Welcome to the 4077

Everything M*A*S*H This is a sideblog. I also post M*A*S*H stuff on my main, including fanfic.

[somewheredeepinsideee]

The intimacy of staring at each other while everyone else is talking

[welcometothe4077]

[wishingonadandylion]

[welcometothe4077]

I'm just about done with the next chapter of The Noise and the Quiet, but while I was editing today I found a snippet I think belongs here as a bonus scene. Again, these aren't super polished or anything. This was cut out of Chapter 18: the 1950s is not a pleasant time to be a woman in the workforce.

‘Peg,’ Mr. Coats settled into his desk across from her, drumming his yellowed fingernails on the desk. Peg concentrated on keeping her posture as erect and confident as she could, despite the slightly shaky fingers smoothing her skirt. ‘I suppose we should be talking about the hand off of your accounts at this point.’

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Well, your husband’s home. You weren’t thinking of still working?’

‘I was, in fact,’ Peg said, as evenly as she could. She had resolved to hold off mentioning BJ as long as possible in this conversation. She liked the real estate work, but it was her work, and he shouldn’t have a bearing on it. ‘I heard you were talking to a developer in San Rafael,’ she added. It felt a little daring, to be so upfront about it, but she had a mission that afternoon: secure that account, and the commission that came along with it.

‘Yes, actually. Signed the contract this morning,’ he seemed confused about why Peg was asking about it.

‘Who is going to be handling the account?’ she asked, trying to keep her tone more curious than demanding. She knew the best way to get this to work was to walk the fine line of letting him think this was his idea, but guiding him anyway to make the right decision.

‘Well, Greg is all in on that commercial property in the city,’ he mused. ‘I was thinking I’d start it myself and hand it off when I find someone-you can help me with it, if you’re staying,’ he nodded sagely.

‘I’d be happy to, I can handle it myself,’ she suggested. It was pushing a little, but he was probably still feeling proud of himself for thinking of her as an option. He thought that over for a second.

‘But that’s a lot of work, honey. You sure?’

‘Mm,’ Peg tried to be both deferential and confident with a smile and nod.

‘You think your husband will be okay with that?'

Peg tried not to glare at him.

‘Yes,’ she said simply.

‘Well, no need to rush into a decision today. We aren’t going to start with anything until next week. Why don’t you go home and talk it over with BJ, and then we can talk about you being involved-‘

‘He’ll support me,’ she said, confidently. Her right hand, out of his sight, gripped the hem of her skirt, trying to keep herself strategic here.

Getting the account was only step one. ‘I’m happy to take the account,’ she added. ‘It will give you more time to maybe pursue that property in Sausalito you were so excited about a few weeks ago, that’s still in the works, right?'

As furious as Mr. Coats made her some times, at least he was predictable. Just give him a shiny distraction, and he’ll forget what he was caught up on before.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he agreed. ‘If you’re sure your husband’s okay with it. Where’s Erin today, by the way? I thought your parents wouldn’t be back until September.’

‘BJ’s got her,’ Peg assured him. Mr. Coats frowned in disapproval, and she expected some admonishment regarding neglecting her daughter, like she’d heard directed at working mothers so many times-at the soda fountain, in the fields, at the cafe. ‘Mr. Coats, about my commission for this account-’

‘Well, your regular commission suits me fine,’ he said, dismissively, leaning back in his chair like the conversation was over. ‘The developers are coming on Thursday, you’ll be in, right?’

‘Would you pay Greg that commission, if he’d been able to take the account?’ she asked, boldly, hoping her voice didn’t shake. It was a bit pushy and accusatory, but she couldn’t afford to back down on this. She held his gaze, and he twitched his fingers uncomfortably. Peg tried not to grimace at the sickly yellow of his fingernails-she always found it distracting, just like his yellow teeth, and the stale smell of cigarettes that hung around his office.

‘Peg, honey,’ he leaned forward and showed her a few of those yellow teeth in a patronizing smile. ‘You know Greg has a family to take care of. Not like you, this is just, for fun, get you out of the house-’

‘I have a family too,’ Peg countered, fiercely, trying to keep her annoyance in check. ‘And just because I enjoy the work doesn’t mean I do it any differently or any worse than anyone else would. I’ve been here longer than him. and remember last quarter, when I-?’

‘Greg’s the one who supports his family. Peg, hun, your husband’s a surgeon-‘ he giggled a little bit.

