Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

[trashmod]

Okay, kids, you know the drill. Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because hydratrashmeme is about as far from a safe space as you can get. Garbage we like: noncon, whump, aftermath, violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves. Garbage you should find a different trashcan for: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, OOC evil!good guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves, rotting leftovers dressed up as a romantic gourmet meal. Nothing wrong with 'em, but this isn't the crowd you should be pitching to if you're trying to sell Brock Rumlow as anything but a human dumpster fire.

Link your fills on the fill post, post unprompted fills as replies to a header comment so the wall o' text is collapsible, and let me know if you're interested in helping out with the Pinboard archive.

[Rules in full] [Round 1] [Round 2] [Round 3] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by greenkirtle)] [Round 4 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

All prompts or fills that contain Infinity War spoilers must go on the Infinity War spoiler post until May 26th. Spoilers in the main dumpsters will be deleted.

Round 4 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 5.

Comments

Barfing Out Hurt (2/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Steve- why didn't you kill me? You broke my shoulder. You had me in the helicarrier. Why would you let me hit you? Why would you do this to me? Why would you force me to remember how your skin feels as it parts under the metal fist?

WHY DIDN'T YOU KILL ME????

Why? Why did you let go? You started to fall. I know you tried, but you didn't even watch me go. You looked away. My last memory is of you looking away as I fell.

I remember flashes- waking up as they dragged me.

They wrapped the arm.

The pit. I kept fighting them.

I kept demanding to get out.

They told me you were dead. They showed me the paper.

I started trying to die instead. When they would beat my face, I started opening my mouth and offering my tongue instead of making them shove a metal ring in or pin me down with my face grinding on the stone and wrist held between my arms as a useful handle for the thrusts.

I managed to sneak three shoe laces out of twelve guards. It wasn't enough to strangle myself.

It was enough to earn the party pit. They called it that. I went from a dark box, in a cold stone room that would sometimes become light, to having my eyelids sewn shut and my eardrums pierced. I remember I couldn't feel the ground, I couldn't feel- anything. Not the air. Nothing but my own heartbeat. Then, the water. The smell of it. The sharp nearly citrusy mineral tang of it.

The thirst. I was so thirsty. I would always move my head away as much as possible, gagging and spluttering as the warm water would hit me. Drown me by moments as I cursed them and tried to spit it all out.

I came to crave those moments. Any sensation. Any proof that there was something besides my heart pumping lead through my veins for eternity.

It was the warmth, as much as the water quenching my parched throat, as much as having something, anything in my belly. My ears would heal, and I would react to them coming. To them talking. They would ask me to say three words. It wasn't even Hail Hydra. And my answers started out a myriad of ways of saying "Fuck you." They took it as an offer, and I got the novelty of sensations below my waist while my ears dripped silence.

A few dozen healings in, they performed a surgery. I could feel their hands. I could feel them disconnecting parts of me. Removing parts of me. I know what my gut smells like. After the agony, after the burning and the pain, they had added feeding me by the port, to the sensations I could feel. The way they would swap bags on the abdominal port.

I got a gag for those times. A ring of metal. Food has to be paid for. Water comes for free. All you have to do is not drown and swallow not spit. But food has a price.

I tasted musk and tang and the heavy salty aftertaste with every breath I took after being fed. Steve, I felt so grateful sometimes, just to have something to keep one sense engaged.

Then the horrible cold water would come, afterwards.

The healing took longer, I think, towards the end.

Towards the end of me.

I was leaning into every touch. Just the smell of fresh warm water would make my parched lips part eagerly. I would try to speak, to beg for more. To beg for touch. Any touch. Anywhere.

I apologized for trying to die, for fighting them.

When the sound of something besides my own heartbeat came back, Steve, I could have sworn it was you. The first voice I had heard in an eternity, asking me what I was, was like salvation. I was ready to stop being me, stop being human and become what they wanted. At least long enough to get out of the Party Pit.

There were only three words I needed to say, to feel the ground again. TO end the party and my punishment for trying to die. Steve I said them, and I feel them, every time I smell that warm water. I feel them choking in my throat right this minute.

"Ready to comply."



Tony put down the notebook and sat back in his seat, rubbing his chest as he swallowed again and again on his own feelings. He had read the files on how long it took them to break their prisoner into the early prototype Asset. It had only taken a little over a year. There had been a few little rebellions, after that- but he only really held out for a single year to break enough to be considered useful. To go on missions for them.

