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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Dean remained quiet for a minute as he tried to think of the right answer. "How about...how about we sit here and talk for a minute and if you're good we can see about bringing you back to the quiet place for a little while. Now...I have to pass you on pretty soon, you have to go start training and being rebuilt into what kind of demon you'll be."

Lindsey made another one of his distressed noises and shook his head. "I can't..." he protested, not because he didn't want to, but he truly believed he couldn't. He was too broken for that, too dismantled, there was no way to put together the pieces enough to get the lawyer back.

And then there was the other fear... of leaving his anchor. "Don't... don't pass me..."

"Look dude I don't know how to train a crossroads demon, that's not my thing and no offense, I can't see you going into the torturing business.". He kept his voice soft as he continued to pet him, hoping it would calm the frightened soul. "I've seen them take much worse than you and fix them up, you'll be fine."

"You...." Lindsey wanted to say Dean didn't understand, but it was obvious that the demon did. It was what he did, his job. Yet Lindsey could only shake his head again.

"Let me stay... you. With you." Maybe later, when he didn't feel like he was falling apart at the seams, when he didn't keep questioning whether Dean was real or fake... like Darla... Oh Darla... Focus! Here... with Dean. Real Dean. Maybe later he could train to be whatever that demon that they wanted him to be.

Right now though, he leaned against Dean and tried to convince himself that the torture was over and this was real.

"What?". Dean pulled away just a little before he resumed his petting. "No. You wanna start cutting into people? I doubt it and that's about the only way you'd be of use to me."

"Switch.... later? I can..." Dean had seen him cut into people before, so long and many eons—... no, one year—... no, just three days. Three days ago. He shook his head and tried to get everything straight. It was what got him into this mess, wasn't it? Angel. And Darla...

He held a hand to his head like it hurt to think too much. "No... No, Angel... Darla..." He curled up against Dean. Dean was still here, "I'll be useful... Don't make me leave."

Dean just groaned, what the hell had he gotten himself into. "Darlas not here, and Angel, for the moment, is still dead. You're good.". Dean awkwardly gave him a pat on the back, he didn't know how to comfort...only take apart. "How the hell are you gonba be useful to me?

"Right... you're real." He gave a strained laugh as if he couldn't believe how silly he was. That was the intention anyway although it came out sounding more like a sob.

"I can help... cut into people?" He tried to sound hopeful even when he didn't know if he'd be able to do that. He just didn't want to leave the one who could keep him away from the rack. "I'll switch later... switch training..." He needed to get back on his feet first. Recover. Even he knew how messed up he was.

"No you can't, come on," dean rolled his eyes. "You need to start training, no torture there. It's not impossible to get put back on the rack, but it's pretty damn hard. You have to randomly start killing other demons or something. Point is no more torture for you. You can't cut into people and I don't need a secretary, so there isn't much you can do for me."

Lindsey's brows furrowed as he gave a little pout. "Why?" he asked, wondering if he was so broken that he couldn't even stab other people. "The anger..." It could help him focus it until he pieced more of himself together, right? He needed something mindless, something to help build confidence, something that was instinctual rather than required conscious thought.

"Yeah, the anger. We don't just rip into people, we break them in every sense of the word. There's an art to it. Honestly I don't take souls unless they've been on at least a decade and you don't want that, do you Lindsey?". Dean pouted and pulled Lindsey a little closer.

Just the thought of that made Lindsey whimper and bury his head against Dean's embracing hold. He shook his head desperately, he didn't want to be tortured again just so he could torture others.

"N-no..." His face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to put his messy thoughts into words. "But... I can't do the training.... Can't. My mind... pieces. I need focus. You. You give me focus. Need to anchor and you're real."

"Look around mr mcdoland," Dean whispered into the broken man's ear. "This is all real, no more games, okay? From now on its all real."

Lindsey tilted his head like a dog who just heard his master's whistle. "Real..." he repeated, and he did look around him, grimacing at the grisly environment they were in. And he said he wanted to torture people? Who was he kidding.

"Delay training? Me... like this. I can't." In his voice was the desperate but hopeless plea that Dean won't make him.

"I don't have anything for you to do....I got nothin," Dean shrugged, not knowing what to do. "What do you want linds?"

Lindsey hadn't done this much talking in ages, he suddenly wasn't sure of his words anymore. He paused and looked at Dean. "Do I have to choose? Start now?" The thought that he had to make use of all those skills he lost while his mind was in such a fragile state convinced him that it would only crush the shattered bits even more. "I can't think..." He put his hand over his ears. "Too loud here."

"Hey!" dean clapped his hands in front of lindseys face. "Enough! Get up, snap out of it. You wanna be a man then stand the fuck up, you wanna stay on the ground you can be somebody's little pet."

Lindsey flinched from being startled by the sudden clap. He looked up at Dean as complicated emotions warred across his face in battling for dominance. He was broken and the ground held safety, standing up meant they can bring him down again.

He looked down at his hand and his stump. "Is that a real option?" He whispered.

Dean frowned, now just looking confused. "Is what a real option?"

"You said..." Lindsey lowered his head again. "Being someone's pet." He was broken enough to consider it. It might give him a chance to recuperate, like what he needed.

Dean pulled away, looking beyond confused. He...must have misunderstood somehow. "I....yeah that happens but it's usually a punishment. It's degrating as fuck, you're pretty much treated like a hellhound. You don't wanna be that, just shut up and lets go.". He stood and waited for Lindsey to join him.

Lindsey didn't get up though, but stayed where he was seated on the ground. He was so tired right now, his mind was numb and his body still echoed with phantom pains of his tortures. For a while, he just wanted to hand over the reigns to someone else.

This was what he had been trying to tell the demon. He wasn't ready to do what he wanted him to. He might be, he could be, there was still anger in him enough for that if nothing else, but not yet. Not right now.

He looked up at Dean. "You'll take care of me... you won't hurt me?"

"You're not serious....nonono," he held up his hands and started to back off. "I don't need a puppy.". Cute as this one was. But the amount of shit he'd get from Sam wouldn't be worth it. "Demon pets are usually attack dogs or whores and always pathetic. At least pretend like you're better than that."

He laughed softly, his shoulders sagging around him. "I'm not pathetic enough?" While he was no longer a virgin, he wasn't a whore. He also was worthless for attacking. He couldn't even be either of those things, he had an abundance of pathetic.

"Give me a week..." He murmured, looking up at Dean with his eyes practically begging with how they shone. "I need..." A place away from this, somewhere to pull himself together, a way to redefine himself. "Just a week."

Dean growled in frustration. He couldn't give into this shit. "That's not how this goes! You break into a thousand pieces, we glue you back together into something useful and you go to work. You don't get breaks, you don't get to hide. You've been bitching for special treatment since you got here and I have to get yelled at about it every fucking step of the way."

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Does Dean need a puppy?

Haha, looks like he may get one

Just temporary. Maybe.

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