‘What if he wasn’t?’

Mr. Coats laughed harder, shaking his head. Peg swallowed, still not breaking her gaze, trying not to let her nose curl in disgust as he showed even more of his yellowed teeth.

‘Peggy, we’re not here to discuss hypotheticals-‘ Peg never gave him permission to call her Peggy, only her parents, and occasionally BJ, did that. But she bit her tongue, gripping her skirt so hard her knuckles ached. ‘You’ve got the account, you’ll get your usual commission--‘

‘What if it wasn’t hypothetical?’ She was still fighting to keep her voice steady. ‘Would you rethink my commission? My value to the firm, the work I do, it doesn’t change based on what my husband does or doesn’t do-‘

‘I guess, if it were the case, but-’

‘If BJ weren’t a surgeon, you’d pay me for the work I do? Even if I was doing the same work?’

‘Peg, this is a silly conversation,’ he said, dismissively, shrugging and leaning back in his chair.

‘I don’t know what my husband’s profession has to do with my work,’ Peg refused to take that as a dismissal, even though he clearly wanted her out of his office. ‘But if I told you he came home on a medical discharge and isn’t able to return to work as a surgeon, would you adjust your commission?’

Mr. Coats’ expression darkened and he leaned forward, apparently trying to work out if there was an element of truth in what she had said.

She stared at him intently.

‘Peg, what happened?’

‘Would you?’

‘I suppose, I’d-I guess I’d consider it,’ he said shakily. ‘Did something happen?’

‘I wasn’t looking for your pity or your charity,’ she said, finally looking away and picking at one of her fingernails, unable to keep her voice steady. ‘I was hoping that my work and my worth to the firm would stand on its own. But I have a daughter, and a husband, to look after, so I suppose I need to play all my cards, for their sake.’

‘I’ll bump you up a percent-‘

Peg looked back at him, finally. He looked uncomfortable with her visible emotions, looking a little wary.

‘Is that what Greg earns?’ she contested.

‘One and a half points. You drive a hard bargain, Peggy,’ he pointed at her, with a lopsided grin, trying to bring the conversation back to his control and his sense of humor. Peg sighed, and agreed, with a nod, the numbers running through her head, the commission, the average home price in San Rafael, the mortgages and their weekly grocery bill-double what it had been a month ago. That would be enough, if she took the occasional shift at the cafe, she supposed, and she didn’t want to press her luck too far. ‘But, Peg-what happened?’

She hadn’t been lying to Sallie and Greg last week when they asked how BJ was, how Erin felt about him being home, what he’d been up to. But she still hadn’t told a single one of them the circumstances of his return, and it had been a bit refreshing, to have somewhere where everything didn’t revolve around BJ’s deafness. The longer she held out, the worse it was going to be, she supposed. Mr. Coats liked to host quarterly parties for the office and their families-there was no where to hid. She supposed her time was up.

‘If something happened, why didn’t you say anything?’

‘I’m here to work, I enjoy the work,’ Peg explained. ‘I’m tired of every conversation I’ve had recently being about-I told you, I’m not looking for charity or pity.’

‘Peg, what happened?’ he was insistent. Nosy, just like everyone else. Give them a hint that something’s out of the ordinary, and they’ll want to know everything.

‘He lost his hearing,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘Otherwise, he’s-‘

‘Otherwise, he’s fine,’ she reassured him. Other than the hearing, the vertigo, the bouts of anger, of restlessness, frustration. Other than that.

‘But he’s not returning to work, at least not for now.’

‘Peg, I’m-‘

‘Don’t-don’t say you’re sorry,’ she shook her head with a grimace. ‘I’m tired of it, okay? I just want-I just want to do the work.’

‘Okay. I’ll make the appointment with the developer for Thursday,’ he added. ‘Anything else I can-?’

‘No, that’s all,’ Peg assured him, standing up, her fingers still shaking as she tried to stay as calm as possible until she could duck out of his office and lock herself in the bathroom for a few minutes. She turned around at the door for a brief second. ‘Oh, but-he’s got an appointment at the VA tomorrow. I’ll be back on Wednesday.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ he relented. ‘As long as you’re here for the kick-off on Thursday.’

[welcometothe4077]

Cut scenes between chapters 29 and 30 of The Noise and the Quiet. Not super proofread or edited tightly to be officially part of the story but thought it might be a nice bonus scene.

