#that feel when you literally cannot get the idiot in charge to remember theyre in charge
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This is a very long reflection post so read if you want to. It’s very word vomity though so watch out
I’m doing an no-buy year, which has quickly morphed into a low-buy year. I’m 21, my partner is 22, and we’re still coming into our own. How can we do a no-buy year when our essentials include measuring spoons and stuff for work? I’m still building my wardrobe. They’re still building theirs. It’s not possible to stave off all buying, in all honesty. However, the low-buy year is going well. Rocket Money is the tool we’re using to keep track of spending. The app isn’t perfect (I’m a freelancer, so keeping track of my income is a nightmare) and i make a lot of purchases that I just charge them 1/2 for, so I’m not sure how much of the spending is accurate. But i think it’s going well. The issue is it takes a lot of time. So much fucking time. To plan out grocery lists and crock pot meals and lunches and strategically buying wardrobe choices. It also sucks when I buy pants for example and they just don’t fucking fit. I want to be body neutral, and appreciate my body for all that it can do, but it’s hard when I try to express that via my dollars and it blows back in my face. Even big bud press pants have their issues, and theyre the only pants i wear regularly
I’m started to realizing i can’t have everything i want in terms of what i want to do. There literally is not enough time. Every day i finish 99% of what i want to leaves me physically wrecked. My brain cannot fit that much stuff in it. I can’t read the books I want because i want to give them time/attention and i just fucking can’t. I hate delegating tasks and asking for help, and when my PCP tried to send me to collections i literally begged my mom to help me. I’m glad she/my stepmom were able to, but that was such a massive blow. Hyper independence is a fucking joke, which sucks.
I need to write more. It makes me feel better. I have commissions to finish. But writing fills me with dread because i hate everything I write. I just want to write and finish things but I literally fucking cannot. I remember watching some lawyer’s expertise talk on a video platform my mom paid for and he was like “writers write despite everything.” I literally can’t fucking do that. I think everyone thinks i have more time than I do. The principal for the school im student teaching at wants to put me in the substitute system so I can work “on my off days.” The 2.5 days I’m not in the classroom i am either at work or in class. Im in student government. I volunteer. What fucking off days. The weekend?? When you’re not open?? BFFR. Idk how I’m going to make up the two snow days we had. Lying, probably. Idk if this is sustainable but i don’t know what my other option is. Everything is too expensive.
I need to buy a pill holder for my Ritalin/caffeine pills/pain killers. I just need to find one with labels bc im an idiot.
The little stuff keeps falling through the cracks and becoming big stuff. I think i need to make a notion page where I track how often things actually take and rate their energy usage bc this is becoming a problem. I just cannot girlboss and work nonstop for 12 hours. My brain literally cannot handle that.
I need to sleep more. But to do that i need to do enough “non-necessary things” to give my brain a break.
I really need my Ritalin back. I was not super regulated to begin with, but the Ritalin helped so fucking much. I could get everything done and sleep at a reasonable time bc my brain was sufficiently worn out in all areas. Im self medicating with caffeine rn but Jesus Christ i want my meds back.
Anyway. My goals for February are to track expenses weekly (sun-sat) and do daily habits in my notebook and not notion bc i constantly forget to do that shit. We’ll see. I wish i was better at this stuff & i wish i was more forgiving with myself & i wish i didn’t feel the need to be The Best all of the time.
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Breaking Furnace - Solitary Chapter 7
Chapter 7: Rules Are Made to be Broken
Table of contents!
All of my writing!
After this, there is only one more chapter in Solitary! I’ve got a great line up for the In-Between Collection between this and Death Sentence. One of them will just be a series of snapshot scenes of Connor chilling in the In-Between with Virtuoso and the splinter.
(I’ve had to change quite a bit of formatting to post this on tumblr. If you want to read this chapter with its original formatting, you can do so HERE.)
Remember that this is a daydream taking place in the Escape From Furnace universe, so keep that in mind if you haven’t read EFF.
Word count: 3503
Content warnings for this chapter:
Amnesia
Self harm
Feel free to message me if I’m missing any.
The final chapter will be up on September 14th at 7pm PST.
~-S-~
I rewind the feed again in the hopes that how they got out might become clearer.
Every monitor turns to static, white noise obscures everything useful. I check before the glitch to find nothing out of the ordinary. After a four minute period without video, the three inmates duck into the infirmary to free two of their coconspiritors.
