#lost in my mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

befuddled-calico-whump · 1 year

Text

Window Shopping (Tower: Day 212)

for Angstpril, Day 15: Lost in My Mind

cw: imprisonment, manhandling, dehumanization

previous ///// masterlist /////

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

Out on the horizon, the skyline sits like jagged teeth

A city waiting to devour you, spit your bones into the street

And the wolves in the towers are watching in wait—

Hm. Bait, fate, gate, grate, hate…

Lex's poems had gotten shorter lately. Sharper. He'd been finding it more and more difficult to compose verses about the things he missed, and couldn't tell if it was because it hurt too much, or because he was forgetting them.

The latter didn't seem possible. How could he forget something like the sun? The maple trees in the city park? The little coffee shop that was run by a woman he knew recognized him, but never said anything to the cops?

But every poem he tried came out flat.

'the sun above is shining gold'

Yeah, no shit. But it wasn't shining on him anymore, and that detail overshadowed anything lovely he could come up with.

The sun was bright, leaves danced when they fell, fall trees burned brighter than his fire, and the coffee lady's name was Sophie. Didn't matter. He'd never see any of them again.

To his right, Lex heard the mechanical click of the door being unlocked, and tried to breathe through the fear that suddenly seized him. It had only been four meals since wash day, ten left until the next one, and aside from that, the door only opened for something bad.

Usually that something was the guard, Wade. Coming in at random to 'take care of him', or drag him up the stairs to the cold tile room where he'd be left in the hands of violent strangers.

Grabbing and tearing and laughing at cries

The hand that bruises the hope that dies

Which would it be today? Wade's administrations were unwanted, demeaning at best, but he'd take that over the uncertainty of the room upstairs.

When the door opened, it was a pair of guards Lex didn't recognize. They pulled the door closed after them, but not before he caught a glimpse of a suit-clad gaggle of people waiting in the hall.

Was it another tour? That he could bear, endure the humiliation of being put on display to avoid what would happen if he didn't. But they'd made a big show of cleaning up the cell right before the council's visit, so that couldn't be it, could it?

"Get up." The guards moved to either side of him, forcing him to his feet when he didn't move fast enough.

The question of what was going on rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down. If they wanted to tell him, they'd tell him. If not, he'd only be wasting his breath.

A cuff was locked around his ankle, and he felt it activate. The trickling heat of his power, the part that hadn't been silenced by the cuff he already wore, went cold, sending a chill through him. Hands moved roughly across his torso, down his legs, as if searching him for weapons or contraband he had no way of accessing. Lex stared at the stone wall across from him, and waited for it to end.

Things that reach out in the dark

Snuff and smother any spark

"He's clear." The guard who spoke went to open the cell door, leaving her partner to stand next to Lex.

He didn't even turn his head as more people stepped into the cell, only able to see them out of his peripheral. There were six or seven of them, all talking at once in light, conversational tones.

"Smells like shit. Couldn't they have cleaned up before our arrival?"

"Is it always so dark? Guess it saves on the electrical bill."

"Yikes. This one's scrawny and damaged."

"I'm sure someone could find a use for him. Terrence?"

"You know I don't go for brunettes." Laughter.

Lex tried to tune them out, eyes locking onto a crack in the wall and following its path.

A fracture in an old foundation

Lightning-patterned stone damnation

"What's the deal here?" A question directed at the guards.

"Alexei Wilder. He was an assassin. Cinder. He's the one Overkast 'killed'." The answer was met with sounds of recognition from the group, rising like a hum.

"I'm not sure any of us is in the market for an assassin that's been… disarmed." That one got a chuckle from everyone.

"Shall we move on?" prompted another voice. The response was shuffling of shoes on stone, moving away. Lex felt a little of the tension ease out of him.

Moving on. Leaving him alone. Alone in the dark was better than unpredictable hands.

But the guard beside him didn't move, piping up a small "Sir?" as a gray suit stepped in front of Lex, obscuring the cracks in the wall.

Not alone, not yet.

He stared past the figure, finding a new imperfection in the stone to follow, by now so familiar with it he knew each jagged turn.

