bakerstreet | BROKEN MEME

BROKEN MEME

broken meme

You may once have been a great hero, or a modest regular person. But something has pushed you past the limit. There's simply no going back to who you used to be. To be seen now, your friends, your family, would they even recognize you? Your savior was too late. The pain was too much. The pleasure was too intense. You've been short-circuited.

You're broken.

A. Post with the usual stuff! Note somewhere if there are any options you aren't okay with.
B. People can reply, with a roll for their characters or ask if you want to roll for yours in that thread.
C. Probably some triggers involved here. Read at your own discretion, etc.

1. Pain.
You've been pushed beyond your limits and become light-headed, 'floaty'. The sight of your own blood doesn't provoke a reaction anymore, and seeing a friend might cause you to smile, or talk strangely. You might not even recognize them. It doesn't hurt anymore. It's alright now.

2. Lust.
No, no, no became yes, yes, yes. Dignity and self-respect have faded, replaced by an insatiable and alien feeling of want. You've reached a point where shame doesn't even occur to you anymore. Your eyes seem out of focus and your smile doesn't look right. Look, I've made so many friends who like me...! Do anything to me if it feels good.

3. Shock.
What has been seen cannot be unseen. A revelation about a friend, a loved one, an enemy- something has shocked you in a way you can never reverse. It may change not only the way you look at someone or something, but also the way you see the rest of your life. I saw nothing, I saw nothing, I saw...

4. Oppressed.
What's it like outside my cage? Your spirit of rebellion or confidence has been cracked, and your rescuers might not be there in time to salvage what's left of your spirits. You've long since accepted that getting away from this oppression is impossible- Perhaps you've even become attached to it as the only way to live life. Yes, sir. No, sir. Sorry, sir.

5. Corruption.
Something has eroded you. You're not like you used to be. You're obsessive, your face is darker. You may even see who you were before as weak or useless. Whether it's a magic ring or Phazon infecting your body, you're going grimdark and it's looking a little too late to pull you out of it. This power is far greater than what I had before! To think I used to believe in justice!

6. Hysteria.
When you talk, you don't make any sense. Pure Charisma Break. Maybe you were a god stripped of your might, or you've suffered a terrible defeat. Either way your ego has snapped, leaving you a total mess and unable to function. But how could this be? How could I lose?!

7. Desperation.
Where before you were airy, confident, in control of yourself, you're now a ragged and fuming pile of hopeless anger. As a fighter you may have been careful or even graceful; now you swing wildly, strike without precision. You simply cannot accept the situation, cannot accept your own fall. It's not over! I'm still in control! I can still fix everything!

taken from here.

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Lindsey fell, but the fight had been torn out of him months ago. He wasn't even aware that he had company, or bothered to question why his bonds disappeared. Now all he did was remain on the ground, drawing his knees up and curling into a ball. Smaller target, less places to hurt.

With no end in sight, no hope of getting out, he knew only to endure while his mind emptied completely. There wasn't even anger left.

Dean beant down next him him, running his fingers lightly through his hair. "Hi Lindsey."

Lindsey whimpered and tucked his face down between his huddled arms. How often had a scenario started with a familiar voice saying those exact same words? He shook his head, that was the safest response.

"You don't wanna talk to me anymore? Is that it? That hurts.". He stroked the side of his cheek then pulled away. "Alright, I'll let them give you a break for awhile."

Lindsey didn't know what was real and what were illusions anymore, but he made a soft whining noise at the loss of the gentle touch anyway. Those were so rare —fake though, always fake— that he wanted more of it. But no, nononono, can't show want, can't show desire. Retreat... he clutched onto his legs tighter in response, retreat was the only way to escape the torment when no other escape was available.

"Oh hush," he mumbled and reached out to pet his hair again. "Nobody likes a whiner linds. You're better than that...well maybe anyway. Maybe not anymore."

The hand returned and Lindsey leaned lightly into it, rocking where he sat. A soft touch, nice touch.... that at any moment might turn into a merciless grip or start tearing his hair out.

He stopped his rocking abruptly and instead tried to process the words spoken to him. Once upon a time he would have gotten angry, or felt insulted, or ignored them and let them slide off him unharmed. Now he was afraid. He tried to figure out the new game and he peeked up a look... they never sent Dean to him before.

Why Dean? Maybe because the demon was linked to his only chance of salvation... but he pissed the demon off long, long, long time ago. Dean left him. Was this real or fake? But he disappointed him again.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He buried his face back into his arms again. He still only had one hand... which was better than no hands, no feet.

"Good," Dean nodded, sitting down on the stone floor beside him. "That's very good, you should be. You were rude to me, hurt my feelings.". He pouted but continued to pet him gently.

Dean —fake? real?— stayed and Lindsey instantly leaned slightly against him. While he could, before he had to go back to apathy in order to avoid the pain. He didn't want anymore pain.

