boy don't you just love placing all your self-worth on being useful?
i imagine conjuring is very draining for an AI that has had all admin privileges revoked. everybody else is a human; they can separate themselves from the code, in a way. it feels tangible, like a video game save file or a phone's camera roll. to Caine, it's probably more like chopping off all of your limbs and then performing a dissection on them with a pair of prosthetics.
hope the floor spontaneously glitching out isn't indicative of anything important! (why am i making everything important now i'm gonna have to remember all of this stuff later)
also sorry this update came a little late! one of my family members came into town and i wanted to prioritize spending time with her :)
oh yeah!! pretty sure there’s only gonna be one or two more posts until it’s the end of the intro — then it’s naming time :DDD
THEY WILL LEAVE COMMENTS ASKING TO SPEAK TO YOU AND THEY WILL MESSAGE YOU SAYING YOUR ACCOUNT GOT REPORTED BY MISTAKE!! THEY NEVER REPORTED YOUR ACCOUNT AND ARE ATTEMPTING TO GET YOU TO MESSAGE SOMEONE ON DISCORD IN ORDER TO HACK YOUR ACCOUNT!!!
THEY WILL LEAVE COMMENTS ASKING TO SPEAK TO YOU AND THEY WILL MESSAGE YOU SAYING YOUR ACCOUNT GOT REPORTED BY MISTAKE!! THEY NEVER REPORTED YOUR ACCOUNT AND ARE ATTEMPTING TO GET YOU TO MESSAGE SOMEONE ON DISCORD IN ORDER TO HACK YOUR ACCOUNT!!!
Hunting is a Man's Way of Control (A Morel Orel fanfic!!!! Chapter 1/?)
He could feel the sharp sting of pain shoot through his body as the bullet came in contact with his leg. Orel had fallen backwards from the force of it all, shaking. He knew that getting shot hurt, but he had never thought it would hurt this badly. Tears stung his eyes as the pain intensified, but he stayed strong, remembering what was taught to him; ‘Boys don’t cry.’
The woods around him seemed eerie. The only sounds came from birds off in the distance, and his father, who was in front of him.
“Orel, what have you done?”
He glanced up at his father, who was still holding the gun. The words rang in his head, over and over again. Orel hadn’t done anything, had he? Why was his dad acting as if he did?
“I got shot… By you.” He muttered, voice quiet from how horribly bad he was hurting.
Why wasn’t Clay doing anything to help him? Why was he just standing there? Why was it so hard to breathe all of a sudden? Why was he-
☵ !!BEEP!! ☵
☵ !!BEEP!! ☵
☵ !!BEEP!! ☵
Orel woke up to the sound of his alarm clock, pulling the covers off of his body and shifting them to the side. It took him a moment before he realized he wasn’t in the woods. He was at home. He was in bed.
Orel steadied his racing heart, it was another day.
Another day of praying.
Another day of lying pretending.
Another day since that hunting trip.
That god-awful hunting trip.
He glanced at his leg, a part of him hoping the cast wasn’t there anymore; That the last month had just been a nightmare. Alas, the plaster of paris was still secured to his leg, signaling this all had in fact happened. This wasn’t a dream. His father had shot him.
Birds chirped outside his window. He couldn’t help but wonder what they were actually saying. After all, if animals had no souls, then what did they talk about? Were they talking, or were they just making noises? They couldn’t have just been making noises for no reason, though; After all, if they made noises for no reason then why had Bartholomew barked at him every time he saw him? Why had that dog in the woods whined after-
He caught himself before he started spiraling too much, grabbing his crutches.
The table was a dark, vibrant brown that didn’t match the rest of the house’s wooded furniture. It was old, having been passed down generation after generation. Orel didn’t know why it was so special to his family, but then again, his family really only cared about saving money; They probably just didn’t want to buy a new one. If the table was from his grandpa it would’ve most definitely been thrown out by now. His father Clay didn’t like grandpa for … reasons.
Orel sat at the dining area, patiently waiting for breakfast. Clay was already at work, but he didn’t mind that. Orel didn’t mind not seeing that man, especially after what happened just a month ago. He was snapped out of his thoughts at the sight of his breakfast. Right… Eating.
He looked at his breakfast; Bacon, sausage, and a roll. He thought about where the meat came from, and gagged slightly. He never really liked meat much, but just the thought of hunting now was making him seriously consider becoming vegetarian. He forced the food down anyway; It was a sin to waste.
