hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Unholy hell-miracle achieved! Welcome to Bad Guys Do Bad Things To Your Faves 2: Electric Boogaloo. AKA the seamy sexual-violence-and-violent-sex underbelly of Captain America fandom, 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] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by

greenkirtle)] [Round 2 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Round 2 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 3.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

No, you're wrong. Osteotomy is right. An ostomy is something completely different. Don't go correcting people if you have no clue yourself.

An osteotomy is a surgical operation whereby a bone is cut to shorten or lengthen it or to change its alignment.

An ostomy refers to the surgically created opening in the body for the discharge of body wastes.

I think ostomy is correct here.

DA

Agreeing, it's ostomy.

Also:

http://stoatsandwich.tumblr.com/post/109130168951/nam-sibyllam

A noise tears through the asset’s throat when he hits the ground and his body shatters.

He tries to move and the noise comes out again. The asset will be punished for making noise, but -- there are no handlers here.

On the next breath the noise slips out again. The asset does not try to stop it. Instead the asset attempts to assess the damage.

When he inhales there is the sensation of the bones of his ribcage grinding against each other. His right lung has been punctured. There is a heavy pressure inside his chest and his abdomen; blood is filling his chest cavity, pooling around his ruptured internal organs. Soon it will compress the remaining lung. There is more blood in his mouth ears throat eyes. On his next breath the blood catches in his throat. He coughs wetly. The splatter of blood is very warm on his face. It drips down the sides of his damaged jaw.

The asset attempts to move the metal arm - the only part of him that never feels damage. The arm does not respond, but the sensation of damage is enough to drag another ragged noise from the asset’s throat. The asset tilts his head -- black spots impair his vision for several long seconds -- enough to survey the damage to his abdomen and lower body. The place where the metal arm meets his torso is a twisted mess of wiring and exposed muscle. His left leg is visibly broken. Pieces of bone have pierced the skin. Blood is slowly spreading in the snow around the asset.

This is the most damage the asset has ever sustained. Already the effects of blood loss are beginning to dim his vision. His feet and hands are already numb, blood redirecting its path to his vital organs.

It still might not be enough.

The bones of the asset’s femur are in pieces. It would take only one of these shards to compromise the femoral artery. That in itself will only reduce the asset’s functionality for thirty eight minutes. But in addition to the rest of the damage, the blood loss will be severe.

If the asset moves his leg enough then it is likely that a piece of bone will compromise the artery. However, it would be more efficient to use the knife in his boot. He can’t use the one strapped to his left wrist because his left arm isn’t there anymore, and maybe he shouldn’t use a knife at all because what if they come back for him, what if St--

The asset blinks. There is no knife in his boot. His left arm is made of metal. The last piece of information is not so easy to dismiss: what if they come back for him. There is a sensation attached to this knowledge. A surge of warmth in his chest. The asset’s eyes are wet.

The handlers will be coming for him. But -- what if they come back for him -- there is someone else. Someone else is coming.

If the asset moves his leg and compromises the femoral artery, the damage will be very severe. Without immediate repair, he will cease to be functional. But if he is not functional, then -- what if they come back for him -- there will be nothing for them to find.

This is a test.

The asset lays his head back down.

The asset is -- the asset needs to wait. The asset knows this: someone is coming for him. The asset is supposed to wait. They will come. The knowledge is -- the asset feels -- the sensation is warm; not damage, but. Something else. It feels -- it is good.

The asset closes his eyes. Maybe when he opens them, this person will have found him.

+++

The asset wakes up strapped to the metal table.

+++

“--whatever it takes--”

“--keep it alive--”

Words sink into the asset’s skull like knives driven into his ears. There is blood there, impairing the asset’s hearing. He cannot open his eyes at all due to the blood on his face. The feeling of damage in his lower face and inside his head stops him from attempting to do so more than once.

There are more words spoken above his head. It is the handler. The asset was found by the handlers. They brought him back to the table. They strapped him face-down. They removed his clothing.

The damage was not sufficient.

A gloved thumb drags down the side of the asset’s face and drags his eyelids apart. It must be the damage that makes him forget not to flinch - when he does the handler hits the side of the asset’s head with an open palm. The hit itself does not cause damage, but it is the same as the lightstick: lighting up all the damaged parts of him; head chest arms legs feet.

The hand goes to the asset’s blood-wet hair and tugs, pulling his head up at an angle to face the handler.

“Look at me, asset,” the handler orders. His voice is like the sharp edge of a blade. The asset is not supposed to make eye contact with the handlers. This is a test.