Chase the road, and taste the sky

The gravel sings your lullaby

Hands stretched out from the gray suit, pushing back his hair, knuckles brushing his cheekbone with a foreign gentleness that almost scared him more than violence could.

Autumn comes to burn the trees

And winter trails to snatch the leaves

"See something you like, Mr. Fox?" the remaining guard said.

"Unfortunately not something suited for my needs at this moment." A smile, scant light reflecting off white teeth. "But I'm sure that will be remedied with time."

And then the hands were gone and the door was closing and all the cracks in the wall could be seen again. Lex closed his eyes, willing himself to breathe slow. When he opened them, it was like no one else had even been there.

Out on the horizon, the skyline sits like jagged teeth

A city waiting to devour you, spit your bones into the street

And the wolf in the tower is watching in wait

Once his jaws snap shut there will be no escape.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing

#angstpril 2023 #fic #wildefire #day 15 #lost in my mind #woah we're halfway the-ere #excuse the rhymes lex is a poet but im a lyricist #whump #assassin whump #assassin whumpee #prison whump #manhandling #tw dehumanization

26 notes · View notes

lilacwriter07 · 1 year

Text

Did you ever imagine your favorite feral dark/yandere couple, who just murdered people suddenly start to dance the tango between the bodies ?

Can’t be just me right ? 😭🤣

Like Vintaker, UraIchi or KakaObi are just perfect for it, perhaps Hannigram as well you know .

#lost in my mind #yandere couples #can't be just me right ?#me being silly again #vintaker #uraichi #kakaobi #hannigram

45 notes · View notes

heysoulsistahh · 1 year

Text

I wish I could make you feel my love.

#me #lost in my mind #all I know is absolutely nothing

40 notes · View notes

elizastjude · 8 days

Text

Here I am, just feeling so lost. I'm completely out of place here.

I guess when you settle for a relationship that is less than you deserve, you face challenges that leave you feeling alone and just downright terrible.

That's me right now.

#lost #spilled thoughts #my words #my writing #writing #lost in my mind

2 notes · View notes

pls-end-me · 4 months

Text

,,What do you want to

be when you grow up?"

- Good enough.

5 notes · View notes

beautifully-tragic22 · 1 year

Text

I miss feeling happy in my own skin. Like knowing who I am and confidently being able to be me. I wish to be like that but how do I find out who I truly am? I am struggling with finding myself; I’ve hidden the real me so far below in hopes of never having to be her again. But I miss her and the life she could’ve had. I’m ready to go through everything that’s through that door to find her.

16 notes · View notes

awaytobeunshaken · 1 year

Text

Angstpril 2023 - Day 15: Lost in My Mind

“You should ask him,” Orym says with a nudge.

“Hm?” Ashton startles from where he’d been spaced out while looking across the recent battlefield, much of the group in recovery mode. “About the dunabis thing.” He’s pointing at the red-haired wizard. “I saw your reaction back when he was explaining it; you picked up on it, too.”

Ashton’s first instinct is still to brush it off, but they know that’s stupid; they’re never gonna figure out how all this works or what that stuff did to them, not if Milo didn’t even know what it was.

“You’ll come with me? I don’t even know where to start with something like this.”

“I mean, I don’t know that I’d do much better, but sure.”

“You can at least people better than I can. So in case I’m making no sense…”

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha.”

They approach the pair from Wildemount, and Caleb stands to greet them. “Hello, friends. It was good to see you return. You fought well.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks. Uh… you too. So, what you were saying about those potions that these guys were dealing with, the duna-stuff… you were talking about manipulating, like, space and time and probability?” Caleb nods. “I do that shit. Not on purpose,” he clarifies, pointing to the glass in his head, “but that’s what this is, long story, but some of that stuff ended up in here, and it makes weird shit happen when I’m fighting.”

“I fucking told you it looked like a Beacon!” Beauregard shouts, jumping to her feet.

“So you are aware of what causes your abilities, and while of course this is something I would be eager to study further, I’m curious as to what you are hoping to learn.”

