garbage all the way down (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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hydratrashmeme2015-09-09 07:23 pm
trashmod) wrote in hydratrashmeme2015-09-09 07:23 pm
Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch
Holy shitballs, look at us go. Welcome to Captain America fandom's resident wretched hive of scum and villainy: ROUND THREE. AKA Bad Guys Do Dirtybadwrong Things To Your Faves, AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. As usual, BLANKET NON-CON AND NSFW WARNINGS apply: just assume going in that everything in this landfill is unfit for human consumption.
Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.
[Round 1] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained bygreenkirtle)] [Round 3 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]
Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.
Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.
[Round 1] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by
greenkirtle)] [Round 3 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.
Rumlow/Sam, other/Rumlow, Rumlow to the "rescue"
(Anonymous) 2016-07-25 03:24 am (UTC)(link)~In a world~ where Rumlow and Sam have been fighting on a regular enough basis to be nemeses, they both get captured by an even bigger bad. Even bigger bad goes to rape Sam. Rumlow intervenes by way of offering to take Sam’s place. (If like in the original prompt the bigger bad is after information, and figures Sam—as a very good person—might just as easily give it up to save Rumlow as himself… and whatever it is, Sam can’t, not even for this…)
WOULD LOVE:
*Rumlow remains an unmitigated horrible person in general. This isn’t the road to redemption. He just can’t stand to see this specifically happen to Sam, who he feels is Above This. (Unlike, say, the asset.)
*Brock Rumlow’s Fragile Masculinity, which has twisted this around so that he is the real man here, capable of withstanding what he’s certain Sam couldn’t.
*Acres and acres of Sam Wilson’s hurt and guilt and confusion and anger, and how is he supposed to go back to normal life now, and who could he ever in good conscience talk to about this, given it’s not exactly his secret.
*Rumlow’s not thrilled about the situation, but he’s perfectly happy to have this claim on Sam’s attention, given his ever-growing creeper crush.
Better me.
(Anonymous) 2016-07-25 10:59 am (UTC)(link)If he were a Actual Good Guy, Rumlow might say something like "Wait, take me instead" or "No, not him!". But no, Rumlow is evil, he is aware that he's evil, and he'd never do something as direct as that. Instead, he looks their captor dead in the eye and snorts.
"Really? That's what you're going with? Getting your jollies off with him?" Rumlow sneers at the grunt their captors brought in for intimidation. He knows this particular technique: bring in someone big, stupid and mean, someone who likes pain, who loves hurting others. Let them have their fun with the captives and break them physically, let them believe there's no way out but coperation with their captors, let them be grateful for any reprieve they might get from the torture.
Sam Wilson, who was currently struggling to get away from the wandering hands of the grunt, went absolutely still and stared at Brock Rumlow.
Now, if this was anything like fingernail yanking or bone breaking, Rumlow would just look the other way. All soldiers are taught to deal with torture and pain.
But this was not. This was just, sick and dirty and wrong and Rumlow didn't think Sam Wilson, aka Falcon aka counselor at the Vet's hospital aka all round nice guy, had ever been faced with something like this.
Hell, most of the vets he saw, they were people who were dealing with getting limbs blown off, getting ditched by significant others, nightmares, the whole shindig that came with being in a war.
Sam Wilson didn't know anything about this.
He didn't know anything about used and put away wet.
Brock had seen his fair share, counseled a few junior agents through it, and experienced it a few times. This wasn't anything new. He was soiled and evil anyway. One more stain on his reputation didn't matter.
"I get it though, ugly mug like yours, popping your cherry with a black man's your ultimate fantasy, isn't it?" Brock taunts, jiggling his chains at the taller man.
Sam's eyes get even wider. He mouths 'what?' and a horrified 'no!' at Brock but Brock doesn't care. The grunt doesn't notice. No, he pauses halfway through yanking Sam's pants down, shoves the dark skinned man back into his cell, then advances on Brock's cage instead.
"Imma gonna teach you yer place," the grunt growls, shaking a meaty finger in Brock's face. He rips open the cell door and grabs Brock by the shirt, tearing it clear off.
Brock puts up a token struggle, pretending to try to get away.
"No, get off me you brute," he says in a total deadpan voice, but the grunt doesn't seem to notice. Brock meets Sam's horrified eyes and winks.
"You gon getit now!" The grunt theatens.
"Ow ow, no. stop."
Okay, that actually hurt, but hey, Brock doesn't expect anyone in this joint to know anything about foreplay or prep.
"Go fuck yourself, you stupid grunt. You know why you never moved up? The only head you're good for is your puny dick."
The punching, the slapping, the choking, it's pretty standard fare. Brock breathes, and rolls with it. It's nothing he's not experienced before, only now there's a huge un-named ugly fucker on top of him, pounding into him like it's the last time he'll ever have sex.
Okay and maybe it's a little weird that Sam's got a good look at his junk and not in a sexy manner, but Sam will just have to deal with that.
He's going to be bleeding and sore for days. Nothing new, standard fare, could be worse. Brock's not worried, grunts are usually too stupid to think of using anything else but their own pathetic dicks.
Brock's glad to be proven right when the grunt just slams into him one final time, cums, and withdraws.
"Fuck you," Brock spits out.
"No, I fucked you," The grunt sneers back, spitting on Brock.
Ewwww. Brock curls up and pretends to be way more injured than he actually is until the man leaves.
Then he uncurls, and then grabs his torn shirt. He wipes off the spit, then tries to get at the blood between his asscheeks.
Ow.
Eurgh. Sitting going to be a pain in the ass.
Hah. Pain. In the ass.
"Why did you do that?" Sam asks. The look of horror and shock is still there, like he can't believe that Brock did that for him.
