eclispedmoon

[eclispedmoon]

Piece of a WIP

There were nights in Korea when Bj couldn't sleep; most nights actually. Even when his body was three steps beyond exhausted, his mind would race through every thought he'd ever had since childhood, and when then the squeak of his cot as he tossed and turned got to be too much, he would slip on his dusty boots, and his tattered blue robe, and cross the compound to the mess tent, empty except for a handful of others in the same position as him. 

Perched at a table in the corner, he would reread the latest letter from Peggy two, maybe three times before folding it back up and carefully slipping it into his pocket, his mind now running towards new anxieties that haven't even happened yet, and maybe never would. 

When dawn started to approach, he would go back home to the Swamp, and make sure that Charles was still covered up in cot, because even a pompous jerk deserved a comfortable night's sleep if he could get it, and then BJ would miss falling back into his own bed by a few feet by sinking into the chair next to where Hawkeye laid. 

It would take him at least a minute for him to find the courage to turn his head to look at his friend's war weary face, because he all ever wanted to do in those moments just before the birds started to sing was to soothe his own restlessness, and reach out and trace the worry lines around Hawkeye's mouth, smooth away the crease of fear in his forehead, and help him forget where he was, how long he'd been there, and just how much longer it could be before he got to go home. 

Truth was there was very little Bj didn't want to do for Hawkeye. Even though he wasn't a violent man, he was fairly certain that he would kill for him; he might even die for him too. 

Another truth, one he tried not to think about, was there were other places Bj wanted to touch on him, but for far less noble reasons than war and friendship. 

He couldn't pinpoint when it happened; was it one sticky evening when he looked up from a glass of their gasoline gin and their eyes met mid laugh? Or was it when they were walking shoulder to hip through the mud on their way to post-op? Bj had no idea, but somewhere in their time together, he started to look at Hawkeye in a way he'd never looked at anyone else before - not even his wife in those early days of falling in love with her.

God, he wanted him like a soldier longed for peace! And maybe he was delusional, maybe he was crazy, but he was pretty sure Hawkeye wanted him too.

Sometimes Bj imagined them far away from their hellscape of brown and green, and blood and death; their faces golden from the warmth of the sun, their feet clean by the blue of the ocean. He imagined there was a place in the world where they could still exist together, and he wished as much as he didn't that his feelings weren't just a symptom of his immense loneliness, just a circumstance of war. 

A war that eventually did end. A war they both walked away mostly whole from, and settled back into their lives on opposite sides of the same country. 

Bj could barely stand it at first. 

After the high of making love to Peggy once again wore off, he found himself wandering the house at night, looking for Hawkeye's face in the darkness, searching for his laughter in a crowd; wondering what he was eating for breakfast, if his coffee was hot enough, if he was taking a pretty girl out on a date; if he was thinking about Bj too. For a year Hawkeye’s manic presence was the only thing that brought him comfort, and suddenly it was gone, and the whole world had fallen silent. 

He tried to write to him a hundred times, but once he stopped himself from spilling out everything he shouldn't say, all that was left on the paper was: dear, Hawkeye, I miss you, and even that was too telling. So, he never wrote, and he never got a letter, and he told himself that maybe whatever part of Hawkeye belonged to him was left behind in that abandoned hospital in Korea. 

Then it happened.

Three days after he turned thirty, in the same stack of mail that brought him his final divorce decree was a bright red envelope, B.F Pierce, M.D, Crabapple Cove, ME stamped in the corner as the return address. It took him until sundown, and two old fashioneds before he opened sat at the kitchen table of his city rental and opened it. 

Happy birthday, Beej

I miss you.

-Hawkeye

[eclispedmoon]

[eclispedmoon]

i wonder how big the mash jeep budget was

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having a cat is so miraculous. this little guy wants to sleep in my bed with me and purr on my chest. it’s his favorite hobby. no one told him to do that he just Loves His Mommy

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was gonna make a “trapper? i hardly know her!” joke and then i realized that’s literally how he got his name

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Me when my terrible boyfriend who I love so so much is absolutely the worst

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Relating too hard to hawkeye pierce should be listed as criteria for diagnosis in the dsm-v

[eclispedmoon]

things to ask yourself when designing a female character:

how much blood is she covered in

are her eyes filled with madness

can she rip things to shreds with her fingernails

[eclispedmoon]

talking to myself out loud and disagreeing with myself every now and then so that the spirits lingering in the cold corners of my room don't accuse me of monolithic thinking

[eclispedmoon]

i deal so incredibly well with change!!! my natural reaction to it is just so positive!!!! i really take it in stride!!! i don't even give myself migraines and gastrointestinal issues and night terrors!!!!

[eclispedmoon]

based on mash episode s2 x ep13 ‘deal me out’

the 4077th hosts the conference, once again, and a lovely korean woman whose son they were treating baked them a platter of brownies/cookies as thank you. except, she doesn’t tell them they’re edibles, and the episode slowly revolves as the characters slowly crash out.

cap pak knows immediately but doesn’t say anything. he actually means to say something after his turn, but he forgot by the time everyone folded or called.

trapper knows immediately too, but he doesn’t anything cause he thinks’ll be funny seeing everyone realize.

klinger actually eats everything in sight. he eats another edible, not realizing, and ends up couchlocked (chairlocked?) and can’t move or speak.

sidney keeps having to bring his cards closer to his face to see the numbers, and he still can’t see them. poker face becomes even worse. paranoid, unfortunately, but only internally cause he knows he’s got paranoia.

colonel blake is that type of paranoid that crashes the party. the one where any little noise scares him. radar has him pissing his pants every time. also smokes his cigar without lighting it.

hawkeye’s the one that it makes him so fucking funny. he’s just saying every thought that pops into his head. no care. worse then normal. also takes 20 years to deal and make his turn.

bonus: radar comes in and finds everyone passed out, sees the edibles, and polishes off like 3 or 4 without knowing. they find him in colonel blake’s chair unblinking because he’s ‘scared of the dark’

[eclispedmoon]

writing is so fun

[eclispedmoon]

i can pump out ideas like a madwoman but writing them? putting words to paper? nuh uh. go pout in the corner, bee.

[eclispedmoon]

I want to play little mind games with him. I want to see him whimper. NO. I MEANT I want to test his chivalric nature and see if he will meet his fate with bravery and honor…and whimpering.

[eclispedmoon]

rip hawkeye pierce, you would’ve loved pink pony club by chappell roan

[eclispedmoon]

something so hauntological about watching mash season 3 knowing how it ends...none of the characters know henry's never going to make it home, the actors all found out in real time. but the narrative knows how this ends, and the narrative is waiting with an open mouth. so the narrative has henry prefigure his own death throughout the season. in o.r. when hawkeye reassures him one day you're gonna have to go back and die in your bed in bloomington, henry says that he's done that several times. he complains in private charles lamb that everything in this country disappears except me (untrue) followed by boy, would i like to wake up some morning, look down and find myself gone (true). when he gets trapped in the wreckage of the latrine in bombed he knocks twice for "dead" rather than three times for "alive." then there's the scene in the consultant where he soaks in the pool, calling it heaven but says the water could be just a titch warmer (burning burning burning), avoiding conversation with frank by submerging himself underwater. henry spends the whole season unknowingly rehearsing his impending death. he goes around camp trying on other people's deaths for size, haunting the narrative before he's even out of it.

in conclusion:

[eclispedmoon]

I'll block a bitch on letterboxd I'll block a bitch on airbuds widget I'll block a bitch on goodreads I'll block a bitch on microsoft teams