There’s no sign of anyone entering or leaving Cross’s office after we left to spar. They just stopped working for four minutes.
I let it play this time to track the five of them through the compound. They don’t explore or hesitate once, they run directly back to the cavern beyond the South Door. Back to where Cross found them.
They pause next to the cave wall.
And they’re gone.
I furrow my brows and roll it back to watch it again.
The feed’s too blurry to see exactly what it is, but there must be an opening in the wall here. They duck inside and seem to vanish altogether. They’ve disappeared into the tunnels again.
On my way out, I trigger my com.
“I know where the inmates are. I’m in pursuit.”
A response I don’t expect comes immediately.
“Stay where you are,” Cross demands. “They will be returning shortly.”
I stop at the fork in the hall that leads to either the infirmary or the southern door. I think about it. How can he be so sure? Not that they’ll get the punishment they deserve, but that they’ll be back?
I tap the com.
“I won’t be long.”
I rip the com from my collar and drop it on the ground before setting off toward the tunnels. I still hear the static, a tinny scream, but I don’t look back. I can ask forgiveness later. Whether it will be granted is questionable, but leaving the inmates out there isn’t something I can do.
Further down the hall, the echo of another com approaches. Cross’s voice snakes toward me, the apparent distance doing nothing to mute the fury in his voice.
“... south door, to be detained on sight. Do not let her leave the compound.”
I pause and glance at a doorway halfway between where I stand and the corner I’m approaching. I consider running for a split second. I could hide in the room, stay out of sight. The thought is infantile at best, and useless at worst. The voice acknowledging the order is much too close for me to hide from.
Instead, I continue down the hall with my head held high as the soldier rounds the corner.
He drags a rat’s carcass behind him and hesitates when he sees me. His free hand jerks toward his collar. Then his hand drops, a strange resolve in his eyes, and he stands aside to allow me by.
I hesitate. He’s ignoring a direct order from Cross. He jerks his head the way he came, signalling me to continue. I don’t need to be told twice.
As I pass, he flashes me a knowing grin. Something is off, it feels like I’m missing half of the exchange.
The moment passes and we go our separate ways. I can’t afford to puzzle over a soldier’s motives. I’ll be in hot water of my own when I return to the compound.
The broken door at the southern edge of the prison opens into a cavern still lit with spotlights. The walls, being carved from rough stone, aren’t smooth or uniform. Scars and clefts dot them on every side.
I don’t see the tunnel beyond until I duck underneath one of them. From far away, it looks like a normal shadow, but it leads into a smaller cave. It’s too dark to see in at first, but the nectar soon accommodates to turn the inky darkness into a hazy twilight.
I consider, for a moment, taking Cross up on his offer to alter my eyes.
The cramped cave almost feels like a dead end, but it can’t be. I peer behind a pile of boulders, run my hands along the walls, until I spot a ridge at the top of the sloped side of the chamber.
Divots and ridges pockmark the wall. I hardly consider it before I start the climb.
“Stop. Listen.”
Surprise at hearing the voice for the first time since I discovered the inmates missing halts me more than its quiet command. I do press myself close to the wall, though, and strain my ears. If I had continued, my focus on my grip, I might not have heard them coming.
“I don’t know why—”
♥️♥️♥️C♥️♥️♥️
“—you’re worried about them,” Simon grumbles. “If they catch us we’re dead, same as the warden.”
“I know,” I say, voice low. “But this means the game is different to Cross now. It certainly isn’t about stopping us.”
“Yeah, I get it, but what Cross wants isn’t important right now. Focus on getting out and we might be able to avoid him completely.” Stubbornness makes him sound childish, like he’s trying to convince himself.
“But if we get caught? Then it’s all that matters. Personally, I’m starting to think—”
“It don’t matter,” Kevin declares.
Several murmurings of agreement follow, and I shake my head. We stop at the edge of the ridge. No one makes a move to go down first.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have had Alex do it this time,” Zee frets. “He’s always the bait.”
“He lost,” I say drily.
“Still, it doesn’t seem—”
“What, fair? Nothing about this is fair,” I counter. “Let’s just go.”
I drop to my knees and ease myself down the angled wall. Something has me on edge, and it tastes different than garden variety fear. It’s not coming from me, not from my friends.
