#yeah I think maybe his death shifted my personality and habits and hobbies a fair bit

[witchcraftingboop]

Friend I haven't seen in months: You seem different

Me, mock-saluting back: Thank you, Captain Obvious

[connortakesnewyork]

NYCRP Character Interview Task

How does your muse react to others breaking the law? If they would do it themselves, what is their reasoning?

Connor frowned as he considered the question, “I think you shouldn’t, most of the time. But I mean, unless it’s hurting someone else I don’t think it’s a huge deal.” he said after a moment, giving a small shrug, “I mean, I know I did my fair share of underage drinking, and a little medical marijuana that might not have been exactly legal.”

Does your muse have a loud personality or a quiet one? Do they enjoy being the center of attention, or would they rather watch and listen?. 

He laughed, “Yeah, ah, I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of being quiet. Ever.” he said, shaking his head with amusement, “I guess I’m definitely kind of an extrovert so ... yeah, I like attention. Or I mean, at least I like to socialize.”

What is your muse’s relationship like with their father? Is it good, bad, or complicated?

“My father ... is better then my mother, I guess?” he said after a moment. “I mean, he never treated me like crap, he just ... well, he didn’t treat me like anything. I don’t feel like I’ve ever even really talked to the man. He was as absent as he could be when we still technically lived in the same house. I cut him off when I cut my mother off, and he didn’t seem to care much about that either.”

What is your muse’s relationship like with their mother? Is it good, bad, or complicated?

Connor sighed, "My mother sucks. She never actually wanted me, she had her perfect family already.” he said, making a face. “She pretty much just spent most of my childhood alternating between pretending I didn’t exist or insulting me. She’s, ah, she’s said some pretty awful things. I cut her off a while back, we haven’t actually spoken in two years. She doesn’t even know she has a granddaughter.”

What is your muse’s relationship like with their siblings? Who do they get along with best?

“Colin and Chloe are awesome!” he exclaimed happily, “I mean, they’re the ones that basically raised me, even though they were still just kids when I was born. But, you know, they’re the ones that took care of me, answered questions, came to all the events, were with me when I was sick. It was always them. I’m really close to both of them, but I guess Chloe worries a lot. She can get kind of ... hover-y? Colin’s easier to talk to sometimes.”

How often does your muse think about death? Do they think about it at all?

Connor blew out a breath, “Oh, wow. That’s a deep one.” he said softly, “Um, I mean, yeah. I think about it all the time. Cancer, I mean ... it leaves a mark, definitely. And it’s never really cured. I still haven’t even reached the five-year 'it probably won’t come back' mark yet either. But I’ve got a little girl now, so you know ... I mean, it can’t. I guess I worry about it a lot. And then with the friends that ... I’ve lost three very close friends. I could never forget about them either, they all died way too soon. My daughter’s actually named for one of them.”

How would your muse react to losing a best friend? How would they cope?

“Oh, well, I guess I sort of just addressed that. I was really close to Aaron and Blakely before they passed but Julian ... Julian was my best friend. We were roommates and we just, we just clicked, you know? My other best friends are older, it was kind of nice to have someone my age, doing all the same stuff. When he died ... I mean, I guess it was similar with all them but ... well, mostly, I got drunk, and I cried, and I moped. And then I decided they’d all be infuriated with me for doing that. So I just decided to never forget them, to keep their memory living on. That’s why Eliana’s named for Aaron. And when I have other kids someday, I hope to name them after Blakely and Julian.”

How does your muse handle their emotions? Do they bottle them up or pour them out as soon as they start to feel?

Connor shrugged and let out a small sigh, “I think I’m kind of a ‘heart of my sleeve’ kind of guy.” he admitted, “I guess I don’t really hide all that much. I mean, details maybe. There’s some stuff I don’t talk about in that much depth but ... I think people pretty much always know what I’m feeling.”

How does your muse feel about their body? Would they change it if they could?

Connor fidgeted a little in his seat, “Oh, well, that’s personal...” he said, frowning for a moment before answering, “I’m ... I’m more comfortable with it then I was. But I still ... I mean, sometimes it really sucks to have something that makes you so different. But I try to be open about it, I try to accept it. I don’t really hide the leg. I just ... don’t exactly let people see me without it either, unless the stump is totally covered. So I guess, yeah. I’d want my leg back if I could have it.”

What would your muse change about their lives if they could and why? What do they wish their lives were like now?

“Well, that’s a loaded question too.” he said before running a hand through his hair. “Well, for starters I want my wife back. And my daughter healthy. That’s ... I’d be happy with just that. And then, well, I’d like parents that don’t suck, a healthy body, and two legs. And I’d want all my friends to still be alive.” he said before shifting uncomfortably, “I don’t like these questions. I don’t like thinking about stuff I can’t change.”

