#DD:DE

[callsign-bunnie]

I Just Can’t Do This Anymore PT1

Rodolfo has been at his limit for a while. He can’t handle never being enough for anyone, he can’t handle loving someone who he is sure doesn’t love him back. He’s ready to be done with all of this. So, he writes his note and he says goodbye. And then... he wakes up again. But this time... he wakes up hungry. 

TW: Suicide, cannibalism, murder, self hatred, DD:DE

--

Dear Alejandro,

Or whoever reads this note. Alvarez, Alejandro… whoever. 

I’m sorry. I know it’s cliche, but I am. I’ve spent most of my life just trying to be better. Healthier. Nicer. I’ve just gotten to a point in my life where I’ve realized I am a deeply unlikeable person. 

I can’t make friends stay long enough, I can’t even get the man I am in love with to love me back. I am deeply and utterly unloveable. Unlikeable. I tried so unbelievably hard to just be someone that people would like. And I am not. 

I act like nothing affects me, but the truth is… it does. I am so deeply unhappy with my life and it’s getting to a point where I just can’t ignore it. Gentle teasing has become too hard for me to stomach. I say things and they’re ignored and… I want to fly off the handle. 

I’m sorry that I couldn’t be better. I’m sorry I couldn’t be good enough. I’m sorry I couldn’t make everyone happy. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

I’m sorry that I wasn’t born a daughter to my mother. I’m sorry I couldn’t be good enough to my father. I’m sorry I fell in love with you, knowing you could never love me back, knowing I would never be good enough, Alejandro. I’m sorry. 

I shouldn’t have even been allowed into the military. I lied on all of my tests. I just wanted to follow you, I wanted to stay with you.

I’m sorry.

Rodolfo.

Rodolfo looked down at the small piece of paper. Funny, he had felt like he’d had more to say before. But, this seemed to be all his brain could come up with as he folded it in half and left it beside his bed. He didn’t want to be messy, he wanted everything to be neat. 

No one would find him until it was too late. Alejandro was at a bar, likely having a hookup. All of their men were either home or in their quarters, asleep. 

Rodolfo would have full peace, full edge to do this. So, he started to take the pills.

He had been smart. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take all of them at once. So he had a giant bottle of water, which he was using to take them four at a time. 

And finally, a whole bottle of benadryl. A giant bottle. Not the little ones you get for four dollars at a convenience store or pharmacy. It was the big bulk off-brand bottle you get from a bulk store. 

He didn’t intend to wake up from this one. He had failed before. Perhaps he had wanted to fail, perhaps he hadn’t been quite ready to die, yet. But this time… This time he was ready. 

He’d woken up in a good mood for the first time in months. He’d smiled to everyone, hell, he’d even waved when he’d went to check on Valeria, who was being held for questioning. 

He’d given the biggest smiles he’d ever given to everyone, too. 

Some were shocked, he knew. But… It was okay, because it was finally over. He carefully curled up in bed, staring at the wall. Already, sleep tugged at the sides of his brain, and he gave into it, slowly. 

I’m sorry. 

-

Waking up was a new sort of hell. Rodolfo’s brain felt so unbelievably foggy and he was absolutely starving. Eat. Eat. 

He dragged himself out of bed, frowning as he saw the folded up suicide note on the side table by his bed. Had he survived? Well, that would explain the shit feeling. Fuck, it felt like his body was rejecting every inch of his skin. 

How the actual fuck had he even survived? He looked down at his hands, frowning at the pale ashy tint to his skin, almost as if a grey tint had been poured over it. Gross. He needed a shower. So, he headed in that direction, stepping into the bathroom and stripping himself of his clothing. 

He turned the water as hot as it could go, barely even feeling the way it scalded his skin. Really? He just felt disappointed. He’d really hoped this was the one. He’d really hoped he was done. 

There was always later, he supposed, but he’d really been hoping it was now. 

He scratched so hard into his skin it was deep red and then when he decided he was satisfied, he got out, dried off, and then pulled clothes back on. 

He took the note and shoved it in the nightstand, the other ones in it just laughing at him. One of you will be used one day, he was sure. 

One day. 

Rodolfo was unsurprised at how tired he was. He’d taken an entire bottle of benadryl, being exhausted was expected, honestly. But, this was almost excessive. He rubbed at his eyes and just shrugged it off, deciding to worry about it, later. 

Rodolfo looked at the empty bottle of benadryl and made a face. He’d taken an entire giant bottle. It’d been unopened, too, and 600 tablets at 25 milligrams each… 15,000. Fifteen thousand. He’d taken 15,000 milligrams of benadryl, which was literally just diphenhydramine with an antihistamine. 

1.5 grams of diphenhydramine was potentially lethal. You could survive it but… it was still potentially lethal. Rodolfo had taken 15 grams of benadryl. He counted on his fingers to do the math, too tired to be bothered with doing mental math. 1.5, 3, 4.5… That was ten times the potentially lethal dose of Benadryl. 

How the actual fuck was he alive? And honestly, despite feeling like he’d only slept for an hour after being awake three days… He felt fine. He felt alive. He touched his wrist, feeling his heartbeat. 

His attention was torn towards the door as he heard footsteps approach and then a soft knocking. He frowned and carefully moved towards the door, opening it to see Alejandro was standing there. 

“Rudy,” Alejandro smiled and then frowned barely a moment later. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” Rodolfo snorted and then reached up, touching his face. “What do you need?”

“It’s 11:00.” Alejandro raised an eyebrow. 

“It is?!” Rodolfo jerked his head to look at the clock, confirming that it was, in fact, 11:00. Rodolfo usually didn’t sleep that late. “Oh my god, I’m- Fuck, I didn’t realize.” He held his head and then shook it. “Give me a moment-”

“That’s fine, but you need to hurry. We’re supposed to head out. You missed Valeria being released, by the way.” Alejandro sighed, softly. 

Rodolfo quickly nodded and closed the door again before yanking on his hoodie and boots, lacing them up as fast as he could. Fuck, Alejandro was probably so pissed. He went and checked his face in the mirror, frowning at the dark circles under his eyes. He’d survived 15 grams of benadryl, that was probably to be expected, but damn. 

His stomach cramped and he winced. He’d eat after the mission. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too distracting…

He shook it off and turned, quickly leaving. 

-

“Rudy, are you sure you’re okay?” This was not an appropriate question to ask over the comms. Even still, his heart fluttered at the concern in Alejandro’s voice. “You’ve been acting off.”

Rodolfo held his gun tightly, trying hard to ignore the aching in his stomach. “I’m good, commander. I didn’t sleep well last night, but I’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” Alejandro didn’t sound convinced but Rodolfo didn’t mind. He knew Alejandro wouldn’t question him too much on the subject. They used to have so many arguments because Alejandro would push Rodolfo too hard on issues he didn’t want to answer. 

Rodolfo shook his head, his eyelids feeling heavy. Fuck. Then, he felt nauseous. Oh, no, oh no. He tried to guide his team into the building they needed to be in, falling back and pretending to be holding the door. 

They were doing another raid, it was just a raid. Valeria was being released the next day, so they were doing their best to get done what they could, which had so far been nothing. However, a raid was a raid. Hard to go wrong with them. 

As soon as all of his men were through, he fell over and vomited immediately. He made a face at the little pink pills in his vomit, holding his stomach. His gun had fallen a small distance away. God, there was blood, too, making his actual vomit a similar color to the pills, though they were slightly too artificially pink. 

He gagged and then puked again, more of the pills coming up. “Fuck…” He rasped, his vision slightly blurry. He hated puking, he hated it so much. 

Fingers touched the side of his face and his anxiety spiked. If Alejandro saw the pills, he’d know what happened, immediately. He looked up, expecting to see Alejandro’s face, but instead he was greeted with a woman’s. Not Valeria but… if his eyes unfocused, he could have easily mistaken her for Valeria. 

“Aww… poor thing…” She cooed and then clicked her tongue. “You almost succeeded that time.” 

Her voice made his stomach clench and her touch made his skin crawl. She smelled wrong. Like… too much perfume. But she was beautiful. Not in a way that made Rodolfo want her but… in a way that made him unable to stare for too long. 

She touched more of his face and he couldn’t resist the urge anymore, hunching over and puking again. This time, it was mostly blood and she laughed at him. Of course she did. She’d done this. He didn’t know how but this was her fault. 

The woman cupped his face and made him look up at her, though his vision had blurred more and it was so hard to see her. Tears filled his eyes and he gagged again, his body trying to vomit, but there wasn’t anything else for him to puke up. “I don’t think this is quite what he wanted, but then again, I’m not getting anything in return for it.” She was cooing it, like she was talking to a small child. 

Despite how much he needed to throw up, again, he felt himself relaxing from her voice. “I… I…” He gagged and dry heaved, hunching back over. “Why??” He managed. 

“I don’t know. He asked, I answered.” She murmured and then she leaned forward, kissing Rodolfo’s forehead. “67 attempts. That’s impressive. You’re trying so hard… It’s okay, you were always destined to fail… You tried your best and that’s what matters.”

Tears rolled down Rodolfo’s face and he started to sob, though it mixed with gags and heaves. God, what was wrong with his body?! He didn’t have anything left to puke up!

“Even my little interferences wouldn’t have worked this time…” She sighed and Rodolfo sobbed, trying hard to keep his body from puking again. “So, I did something a bit more permanent.”

Rodolfo’s body finally stopped having the urge to throw up and he hunched forward again, squeezing his eyes shut. This was hell, this was unbelievably hell. “You’re probably so hungry…” 

Rodolfo was. He was so unbelievably hungry. His stomach was aching. Her voice was gentle as she spoke again. “Eat, my love… When the opportunity comes… just give into it. Gorge yourself… It’s okay… you have my permission…”

Rodolfo sniffled and reached up, wiping at his mouth and looking at the blood on his fingers. She tsked and got out a cloth, gently cleaning his face. Rodolfo keened into the touch, closing his eyes as her cloth swiped over his skin. 