‘Dad’s got some Mozart,’ Hawkeye offered, in the somewhat awkward silence of the living room. He was still baffled that Charles had shown up two days before. He’d almost meant that as a joke when he’d offered, but somehow, Charles wanted to spend Christmas away from his family, and Boston, and had taken him up on it. When you bunked with someone, you had to get used to having moments where there was silence between you, but the living room felt very different from the Swamp. For the first time, Hawkeye felt very self-conscious about his surroundings. In Korea, he had the excuse that everything they had was uncomfortable, khaki, army-issue, covered in blood and grime, but here in Maine, Charles could actually judge him and his dad on the layer of dust on the sideboard or the mismatched sofas, or the worn needle on the record player, because here, he had the capacity to do something about it.

But Charles didn’t seem interested in judging his rural, sparse, surroundings, staring into his glass.

‘No, thank you, Pierce-’ he answered, taking a drink.

Hawkeye wasn’t sure what to do with himself so he headed over to the record cabinet anyway, poking through some old ones no one had touched in a while. ‘Beethoven, Handel, Sinatra-?’

He’d offered the last one as a joke, but, as ever, Winchester was not swayed.

‘Thank you,’ he repeated. ‘Pierce. I-uh-haven’t-‘

Hawkeye pulled out a record he’d never seen before, wondering how “I’m my own Grandpa” would even work, and if the song would tell him if he put it on, but Charles’ hesitation, the catch in his voice, intrigued him. Worried him, really. He’d heard that tone very little, but he knew what it meant: Charles was letting his inner emotions show, a rare event indeed.

He slid the record back into the cabinet, and looked at Charles expectantly.

‘I haven’t had the heart-to enjoy it. Since-‘

Hawkeye cast his mind back to their last night in the Swamp. He was a bit wrapped up in himself, he supposed, but now that he tried to recall it, he didn’t remember any music. Charles hadn’t wound down from the session with some caterwauling opera singer or bombastic symphony. ‘What happened?’ he breathed.

‘Those musicians I was teaching-’ Charles stared at his glass, unwilling to make eye contact, his voice even quieter, more unsteady, as he continued. ‘That last batch of wounded I went out to triage-the POW bus had been hit. All of them-’

Hawkeye shut the door of the record cabinet with a heavy sigh. Winchester could be an ass, with his sense of superiority in his breeding, his lack of instinct to help others, and his penchant for playing music when everyone else wanted to sleep. But he was a doctor. As much as he acted like it, Hawkeye knew Charles was not immune to the suffering around him, especially by the time the war ended.

‘I just-haven’t found comfort in the music like I used to,’ he finished, still not looking at Hawkeye, who felt his throat tighten in sympathy. ‘I destroyed my record collection before I left camp,’ he added. ‘And sold what I had in Boston when I returned.’

‘You should tell BJ that story,’ Hawkeye told him, settling back into the chair next to the sofa. He didn’t actually want any of the fancy cognac Charles had brought himself but thinking about the war always made him want to numb himself like he used to. It was good Charles had brought his own-his father hadn’t brought a drop into the house since he’d emptied the liquor cabinet.

‘Someone else who no longer can listen to music,’ Charles said sadly, raising his eyebrows at Hawkeye as he took a drink.

Hawkeye sighed, but his stomach clenched unpleasantly as he thought over what Charles had told him.

‘Oh, god no, don’t,’ he changed his mind, ‘Our POW truck was hit?’

He hadn’t heard any of this story before. He barely remembered that last surgical session, and thinking about how spotty his memory was made his chest tight. He’d been so wrapped up in his own problems, he hadn’t even noticed the horror that Charles was dealing with. Great, he’d invited Charles to come visit, he finally had company besides his dad and Heidi, and he was going to celebrate by having a fucking panic attack.

‘Hm,’ Charles affirmed, leaning forward and putting his glass down, watching Hawkeye a bit more attentively, perhaps concerned he’d have to run over to Heidi’s house to get the other Dr. Pierce when Hawkeye came unwound.

‘Were there any survivors? I don’t remember-‘ but Charles shook his head, confirming that no, it wasn’t Hawkeye’s memory that was faulty, they hadn’t brought any POWs into the operating room that day. This kept the panic attack at bay, but his stomach was still churning.

‘Never tell BJ that story,’ he hissed, hoping to impress the seriousness of this onto Charles.

