#no idea how canon compliant this is

[qwertycake]

Jericho Soberanis <3

[good-beanswrites]

My thoughts on how the Milgram mv machine works based on the evidence we have:

(I know there’s been discussion about where exactly the interrogations take place, but wherever they are,) the prisoners are made to sit in a specific chair near the wall that houses the machine.

It’s ordinarily hidden, but the wall panels shift aside to reveal it when the mechanical sounds play in the dramas. As well as the walls moving, the chair transforms to restrain the prisoner and attach whatever it takes to access their brain. The fact that none of the more frightened prisoners try to run or break it makes it seem like they physically cannot. This is why Fuuta sounds so panicked, and why Amane is suddenly helpless in front of Es in their T1 vds.

(My mind conjures very classic sci-fi mad scientist machines with wires, pipes, lights, nodes, needles, etc, but I’d love to hear how other people visualize it.)

In some vds (maybe all? I’d need to check,) you can hear Es take some steps right before their iconic line -- it would make sense that for safety reasons, the power mechanism is placed across the room. Once again it could be anything, but the sound effect makes me think of one of those giant wall-mounted levers you have to pull down.

The voice dramas don’t really provide the type of crime details that an actual interrogation would reveal, and it’s odd that they’re placed before the extraction rather than after Es gets to see the new details. This leads me to believe the machine functions with priming. All Es needs to do is get them talking about their murder, so it’s on their mind.

The video produced is much like a (non-lucid) dream. Even if the prisoners figure out that this is how it works, they can’t control it just by thinking really hard about something else. The murders produce the strongest emotional affect, and that’s what it picks up on. If someone else used the machine, it would default to whatever gave them the strongest emotional reaction in the ~15 minutes beforehand, hence why Es’ video focuses on their daunting task ahead. (The Undercover theory is still a bit loose, though, given the private shots that Es wouldn't have known about). It’s why the videos are usually closely linked to the vd topics/beats. I also like to think that the reason their prisoner colors appear so much is because they’re looking at those colors on their uniform 24/7.

The bell rings to inform Es that it’s the optimal time to use the machine -- the prisoner has been thinking about things for long enough that the video will be about their crime, and if the conversation lasts much longer they’ll start thinking of other things. It’s at a different time for each prisoner because it’s based on the specific conversation. I guess Jackalope is listening in to the interrogation, timing it perfectly. (The only one that kind of messes with this theory is Yonah, because they just keep talking afterwards lol, but it could just show that the interrogation is still in Es’ control.)

Their “Sing your sins” is the final priming nudge to get them to think of their actions as a sin, revealing their guilt.

Once activated, the prisoner enters a sort of trance/sleeping state. It’s very much like REM sleep, with the machine forcibly activating neurons and recording the output. The prisoners have asked Es what they saw, meaning they don’t remember the mvs. I like to think the prisoners do experience the mv in real time, acting as the major version of themself that appears, but can’t remember it afterwards. It’s when you experience a dream, but as soon as you wake up you’re just left with fleeting emotions and memories right on the tip of your tongue.

The video plays immediately upon extraction -- whether on a huge projection or little screen depends on which room it’s in. It simultaneously saves the memory so that Es can rewatch it later (on those old TVs in the jailbreak mix). The machine downloads the song and video together, but requires special parts to retrieve them. The technology is pretty new and fragile, so if one is broken, there might be a delay between when Es can hear the extracted song and see it with the video. (That’s my justification for Kotoko’s delays -- after 9 prisoners the parts wear out, or maybe Mikoto himself overheats it with his complex situation.)

Based on the lack of conversation we get afterwards, I picture Es leaving before the prisoner wakes from the trance. The machine adjusts their brain back to normal before they awaken, restraints freed and able to return to the rest of the prison.

It’s very much like a dream, so it’s not harmful despite the amnesia/head injuries the prisoners have. It does, however, exhaust them. Brain activity alone takes a lot of energy, so forced brain activity with added emotional strain would cause them to feel pretty drained the rest of the day.

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[myreputatioooon]

You could make a case for Romero being descended from Dad Quixote, pre or post turning

[crownedwille]

.

[wispscribbles]

In light of MW3, I’d like to do a little self-indulgent self-promo and recommend my old fic Love comes with a Price. I just reread it myself and it hits different now

[essenceofarda]

also on the note of headcanons i cannot fathom elves living centuries if not millennia without questioning their gender identities at least once lol

I'm a cisgender woman and I question my exact gender identity or presentation like... twice a year at least lmao

[basilibino]

Season 8 was like 6 years ago(I feel old) and I know ppl have differing opinions on the Mr Echo thing (but it was intended, made it to storyboard and blocked animation and then dropped, soooo) but. I can see his recruitment p easily tbh. Bc the whole reason Dr J was in that lighthouse was because he was resurrected, forced there, and ordered to build Skulkin vehicles by Samukai. But Samukai in the flashback we see has already been deposed as leader of the Skulkin/Underworld. Which means the orders to do so most likely came from Garmadon.