In a perfect world, where would your muse want their life to be in five years?

“I’d want Harmony back. I’d want us to be happy, maybe with another kid. Ellie would be just fine, no problems from all of this. All my friends would be happy too, Brendon would have found his brother, but he’d still be my kid too, I’d still see him all the time. I’d be graduated, have either my own practice or be working in a hospital. And maybe ... well, in a perfect world, I guess things would be a little better with my parents. We could at least be civil.”

What are three issues/causes your muse feels are incredibly important? What draws them to feel so strongly about these things?

“I guess, like anti-bullying, anti-violence in all forms. I just wish people could be nice to each other.” he said, shaking his head in frustration at all the things he’d heard about lately, “I don’t understand how people can just be so mean like that. Life’s too short to spend yours just ruining other people’s. Let people be who they are and just be happy.” he added firmly. “And then accessibility. Like, the lack of it is insane. Did you know only a third of the subway systems in New York are handicap accessible? Do you know how frustrating that is when I can’t wear my prosthetic? It’s so obnoxious. After that ... only three, really? Well ... I guess maybe mental health awareness? People need to be more willing to talk about it, not so afraid to speak out or get help. People need to understand it more.”

What hobbies or skills does your character have and how important are they to their life? Is it something they spend a lot of time on? Why or why not?

“Are superheros a hobby? I think they’re a hobby. To me they are, at least. And then like, movies in general. I really, really love movies.” he said with a grin. “I used to play sports as a kid too, so I guess I like watching them still too. But as far as like ... actually doing things? I definitely like video games. I sound like such a stereotypical guy right now, don’t I? Well, I bet you didn’t know this, most people don’t cause I don’t have a lot of time for it anymore, but I can crochet. Chloe taught me when I was in the hospital the first time I was sick. I actually have made a few things for Ellie.”

What would be three songs to the soundtrack of your muses life?

“Oh, I’ve actually thought about this one! Let’s see, just three...” he bit his lip for a moment in thought, “On Top Of The World by Imagine Dragons, In My Arms by Plumb, and ... well, I try to be kind of like One Call Away by Charlie Puth for my friends.”

Do your muse have any bad habits? If so, what are they, and does your muse plan to get rid of them?

“I talk too much, I know that. But I guess it’s not really something I’ve thought I need to change?” he began before frowning slightly, “And, well, I guess some people might say I drink a little too much. It worries my sister. But I’ve got a handle on it, it’s not really a problem.” he added, “But I am too impulsive. I probably should work on that, now that I’m a dad.”

[angryhausfrau-writes]

You Can’t Cross the Same River Twice - Chapter 3

Trapper's shift starts disgustingly early and he's moving around the dark bedroom as quietly as possible, obviously trying not to wake Hawkeye as he gets dressed. But after sleeping so much over the past few days and going to bed reasonably early the night before, he's awake anyway. So Hawkeye turns on the lamp and he's treated to the sight of Trapper in shorts, socks, a mis-buttoned shirt, and and a severely off-kilter tie. Hawkeye laughs at him as he fumbles to straighten everything out.

"Sure, laugh it up. A guy tries to be considerate and this is the thanks he gets? Next time I'll just turn on the light at 4 am - see who's laughing then." But he's smiling, face so full of openness and warmth Hawkeye can't stand it and he has to go kiss him right on his stupid - adorable - overbite.

They kiss for a while, and they're both clearly interested in more, but Trapper has somehow become a responsible person in the year and a half since he left Korea. So rather than taking off the clothes he has on, Trapper pushes Hawkeye gently away and finishes getting dressed. And then they go downstairs to eat breakfast together. Maybe it's not the quickie Hawkeye was hoping for - and that definitely would have made Trapper late for work, because Hawkeye doesn't feel like being all that quick - but this is nice too.

And if, after Trapper leaves for work, Hawkeye takes a very long, hot, pleasureable shower, well that's between him, fantasy Trapper, and his own right hand.

Hawkeye's morning isn't altogether unproductive, though. He writes his dad finally. He'd sent a telegram from San Francisco saying he was back stateside, but nothing since. And it's a short letter, just letting his dad know he's fine and in Boston with Trapper and that he's not ready to come up to Maine yet but loves and misses him. The letter is a load off Hawkeye's mind, though. He doesn't want his dad to worry, but he also can't face him in person yet.

