve cleared three of the six sections before the alarm even goes off, and four before the dumbasses seem to figure out what their walkies are for.

The Hydra guards have numbers, but their skillset is frankly embarrassing.  One gets in a lucky shot along Clint’s forearm, and Clint sees Barnes grunt from a few impacts to his Kevlar, but luckily none of these morons seem to know enough to aim for the head, or at least have the skill to hit it if that’s what they were aiming for.

They have the run of the place by the time they hit the last section, and Clint somehow knows without Barnes saying a word that this is where they’ve been headed all along.  Barnes’ jaw is set, his eyes like ice.  

He kicks open a door that looks just like any of the million other doors they’ve passed.  He grabs the gibbering labcoat inside by his hair, slams his face up against the retinal scanner, and holds him there until it beeps.  Then he casually knocks him unconscious against the wall and throws him aside.

A second door, reinforced with steel plating and more high-tech than any of the others they’ve come across so far, opens up.  The staircase behind is steep and dark, with a rough stone ceiling so low they have to duck their heads.  Part of the original mining tunnels, maybe.  Clint swallows down his claustrophobia and follows Barnes’ wide shoulders.

It gets colder and damper as they go, until Clint is sure that they are deep underground — he can feel the increased air pressure against his scarred eardrums.  After what seems like hours they come to another door at the bottom.  Barnes pushes it open without hesitation, revealing a small chamber carved from the stone.

Clint pulls in a sharp breath.  Everything makes sense all at once, like one of those optical illusions that you can’t quite figure until you look at it just right.

Clint had read Barnes’ files — everyone had to sign off on the debrief before he took up residence in the Tower.  He had seen pictures, but they hadn’t even come close.

The chair is grotesque, like something out of a horror movie set.  It’s bulky and sharp-edged, all metal restraints and partially-exposed wiring.  

Barnes stands in front of it as if frozen for a full moment.  Then he’s moving forward.

He starts with the head restraint.  He pulls it right off, and casts it aside.  It makes a horrible screech as it ricochets off the walls, metal against rough stone.  And then, like a dam suddenly broke inside him, Barnes is tearing at the chair — ripping it to pieces with his metal and flesh hand alike, careless of the injury he’s doing himself.  

“Jesus fuck,” Clint breathes.  The control panel is off to the side and Clint runs to it, finding the power inputs, yanking them before Barnes can fry himself.  Clint’s not sure he would even notice.

The chair is down to the metal frame now and Barnes is slamming his vibranium arm against it, a relentless reverberation that makes Clint’s teeth rattle.

Clint casts around for something, anything.  There’s a fire panel on the wall.  Clint opens it up.  It’s not perfect, but anything is better than this.

“Barnes,” he yells.  And when that has no effect, “Bucky!”

Barnes wheels around, hair wild around his face, eyes murderous, and for a moment Clint thinks he’s gonna be the next target of his berserker rage.

“Here,” he manages to say.  He holds up the fire axe he found.

Barnes manages a nod.  He takes the axe to the chair, sparks flying.  Clint backs away.  He’s got one eye on the clock now.  It’s gonna be good for absolutely nobody if they’re still here when the SHIELD team arrives.

Finally, they’re out of time.  “Bucky,” Clint says.  “Bucky!”  It takes a moment but Barnes finally grinds to a halt, chest heaving, arm dropping heavily to his side.

“Gotta go,” Clint says curtly.  

Bucky nods numbly.  He suddenly seems empty, exhausted.  The fire axe clangs to the ground.

Clint takes point on the exfiltration.  Bucky has his gun drawn but he seems dull, sluggish.

“C’mon, Bucky,” Clint snaps.  “Stay with me.”

Bucky manages to lift his head, and immediately takes out a guy who had come up on Clint’s right while he was distracted.

“Jesus,” Clint breathes.  That was a little too close for comfort.

He still feels like he’s dragging Bucky, deadweight in his wake, but they make it to their vehicle and are at least five miles away before they see the lights of the quinjet swooping down like Kentucky’s next top alien sighting.

__________________

Clint pulls into the motel parking lot.  He pulls a plaid flannel shirt from his pack, stripping off his tac suit vest and pulling it on over the plain black undershirt.

“Stay in the car,” he warns, but he’s not sure it’s even necessary.  Bucky looks borderline catatonic, face pale and eyes closed, head leaned back against the headrest like it’s the only thing holding him up.

Clint is so good at playing the Local Yokel he should get a damn Oscar for it.  He makes small talk with the front desk clerk about the disappointing soybean harvest this year and how fucking often John Deere forces software updates through on the new combines, and gets himself a room with twin beds at the back.  He pulls the car around and chivvies Bucky inside, sitting him down on the bed.