“I—I guess…” This is where Ashton struggles. He wants answers, always, but he’s not sure which ones, or what they would mean or what they would do for him. Just that so much of their life, so many important memories have vanished or been locked away, it would be nice to know something. But how do you put that into words, especially to someone you’ve barely met?

ao3

Thankfully Orym managed to step into the conversation. “I think what Ashton might be looking for is just some insight into how it might have happened. Or how it all works?” He glanced at Ashton, and they nodded their confirmation that he was on the right track. “They’ve got some memory issues, also…” Another glance, this time to make sure he’s not overstepping. Ashton nods again. “Related to the accident where they got that. And we’re not sure if they’re related to the injury, or the potion, or—”

“Or if your head was deliberately fucked with?” Caleb addresses Ashton directly. “I understand your concern. This is truly a unique occurrence…” He paused as Beauregard cleared her throat beside him. “And while it will be fascinating to learn more, such investigations will only go as far as you are comfortable with. That said, considering the subject matter, I do want to reach out to a colleague—”

“Colleague?” Beauregard repeats with a snort. “They’re practically married.”

“Well, we don’t all feel the need to advertise our personal relationships to near strangers. As I was saying,” and he turns back to Ashton. “A colleague, whom I am very close with, and who is far more studied in this school of magic than I.”

Ashton shrugs. “If you think they can figure out what’s going on up there…”

Caleb nods, pulls a stone from his pocket, and mutters something into it. Shortly afterward a blond elf appears some fifty yards away, approaching so smoothly he might as well be floating. When he reaches the group, he leans in close to Caleb to give him a kiss on the cheek, then as he leans away Ashton watches the glamour dissolve to reveal a handsome drow.

“Ashton, this is Essek, the colleague I mentioned.”

Ashton doesn’t move to take the drow’s offered hand, but Essek barely seems to notice. “This is not an application I would ever have considered,” he says, leaning close; not quite touching the glass but near enough that Ashton can feel his breath on their skin. “Not that it’s one I would care to repeat; it would be horribly invasive for one thing, and I think the events here have demonstrated the dangers of easy access to dunamis in its concentrated form—“

“You lost me about half a sentence in. Can you figure what that shit is doing to me?”

“I can try. Tell me what you have learned so far.”

Ashton does, starting with the relevant bits from the accident, leaving out the whole ‘left for dead’ part but not bothering to cover up the burglary aspect. Essek wouldn’t have bothered showing up here in disguise if he didn’t have some sketchy shit of his own to hide from. They tell Essek about the random effects they have on the space around them when they fight, about the trips Imogen and Fresh Cut Grass have taken into their head, and the multitude of other Ashton’s Imogen recognized on the most recent attempt.

“She saw your other selves. The whole array of possibilities.”

“Yeah, something like that. She said they were all kind of spinny, like… uh, the prism thing?” He starts rhythmically tapping his head. “With the…” and now he twirls his fingers in the air.

“Kaleidoscope,” Orym supplies.

“Yeah,”

“Would it be possible for me to accompany your friend on one of her expeditions?”

“Thing is, last time she almost couldn’t get out again.”

Caleb raises a knowledgeable eyebrow. “You will need an anchor then, a tether. If Essek can accompany your friend into your thoughts, I can serve as that anchor. However, I would recommend waiting until after a night’s rest, as most of us are rather spent for the day. And if you are willing to wait, I can conjure us a place to stay for the evening.”

Ashton has seen some crazy shit in the past several months, but the tower almost immediately ranks up there. The entryway and some of the public sitting areas are much too pretentious for their taste, but the kitchen is homey enough, and the sleeping quarters might be the most relaxing he’s seen since the Krook house. A room large enough for all of them, with an arrangement of curtains that can be configured for privacy or not, strewn with cots and hammocks and pillows and beanbags. “I would normally try to provide private quarters, but I don’t exactly know you well enough to tailor a room to any of you specifically, so I’ve improvised.”

“This is fucking perfect!” Ashton exclaims, thumping Caleb on the back. “One question, though… I’m heavier than I look; the whole rock thing, y’know. Will those…” He waves a hand toward one of the hammocks.

Caleb shrugs and raises a corner of his mouth. “Magic tower.”