‘And why not?’ Charles asked, looking a little put out that Hawkeye had reversed course on that suggestion. Perhaps he thought it would bring him solace to speak to BJ about it, there was something in common between the two of them, but it wasn’t just the music that was the common thread here. It was the POWs.

‘Fucking hell, Charles,’ Hawkeye hissed, fighting the nausea, and the lump in his throat. ‘You don’t think he’s been comforting himself for months now with the knowledge that at least he’d done the right thing, at least he’d saved lives, at least there were other men going home and hearing ‘I love you, Daddy’, from their daughters?’ Hawkeye was nearly shouting, the emotion getting the better of him, like it always did. Charles’ eyes were glassy, and Hawkeye caught his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he didn’t respond.

‘It was all a fucking waste,’ he muttered, more to himself than Charles. He wasn’t just talking about BJ right then, he was talking about Tommy, and Henry, of the little girl on the bus, every soldier he tried to save but couldn’t, every soldier he did save. What the hell had it all accomplished? Would anything have been worth the cost?

‘A fucking waste,’ he repeated, head in his hands, leaning on his knees, unable to stop the sobs, wishing he didn’t want to vomit right then. Wishing he hadn’t asked about the music. Wishing he’d never gone on that beach trip. Wishing that death certificate his father had received had been real.

To his surprise, he felt a hand squeeze his knee after a few seconds, and heard Charles sniffle. He looked up in surprise, and possibly alarm. Charles was crying, more quietly than Hawkeye, but crying nonetheless.

‘Merry Christmas, Charles,’ Hawkeye mumbled sarcastically, not sure how clear he was.

‘I would make a toast to peace,’ Charles told him, quietly. ‘But it feels a fruitless hope.’ Hawkeye nodded in agreement. ’To the connections that sustain us,’ Charles tried.

He raised his glass towards Hawkeye, and Hawkeye put his hand over the one on his knee and squeezed, nodding in agreement. * * * ‘Hawkeye said you were planning on driving back to Boston today,’ Daniel said, handing Dr. Winchester a mug of coffee. It had only been a few days since they’d met, but Daniel felt like they’d established a sort of rapport, and an early morning coffee routine while Hawkeye slept in. Winchester was an early riser, it seemed-no wonder the two of them had struggled to live together for so long

‘Mm,’ he confirmed, taking the mug with a polite nod. ‘On call tomorrow and back to scheduled surgeries Wednesday,’ he explained. ‘Well, I am glad you came,’ he assured the other doctor, settling in across from him at the table. ‘You’re welcome back anytime. I hope you found whatever it is you are looking for.’

‘I had been hoping to find another experienced surgeon for my department,’ he answered, eyes drifting towards the paper, obviously interested in leaving the conversation before it got too personal. Like hell it was a recruitment trip, but he’d let Winchester keep up the pretense if needed. It was bittersweet to know how much he valued Hawkeye’s medical talents, and knowing how much of an impossibility it seemed right now. ‘Does he want to return to surgery?’

‘I have no idea,’ Daniel admitted. He wanted to believe being a doctor was an immutable part of who Hawkeye was, but Hawkeye himself seemed to have let that go. ‘I’d like to think he’ll return to medicine, in time, but if I knew what the future held, I would be a much richer man.’ An odd choice of words, Daniel realized, speaking to Winchester, of all people.

‘Well, if there’s anything I can do to-‘ he looked like it was physically painful for him to offer assistance.

‘Come visit occasionally. Bring your sister, she sounds like fun-’

‘We’ll see,’ he said, but Daniel hid his smile with the coffee mug-that sounded almost like a yes coming from Dr. Winchester, and it had somehow perked Hawkeye up to have him around. He supposed that’s what Hawkeye might have been missing, having someone who understood what he’d been through in Korea without Hawkeye having to explain. It made him a little jealous that there was something Charles knew about his son that he didn’t, but he could wait until Hawkeye was ready to tell him. He supposed he could also wait until Charles was ready to tell him as well. All he could do right now was make coffee and breakfast, wait patiently, and be available when he was needed.

