#and wouldn't that be a fun reveal

[zhukzucraft]

=====>

Finally, you're going to find out your serendipitous soulmate! Your preordained partner! Your begrudging bff!

...or not

Joe: ???

Etho: Oh yeah, that's normal.

=====>

Start Over -- Go Back

BY THE POWER OF RNG, THE SOULMATES HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED! Aaaaaa the pairs are actually pretty interesting, I'm excited!!! :D

I'm not planning to reveal everyone's soulmate just yet, but here's proof that it's been done:

Next update soon? Hopefully? I already got a plan for it ohoho

[vinkandpaint]

novicenouns

[alchemistc]

Tommy has been in a Lavender marriage for ten years and since his cousin does his taxes he actually kind of forgot about it. He's pretty sure she lives in Florida now?

Tommy gets an email from Alicia letting him know that she's thinking she might actually come out to a few of her friends, and not even thinking about it says something offhand to Buck about his wife finally coming out of the closet. "Apparently it's a good year for that."

Buck reacts to this news super extra normal-like, as we would expect.

(He spirals for days and ducks Tommy's calls and begs for advice and finally it comes to a head when he blurts out something to the effect of "Well you can't marry me if you're ALREADY MARRIED TOMMY.")

Tommy, licking powdered sugar off his thumb: Evan, you haven't even told me you love me.

Buck, flailing, halfway through his tirade, pauses and blinks: You should get a divorce.

Tommy, who has already contacted a lawyer: Do you consider it less like cheating if the words don't cross your lips?

[feroluce]

Made a FANTASTIC discovery today regarding the meaning behind Boothill's fourth eidolon, I'm so happy!!! Most of it is just cowboy references, like

Eidolon 1: Dusty Trail's Lone Star- cowboy lingo, the Lone Star of Texas

Eidolon 2: Milestonemonger- more cowboy lingo, someone who roams and wanders

Eidolon 3: Marble Orchard's Guard- yet more cowboy lingo, a term for a graveyard (a fave of mine, because for me it evokes the image of a Church Grim <333)

Eidolon 4: Cold Cuts Chef- ????

Google didn't really provide much on Eidolon 4 like for the first three. Before today I had assumed it was just another movie reference of some sort, since Boothill is like entirely based on/inspired by old Western films.

"Cold cuts" are basically lunch meat/deli meat. It's precooked meat that doesn't need any kind of preparation- you can literally just eat it cold. Since it didn't seem to be a movie reference, I thought oh, maybe it's a nod to his lifestyle? Boothill is unhoused and lives on the run from the IPC with little rest, he doesn't really have the means to cook. Precooked, easy food like that would be a godsend for someone in his circumstances.

Anyway the original Chinese text gives it an entirely different, MUCH wilder meaning fjadskljfkld

love how they chose "celebrity chef" to show his expertise and/or fame in this fjkdlsja

Because no, "cold cuts" isn't cowboy lingo for anything, but cold meat specifically is.

It's how you refer to a corpse.

"Cold Cuts Chef" is not a title talking about his cooking ability, or his life's circumstances, or anything as mundane as that, IT'S ABOUT THE FACT THAT BOOTHILL SPECIALIZES IN DEALING DEATH, THIS MAN IS EXTREMELY SKILLED, AND GOOD AT WHAT HE DOES, AND WHAT HE DOES IS MURDER!!!!!

[karlyanalora]

The Rescue Bots in canon are a smidge shorter than Bumblebee. They may never have been meant for war (and should stay out of it on principal) but they are a highly competent team deserving of respect. They are technically in the Aligned Universe, but if we'd gotten to see them in main tfp I think it would have been best as a truly neutral party. Rescue Bots are meant to save lives, regardless of faction. Seeing which Decepticons chose to respect that (definitely Dreadwing and maybe Soundwave) and those who chose to exploit it (Megatron) would have led to interesting character development and potential dissension in the ranks. Heck, seeing which Autobots respect the Rescue Bots' position in the conflict and which don't would have made for great character development. Even just their appearance for a few episodes could have had a huge butterfly effect.

I think too much about the rescue bots but in tfp artstyle. About how their optics would look and differ, how the plating interlocks and how Heatwave's little helmet helm would look. Blades's colors. The visors!!! Actually also how the humans would look because i feel like the tfp style for humans would actually kinda work for Cody. .