And since Mr. E is one of the head honchos, he's likely an early arrival to the team, so I don't think Harumi has a whole lot figured out at this point, she's just got her Trauma and some Bad Influence Friends and an obsession with Lord Garmadon. So. Like. Plausible deniability road trip that she's just visiting important markers of Ninjago's recent past, all of which involve Lord Garmadon in some meaningful way; its sightseeing, its cathartic, and it gives her time to develop her dream Motorcycle Gang/Resurrection Cult. She's not looking for anyone at the Lighthouse, but she is looking for vehicle blueprints so she can be the Koolest leader on the block. But oops she looks in the basement and there's an Echo.

And she's flipping out bc??? A Ninja???? In the Lighthouse basement??? I mean it makes sense that it would be this one but???

Except this rusty old robot has no idea what she's talking about with this Ninja stuff, he's just waiting for his dad to come back.

And Harumi pauses.

Because how long has he been waiting? He's not sure, he had no proper way to measure time in the basement, and he doesn't have the best view of his clockwork heartpiece. But it was after his father saw a strange ship docking; Echo was worried it was the People who had locked up his father in the first place, but instead his dad sounded happy when he saw whoever was out there. It could have been a front, though, as clearly it was never safe to let Echo back out. Then Dr J popped down briefly, while everyone above was resting, to tell Echo he was desperately needed elsewhere, that it wasn't safe to bring Echo, but that he'd be back in no time.

And the pieces are fitting together for Harumi. And she's like. Your dad's dead, bro.

And he's like. What? Did he die doing what was needed of him?

And she's like. Oh, no. He died a few years later.

And he's like. Why didn't he come back for me????

And she's like. Probably because they kept him away.

And he's like. Who's they?

And she's like. The Ninja I was talking about earlier.

And it surely can't be hard in universe to find pictures of Zane and Dr J post s2-pre s3, so she pulls one up and shows Echo who is freaking out bc why is that one kind of like him and Harumi explains that that was the droid his father created first, that he became a Ninja, and that hes probably the one who took their father away and kept echo waiting for years.

But Echo has doubts, shocked as he is abt a new older brother, he wants to believe the good in the situation so he's unsure. But Harumi mentions that the Ninja's failures to uphold more than their self preservation/interests has led to uncountable losses and devastation in Ninjago time and time again, before delving into her own story. And she seems so kind, and so hurt, and I do think there's a genuine connection btwn these two that forms from this shared emotional torment that they decide came from the Ninja, and now Echo is more receptive.

And then Harumi gets to start her Garmadon pitch because wait! If Echo was made here, then that could only have happened because of Lord Garmadon. And she reiterates that he's the reason she and her city could have even survived The Great Devourer. And maybe Echo's family-by-creation left, maybe they were untrustworthy and lacking, but that's OK bc if you look at it all a certain way, Garmadon is more of a father to Echo than Dr J was. And Echo is a vulnerable, overwhelmed mess who just found out his dad fucked off for years without him and also died, and also he has a brother??? Who their dad clearly seems to have favored??? Did they even know about Echo??? Did they delight in their life free of him???

Basically. Kinda Spinel-core but getting abandoned and left completely alone does that to you. Especially when the first person to find you after being abandoned is a deeply hurt and misguided teen who is probably kinda desperate for someone, anyone else to see the Ninja the way she sees them.

[nettedtangible]

My Grandmother called me in the middle of me reading choices

GM: are you okay sweetheart you sound dreadful

Me: *sniffle, dabs away my tears* yeah I just have a cold

[hirazuki]

The Lieutenant of Angband and the Lord of Himring.

Idk who managed to tick them both off or how, but congrats, I hope they are running XD

From a fanfic idea that I've been mulling over in my head. Usually I'm more of a missing scene or canon scene reinterpretation type of person, but I do enjoy some good old canon divergency now and then ^^ I just want them to interact more freely, without the constraint of chains and cliffsides, you know?

[transdimensional-void]

wanna write more bookworm fic…

[wynandcore]

“Hidden away inside a computer exists another world. It’s creator designed it for games” HOW HAVE I NEVER PROCESSED THIS QUOTE ITS THE LITERAL FIRST LINE IN UPRISING?? The grid was initially designed for games?? So like. Technically it could’ve become a game had Flynn not been all “yo I remember that time I went inside a computer. Wonder if I can make that happen again and make like, a whole new world” ???

[burnorgetburned]

HAVE YOU SEEN NEWEST WALPURGISNACHT TRAILER? PLEASE DO. MADOHOMU WALTZING MADOHOMU WALTZING MADOHOMU WALTZING -

Yes, I absolutely have! Someone showed it to me almost the second it dropped.

I feel VINDICATED. Clara Dolls are my heart and joy and they are so adorable in that trailer, I am bursting with delight. I still think it’s deeply unlikely that they’ll make Homura yandere-ish (thank fucking god) but her Clara Dolls are somewhat exaggerated ways of showing her true feelings. The dancing Doll could very well work against her because her desires are so strong—or not even that, the Doll could simply be playing around or trying to help. Clara Dolls are a JOY.

I spotted my favorite Doll (Ibari/Pride), plus Vanity, the one looking in the mirror. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that Vanity is visibly more innocent-looking than our actual Homura. Unlike her Maker, she is full of joy and whimsy hehehe

I’m not sure if I’ll do another “here are my thoughts” kinda post, but just know that the new trailer is wonderrful.

[infernal-feminae]

I feel like my Stella very much toes the line of

You can make her better

or you can make her WORSE

[revvethasmythh]

Character ask game: how about a 12: headcanon about Relvin and Liliana's life togethrt before she noped out for a moon death cult?

I like to imagine that when they were growing up, Relvin always knew who Liliana was (she had purple hair; hard not to notice) but she didn’t know who he was. That is, until her powers started to develop and she could hear into people’s minds and heard him absolutely mooning (pun only half intended) over this girl with purple hair who didn’t even know he existed. i like to think maybe she approached him after that and that was the start of the relationship

ask me about a character

[loudsnapdragon]

-- okay, so i've never posted a wip before, but i've been staring at this word doc for three hours and really want to send some of it out into the world without much explanation, so have a wip wednesday without warning. from a robin buckley character study, it's some angsty stobin post-starcourt --

Later, ash and dust settled on the burnt-out shell of the mall, cover-ups plastered all over the newspapers selling slower than the ultra-fast gossip that spreads in the smallest of smalltown suburbia, and her wrist still sore from signing like, a million NDAs, somehow the worst injury she sustained, she returns to her favorite debilitating coping mechanism. She hides.

Her parents are blissfully unaware of the truth, spending the summer digging out the lawn and working on a too-late vegetable patch, picking out weedy carrots and raising them up high so she can admire them from her bedroom window, waiting until she responds with a shaky thumbs up before they chuck them into a wicker basket. She shuffles back under her sheets without showering or brushing her hair. She stays there for seven days.

Her mom drops off mugs of tea, organic chamomile and lavender, kissing her forehead, checking in. Tells her Sarah from band called. Robin won’t remember to call her back. Her parents haven’t given her time limit on the freak out, but they’re expecting it to end soon. Her mom tells her a bedtime story of some folk festival in Nebraska going alight with her dotty friend’s forgotten cigarette. The patchwork tents in flames just another funny anecdote from their previous childless nomad lives. I get it sweetie, it’s scary, mom says, fussing with her hair, dragging the longest strand down her back, clearly reminiscing to the time when Robin was uneducated on The Runaways, before she gained an affinity for cutting her hair short with her dad’s razorblades.

I’m so glad you’re okay. Take all the time you need.

And Robin nods, because she is okay, in the grand scheme of universe shattering things. Her mom hugs her, and like always, she forgets to hug back at first, the motion only kicking in after smelling the arnica medicine rubbed onto her mom’s elbows. The sensory trigger doing the trick. But arnica doesn’t scent her dreams, it’s just sickly-sweet ice cream and tepid water from the nasty mall fountain and the strawberry cleaning chemicals they used to pour down the cinema toilets and oh, Steve’s blood. The dark red drip scabbing at the edge of his mouth, the rancid iron she could smell from even three feet away.

The next day, she finally leaves the house. Takes her bike and cycles adrift through Loch Nora. Like, it has to be one of these rich bitch houses, it has to be. But she doesn’t see a Beamer, even if she did, she probably wouldn’t recognise it, and she doesn’t find a handy mailbox with orange neon light details blaring: STEVE IS HERE.

She does find Carol Perkins, popping gum as she lazily waters her family’s front lawn, the sprinklers broke with the last big power outage, and she says her mom is going to be pissed if the grass is anything less than lime green. She wouldn’t normally talk to Robin this much, but eh, privileges of being a victim of the supposed Starcourt electrical fire must win her some short-lived perks, cos when she asks which direction is it to Steve’s (cos even if they’re not friends since the dingus’s dramatic high school dethroning, Carol always knows what's up) Carol doesn’t even try to be mean, she just pushes her gum to the inside of her cheek, and says that Steve doesn’t live in this neighbourhood. His place is on Elm Street, largest house there, you can’t miss it.

