visible signs of illness or injury đ¤ characters who hate calling attention to themselves
grumpy team leader showing up on monday morning with their arm in a sling, coat draped awkwardly over their shoulders
young, bold up-and-coming captain desperately trying to hide a limp to avoid being benched
visible bruises hidden under a sweater that keeps riding up, or poorly covered with makeup, dodging questions as their friends get more and more concerned
medic counting on their team not paying too much attention to the slowly spreading stain underneath their field jacket and the way that their hands are shaking
reliable, steady intelligence source doesnât get sick, and the way their voice is cracking over the radio is just a bad signal
a meeting that they have to lead in five minutes and a black eye that theyâve resigned themselves to not being able to hide
absolutely refusing to admit anything is wrong despite the poorly-muffled coughing and sniffling
fresh stitches underneath a suit or gown, shrugging off friendly hugs that land on just-closed wounds
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Superhero whump, where VIllianâs power is to hurt people with touch.
So, basically, Villian can torture Hero for hours without having to stop because they arenât hurting Heroâs physical body (if that makes sense?)
(And what if, since it doesnât leave scars nobody believes Hero later?)
DUDE YES. YESYES YES. there is so much angst and suffering
At first, Hero didnât understand why Villain wore gloves. Then Villain traced the tip of their finger over Heroâs jaw, and it made sense.
If someone had shoved a cattle prod under their skin, it would have hurt less. The pain was electric, and throbbed through their entire bodyâ pounding behind their eyesâsinking deeper than any physical blow.
Hero didnât realize they were shaking until Villain laughed softly. âWhy, Iâve only touched you.â
Villain wrapped a hand around Heroâs wrist, watching as they jerked back against their restraints, back arching in a silent scream. âI thought you were tougher than that,â said Villain and took hold of Heroâs other wrist. This time, Hero cried outâ the sound more animal than human.
The torture session lasted six hours. After, Villain pulled out a handheld mirror. Hero didnât know what they expected to see butâŚthey looked the same. Like the past six hours never happened.
The second session lasted seven hours. After the fifth, Hero stopped screaming because their voice no longer worked.
âItâs not like you have information I want,â Villain told them. âThis is just fun.â
When Heroâs teammates find them, they expect Hero to be battered, beaten, unrecognizable. Sure, Hero was chained to a table, but they looked fine. They had deep purple bags under their eyes and looked terrified, but other than that? they looked fine.
âYou couldnât manage to get of here on your own?â
They undo Heroâs restraints but make no other effort to help them.
Later, no one notices how Hero flinches from touch.
Hero doesnât allow anyone to place a hand on them. Ever. Everyone assumes Hero is simply paranoid. But when it continues, the team grows tired.
âYouâre fine. Villain didnât even hurt you.â
âYou really expect us to believe you got hurt in there? The medicâs report said you had no physical damage.â
âStop trying to make us pity you. Itâs not workingâ
Hero looks in the mirror and tries, desperately, to find any sign of the electric pain they endured. Thereâs nothing. Their eyes are emptier though, glassy and cold.
Maybe somewhat predictably, I am a big fan of when a team goes into a high-stakes mission where failure of some degree is all but guaranteed, where there's basically no way that everyone is going to get out unscathed.
But something that might rival that for me is when it's a low-stakes, run-of-the-mill mission. An easy op, where no one is supposed to get hurt. And then it goes wrong--intel was bad, there are baddies they weren't expecting, or there's just a series of flukes that go the bad guys' way.
Whatever the case, no one sees it coming when one of their own gets badly injured. And they aren't equipped for it. There's no back up, no evacuation plan. The up-beat (maybe even playful) attitude the team had going into the op is all but shattered as they scramble to rescue one of their own, who's as confused as everyone else is worried about the blood that's pouring from their body. It's a sobering reminder that what they all do is always dangerous, even when they aren't going up against a big bad.