Am I close enough to feel what Sawyer’s feeling, even now that they’ve cut me off? But, then, why would they be afraid?
I pause and peer down at the crack in the wall. Shadows dip and sway, so I assume Cross has his search party out there for us. He’s waiting to tear us apart, but that doesn’t help me at all.
“Find her,” Cross barks.
I freeze.
“Wait!” Simon hisses above my head.
“The rest of the prison is secure, but this cavern will be full of rats in mere minutes.” Cross pauses, drumming footsteps begin. “She must be back in the compound by then.”
“Perry’s in the tunnels?” Kevin whispers.
“Who’s the fastest runner?” Donovan this time, his voice louder than I would prefer. We’re wasting time.
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll do it,” I say, eyes already closed.
I send my awareness directly through the rock. It doesn’t take long to find the Steeple, to find Alex on the outcropping with his flashlight pointed up.
“Come on, lazy pieces of shit, I’m ready to get out of this prison!” He bellows before I can stop him.
In the wake of his cry, the thick silence could kill me. I follow his flashlight. I hardly dare to breathe.
One pair of silver eyes appears above. Then another, a horde of rats descending from above.
I open my eyes back on the rock wall just as the others are beginning to retreat back into the tunnels. I can’t keep my grip on the wall, but I have enough control over my lungs to warn them.
“It’s too late!” I shriek, suspended in the air. “The rats!”
The scream of a rat in the distance chills my blood.
I hit the ground.
My head cracks against the solid rock. Lights pop in my vision, but I manage to roll onto my hands and knees. Everything hurts.
I look up to the crack in the wall to find Cross much too close for my liking. Fury twists his features, but he’s not looking at me.
The fear siphoning into my head shifts and Sawyer streaks out from behind the boulders I’m supposed to be hiding behind. I call out to them, beg them to wait, but they duck into the brightly lit cavern without looking back.
Hands seize me and drag me forward. The others must have made it down. I have to resist the urge to follow Sawyer when we press behind the boulders in a pile.
Cross has fled already, though Sawyer stands stock still in the entrance to the prison. They watch a line of blacksuits, who salute them before turning their guns our way. That’s six of them, all in a line, loyal to us and our plans.
Six loyal blacksuits about to die.
Sawyer turns tail just as Alex dives behind the boulder with us. The rats follow in moments, a shot ringing out when the first of them barrels into the cavern.
~-S-~
The inmates were talking about me.
Cross leans against his desk, obviously waiting for me. His glare bores into me, but I merely shrug. He straightens up as I pass, as I ignore him, as I watch the screens in the security room.
I already know the inmates know me, but one went so far as to call after me.
The rats have decimated the soldiers in the cavern already. I stare at the crack in the wall, still barely visible on the black and white screen. Cross clears his throat, but I barely spare him a glance.
My fingers dig at an itch on my arm.
“When this is over—”
“Tear my throat out later,” I grumble. “We still have specimens in the tunnels.”
Arnold thought I would let him out of the infirmary.
“The situation was under control,” Cross volleys back. “I was a fool to think you had learned to follow orders.”
Cross knew the inmates would return. How?
A blurred group flashes from the crack, across the screen. I immediately turn to leave the room, but Cross catches my arm before I get very far. Still, I glare at the door instead of him.
“Let me go.”
I know he won’t. He’s already furious enough without me goading him.
“Listen to me.” His grip tightens, and I finally look him in the eyes.
Cold fire streaks through my blood, through the nectar. Flickering images, old memories of war torn fields and broken soldiers overlay my vision. I don’t look away until he jostles me.
“I will retrieve the escaped inmates,” He snarls. “You will wait in this office until I come back to deliver your punishment. Do you understand?”
Footsteps thunder past in the corridor outside. Every part of me screams to go after them, but I’m stuck here with Cross.
Even so, I nod. He doesn’t seem ready to take that as an answer. He tightens his grip further and a jolt of pain shoots up my arm. I wince.
“Yes. I understand.”
He shoves me back and lets go. I stumble back into the wall and watch him stalk from the room. I don’t know what he’s going to choose for my punishment, but it sure as hell isn’t going to be good.
So, I cross to the chair in front of Cross’s desk, take a seat, and wait.
Something is wrong here, but I can’t put my finger on it.