Hawkeye also writes letters of introduction - or reintroduction - to the various clinics around Boston, eager to get back to practicing real medicine after so many years of meatball surgery. And he's hoping to be rehired at the clinic in South End because it's familiar and close to Trapper's house and on the bus line. Because, the thing is, he doesn't technically have a driver's license. He hadn't needed one to drive in small town Maine - and he was rarely able to borrow his dad's car since it was needed in case of medical emergencies - and he hadn't needed to drive at all in big cities like New York or Boston. And though he'd passed the Korean version of a road test, it doesn't count in the states - and Rizo had maybe gone a little easy on him. He had once managed to flip a Jeep and give himself a concussion after all. Anyway, Trapper doesn't have a car he could borrow. Apparently that had gone to his ex-wife in the divorce. But, Trapper said, he'd gotten the house and he doesn't live out in the suburbs like Robert and now Louise so he hadn't minded too much.

So Hawkeye can't drive, legally or otherwise, and he figures he should probably get used to taking the bus as soon as possible. He and Trapper had taken the train when they went downtown - a mode of transportation that doesn't yet have any negative associations for Hawkeye - but it doesn't run everywhere. So he girds his proverbial loins, checks a bus schedule, and plans a trip to buy knitting supplies. It's a relaxing hobby and Hawkeye figures he'll need that after the day's adventure in public transit.

And it's not so bad really. The bus looks completely different for one thing, and there are no kids on the bus - just a few elderly ladies that kindly don't say anything about his tense posture and desperate staring out the window - his way of making sure he doesn't get magically transported to Korea. So Hawkeye makes it to the dry goods store ok and buys needles and yarn and a sweater pattern he thinks would make a good Christmas present for Trapper. And if the yarn he picks out happens to be a shade that will bring out the green in Trapper's hazel eyes, that's nobody's business but his. And it's so strange to be able to just go where he wants when he wants, doing what he wants. There's no concept of AWOL or leave or something-hour passes. He's free in a way he hasn't been in three years.

To celebrate his freedom, Hawkeye buys a magazine from the news stand - something bright and splashy and full of celebrity gossip - and then sits in the sunshine on a park bench for over an hour, reading the magazine and just enjoying being outside on such a nice summer day. In a place where there are flowers and trees and mothers with strollers and laughing children. A place that has remained untouched by blood and death and war. And then Hawkeye buys himself an ice cream cone.

He makes his way home and the bus ride is less nerve wracking the second time, even though the bus is more crowded. There are a couple of young kids, though, and their shrieks of laughter make him flinch - and bite back a tense order to be quiet - the first few times but he calms down. There are no enemy patrols here. Maybe he'll eventually believe that and be as bored and indifferent towards his surroundings as the rest of the passengers. But at least for now he should be able to make it to job interviews, and hopefully soon a job, without breaking down. Still, it's a relief to get home.

--

Trapper must've accidentally mentioned Hawkeye being in Boston somewhere too near Charles Winchester - or maybe hospital gossip is just that powerful - cuz they both get invited out for drinks at some unbearably posh club in fucking Back Bay. The kinda club that wouldn't let Trapper in through the delivery entrance much less into the actual bar. But Winchester's delivery of the invitation - which had involved calling Trapper to his office right as he was about to leave for the day - had brooked no argument. So now he's gotta go break the bad news to Hawkeye. And try not to get murdered by a bunch of angry WASPs.

Fortunately, Trapper's shift both started and ended early today so he has time to go get bruised and sweaty with all the other working class louts at the boxing gym before heading home to try and make himself look respectable enough for Winchester to be seen with him. Ok, that's not quite fair. He seems like a halfway decent guy. Still an upper class prick and a showboat surgeon - but he obviously cares about all his patients the same, regardless of their background. And maybe it's just cuz he can't stomach being anything but the top cutter in the outfit, but it's better than some of the docs Trapper's gotta work with. It's just that when Winchester or any of the other docs with breeding look at him, they see dumb Paddy before they see competent Ivy League surgeon.

Trapper ain't ashamed of any part of who he is. And he knows there's times and places he's gotta keep parts of himself hidden - to keep himself safe, to blend into the various worlds he lives in. But it pisses him off that his coworkers can't look past their shallow perceptions of him and see him. That's what he loves about Hawkeye. Trapper can be his entire self around him - no hiding, no being looked over.

At least that's one positive side to this whole deal. Hawk'll be there with him. And he's wearing his new suit and it looks real good. Trapper's disappointed when the car Winchester sent arrives cuz it interrupts his, ah, appreciation. But being chauffeured around is fun - the driver's wearing honest to God livery and Trapper feels like some kinda English lord outta a novel.