Summary: the team gets held up at a base where one of the members of the team decides to give herself up in exchange for the safety and freedom of her teammates.
Warnings: language, creepy pet names, past abuse/torture, abuse/torture, sexual harassment, sexual assault (not detailed), non-consensual touching/stripping
Word Count: 2,089
Prompt: Team Dynamics, hostage situation, take me instead, recorded message, rescue
A/N: day 6 of March Trope-A-Thon by @amonthofwhump (not proof read, sorry for any errors)
They werenât sure where everything went wrong. One moment, they were in an abandoned base for some type of extremist group that they had never heard of before, or so they had thought, and the next, three members were being held hostage in the northwest wing of the base.
One member, who was assigned to the northeast section, had previous experience with this group. She didnât say anything because she didnât want the repercussions that would follow. Surely, they would have to go through a long process of questioning her to see if she was an undercover agent or not. It would be pointless. So she decided to save them all the trouble.
As soon as she heard things go awry, she separated herself from the group she was assigned. There is no doubt in her mind that theyâre looking for her. Quickly, she recorded a message for her team. She had to explain to them why she was giving herself up. It was the only way to make sure that the rest of the team got out safely. She told Friday to deliver it to the team.
She ran to the southwest section as fast as she could. She didnât want them to do anything to the guys before she could reach them. She wouldnât allow that to happen.
A man met her outside of the room they were being kept in. He immediately smiled when he saw her familiar face. âHello, nice of you to return.â
âLet them go, Charlie,â she grumbled, not up to conversing with any of these assholes. He wasnât at all surprised that she was so rude. He didnât even appear affected by her grumpy attitude.
âWhat are you offering in return?â Charlie smirked, knowing full well that sheâd offer herself up. They were never able to break that part of her that was always so selfless. At that moment, it seemed to have paid off.
âYou know damn well what Iâm âofferingâ, asshole.â
He grinned, wanting to hang this over her head like a piece of meat to a dog. When she had left, she told them that theyâd never see her again, that sheâd die before sheâd end up stuck with them again. Yet there she was. âI wanna hear you say it, sweetheart.â
âTake me instead, alright?â She snapped.
âAnd how can we be sure you wonât just turn around and kill us?â
âIâm not stupid. You of all people should know that. Iâll go with you guys willingly. Beyond that, I canât promise Iâll comply.â
âGood enough for me, sweet cheeks.â
Anger flared in her every time he used one of those god damn pet names. That was definitely something she didnât miss.
She was taken away to an exit before she could check to see if the others were released. Luckily, they didnât remove her earpiece, so she was able to hear the groupâs confusion as they were released without any harm coming to any of them. That was all she honestly cared about, so when the man held out his hand, she willingly gave over the earpiece.
The man was surprised that she complied so easily, but he definitely wasnât complaining.
Of course, they had a sedative to inject her with when they arrived at the white van theyâd be taking her in. She didnât fight, as promised, when they injected her.
The men made sure to strip her body before they left. They didnât want to take anything that might have a tracker on it.
When she woke up, she was lying on a standard cot in a cell. She sighed but didnât make any movement. There was no point in getting up.
It seemed like hours before the door was opened. She didnât even bother to look at who entered. She didnât care.
âGlad to have you back, pretty thing.â
Her gut twisted hearing the voice she never wanted to hear again. An onslaught of memories that she had tried her hardest to erase from her mind came flooding back.
No matter what, she wouldnât let him see that something as simple as his voice had affected her. She had to stay strong for the sake of her dignity. He would only be satisfied if he knew what effect he had on her anyway. And she absolutely refused to give him any more satisfaction than having her back already did.
âI missed you,â he sincerely said, âI missed the feeling of your body against mine.â
She didnât respond. She just lied still on her back, looking at the ceiling.