“Not quite clean. But I’ll accept that.” She murmured and then his eyes were opening again as she again cupped his face. “I have to go…”

Rodolfo shook his head, unsure why but he didn’t want her to. “Please don’t, please-”

“I’m sorry, love, but I have to.” She leaned forward and her ice cold lips pressed to his forehead. The action soothed him, completely, and he relaxed. “Goodbye.”

Then, she was gone, as if she’d never came. Rodolfo touched his face and it was clean, though the puddle of his own puke was still there. He got up on shaky legs, hardly able to comprehend what had just happened to him, but unsure he wanted to, anyway. 

Finally, he turned and rushed into the building, after his men. They were clearing out rooms, as they were supposed to so Rodolfo barked orders into the radio. “Clear and then get out!”

“Yes, sir!” Came back and Rodolfo relaxed. 

He helped to clear each room, but mostly he checked on everyone, which was his job regardless. “Commander Vargas, our building is cleared. I’m going to do a sweep and then I’ll reconvene.”

“Be on guard, Rodolfo.”

“I always am.” Rodolfo shook his head when Alejandro just laughed in response. Alright, maybe not. But, he would be, this time. 

The hunger in his stomach was getting harder and harder to ignore, but ignore it, he did. He didn’t need to eat, right now, he needed to clear these rooms. Carefully, he checked in each one of them, pointing his gun, first. 

When he got to the end of a hall, he stopped at a smell. Human, he could immediately tell, but… god, it smelled fantastic. Like asada when he and Alejandro would have the Vaqueros at the ranch. Alejandro was so good at making asada and the smell of it cooking was practically mouth watering. 

Fuck that, it was mouthwatering. Rodolfo was usually the one to cook, but the one thing he left for Alejandro was the asada. 

That sensation came back to Rodolfo and he just melted, breathing in the scent. God, he was starving… He could smell blood and he was so unbelievably hungry. He closed his eyes as he reached the door, stumbling a bit. 

He was so hungry… God, he was so hungry. He was starving, he was so unbelievably hungry. The idea of having a steak and just ripping into it with his teeth was so unbelievably fantastic to him. He could perfectly visualize the sensation. 

He put his hand on the door handle before pushing open the door, the mouth watering scent of meat and blood hitting him full force. He stumbled into the room, breathing hard from just how hungry he was. He remembered a time he’d gotten stuck in the woods and how unbelievably hungry he’d been. 

He had found a dead deer and he remembered being so hungry that he’d just sank his teeth into the meat once it was roasted, even though it was rotten. 

He looked around, smelling the blood coming from a closet, where he saw a pool forming. God, he was so hungry. Eat, my love… You have my permission… 

Rodolfo went to the pool of blood and crouched down, swiping up some of it with his fingers and then he licked the blood off of them, melting. Oh, this was fantastic… Ten times better than any asada Alejandro had ever made…

He stood and practically ripped the closet door open, before his head was swinging back at the sound of a gunshot. 

He gasped, now staring up at the ceiling. His sight didn’t see… couldn’t make his brain move… no way to control his control… 

Focus, unfocus… what was going on? Fuck. He jerked his head back upright, hitting the back of his head and a bullet popped out of the front. He reached up and touched his forehead where he could feel a giant chunk of his skull was missing, though it was already being reformed. 

He blinked and looked down at the bullet in his head, able to see the pink squishy brain matter still attached to it. 

“Oh my god, what the fuck?!” Rodolfo’s head jerked in the direction of the man that was speaking. His button down shirt was soaked in blood and Rodolfo’s mouth was watering again. 

Rodolfo didn’t even bother to give him a response, he was starving. He needed to eat, he needed to eat now. The woman had given him permission and he was taking it. He dropped down and yanked the man’s legs down, half straddling him. 

“Get away from me, you freak!” He screamed and tried to shove Rodolfo off, but Rodolfo just slammed his arms down and put his boots on his wrists. He writhed and continued to scream but Rodolfo ignored him, taking deep breaths. 

“This is going to hurt,” Rodolfo murmured before pressing his fingers between the buttons of the man’s shirt and then digging them in, deeper than his shirt, deeper than his skin. He ignored his screaming and hooked his fingers under the ribs, one hand hooking under the sternum, and he ripped his chest open. 

Buttons flew everywhere and he screamed so loud Rodolfo almost worried someone would hear, but he didn’t care. He was starving. 

He thrust his hand into his chest, digging around until he wrapped his hand around the thrumming beating delicacy he was damn near desperate for. He ripped it out of the man’s chest, his screams turning to gasps that slowed to a stop. Finally, he was shutting the fuck up. 

Rodolfo didn’t even hesitate to sink his teeth into the organ, ripping a chunk out of it. It was fantastic… bloody and squishy and so fucking delicious and he needed more. He continued to bite chunks out of it, hardly stopping to chew before he was swallowing them down, reveling in the sensation of blood running down his throat. 

God, Rodolfo had never in his life actually eaten. He had never truly eaten until this moment, this was fantastic! He wanted more, he needed more, he was still starving!

He ripped flesh from the man’s body, just consuming and ripping it to pieces with his teeth. Blood dripped down his face and he licked what remained on his fingers and he just continued to consume and eat and tear and eat until finally…

He was sated. Full.

Even then, he still licked the blood from his fingers, moaning from how sweet it was. The iron was an amazing taste and he wanted to melt into it, drink until he was throwing it back up. It was practically intoxicating. 

No, it was intoxicating and he was glad to be intoxicated. This was so much better than any tequila or wine he’d ever drank before, it made his stomach warm and his head fuzzy, but it was amazing and he wanted to live in the feeling. 

He touched his forehead, feeling that his skull was fully reformed, he didn’t even feel a scar. Then, he looked around and fully realized what was going on.

He stood, immediately, stumbling back and staring at his hands. Oh god, he’d eaten someone, he’d… he’d eaten someone… Oh god, oh god, oh god.

His radio was making noise and he turned his focus to it. “Rodolfo! Where the fuck are you?!”

“Coming, commander!” Rodolfo quickly said, wiping at his face. He used a cloth to get what he could from his chin so it didn’t look like he’d eaten anything and then swished water from his canteen around in his mouth before spitting it. 

He stared at the body, which was almost unrecognizable, and tried not to start screaming, the images of him just ripping into it and stuffing the flesh down his throat coming back. Oh god… He hunched over, feeling sick again. 

No, no, he didn’t have time for that, Alejandro was going to lose his shit. He quickly turned and left, running out and finding Alejandro.

#Alejandro Vargas #Rodolfo Parra #Alejandro x Rodolfo #Aledolfo #Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare II #Call Of Duty #alejandro cod #rodolfo cod #tw: su1cide #tw: cannibalism #dd:de

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Fourteen

Bucky finds out what it is to be a part of Zola’s experiment, and is marked as Hydra’s property. Prompts fulfilled; - ‘Apocalypse Cult’ – @multifandom-flash (Beehive); - ‘Tattooing Over a Scar’ – Winter Wonderland Bingo @seasonaldelightsbingo ; BLACKOUT! (with alts XD) - “Say Please.” – @fandom-free-bingo (Flight Edition); - ‘Disturbing a Grave’ – @halloweenhorrorbingo; - ‘Exposure’ – @badthingshappenbingo; - ‘Eternal Agony’ – @fnafbingo; “You Broke the Rules. And Now You Gotta Pay.” – @anyfandomdarkbingo. CW: Death of an unknown character, corpses, non-con body modification, sexual assault.

Boards at the bottom. Check it out below, or on AO3 here!

Dividers by @atlasscrumpit

By the time Zola came to see me the following day, I was already sat upright on the edge of my bed, fist curled loosely in my lap.

“Ah, up already, I see!” His tone was upbeat and jovial, but I simply raised my head to stare at him blankly, devoid of any emotion. “I expect you’re excited to get underway with your training.” A simple nod, and I stood, not bothering to point out that it was, in fact, the never-ending ache radiating from tailbone to navel that had kept me awake. “It’s going to take me a short while to make your arm. In the meantime, we have a job for you.” He handed me a chunk of bread, and I bit into it without enthusiasm, the dry wheat clinging to my tongue as I followed him through the halls.

The machine set up before me was distantly familiar, and a spike of fear shot through me at the memory of a pattern of bruises across cheekbone and forehead where the restraints had dug into my skin, holding me fast as convulsions wracked my body.

But this time the seat was occupied by another – one who looked significantly worse than I did after my time in the chair.

“What is this?” I breathed, inching closer uncertainly, taking in the slack jaw and soured complexion, heightened hearing straining for any sign of a heartbeat.

“Another failed experiment,” Zola replied dismissively, waving a hand. “Get him out. The soldiers will show you where to dispose of him.”

I fumbled with the contraption until one of the two soldiers standing guard sighed in frustration, leaning closer to press a button, the deceased man’s head falling forward with macabre reminiscence of a marionette with severed strings. Biting back fury and nausea at touching the cooling skin, I freed his limbs form their loosened shackles and draped him carefully over my shoulder.

Inanimate fingertips sent a shiver through me as they brushed my lower back, swaying with the motion of my steps as I followed my guard down the endless, twisting corridors.

He paused beside a heavy door, and we trembled in unison at the bitterly cold wind that swirled around us when he cracked it open.

“I’m not going out there,” he muttered, eyeing the flakes flowing readily through the gap and picking up a shovel to press it into my hand. “Find a spot. Dig a hole. Drop him in. Make sure you cover it over, else there’ll be wolves and bears and all sorts hanging around. I’d hate to have to find something else to feed them to draw them away,” he added pointedly. I simply nodded, skin erupting in goosebumps as he opened the door wider and pushed me out.

The snow piled into my boots with the first step, freezing my toes and soaking the thin socks I’d been provided with. I struggled on through the knee-high drifts, almost floundering under the uneven weight of my load and the lack of hands available to hold both shovel and corpse.