[welcometothe4077]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 26/? Fandom: MASH (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt & Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, B. J. Hunnicutt/Peg Hunnicutt, B. J. Hunnicutt/Peg Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce Characters: B. J. Hunnicutt, Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan, Charles Emerson Winchester III, Maxwell Klinger, Radar O'Reilly, Sherman Potter, Daniel Pierce (MASH), Peg Hunnicutt, Father Francis Mulcahy Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deaf Character, Post-Canon, Post-War, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Anxiety Disorder, Period-Typical Ableism Summary:

Charles gave BJ’s shoulder what he guessed might be intended as a reassuring squeeze, but it did the opposite-BJ was startled and alarmed. Why was Charles trying to reassure him? He instinctively leaned away from the hand while trying not to move his head, as Charles, Lieutenant Epps, and Father Mulcahy appeared to have a brief conversation. They all looked slightly troubled, especially Father Mulcahy, whose eyebrows were knit tightly together, a hand wrapped around his rosary. ... God, this was infuriating, BJ thought, wishing he could understand what they were saying.

---

Basically, what if it was BJ who lost his hearing in Goodbye, Farewell and Amen?

[mashbigbang]

Attention all personnel! Your feedback and enthusiasm has been much appreciated, and the first annual M*A*S*H Big Bang is HERE!

2026 Event Schedule:

Writer Sign-ups: March 17-31

Artist Sign-ups: April 16-30

Writer Proposals Due: May 1

Artist Claims Open: May 5

Check-in 1: June 1

Check-in 2: July 1

Rough Draft Due: August 1

Final Submissions Due: August 24

Collection Revealed: August 31

Preliminary rules and detailed FAQs for all participants, as well as specific sections for Writers, Artists, and Beta Readers / Pinch Hitters / Hype Readers can be found here!

Further details regarding the proposals and claims process (among other information) to come!

QUESTIONS?

If you have any questions that were not answered in the FAQ or have any other event-related inquiries, please reach out to the mod team on this account or email us at [email protected]!

[mashbigbang]

There's a Big Bang in the Compound!

Announcing the 2026 MASH Big Bang Event: Writers and Artists report to OR!

I'm very excited to be getting this off the ground! That said, as this is the inaugural event, I wanted to collect some input from you about what we, as a fandom at large, would like to see regarding how to get things running! For example, what time frame would be ideal, what the minimum requirements should be regarding word count/pieces of art/etc, and so on and so forth!

As such, I have created a brief (anonymous) survey! If you have even the slightest interest/inclination to participate, I would be VERY grateful for your feedback. It should not take more than a couple of minutes.

Signal boosting would also be much appreciated — I would love to get as many eyes/opinions on this as possible in the hopes of making an event that is accessible/approachable and fun for all!

For more information, feel free to peruse below the cut:

For anyone who may be curious but unaware of what a Big Bang is: A Big Bang is a fandom event that promotes collaboration between writers and artists. During a Big Bang, writers will write a fanfiction (adhering to a minimum word count) and artists will create a piece or pieces of art to accompany it. At the end of the Big Bang, all of the fic and art will be released together, creating an explosion - or ‘big bang’ - of content.

@thebigbangblogproject also has a general overview available here! Once more details are determined about schedule and exactly how this big bang will work, an FAQ will be posted to this blog!

Finally, I would love a co-organizer if anyone is interested! If you are, please email me at [email protected] ❤️

[welcometothe4077]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66364510

do links work on the sideblog.

[welcometothe4077]

no. no they do not.

anyway i wrote a really silly one-shot about BJ's birthday. since tumblr is dumb you're gonna have to copy/paste it into your browser like it's 1995 or something.

[welcometothe4077]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66364510

do links work on the sideblog.

[onekisstotakewithme]

is this anything? over

[citizenscreen]

R.I.P. Loretta Swit 😢

[pastelparsec]

Today, we lost another member of 4077

Rest in peace, Miss Loretta Swift. (November 4, 1937 - May 30, 2025)

Thank you for all the laughs and great memories.

Say hello to Charles and Colonel Potter up there for us!

[remyfire]

My final offering for the evening 💞

[trapperlesbian]

M*A*S*H: The Comedy That Changed Television (2024)

[shatteredwriters]

Margaret Houlihan: Queen 👑

that’s it. that’s the post.

[foone]

the m*a*s*h fandom must be the most toxic one out there, I never see people type out the full name of the show without censoring it to avoid drama from people searching for it.

[copperbadge]

Probably because it's about the military. I bet it's pro-war propaganda.

[fourforyouodo]

Kira Nerys's relationships are so funny. Imagine your boss is a messenger to the gods. Your boyfriend is a cardinal, then your next boyfriend is the prime minister. You have personal beef with the pope. Hitler wants to fuck you. And you end up dating a mall cop.