âOh, come on. Donât be like that, baby.â He moved to sit next to her on the bed. âI know at least a part of you missed me too.â
She internally scoffed. In his dreams, she thought. She always knew that man was deranged. That only proves her point. Who on earth would ever miss the man that repeatedly raped them? She didnât have Stockholm syndrome.
She didnât even flinch when his hand found her calf. She just closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself for whatever he was going to do to her.
It was as horrible as she remembered it being. During the time she was held down to the bed as he assaulted her, she stared off, focusing on a spot on the ceiling. She didnât cry unlike the first few times. She had no tears left to cry. Not after everything she had been through.
When he left the room she felt like a shell of herself. She was on the road to recovery. She had just begun to receive touch from her teammates, who never so once showed any bad intentions, without dissociating. All of the progress she made on her own without the help of anyone was flushed down the toilet. It had taken her so damn long to recover and she was back to square one. It wasnât fair. Not in the slightest.
The next time the door opened, Charlie had some food for her. She didnât sit up. She just lied there, staring at the same spot on the ceiling. Even when he threatened to take away her food, she didnât move. She knew that Charlieâs threats were empty anyway.
He would never allow anyone but himself to keep food from her. He was the only one allowed to touch her, the only one to allow her to have clothes or blankets. He was in charge of her. Everything she got was from him.
She supposed that she should be grateful. She was being fed well and taken care of. He could have beat her and starved her until she was on the brink of death.
But he didnât.
He loved her. In his own sick, twisted way, he loved her.
Unfortunately for him, she didnât give a shit about his feelings. He could treat her like a princess and apologise until he turned blue and she still wouldnât forgive him. He didnât deserve forgiveness.
She turned her head to look at what food he had offered her today. Charlie had left, she couldnât tell you when he had, but she was alone again. Being alone there was a relief. It was the only time she truly allowed herself to have any emotions or reactions.
Sitting up, she winced at the uncomfortable feeling in her gut. She hadnât felt that for such a long time. She had almost forgotten what it was like.
There was a bowl of soup on the tray. Wild rice soup. There was a dinner roll and a salad for her as well. He had even gone all out and got her a dessert. Sure it was just a simple fun sized candy bar, but she never usually got anything sweet unless she did something really good. It was probably a welcome back gift, she mused.
Picking up the tray, she placed it on her lap before digging in. She was able to stomach the food despite what had just transpired mostly because she had grown accustomed to it all those years she had been trapped with him. Even though she hadnât been with him for years, everything was still ingrained into her brain. It was as if she took a very nice extended vacation from this treacherous place. She only wished it could have been longer.
The next day was marked by Charlie bringing her breakfast. She was glad that he didnât decide to join her as he used to do. She didnât think sheâd be able to stomach eating around him that time around.
The whole day passed by pretty uneventfully. Thereâs not much to do when youâre trapped in a room with nothing to occupy your time with, after all.
She didnât want to keep track of the time she spent there because it was too depressing, but she knew that a lot of time had passed. He had come into her room plenty of times for his own entertainment. Whether it be by using her body or just simply attempting to have a conversation with her unwilling self, he managed to find time every day to visit her at least once.
She wondered how the team was doing in her moments alone. Briefly she had wondered if they might be searching for her, but she brushed off the idea. She didnât know why theyâd bother. After all, she did give herself upâeven if it was for the greater good.
After a session of abuse that had been particularly rough, she was exhausted. Sleep pulled her into unconsciousness almost as soon as she was alone.
It didnât feel long until she was woken up by the door opening. That time, however, was different. Instead of the calm way that both him and Charlie used, this was rushed; frantic.
The door slammed against the wall, probably making a dent if she had to guess. She tried not to move, but she couldnât help but to flinch. Memories of past experience told her that whatever was in store wasnât good.
If he ever slammed the door open, he had usually been pissed off. And that meant heâd take his anger out on her. Sheâd remember the bruises that he would leave on her body after days like that. It made a shiver run up her spine.