Ashton relaxes into the hammock and watches as the ropes barely strain under their weight. They’re more comfortable than they’ve been in years, nearly weightless, the hammock providing just enough support that they don’t feel like they’re falling. “Kick-ass magic tower, man,” he mutters as he drifts off.

~~~

The next morning, Ashton is quiet again as he watches the two wizards prepare their spells. It’s strange, seeing the physical components behind the magic; most of Imogen’s or Laudna’s or FCG’s stuff just sort of happens, though admittedly he’s not usually paying close enough attention to notice otherwise. But watching Caleb unspool his metallic thread and connect himself to Imogen, then Essek doing the same to Caleb, is somewhat mesmerizing, and helps Ashton to dissociate a bit from what they know is coming. They want this, they’ve asked for it, but that’s never managed to quell their hesitation toward it actually happening. “You ready?” Imogen asks, reaching a hand toward him, the other hand holding on to Essek. Ashton nods, and she reaches forward…

…And he’s no longer in the sitting room of the tower. He’s a child in Hishari again, sitting quietly for lessons, still ignorant so far of what is to come. (“It really is quite similar to looking into a beacon,” Essek is saying.) Threads of all colors spin out from him, some towards blurry possibilities, some more clear: an Ashton with warm brown skin and curly hair and gold earrings standing before a still-intact village; the body of a small child lying unmoving in the ruins, whose face Ashton doesn’t try to see; and the familiar path, hurtling through an expanse of soft earth and mud through to the desert outside of Bassuras.

Here again the myriad of threads, of paths, of so many different people finding them, or none at all, of Ashton winding up in the orphanage, or being left to live on the streets, or encountering a caravan that takes him in and carries him far away from the city. So many paths spinning away from the orphanage, from the whole of Bassuras, points of light twinkling a few feet away, or several miles, to the other side of Marquet or perhaps even further. But Ashton follows the path he knows to Jrusar, to Jiana Hexum’s manor, and Milo dragging what’s left of them back to the Krook house, sometimes with Ashton managing to limp along beside them, sometimes with one or two or all of their friends coming along, too; far, far too many that end with the shards of a lifeless body scattered across the street.

And to another familiar moment, waking up one afternoon and deciding to take Fresh Cut Grass out into the city. But when they get onto the street it’s later than Ashton remembers. Maybe it took a little longer to drag himself out of bed; maybe he was just moving slower that day than normal. Or maybe the day in his memory was a pretty good one, and the other versions were normal. Fuck. They turn back toward the hollow but can only see the single thread stretching behind them. And the way ahead is again a tangled mess of color. Ashton hurries through the streets, but all the threads, all the possible lives before him are mushed together, denser, like they’ve got less room to move. Because they do. This is only a few months before the present. It’s hard to find their way through the tangle. He hears the sound of fighting and rushes toward it, arriving in time to see the rest of what would become Bells Hells, significantly more beaten and bruised than Ashton remembers, following Bertrand Bell into the inn.

“Fuck.” He sinks to the ground.

“Ashton, what’s wrong?” Fresh Cut Grass places a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“I never meet them. I followed the wrong thread and I’m never gonna meet them.” Ashton closes their eyes to the scene and starts filing through memories that are thankfully still there: talking with Laudna as they walk through the sandstorm, blushing as Fearne plants a kiss on their forehead, so many flowers randomly gifted from Orym.

“I don’t understa—” and then FCG freezes, the street around him freezes, and he hears Imogen’s voice in his ear.

“Ashton? Are you okay?”

“Got here too late,” they mutter. “Missed the fight. Should be in there with you right now.” They point at the Spire by Fire.

“You were, though,” she explains. “We’re all still with you out there.”

“The paths in here,” Essek adds, “are… not illusions, precisely, but discarded timelines. All the things that could have happened, but didn’t. It is the magic of the beacon that allows it to extrapolate from all those possibilities, to… at any rate, the path that you remember is still the true one.”

“But why here, again,” Imogen asks. “Weren’t you curious about the others?”