Tony had scoffed at that. He made it through three months in a cave just fine. Now however, Tony felt the cold water. He felt how helpless the tilt of the world in the chair was- the way he could no longer breathe, how the water rushed in and didn't leave his lungs completely no matter how he struggled.

Tony knew that the smell of stagnant water, the feel of cold water, could make him cough and choke, panic flooding his veins. What would that be like with something impossible to avoid like taking a wizz? He hated the sick son of a bitch that killed all those girls, that killed his mother, but right now he also pities the bastard. Killing him would quite actually be a mercy. Anything to stop that man remembering, would be a mercy. Steve died only a week after Barnes fell from the train. A few more days of the government hiding the fact he was dead. The paper would have been around two weeks in. Maybe a month after that they show Barnes the paper. Maybe sooner. And he decides to try to die. Because he knows only Steve would bother trying to track him down, or maybe just to end the rest of it.

No one raped Tony in that cave. He wasn't alone, either. He had Yensin. He had touch. He had both his hands and he had hope.

The shortest time he figures James "Urinal" Barnes hung around in some sort of suspension fuck chamber, was at least half a year. Hell a month of that would be enough to drive most people insane. Deprivation chamber tests were high octane nightmare fuel. This? This was just plain sick.

A small part of Tony wished someone had been kind enough to rape or beat Barnes to death then too. It would be kinder to all involved. Tony hated how he wanted to give the guy a dozen therapists. But it was that or a bullet. Because nothing could really undo that. Tony stood and took his drink to pour it out, unable to really look at it now.

Apple juice must be hell for Sucky. Tony thought absently, picking up the notebook and flipping to the next horror. The next entry.

The next entry was in a new pen, and the lettering was half carved into the page. The next three pages were all stuck together, the pen having dug through the pages hard enough to tear and seal the following pages to it.

Tony felt a sinking weight in his gut, to match the nausea of earlier. He also found it ominous that now Johnny Cash was singing "I keep a close watch on this heart of mine". Walk the Line, nothing could go wrong with that playing while he read whatever had upset this particular madman enough to carve the words into the page.

Nothing at all.

FIXED: Barfing Out Hurt (2/?) DAMN FORMATTING

[(Anonymous)]

Steve- why didn't you kill me? You broke my shoulder. You had me in the helicarrier. Why would you let me hit you? Why would you do this to me? Why would you force me to remember how your skin feels as it parts under the metal fist?

WHY DIDN'T YOU KILL ME????

Why? Why did you let go? You started to fall. I know you tried, but you didn't even watch me go. You looked away. My last clear and un blurred memory is of you looking away as I fell.

I remember flashes- waking up as they dragged me.

They wrapped the arm.

The pit. I kept fighting them.

I kept demanding to get out. Clawing and thrashing and making them pay for every pleasure they tried to take.

Then they told me you were dead. They showed me the paper.

I started trying to die instead of just fighting. When they would beat my face, I started opening my mouth and offering my tongue instead of making them shove a metal ring in or pin me down with my face grinding on the stone and wrist held between my arms as a useful handle for the thrusts.

I managed to sneak three shoe laces out of twelve guards. It wasn't enough to strangle myself.

It was enough to earn the party pit. They called it that. I went from a dark box, in a cold stone room that would sometimes become light, to having my eyelids sewn shut and my eardrums pierced. I remember I couldn't feel the ground, I couldn't feel- anything. Not the air. Nothing but my own heartbeat. Then, the water. The smell of it. The sharp nearly citrusy mineral tang of it.

The thirst. I was so thirsty. I would always move my head away as much as possible, gagging and spluttering as the warm water would hit me. Drown me by moments as I cursed them and tried to spit it all out.

I came to crave those moments. Any sensation. Any proof that there was something besides my heart pumping lead through my veins for eternity.

It was the warmth, as much as the water quenching my parched throat, as much as having something, anything in my belly. My ears would heal, and I would react to them coming. To them talking. They would ask me to say three words. It wasn't even Hail Hydra. And my answers started out a myriad of ways of saying "Fuck you." They took it as an offer, and I got the novelty of sensations below my waist while my ears dripped silence.

A few dozen healings in, they performed a surgery. I could feel their hands. I could feel them disconnecting parts of me. Removing parts of me. I know what my gut smells like. After the agony, after the burning and the pain, they had added feeding me by the port, to the sensations I could feel. The way they would swap bags on the abdominal port.

I got a gag for those times. A ring of metal. Food has to be paid for. Water comes for free. All you have to do is not drown and swallow not spit. But food has a price.