Perhaps a hundred yards from the facility, I came to a stop beside a rocky outcrop offering a relatively sheltered spot at which to dig. Pausing, I looked up, peering through the swirling snow. Even with my enhanced eyes, I could barely make out any details of the building – it was unlikely I could be seen by anyone attempting to watch me.

Glancing in the other direction, I gazed out over the blank emptiness, a barely-perceptible, soft haze in the distance the only indication of any break in the endless tundra – a copse of trees, perhaps, or the beginning of an attempt at civilization in this frozen wasteland?

I could run.

I might get shot before I get fifty yards, but at least I’d die out here, as a free man. Not in the endless, eternal agony of being their lab rat, their attack dog on a chain.

I took one step away from the outcrop, then another, shivering violently as the snow soaked quickly through my already damp clothes.

I could run.

I could escape this apocalyptic cult. The torture. The abuse.

I could…

My muscles faltered on the third step, then froze entirely on the fourth.

What the Hell is wrong with you? This is your chance! It doesn’t matter if you die out here! It’s better than staying here! Run!

Despite the voice screaming in my head, I couldn’t take another step, my body rigid with fear the further I strayed from my orders.

My eyes strayed to the body still resting on the ground, coated by now with a layer of thick, fluffy flakes.

I… I should bury him, at least. Nobody deserves to be left to the elements and the wildlife like that.

With a soft sigh of relief at having a clear path before me, I picked up the shovel once more, turning to assess the frozen ground obediently.

The hole was just about deep enough when I came across a sight that sent me sprawling from the grave as my stomach churned.

I was experienced enough in life – and in death – to have recognised what lay beneath the frozen ground immediately, and the off-white bone dotted with residual scraps of partially decomposed flesh was tattooed to the inside of my eyelids as I knelt in the snow, retching. My body, so accustomed by now to emptying on command, acquiesced willingly to the rhythmic gagging, the sparse contents of my stomach steaming as it met the sub-zero ground. My fingers curled desperately as I heaved, breaking through powder and frost easily.

There were others.

How many people like these two – people like me?

When my futile retching finally ceased, I dropped quickly back into the freshly dug grave with hardened nerves and a sense of purpose, kneeling carefully to ease a little more dirt away, revealing thin remnants of dark, shoulder-length hair. My eyes closed in pain, and I diverted my face as I tenderly covered the man over once more, shaking my head the distinct similarities, muttering a hushed apology to my fallen comrade for disturbing his hard-won rest.

Shaking violently from cold and horror, my hand was careful as I lifted the body I’d been sent to bury against my chest, letting his temple fall briefly to my shoulder as I knelt once more to settle him on the ground. His head rested not five inches from our predecessor, and I brushed a thumb gently over the bruising on his cheek.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” I whispered softly. I wished I could remember a poem, a profound quote about death to send him on his way peacefully – but the only thing that came to mind was pieces of the Lord’s Prayer, courtesy of Steve’s soft utterances unconsciously invading my mind. It didn’t feel like enough, but it was all I could offer in a stammering, faltering voice, tears staining my cheeks when I eventually stood once more.

I didn’t dare look to the horizon again until my task was complete, fresh snow quickly falling to obscure the disturbed earth.

Only then did I finally glance up once more, finding myself immediately struck once again by an intense, disabling terror as I found that hazy spot on the skyline. But this time I glanced back down, eyes skimming the last remaining signs that I’d ever been here at all.

This is what will happen if I stay here. Will anybody bother to bury me, or will I just lay under the open sky, finding flesh and bone at the mercy of the animals?

My muscles were more willing this time.

Five steps.

Ten.

Fifteen, and my pace increased – first to a lope, then a jog, and then I was sprinting, flying across the ground, malnourished body screaming in protest as I tore over the open tundra, but there was no way in hell I was slowing, not before I was sheltered by the cluster of trees at last identifiable. My feet churned up the powder as I ran, and-

I felt it before the sound registered in my mind.

My legs immediately crumbled beneath me as I yelped, thigh on fire where the bullet had torn through muscle and flesh. The aim was true, bypassing the femoral artery, but that didn’t stop blood from pumping freely onto the snow, staining the pure white with violent red in a macabre echo of the past.

Glancing back, I could see the figures swarming from the facility, moving quickly as they descended upon me as if a storm cloud. My heart pounded in terror, and I attempted to scrabble to my feet – then cried out in shocked pain, raising my hand to touch tentatively at the stinging wound at the top of my ear. Another bullet had grazed the soft skin there, barely breaking the surface – but the intent here was not harm.

No… This is a warning.

I stared at the trees standing stark against the white, finally close enough to distinguish branch from trunk, fingers curling with my grief. I knew I should stand – should force myself forward once more, choosing freedom over captivity in whatever form it came. But the survival instinct within me was a muscle well-honed over recent months, and no matter how hard I fought against myself, I couldn’t force my legs to move in much more than a tremor as I knelt in the snow. My own body simply disobeyed me, choosing longevity by any means.

I didn’t look up as I was dragged back through the snow, staggering and stumbling with a hand under my armpit to keep me going. I’d have simply laid down, but a cattle prod to the ribs made sure I moved forward, body jerking at the voltage shot through me each time I slowed.

The Lieutenant was whistling tunelessly between his teeth when I was released unceremoniously in the middle of his office, legs crumbling beneath me from cold, blood loss and exhaustion. I hardly dared raise my eyes, but he said nothing as I looked to him fearfully, his eyes still on the rifle in his hands as he wiped it down.

“You were a sniper too, once upon a time,” he noted softly, and I trembled ever more at the sound of his voice, stomach clenching in anticipation of punishment as I nodded silently. “Before Hydra, I was a sniper. And then I came here. Now I only shoot wolves, for fun. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to keep my skills sharp, you understand.” He glanced at me at last, his smile almost apologetic as he jerked his head by way of indication. “I’ll clean that up for you. Lie down.”

Moving where he directed me, I shivered with cold and fear, wincing in pain as my back pressed to frigid metal and he moved closer. My feet, wrist and throat were secured beneath heavy steel, earning me another sorry grin. “Can’t have you wriggling around too much. I might end up hitting something important! I’d so hate for you to lose your leg, too…”

I winced, eyes closing automatically as he bent over me, gulping in air at the feeling of scissors slicing through the thin, drenched fabric of my pants. He hummed under his breath as he exposed my wound, blood still flowing freely from the hole in my thigh, the gory stickiness pooling beneath me and filling the air with the scent of dirty pennies as he stepped back. The sound of his small stack of drawers containing his tools rattling as he searched through them made my skin crawl, and I jerked in surprise at a hand on my knee, lids snapping open despite myself to find him peering at the bullet wound. “A clean shot,” he murmured, gently poking at the skin around the macabre sight. “In and out. You’ll be fine – I’ll just stitch you up, and you’ll be on your way.” I nodded stiffly, mistrustful, and he shot me a broad grin. “Didn’t anybody teach you any manners? Say please.”

“Please,” I whispered immediately, flicking my gaze to the ceiling, desperately wishing I could leave my body. “Please, Sir.”

With a quiet chuckle of delight, he began, and I clenched my teeth minutely at the feel of needle passing through skin, knitting together the ragged edges of my wound in a silence punctuated only by the stomach-churning sounds of squelching and sticking produced by parts of me not normally exposed to the outside world.

It took only a matter of minutes for him to secure the site – albeit only at a surface level and in the most basic way possible, leaving my body to do most of the hard work. I blinked in surprise when he released my bindings, sitting up with a soft utterance of gratitude, uncertainty and distrust heavy as I glanced at him.

It was when I went to move to my feet that his hand found my chest, his smile turning just a little cold around the edges. “That was only the exit would, Asset. I need to stitch up the back, too. Lie down on your chest, if you would.”

I could feel my heart hammering as I obeyed weakly, the trials of the day leaving me in no position to fight. Corpses flickered before my eyes, haunting me as my body met the table once more and my already-cut pants were shredded once more, the material pooling uselessly either side of my leg. His hand was high on my thigh, skirting the underpants I’d be given. The touch was almost delicate, fingertips skimming gently under the very edge of the material. His grip tightened minutely to pull the skin taut, earning a hiss of pain that he quietly shushed away. He hummed under his breath as he slowly stitched me up, fingers brushing between my thighs to swipe away the blood.

The hand below my ass relaxed as the tugging stopped, thumb brushing tenderly over my skin. “Good. All done…”

I nodded once more, eyes focused on the long window opposite, the winter sun already beginning to set after a few short hours of daylight. My muscles twitched, ready to move, to be out of this position of vulnerability – but neither his hands nor the restraints lifted. “… Sir?” I breathed, hardly daring to speak as he continued to caress my leg.

“You broke the rules,” he purred, a smile in his voice, “and now you gotta pay.”

My eyes closed in a flinch, jaw clenched with resigned terror. I wished more than anything that I could leave my body – just come back when this was over. This punishment, this life…

But my mind stayed firmly where it was, focused on his hand on my thigh, and the touch of metal to skin. The sound of scissors closing slowly, cold air breathing over my exposed ass, set my stomach churning – a feeling that only intensified as the pointed edge pricked the skin at the base of my spine as he began to methodically remove my shirt.

His free hand trailed almost tenderly over waist, keeping pace with the first until my entire back exposed, the sleeve still wrapped around my arm offering very little comfort in my nudity.

Then he was gone, stepping away from the table seeking unknown instructions of torture. The restraint around my neck held my head fast, no matter how I wriggled and strained, offering no insight into the punishment I was about to receive.

A violent buzzing, intermittent, almost tentative, gave me pause, the pitch wavering minutely as the Lieutenant whistled tunelessly through his teeth. I distantly recognized the sound – there was a sense of faint familiarity, of something passed by on occasion, but never personally pertinent.

It wasn’t until his hand rested lightly on my back and the sharp, dragging pain began that the image of a tattoo parlour Steve and I had walked past frequently flickered behind my eyelids, sending them snapping open in shock.

A tattoo?