He’s wiping Bucky’s face with a wet washcloth by the time Bucky seems to blink back to awareness.

“There you are,” Clint says matter-of-factly.  “Take that vest off, looks like they got you.”

It was a lucky shot, getting Bucky in the side just below the tac vest, but it’s a through-and-through.  He stares stoically into space while Clint disinfects it with his kit, but it’s already healing.  He disinfects and wraps Bucky’s right hand too.  Where his palm was shredded from the metal of the chair new lines of pink skin are already starting to form.

“I’m gonna hit the shower,” Clint says, but Bucky catches him by his right arm.

“You now,” he says, his voice sounding rusty, and Clint realizes he’s still bleeding sluggishly from that gash across his left forearm.

He is able to disinfect it himself, but when he tries to apply the bandages Bucky makes an impatient noise low in his throat and takes over, carefully using butterfly bandages to close the wound and then covering the whole thing with a waterproof adhesive dressing.  

The attention is making Clint feel a little uncomfortable, but Bucky seems more with it than he’s been since they left the facility, and if having something to do helps him pull himself together a little then Clint guesses he can oblige.

The shower feels amazing, even if Clint is a little edgy without his aids in, taking it on faith that Bucky isn’t going to take the car and ditch him.  When he gets out, dressed in sweats and toweling his hair dry, Bucky’s still sitting right where he left him.

“Go ahead,” Clint says, nodding toward the shower.  “Water’s still hot, and we gotta wait at least six hours to make sure we don’t get caught in a roadblock.”

Bucky stares in the direction of the bathroom and blinks a few times.  “I didn’t bring clothes,” he says.  

Clint has the uncomfortable realization that Bucky might never have even needed a change of clothes post-mission.  Maybe they just put him back in cryo covered in blood and hosed him down later.

“You can wear some ‘a mine.  Sweats should fit,” Clint says.  He finds himself digging through his bag for the softest sweats and hoodie.  

___________

Bucky comes out of the steamy bathroom looking strangely adorable swallowed up by Clint’s clothes.  He’s still pulling on the hoodie and Clint can see he’s actually kind of lean.  He looked and walked like a tank in that D.C. footage, so he’s either lost a lot of muscle mass since then or he was heavily armored up at the time.  Maybe both.

Clint realizes he’s staring, and glances away.

“I’m gonna catch some sleep.  You can too, if you want.  I’ve got Jarvis scanning all the police frequencies.  He’ll alert us if someone’s headed this way.”

Bucky nods.  He sits on the other bed, facing Clint.  He doesn’t lie down or get under the covers, though.  Just sits there, and finally Clint shrugs.  He gets in bed, setting his phone alerts to vibrate and putting it under the pillow.  Then he turns toward the wall and tries to go to sleep, feeling Bucky’s eyes staring a hole in his back.

___________

Clint’s not sure what wakes him up.  He pulls the phone out and squints at it, but it’s clear of alerts.  He puts one aid in, turning toward the other bed.

He can just make out Bucky’s silhouette.  He’s still just sitting there — back straight, feet on the floor, facing Clint.  Fuck, does he actually sleep like that, like a deactivated robot?  Does he even sleep at all?

“Bucky?” Clint says cautiously.  

Bucky seems to tip backwards a little, and then suddenly he’s jolting upright, gasping for air as if he’s been drowning and just finally managed to break the surface.

Clint turns the light on.  Bucky’s shivering, his hair wet with sweat, his eyes wide, and — fuck.  How a 100-year-old Soviet murderbot can manage to look like a pathetic drowned kitten is nothing short of amazing, and Clint can’t stop himself.

“Hey,” he says.  “It’s okay.  You’re okay.”  He moves cautiously until he’s sitting next to Bucky.  He tentatively puts a hand on Bucky’s arm, and then when Bucky leans into it he wraps it around his shoulders.  

“Clint?” Bucky says, all confused-sounding, and Clint has the bizarre realization that this is the first time he’s ever heard Bucky say his name.

“Yeah, it’s me.  I’m here.”

Bucky makes a low, wet noise, and then suddenly he’s huddled into Clint’s side, clinging for dear life.  

“I thought I was in the chair again,” he whispers hoarsely.  “I thought they got me.”

“Hey.  No.”  And Clint knows this feeling — God, he knows this feeling all too well.  It feels like Bucky is digging up with ragged fingernails everything Clint has buried in his chest and hoped never to remember.  “That’s never gonna happen.”

“It could.”  Bucky pulls in a shuddering breath.  “There’s more of ‘em.  I don’t know where, but I know that there are.”