After choking down his meal, he went back upstairs to get ready for the day, pulling on his usual striped shirt and blue pants. He really hoped he wasn’t gonna be fired from his part-time job… He hadn’t been there since the incident. What was he gonna tell Stephanie? On his way out he glanced at Clay’s study.
“Oh, I- uh.. I dropped the gun and shot myself on accident…”
Sorry I haven't been posting much lol. I've been trying to balance school with my online presence but idk if its really working. I just got a flip phone, tho, so hopefully I end up with less of an addiction!!
Anyhow, if you want more chapters of this let me know. I will also be cross-posting this to Wattpad, Ao3 (when I get my account approved), and my spacehey profile (https://spacehey.com/lunchbrunch)
Hunting is a Man's Way of Control (A Morel Orel fanfic!!!! Chapter 1/?)
He could feel the sharp sting of pain shoot through his body as the bullet came in contact with his leg. Orel had fallen backwards from the force of it all, shaking. He knew that getting shot hurt, but he had never thought it would hurt this badly. Tears stung his eyes as the pain intensified, but he stayed strong, remembering what was taught to him; ‘Boys don’t cry.’
The woods around him seemed eerie. The only sounds came from birds off in the distance, and his father, who was in front of him.
“Orel, what have you done?”
He glanced up at his father, who was still holding the gun. The words rang in his head, over and over again. Orel hadn’t done anything, had he? Why was his dad acting as if he did?
“I got shot… By you.” He muttered, voice quiet from how horribly bad he was hurting.
Why wasn’t Clay doing anything to help him? Why was he just standing there? Why was it so hard to breathe all of a sudden? Why was he-
☵ !!BEEP!! ☵
☵ !!BEEP!! ☵
☵ !!BEEP!! ☵
Orel woke up to the sound of his alarm clock, pulling the covers off of his body and shifting them to the side. It took him a moment before he realized he wasn’t in the woods. He was at home. He was in bed.
Orel steadied his racing heart, it was another day.
Another day of praying.
Another day of lying pretending.
Another day since that hunting trip.
That god-awful hunting trip.
He glanced at his leg, a part of him hoping the cast wasn’t there anymore; That the last month had just been a nightmare. Alas, the plaster of paris was still secured to his leg, signaling this all had in fact happened. This wasn’t a dream. His father had shot him.
Birds chirped outside his window. He couldn’t help but wonder what they were actually saying. After all, if animals had no souls, then what did they talk about? Were they talking, or were they just making noises? They couldn’t have just been making noises for no reason, though; After all, if they made noises for no reason then why had Bartholomew barked at him every time he saw him? Why had that dog in the woods whined after-
He caught himself before he started spiraling too much, grabbing his crutches.
The table was a dark, vibrant brown that didn’t match the rest of the house’s wooded furniture. It was old, having been passed down generation after generation. Orel didn’t know why it was so special to his family, but then again, his family really only cared about saving money; They probably just didn’t want to buy a new one. If the table was from his grandpa it would’ve most definitely been thrown out by now. His father Clay didn’t like grandpa for … reasons.
Orel sat at the dining area, patiently waiting for breakfast. Clay was already at work, but he didn’t mind that. Orel didn’t mind not seeing that man, especially after what happened just a month ago. He was snapped out of his thoughts at the sight of his breakfast. Right… Eating.
He looked at his breakfast; Bacon, sausage, and a roll. He thought about where the meat came from, and gagged slightly. He never really liked meat much, but just the thought of hunting now was making him seriously consider becoming vegetarian. He forced the food down anyway; It was a sin to waste.
After choking down his meal, he went back upstairs to get ready for the day, pulling on his usual striped shirt and blue pants. He really hoped he wasn’t gonna be fired from his part-time job… He hadn’t been there since the incident. What was he gonna tell Stephanie? On his way out he glanced at Clay’s study.
“Oh, I- uh.. I dropped the gun and shot myself on accident…”
Sorry I haven't been posting much lol. I've been trying to balance school with my online presence but idk if its really working. I just got a flip phone, tho, so hopefully I end up with less of an addiction!!
Anyhow, if you want more chapters of this let me know. I will also be cross-posting this to Wattpad, Ao3 (when I get my account approved), and my spacehey profile (https://spacehey.com/lunchbrunch)
