ready to comply
Sep. 4th, 2022 12:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
semi_stable[cw: descriptions of a panic attack, mentions of PTSD]
Things have been going very well for Bucky as of late, so it's no real surprise when he's suddenly knocked on his ass again. That's how it goes, after all. That's his story. That's how it always goes.
This time, all he's doing is walking down the street. He's smiling, almost even laughing, sipping at an iced coffee. He's talking with a friend, gesturing with his prosthetic hand, ungloved and visible to anyone who looks at him, and anyone who did wouldn't even be able to tell how broken he is.
Because he is broken. He always will be in some way or another. His brain was taken apart and put back together over and over again, scrambled and reformed, and he'll never be healed from that, not completely. Not to mention all the trauma and abuse, decades of it, and he can have a few good months but he'll never be totally free.
This is proven to him as he's walking past some sort of street fair out in front of his building. It's noisy, with people milling about and several different radios tuned to different stations drowning each other out. They suddenly all go quiet, music and talking replaced with an eerie, quiet static.
Longing.
The word makes Bucky go still, face draining of color. It's a low, commanding male voice speaking in Russian, and Bucky feels a little like he might throw up.
Rusted.
It's coming from every radio, even one from a car passing by, windows rolled down to take advantage of the nice day. It's coming from everywhere and Bucky's coffee falls from his hand, plastic cracking as it breaks against the pavement. "No."
Furnace.
"No, no, no, please," Bucky pleads in Russian, reaching up to put his hands over his ears. It's so unexpected to hear his trigger words that he forgets for a moment that he's supposed to have been cured of them, rewired during his time in Wakanda. But then he remembers, and it doesn't help. Whoever is behind this place has proven how powerful they are, and who's to say that they didn't undo that, too?
Daybreak.
It's getting louder now, more forceful, and Bucky lets out a panicked shout as he stumbles backwards, breathing heavily and shaking his head. He's flooded so suddenly with adrenaline, like ice water being dumped over his head, and he can hear his heart beating. Air gets stuck in his chest and he can't breathe, and while he recognizes the signs of a panic attack, he can't seem to make it stop. He's too terrified of what might be about to happen to do anything but panic.
Seventeen.
"No, no, not again," he chokes out, turning to run into the lobby of his building to try and get away from it, only to find that they're playing in there too, pumping tinnily out of a speaker in the corner. He chokes out a sob and sinks to the floor, pushing himself back into a corner and covering his ears. Someone follows after him and Bucky holds out his hand. "Stop! Stay back."
Benign.
There are four more. Only four more words until Bucky finds out of the switch in his brain will be flipped, if he'll climb to his feet and stand at attention. Four more words until this city finds out if the Winter Soldier is ready to comply.
[Help him. Have your pup be the person he was walking with and/or the one who finds him in the lobby. Despite his fears, the trigger words will not do anything because he's still cured, but he's still going through one hell of a PTSD episode.]
Things have been going very well for Bucky as of late, so it's no real surprise when he's suddenly knocked on his ass again. That's how it goes, after all. That's his story. That's how it always goes.
This time, all he's doing is walking down the street. He's smiling, almost even laughing, sipping at an iced coffee. He's talking with a friend, gesturing with his prosthetic hand, ungloved and visible to anyone who looks at him, and anyone who did wouldn't even be able to tell how broken he is.
Because he is broken. He always will be in some way or another. His brain was taken apart and put back together over and over again, scrambled and reformed, and he'll never be healed from that, not completely. Not to mention all the trauma and abuse, decades of it, and he can have a few good months but he'll never be totally free.
This is proven to him as he's walking past some sort of street fair out in front of his building. It's noisy, with people milling about and several different radios tuned to different stations drowning each other out. They suddenly all go quiet, music and talking replaced with an eerie, quiet static.
Longing.
The word makes Bucky go still, face draining of color. It's a low, commanding male voice speaking in Russian, and Bucky feels a little like he might throw up.
Rusted.
It's coming from every radio, even one from a car passing by, windows rolled down to take advantage of the nice day. It's coming from everywhere and Bucky's coffee falls from his hand, plastic cracking as it breaks against the pavement. "No."
Furnace.
"No, no, no, please," Bucky pleads in Russian, reaching up to put his hands over his ears. It's so unexpected to hear his trigger words that he forgets for a moment that he's supposed to have been cured of them, rewired during his time in Wakanda. But then he remembers, and it doesn't help. Whoever is behind this place has proven how powerful they are, and who's to say that they didn't undo that, too?
Daybreak.
It's getting louder now, more forceful, and Bucky lets out a panicked shout as he stumbles backwards, breathing heavily and shaking his head. He's flooded so suddenly with adrenaline, like ice water being dumped over his head, and he can hear his heart beating. Air gets stuck in his chest and he can't breathe, and while he recognizes the signs of a panic attack, he can't seem to make it stop. He's too terrified of what might be about to happen to do anything but panic.
Seventeen.
"No, no, not again," he chokes out, turning to run into the lobby of his building to try and get away from it, only to find that they're playing in there too, pumping tinnily out of a speaker in the corner. He chokes out a sob and sinks to the floor, pushing himself back into a corner and covering his ears. Someone follows after him and Bucky holds out his hand. "Stop! Stay back."
Benign.
There are four more. Only four more words until Bucky finds out of the switch in his brain will be flipped, if he'll climb to his feet and stand at attention. Four more words until this city finds out if the Winter Soldier is ready to comply.