Reality comes crashing back in when they get to the club and the doorman or concierge or whatever gives him a look of such curdling contempt for daring to introduce himself as Dr. John McIntyre, here on Dr. Charles Winchester's invitation. Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce - nice and patriotic and Anglican - gets let in with no problem and Hawkeye must go get Winchester cuz he descends on the sneering sonofabitch like a pompous tidal wave. All "Do you know who I am?" and "How dare you presume to tell me who I can and cannot entertain" and "My family has been in Back Bay for three generations" and blah blah blah. Trapper just wants to leave, wants to run as far away as he can get, but Hawkeye's hovering there behind Winchester, looking about as miserable as Trapper feels, and he can't just leave him. And eventually Winchester's tirade winds down and Trapper gets let inside and Winchester is stuffily apologetic about the whole thing. Trapper appreciates that - knows how rarely Winchester apologizes about anything - but he had to've known, he's lived in Back Bay his whole life, he had to have known.

They get their drinks at the bar and head to a secluded table. Trapper has a whiskey and it's American - cuz of course it is - but it's ok as far as it goes. He's certainly drunk worse. And Winchester has some sorta fancy cognac that probably costs more per bottle than Trapper makes in a month. And Hawkeye has a Shirley Temple.

"On the wagon again, eh Pierce? Too bad; the cognac here is almost worth drinking. But I suppose anything is better than those terrible martinis you used to swill."

Hawkeye just smiles winningly and eats the cherry out of his drink. And immediately makes a face. Apparently the Shirley Temple habit is a new one.

"I dunno about you, Hawk, but I can't drink a martini that doesn't taste like it's made with lighter fluid anymore."

Hawkeye laughs. "It's true, they go down too smooth with real gin. And besides, I remember you doing plenty of swilling over in Korea, Charles. You're still the only Swamp denizen to ever get kicked out of Rosie's three nights in a row."

"No kidding? You went to Rosie's? And I don't think I managed to get kicked out even once." Trapper puts on an exaggerated look of contrition.

"Oh yeah, Charles became a regular lush when some kid of a Captain from Tokyo -"

"Insolent upstart," Winchester interjects.

"- replaced Potter for a bit and showed us all up but good."

And then they're off, telling funny stories from Korea. Charles has a bunch that Trapper never heard about from Hawkeye and even some from when he was stationed in Tokyo that Hawk's never heard either. And he and Hawkeye tell a bunch from back before Trapper shipped home - mostly about Frank Burns, but some about Radar and Klinger and Henry Blake. There's a moment of silence while they raise a toast.

And then Winchester says, "When are you coming to work for me, Pierce? Even McIntyre found a job at Boston Mercy. Surely you don't think I would turn you away?" And suddenly the air of camaraderie is gone.

"I think I can do more good outside a big hospital, Charles." Then Hawkeye's expression turns icy. "Anyway, Trapper has to work the job he found at Boston Mercy tomorrow, so I think we ought to be going."

Winchester looks confused. Like he knows he fucked up but he's not quite sure how. "Well, we'll have to do this again sometime soon. Perhaps at a different venue?" He cuts an apologetic look toward Trapper.

"Sure. But Hawk's right, I oughtta head home for some shuteye."

They shake hands under the watchful sneer of the concierge.

"Sorry if I got you blackballed from your fancy club, Winchester."

He huffs out a sigh but looks less constipated. And Hawkeye's smile becomes less fixed. All in all, the night coulda gone worse.

--

"Thank you for doing that."

"You're welcome." Trapper's response is muffled in the join of Hawkeye's neck and shoulder. They're laying cuddled up together in bed - which has become routine - but with Trapper all curled into Hawkeye. Trapper's a little taller and a lot broader than him and Hawkeye usually likes to be held in his big, strong arms. But Trapper seems to need a little extra comfort tonight. He's not one to be self conscious, but he'd been pretty obviously out of his depth the whole evening. And Charles had said some pretty terrible things to him - unintentional as they were. And he'd endured all that for Hawkeye.

"No, I mean it. You spent an entire evening with Charles and the rest of the snobbery brigade for me and I really appreciate it."

Trapper sits up a little so he can look Hawkeye in the eye. "He's your friend - even if he won't admit to it in polite company. There hadta be something decent about him or you woulda never got to be friends. It was worth braving a bunch of Back Bay snobs, including Winchester, to get to see that side of him. And anyway, I gotta work with the guy. It makes sense to play nice." And then Trapper lays back down and he's quiet for long enough that Hawkeye thinks maybe he's fallen asleep.

But then he says, "Next time we do this, we'll just haveta take him to the seediest working class joint we can find that don't have rats." And Hawkeye wonders what the hell he did to deserve having John McIntyre in his life.