[diwns]

i made it!!! reached affinity lvl. 100 within 100 days 😭😭

in chinese, the number 9 (九, jiǔ) is a homophone for "long/lasting" (久, jiǔ). reaching affinity lvl.100 milestone on day 99 in hope that we'll by his side till the end of time, that the journey through deepspace with zayne could stretch on as the forever expanding universe. 🥰

[camels-pen]

completely unrelated thought to literally anything i've been doing today:

canon Sanji getting swapped with a Sanji from a genderswap AU. key point is that everyone's p much the same personality wise

there are crises going on. but mostly for canon Sanji lmao

this includes:

Luffy still likes to walk around w/ an open shirt

Franky also still likes to walk around w/ an open shirt

Usopp, guess what, also likes to walk around w/ an open shirt

granted, Usopp at least wears crop tops sometimes

Brook looks pretty much the same except for speaking mannerisms / voice pitch; startles the hell out of Sanji bc he keeps expecting it to be his Brook until a Skull Joke comes out of those chuckling teeth

The knee jerk reaction to Robin and Nami keeps crossing wires- one moment Sanji will just register a guy in his peripheral but not who he's speaking to and cuss and complain and shit. then the realization will kick in and he'll be caught up trying to apologize, but then wondering if he does need to apologize because uh, Nami and Robin are guys here right?? and they're not his Nami and Robin, but at the same time he can't just be rude to Nami and Robin-

he ends up staring into space for a while thinking in circles about it

Zoro is now of the gender he typically dotes on

"H-Hey, Moss-chan-"

"Don't call me that"

"Right. You want a smoothie?"

"I'm not gonna fuck you."

Usopp is the easiest to dote on, followed by Chopper, Franky, and Luffy. funny thing is, aside from Zoro, none of them have complained about/refused said doting. Sanji is reassuring himself that his list doesn't mean anything. he's not falling for Usopp just because of a pair of tits. that'd be ridiculous. after all his Usopp has got plenty big tits already-

he slams his head into a wall trying to forget that thought

also. he has no outlet for any frustration/anger/overwhelming feelings because he's got his code of chivalry thing. so he can't fight Zoro and he doesn't want to fight Robin or Nami. he starts smoking more to compensate, but then he either runs out or Chopper intervenes and gets him to promise to limit his use

in short. suffering.

This Nami and Robin do notice though & while Nami very much does not want to fight Sanji on account of, yknow, not wanting any broken bones or terrible injuries, Robin on the other hand-

He knew it'd help Sanji and it'd be nice to have a sparring partner to practice the more deadly things he can do on someone who can handle it, so he's kinda like "if it'll help, i don't mind sparring"

Sanji is caught between "oh fuck yes, finally someone to kick" and "I CANT HURT ROBIN-KUN"

the sparring ends up very pathetic on Sanji's side of things- think his fight with Kalifa but without him trying to bluff and looking openly stressed- Usopp listens to Sanji's woes about it later while she tinkers on inventions lmao

Usopp is also oddly clingy with Sanji, more so than his own Usopp. However, Sanji doesn't even bother thinking about it, just happy to soak up all the affection. He always has some sort of crisis thinking about his own Usopp later though.

Zoro, and I cannot stress this enough, is a woman. a buff, sweaty, mossball of a woman.

so yeah, suffering.

fem sanji, on the other hand:

having the time of her life

proud bisexual woman going "dear god, so many hot guys- wait shit, is that mosshead"

starts getting "overly friendly" with Usopp- laying his head in her lap, playing with his hair, carrying him around, calling him pet names, making him special snacks, etc.

everyone else puts it together real quick, except Usopp. who doesn't realize the answer until fem Sanji gives him a goodbye kiss on the cheek before going to prep for dinner

The answer: fem Usopp and fem Sanji are dating

fem Sanji: he's Usopp, therefore he's my partner in this flipped world, therefore I gotta treat him right while his own Sanji isn't here

Usopp wants to tell her the truth. but also. doesn't.

he is a mix of guilt and happiness every time he doesn't speak up and gets some gesture of love from her

in conclusion: one way or another, there is suffering all around <3

[ehlnofay]

Pax should have said no.

Damn it all, they should have said no. Should have said go to hell and fucked off back – stop contacting me, sort out your own shit – but they didn’t, fuck knows why, and now they’re stuck here.

(They know why. They know exactly why; absolutely anything would be better than fucking off back to Cyrodiil. What’s for them there?)

But there’s nothing worth staying for here either, and now she’s crammed in between strangers on a long table, everyone dressed in fabrics she’s never seen with dyes so saturated they seem almost gory, eating stuff that isn’t food and talking loud enough to make her want to hurl a glass into the wall. It’s bizarre. The woman next to her, ruddy-faced and bald, wears a headpiece that shines like the sun the Isles doesn’t have; the other side is taken up by a stranger in a bone-white porcelain mask who has not moved but to swill the wine around in their glass. There’s scarcely room for Pax’s chair. It all feels like such a baffling pantomime of aristocracy (she's known the real thing well enough – feasts and toasts and luxurious gifts she had no use for, and if she doesn’t stop thinking about it she actually will throw a glass), bright colours and rich settings and a god taking offerings at the head of the table.

At least, Pax thinks, no-one tries to talk to him; they’re too busy fawning over their lord. Which is probably to be expected; but it all feels so strange, so unsettling, the way they all lean in towards it like flowers turning to face the sun, like seaweed dragged at by the inescapable pull of the tides. They grow towards it through the cracks in the air, matter moving toward the inevitable centre, as if they can imagine nothing more than this.

(Even more unsettling is the way it responds in kind, listening attentively to anyone who speaks to it, leaning in as though to kiss them, as though to swallow them whole. All hell, why did Pax agree to this? Why did they come?)

(They should have told it to fuck off. Should have said no way, I don’t want to help you, don’t want to get involved in anything you’d need my help for. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m done.)

(Pax is done. Pax is sick to death of all this shit; doesn’t want to deal with this, the vaguely described problems of a god that picks people apart like it’s unravelling a thick yarn shawl. Doesn’t want to deal with anything like this. He’s had his fill of gods.)

(Why is he still fucking here? Why did he agree to this? This is no better than eating in that weird fucking inn in town. This is no better than –)

(That’s a lie. It’s a bit better than Cyrodiil. Just as much a shithole, but it pulls the rug out from under him often enough that he doesn’t have time to think too much.)

“Not hungry?” says a prowling voice, coiling catlike into the plaits in their hair, and Pax jumps enough to jostle the masked bastard sitting ramrod straight next to him.

He looks up.

At the empty placemat across from him sits a figure veiled in gossamer, glittering in the glow of the lit-up lichen on the distant throne; the fabric of its endless shawls pulls apart at the ends, peeling away from itself, shedding patches like iridescent insect wings every time it shifts. If Pax squints, they can see through it to the grand marbled wall behind.

She glances back at the chair at the head of the table, where something lounges, eyes dripping gold, intricately carved cane laid across its knees; its too-many fingers are laced with the hand of a man whose gown blooms floral. Flatly, she says, “What the fuck?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Sheogorath asks, pouting; she can hear it laughing down the other end of the table. “It’s a proper feast. We pulled out all the stops.”

Pax shifts their eyes away to peer down at their plate. “You have served me worms,” she says. She flicks the dish with a fingernail. “In jelly. With flowers.”

“Larva, actually,” Sheogorath replies. It’s still at the other end of the table. It doesn’t seem eager to explain this. When it smiles, the gossamer falls away; its whole face splits in half.

It’s all so fucking stupid. Pax takes a deep breath – in through the nose, ignore all the odd spiced smells, and out – and does not yell at it, or try to hit it, because she’s gotten herself into a situation where that’s not really an option, because she’s a fucking idiot. Why didn’t she just say no?

(She knows why.)

The Mad God’s teeth flash bright as the ornate silver cutlery. Its chair scrapes back from the table. “It melts in your mouth,” it tells her, eyes glittering, “but I won’t make you try it. Walk with me?”

The figure still sits at the head of the table, snatching something from someone’s plate, always, always laughing. Its limbs sprawl like tentacles, like the silken threads of a tapestry, to encompass the whole room. The dinner guests stare as though bewitched, bedevilled, beguiled. Not one of them is looking at Pax. If he were to drop dead with his face in the food his corpse would not be discovered until sunrise.

Pax sniffs and shoves his chair back from the table. He lets Sheogorath (the second Sheogorath – but it must be, what else could it be?) lead him through a narrow door into some winding hallway, the walls lined and rimed with ornate coloured-glass windows. (It’s so much quieter. Still as garishly bright, but Pax is getting the sense that that is inescapable, here; the clothes they wear, as crumpled and covered in travelling-grime as ever and startlingly out of place against the odd jagged finery of the dinner party, seem unimaginably dull in comparison. Everything seems unimaginably dull in comparison.) Outside the windows, they can catch glimpses of the city – its winding, lamp-lit streets, the jumbled mess of its architecture, the sky arcing above it like a child’s attempt at watercolours. Pax wants to smash it, tear it down.

There’s no sun here, but still it’s night. The sky has shifted to purple and black.

���Isn’t it nice?” says their companion; when they look back, it’s nothing more than a shifting impression in the stained-glass window, a series of hairline cracks. It still manages, somehow, to smile at them.

It’s not. The sky is a shadow and the flamboyance of the palace is scraping at their spine. “Sure,” Pax says flatly. When she flexes her fingers, the bruising staining the base knuckle of her thumb aches.

Sheogorath looks at her – an ancient man leaning on a stick, a flickering painting, a bloody corpse, a little girl in velvet-red skirts, a breath. In its mercurial shifting she catches the flowery blossom of the man at the table’s collar, an unpleasant glimpse of her own braided hair, the smell of sulphur. It tips its head. She can’t focus on it anywhere but for the eyes.

“You don’t like my dinner parties,” it announces, as though it’s a revelation, a tragedy; its body crumbles like sea cliffs slowly eroded by the ways. It’s annoying – bloody obnoxious, and incomprehensible, and kind of weird that it noticed, that it would even care. (She’s never liked dinner parties. Nobody ever commented on it before.)

I’ve had well enough of them, Pax could say, or no, I don’t like you, but it’s the fucking Mad God, Daedric Prince of – Pax doesn’t even know what, he’s never known much about this shit, only that it’s well worth avoiding. Prince of the mad and the missing and the foolish, of breaking and breaking and putting yourself back together backwards. She should have said no, but she didn’t, and who knows what would happen if she went back on that now?

It's slinking closer. All that stay static enough to make out are eyes and teeth.

“Pax, yes?” it says, soft-voiced – a hand lands on his arm, small and dry and shivering, the skin as thing as a mouldering leaf. “You have no obligations here. If you want to be on your own, be on your own. We’ve plenty of space for it.”

Pax’s eyes narrow. He does not jerk away from it.

In the light of the coloured sky, the coloured windows, its face is phantasmagorical. “If you don’t want to be here,” it continues – still so skin-pricklingly gentle – “then your hand will not be forced. I’ll speed your way home if you wish.”

They can’t help but twitch at that. It’s setting their teeth on edge. (It’s lying – has to be. After its ages of coaxing them in, meting out information, not telling them where they were until they were on its doorstep, it would not give them the chance to leave.) Rough, still covered in road-grime, Pax asks, “Why should I believe you?”

(None of them have ever given them the chance to leave.)

Sheogorath, a figure of hollow skin and bone, inclines its head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Pax,” it says. Its eyes are wide and bulging, whites on full display like a frightened horse; it grins again. “Others might. But we’re not a monolith. We’re not even especially similar.”

Pax bites down on the flat edge of their tongue. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

The light coming in through the windows flickers. The Mad God turns to meet it.

“I’m the youngest,” it says, its voice glittering like mist on the air. “Did you know that? I don’t remember the world without you in it.” Its form spasms, volatile, wings and limbs and eyes like a snail’s on stalks sprouting and choking and subsiding back into its mass. “I’m closer to you than any. I understand, almost.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Pax repeats. She’s gritting her teeth, tonguing at her gums where two are missing. Are two devil-gods not enough to deal with for a lifetime? Is there really going to be more of this now, too?

Rolling through the air like smoke, the voice says, “It will.”

Pax presses purple-green knuckles to her mouth. Her teeth dig into the soft meat of her lip.