“A little,” he admits, “and a lot of those paths seemed much better, or at least no worse, than the one I ended up on. But somehow I couldn’t imagine anything but this.”

“I saw many of the divergences on our way here,” Essek says. “Your life has not been an easy one. There must be something very important on this path for you to choose it again.”

Ashton glances at the Spire by Fire, at the shapes still silhouetted in the window. “There is.”

And they take his hands, and Essek whispers something into his sleeve, and Ashton feels a tug, and blinks, and opens his eyes to see the tower’s sitting room again. And Orym is resting a hand on their arm and slips a little blue flower behind their ear, and Fearne is sitting at his feet, and Laudna and Chetney are sitting across the room, collaborating on some sort of project, and Ashton is home.

#angstpril2023 #critical role #fanfic #day 15 #lost in my mind #cr3 #ashton greymoore #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #cr fic #my fic

10 notes · View notes

phoenixthemenace · 1 year

Text

Till Death

Day 15. Lost In My Mind-

It amazed both men how quickly and easily they slipped into friendship during the training course. What surprised them more was how well they worked as a team, able to silently communicate almost from the start.

At the graduation party, Roy surprised himself as much as Johnny when he brought up the idea of their being partners in the squad. Johnny’s half cocky, half bashful 'he needs me' warmed his insides.

But it also made him start thinking.

Dixie startled Roy when she placed a cool hand on his arm.

"Oh, I'm sorry Roy. Is everything okay?"

"Yes," He laughed. "I was just…lost in my mind."

"Anything serious."

Roy's eyes betrayed him as he looked over at Johnny. Dixie smiled knowingly.

"Well. For what it's worth, I think you'll make great partners."

Roy gave her a startled look, but she just patted his arm and moved on to the next group. Roy squared his shoulders. He had some things to clear up with Johnny.

"Hey Junior." He said quietly. "Got a minute?"

"Sure Pally." He flashed his grin at the others and followed Roy to a quiet corner.

"I meant what I said about teaming up." Roy began.

"I know." Johnny said, his brow furrowed, sensing the impending 'but'.

"I just want to clear some things up. Things that I think still stand between us."

Johnny’s expression closed, his eyes shuttered.

"I want to apologize about what happened that last time I hid in your room. And to thank you for saving me all those times."

Johnny didn't reply or look up.

"I…when I woke up, and we were in each other's arms…" They both glanced around nervously. "And realized we were both."

He blushed and gestured vaguely. Johnny’s expression was blank, but flushed.

"Well…Anyway, I was afraid. Confused. I reacted badly and I'm sorry."

They stood in awkward silence for a while. Johnny’s eyes were downcast, but his jaw muscle twitched. Roy sighed.

"I went out that night with Joanne and tried…" Roy hung his head in shame. "I tried to prove that I wasn't…there wasn't…that I was a man. I was so ashamed of myself and confused. So I enlisted. I met another medic in 'Nam and we…We were going to build a life together. But he was killed on patrol."

Roy's throat was too tight to continue. Johnny raised his blazing eyes to Roy's.

"Why are you telling me this?" His voice was low and furious. "You threw me on the floor and called me a freak. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

Roy couldn't answer, but his agonized eyes spoke volumes.

"Am I supposed to be happy that it was okay we woke up like that?" Johnny ground out. "That we felt- feel like that?"

He shook his head, spun on his heel and headed to the door. A hand on his arm stopped him, and he found himself staring down into Dixie's concerned eyes.

"Don't let something that happened when you were kids ruin what you have now." She said softly.

Johnny glanced up into the eyes of Joe Early, who stood close behind her. Joe nodded. They saw the eyes of that sad, lonely, frightened kid they met at his stricken aunt's bedside.

"Yes ma'am." He said softly. "I just need a minute."

"I'll walk you out." Joe said, guiding Johnny gently through the door.

I'll take care of Roy, Dixie thought. It's time he learned a few things about his partner.

#angstpril2023 #Day 15 #lost in my mind #emergency!#fic

7 notes · View notes

sinvulkt · 1 year

Text

Angstpril: 15. LOST IN MY MIND - slave past

@whumpril - 15. Isolation

I woke up to a dark room and the song of the Force. It soothed my aches, warmed my chills, healed my wounds. There was no danger here, it whispered to me. Pain and suffering raged nearby, but between these enclosed walls, there was only calm and peace.