His eyes started to stream tears even though it was useless. Useless, useless. Nothing got him out of this hell.... except Dean. Real Dean could get him out, but that was ages ago. Real Dean left, he lied and left... as did Angel, and Darla... oh god Darla. Everyone was disappointed in him and left him to his suffering.

He whispered the words, "I'm sorry..." like a mantra.

He wrapped an arm around him, he was kind of cute this way. Maybe Sam would let him keep him this way...he always wanted a dog. No, big plans for this one. Shame. "I got over it, just don't do it again."

Those big plans will be long in waiting as Lindsey was in no shape to do anything. When Dean actually wrapped his arms around him, his first instinct was to flinch and cower back, but then no pain came and he dared to tuck his his head against Dean's shoulder.

Curled up there, he cried softly in Dean's arm. Maybe this was the real Dean after all. Maybe the demon came back for him... Maybe... maybe... So many doubts.

"I won't, I won't.... I'm sorry. So sorry... I won't."

"Glad to hear it," he placed a soft kiss on the top of the broken man's head. "You think you're ready to get outta here? See if we can put you to work?"

Lindsey was nodding frantically before the rest of Dean's question caught up to him.

"W-work?" After a year of being turned inside out, with his brain spending more time as floor decor than actually being used, he didn't know if he could do what work was required of him. He didn't know he was capable of it, or would even be able to catch up on a normal functioning level.

Yet fearing that he would be disappointing his possible, probable, maybe —likely?— savior, Lindsey shook his head but didn't dare to day 'no'. He didn't want to be left behind again... he couldn't... there was barely anything left of him right now. He forcefully tried to nod his head yet the fear that he wasn't good enough made him break out in tears again.

"...You... Real? Are you real?"

"Damn right real. Jesus dude....I know this year hasn't been a cake walk but come on, I did thirty and had to immediatly start working, you'll be fine. So we got a deal? All this stops and you go monster?". He smiled and raised his hand to shake Lindsey's.

Somewhere, buried deep down in the shattered remains of his old personality, a soft voice pipes up, "... Can I get my hand back? And body?" But it was more of a whisper than a request, soft enough to be blown away by the first scream of a damned soul.

Dean just raised an eyebrow and pulled his hand away from the injured soul. "You really sure you wanna start making requests right now?"

At the question and the withdrawn arm, all signs of the old lawyer died and Lindsey instantly drew tighter into his ball. "No... I'm sorry... Please, I'm really sorry... Don't leave me here."

"You sure about that?". He crossed his legs. "You sure you don't need a little more time?"

Lindsey was sobbing openly again. Something about Dean could always break down whatever defense mechanism he had on, probably from being the one who held his fate in his hands.

He shook his head rapidly and stayed in his tight ball. "I'm sorry," he repeated, over and over. He buried his face into his arms, the words still murmured on his lips and started rocking himself once more.

He stood up and held a hand out to him. "You gonna be good then? Do what you're told so you don't have to go back on the rack? You don't wanna go back on there."

Lindsey started nodding his head in reaction then changed it to shaking his head in answer. "Good... I'll be good. No more.... No..." He looked up hesitantly at the hand held out to him.

This was the deciding moment... real or fake, truth or lies?

He reached up with his only hand and took it, half expecting the whole thing to fade away as an elaborate scenario of his torture.

"Good boy," he accepted Lindsey's hand, his own balm burning the other man as it sealed his face. Still, he looked more cleaned up. And he might feel a strange tingling in his nub as the hand slowly began to rebuild itself. "Let's get outta here, shall we?"

Lindsey cried out in shock when he felt something in his truncated arm. The burning sensation on his hand didn't surprise him, by now he was used to pain, but this... this tingling in his arm was different.

He didn't question though, but just nodded his head obediently to Dean. The way he looked at the demon was, even dare he be... slightly hopeful? He'll go anywhere with Dean as long as it took him away from here.

"Good," he turned and started to walk off, expecting Lindsey to follow. Doubting the man wanted to be wandering around almost naked he snapped his fingers to replace his rags with simple black pants and a black tshirt. "I'd stay close if I were you, you don't wanna get lost.". He continued onward, smiling at the echoing screams of the damned still on the rack.

"Th-thank you," Lindsey whispered when Dean replaced his torn rags with something actually representing real clothing. He was truly sincere with the heartfelt thanks, he hadn't worn anything, even as simple as this, in nearly a year.

As Dean walked on, Lindsey was never more than a step or two behind. He kept his head down and wasn't need to be told twice to keep close to the demon. Try as he may, he couldn't completely block out the screams and cries of those suffering around him, where not too long ago he was one among their ranks, so he tried to speed up his steps instead, keeping as close to Dean as possible without stepping on his shoes.

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