When the asset does not comply the handler slams the asset’s face down against the metal table. Bone crunches.

The asset complies.

The handler tightens their grip on the asset’s hair and turns his head to the side, directing his gaze to the metal tray a few feet away. It is covered in the small metal weapons that the technicians use to treat the asset’s damage. Next to these are two needles.

The first one prevents the asset from moving. The technicians can carry out their missions more efficiently when the asset doesn’t move. The second needle is more rare. It is for when the damage is very severe. The second needle is like -- when they hold the asset’s head under the water, and he can still see and hear but it is not the same. The second needle is like blunting a knife.

There are two needles on the tray next to the asset. A technician reaches for one of them.

“No,” says the handler. “Not that one.”

The technician protests. “But--”

“It needs to know.”

A pause. Then the technician is reaching for the other needle.

There is a gloved hand on the asset’s neck, and then the small damage of the needle piercing the skin.

“The asset has been disobeying orders,” the handler says, turning the asset’s head back to face them. “The asset said that it was sustaining damage during its missions. Is that correct?”

The asset does not speak. Sometimes the handlers ask questions that do not require an answer. The handler puts a thumb on the asset’s chin, pressing down until the broken pieces of the asset’s jaw grind together.

“Answer me, asset,” the handler commands.

“Damage sustained,” the asset attempts to say, but the needle is already taking effect, and then the only thing that comes out of his mouth is blood. It blocks his airway; when he tries to inhale he chokes on it, but he cannot move his mouth to expel it. Blackness begins to bleed into his vision. The machines the asset is connected to begin to make noise. It sounds very distant.

“Sir?” says a technician out of the asset’s view. “We need to start now.”

“Go ahead,” the handler replies, and then they say something else, but the asset cannot process it over the sensation of damage as the technicians release the restraints and roll him on to his back. There is a strong chemical smell, and then the sensation of liquid poured on the asset’s damaged skin. Gloved hands pry open his mouth and push a plastic tube down his throat. The asset cannot flinch away. The asset cannot move.

A cold scalpel trails down the inside of his shattered thigh, and then slices in. There is another scalpel at his side, cutting between his ribs, and when the handler steps back and lets the asset’s head drop, two more technicians step forward. Gloved fingers pry open his mouth, and then, navigating around the tube, a scalpel is cutting into the flesh below his lower teeth. There are more incisions being made across the asset’s abdomen, at his shoulder, below his right knee. The technicians are repairing the damage. In order to do this they have to cause more damage first. The asset does not need to try not to move because the needle does that for him.

“I know what the asset was trying to do,” says the handler. The asset tries to focus on their voice. “The last four missions, when the asset came back damaged, I suspected something. And then, after the fifth mission,” the handler’s voice changes; a knife sharpening ,”when Dr Burkov tried to report me, I realised what was going on.”

“So on this last mission,” the handler continues, as a technician presses something plastic against the incision in the asset’s ribs, presses until it slides in in in and the damage is very great but the pressure in the asset’s chest begins to ease as the blood drains out, “I had a team follow the asset. Does it know what they saw?”

“They saw the asset jump.”

The handler’s words coincide with the sensation of a scalpel scraping against bone, gloved fingers prying apart the ragged flesh at the asset’s left shoulder, followed by an intense heat and the stench of burning flesh, and then -- circuitry connected deep within the asset’s abdomen pulls free, with the slick noise of flesh tearing. Something heavy and metallic hits the ground. The asset cannot make a noise.

“The asset lied to the handlers. The asset disobeyed the handler’s orders to head to extraction. The asset compromised it’s ability to complete future missions.”

The light above the asset’s head is very bright. The technicians are using it to see the extent of the asset’s damage. The light is like a very small knife sinking into the asset’s eye-sockets. The asset cannot close his eyes.

The technicians finish putting metal into the asset’s jaw.When they relocate to a different site of damage, the handler moves from their fixed position at the edge of the room to stand behind the asset’s head. One gloved hand presses against the asset’s hair. The other covers his eyes, shielding them from the light and the damage it causes.

The handler leans in very close. The asset can feel their lips brushing against the side of his face.

“What happens when the asset disobeys orders?” the handler says quietly.

This is a question. The asset cannot answer.

“Speak,” commands the handler.

The asset must not disobey the handler, but the needle -- the handler saw the needle, the handler must know that the asset cannot move -- but the asset has already disobeyed multiple orders --

The asset moves his mouth. There is no sound.

“Try again,” the handler orders.