Under it’s soft lullaby, I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

So I did.

✯ ✯ ✯ ꒰ঌ ⚔ ໒꒱ 𓆩⚔𓆪 ꒰ঌ ⚔ ໒꒱ ✯ ✯ ✯

My body rested and rested, until survival instinct took over the grogginess, and I began to wonder about my surroundings. My questions were quickly answered: I was in a 4x4 square room, devoid of any window, trapped between heavy walls and a heavier door. From the humid atmosphere and the fresh air, I guessed I was underground.

When I reached out to the Force, it felt both too bright and dampened by the distance between me and the surface. A strange sore had overcome my sense during my time in the collar, like being put into a well-lit room after weeks of darkness. I played with its current, enjoying the sensation of free energy running through my fingers.

By the thunderous wind, I had missed its power!

With the Force at my side… it felt like nothing was impossible.

(And yet, I didn’t need to hear its whispers to know I was still trapped.)

The room was solid enough that no Force Blast would break through its walls. Furthermore, even in the unlikely case I successfully left it… I couldn’t beat all the guards outside.

My memory of the previous hour remained fuzzy, void of sense, except for the doctor's words that rang in my head. He had said I’d need a few days with the Force to regain my full strength… but I felt better already. Surely they didn’t intend to leave me here any longer than a few hours? My feathers flattened against my skin.

(I had heard of what isolation did to some slaves).

✯ ✯ ✯ ꒰ঌ ⚔ ໒꒱ 𓆩⚔𓆪 ꒰ঌ ⚔ ໒꒱ ✯ ✯ ✯

The hours passed, and no one came. Hunger clenched my stomach, but there was no food to calm it. My throat felt raw from the times I cried for the door to open, but there was no water to soothe it.

Even the Force had abandoned me. After so long without a proper connection to it, it felt foreign, slippery, dancing just at the edge of my fingertip but never in my palm. I yearned for the warmth of the Light, but it seemed hesitant, repulsed even to be brushed by my filthy hands.

Frustration became anger as I tried to Force it under my held, desperate for any form of stimuli in this dark, empty room, but it only drove it away from my grasp. The Dark was here as well, but I knew better than to touch it in such a dangerous place. Its impulses would make me defy my jailors, and this was the shortest road towards death.

I stayed there an eternity. My hooks broke from scratching the door. My knuckles bruised from knocking desperately on the too-narrow walls. My lungs hurt from howling, be it just to hear my own voice.

Nothing felt real.

For all I knew, nothing was real.

At some point, a glass of water was thrown into the room, and I was never so happy to lick the dirty ground. The soiled water felt heavenly on my too-dry tongue.

When the door opened, and the Governor second made a disgusted frown at the sight - or smell - beholding him, I was all too happy to put the Force-suppressant collar around my neck.

The sturdier chains were those you refused to fight against.

I only realised my mistake the next time I met with Scel, and he cried for the Force in longing.

I learnt, later, that being cut from the Force was what had caused my fever. Inevitably, a few weeks later, I felt ill again. And every time, the governor second made sure I regretted being connected back to the Force as I recovered, as he trapped me in the Room for days.

The first time, I screamed and cried. The second time, I layed down for hours, letting the Force wash through me. The third time, it showed me the outside world. My body may have been trapped in the dark room, without any stimuli to distract it, but my mind traveled kilometers. As long as the room was dark and empty, I became something else. For a few hours, I was a runyip, a womp rat, a bogwings... By a few months, I could maintain the strange form of meditation for the whole length of my isolation without taking a break. By one year, I knew most of the fauna and flora of the planet intimately.

Always, I made sure to scratch the walls, to appear delighted when cutting myself from the Force, to struggle until the last moment when exhaustion dragged me down to announce that the heavenly hours with the Force were near. My captors remained unaware all throughout, that what had been made for torture, was the time I was the freest of them all.

The only time when I wasn’t a slave.

(I never had a good poker face. But let it not be said, that I was a bad liar.)

#angstpril2023 #starwars #fanfiction #day15 #lost in my mind #whumprilday15 #whumpril2023 #isolation #the amazing adventures of excentrics jedi #taaoej #star wars #sinvulkt fics #star wars fanfiction

6 notes · View notes