She cycles faster than before, hunting down a desperate unidentifiable need. Knocks on his door as soon as she sees it, sudden dread filling her with the thought that it could be the asshole dad to open, but no, she exhales, it’s just Steve. He smiles, scratches his nose. He didn’t expect her visit, he tells her, needless information considering his current outfit, a pit-stained basketball tee, plaid pyjama pants, and a single greying sock. 

We should do something.

Cool. Sure. Um. Let me get my keys.

He gets changed into jeans and a clean polo first, thankfully, but it’s only a few minutes later that they’re sitting in the Beamer with her bike stashed in the back. He asks her where she wants to go, and her brain empties of all articulate thoughts. In the quiet that follows, peppered with the tinkling of his keys as he fidgets with them in his left hand, she’s flooded with everything she’s tried so hard to not think about.

There’s blood, loads of it. The elevator floor falling beneath her feet. Vomit landing in the water of the toilet bowl. Monsters, real life monsters, squelching with human guts dragging over the mall’s star-patterned tiles. But that’s just the background noise, the slow bass line to the screaming chorus. He knows, not everything, but he knows. She looked it up in her copy of that dumb D.A.R.E. pamphlet, Ketamine can take up to fourteen days to leave the body. It can make you inexplicably happy and numb to external disturbers. It can warp your reactions. Make bad things appear good. And Steve, someone real, knows.

Slowly, so slowly she doesn’t realise it until his big man thumb is digging into her palm. And oh, look at that, they’re holding hands again.

It’s going to be okay. It’ll get easier, I freaked out so bad the first time, but like, you get used to it.

It’s not just that. She admits, but, um, thanks. Thank you.

What’s up?

You really don’t care? She waits, sees his slanted not-so dumb eyes blink as he tries to understand. About me?

Oh. Yeah. No. No. I don’t care. Like, bummed I got rejected by another pretty girl, sure, but also, well… we’re alive? Aren’t we?

He squeezes her hand, and once again, she gets it. Why all the other pretty girls used to fall for him. Fuck. If only she could be normal. But it’s enough. She looks down at her scuffed sneakers, Sharpie-ed Patti Smith lyrics on the rubber dropping into the footwell as the soles peel around her toes. She knows where they need to go.

Cool. Let’s go shopping.

Nice. He snorts like a boy. Releases her hand to turn the ignition. Fuck yeah, let’s go shopping.

Shopping for designer-clad Steve usually involves a short road trip to Muncie, so she takes a little thrill by squashing that plan, suggesting the thrift with a cheapskate smirk instead. And ah, of course naïve ex-rich boy Steve didn’t even know Hawkins had a Salvation Army, so she has to direct him as he drives. Ah, to be an oblivious member of the upper middle class, ignorant of all the grimy places she considers local landmarks.

Do your parents know? Steve asks from the driver’s seat.

They’re not talking about Russians under Starcourt. But also, they are. The ambiguity frees up a little breath caught in her throat. She's not scared to tell her parents, but she's not ready. Maybe never will be.

No way. Yours?

Nah.

He opens the store’s door for her when they get there, waving her in, like they’re on a date, which makes her laugh, which makes him grin. She can tell he’s putting it on a bit, his general snooty disdain for everything inside, comically put-upon disgust when picking up a pair of grubby cowboy boots from the shelves, which do, to be fair, smell like horseshit, but come on Steve, they’re real cowboy boots, they’re going to have stepped on some horseshit in their previous life.

Eddie Munson is in the corner of the store, picking through the jewellery display before diving headfirst into a box of cassettes. Not an uncommon sight in these parts, but she steers Steve away from that section, not yet sure if she can trust him yet to resist acting cold around the super-senior freak, like he used to when Eddie stumbled into Scoops to buy a butterscotch waffle cone.

Mrs Mulgrew by the cash register never smiles, but she seems quietly tickled by the smartly dressed boy Robin’s dragged in, and she waves them over, showing off a recent donation of genuine silver teaspoons. Robin tries a joke about stealing them to sell on the illicit teaspoon black market, which makes Steve roll his eyes, gently bumping Mrs Mulgrew shoulders, like: God, I can’t take her anywhere. And Mrs Mulgrew’s icy composure cracks, her crinkly wrinkled lips itching at the sides into an almost-smile.

She buys some old black work boots and two oversized man’s shirts, and Steve clearly, really, really doesn’t understand why out of all things, those are her purchases, but he doesn’t say anything. Both of them still figuring out how much they can push the line. The snide remarks stilling on their tongues when the obvious need for something kind is binding them together.

She kicks off her old Converse in the car before they drive home. Shoves on the new boots and wiggles her toes under the steel caps. Counts out the last few dimes left remaining in her wallet and curses under her breath.

We need new jobs.

Yeah, duh. Steve says, and Robin smiles, because they’re finding their line. She grabs at his hand.

We are going to find gainful employment. She swings their hands into the air, like it’s a joke, and he laughs too, but they are a we, now, and she might never let go of this hand ever again.