The asset makes another attempt: “Punishment.” It is barely louder than an exhale. Blood drips from the corner of his mouth. The handler’s thumb smears it into the asset’s cheek.

“We don’t enjoy this. We don’t enjoy punishing the asset. If the asset had followed orders, we wouldn’t have to.”

The handler pauses. Then, another question: “What caused the punishment?”

“The asset did,” the asset answers.

The asset’s eyelids twitch. Soon he will be able to blink. The needle is becoming less effective.

“Does the asset deserve to be punished?”

The asset did not obey the handler’s orders. The asset compromised his ability to complete the mission. The asset lied to the handlers. The asset did this on multiple occasions.

“Yes,” says the asset.

The handler steps back, away from the asset.

“Finish up,” they command. “You have ten minutes, and then I want the room cleared.”

“The femur still needs metal implantation,” says a technician from near the asset’s feet.

“Ten minutes,” the handler repeats.

A technician reaches for another needle on the tray. The previous one is no longer effective.

“No,” says the handler. “None at all.”

There is the sound of the restraints being moved. The sensation of leather against the asset’s leg lasts for less than a second before being removed again.

“No restraints either,” the handler commands.

“But we’ve never--“

The handler moves to stand behind the asset’s head, gloved hand against the asset’s cheek.

“Hold still,” the handler orders, and then moves to the exit.

“Oh, and Dr Kezler?” the handler pauses at the door. ”Dr Berkov is no longer with us. You’ve been promoted. Congratulations.” The handler leaves.

The noise of a drill starts up near the asset’s leg.

The asset holds still.

+++

Six hundred and seventeen seconds after the handler left the room, the technicians finish up their missions and exit the room, switching off the light. The asset is left on the table.

The technicians have repaired the damage and removed the tube from the asset’s throat. The asset has orders to hold still. The asset does not require visual confirmation of the repairs to know that there is metal embedded in his left femur, holding the shattered pieces of bone together, more metal in his jaw to align the ragged ends of bone, plastic tubing in his side to drain the fluid in his chest, rows of stitches on his abdomen where the technicians reached inside to expose the ruptured organs. Maybe they removed them entirely, replaced them with metal.

The metal parts of the asset are the hardest to damage. The arm is gone. The arm was not damaged. It was the flesh around it that gave way. Maybe next time the technicians will replace the bones and skin there with metal. Maybe next time the asset will wake up and his entire body will be made of metal. That way the asset will be less likely to sustain damage. And if damage is sustained, the asset’s functionality will not be compromised. The asset will be more efficient. The metal does not feel damage.

oh my god this is terrible and amazing. the tone is both so precise and dissociated but at the same time so painful I'm just shuddering with how horror-wonderful this fill is. poor Bucky D:

THIS BODY HORROR MAKES ME BODY HAPPY

Seriously, your writing is phenomenal. We can see how detached the asset thinks he is, tries to be, from his current situation and at the same time see how viscerally everything effects him. A+++++++ would suffer untold agonies again.

I have a clue. Stoatsandwich definitely meant ostomies in her story as she answered asks about it later explaining that some people have a fetish for them. Why don't you chill out since no one was upset about this except you?

'Osteon' is Greek for 'bone.'

'Stoma' is Greek for 'mouth'.

Stoma/-ostomy (the corresponding suffix) is the correct term.

Owwwwwww this is beautifully painful. He's trying so hard and it doesn't do anything but make things worse.

The train memories! The "what if they come back for him?" Your writing is gorgeous, and it hurts so good.

The punishment is usually carried out by three handlers. Sometimes four, sometimes two. On one occasion there were six. That punishment had been very severe.

The handler enters the room, holding the door open for others to enter.

There are a lot more than six.

The asset cannot turn his head to look. From the sounds of the room he determines that there are approximately seventeen handlers in the room; the distant tap of boots in the corridor signals the arrival of further reinforcements.

The asset stares straight ahead as gloved hands manoeuvre him onto his front. The tubing in his side pulls tight against the skin around it until a handler moves the connecting machine around the table to the correct side. The gloved hands on the asset’s skin do not pull away.

“You have your orders,” says the handler, voice loud in the quiet room.

“Order through pain,” respond the other handlers in unison.

The handler moves across the room and crouches down in front of the asset. The single light bulb hanging down from the ceiling casts parts of their face into heavy shadow. Their eyes are level with the asset. The asset must hold still. He must not look away.

“The asset has a new order: the asset must not sustain damage unless ordered by a handler.”

The asset must confirm the order. The asset must confirm the order. But -- you gotta fight back---

The asset remains silent.

After a few long seconds, the handler stands up and steps back.

The rest of the handlers step forward. The gloved hands on the asset’s skin tighten to the point of damage. Two hands slide up the inside of the asset’s thigh, snagging on the stitching there. The fingers of one hand slide up further, push in. The glove’s fabric is coarse. Blood drips down the asset’s thigh.

The other hands are everywhere, pressing against the dark bruising on his side until ribs grind together, digging into the mess of his left shoulder, the stitches on his abdomen, his leg, his jaw. The handler behind removes their fingers and replaces it with something thicker, tearing the wound wider, slicking the way with blood. Handlers in front press at the asset’s jaw until the sensation of damage forces him to gasp for air. Gloved fingers press into his mouth, holding it open for a handler to press inside. Something hits the back of the asset’s throat and he chokes, can’t breathe past the blood in his nose and the intrusion in his mouth and -- you gotta fight -- the asset bites down, blood filling his mouth.

The handler yells and tries to pull away and there are gloves pulling at the asset’s shoulders and pressing down on his broken ribs but he’s not letting go -- he’s not --

In the split second before the hands pull away the asset registers the noise of electricity, and then the lightstick is pressing against the mess of his shoulder and the asset doesn’t register anything at all, can’t process anything beyond the white light sparking down his spine into his legs his toes up into his head his shoulders his arm that isn’t even there anymore. It takes hours, days before the lightstick pulls away, and the asset would gasp at the reprieve but the handler is still in his mouth and he can smell burning flesh and the damage of strained muscles and then the lightstick connects again, pressing right where the bruising is darkest, electricity wrapping around the asset’s ribs, coiling around vertebrae, ensnaring bone flesh skin, every muscle like a garrotte wire pulled too tight. The lightstick pulls away -- the click of the charge being set to the highest setting, and then the white light is pressing at the back of his skull and the damage is a tide rolling over him he’s drowning in it it’s crushing him taking him apart pressure pushing him down down down--

The wire snaps.

The asset’s eyes roll into the back of his head and his spine arches and the lightstick pulls away but the asset continues to shake and shake and shake, body beyond his control and he can’t see can’t hear can’t breathe and the shaking doesn’t stop, will never end and damage sustained damage sustained damage sustained --

The asset regains awareness slowly. His face is pressed against the table. He relaxes his tensed jaw; blood and pieces of flesh slide over his lips. His body is still shaking all over. Someone is screaming -- the handler that was in his mouth, now on the ground, being dragged from the room, smears of blood all over the floor. The handler that was behind him doesn’t scream at all. Their body is still as other handlers drag them from the room.

Gloved fingers hold the asset’s mouth open, press something inside, hook it behind the asset’s teeth and fasten the connecting straps at the back of the asset’s head. The edges of it cut at the corners of the asset’s mouth, the spikes on the sides close to slicing his cheeks. It tastes of metal. The asset tries to bite down; it makes the broken edges of bone in his jaw grind together.

“Anders and Broznik did not follow mission protocol,” says the handler. “The asset sustained damage because of their failings. They had their orders, and they did not follow them.”

“Order through pain,” comes the chorused response.

The handlers crowd in close. The asset can feel the warmth of their breath on his skin. The asset does not move. A gloved hand takes hold of one of the exposed metal rods in the asset’s leg and twists. The asset does not move. There is pressure, the sensation of damage as something pushes inside. The asset does not move.

And then -- more hands on his legs, spreading them apart, almost to the point of causing damage. The warmth of another handler behind him, driving themselves in, and then -- more pressure, right on the raw damage where the first handler already is, and then -- damage sustained -- the second handler pushes forward, pushes in, flesh is tearing, they’re tearing the asset in half.

The asset screams. He is not supposed to. The noise comes out anyway.

Handlers crowd in front of him, pants unzipped. Gloved fingers grip at his jaw, drawing him forward as they push into his mouth, through the metal ring strapped there. They hit the back of his throat, the sensation making him gag and he can barely breathe past the blood in his cracked nose, each inhalation sending white sparks up behind his eyes. After a few thrusts the handler pulls free, spurting hot fluid over the asset’s face, and the asset has barely a moment to draw a sharp breath before another handler is pressing in. Gloved hands tug at his hair, the metal in his leg, the tube in his side, fingers tracing the rows of stitches on his back and shoulder and thighs, pressing at the bruising all over him and digging into the ragged burn marks on his skin. There’s small flashes of damage all over, insignificant compared to the damage between his legs -- handlers are slicing shallow cuts all over the asset’s skin.

