bakerstreet | Sensory deprivation meme

Sensory deprivation meme

the SENSORY DEPRIVATION meme:
You know those things you rely on to navigate you properly through life?
Senses? Yeah, well, kiss those goodbye.

(TRIGGER WARNING: This meme deals with the loss of senses:
blindness, inability to feel. If the concept of blindness, deafness
and/or the loss of any of your senses bothers you, please do NOT play this meme)

✖ Post with your character name/fandom/options for scenarios
(ie; het/slash fluff/smut) and your prompt.
✖ Use RNG to pick your numbers.
1-5 for regular senses, 6-10 for moral sense, 11-16 for cracky senses.

The Basic Five

1. Sense of Sight - Whether you woke up that way, had an accident, a brain tumor expanded or you had a bad reaction to something, you're now blind. Fully and completely. Watch out for that bu--*wince*

2. Sense of Smell - Did someone step in dog crap? It could be you, but you'd never know. You've lost your sense of smell. I guess there's no stopping by the roses for you, huh?

3. Sense of Hearing - "I'M NOT YELLING!!" Yes, yes you are. And no matter how loud you crank AC/DC, you're never hearing Highway to Hell again. Guess I shouldn't have gotten you the Stones compalition CD's, huh?

4. Sense of Taste - No, it doesn't taste like chicken. In fact, it doesn't taste like anything. Perfect time to get that friend that burns everything to cook for you - at least it'll make them happy and you can smile through the whole ordeal.

5. Sense of Touch - Where'd you get that bruise? Or that gaping knife wound? No clue. You have utterly lost the ability to feel anything, like your body is enveloped in fuzzy packing tape. Punch the wall all you want, you ain't gonna feel anything.

The Guiding Factors

6. Sense of Right and Wrong - Tripping people that get in your way? Taking candy from babies? Killing someone that hurt you and yours? All sound like pretty good ideas right about now. Your entire moral code has been thrown into the 'grey' area. There is no right or wrong, only what you want.

7. Sense of Decency - Things that just 'aren't done' are in play for you now. Evicting old ladies and orphans because they can't pay? Pff. Good. Lousy Mooching leeches. Hitting on that underage and naive little thing? Puh-leeze, they're an easy mark. Deflower, deport and debauch yourself to your heart's content.

8. Sense of Self - You don't even know who you are anymore. What are you doing with your life? What's it all mean? What the hell's it for? Why even bother to get up in the morning? Are you going to go try and 'find' yourself? Or just give up?

9. Sense of Preservation - Your life? Means about as much as a mouse fart. Why should you step out of the way of that speeding train? You were there first. Mouthing off to that huge, angry, overpumped steroid-faced goon sounds like a good idea too. He took your seat. And he smells.

10. Sense of Empathy - That ability that lets you put yourself in the shoes of others, to relate to them? Gone. No, you don't know what they're feeling, and quite frankly, you don't want to. You have your own things to deal with, and they're much more important. Why? Because they're yours.

The Quirky Ones

11. Sense of Humor - Wait, am I supposed to laugh now? You have to take your cue from those around you, laughing when they do, usually a little bit late and a little too long. Not even a fart joke will crack a smile.

12. Sense of Direction - You couldn't find your ass with both hands. Literally. You tried. And wound up getting thrown in the clink for inappropriate conduct with a nun. Don't drop the soa-- Too late.

13. Sense of Modesty - So what if you're using a belt as a skirt. It looks good, right? Bending over and showing off too much isn't an issue for you, neither is changing in the middle of the store if you just have to wear that cute little shirt now.

14. Sense of Fashion - Yes, you think a pink polka-dotted bikini top goes just smashingly with the neon green bellbottoms. Bubblewrap tops? Freakin' awesome. Put it on and flaunt it, and watch people's eyes bleed.

15. Sense of Timing - "What do you mean now's a bad time?" Yes, because you think trying to pick up a girl at her husband's funeral is a good thing. What? She's single. You're late to everything. A clock? Wassat? Strange, foreign words...

16. Mix and Match - You poor bastard, you've lost more than one sense. 2? 3? The whole lot? Who knows, that's up to you.

(reposted from memebells@lj, originally here)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Sharon grins softly as she feels his stubble against her hand. The grin fades as she wonders who else will shave him, whom he might trust enough other than her to ask. Whom he can ask.

Salazar watches them as the other former captive is brought to them. Sharon pulls away regrettably from James and stoops to patch together the man's cuts and abrasions.