“Hey.”  Clint cups Barnes’ jaw, forcing his head up to meet his eyes.  “Then we’ll take out every single one of ‘em, just like we did today.”  He sees that it’s not enough.  

It feels like cutting his own chest open, but he forces himself to say it.  “They tell you what happened to me?”  

Bucky looks confused for a moment, but then realization lights his eyes.  Maybe he hadn’t remembered until now, but someone must have briefed him.  

Clint pulls in a deep, shuddering breath and says the one thing he took comfort in himself, after Loki.

“Worse comes to worst I’ll put an exploding arrow through your eye socket before I let them use you like that again.  I promise.”

Barnes shivers again, and some of the tension seems to melt from his body.

“Yeah?”

Clint nods.  

“Okay,” Barnes says.  

He seems to be embarrassed now as the panic fades, pulling away from Clint’s side.  “Okay,” he says again, voice like gravel.  He nods, as if trying to convince himself, and drags his body upright.

“You wanna try to get some more rest?” Clint asks.

Bucky shakes his head.

Clint checks the time and shrugs.  “Roadblocks should be lifted by now, and we got a long drive.  Let’s get some coffee.”

_________________

Bucky is staring out the window again.  Clint has tried setting the radio to the most atrocious radio stations he can find, but he’s getting no reaction at all.  It’s not that weird blankness that Bucky had when he got out of the facility, though.  He just looks pensive.

“Do you know me well enough to ask again?” Bucky finally says.

Clint turns down the radio station — is that a fucking mariachi band? — and shoots Bucky a sidelong glance.  “Ask what?”

“Why you came with me?”

“Oh.”  Clint drums his fingers on the steering wheel.  “Well, I’ve been calling you Bucky in my head instead of Barnes since we got out of that place, and I did promise to kill you.  I don’t know if that makes us BFFs, but it’s probably enough.”

Bucky snorts, but his eyes are searching as he waits.

Clint wonders how much he’s gonna piss him off.  But, he did ask for the truth.

“I watch people.  Like, nothin’ personal, it’s just a thing.  Since I was a kid, maybe.  So I been watchin’ you since you got to the Tower.  You come to breakfast, you eat whatever’s on the table.  You sit in the lounge, you watch whatever’s already on t.v.  Hell, you drink hot chocolate with Sam, coffee with me, and that horrible apple tea that no one else could ever possibly like with Wanda.”

Bucky’s eyebrows have been drawing down as Clint’s been talking, like he knows where this is going.

“So?” he asks anyway.

“So....in six weeks, I’ve never seen you make a single choice.  Never seen you ask for anything for yourself.  Figured whatever had you choosing now must be pretty important.  ‘Specially if you couldn’t even wait for Cap.”

Bucky swallows thickly, and looks out the window again for a while.  “It was,” he finally says.

“Yeah.”

_______________

They’re quiet for a long while.

“Not like I’m gonna get many choices where I’m goin’, anyway,” Bucky says eventually.  His voice is just...resigned.

“Whaddaya mean?”

Bucky shrugs.  “The Raft.  Back in cryo.  Wherever they’re gonna put me for leavin’ the Tower like that.”

“What?”  Clint takes his eyes off the road to check, but Bucky’s serious.

Clint shakes his head.  “I thought you were supposed to be smart,” he says.  “Don’t tell me I read the conditions of your release better than you did.”

“What?”

“It’s not that you’re not allowed out of the Tower.  You’re just not allowed out of the Tower unless accompanied by an Avenger.  Guess Steve put that in there, was probably planning some field trips once you had settled in.  And as luck would have it, you happen to have had a certified Avenger, right here in the car with you the whole time.”

The look on Bucky’s face is priceless.

“Really?”

“Am I really an Avenger?  Surprising, I know, but yes I am.  Nobody ever remembers the tallest Avenger.”

“Cut it out,” Bucky growls.  “Does it really say that?”

“Sure does.”  Clint can’t help his grin.  “So there you are, a world of choices, stretching out in front of you.  And on that note, I’m gonna hit up a McDonalds.  Have you ever had those apple-pie-in-a-cardboard-tube things they have there?  Those things are amazing.”

Bucky’s face does something weird and complicated.  Clint waits it out.

“I’d rather have a milkshake,” he finally says, and...aw.  Clint tries to ignore the little warm feeling that causes in his chest.

“An’ I’m pickin’ the radio station,” Bucky says, reaching across the console.

Clint blocks him, and ends up just tangling their fingers together.  He gives Bucky’s hand a little squeeze, and Bucky squeezes back.

“Don’t push your luck.”

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