Sometimes during punishments the asset closes his eyes and goes away inside, and when he comes back the punishment is over and he only needs to wait for the damage to recover. He attempts that now, slipping under, away from his body and what they’re doing to it, but the moment his eyes close a gloved hand clamps down on his nose, squeezing tightly, and the sudden shock of damage drags him back to the surface, choking, unable to breathe past the hand over his nose and the intrusion in his mouth. Just as the blackness is about to fill his vision, the hand loosens its hold enough for him to inhale, dragging air past the newly-damaged tissue in his nose.

He tries twice more over the next hour, as handler after handler pushes their way inside, and each time they drag him back, until finally, the realisation: he cannot go away inside like he has done before.

He can only wait for it to be over.

do you happen to have a link to that ask?

No, it was a fairly long time ago. She just explained that it's a fetish, some people have sex with them and there's a term for it, and that the lowest stoma is the one that would serve its intended purpose and the other ones would be for sex. I think that was about it.

I'm not sure why this fic is affecting me so much, only that it's so so upsetting! I think it's bc your characterisation rings really true - I really believe this version of Bucky is the same version as the guy in the bank vault, and the way he's still finding ways to resist and is still capable of resistance on any level in the face of this brutality is just!!!

I love that he's still waiting for Steve, I love that moment at the start of this part where you can just hear the handlers filing in, and I love how restrained the writing is! "That punishment had been very severe", "the asset must hold still" - there's so much implied but Bucky can't/isn't allowed to express how he feels even inside his head.

This fic is making me feel sick and I'm so glad!

(just out of curiosity, are you planning on writing anything post-ws in this 'verse?)

Thanks for taking the time to comment - this is really encouraging to hear!

yay! you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear this - rl has been kicking my ass lately but lovely comments like this are making up for it! it's funny; the bit you quoted is actually the first part that i wrote and pretty much informed the tone of the rest of the fill - glad to hear it works for you!

thank you, this is so good to hear - i had the image in my head and wasn't quite sure if it managed to translate onto the page, but i'm glad that it worked for you!

oh man i want to print this comment out and frame it on my wall or something, like - this is literally only the second fic i've ever written to completion (hopefully) bc i struggle with writer's block so bad + also the fear of not knowing how people will react to it, so this is super, super encouraging to hear!

umm... wow. Didn't expect Steve to pick it up so quickly. Can't wait for the debrief afterward!

god, I can only imagine.

Bucky: so you can see why I'd be reluctant to tell you about this

Steve:

Steve: ...yeah

*falls off bed and sobs* Noooooooooooo.

I mean this was great but I'm so ... so wrecked now ...

Maybe in like, a few years, Bucky will be able to process relationships as something other than handler/asset? Maybe? *cries* Nooooooooo ...

You are welcome! Well do I know the power of the internet comment!

I love this! I especially like how Steve is completely confused about what's going on - Bucky isn't in any shape to explain it to him, and HYDRA doesn't find it worth the effort. Why bother gloating to someone as insignificant as Steve is?

This is brilliant. Setting up camp here for more.

OK 1. THIS COMMENT IS SO LOVELY I'M GONNA CRY AND 2. BODY HORROR IS 1000% MY JAM

Honestly I write so much stuff that I don't post because I feel too nervous about it, but comments like this, just. Thank you so much! And also: sorry for all the horrible things I'm putting Bucky through D:

As a person who constantly second-guesses themselves about their writing, this is so encouraging to hear. I was a little nervous about posting this, since about 4k in I realised I wasn't actually sticking to the original prompt, but your comment is so lovely and I really appreciate you taking the time to give some feedback!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

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Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Re: Multiiple osteotomies

Re: Multiiple osteotomies

Re: Multiiple osteotomies

FILL: Damage Sustained [3/?]

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Re: Multiiple osteotomies

Re: Multiiple osteotomies

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FILL: Damage Sustained [4/?]

Re: Multiiple osteotomies

Re: Multiiple osteotomies

Re: FILL: Damage Sustained [4/?]

Re: FILL: Damage Sustained [1/?]

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Re: FILL: Damage Sustained [2/?]

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Re: Fill: Drink Me, 9/?

Re: Fill: Drink Me, 9/?

Re: Fill: Leader of the Pack (10/10) FINISHED

Re: FILL: Damage Sustained [1/?]

Re: FILL (3/?)

Re: FILL (3/?)

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Re: FILL: Damage Sustained [3/?]