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)

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Natasha watches Sharon stroke her fingers over James's hand. "Sharon, I hate to have to ask, but... Are you and James... I know you're partners and you're close, but are you together?" She'd been around both Sharon and James (and both of them together) more than any other Avenger. It was impossible to deny that there was something there.

"No?" Sharon doesn't sound particularly certain, though. She's quiet for several seconds and finally shrugs. "I don't know. We're partners, and we're close, but- but when he first lost his vision, he liked putting an arm around me. I thought it was because- I don't know. But then before we left, he kissed me on top of my head? It could have been maintaining an act. I-"

She shakes her head and draws a breath before giving a helpless shrug. "We're close. If it isn't that kind of love, we're still- I just want to help him, Natasha." Her grip tightens on his hand. She doesn't want to lose him. She's not sure what will happen to her if she loses him.

Natasha nods. She reaches out to touch Sharon's hand gently. "We'll get him back Sharon. He's a fighter." She met Sharon's eyes, her expression softened, worried. "He survived seventy years in Hydra's hands, he's not going to let some goon with too much money on his hands kill him now." She turns to look at James. "Isn't that right, James?"

There was no response, of course. James continued to lay still and silent, aside from the machine forcing his lungs to swell and contract.

Natasha sighs at James then reaches up to stroke her hands through his greasy hair. "You'd better come back, you stupid man."

Sharon draws a shuddering breath and nods. "Too stupid to die. Can't figure out how it works."

At least the coma would keep him from feeling pain, right? Though he'd looked so pained when she first came in...

"I've never shaved anyone's face before. Let's do this."

Natasha smiles. She sits back a little and offers the razor to Sharon. "Here. At least if you cut him he won't be able to react, the big baby." She carefully adjusts the tubes one more time. She's careful not to move them, just move the straps out of the way a little.

Sharon takes the razor, then hesitates. She takes another breath to steel herself, then starts shaving, so careful that most of her SHIELD teachers would have been surprised. She shaves close to his face at first before using the wet cloth to wipe everything away, then cutting closer, all the way to the skin.

She's even more careful with his neck and jaw. Despite her care, she still spots a cut on his jaw and curses as she presses the towel to it. Again, she's tempted to cry, and she closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths before she goes back to shaving him, moving bit by bit across his face.

Natasha watches Sharon carefully and once she's done she takes the razor and stands. The water is dumped into a nearby sink. As she comes back she picks up the tablet that was left on the side table. She opens up a video then quickly pauses it. She passes it over to Sharon. "Shortly before he was unable to breathe, he recorded this for you. None of us have watched it, it's just for you." She offers the tablet then says, "I'll be back." She smiles and heads for the door.

Sharon's smoothing James's hair out of his face, as if no one else had ever thought to do that with him, when Natasha hands her the tablet. She stares at it, then Natasha, then stares back at the tablet as Natasha leaves.

She sits there for almost a full minute, unmoving.

Finally, she speaks, her voice rough. "This had better not be you saying goodbye."

Her finger presses play in a jerky movement before she can put it off for any longer. She grips the tablet with both hands and bites her lip.

There's a bit of a scrabbling noise and darkness at the beginning of the video, then the tablet is adjusted and James comes into focus. He's sitting up in the hospital bed, an oxygen line hooked on over his ears. He looks weak and shaky, and it's obviously a struggle breathe. "Hey... So I'm not planning on saying goodbye in this video, but I guess I might..."

He sighs and shifts a little. "I just got off the phone talking with you, and I guess I'm not sure how long it's going to be before you see this, but..." He's hesitant, a bit unsure. "I hope it's not too long. Natasha's coming to get you, which is good. I made her promise that if anything happened to me that you would be fine.

"I've never trusted anybody the way I trust you, Sharon. You've had every right to kill me, to be one of the people locking me up. I probably should have been locked up, after everything I did. I'm not apologizing for any of that, by the way. Just that you would have been right to do what you thought was necessary.

"I guess we need to talk after I wake up. THere's some things I've needed to tell you for a long time, but it was never the right time. Now I know that there might never be a right time. I just hope you'll be able to forgive me if I die and I never get to tell you those things."

James blinks tiredly. "The doctors don't know what's wrong with my eyes. They still apparently respond to light, there's no cloudiness, but it's like my brain forgot how to see. They're going to do some brain scans soon, see if it's neurological or what. I guess you'll learn the results of that. I won't get to."

He sits back a little and the tablet tilts so it's not quite pointed at his face anymore. "I should go. It's getting harder to breathe. I... I miss you, Sharon. I really hope you'll be there when I wake up."

Then the video ended.

Sharon bows her head as she watches. His features blur as her eyes turn wet again. She reaches out to trace the line of his face on the video, her fingers hovering just above the screen. They tremble until she pulls them away, dropping them on top of his hand.

The video ends, and she swallows thickly. She can't stop the tears anymore, and she wipes at them in frustration as she fumbles with the tablet, pushing it onto his bedside table.

She holds her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. She takes deep breaths and holds them for as long as she can, but it doesn't help.

She takes a rasping breath and lifts one of his arms, cautiously sliding underneath. Only when his arm is around her again does she let herself cry. She cries harder than she has in a long time, sobs racking her body. She wants him to wake up and be okay again. She wants Steve to barge in and announce they've found a cure, that James will be fine. She can't stand seeing him so weak and helpless. It seems they're both living their nightmares - James has never been more vulnerable, and she's never felt more helpless.

It's with that depressing thought that she falls asleep, tears still staining her cheeks. Even with James in a coma, she feels safe enough that her slumber is deeper than it had been on the plane. She doesn't even stir as people come and go from the room.

Natasha comes into the room about an hour after Sharon falls asleep and drapes a blanket over her.

But it's Steve who eventually wakes her, one hand on her shoulder. "Sharon... Hey, you need to eat something..." It was later in the day. They had all decided to let Sharon sleep, but she obviously needs to be checked out as well. The nurses also needed to take more blood from James, and with her under his right arm, it was going to be about impossible to take blood without waking her up anyways.

Steve looks ragged as well. As much as James might insist that he's not Bucky, the man on the bed is (or used to be) his best friend. He can't abandon James, and he can't abandon Sharon.

She makes a sound in the back of her throat as she slowly wakes. She rubs her eyes and blinks up at him. "Steve?"

That's all it takes to have her eyes fully open again. She squirms out from beneath James's arm, looking at the blanket in confusion for a moment before hastily folding it and setting it at the foot of the bed. She'd use it to cover James, but she doesn't want him to overheat.

"Have they found anything?" Her stomach grumbles, but she ignores it. She's felt worse. James comes first.

"Not yet. They're still trying. But the nurses need to run more tests on him, see if he's responding any more than he was this morning. Let's go get some dinner, c'mon." He's not going to let her not take care of herself. He stands and reaches out to help her up. "If anything changes, they'll call us, I'm sure of it." She wants to take care of James, and so does he, but they also have to take care of each other.

She lets him help her up, but only because the protein bar has worn off and the room isn't staying as still as she'd like. She waits until she's got her bearings again before nodding and looking back to James. She has to remind herself that the nurses can likely be trusted; they and the Avengers were watching out for him while she did nothing.

"Somewhere close," she murmurs. Steve is likely thinking the same thing, but she wants to make it clear that it's non-negotiable.

She looks up at Steve, her eyes haunted. She can't imagine how much he must hate her. Sure, on the surface, they all understood that Sharon had been a prisoner. But she'd been James's partner. She should have done more. Fought harder.

She drops her eyes to the floor. "I don't have any money."

Steve nods. He reaches out to steady Sharon, one hand on her far shoulder. "That's alright, I do. We'll just go to the hospital cafeteria." He guides her out of the room and down the hall. Natasha's waiting for them near the entrance to the cafeteria, Clint also idling nearby.

Natasha moves forward first, walking on Sharon's other side.

There's no hate for Sharon in any of them. James had taken the poison instead of Sharon and he was alive. If she had been the one to get the dose, she would be dead. And who knew how James would have reacted to losing her. There might not be a country left anymore. They might have had to put him down themselves, if it wasn't possible to bring him back to being a rational human being. Which none of them wanted.

Natasha points towards the line then heads that way. She passes one tray to Sharon, then takes one for herself. It's not the greatest of food, but it's hot and Steve can load up a couple of trays for himself. They're also less than five minutes from James's room and nurses will come get them if anything happens.

Sharon accepts the tray, just like she accepts anything else they hand her. She's on autopilot, her thoughts elsewhere. She knows realistically that they'll know if James's condition changes, but he'd said specifically that he hoped to see her when he wakes.

Her outlook improves as soon as she bites into her hamburger. She groans and takes another, larger bite. It might taste like cardboard with toppings, but after getting food that was only meant to keep her alive and healthy, this is the closest thing she's tasted to heaven in a long time. After that, she barely pauses for breath until she's halfway through her fries.

She looks at the others, completely unapologetic. She points at the fries with a fry that's been drowned in ketchup. "Taste good." Having caught her breath, she starts inhaling the rest of her tray.

Still, her mind won't stop thinking of James. Maybe if she'd somehow tricked Salazar into sending the antidote. And what if the antidote doesn't work as well because of James's other enhancements? She shovels in some more fries to keep herself from voicing those thoughts.

"How'd our captain do? They tortured him pretty badly down there."

Natasha and Steve both watch Sharon start to eat, while Clint digs in about as eagerly as Sharon.

Steve turns his attention to his own food and Natasha says quietly, "He's doing fine. No lasting damage. Back with his family. He was severely dehydrated and anemic, but he's making - or made, I guess - a full recovery. He said he didn't realize James was blind until two days into the trip coming back here. Tripped over a coil of rope, I guess. James smacked his big nose pretty hard, but the captain said he fessed up right then and there."

Sharon takes a quick breath. It sounds almost like a gasp, but she holds it for several seconds longer than necessary as her eyes threaten to water. Damn it, James.

"Good," she says at last. "I was worried." Truth be told, she feels a little guilty that she hadn't thought about the boat's captain more; most of her thoughts had been about James.

She picks at her fries, worried again. Not for the first time, she wonders what else she could have done.

Natasha nods and returns to her food. But she's mostly picking at it, her attention still on Sharon. "How are you feeling, Sharon?" It was obvious that she was hungry and dirty and stressed, but Sharon was still Sharon. She was still Peggy Carter's niece. Stress didn't shut Sharon down the way it shut down other people unless, apparently, the person she was stressing about was James.

"Better?" She doesn't sound entirely convinced, but after a moment, she nods and says, in a firmer voice, "Much better."

She forces herself to eat a fry, not meeting Natasha's eyes. It's not entirely a lie, but it's not entirely true, either. She'd fought all her life to not be helpless, and yet here she is, helpless to help James. She'd spent weeks as a prisoner, helpless to help even herself, knowing that while she sat around and did nothing, the world was passing by. People needing to be saved from terrorists... and other things. It was difficult to focus on when more and more her thoughts had turned to James. There had been time in the first couple weeks when she'd been sure he was just a day away, that they'd found an antidote, and he was fine. And as the days had worn away...

She looks back to the hall and pushes the rest of her fries toward Clint. "I'm fine," she reassures Natasha, even though it's really for Sharon's own benefit. If she says it enough, she might start to believe it.

She turns her head toward Steve. "Ready to head back?" James may not like it, but Sharon knows that Steve won't abandon James. Between her and Steve, they'd known him for most of his non-brainwashed life. Neither of them would leave him when they knew he needed them.

Clint meets Sharon's eyes when she pushes the fries towards him, then he glances to Natasha before finally starting to eat Sharon's fries as well.

Steve nods. "Yeah, we can head back. You two stay and finish eating," he tells Natasha and Clint as he gets to his feet. He picks up his tray then reaches over for Sharon's. "Not sure if they're going to be done with him yet, it usually takes longer, but there's a shower here you can use. The nurses are pretty great about it."

"That bad, huh?" Her voice is lightly teasing, but she's already making plans to take the quickest shower she's ever had. Besides, she knows she looks bad. The clothes Natasha gave her on the plane can't hide the state of her hair or the flecks of blood she hadn't managed to remove since her last escape attempt. She can't imagine how she must smell to everyone else. She could only do so much with a bathroom sink.

She offers the others a grateful special - Natasha gets a longer one than Clint does; he gets more of a curious look. She doesn't know him as well, but she thinks after this, she may have to make a point of getting to know him.

She follows Steve back to the hall. "I'll pay you back for the meal, Steve. And I say that because I might also need a full change of clothes." She glances back toward James's room. "If we have time."

Which they probably do. James isn't going to wake from a medically-induced coma without her knowing before.

The antidote, though...

"Don't worry about it, Sharon. It wasn't that much, seriously. And I think Natasha already decided she was going to go get you some clean clothes after we all finished eating. Though then maybe you want to wait until she gets back."

Steve sighs a little, going back to James's room. There are still nurses inside hovering around him so it's clearly not time to go back in, but they should be done soon.

Sharon tries to go in, but it's clear that if she moves inside, she'll only be in the way. After several attempts, only to find herself stepping aside for the nurses, she follows Steve's lead and waits outside by the wall.

"I'm sorry I didn't do more," she murmurs. "I should have figured out a way to get Salazar to send the antidote. Or not-" She slides down the wall and sits on her calves. "Not nearly gotten hit in the first place. Found a way to get him airlifted out. Damn it. Something."

If he hadn't kicked her out of the way... If he hadn't needed to...

She runs her hands over her hair. How long until they had a cure?

She regrets eating as much as she had now. She feels sick.

"Sharon." Steve sighs and crouches down in front of Sharon, resting his hand on her shoulders. "You can't blame yourself. Nothing that happened was your fault. Salazar had you locked up in a cell, from what I heard from Natasha. And if James hadn't taken that poison, you would be dead." He squeezes gently. "We're going to get him back, Sharon. I promise. It's not just Tony and his guys, every single person who has any relevance at all to anything that can help him is working on it.

"They're going to find a cure. James is strong. He'll make it. He's getting better again." Steve sighed a little.

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