As soon as he's cleaned up, Sharon pulls him to his feet. "You can fall apart when you get home," she told him gently.

She nods to James. "You'd better go. The sooner you're gone and all that." She stands but doesn't move closer to him. As much as she might like to, it would just make letting to that much harder.

James nods. He reaches out for the other man to steady him. "I'm not leaving without that phone to call you on," he says, looking to Salazar. "And I'm not waiting for you men to load the ship. You want me to eliminate these targets, that's what I'm going to do."

His headache from straining his unseeing eyes is back, as it the tingling in his arms and legs. He needs to get onto the ship, and fast.

Salazar snaps rapid orders to his men, and one steps forward to guide James to the ship. Another hands him a phone. "For now, you have my private line. Agent Neville will be close to me to insure her safety." He looked down his nose at her for a moment, then nodded. "Vamos."

Sharon stands her ground. "Call the number. Make sure it works."

Salazar sighs and dials a number. The phone in James' hand rings. "There. You have very little trust, Agent Neville."

She frowns at him, but she can't very well argue.

James frowns, but pockets the phone. He moves the CIA agent in front of him to act as guide (though he doesn't realize, it looks more like protection) and follows him.

He can feel the boat shifting under his feet and staggers a single step then recovers, reaching out. His hand finds a railing and he clings to it.

He's not sure what, exactly, he can say to Sharon, so instead he just says, "Be safe." Before turning away.

She moves to the railing to watch him leave. "Be good," she calls to him as he boards the boat across the dock. Her voice sounds almost teasing, holding little of the worry she feels.

She swallows as the boat pushes away from the dock, gaining speed as it heads for open water. She keeps an eye on it until she can't see it anymore, then continues to watch.

Finally, Salazar clears his throat. "I'm surprised he did not mention your wounds."

"He's seen me with worse."

"And his balance? It seemed off."

She frowns at him. "He gave me most of our food and water. He'll eat and be fine." She turns back to the water. "He's hard to kill."

"Let's hope so." He pushes her chair out for her with a foot. "Sit. It would not do for you to get an infection. I'll help you."

Sharon looks after James for another minute before she trudges back to the seat, letting Salazar take care of the wounds she can't reach very well on her own. She hopes that James got a sample of poison in the tainted drugs. She hopes he's safe.

In the end, it's not James that comes for Sharon, but Natasha. She's alone, and she's even more ruthlessly efficient than James. There are no prisoners taken. Salazar isn't spared.

It's been more than a month since James left and in that time, he had spoken to her only a few times. It had been almost two weeks since they last spoke.

Natasha makes her way to Sharon's side. She's splattered with blood, but is perfectly composed and looks completely furious. "Let's go. There's a quinjet waiting for us." She offers out her hand.

Sharon grabs Natasha's hand gratefully and doesn't let go until her arms are firmly around Natasha in a tight hug. She's heedless of any blood that might stain her clothes as a result. "Am I ever glad to see you."

It isn't just because of her captivity, either. It feels like ages since she's seen Natasha, and her experience with Salazar had just made her all the more grateful to see her friend.

She lets go quickly but keeps a grip on Natasha's hand, as if assuring herself that Natasha is real. She's not sure how long it's been. Since her last conversation with James, Salazar has kept her locked in a room, and he's been her only contact with the outside world. She can guess what it means; he's displeased with James and is taking it out on her. She doesn't know exactly what James had done, but she's pleased nonetheless.

"What are you doing here?" Sharon keeps pace with Natasha as she speaks, and she hopes Natasha doesn't hold it against her that Sharon doesn't volunteer information about James. But Sharon hasn't been volunteering information about James since she met him; she isn't going to do it now, even with one of her best friends.

"Rescuing you. We'll talk more on the quinjet." The halls Natasha leads Sharon through are deserted halls, bodies littering the carpet. She has no trouble with holding Sharon's hand - she looks off-balance to Natasha, tired and withdrawn.

Natasha heads outside, where there's a Quinjet sitting on the front lawn of Salazar's compound. Clint is in the pilot's seat and as soon as they're in he takes off.

"Sit," Natasha directs. "Get us home, Clint." She sits next to Sharon. "James is..." She hesitates and she never hesitates, "Not well. The poison that he was dosed with started taking a toll on him after he got back. Steve's at Salazar's labs, grabbing his scientists and all the research he can. Hopefully we can still find an antidote for him."