… Why?

I dared not ask the question aloud, settling instead into the mild discomfort of the needles between my shoulder blades; the pain was minimal compared to what I was used to, and I’d take his defacing my skin over torture any day.

After all, I was already a monster – there was nothing he could stain me with that could make it any worse.

He’d finished the work with a line that brushed against one of the puckered, tactile scars trailing away from my shoulder. The action caused searing pain to extend along fingers that no longer existed, and I clamped my jaw tighter, refusing to utter a sound at the unexpected intensity.

It was a relief when he stopped, a clammy sweat gathering beneath me at the discomfort. He ran a fingertip over the stinging skin of my back, eliciting a minute wince as he hummed contentedly. “Beautiful… Would you like to see?”

I struggled briefly, desperately trying to figure out which answer was the correct one – which would prevent further punishment. Eventually, stiffly, I nodded, and he stepped into my eyeline as his face broke into a grin. With the edge of something predatory tugging at his lips, he squatted close to my face, mint-infused breath washing over my skin, mingling with the scent of his bodywash and the odour of blood and ink.

He shouldn’t smell good, I noted abruptly, the bizarre thought taking me by surprise. He shouldn’t smell… Pleasant. Not this monster. It’s not right.

He angled a hand mirror over us, showing a quick flash of a delighted gaze and sick pleasure, before revealing the words imprinted across my shoulders.

Hail HYDRA.

Indelible, forever tarnishing my skin, marking me as one of them. As their attack dog. As their Asset.

I swallowed dryly, my stomach churning, as he chuckled softly, lips skimming over my cheek with something close to affection.

“Maybe now you won’t forget who you belong to.”

I could only nod weakly, terrified to look away before I was told to, but eventually he lowered the mirror and my eyes squeezed closed briefly.

I was wrong.

He unshackled me, but I didn’t move.

This was it.

This was the last thing.

I can’t fight anymore.

He hummed in surprise and delight, fingertips trailing over my spine. “So it seems you can learn… Good boy. Roll.”

I obeyed immediately, the metal too warm to soothe the gentle burn of my skin and slick with my sweat. He didn’t bother to resecure me, trusting in my blind obedience. Distantly, I realised that we were alone in the room; I’d never have a better opportunity than this. But I couldn’t even pretend to consider moving. I couldn’t contemplate putting myself into a position of yet another punishment for a slim chance of freedom. It isn’t worth it. He beamed at me, resting a hand gently on my chest. “Look at that! So good. Perhaps you may deserve a reward… Would you like that?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied immediately, my voice soft and robotic. I had no idea what this ‘reward’ would be, but I didn’t have any capacity left to give anything other than the answer I thought he’d prefer. The smile softened, and his hand travelled down slowly, resting briefly on my abdomen as he leant closer.

My mind was entirely blank when he kissed me, tongue trailing gently over my lower lip, prompting my mouth to open to grant him access. It wasn’t until his teeth tugged tenderly that his fingers his fingers wrapped around my length, caressing slowly. Confusion enveloped me at his gentle touch, the way his free hand cupped my jaw to hold me closer. The combination of the firm pressure of his lips on mine and the expert ministrations on my cock sent spikes of shameful arousal through my body, colouring my cheeks as I began to react to him. “You like that, hm?” he breathed, fingers moving a little more firmly, and I offered an obedient nod.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmured, repulsed and humiliated that the statement wasn’t entirely untrue. He purred with delight at my words and my stiffening member, his hand wrapping more thoroughly around me. To my horror, I let out a soft, breathless whine, earning a soft chuckle, his hips pressing lightly against my side to demonstrate his own arousal.

“That’s it. Just relax. Do you see, Asset? When you’re bad, you will be punished. When you’re good, and obey orders… I can be merciful.”

Nausea cramped my stomach as he kissed me again, tongue brushing mine and making me tremble.

At least when he raped me it was simple.

There was no confusion in violent violation, in fighting and wishing it to be over.

But this… The way my body stirred and reacted to a touch that felt almost loving.

In another time, another situation with another man, I could very easily love this feeling of someone else’s fingers wrapped around my length, lips trailing rapturously over my throat – if not for this specific time, this specific situation with this specific man.

But I couldn’t help the way my hips twitched and my back arched, breath coming in desperate, sharp pants as I inched towards the inevitable conclusion I could feel building under my skin. He seemed to notice my increasing desperation, groaning quietly and working me harder, mouth shifting against my skin. “You’re doing so well, Asset. Almost there – let me here you.”

I whimpered through my teeth – too afraid to disobey, reluctant to follow his orders easily. But a sharp nip of his teeth on my pulse and the steadily increasing speed of his hand on me made me cry out breathlessly, hips jerking with frantic need as I came without warning.

By the time I’d finished twitching, my chest coated with my own seed, my face was burning with shame and horror, humiliation cloying in my throat.

“Such a good boy,” he crooned, kissing my cheek softly. “Hail Hydra.”

His eyes shifted to me expectantly as I hesitated, and I swallowed around the lump in my throat, lowering my gaze. “Hail Hydra,” I breathed, the ink across my shoulders burning.

#fanfiction #mine #fandom: marvel #writers on tumblr #writing bingo #rating: e #whump #dd:de #winter wonderland bingo #seasonal delights bingo #halloweenhorrorbingo #bad things happen bingo #fandom free bingo #fandom free bingo: frosty edition #multifandom flash bingo #five nights at freddy's bingo #fnaf bingo #any fandom dark bingo

[cofhades]

#dd:de but like literally #hibiki wataru #my art #illustration #ensemble stars #enstars #ansuta #あんスタ #fine enstars #cw dead animal

[moth-bells]

I watched a movie last night that hit me so close to home with my own trauma that Ive been frantically trying to make ocs based off the main characters bc one movie was not enough I need to be able to tear them apart with my own hands

#benji rambles #for anyone concerned it was Mysterious Skin #and I recommend the movie but god its so fucked in a way thats so cathartic if youve been there #its very dark #heed any warnings you see for them #really treat is as dd:de #if you think its bad its so much worse than you think

[rayshippouuchiha]

AO3 Status Twitter account posted a video of Bob Ross as compensation for people losing their bedtime stories and the comments are absolutely hilarious. Like, half of them are “You’re doing amazing sweetie, keep up the good work,” and the other half is (and I quote) “BOB ROSS CANT READ ME DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT”. The duality of man.

See now all I can think about is Bob Ross sitting in a nice plush armchair in front of a fireplace with a cup of tea on a side table calmly reading out DD:DE fic in a soothing voice all "oh this actually has a Vore tag, missed that the first time, what a happy little accident"

#RayRambles

[daenystheedreamer]

Theonjon has the potential to be absolutely insane and unhinged. Like someone is gonna die

see i can understand it theoretically ive discussed this with trusted mutuals. like theon goes to the wall au i can see them having hatesex. but idk i think jon just genuinely does not respect theon whatsoever and it'd be too wrapped up in theon's insanity about dead robb. so i guess i agree with you in that it would be insane and unhinged i just dont think they could be in a capital r Relationship. they'd be borderline dd:de hatefucking theon-imagining-robb and jon punishing theon and himself. the guilt would be great.

#anon this conversation between us feels like smoking a cigarette after a party with an acquaintance you only kinda know #and it being lifechanging and very YA coming of age novel #ask #anonymous #greysnow #i think? snowjoy is wayyyy better come on guys. then again. Throbb. when we could have had starkjoy

[prpfs]

hi!! 🦀 i (23f) am looking for a partner who’d be interesting in creating a large a song of ice and fire (asoiaf) / game of thrones / house of the dragon based world with me. rather then writing canon characters, we could use the pre-existing houses and world and make ocs for it. please be okay with writing multiple genders, pairings (fxf. fxm, mxm, etc) and doing multiple ships (not every dynamic needs to be a ship ofc!! love familial and friends too). as this is asoiaf inspired, i’d prefer someone who’s comfortable with the dd:de content that appears in the series. if you’d be interested then throw a like on this and i’ll reach out.

Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!

#a song of ice and fire roleplay #a song of ice and fire rp #fandom roleplay #fandom rp #oc x oc #dead dove

[darkdoverpseeker]

cause its still a fresh ask, asoiaf anon please resend with dove emote since you mentioned dd:de content!

#admin spitty

[artbybrutus]

You know what? I like you *shows you my swap au of the 3rd life smp*

This au is one of two I created in the span of 5 minutes so I hope you enjoy!!! Don't be shy to ask anything if interested in this au!!!!

REBLOGS OVER LIKES

#3rd life smp #3rd life fanart #swap au #3rd life swap au #Grian #Goodtimeswithscar #gtws #mcyt #mcyt fanart #fanart #art #skull #alternative universe #3rd life grian #3rd life scar #please let me know what you think in the tags i love reading them #reblogs over likes #3rdlife #3rdlifesmp #I also just like drawing grian in a darker light *coughs in many DD:DE aus*

[alicehattera03]

my ranking of tropes!!

As you may know- I uh- I write(fanfics) lol should I say I’m a writer?? Am I even a writer I- *existential crisis continues*

Well, anyways!! I decided to rank popular fanfic tropes cause why not?! (Everything you read from here on out is my opinion so no fighting!!!!!)

For S tier!! Of course, angst was gonna be a tippy top choice for me, so is hurt/comfort(although I suck at writing the comfort part lmfao but reading comfort? YES), fix it fics are amazing like the time I needed to fix an ending of a movie that I came home from crying cause like WTF and I had to write a new ending, dark is well known cause well, DD:DE anyone?!, and canon divergence is a sure thing cause I mean, it’s AU material isn’t it??? and infamous ABO, damn, idk but y’all but that shit good when done right cause MMMMM hell to the yes for inner wolves and ranks, with the bite marks and stuff and lemme say alpha/alpha(unconventional ABO pairs and fics like with alpha/beta are ok too, but ofc I love alpha/omega as well) be doing things to my heart like you wouldn’t believe WOW. 

Y’kno what they say, canon material=free real estate. 

Tier A!! : surprisingly major character death is here instead of S tier but it’s because I like writing it(With all that angsty goodness) but I don’t really like reading it in other fics(cause I don’t wanna cry uwah), time loop is fun to write but not really to read(watched one too many movies with it and it was ruined for me in the long run)...established relationship is so good because I don’t have to worry about anything(unless one or both die then mayday mayday fuck we gotta problem), mutual pining is delicious lemme scoop it all up, unhappy endings are angsty so I love them and yet cry(so I may skip according to my mood), the AU’s are like beautiful when done the way I like em(opinions opinions), gen fics are surprisingly good all by themselves as long as you read the tags/summary you’ll be good to go! 

Tier B: arranged marriage is like the cherry on ice cream you can like it or hate it but it’s there and it isn’t that bad or anything to worry about, honestly if you have to fuck or die I think realistically we’d choose to fuck cause who wants to die if you can live? the AU’s ahhh chef’s kiss. Enemies/friends to lovers, after recently liking the childhood friends trope I was like this IS IT I love the dynamics basically, drunken confessions seem like a thing in real life too so I like it, fluff is cute to read but not to write cause I can never write it without getting angsty ahh maybe I should work on that for the new year??? (shhh wip in progress for new fandom ehe but still quite angsty oh noooo lmao)

Tier C: the AUs are uh not the worst but not the best... I used to like them a lot more but now I could live without them if I had to, amnesia is either frustrating or done really well, “there was only one bed” oh the horror ahahaha, warmth in someone’s arms? Hell yea, sign me the fuck up for that MMMM. Crack? Sure, I could get with the program. Pwp/sex pollen pretty much the same thing lmfao I can sit through it but it has to have a little bit of plot, first kiss usually cute and fluffy which I like reading but somehow can never write out lol the pains of being an angst writer instead of a fluff writer.. miscommunication is either super annoying to read cause they run circles around each other OR there is no or, it’s just awkward for me..I like healthy communication...

Tier D: in short, I hate children in fics and IRL...like the screaming tiny tots that can’t really talk..so yeah that and pregnancy whether it’s mpreg or not is probably out for me, crossovers..if it can make sense and I like both fandoms and there’s no badly written Oc’s...I can take it..body swap on the other hand? No. We keep our own bodies in this household thank you very much. Fake relationship is built on lies, it’s just hard for me to get through them unless it’s good and they work it out well between each other. The fairytale au by itself is alright but tbh time periods and the settings don’t match more than half the time which makes it hard for me to get into it..I like accuracy..coffee shop is..unrealistic half the time..although that could make people get into it, it’s just not for me. Missing/behind the scenes stuff are GREAT when done well, like a sneak peek of “What if” things. 

Now. Love triangles. Your may be thinking- a whole new paragraph for this? Yes. I HATE THEM WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEINGGGGG YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE PAIN I GO THROUGH WHEN FINDING OUT IT HASN’T BEEN TAGGED PROPERLY IN A FIC. If two people like the same person and the person likes them both back, don’t make the person choose. It hurts both parties. If the two people that like said person are die hard enemies, then ok fine, choose away, but ya know we(all genders included, I’m sure) got cough holes cough for a reason- just saying..basically I’d like love triangles to go to hell and make way for the queen: threesomes. 

LOL anyways, that was my lengthy ass ranking, lemme know if you want to see more of these(I might do a husbando/wifeu ranking in the future ahhh all my fandoms will end up revealing themselves ahaha) And you are most certainly VERY welcome to comment below what fandoms you think I’m in/might like, and I’ll comment back ofc ^^ Let’s be multi-fandom together ahaha

#fanfic #a03 fic #a03 fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 stuff #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanfic writing #fanfiction writer #trope talk #fanfic trope #trope time #trope

[callsign-bunnie]

It’s Horror Night

Alright! I am in the mood to write horror! 

Send me a prompt for a ship or the entire crew or just one character!

Can be as tame as them telling a ghost story in the woods, can get horribly fucked up! I’m not sleeping tonight so lay it on me! I’ll take putting the characters in other Horror Franchises, or you can come up with original prompts, IDC!

Even if you think it is horrible and fucked up, send it anyway! My limits are a lot grayer, tonight.

Also, I’ll take submissions, too, if you’ve got your own thing written!

To clarify how fucked up I am willing to get: Will write DD:DE, will write monsterfucker/noncon

My hard limits: Body horror, main character death

AGAIN IF YOU ARE NOT SURE, SEND IT ANYWAY

We’re working on a rainbow system! Purple is baby horror, Blue is ghost stories, Green is stalker romance/slasher horror, and so on and so forth until we reach red.

The tag will be Bunnie’s horror night and then the color if you want to block it!

Examples:

Purple: Ruby Gloom Blue: Goosebumps Green: You (TV Show), Friday the 13th Yellow: IT Orange: Saw Red: Human Centipede

#Alejandro Vargas #Rodolfo Parra #Alejandro x Rodolfo #Aledolfo #Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare II #Call Of Duty #Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #John Price #Kyle Gaz Garrick #Phillip Graves #Valeria Garza #Farah Karim #Alex Keller #Kate Laswell #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare II #Gary Roach Sanderson #Gaz Cod #Alex COD #Gaz x Alex #Alex x Gaz #call of duty modern warfare #Price COD #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Eleven

Bucky gets to his new home, and is treated with surprising tenderness- until he isn't. Prompts fulfilled; - 'If I Wanted You Dead' and 'Wants a Prize for Basic Decency' - @multifandom-flash (Double); - 'It's Okay to Cry' - Multifandom Flash (Dozen); - 'Ghosts Hide Better When It's Snowing' - Winter Wonderland Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo); - 'Blizzard' - Winter Wonderland Bingo; - 'Made a Slave' - Multifandom Flash (Beehive). CW: Violence, slavery, implied risk to life.

Divider by @firefly-graphics! Read the full chapter below, or on AO3 here. Boards at the bottom!

The truck ride eventually became a flight at a private, unspectacular airfield – the plane so small and rickety that a lesser man would have been inconsolable. A distant part of my brain absently wondered where we were going, but I was so focused on the feeling soaking back into bones that I barely cared.

If they keep up the heat, they can do what they like.

I hadn’t been truly warm in longer than I could remember. The room I had been moved to had been marginally less frigid, but I’d still never truly thawed out – but sat with my hands cuffed together in the back of a seven-passenger plane, I had my head resting against the back of the seat, eyes closed with pleasure at the returning sensation in my skin.

But there was a definite downside to being able to feel my body again.

The plane hit another air pocket, the turbulence shaking the craft ominously, and I winced.

“Nervous flier?” the Lieutenant asked, smirking when I opened an eye an inch to consider him.

“No, Sir,” I replied softly, raising my head to position myself more respectfully. “Not at all.”

“You winced.” When I only nodded, he frowned, turning more fully to face me. “Why?”

I flexed my fingers thoughtfully, taking a moment before responding, hissing quietly at the stiffness. “I… I heal quickly now. I’m not sure why. I broke many bones under the doctor, and they healed quickly, though most did not heal correctly. I didn’t notice too much with the cold, but now…” I grimaced minutely, watching the bones of my hand shift in unnatural ways in response to the pull of tendons and muscles.

He nodded once, taking a long drag from a cigar, considering me quietly. “We’ll clean you up, Asset. Don’t you worry.” I hesitated nervously, and he grinned again, wide and quietly alarming. “If I wanted you dead, Soldat, you already would be. It’s in our vested interests to keep you alive. There’ll be no mindless torture here.”

The look on his face – something akin to pride – implied he felt he was owed some form of prize for his basic decency; with how I’d been treated since my capture so far, I’d be likely to give him one, if I had any possessions of my own left. Even the boots now encasing my feet had never been my own, and the uniform I found myself clad in was HYDRA black, a skull with octopus legs adorning the cuffs.

I never thought I’d so miss the standard army greens.

That thought had me longing, lost in thoughts of the streets of Brooklyn, of the pancakes on Sunday that my mother used to scrape all week to afford, of running wild with Steve and trying to keep him safe despite his boldness-

But the Lieutenant was still staring at me, clearly waiting for a response, an expression of gratitude.

“Thank you, Sir,” I replied quickly, ducking my head graciously. “I-I’m very pleased to hear that.”

“You will be of great use to us, Asset,” he murmured as he settled back into his seat, steel eyes finally moving away from me. “You have a very important future.”

His words resounded ominously around my head as he stared aimlessly at the clouds passing by the window, a sense of profound fear settling in my chest.

What could this Soviet organisation possibly have planned for me?

I was bundled off the plane and onto the back of a snowmobile, grasping tight to the handle behind me – as much as he seemed far less vicious than the last man who seemed to hold my life in his hands, I wasn’t inclined to touch onto anyone right now, especially in a somewhat intimate manner.

The white wasteland was seemingly endless around us, stretching as far as I could see as we hurtled over it, the line between land and sky blurred.

I almost didn’t notice the gradually increasing disruptions to the landscape; beginning as small rocks, we were soon weaving between boulders as large as myself, dark and ragged against an eternal white.

We began to slow, and I looked around, brow furrowing. “We’re- there’s nothing here?”

The Lieutenant turned his head to glance at me from the corner of his eye as he raised his goggles, frowning minutely. “No HYDRA operation would be so easily found.” He climbed from the vehicle, shrugging a holdall over his back. The bag had appeared with him as he first joined us in the truck, presumably having been found in the alpine compound, but I had no idea what it held – only that it appeared to be quite light, given the ease with which he maneuvered it.

I fell into step behind him silently, my gaze automatically scanning for any possibility of escape. While the Lieutenant seemed noticeably kinder than the doctor, I still harboured a deep concern about what exactly they had in store for me. They had seemingly hunted me quite avidly, and their interest in my survival was somewhat ominous.

He lead the way to a heavy door nestled within a rocky outcrop, guiding me silently into a bleak corridor, several soldiers following behind. I was hyperaware of the guns at my back, silent and warning despite their apparently relaxed nature; I knew these men would not hesitate to take me out if they thought I was a risk.

The building descended and twisted in a multitude of ways, and I was hopelessly lost before we finally came to a halt. The soldiers marched on at a barked word from their Lieutenant, never even glancing my way as they passed by. Lebedev’s eyes turned to me, showing no emotion as he offered me a toothy smile.

“This is your room. This is where you will be unless otherwise instructed.”

His palm pressed to the heavy metal door, and I swallowed dryly at the thick window in the top of the door, a small hatch below. It was far too familiar, far too similar to the one I’d been kicked and dragged through for the last several months for my comfort. I could only nod, fear seizing my throat, as he slid back the bolt.

No opportunity to wander if I ever wanted to, then. A prisoner. Again.

He led me inside, and my relief was palpable at the somewhat-comfortable temperature, the sight of an actual bed – albeit with a metal frame, but the mattress was more than a thin pad, at least – and a threadbare carpet on the floor, in place of cold stone.

I looked around in surprise, and he nodded me forward, inviting me to explore the space. My fingers trailed gently over the sheets, the idea of wrapping myself up and burrowing between them offering me some modicum of comfort. Hand flexing automatically, I grimaced minutely at the ache in my bones, turning back to the Lieutenant to find his gaze still on me. “I- Thank you, Sir,” I stammered quickly as his eyes narrowed minutely, relief flooding my body when he relaxed.

“We’ll sort your bones before we let you get situated. You’ll be more comfortable.”

The pain of having half my bones broken and reset was agonising, strapped down to a table and staring into a bright light as one finger after another were snapped and realigned.

“I’m sorry,” the Lieutenant murmured with a thin smile, leaning into my eyeline. “We’d give you anaesthetic, but with your metabolism, you’d burn it off before you ever felt the effects, you see.” His smile grew a little wider as I winced when my wrist was snapped back. It took a high degree of effort to break my bones, my entire body jerking in the process, and the straps around my body chafed against my once-more bare skin. “It’s okay to cry,” he murmured soothingly, an unidentifiable edge to his voice that send a tremble down my spine. The feeling of my bones being manipulated had brought tears to my eyes, but I was blinking them back fiercely, refusing to let a single one fall in front of these people. His hand gently smoothed over my hair, and the surprise made my eyes widen, a single tear trailing down my cheek, eliciting a grin from the Lieutenant as he brushed it away with his thumb. “See? It’s okay. Nobody will judge you.”

The men around me grew still for a heartbeat, their anxiety palpable. Something about the look in his gaze made my stomach contract, nausea flooding through me for reasons I couldn’t quite identify. He seemed nice enough, but something felt amiss.

By the time my restraints were undone, I was aching in new ways, but feeling far more aligned than I had in a while, the breaks already starting to heal in more natural positions. I sat up slowly, grimacing, flexing my fingers experimentally with the eyes of the room on me. “It… Feels better. Thank you.” I spoke tentatively, still distrusting their motivation, gaze on my hands as I tested their movement. The Lieutenant nodded and he jerked his head at me, gesturing for me to follow him, and I got nervously to my feet as sweat pooled in my palms.

What now?

I was led into a room with enormous windows, overhanging an ominous cliff and with a view further than I could see through the swirling snow that had begun to fall while they worked on me. I shivered as the Lieutenant shut the door behind us, and he smiled tightly as he circled around to the front of me.

“You’re probably wondering what we intend to do with you, yes?”

“I… Yes, Sir…” I admitted quietly, my voice shaking minutely with nerves. This room felt too large, and I was too vulnerable, my nudity and tender extremities exposing my every weakness. The blizzard raged on through the glass, battering against the barrier in a furious attempt to overtake the warm room, and I thought briefly of the winter camo I’d seen the Soviet soldiers equipped with in battles further north.

 “You are the result of Arnim Zola’s experimentation,” he began, circling me slowly. I watched him briefly before moving my gaze to the snowstorm, refusing to appear perturbed despite my vulnerability; there was only the two of us here. If it came to blows, I would win – even if I would never escape this compound alive afterwards. “During your time in Austria, Zola tested his own serum on you. And a few others, but they died before they could be of use.” Another wolfish grin, and my muscles contracted instinctively, barely biting back a growl at his dismissive tone.

They were my brothers.

He raised an eyebrow at my tightened posture, and I forced myself to relax, though my tongue still pressed to the roof of my mouth in an effort not to snap. “When you were liberated by the so-called Captain America, we-” The snark in his voice had made an irrepressible scoff rise in my throat, and his head jerked around as he paused, fixing his steel eyes on me. “Is there a problem?”

“Captain America is twice – no, ten times the man you will ever be. You’d be lucky to-” My words died in my throat as his palm found my cheek, my skin stinging at the impact as my eyes widened in surprise.

“Captain America is a stain upon this world. The Americans do not deserve such power. But worry not, we plan to eradicate him before long.” I hissed and moved closer, fingers clenching into a fist by my side, but he simply raised an eyebrow, stepping back a half-inch to aim his gun at my chest. “Rein yourself in, Asset. You are valuable, yes. But we have succeeded once before, and we could succeed again. You are not irreplaceable, and I will not hesitate to put you down if I need to.” I took a slow step backwards at the seriousness in his eyes, my will and resistance still shaken by my time in captivity. “That’s a good boy. Get on your knees.”

I hesitated, and his hand found my hair, roughly forcing me to kneel until my palm hit the floor. “We will not mindlessly torture you here. But you will obey, or you will be punished.” He leaned over me, his voice soft as he whispered in my ear. “And believe me – I can hurt you far more than the doctor. I know all about you, Asset. I know exactly how far I can push you without doing permanent damage, and I am more than willing to utilise that knowledge to its fullest extent at the slightest provocation.”

I swallowed dryly, fury and humiliation making my muscles tremble.

Decision time. Fight, or forfeit.

I thought of the countless winding corridors and endless armed men, and a single tear dropped to the concrete behind my hands. Before all this – and even at the start of my original captivity – I’d have tried to fight, choosing death over servitude.

But now… I knew how to play this game. I knew how to survive, even if I was barely alive. I could hope that one day this would be over.

Steve wouldn’t leave me here. One day he’d find out I was alive, and he’d come for me. I just had to survive in the meantime.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmured to the ground, soft and broken.

He scoffed softly, hand tanging in my hair, pulling me upright on my knees to meet his eyes. “There. Was that so hard?” He moved to a low table, humming under his breath as he fiddled with unseen items, but I kept my gaze forward, staring with unfocused eyes into the swirling, swaying white. “There’s something you should understand. Are you listening?” He moved to squat in front of me as I nodded, drawing my eye to his. “James Barnes has been dead since the moment HYDRA serum entered your veins. His animated corpse just took a little while to catch up. But that fall from the train made certain his demise.” His hand grasped my chin roughly, a vicious smile on his face. “You are the Asset. The Winter Soldier. A ghost, a spectre… An assassin, one day, when we have you trained. The first of many,” he added, a genuine edge to his smile, seemingly proud of this idea. My gaze flicked back to the snow, thinking again of those Soviet soldiers in their white camouflage.

Ghosts hide better in the snow.

His fingers shifted to my throat, pushing my head back. I winced with realisation as heavy metal latched around my neck, blindly staring at the plain ceiling, wondering distantly what had happened to my life. I used to live a comparably luxurious life, cock of the walk back in Brooklyn, hanging around with Stevie and not having my life threatened on a daily basis. Now… I was collared and naked, knelt before this man who intended to use me as a slave.

I had to survive this. No matter how hard it was. No matter how much I wanted to die.

I had to survive this.

#mine #fanfiction #fandom: marvel #writers on tumblr #writing bingo #rating: e #dd:de #multifandom flash bingo #winter wonderland bingo #seasonal delights bingo #hail hydra #hydra trash party

[xharzo]

Convincing myself to click a DD:DE to see if I would like it, or if it would revolt my stomach.

#for now the ones I have clicked out I just found them boring.

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Multitudes Chapter Two - ... And Her Retribution.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the tags, and proceed with caution. Disclaimer - this work is a reflection of our own experiences with negative self-image, self-harm, eating disorders, and suicidal ideation. It is not a portrayal of any other individual's experiences and should not be taken as such. Content Warning:  ED thoughts, self-injury, poor self-care, seduction as avoidance (attempted).

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! This snazzy divider comes from @firefly-graphics and I love it <3

<- Previous Chapter (1/72) Next Chapter (3/72) ->

I was barely cognisant of my surroundings as my limp body was carried across the terrain, Clint’s attempts at cradling my injured frame somewhat impeded by the directness of his route – the ground underfoot became uneven within the forest, and I whimpered at every minuscule jolt, shockwaves coursing through my bones to settle in my steadily pulsating wrist.

“You’re gonna be ok, Nat. You’re… You’re just tired. A bit of a tumble, but you’ll be ok. We’ll get you back, have Tony – or probably Bruce, actually – take a look at you, and-”

I shook my head vehemently, finally beginning to struggle in his grasp, my exhausted body driven by fear. He had to pause then, wrangling with my flailing limbs, but despite his best efforts I managed to break free, stumbling to my feet and away from his outstretched hands. “Nat, we really need to get you back. You had a fall- Your wrist might be broken- Your heart rate was-”

I shook my head once more, narrowing my eyes toward him. Stop. Go away, I signed angrily, as best as the steadily increasing pain in my arm permitted, while he continued to stumble over his words as I stumbled over the roots beneath my feet. He hesitated, mouth closing with an audible click, his hands retracting.

I’m worried about you, he offered, a sad smile on his face. Not just the usual amount. I’m really worried about you.

There’s nothing to worry about, I countered stubbornly, flinching at the movement. He simply raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between the rapid swelling of my wrist, the still-beeping fitness tracker, and the free space in my leather suit.

Please, Nat, he replied, using his sign name for me – a combination of ‘spider’ and ‘love’ – and I knew then that I had lost, lowering myself to the dirt with a tired sob.

They’ll never take you back now.

My quivering body was once more in Clint’s arms as I entered the medical lab, the fingers of my pain-free hand wrapped tightly in his collar, the other cradled uselessly against my chest.

He propped me on the bed, and I reached up as I released him, delicately removing one hearing aid. He knew the drill – no words. An invasive motion for anyone but the two of us, but Clint had told me time and again that he loved it when I did it. He knew I understood just how exhausting it was sometimes to have to live in a hearing, verbal world, and he welcomed the reprieve as much as I did.

He removed the other on his own, eyes darting once more to my injured wrist with a sympathetic grimace. I simply curled onto my side, beaten and broken, awaiting my judgement – my damnation.

I must have dozed off, because my eyes snapped open to the silent, passionate exchange between the doctor and the archer.

-sick, Clint. She needs help. I can patch her up, but that won’t mend what’s broken, Bruce argued, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

Broken.

She’s not broken, Clint argued, and my heart twinged with gratitude. Bruce simply scowled, waving away the protest. You know my ASL isn’t perfect, and you know what I mean. She needs more than just physical care, and I can’t do that.

Clint met his gaze steadily, furiously, before jerking his thumbs away from his body in a solitary argument, leaving no room for disagreement. Try.

I waved my good hand to get their attention, both pairs of eyes turning on me, and I had to resist the urge to run. I don’t need help. I just need to get this wrist seen to.

Both aquamarine and mahogany turned sympathetic, each owner moving closer in their turn.

Nat-

‘Spider’ only; there was no love here.

-you’re dangerously underweight. I can tell you that without even putting you on a scale. I don’t doubt that your bloods are a mess, too. You passed out through overexertion – the injury is just a symptom. You’re pushing yourself too hard. The doctor lacked the fluidity Clint had when he signed, and I glanced at the archer, a teasing brow raising itself without my input, but he remained impassive.

I just got too hot, and I think I have a bug, or something. It’s fine. I’m fine, I argued after a moment, when my attempt to lighten the mood fell flat.

Another shared glance, and Clint sat by my feet, one hand finding my calf for a heartbeat. Nat, I don’t remember the last time I saw you eat a full meal. Neither does Bruce. And I bet if we asked the others-

I sat upright at that, shaking my head vehemently, and Bruce waved a hand in my direction. You see? That, right there, tells us everything we need to know. That fear – that’s an eating disorder.

Clint blinked at me dumbly for a moment, then reached out, the back of his fingers lightly grazing the soft fat of my jawline. “What are we supposed to do?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching mine. I simply stared in response – not once, ever, had Clint used words when I’d asked him not to.

Fucking traitor.

“She needs more than I can give her,” Bruce answered steadily, moving into my partner’s eyeline. “She needs examination and treatment by someone experienced in these things.”

Don’t you fucking dare.

“That can’t be you? You’re sure?” Clint clarified, his gaze still on mine. From the corner of my eye, I saw Bruce shrug helplessly.

“I guess I could do the initial assessment – see how bad things have gotten. But I won’t attempt care if I don’t think I can help. I won’t risk making her worse, Clint; you, of all people, should be able to understand that.”

He nodded once, still watching me closely.

What can I do to stop this? I pressed, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. What can I do to make you believe me? You’re my partner, Clint – you’re supposed to trust me. His own sign name – a pulled back bowstring, fingers pinched into the sign similar to ‘love’ – coupled with my emotional plea made him still.

I want to believe you. Of course I do. But we haven’t seen you eat in forever, and you’ve been running yourself into the ground.

I’ll eat, I countered quickly, seizing the opportunity, before wetting my dry lips with my tongue. “I’ll eat. You can even watch. I’ll prove it – there’s nothing to worry about.” The words felt like knives in my throat, in more ways than one, but it was worth it to see Clint and Bruce share a look, my partner nodding firmly.

“If she says she’s ok, she’s ok. I trust her.” I could see the uncertainty in the archer’s eyes, only his respect driving him onwards, and I’d never been so grateful.

Good work. They can’t stop you now – not when you’re so close. You’re nearly ready to go back, and they know it. They want to make you fat and soft so that the Red Room won’t want you, but we can’t let them.

I nodded internally, glowing on the inside. The Voice was right – they were acting concerned, but they just knew I was getting too good, too strong, too much to stay here for much longer, and all they wanted was to clip my wings and weigh me down.

Clint replaced his aids with a sigh, turning to look at me. “Bruce is going to fix your wrist up, and I’m going to make you dinner. And then I'm going to watch you eat it. You got that?” His voice was firm, leaving no room for negotiation, and I nodded quickly, elated.

The doctor was quiet as he scanned by wrist, pointing out the hairline fracture along the radius. “It’s a pretty common FOOSH injury – ‘falling onto an outstretched hand’,” he explained when I frowned. “It should heal easily, provided you don’t hurt it further. But I’m going to put it in a cast to prevent that from happening,” he added, and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s basically a sprain, Doc. I’ve fought off armies with worse. A cast won’t be necessary.”

“I’m not asking,” he replied tersely, a cold, hard edge to his voice that made me recoil.

Even Bruce can’t stand to be near you. Will he even be able to get a cast on that fat wrist? He’s probably mad that you’re making him waste the resources on the likes of you. Useless.

I winced and ducked my chin, suitably chagrined, and Bruce let out a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Nat. I just… Want to make sure you’re okay. Barton might trust you, but…”

“But you don’t?” I countered, venom dripping from my voice. “You think my own partner doesn’t know me better than you?”

He sighed again, then raised his hands in defeat. “I’m putting the cast on. That’s it. I’m not going to try and force you to get help if you won’t accept it.” He turned away to gather the materials he needed, his voice dropping to almost indecipherable levels. “But Clint isn’t the only one who cares about you, Nat.”

I rolled my jaw, blood boiling, sitting in sullen silence until he stood before me once more, medical tray on the bed beside me.

“I’m going to need you to take your suit off,” he muttered, horrified revelation creeping into his words.

Bruce doesn’t want to see you with your clothes off? That’s a new low.

No, I noted thoughtfully, watching the red flush climb his neck and his refusal to meet my gaze. I’ve seduced enough men in my life to know what this is. This is innocence and inexperience. This… This is shyness.

And as easy an excuse as I could wish for.

“How about you get me a gown?” I offered, my voice as light and teasing as I could make it, fingers finding the zipper on my chest. Despite there being absolutely no chance I will be willingly stripping down in front of the doctor – no, I only want to make him blush.

Bruce glanced back at me uncertainly, throat bobbing as he nodded, an unmistakable green tinge to his flesh as he darted away, returning with a gown that would smother any hint of feminine curves and quell his appetite.

A shame. You could use a workout, and at least with him, you’re likely to be punished at the same time.

“You know, I’m not scared of you, Bruce. The green guy, either.” The words escaped me before I could register the thought, but I found myself steady and impassable as the zipper inched towards the curve of my chest.

The doctor’s jaw set, and he turned his head, averting his gaze through respect and fear. “I am.”

I slid to my feet noiselessly, trailing a hand across the tense shoulders hidden by a thick labcoat. “Maybe I could show you that there’s much more to life than fear.”

I heard him swallow dryly, the flesh under my fingertips swelling and expanding as his heart rate increased. “Natasha, stop…”

“I’m not afraid of either of you, Bruce. And if you’re worried about hurting me, don’t be. I can take-”

My words died in my throat as he turned, grasping my uninjured wrist firmly as it began to smooth across his chest. “Natasha. Stop.” There was no green glow to his face now, only a hard determination, and I stepped back with a playful grin, trying to keep the rejection from my face.

“It would be fun. That’s all I’m saying,” I offered with a shrug, fingers finding my own zipper once more – hesitating when he didn’t turn away. “… Are you going to watch?”

He smiled weakly, the motion not reaching his eyes. “It took me a second to figure it out. But then I thought to myself, ‘no, Natasha wouldn’t be that cruel’. But perhaps you could be that selfish.” I gazed wordlessly at him, jaw slack, before my shock turned to anger.

“Wanting to help you out – to give you satisfaction I’m sure you haven’t felt in a very long time, if ever – is cruel?” I laughed tersely, shaking my head. “Forgive me for wanting to be your friend, Bruce.”

His emotionless smile didn’t waver – instead, he simply lent against the stool. “Either way, I’ve got a handle on it now. No helping needed.”

“I’m not letting you watch me undress if I don’t get anything out of it,” I snapped, fighting the panic rising in my chest. Without the cover of lust and a lack of control, his clinical eyes could not see me. I didn’t need The Voice to tell me that. He’d be disgusted and horrified, dressing it up as concern, pumping sugar water into my veins until I was too bloated to move – too fat to run away.

“Why?” he pressed, head tipped with mock curiosity. “You seemed to have no qualms until you thought I was uncomfortable, or that I was having to fight with the Hulk - and even after that. I’m telling you, unequivocally, that I’m fine. So why not?”

My mouth worked silently, a rolodex of excuses flicking through my mind. “Haven’t enough men looked at my body without my consent?” I offered eventually, allowing a hint of self-pity to creep into my voice. He tried to remain impassive, but it took less than a second for him to break, turning away with a muttered apology and a hanging head. I feel bad, sure, I noted as I hurriedly slid my arms into the gown, careful to cover the litany of scars coating my biceps, but it’s not like it’s a lie.

Another flash -  being paraded, chained, before row after row of observers, pinching, pulling, poking and pushing – and my breath hiccupped in my chest, before I cleared my throat, instantly dragging back my careful reserve.

Weak. You’ll need to be punished for that later. Widows have no room for emotions.

Bruce half turned, driven by fear but restrained by respect. “It’s okay; you can look now.”

His eyes immediately scanned the available flesh of my forearms, tracing the line of my clavicle peering from under the loose neck of my gown, and I fought the urge to shudder, skin crawling under his gaze. “Okay. We’ll get this cast on, and then you can have dinner.”

Ugh, dinner. I’d forgotten about that. 

It took a matter of minutes for the cast to be fit, but the fifteen minutes of silence while we waited for it to harden felt endless. I knew I should apologise – after all, hadn’t Bruce been exactly right? What I did was cruel and selfish – but I couldn’t bring myself to permit the words, or the inevitable questions that would follow.

By the time Clint returned, half-coated in various bits of food and looking for all the world like he’d been dragged through a garbage disposal, the tension was palpable, and I couldn’t wait to escape.

“Grub’s up?” he offered tentatively, gaze flicking between the doctor and I. I simply nodded in response, glancing at Bruce as I slid to my feet.

“I’ll have to change first,” I noted dryly, gesturing down at my half-dressed form, the gown still covering my upper body, while my legs were encased in their trademark leather. Bruce only nodded in response, muttering something about being mindful of my cast, but letting me go without complaint.

I dropped onto the bed with a heavy sigh, diligently keeping my cast away from the bedspread. Clint had tried to intercept me, asking if I’d need any assistance with the leather with only one hand, but I had merely shook my head, offering an insincere, grateful smile as I closed the door in his face.

I just needed space.

The burn in my flesh began before I even had chance to reflect, starting as something akin to an itch, deep under my skin and in need of being carved out.

Glancing at the door to ensure I’d slid the bolt across – archaic, but effective – I dragged myself upright, shuffling to the en-suite with a resigned slope to my shoulder.

I hated this.

I hated fucking up, and I hated the punishment that came with it.

And it was that hatred that would drive me to do better, until a time came when I was perfect, and there were no more whispered hushes of blade on flesh and muffled whimpers of knuckles stuffed into teeth.

My things were only simply hidden – tucked into a tampon box they never knew I didn’t need – and I pulled out the kit in silence, tenderly caressing every facet as I lay the items before me. There was, I had to admit, a beauty in it – in seeing my indiscretions tallied in flesh, each the same as the last, a uniform ladder of sin.

It was between these rungs that I now pressed a fresh scalpel, unmarred by rust or blood. If there was one significant benefit of life at the Avenger’s Compound, it was certainly the never-ending – and, crucially, unmonitored – flow of medical supplies.

One – for the food I consumed at lunch.

Two – for the half-finished run.

Three – for being caught failing.

Four – for inciting suspicion.

Five – for almost losing everything.

Six - for Clint.

Seven – for Bruce.

Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen – for Bruce, for Bruce, for Bruce, for Bruce, for Bruce, for Bruce.

I did something I had never done.

One cut for each sin; that was the rule. Each as careful and precise as the next.

But this? This was not punishment, considered and reasonable.

This was vengeance against my cursed flesh and my cursed existence. There was no order, no scrutiny of depth and placement; there was only violence and vehemence.

Where is this rage coming from? I pondered, only a faint, distant alarm registering as I fought to stem the blood. I wasn’t naive enough to allow my heart rate to spike sharply – I’d made that mistake once, not longer after I moved into the compound, and now had Friday’s klaxon echoing in my mind as a stark warning against a repeat performance. It was for the same reason that my exercise within the compound building had to be intensified slowly – it was only careful negotiation on my part that had allowed me to have any degree of privacy, after all. The rooms were initially fitted to alert to a rise in heartrate of any speed, but I’d argued against that effectively enough, saying that we all had a nightmare or wanted to exercise from time to time, and shouldn’t have our personal lives broadcasted to the entire team. But the spike, they’d argued, could be deadly, and should be kept. I’d lost that one, but it was workable.

Because you’re useless, and selfish. Even your punishment is selfish, you fucking disappointment.

I nodded my agreement as I wrapped a scrap of bandage tightly around my arm, wincing as the fibres pressed into the holes gouged into my flesh. I’d gone too deep, I knew that – but there was no way I’d be hunting out Bruce for stitches. I’d healed from worse, and I’d heal again.

Bandaging wasn’t something I usually bothered with – infection only prolonged the pain, after all - but without my impermeable leather to hide the blood, I didn’t have another option. Instead, I permitted the coarse covering, scraping against my open flesh each time I moved to clean up the bathroom floor.

#fanfiction #mine #fandom: marvel #writers on tumblr #rating: e #whump #dd:de #Multitudes #MultiVerse #2 of 72 #CW: SH #cw: ed #CW: Overexertion #CW: Self-loathing #CW: Exercise as self-punshment #CW: Anorexia #Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanova #Black Widow #Clint Barton #Hawkeye #marvel fanfiction #cw: Injury #seduction as avoidance #bruce banner

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Dead Dove December Masterlist

"Stocking" Stalking/Trapped Hail Hydra - Chapter One. Sergeant James Buchannan 'Bucky' Barnes falls from a train in the Alps, and frequently wishes he'd not defied all logic and survived. CW: canon-typical violence, falling from a significant height, forced amputation, poor medical treatment, sickness, infection, possible paranoia/delusion.

Heartwarming/Hidden Hail Hydra - Chapter Two. Bucky’s captors leave their prisoner to fight through his illness. CW: sickness, overeating, paranoia, imprisonment, poor treatment of POWs, infection.

Ice Skating (Screaming)/Nutcracker/Home Hail Hydra - Chapter Three. When Sergeant Barnes starts to recover from his illness, he’s given other things to worry about. CW: illness recovery, temperature torture, hypothermia, loss of consciousness.

Curse/Captivity Hail Hydra - Chapter Four. Bucky is warmed up... A little too much. CW: Restraint, branding, threats of violence, temperature torture.

Jolly/Jugular Hail Hydra - Chapter Five. The torture turns violent, and Bucky struggles to cope. CW: Stab wound, shock collar, humiliation, forced nudity.

Blood in the Snow/No Strings Attached Hail Hydra - Chapter Six. Bucky seeks comfort. CW: Flashbacks (including forced amputation and brief body gore), Nightmares, T-rated smuttiness.

Giving Back/First Night/Tis the Season Hail Hydra - Chapter Seven. Bucky gives rebellion another go – and his only comfort is taken from him. CW: Canon-typical violence, neglect, locked outside in the cold, homophobia, shock collar, cliffhanger.

Mistletoe Madness/Stress Free (Stress Position) Hail Hydra - Chapter Eight. Aleksi’s torture reaches its finale, and Bucky gets put in isolation. CW: Canon-typical violence, submission to save another, stress position, reluctant whimper, physiological distress, emotional distress, lashing.

The Gift of Gunpoint (Alternate) Hail Hydra - Chapter Nine. Things begin to reach their climax, and an announcement reaches the Soviet compound. CW: Forced to kill; death of PoWs; mentions of torture, neglect and abuse; gun violence.

Cold as Ice/Secret Surprise On The Tides - Chapter Three. Bucky Barnes x Original Male Character. The Captain is a reluctant caretaker, looking after a needy newbie who is under the weather and desperate for affection and comfort. CW: brief discussion of traumatic, historical injury; sickness (non-vomiting).

Unexpected Gift (Best/Worst)/Lost Hail Hydra - Chapter Ten. Bucky is sought out, and he receives a gift from his new captors. CW: Nightmares, blood, death of a whumper.

Candy Cane/Candlelight/"The Light Goes Out" Silver & Gold - Chapter Five. Natasha Romanoff (ish) x Original Male Character. Silver and Gold go ice-skating, and a storm blows out their power. Even obstacles can be fun when you face them together. CW: Implied Smut, Self-image issues.

Alright, this is how far I got before realising the challenge is closed aohwdaiwh This was so much fun! Definitely need to plan my time better and do it again next year <3

@deaddovedec

#DD:DE #fanfiction #mine #fandom: marvel #masterlist #Character: James Buchannan 'Bucky' Barnes #CW: DD:DE #Dead dove Don't Eat #dead dove december #Rating: E

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hurtcember Masterlist

Alternative used - 'Snow'. Hail Hydra - Chapter One Sergeant James Buchannan 'Bucky' Barnes falls from a train in the Alps, and frequently wishes he'd not defied all logic and survived. CW: canon-typical violence, falling from a significant height, forced amputation, poor medical treatment, sickness, infection, possible paranoia/delusion.

"I'm Fine" Hail Hydra - Chapter Two Bucky’s captors leave their prisoner to fight through his illness. CW: sickness, overeating, paranoia, imprisonment, poor treatment of POWs, infection.

'Fainting' Hail Hydra - Chapter Three. When Sergeant Barnes starts to recover from his illness, he’s given other things to worry about. CW: illness recovery, temperature torture, hypothermia, loss of consciousness.

Alternative used - 'Hug' Hail Hydra - Chapter Four. Bucky is warmed up... A little too much. CW: Restraint, branding, threats of violence, temperature torture.

Dead Hail Hydra - Chapter Five. The torture turns violent, and Bucky struggles to cope. CW: Stab wound, shock collar, humiliation, forced nudity.

Starving Hail Hydra - Chapter Six. Bucky seeks comfort. CW: Flashbacks (including forced amputation and brief body gore), Nightmares, T-rated smuttiness.

Broken Hail Hydra - Chapter Seven. Bucky gives rebellion another go – and his only comfort is taken from him. CW: Canon-typical violence, neglect, locked outside in the cold, homophobia, shock collar, cliffhanger.

Flashback Hail Hydra - Chapter Eight. Aleksi’s torture reaches its finale, and Bucky gets put in isolation. CW: Canon-typical violence, submission to save another, stress position, reluctant whimper, physiological distress, emotional distress, lashing.

Paranoia Hail Hydra - Chapter Nine. Things begin to reach their climax, and an announcement reaches the Soviet compound. CW: Forced to kill; death of PoWs; mentions of torture, neglect and abuse; gun violence. @hurtcember This is how far I got! <3

#DD:DE #fandom: marvel #fanfiction #mine #Masterlist #Character: James Buchannan 'Bucky' Barnes #Rating: E #hurtcember #cw: violence