Her heart skipped a beat when she heard a metallic voice say âI found her.â
Sitting up, she had seen Tony wearing his latest suit. He retracted the mask and rushed to her side.
He was so relieved to find that she had no fatal injuries. The team had feared the worst when she had disappeared, only her suit and comms left behind. But she was alive. Alive and well, so it seemed.
âNat, bring the go bag to my location,â Tony ordered, checking their surroundings. There were no visible torture devices in the room which was a bit of a relief.
âYouâre not hurt anywhere are you?â Tony asked, looking over her body once more, that time a bit more closely. His heart stopped and his face paled seeing a white substance between her legs. There were fresh bruises on her hips that made his gut twist in the most unpleasant way. They should have found her sooner.
âIâm fine, Tony,â she murmured, placing her hand on his forearm. It was both a relief and a great stressor that he knew the truth at last. She had never told anyone because she didnât want to be viewed as weak, or lesser than everyone else on the team. But not having to keep such a prevalent part of her life a secret lifted a weight off of her shoulders.
Natasha came into the room soon after with a duffle in hand. She unzipped it and grabbed out some clothes for her to wear before they left in the Quinjet. Tony left, not wanting to invade her privacy any more than he already had. Plus, he figured Natasha would be best equipped to handle the situation.
âHe canât hurt you anymore,â Natasha assured her after she got dressed, holding out her arms out in case she wanted some physical comfort. She didnât expect it, but it would be better to offer than not.
She crashed into Natashaâs arms, finally letting years of unshed tears fall from her eyes.
Natasha soothingly rubbed her back as she sobbed into her chest. Tears came to her own eyes as she whispered words of affirmation to her.
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Context: Team dynamics. Kaeya and Tartaglia are in Dragonspine. Theyâre sitting at a log, talking about snow.
A drabble from some time ago turned out to be me figuring out how would Kaeya react to suddenly being âattackedâ harshly from someone like Tartaglia. I think Tartaglia is far more straightforward and honest and physical compared to Kaeya, whoâs more distant and keeps his secrets while maintaining a lighthearted exterior.
I like the idea of Kaeya applying Cryo when touching someone but then I realized Kaeyaâs attacks are usually defensive so the idea is less âretaliate agajnst Tartagliaâ (left) and more âget Tartaglia away from me physicallyâ (right)
This is probably definitely spoilers but I'm going to ask anyway! Do the ros all know each others real names and faces? Are they all pretty close? How long have they known each other? If its totally spoilers then maybe who's known each other the longest?
Gonna answer this in order:
Yes, they do. Because theyâre near the target, they try not to say their real names out loud too often. Thereâs also the fact they havenât âsettle inâ with the apartment complex nicely yet, so itâll take a bit for them to be comfortable enough to consider it âhomeyâ.
Yes, theyâre pretty close as a tight-knit group. Although, Zeus is closer to Dionysus due to some personal experiences being relatable and Hermes is best with Ares because of how these two have some interests in common. Zeus and Hermes tend to have some hostility though - not to the point of bond-breaking, but itâs more like an older sibling being too strict and a younger sibling being too reckless.
I canât estimate the number of years (mainly cuz Iâm still working on that), but for how long theyâve known each other:
Zeus has known Dionysus the longest out of the team, and vice versa. This is because, when the squad was made, Dionysus was the second to join the squad. Youâll see more information in the game through interactions.
Ares is the third to join - Zeus had been the one who approached them first, mainly because before Ares joined, they were more of a freelance mercenary for a different branch of the company. Once itâs recognized how Ares does really well with the squad better than with the troops Ares was in, along with some personal conditions, they had Ares transferred.
Hermes had been the last of the four to join and at first, theyâre not the most...enthusiastic member. But Ares is someone who they feel most comfortable (Not that Dionysus didnât try - Hermes just finds them too sweet at times and theyâre not used to Dionysusâs type of person at the first impression yet. Zeus...Well, as mentioned above).