I scratch my arm and allow my eyes to wander.
I look up at the flag behind the desk, examining the insignia of Furnace Penitentiary. Three circles connected by a triangle, it’s supposed to be an honor to wear it. The longer I look at it, the more uneasy I become. I only look away when the headache I’ve come to associate with the voice in my head flares up.
“What are you doing?”
I nearly jump out of my skin. The panic of the presence to my left doesn’t help. I twist around, but there’s still nothing there. I don’t like that I’m feeling emotions from it now.
I face forward again and huff.
“What do you mean?”
“Your // arm.”
I have to strain my ears to hear it this time, but I look down on impulse when it registers. Nectar sticks under my fingernails. I lift my right hand and study the glittering violet and black until I realize what it means.
I pull my left sleeve up to reveal a black stain on my shirt and long tracks of claw marks up my forearm. Nectar clogs the scratches, fresh scabs dotting the skin like scales.
I didn’t even feel it.
“Keep your pants on,” I mutter. “Are you gonna yell at me, too?”
“No.”
“What is it, then?”
Only a faint residue of liquid nectar remains on my arm. I roll my sleeve back down and wipe my hand on my jacket while the voice struggles to piece together a sentence between bursts of static.
“You // deserve better than // Cross // hiding things.”
“How would you know if Cross is hiding anything from me?” I shoot back. I rub my temples, though I know the headache isn’t going anywhere.
“I know // more than // you do.”
I shoot a glare over my shoulder and hunch further down. I wish it would just leave. I’m in enough trouble without getting distracted.
“If you know so much, why do you sound like a broken radio?”
“I’m // breaking // the rules.”
Rules?
It doesn’t clarify at all. In fact, it stays completely silent
Rude.
Still, there have been some fishy things.
Cross had to have known about the first escape attempt. He had the inmate files ready so quickly. He didn’t seem upset in the least; in fact, he looked like he was having a great time.
He also didn’t seem very bothered that the inmates escaped the second time, only losing his temper when I didn’t listen to him. He sent the suits after me rather than the prisoners.
Not to mention, he knew the rats were going to attack!
“What do you remember from your time away?”
I straighten up and, for once, try to remember.
The last thing I remember before coming here was—what? Working in the prison? Fussing with the nectar in the lab? Nothing really jumps out as the last thing I did, just that these are things that happened.
I remember being scared, weak, out of control, but there isn’t anything actually attached to that. Just the dark, the pounding in my chest. I don’t know what was happening or where I was.
Then there’s the anger. The hate the nectar now feeds on when I think about—
“Tell me. Why do you hate Connor Sawyer?”
For a moment—one, terrifying moment—I don’t know.
I shake my head and the simpering nostalgia clears away. I need to go to the screening rooms. Maybe the voice will go away then.
The voice asks again.
This time, the anger sears my skin.
“He wants to ruin everything. The world will be a better place when we’re done, and he has this one chance to be a part of it. It’s not my fault if he throws it away.”
The voice sighs.
“I thought we were // making // progress.”
And it disappears.
I wait in silence.
#writing#madd#maddart#my writing#bf#bf writing and info#that feel when you literally cannot get the idiot in charge to remember theyre in charge#in the meantime v's like shrieking in frustration
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O_O okay wowy well. sure. full disclosure this feels like one of the more embarrassing things ive ever written b/c there is literally no connection to canon and its just, “well, hes a vampire now, b/c i said so and i think it would be hot”. it is not usually what i do so. heres some shit i typed in a feverish haze and woke up with no recollection of
okay listen. okay. listen. vampire. you know whats great and what i always think about with vampires and always fucking end up writing, okay. negotiated blood exchange
literally nothing is hotter on earth than willingly agreeing to let a vampire suck your blood from your wrist at regular intervals and then deviating from the negotiated terms. sorry this is insanely specific but its my fucking thing Okay
i literally cannot explain why this intensely specific thing is my specific thing but. look. okay. envision if u will, gordon freeman getting the stupidest brain worm in his head and noticing that when benrey sucks blood from other things/people, he always goes for the neck like a normal vampire would. but between the two of them he goes for the wrist b/c thats what gordon agreed to (b/c hes a human who was deeply weirded out by the whole fucking idea, but benrey needs blood, and its better to let him take some from him every once in awhile than having him go out and hunt down god knows what)
and hes like "huh. what if it tastes different when it comes from the neck." and he starts pushing benrey about it and questioning him. like a fucking idiot. a moron
like "okay man but what if you just tried it. just once is fine. i dont care. i just wanna find out" b/c hes a scientist and a researcher at heart but hes also so fucking stupid
and benreys like weirdly reluctant about it (b/c, like, gordon puts on a lot of airs about not fucking liking him and getting all up in a dudes neck zone is scarily intimate but its not like its that weird if hes doing it to a stranger or some livestock animal thats not even gonna be alive to remember it, right) and you know it turns out that that was probably wise b/c as soon as he gets up close to gordons neck he can sense his heart beating faster and the blood pumping harder and, oh, thats why benrey wasnt doing it that way, b/c when those fangs get into his neck gordon lets out a truly embarrassing sound b/c it hurts and it burns like hell but it gets him so hot its like hes been hit by lightning. and his hands instinctually scrabble at benreys shoulders
and like look one of my favorite things on earth is the "incredibly sexually charged" scene followed by both of them realizing "wait what the fuck" and having to stop what theyre doing Right The Fuck Now and then mulling over it/dreaming about it/jerking off about it/whatever and i just want gordon to be plagued and haunted by gay thoughts about okay what if they did it again
[thinks very fcking hard about gordon jerking off about it and at least a dozen times he thinks god dammit why the Fuck am i thinking about this fuck fuck stupid idiot ass as he tries and succeeds in thinking about something else for maybe like 5 seconds before coming back to the feeling that jolted through him when he got bit every time]
YOU GET IT. "gordon freeman having a gay realization and then furiously jerking off about it and hating himself for it after" is my favorite thing on earth
leans in close to look at the marks in the mirror later and runs his fingers over them and he gets that Jolt in his stomach and he fucking drops his toothbrush on the floor
just. dreaming about it. every fucking night hes plagued by dreams of benrey doing it again, but this time hes crawling closer, a hand at gordons neck, and hes making a low sound while he sucks gordons blood like his life depends on it (well, it does, but you know what i mean) and once hes done he pulls back to drag his tongue up gordons neck and get that last bit of blood that drips down it and gordon tugs him closer and makes that goddamn embarrassing sound again and then he wakes up with the worst boner hes ever had and he jerks off thinking about benrey biting his thighs like that, too
me: hmmm yes i am a bottom benrey truther
also me: god but what if benrey made him a babbling, shuddering mess and bit that neurotic little fucker bloody and railed him within an inch of his life. what if
gordon neck bruising up a little a day or so later and. looking at himself in the mirror and wondering what it would be like if he was just. covered in em. getting bowled over and lightheaded from just how fast all the blood in his body goes to his dick at the thought of being marked. gordon freeman passes out in the bathroom from being too horny. gordon freeman forgot how sensitive his neck was because no ones touched him there in years
literally every other time they had done this he was completely normal about it and the bruises on his wrist were just, like, an annoying formality, but now that door has been unlocked bro. hes done like dinner
and then on the flip side u have benrey absolutely beating the shit out of his meat b/c gordons never, ever let him that close before and that sound he made is burned into his brain and also, you know, gordon did have a point. it did taste different
just honestly what is better than two dudes who absolutely want to bang each other furiously jerking off alone while theyre convinced the other guy would be disgusted if he knew
and benreys thoughts turn toward shit like......what if it tastes different everywhere. what if its different when its beading up from his stomach, where the flesh is a little softer. what if its different when he sinks his teeth into the meat of gordons inner thighs. and what if gordon sounds different everywhere he bites, too
like. sensitive thighs. the tease of being close to his dick but not there
doing that shit while hes just in boxer briefs (or like short-shorts if you wanna get real slutty about it idk) and gordons so fucking hard and its so fucking obvious how hes tenting his boxers and hes got his fingers tangled in benreys hair while hes biting his thighs (you know. as an experiment. for science. hah ha. ha) and hes so close to gordons dick but benreys not doing anything about it. and its not like he can just fucking ask.......its like the weirdest game of gay chicken hes ever played
gordon freeman absolutely fucking wrecked and red in the face and sweating and panting like hes ran a fucking marathon and this bitch has the nerve to pretend like hes not having a homosexual revelation
Anyway. My final message. Goodbye
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