hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

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.

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Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.

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Bucky couldn’t feel his feet or hands, and his right shoulder ached; his left seemed better, but he wasn’t sure how much that had to do with the whole arm feeling dull. His jaw hurt miserably, forced too wide around the metal ring, and his lips were painfully dry. He was hungry.

He had always been good at estimating the time. In the silent white room, however, he lost track entirely, with nothing to count by but the flashes of memory. He’d blink, and one of them would be there, pushing into his mouth, the taste of sweat sour on his tongue. Choking, gagging. Their voices when they laughed.

They’d kept calling him ‘the asset’, like he was a piece of property, an object.

He was tired, like he’d been awake for days, and he wished passionately that he could just lie down straight. A little experimentation proved that he couldn’t get up onto the cot; in fact he almost fell over trying, and finally he just leaned back as best he could and closed his eyes.

He didn’t think about Steve. Steve had no place here.

*

When the door slid open Bucky snapped out of his fragile doze with a start, his heart instantly pounding. He had no idea how long it had been, but Asshole #1, in the lead as always, looked like a guy who’d been relaxing, and Bucky hated him just a tiny bit more.

“Hey, kid,” Asshole #1 said, and he still talked like they were pals. Bucky wanted to punch him so bad he could taste it. “Having fun yet?” Bucky glared and Asshole #1 smirked at him. “Get him up.”

Two guys grabbed his arms and a third unchained his wrists from his ankles, and Bucky couldn’t disguise the breath of relief that was almost a sob as they hauled him to his feet. He couldn’t balance, his legs numb from the hips down and the metal on his arm pulling him lopsided, but he made himself hold his head straight even as he had to rely on his supporters to stay upright.

“If you play nice, this’ll be a little easier,” Asshole #1 said. Bucky rolled his eyes and Asshole #1 backhanded him hard, snapping his head to the side. He grunted, but he could take a hit.

Asshole #1 looked him over for a few seconds and nodded. “Think you can use a little more rope to hang yourself with,” he said. “Take it off.” Fingers moved over the buckles holding the gag and the straps loosened. When the horrible thing peeled away it almost hurt more to close his mouth and he knew he wouldn’t be able to talk right until he could work up some spit.

He focused on that because his legs were starting to wake up, and Bucky knew it wasn’t going to be any fun.

“You gonna try’n be smart with me?” Asshole #1 asked.

“Someone in here should be,” Bucky croaked. His voice sounded terrible. Sure enough, that got him hit again.

“You need to learn how to behave.”

Bucky licked at his bleeding lip and made big innocent eyes at him. “I’m behavin’.”

Asshole #1 sneered and said, “Let’s do it.”

At first, Bucky went along with it because Rollins knelt to take the finger-trap off his ankles. But then they walked him over to the narrow end of the cot and Asshole #1 shoved him in the back, trying to make him bend over forward and—he knew it was stupid. His hands were still behind his back and there were still seven of them to one of him and he’d still bet a month’s rent that damn door didn’t unlock from the inside. But that position just wasn’t going to go anywhere he wanted to think about.

He spun in place, breaking the hold they had on his upper arms, and kicked out with his left foot, catching Handcuffs at the ankles. The guy went down with a startled yelp. Bucky ducked through the opening, trying to get his back to a wall. He caught a glimpse of Asshole #1 scraping the nightstick off his belt but ignored it; he was on Bucky’s left side and the metal on the arm had to be good for something.

Except the nightstick lit up with sparks, like the Jacob’s ladder he and Steve had seen at the museum and stood for almost an hour wondering at, and when it hit the arm the shock burst through him like a bolt from the blue. The world went fuzzy and far-away, not for very long but long enough for them to bend him over the cot with his knees in shackles that were welded to the legs, and he was just starting to get it together again as they let his wrists loose. His right got one of the pairs of handcuffs; his left stayed in the finger-trap and they did something fancy with the length of chain. By the time they were done he was face down in the thin mattress, his hands in a vee above his head, cursing them all steadily because if he stopped being angry he was going to fucking cry.

But hey, at least he was still dressed.

“Get his shirt,” said Asshole #1. One of the guys stepped up and Bucky tensed at the touch of cool metal at the small of his back. It was the blade of a pair of scissors; the guy cut his shirt off. Not that it had been a whole lot of protection, but Bucky shivered anyway, a whole-body shudder that blindsided him.

“Now you’re starting to get it,” Asshole #1 said. “Order only comes through pain, kid.”

“Fuck you right up one side and down the other, you son of a pox-ridden whore,” Bucky snarled.

“Enjoy your smart mouth while you can. We’re going to teach you some respect.”

There were some soft noises, behind his back where he couldn’t get a good look; he was sure they were doing it that way on purpose and didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of trying to crane his neck, so he just lay there, muttering every curse he could think of, his eyes closed. He had no warning.

There was a faint sound, no more than a rush of air, and then a line of fire snapped down across his back. Bucky’s eyes flew open and he choked on his own breath trying to scream. Before he could get it worked out, the whip came down again.

Bucky's defiance gives me life. This continues to be amazing!

Whipping!! Anon, you are my trash angel and your Bucky is a gem.

This is so wonderfully awful.

Ahh whipping yes!! (Im not messed up or anything, shh...) This story is so good, like wow. I'm so sad there are only two chapters left, but I can't wait to see where you will go with it!

Also (I just thought of this and I would love to see it, if you also liked the idea), what if HYDRA was recording all of this, and Steve somehow found out about it years later? It's bad enough that Bucky went through it at all, but now it's actually Steve's Bucky, who's all innocent and young (if that makes sense). Only if it fit with what you had in mind.

Anyway, great story!!

Whipping is not where I expected that to go, but I am pretty happy it went there! Aww, poor Bucky. I do have a feeling it's not going to end with whipping. I love how defiant he is, and how it means exactly nothing to what's happening to him.

a!a: Your feeling is entirely correct.

The combination of physical, emotional, and sexual torture in this would be great in any trashfic, but it's an extra layer of terrible that it's happening to innocent baby Bucky, whose normal-guy life has no context for this experience. As far as he knows, he went to sleep in his own home, in his own life, and woke up to horrible torture. I love it.

(OP anon) everything about this is great. Poor bb Bucky finally gets a chance to use his new body and gets totally blindsided because he has no frame of reference to understand how to defend himself. I love that Bucky is defiant but has some inkling of what's coming because it just underlines how hopeless the situation is. Like, what can he even gain from it and what kind of rescue can he even hope for like this? D: D: D: And I'm super looking forward to seeing how you wrap this up, since this seems pre-catws and this hurts so good with Bucky just suddenly disoriented. I love everything about this.

(Also ugh if Rumlow meant this when he taunts Steve by telling him Bucky remembered him.)

Wait, when did Rumlow say that? I don't remember them talking about Bucky at all. At least not in the movie.

There was a trailer at D23 with Rumlow telling Steve "he remembered you, your friend, your Bucky" or something to that effect. It wasn't in the movie and I don't think the trailer leaked anywhere.

YOUR PAL, YOUR BUDDY, YOUR BUCKY

NA i can't even tell you how much i love everyone in this dumpster.

:is ded:

Wait wait wait, is there a link to this somewhere? Pretty please say yes

No, it wasn't actually online, just described by a few people who were at d23.

https://www.reddit.com/r/marvelstudios/comments/3h494w/d23_civil_war_trailer_details_official/
http://brendaonao3.tumblr.com/post/126773925984/your-mothers-name-was-sarah

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Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

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