I tasted musk and tang and the heavy salty aftertaste with every breath I took after being fed. Steve, I felt so grateful sometimes, just to have something to keep one sense engaged.

Then the horrible cold water would come, afterwards.

The healing took longer, I think, towards the end.

Towards the end of me.

I was leaning into every touch. Just the smell of fresh warm water would make my parched lips part eagerly. I would try to speak, to beg for more. To beg for touch. Any touch. Anywhere.

I apologized for trying to die, for fighting them.

When the sound of something besides my own heartbeat came back, Steve, I could have sworn it was you. The first voice I had heard in an eternity, asking me what I was, was like salvation. I was ready to stop being me, stop being human and become what they wanted. At least long enough to get out of the Party Pit.

There were only three words I needed to say, to feel the ground again. TO end the party and my punishment for trying to die. Steve I said them, and I feel them, every time I smell that warm water. I feel them choking in my throat right this minute.

"Ready to comply."



Tony put down the notebook and sat back in his seat, rubbing his chest as he swallowed again and again on his own feelings. He had read the files on how long it took them to break their prisoner into the early prototype Asset. It had only taken a little over a year. There had been a few little rebellions, after that- but he only really held out for a single year to break enough to be considered useful. To go on missions for them.

Tony had scoffed at that. He made it through three months in a cave just fine. Now however, Tony felt the cold water. He felt how helpless the tilt of the world in the chair was- the way he could no longer breathe, how the water rushed in and didn't leave his lungs completely no matter how he struggled.

Tony knew that the smell of stagnant water, the feel of cold water, could make him cough and choke, panic flooding his veins. What would that be like with something impossible to avoid like taking a wizz? He hated the sick son of a bitch that killed all those girls, that killed his mother, but right now he also pities the bastard. Killing him would quite actually be a mercy. Anything to stop that man remembering, would be a mercy. Steve died only a week after Barnes fell from the train. A few more days of the government hiding the fact he was dead. The paper would have been around two weeks in. Maybe a month after that they show Barnes the paper. Maybe sooner. And he decides to try to die. Because he knows only Steve would bother trying to track him down, or maybe just to end the rest of it.

No one raped Tony in that cave. He wasn't alone, either. He had Yensin. He had touch. He had both his hands and he had hope.

The shortest time he figures James "Urinal" Barnes hung around in some sort of suspension fuck chamber, was at least half a year. Hell a month of that would be enough to drive most people insane. Deprivation chamber tests were high octane nightmare fuel. This? This was just plain sick.

A small part of Tony wished someone had been kind enough to rape or beat Barnes to death then too. It would be kinder to all involved. Tony hated how he wanted to give the guy a dozen therapists. But it was that or a bullet. Because nothing could really undo that. Tony stood and took his drink to pour it out, unable to really look at it now.

Apple juice must be hell for Sucky. Tony thought absently, picking up the notebook and flipping to the next horror. The next entry.

The next entry was in a new pen, and the lettering was half carved into the page. The next three pages were all stuck together, the pen having dug through the pages hard enough to tear and seal the following pages to it.

Tony felt a sinking weight in his gut, to match the nausea of earlier. He also found it ominous that now Johnny Cash was singing "I keep a close watch on this heart of mine". Walk the Line, nothing could go wrong with that playing while he read whatever had upset this particular madman enough to carve the words into the page.

Nothing at all.

Re: FIXED: Barfing Out Hurt (2/?) DAMN FORMATTING

[(Anonymous)]

OP: No matter how many fics I read where Bucky begs to be put down, it still hits me so hard in the feels every time.

"Hell a month of that would be enough to drive most people insane." Make that a few hours, Tony :( The human mind ... doesn't do very well under those conditions.

Bucky still calls it water! Ow, my heart.

Maybe it's been done before (but I haven't read a great deal of Tony content so I haven't seen it anywhere else) but I love the idea of Tony comparing Bucky's torture to his own and resenting him for not "holding out" like he did ... until he thinks a little harder about things. A lot of people like to just skip to the camaraderie that two people who survived similar horrors could have, but it's just as realistic for there to be bitterness and judgement when people try to weigh their experiences and reactions against each other's--and of course it's x1000 for these two.

That cliffhanger ... Oh my goodness. *rustles trash in nervous excitement*

This chapter almost felt like a respite after the last one, so I'm sure what comes next is going to be even more painful (in a good way).

Re: FIXED: Barfing Out Hurt (2/?) DAMN FORMATTING

[(Anonymous)]

This is amazing!! Can't wait for more