[Help him. Have your pup be the person he was walking with and/or the one who finds him in the lobby. Despite his fears, the trigger words will not do anything because he's still cured, but he's still going through one hell of a PTSD episode.]
no subject
Date: 2022-09-05 10:17 pm (UTC)She and Bucky have just finished brunch, a luxury Lari is afforded by her new job as a caterer for a very classy hotel. She's even had a few jobs so far, and they've done very well, if she does say so herself. That brunch is meant to be succeeded by a fun romp in either his bedroom or on his couch is only a happy side benefit, honestly.
And then the speaker in a nearby car, and other speakers nearby, restaurants and cafes each playing their own music, all change simultaneously to that strange new channel. Larita can't speak Russian, but she knows one or two words, and nothing that she hears seems particularly offensive.
But Bucky becomes an explosion of sound and movement, away from her.
No, not away from her. From this broadcast.
"Bucky!" she calls when he rushes into the lobby. She follows after him, concern and fear warring with themselves inside her. She's never seen him like this before. She's never seen anyone like this before, not since her first husband, when the cancer got too thick in his mind.
His hand flies up, warding her back, and she holds hers out, palms towards him.
"Bucky, it's me," she tries. "It's Lari."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-08 06:53 am (UTC)Nine.
"I told you-- I told you that I was made to do things that I didn't want to do," he pants out, gritting his teeth as he stares at the speaker in the corner in terror. "This is how they did it."
The words shouldn't work. They aren't supposed to anymore, and maybe they won't here, but he can't be sure.
Homecoming.
no subject
Date: 2022-09-08 10:47 am (UTC)It seems impossible, but it's happening. For the first time since she's met Bucky, Lari actually believes he might hurt her. Not because he wants to, but because he'll have to.
"Bucky," she says, keeping her tone level-headed. Damn cool in a crisis, Jim had called her. This might not be a crisis, not yet, but Bucky certainly seems to think it's about to be. "If what you think is about to happen happens, what do you need me to do?"
no subject
Date: 2022-09-15 08:48 pm (UTC)It's too late, he almost says. If the worst happens, she's already too close to him. She's already in the way. A witness. An innocent bystander. Those are the ones that he feels most guilty about.
"Get on the elevator," he grits out, because that will be safer than her running out the door, and if she's out of sight, he might not even remember her if the programming takes over. He might not remember anybody.
One. It's too late. There isn't time, and Bucky just has to hope that his deprogramming is still in place, and that he won't lose himself. Freight car.
Everything seems to go eerily silent and still, aside from the blood rushing between his ears, heart pounding, and Bucky waits. Seconds pass and nothing happens. There is no pull at his mind, nothing forcing him to stand up and comply. He goes limp, air rushing out of him as he leans back against the corner. "It's okay," he says to Lari. "It's gonna be okay."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-22 11:09 pm (UTC)Bucky's entire body seems to sag, and she shifts to her knees; it's a wildly vulnerable position, given what they'd both just thought was about to happen, but she shifts closer, not away, and rests her hand on his shin.
"Of course it is," she says softly, like she'd never expected otherwise.
no subject
Date: 2022-09-29 08:04 pm (UTC)Even though the Russian voice has stopped and Bucky has started to calm down, he still wouldn't have been surprised if Lari ran. He wouldn't have blamed her, either. From an outside perspective, he must look like a crazy person. He is a crazy person in some ways, and what just happened only makes him realize just how much.
But Lari doesn't run from him. She gets on her knees and shifts closer, and Bucky finds himself a little stunned and a lot grateful. Her words even make him smile the slightest bit, and he reaches up to push his hair back from his face, looking at her helplessly. "This place really likes to fuck with us."
no subject
Date: 2022-10-02 01:13 pm (UTC)"I know. Before Darrow, I would never have thought a city could like doing anything." She smiles wryly, shaking her head. Apparently a city can do and feel as much as any person. "Come on. Let's get you to your couch and your dog." Her instinct is to pour him a drink, but she knows Bucky can't really get drunk. She's still not entirely sure how that's possible, but then again, there are a lot of things she's learned to try to accept at face value. Anything seems possible, here.
no subject
Date: 2022-10-06 08:06 pm (UTC)"Yeah, there's a plan." Bucky sighs, feeling suddenly drained, and then pulls himself to his feet, offering his good hand to Lari to help her up as well. She's being so understanding about all it, and her staying calm helps but to stay calm, so he holds onto her hand as he heads toward the elevator.
"If you want to stick around, I'll explain a few things," he asysas he presses the button. It isn't because he feels like he has to, but because he wants to. Because she stuck by him, even though that. "But I get it if you want to take off."
no subject
Date: 2022-10-07 02:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-10-11 06:21 am (UTC)"Bopp is gonna be a mess, fair warning," he tells her as the elevator climbs. "She, uh-- she usually helps me when I get those."
no subject
Date: 2022-10-16 01:53 pm (UTC)There's a part of her that wonders if they could have gotten a dog like that for Jim — if he'd left the Whittaker estate with her when she left John, like she'd been hoping for without realizing it when she'd pushed over that silly replica statue, would they have been able to find such a thing? A dog trainer who could teach dogs to help veterans out of their shell shock?
That doesn't matter here, though. Here, only Bucky matters right now, getting him to his apartment and letting his dog take care of him.