Sheogorath turns to face her, hair moving as though blown by the wind, as though tugged by the tides. It sighs. “You don’t believe me,” it says. Its tongue pokes through its teeth. “That’s perfectly fine. Clever, even. But if you want to leave, all you need to do is tell me so.” It pauses, then; the train of its strange, gnarled crown shifts over its shoulders when it moves its head. “Or just leave. The door is still open.”

“You’d be fine with me just leaving,” Pax rasps around his knuckle, “after weeks of not leaving me alone?”

(Of begging him to come, poorly-hidden agitation giving way to blatant franticness, half-swallowing the fear that choked its face in every mirror it spoke to him through. Of begging him still, after he got here, after he met it – begging in a roundabout manner, casual as anything, its every motion reeking of fear. Its abject terror when he turned to leave. You’ve come this far. Why not hear an old man out? Pax told it that it wasn’t an old man, that he didn’t give a shit either way, and it slid through a child, a monster, a sulphur-burned body coughing blood, his own shuddering form in armour he hasn’t seen in months, and it said please.)

(Regained its composure, its gentleman’s face, immediately afterward. But it – the Mad God, unknowable, inconsolable – said please. Pax still doesn’t know what to do with that.)

The Mad God, now, shrugs. Taps at the hairline cracks in the stained glass windows. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” it says, one pair of hands braiding something intricate into its beard. The hand on the glass slips down. “I told you. I do need a champion.”

“And I told you,” Pax bites, something aching and ugly surging in their gut, “not to call me that again.”

A smile, bloody-mouthed and beaming. “But we will abide,” says Sheogorath, and digs its fingers into the cracks of the stone. One brick slides loose, mortar dug up under its nails. It offers it up.

Pax licks their teeth and takes it.

The brick shivers, momentarily – crumbles, in their hand, like sand slithering through their fingers, and left in their palm is a hardy slip of bone. Spiked and sprawling, carved with intricate patterns; it arranges itself around an oval of empty space, the perfect size for four sharp-knuckled fingers.

“You can always leave,” the Mad God tells them, and for a moment it does look so very young and strangely, staggeringly hopeful. “But give it a chance. I think you could love the Isles, if you choose to.”

[preciousmetaltimeofnight]

I think something we have to keep in mind as we wonder about people not noticing others going missing or being kidnapped, unless it happened infront of them. Is that people disappear on the island all the time. And they frequently come back perfectly fine. Or otherwise they come back admitting to having wanted to spend some time away from the others on the island.

People frequently disappear for a week or month and come back perfectly fine. Sometimes the explanation for this is that they were sleeping. Other times it's easy for people to think of a reason they might be gone. For example, perhaps Etoiles has just gone thrill seeking and that's why we haven't seen him all week. Then it's later revealed he was trapped in the Nether.

Of course it's odd that Jaiden's not been seen for so long. But Antoine just appeared after being gone for a month and he's fine. And sure Maxo left without saying goodbye. But he's been acting weird lately, who knows what's up with him. Maybe he's just taking bed rest, or busy in being a furry.

So while it's entirely understandable for us the viewers to want to see reactions to people being missing when we know something bad has happened to them. It's not realistic to expect a similar reaction from the characters to people disappearing out of view to people who they know have been kidnapped.

[amelikos]

Liko casually revealing that she knew Gibeon's name and nervously looking away when the others said that they haven't heard of what happened in the cave and pretending that she forgot to mention..

She really considered her heart-to-heart with Amethio a private conversation and kept it to herself.

[ahyesthesufferingoftvteens]

A stupid little concept that never fails to revolve around my head on occasion is Reeve and Kai obviously dating after the events of Season 2 and everyone knows that they're dating...except Adam.

It's not even that Adam is oblivious to romantic relationships. He isn't. It's just that he literally can't fathom the concept of his best friend and teammate & the "cringe" ADHD nerd he replaced said teammate with dating because:

A(. He thinks he knows Reeve better than Reeve knows himself and has determined that Kai is "not his type". He's seen the men Reeve date; Kai doesn't fit the bill for Reeve at ALL. B(. He thinks Kai is either straight, or that he prefers women over men. C(. ...It's Kai for crying out loud. That guy isn't getting a significant other any time soon. At least, in Adam's opinion. He's sure Kai will find SOMEONE, but not in a couple decades.

So he keeps coming up with platonic excuses in his head as to why they're being so fruity with each other. Cause Kai and Reeve dating would be so weird, wouldn't it guys?

Oh? Reeve and Kai are leaning against each other and Kai is info-dumping excitedly while Reeve patiently listens with hearts in his eyes? Aw, Adam's glad Reeve and Kai are becoming such good friends.

Oh? Reeve and Kai are hanging out with each other on the weekends a lot? Alone? They're even having sleepovers? Just the two of them? Adam sure does wonder what kind of video games those two friends are playing? Maybe he'll ask to join them sometime.

Oh? Kai's wearing Reeve's hoodies and jackets a lot? Huh, Reeve never offers his outerwear for Mira or Adam...Reeve is so nice to help his new friend like that!

Oh? Kai and Reeve are referring to each other with affectionate nicknames? Like Reeve calling Kai "Firefly", "Sparky", and "Smokin'"? Or Kai calling Reeve "Reevie" or "Darling"? That's a bit odd but, eh? These two friends must be really comfortable with each other to play around like that.

Oh? Kai and Reeve are literally making out with each other on the couch? In front of the rest of the friend group?

...What? What are they...? Guys why are they...? What do you MEAN they've been dating for SIX MONTHS?! Why didn't anyone TELL ADAM?! ...What do you MEAN it was OBVIOUS?!

[cementcornfield]

good lord my inbox is a mess lmao

[antirepurp]

oh dear jojo ova discussion is threatening to give me grade A stardust crusaders brainrot again. but like i already did a whole-ass rewrite on part3 that incorporates themes from the ova so what the fuck am i even going to do with this ??

[arklayraven]

Unpopular(?) opinion time

Those lessons and moments Solomon reveals how he made a pact with Asmo in NB. Should have come with warning to players who might/could get easily triggered from it.

Don't care if its just fiction. Warnings are still important and necessary for those times. Like yeah they don't go too graphic on details but just the implications alone are enough to make some uncomfortable and such.

[starflungwaddledee]

going on the topic of one of your latest asks (the one about clockwork stars), was that person who was talking in the art bandee?

also since the person just wished to "bring him back", does that mean that galacta knight stays in the timeline, just with meta being out of the rock candy? or does gala get kicked out of the timeline and back into the rock candy?

or even better, erase galacta's influence on the timeline?

going to answer this one incredibly vaguely...

obviously this is a pretty key moment in the AU, and i will admit upfront that the art i posted was purposefully a little bit misleading to maintain suspense haha. but here's some direct answers:

no, it was not bandee talking.

and it almost certainly would have had the first result, if the dialogue we saw had been the actual wish. but it wasn't.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

I actually have a crazy amount of respect for Nabsgan, I think Nabsgan shippers are so powerful and I'm not even into ships that much most of the time.

I think what makes me back down and write an OC and kind of get her in a Nabsgan-adjacent dynamic in my own fanwork (sort of, there are notable differences between classic Nabsgan and Saeruk) is that I kind of always felt like Nabooru was one generation younger (it's the "little girl" comment from the Twinrova + the physical differences --but then again OoT is working with 3 polygons and a bad case of Woman Sexification, and also I suppose that anyone would be a little girl to 400 year old witches), and I guess I didn't feel strong enough to dive into the fucking mess that is the "seven years under mind control" situation if there is a romantic undercurrent involved. I'm all for absolute bubbling toxicity if Ganondorf is to be shipped with anyone (I mean, also an extreme AroAce!Ganon appreciator obvs so he doesn't have to be), but I'm kind of hesitant to dive in that sort of territory given the baggage surrounding Ganondorf and his perception in fandom regarding possessiveness and the such. I have a hard time picturing him showing any interest in someone who is incapable of resisting him or biting back when he fucks up, or even agreeing to putting someone he genuinely respects and loves/appreciates in a way that may approximate love in such a mindless state (possessing their body to do weird magic stuff? yes, that's just convenient. actually breaking their resolve until they are a mindless doll he can shape in any way he likes? I think he'd hate the result and wouldn't want anything to do with it --but that's just me!)

Of course, there's always the "he didn't know/he didn't care anymore/he didn't show up when that happened and that's between the Twinrova and Nabooru, he just did not really bother to get involved", but it's still generally loaded territory!!!!

But again, enormous kudos to people willing to work that complicated line, because the dynamic is explosive and inherently interesting.