"Seriously? You want to get fucked by that man? Cause I can call him back here," Brock can't stop his mouth from running.
"But you didn't - " Sam can't find the words.
Brock takes pity on him.
"Look, it's not a big deal," Brock starts to say.
"Not a big deal?! You were just raped!" Sam says the last word in a hush, as if the mere word would dirty him up.
Brock sighs, this is like explaining something to a toddler.
"You're a - " Brock motions vaguely at Sam "- a good person who doesn't deserve that."
"And you think you do?" Sam's incredulous.
Brock considers the question. Does he deserve to be punched? Yeah, probably, repeatedly. Does he deserve to pay for his crimes? Most certainly. Does he deserve to be brutalised? Well, no. But better him than Sam. Sam's a paragon of virtue by proxy because of his close relation to Captain America. Soiling paragons of virtue seems just tacky.
"Doesn't feel any dirtier than the first few times," Brock tries to placate the other man.
Sam goes quiet for a moment.
"So, how many times has this happened?"
Brock looks away. Okay, the disgust from Sam is a little harder to stomach than he thought it would be. He can just feel whatever mutual grudging respect for each other's skills draining away. Sam's never going to think of him as an equal again. And yeah, maybe he didn't think this all the way through to the fallout, but at least there's one less person with that pervasive 'eurhg' feeling at the backs of their minds when they think about sex.
"S'none of your business, birdboy."
Sam turns away.
Brock lowers himself to the ground and then curls up on his side.
Captain America busts in two days later.
During that two days, Brock gets 'visited' a couple more times. It's no worse than the first, no better than the last.
Brock, who is still buck naked, gets rescued by Clint. He gets clapped into better fitting chains, then hauled - still naked, but Clint lets him hold the shirt over his crotch - onto the jet that was sent to retrieve Sam.
They weren't planning on saving a second person, just Sam, so there aren't a lot of provisions to go around. Clint still grudgingly offers Brock some soup. Brock doesn't feel like eating. The 'eww' and 'eurgh' feeling always hangs around for a few weeks before it settles.
His rejection of the food doesn't go over well and the archer starts ranting about perverted ingrates.
Sam shuts the archer up with a glare.
Brock gets chained in the storage part of the jet while the Avengers have a heated conversation outside.
Brock's out of the frying pan and into the fire, but hey, at least the new chains are loose enough that his abused wrists can breathe. Also, the storage room has a really nice soft and squishy chair cushion that feels nice on Brock's bruised butt.
He falls asleep while waiting for the Avengers to decide what will happen to him.
No one tells him anything. Brock spends three weeks in a holding cell. The physical marks heal just fine. But the holding cell only serves to remind him of his recent captivity, which makes the 'ew' and 'eurgh' feeling last longer than it usually does. Thankfully, they let him take long showers, which keeps him sane.
He doesn't know if Sam's told the Avengers anything.
Ugh, whatever. It doesn't matter. S'not like Brock can un-fuck himself. He jangles his chains, hums to himself, rehearses some creative insults for the team, and then takes lots of naps.
Sam comes to visit. Brock very pointedly does not look at Sam because any disgust or revulsion or pity he sees is going to make the 'eurgh' feeling even worse.
"Why did you do it?" Sam asks again.
"What? Planting the bomb? I was following orders, it wasn't personal." Brock deliberately misunderstands the question.
"No, I mean, why did you give yourself up for me? You hate me." Sam looks so lost.
Brock stares at him.
"No I don't."
"You don't hate me?"
"... no?"
"We're enemies," Sam says it like it's a rule: Thou shalt hate thine enemy.
"Doesn't mean I have to hate you. Hate is a pretty strong word," Brock points out, "I mean, I hate it when you get in the way of Hydra missions, but I don't hate you. You're doing your job and I'm doing mine."
Sam looks like someone tore the floor out from under him and dumped him into a huge vat of "enlightenment". Brock waits for him to 'get it' because frankly, Brock has nowhere else to go.
Sam doesn't say anything else. He just gets up and leaves.
Brock goes back to sleep.
They decide to put him away, into another cell, on some floating prison. Brock can't be held in a normal facility. Either he will break out by himself, or Hydra will come and get him.
Prisons aren't supposed to be comfortable, but Brock's 'forever room' is surprisingly homey. There's a few books, a very fluffy blanket, instructions that he gets to take hot showers, and three pillows instead of one.
Brock picks up the first one. Under it is a small note.
It only reads:
Thanks.
~Sam
Brock's not sure why, but he feels a bit lighter.
Re: Better me.
(Anonymous) 2016-07-25 11:09 am (UTC)(link)Re: Better me.
(Anonymous) 2016-07-25 02:43 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Better me.
(Anonymous) 2016-07-26 02:59 am (UTC)(link)Re: Better me.
(Anonymous) 2016-07-26 03:46 am (UTC)(link)When Sam mouths "no" at Rumlow like he has a say in this?? like they're in this together, which they actually are way more than he realizes yet, and also so totally aren't, this is a guy who was just thinking "eh I'd totally let them torture you the normal way."
When this sentence happens: Okay, the disgust from Sam is a little harder to stomach than he thought it would be.
When Rumlow uses the "wasn't personal" thing, because that's... perfect... the exact same logic that lets him turn on Steve without batting an eye lets him throw himself on the sword for Sam.
Honestly every time Sam is probably trying to show sympathy through the shock and confusion and Rumlow reads it as disgust with him personally for this having happened to him.
This is great and you're great <3
Re: Better me.
(Anonymous) 2017-05-17 02:28 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Better me.
(Anonymous) 2017-05-18 12:07 am (UTC)(link)