okay. i need to rewatch the episode probably but i think my current feeling is that i like most of it a lot (rome, ken, the siblings not getting ceo, etc), think the tom ceo makes sense from a logical/character perspective but not sure how i feel about it from a broader more thematic lens (altho i'm leaning towards fine with it), and am very mixed on shiv's ending because i think it's well-conceived and meaningful from a broader thematic lens (shiv becomes her mother, the cycle always repeats, etc) but doesn't quite make sense to me from a logical/character one -- it could've worked, it could've worked brilliantly, but it was far too rushed and forced. it makes sense as an ending for shiv, but not her next step. i'm largely talking about her decision to return to tom, not her decision to vote against kendall (which i think should've been executed better and given more space but can understand given her character, mostly). i'm fine with it as an ending for shiv, but what i'm struggling to stomach is the way it played out -- it didn't feel like a choice the shiv we know would've made. it's an ending that makes sense thematically and for her character arc, but not a decision that makes sense for her character at present. that's kinda where i'm at right now
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ok as an artist i personally find traditional painting to be. really really annoying. like. i do not have the patience for it and i just find it to be really frustrating to set up and actually do and i end up not liking the results. i find that there's little room for mistakes and trying to fix them usually ends up with me making 50 other ones, paints can be so inconsistent and having to rely on availability and certain brands to continue making the paint is really inconvenient, not to mention expensive. spending a bunch of time trying to mix the right shade of paint, only for it to go down a completely different shade of colour and not being able to do anything about it is so frustrating as someone who likes consistency and having things just, y'know, not change colour as soon as it dries. plus, they all use different chemicals and can go off really easily or change textures and i am just not ok with having all my materials having an expiration date like food. lead and graphite pencils just don't do that and they can last for years, they're more reliable. every paint is drastically different and trying to find the right one is not only time consuming but, again, expensive, and i don't even see the point in experimenting when most of my materials end up not even getting used if i don't like using them. plus, i'm just.... really impatient. waiting for paint to dry sucks and is why i much prefer digital or just drawing something because i don't need to wait for anything, it just works. and then when i do want to take my time and work slowly for a better result, it dries too fast. it's kinda hellish trying to balance that time, especially considering how inconsistent paints are.
i like to use guidelines when doing art and i find painting straight onto a canvas to be really tricky because there's a lack of direction for me to actually paint. i'm at a complete loss at what to do when i pick up a brush because i can't map it out first without risking screwing up the paint. there's just so many things to keep track of and so much wet paint to avoid and i just do not have the mind for it. putting colours on a canvas and praying that it works just isn't it for me and requires a discipline that i just don't wanna involve myself with. painting is also just like... really exhausting and kinda painful. i got some pretty bad back issues and my arms tire and get sore easily and quickly when i'm standing in front of a canvas. it's a really physical activity for me and i just don't find something to be very fun to do at all when it's physically hurting me. i know drawing on a canvas has this issue too, which is why i prefer sketchbooks. sitting down and drawing something that doesn't break my entire spine every time i do it is much more preferrable than questioning if i should go to the doctor every time i make a brushstroke, lol
that's not to say that there's nothing i like about painting though! i can paint simple little things, and i like doing that. i like mixing colours with a palette knife and i find it fun and even a little relaxing. i painted some cute little chibi cardboard cutouts of the mario brothers one time and i found that to be really fun and i think i'd like to do that again! but apart from that, i just do not have the patience for it. i love the look of traditional paintings and i find many to be really beautiful, but i could never get into actually doing it myself because i hate the process. i'm content with just sketching and doing digital stuff because that's more fun to me and less stressful of a process to do. it's fun, it allows for more mistakes, it's easier to build up layers of shading and lines, not to mention using building up a figure with guidelines is super helpful with visualising what i want it to look like, and i can just erase something if i don't want it there or want to change something. it just makes sense to me.
tl;dr i dont like painting because it's inconsistent, expensive, time-consuming, directionless, frustrating and it makes my back hurt really bad. i'll just stick to drawing stuff :)
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“be honest...Would you kill your own father?” -Broly
send me "be honest..." with a question your muse has been dying to ask mine and they'll answer truthfully.
Not once had he been asked about his father until that point.
The snap of his head was already an egregious display of his answer, expression caught in a moment of surprise with how his eye widened enough to be noticeable over his shoulder. His mouth remained a thin line, the loose coagulation of whatever thoughts he had been running through in what chores and tasks that needed to be done on that day fell into a disquieted silence as his body stalled to a grinding halt amid its journey to the water basin carved by his own might several weeks prior.
What had brought about such a senseless question by some whelp lucky enough to encounter him while the midday sun was blazing hot was a question in its own right.
' He's already dead. ' Was what he wanted to say but instead, another set of words replaced what his brain thought, sliding through the dried canals of that beating organ. Memories of the past were all it was comprised of, trudging through the veins that were long since abandoned as the harsh reality of surviving through hardship after harship coalesced into a single droplet. Paragus was the only man he knew for the majority of his life up until his death. He was only man who raised him and dared to love him in the ways only a father would love a son still so small and clinging close. Stories spoke of how their mighty race once once, filling naive eyes with hope to one day be reunited with a pocket of Saiyans that might yet still exist somewhere with him as the next reigning king. Rebuilding their civilization, destroying their enemies, it was what any Saiyan child could want but those times of frivolous dreams fell to ruin as the years came by and the magnitude of Broly's own power easily devoured like a ravenous ecplise over his father.
His father taught him how to survive, watched him with a keen eye and was mindful to not neglect the intellect that Broly held behind the piercing visage of his eyes. Tactics of combat, diplomacy of political frivolities were skills given and honed through his father's grand plans of seating his son on that lofty throne that lay in the realm of a dream. Threading words coaxed by their constant nomadic lifestyle of venturing from one planet to another became a necessary facet of survival to evade the radar of the same reigning empire that destroyed their race. To be smarter than one's pursuers, remain low to the ground like a stalking predator and attack when the moment was right. Nearly everything that Broly knew could be traced directly to his father...
He fought when he was of age, learned everything he could be taught when it came to destroying his enemies. The blood he spat and spilled, the amount of times his bones fractured and broke, the burning hatred felt for those who looked to claim both of their lives for what they are. Anger was the only way to survive, the only way a Saiyan is to be to attain greater power. It couldn't be counted on both hands the amount of times the Legendary Saiyan felt he might've died while growing up in facing off against stronger opponents for one reason or another. He needed to adapt quickly and with greater power, pushed forth by his father as they went from living as exiles to taking over villages, towns, cities.. and entire planets.
Everything he did had been to make the man who raised him proud.
" ... I don't know. " He spoke softly under his breath, easy to miss as much as the small glimpse of what might've been a small shred of regret.
And yet he killed his own father in cold blood during an outraging rampage.
It was deserved.
It was the product of years of control and ordering him around, forcing him to obey every damned command.
' I'm sorry son, but you'll die with his planet as well. '
' " Where do YOU think you're Going... Dad? " '
' " Broly..! I was.. preparing the ship for us to leave together. "
' " In a ship made for One? " '
Convoluted emotions were a disgrace to his Saiyan blood. The love of a mere child knowing nothing more than what his father did to ensure survival. He was the only Saiyan left for what felt to be years upon years. He loved him. And it only made the betrayal all the worse that the fleeting moment of tenderness that collected in that dewdrop resting over those dried canals evaporated with the contrived, twisted half-truths that could never be a clear cut answer. Both sides were true in that he hadn't wanted to kill him in a small, desparing corner but the hatred and vileness spoke a larger voice as its half of the truth spoke a simple fact on the matter as though he were only commenting on the weather.
" I already killed him. "
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