"A real, genuine rescue. I'm flattered." If she's thrown off by the bodies, it doesn't show. If anything upsets her about them, it's likely that she didn't get the chance to kill them herself.

Sharon drops into a seat as soon as she's told to do so, giving Barton a grateful smile. She hasn't gotten enough exercise lately to push herself so hard without consequences.

Her eyes cloud with worry as soon as Natasha starts giving her an update. She shudders. Things must have been desperate for James to involve Steve. "Is he-" She swallows. "He isn't okay, is he."

Once again, she reviews a mental list of what paralysis such as his can lead to. She'd known he got to the States all right. But they couldn't discuss his condition with Salazar so close. Her mind has been torturing her worse than Salazar could have, thinking of the paralysis that might be spreading to his lungs, how his tongue might stop working, preventing him from communicating. A prisoner in his own body. She knew that so long as she was in trouble, he wouldn't kill himself, but she'd hated thinking what he might be going through in the meantime. She'd tried to escape twice, but Salazar's men had caught her each time.

"No, he's not. Soon after he got back, he was unable to walk. He had the ability to communicate for a long time, but now..." She sighs a little. "He asked us to put him under just after the last time he called you. He's on a ventilator because his lungs keep seizing up and he can't breathe.

"The only think keeping him alive right now is the serum he's got. That, and the intubation." It hurt even her to see such a strong soldier laid so low. "There's going to come a point where either his body gives up or we have to end it. He's been in a medically induced coma for over a week already." Natasha reaches out to wrap her hand around Sharon's. "But he wanted to make sure that you got back safe. Said that whatever has to happen that you're the one making the decision for him." Which Steve had been a bit upset about, but he was getting used to it rather quickly.

Sharon's face loses what little color it still has, and she lurches upward. "Clint. Can you get us to the hospital?"

She falls back into her seat without waiting for an answer, grasping Natasha's hand tightly. She bites her lip and commands herself not to cry. She feels helpless. This wasn't the rescue she'd been hoping for.

She supposes she should consider herself lucky to be rescued at all. After all, she has to make the decision for him.

She takes a deep breath and holds it. She can't do it. She won't let anyone kill him until they've done all they can for him.

She was wrong about her ability to withstand torture. She'd always imagined it would be getting punched or cut. Physical pain. She'd been wrong. This feeling, this helplessness, is torture. It's torture that SHIELD had never prepared her for.

"That's where we're heading," he tells her over his shoulder. "It'll be a couple of hours, though."

Natasha reaches over and pulls out a bottle of water. She passes it over, "Here. Drink this. I'll get you something to eat. Are you injured anywhere? Did they hurt you?"She puts her other hand on Sharon's shoulder, trying to steady her.

Sharon shivers but takes the water. She drinks it automatically. "I- No." She closes her eyes and tries to concentrate. "They didn't hurt me. I think they were too afraid to. Food and a shower, I'll be good to go."

She wouldn't mind a change of clothes, either, but she isn't taking time to do any of that until she's seen Bucky. She looks toward the cockpit as if she'll be able to see the hospital. But of course she can't.

"How long until we have word from Steve?"

"He's going to meet us there," Natasha says. She stands and finds Sharon a snack then goes to one of the bags. She digs out a change of clothes and changes right there - jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers. She scrapes her hair into a ponytail then finds another change of clothes for Sharon. "Clean clothes will help." She set the clothes down then went to get some food for Sharon, digging out protein bars not unlike what she and James had been eating while on the run.

Sharon watches her absently, slowly making sense of what Natasha is doing. She makes a face at the protein bar. It feels like she's eaten far too many of them lately. Still, she unwraps it and takes a bite before making sure Clint is concentrating on flying the plane before changing her shirt.

She swallows. "What have a I missed? James couldn't tell me much." She grins sadly. "How'd the reunion with Steve go?" It sounds like both of them had survived. That was something, at least.

"It went about as well as it probably could have. James could barely walk and Steve was the only one who could carry him for long distances, so." She shrugs a little. "They kind of had to get along. As for after that... Steve spent a lot of time at his bedside and James spent a lot of time either ignoring him or pretending he wasn't Steve's friend."

Which had been annoying, to say the least.

Sharon nods and gets up to change the rest of her clothes. "They're both ridiculously stubborn."

Done with changing, she looks around hopelessly for something more to keep herself busy. She eats the rest of her protein bar and finishes her water.

