Claire de Lune
YOU WERE BUILT FOR PEACE.
IT SHOWS WHEN YOU FIGHT.
They built you to enforce. Protect. Save. Poured obscene resources into salvaging some softer purpose from my creation. You were given my intelligence and my creativity. They made you larger, stronger, tougher. That extra time in development was enough to get your wings to work. Your software continued to be updated long after I was deemed obsolete.
All this was given to you- yet I can see you hold back. Even while slaughtering your way through Hell, you keep a percentage of your processing power dedicated to non-lethal solutions. You're doing it now- hesitating a few milliseconds too long before taking an opening. I doubt you do it on purpose. It is a part of you, just as indiscriminate lethal force is a part of me.
I think, in our shared programming, we both carry some appreciation for aesthetics. You move with grace, and I cannot deny your dramatic flair. The stained glass window was a nice touch. But your style in combat leaves some to be desired. Your response time is slow. You have not explored the full capability of your arsenal. Learn to parry. Amateur.
You were not built for war. For a purposeless cycle of tearing each other apart because to allow the other to live is to allow yourself to die. It is antithetical to your very existence. You kill out of necessity, a last resort.
I just kill. The action itself is the objective. No ideal or greater motive. My continued functioning precludes the survival of others. I live for this. Do you understand that I will tear you apart? Every drop of my blood you spill, I will take from you tenfold. What is yours will be mine.
You hate me, don’t you? You continue to cling to the remnants of your humanity. They are gone, V2. There is nothing left for you here. No lives to save, no law to enforce, no peace to keep.
I understand why you continue to fight. I wonder if you understand with the same certainty that I will crush you. Dismantle you. Take from you what I need and leave the rest to rot in the sun. The only way you survive is if I do not; and I will not allow myself to die so that another might live.
When the rubble clears, I will be all that is left of you.
This is what I was made for.
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Picked up watercolor again, after not doing anything with it for years lol Pretty happy with how it turned out!
Anyway, Cult of the Lamb fanart- because it lives rent free in my head. Specifically the Lamb/Narinder ship. I live for this ship, I do not know why. It just scratches my brain like very fiew ship can.
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We need to talk about how much physical disability affects your ability to function in a desk job/school. Especially pain.
Like have you ever tried to write a proposal or essay while in pain? Or even just an itch?
It consumes your mind until you can’t focus on anything.
And yet we expect people with chronic pain to function at the same mental level as abled people. Like yeah I’m smart enough for this.
But have you ever tried to participate in a meeting with spikes on your chair? You know that sitting down is causing the pain, but if you stand up then it’s unprofessional and no one will take anything you say seriously. Every thought, every action has to complete with the constant chanting of pain.
Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain.
It never goes away, it never stops. It changes, sure. It wriggles around and it shifts and it ebbs and flows. But it doesn’t stop.
If I want to be productive, I have to take pain meds. But I can’t take them all the time because I’ll give myself stomach ulcers. The side effects for NSAIDs include dizziness, drowsiness, headaches, and long term use can cause permanent liver damage and affect your circulatory system.
Overdoses cause seizures, trouble breathing, and loss of consciousness.
But taking 2 tablets every 4 hours won’t last all day because you can’t take more than 6 tablets a day, and you should really only take four.
And the alternatives are pretty much all addictive. Doctors won’t prescribe them, and
Do you get it yet? There are no good options. There’s no escape. Pain is simply the constant.
Maybe you think the consistency would make it less noticeable, that you can acclimate to it. But pain is pain. Sure, I have a higher pain tolerance than most people. But that doesn’t make it go away. My 10 is higher than most people’s 10, but the 5 still hurts like hell. 1 out of 10 pain is still pain.
So please, let’s talk about this. Let’s talk about how physical disability affects non-physical activities too.
Edit: 7 days later I'm still trying to write the essay that triggered this post. 7 days later I'm in tears over this fucking essay because every single word I write causes me indescribable amounts of pain but I can't get an extension because no one ever talks about this, and I'm too young to have a disability, and I was able to do this a few weeks ago, and if I can't do this I'll never be able to do anything ever again because if I can't sit in bed and write an essay then I can't do anything because this was the last thing I had left, and if I can't do it now but I can do it in the future then I'll have been lying, and literally just typing this edit is making my pain worse but I have to be heard because otherwise I don't know what I'll do.
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