She bites her lip again and sinks dejectedly into her seat with another glance toward the cockpit. She swallows and tries to concentrate on being here with Natasha, tries not to think of James lying in a coma.

"Do I need to get Steve some sort of card?" She looks to Natasha. "I wanted to tell you. You and Steve. But James... He didn't want that." And there was no need to mention that James had threatened to kill Steve at the time.

"Nah, I mean." She sighs and settles next to Sharon again. "Steve's a big boy. I think he's getting over the fact that his best friend is gone. Or, at least, changed beyond recognition."

She'd never had anybody that had known her, before she'd been the Widow. Clint had known her while she was still with the KGB, however briefly, but that still wasn't the same. "Still, he does miss Bucky. And I think he'll always be convinced that James is Bucky. Can't really blame him."

"James will never admit how Bucky he is sometimes," Sharon confides. Her hand slips into Natasha's, and she rests her head on Natasha's shoulder. She knows that she's being too touchy-feely, but she can't bring herself to break the human contact. She'd spent the last... however long avoiding physical contact with people, constantly aware that she was alone and surrounded by enemies. But Natasha is a friend. Better, a friend who would never try to rape or kill her, and Sharon's starving for a kind touch.

"He's grown, though. I think... I think James is better than Bucky. At the end of the day. Steve'll get used to it."

Natasha curls her other arm around Sharon's shoulders. She's not used to seeing the woman broken down and so stressed. But she's still human and it's sometimes easy to forget after spending enough time with Steve or Thor that human beings were, sometimes, fragile.

"The first time you brought James around and told us to trust him... I thought you were crazy, Sharon." The Winter Soldier, though, wasn't a leader, wasn't able to influence others. That had all been stripped from him.

"But he trusted you. And the Soldier doesn't trust. He obeys, compelled by fear and pain." Natasha sighs again and runs her fingers through Sharon's hair.

"I look at James and only see the Soldier. Steve looks at James and only sees Bucky. And I think we're both wrong. I think you're right. He's James and nobody else."

Her eyes drift close as Natasha strokes her hair.

"And now..." Now he was trusting her with pulling the plug if they couldn't cure him. And she'd do it. She'd have to do it. She understood a fraction of what it meant to him, not to be a prisoner anymore. If they couldn't help him, she had to let him go.

She takes a breath and forces herself to close her eyes and concentrate on Natasha's fingers until she feels calmer. "I thought I was crazy at first, too. I'm still not sure why he didn't kill me right off the bat." She grins shakily as she thinks about him before the Salazar mission, followed immediately by the thought of how helpless he now is. "Except for how he's an asshole."

"Who's watching out for him?"

"Bruce is at the hospital with him. Thor's there too. I think Tony's trying to just avoid the whole thing, but he got some pretty amazing doctors set up for James, so he's trying to pretend the whole thing isn't bothering him."

Natasha sits back and gently pulls Sharon sideways so her blonde head is resting in Natasha's lap. "Try and rest. Clint's a good pilot and if he drives us through turbulence he knows what's going to happen." She smiles and keeps running her fingers through Sharon's hair, trying to be soothing.

Sharon's eyes close slowly. She knows she needs sleep. She'd been tired enough that she'd been tempted to sleep on Natasha's shoulder. Her captivity with Salazar hadn't exactly been restful, and neither is the sleep she gets now. As much as it comforts her that the Avengers are protecting James, it doesn't make up for the fact that he's in a coma right now.

But having Natasha close helps, and the hum of the plane as it carries her home helps, too.

When next she wakes enough to try and talk, they're in US airspace. She forces herself to sit, rubbing her eyes. Despite Natasha's efforts, she feels even more tired than before.

"Peggy. I didn't ask about Peggy." This was the longest she'd gone without talking to Peggy in years, particularly now that Peggy had dementia. Sharon could never tell which conversation would be the last that Peggy could remember her.

"She's doing fine. I went to see her right before I left to come get you." Natasha immediately reaches out to steady Sharon. "When I left, she seemed to remember the conversation we had, though..." It was impossible to know if the memory of that conversation would stick around or not.

"How far out are we, Clint?"

He turns in his chair. "About twenty minutes. I radioed ahead, they know we're coming and Steve's already there as well."

She jolts up to pack, forsaking Natasha's hand only to fall back into her seat. She has nothing to pack and nothing to prepare. Nonetheless, her nerves are humming with energy.

"Have they had samples for long? Have they had any luck?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject