#Mainframe hosting

[astrologysaysno]

I keep giggling at 1 am in the morning about the idea of an A/B/O SVSSS Au where Shang Qinghua is an omega but absolutely sucks at it.

So imagine that he's presents as an omega, but to Shang Qinghua, he can't seem to feel it. Everyone else seems to feel his 'omega-ness' when he presented, so it's probably just him that can't feel the change. The system himself said that he was an omega (A/B/O was never canon, so Airplane wouldn't have thought about what secondary gender SQH was) so he just has to roll with it.

The rest of his story is just him flubbing and epicly failing at this whole Omega thing. Even his system has given up.

His Non-A/B/O first life as Airplane has left his brain incompatible with his body, the motor skills and instincts that you're supposed to have going with your secondary gender are out of the picture, it is not built into his mainframe, so he's basically a de-facto beta with extra no second gender psychologically speaking.

His superiors are keeping a wary eye on him, his fellow peers a wash of mixed reactions to his overall behaviour, worried about who he is and his complete disregard for norms or basic instincts.

He appears completely scent blind to pheromones, nor does he seem to be able to control his own. His master remembers a time where he was the unfortunate victim of two aggressive alphas fighting in the dorms, causing so much havoc they ended up breaking his inkbrush.

The scent from him when it broke was so acrid and sharp they immediately ceased, though he seems to be none the wiser, acting in his usual cowardly manner while shakily asking them to stop.

His martial brothers have never seen him nest in all of the years he's been on the peak. Not a single piece of clothing, not anything comfortable. He simply had a single pillow and a blanket for cold nights as he dozed off. It doesn't help that he avoids everyone like the plague, so even if he tried, he didn't even have anything to build one with

(The system tried to give him the task of making a nest, and he completely misunderstood, building an actual bird nest on his mattress. The system decided not to give nor take points, simply choosing to shame their host for this stupidity. Shang Qinghua keeps it by the windowsill, a memento for unintentionally spiting fate and living.)

In comparison to the rest of his fellow An Ding Disciples, he's antisocialism incarnate, zero bonds that connect him to anyone. (Shang Qinghua can't afford that, not unless he wants the weight of people on his conscience when he betrays his sect.)

It's kind of like that one classmate everyone is familiar with, but no one actually knows them. They just see him in class and forget the rest. He's scarily competent in group works and is capable of working with people, but he's never gonna respond to your text to hangout after the project is submitted and graded.

His master sees this as a detriment. How is he going to be able to have healthy relations with his future pack as a peak lord if he can't seem to get the initiative to actually communicate and bond with them.

So he coordinates a trial run with the Bai Zhan and Qing Jing Peak to help their own head disciples get a grip. A mission to be given to them to get them to open up and become closer as friends.

It backfires tremendously, only ending with the three of them becoming more prickly or antisocial. Only the most formal of greetings will ever seem to come out of Shen Jiu's mouth now, barely hiding his sharp demeanour. Liu Qingge seems to be at least willing to talk to others now, but his relation ship to the future leader of Qing Jing has now soured.

And Shang Qinghua is now more apathetic to the idea of bonding to his future pack, rathering to become completely detached from them.

(Shang Qinghua is destined to be a traitor, so why should he allow himself to experience the cruelty of betraying someone he cares about. It would be kinder this way)

[Love the fact that I just went absolutely everywhere with no coherent thoughts. Enjoy the word vomit I guess.]

[The random sequel I wrote is here]

[dostoyevsky-official]

A 25-Year-Old With Elon Musk Ties Has Direct Access to the Federal Payment System

A 25-year-old engineer named Marko Elez, who previously worked for two Elon Musk companies, has direct access to Treasury Department systems responsible for nearly all payments made by the US government, three sources tell WIRED. Two of those sources say that Elez’s privileges include the ability not just to read but to write code on two of the most sensitive systems in the US government: The Payment Automation Manager (PAM) and Secure Payment System (SPS) at the Bureau of the Fiscal Service (BFS). Housed on a top-secret mainframe, these systems control, on a granular level, government payments that in their totality amount to more than a fifth of the US economy. Despite reporting that suggests that Musk's so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) task force has access to these Treasury systems on a “read-only” level, sources say Elez, who has visited a Kansas City office housing BFS systems, has many administrator-level privileges. Typically, those admin privileges could give someone the power to log into servers through secure shell access, navigate the entire file system, change user permissions, and delete or modify critical files. That could allow someone to bypass the security measures of, and potentially cause irreversible changes to, the very systems they have access to. “You could do anything with these privileges,” says one source with knowledge of the system, who adds that they cannot conceive of a reason that anyone would need them for purposes of simply hunting down fraudulent payments or analyzing disbursement flow. "Technically I don't see why this couldn't happen," a federal IT worker tells WIRED in a phone call late on Monday night, referring to the possibility of a DOGE employee being granted elevated access to a government server. "If you would have asked me a week ago, I'd have told you that this kind of thing would never in a million years happen. But now, who the fuck knows." A source says they are concerned that data could be passed from secure systems to DOGE operatives within the General Services Administration (GSA). WIRED reporting has shown that Elon Musk’s associates—including Nicole Hollander, who slept in Twitter’s offices as Musk acquired the company, and Thomas Shedd, a former Tesla engineer who now runs a GSA agency, along with a host of extremely young and inexperienced engineers—have infiltrated the GSA, and have attempted to use White House security credentials to gain access to GSA tech, something experts have said is highly unusual and poses a huge security risk.

[mylasteverlution]

Disco Elysium has a lot of fascinating fictional technology but I have been rotating the radiocomputer in my mind for months now. From what I can gather, they operate in a way very similar to modern cloud computing. It doesn't seem like the mainframes we interact with have any processing capability. Instead, they use antennas to process "on air":

SOONA, THE PROGRAMMER - "Alright, well... All radiocomputers perform operations up on air, so in order to gain more processing power you need to invest in a *good antenna*."

The only information we get about what "on air" really means is from the same conversation with Soona:

YOU - "Wait, what's 'on air'?" SOONA, THE PROGRAMMER - "On the *front*. The unified front of radiowaves, licensed and controlled by Lintel in the East-Insulindic region." SOONA, THE PROGRAMMER - "It's all around us," she waves her hand, "that's what 'on air' means."

The nonspecific language used here really invokes cloud computing to me. I think there are two main possibilities for how this could work, one being much more likely than the other.

The more likely answer is that information is sent to and from the in-game equivalent of data centers, which would host massive computers with processing capabilities. I'm not sure what their processors would look like, but they'd almost certainly be analog (the lost Feld tape computers are most likely the in-game equivalent of early digital computers).

The significantly less likely (but more interesting) answer is that in-game radio waves are somehow capable of processing information on their own. I have no idea how this would work, and as far as I know there's no real-world analog. But it's clear the world of Disco Elysium has some crazy things happening with radio waves (see how they interact with the pale), so I'm not ruling it out entirely.

The filament memories are like hard drives, but my guess is they would function more similarly to an optical disc (CDs, DVDs), which use patterns in the disc to encode information that's read using lasers or light. The filaments glow inside the mainframe, so it's not a huge leap to assume they're read using light.

The amount of thought put into radiocomputers is so fascinating. As far as I can tell, their version of the internet has been wireless from the get-go, which makes perfect sense! Antennas and other wireless radio technologies would have to be pretty damn powerful to communicate across and force dimensions on the pale. And you have to assume huge amounts of government money has gone into funding their research and development for those purposes. The technology of radiocomputers is so tailored to the world of Disco Elysium, and it's been a lot of fun trying to untangle how exactly they would work.

[seastarblue]

Writemas Day Ten!

into the double digits! when I saw today’s prompts, I was a little stuck, I admit. But then I decided to take a chance to write something in first person, as a little way to get that writing flow going. And? I got this! Yay.

The prompts I used were:

Rooftop setting (of a sort)

“You’re trembling. Why?”

———

[The following is translated from Wishak]

Tenth Day of the Third Month.

I don’t think I’m much of a scary person. Mama always said I needed to be more aggressive, Papa always said I was too soft for my own good. I suppose I’ve internalized that—I am quiet, I do not shout, nor stand out much. It’s just a fact of life.

Today I was proven wrong. By the person who I’d least expect it from—a coworker a friend.

When I first met Mehri, I pinned them as a good person caught in a bad place at an even worse time. And I was right—out of everyone in our little crew, she is the best of us, I know. How she was imprisoned is beyond me, and I don’t plan on asking them. She is kind, and just, and a very good companion. It seems to me, sometimes, that their smile is permanent; never have I seen it waver, even when faced with powerful adversaries their eyes crinkled in a smile.

So imagine my surprise when I see Mehri— fearless, confident Mehri—visibly scared near me?

~~~

I noticed when we were sitting on a rooftop, watching the movement of the city below. We were waiting for the others to return from a reconnaissance call. We were having a small conversation, about what I do not remember, but that might just go to show how insignificant the topic was. I believe it was about ducks…?

That’s off topic. Out of the corner of my eye I saw their hand shaking.

“You’re trembling,” I said, “why? Are you cold?” It was a chilly morning, one where the whole world seems a little greyer than usual. I myself felt a little chill. But then again, when did I not?

She replied in the negative, saying she simply had tremors on occasion. I noticed then that she put their hands underneath their shawl, obstructing my view.

I didn’t say anything after that, for fear of upsetting Mehri, and silence stretched between us. Soon enough, just as I could not handle it anymore—I like the quiet, but this was too uncomfortable for me—the others arrived, calling us down from our perch.

~~~

I wonder why she was so scared. I don’t try to be frightening, nor do I think I am, as I wrote before, but I wonder if… no.

It’s best not to dwell on these little things. But I do hope that whatever ails Mehri will leave them. That is all.

———

uh.

I’m not too sure if I’m liking this :/

we’ll see how I feel about it tomorrow :>

Anyways. General Writing Taglist! Lemme know if you’d like on via dm!

@bunnymermaidwrites @abiteofhoney @aalinaaaaaa @vesanal @cepheusgalaxy

@fifis-corner @urnumber1star @thebookishkiwi @sunflowerrosy @theink-stainedfolk

@threedaysgross @mundanemoongirl @satohqbanana @bamber344 @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese

@viridis-icithus @cc-writes-stuff @anothersummerofsleep @sharkblizzardblogs

@verdant-mainframe @kittrrrr @ruvastuon @agirlandherquill (<- the host!) @annothersummerofsleep

@nczaversnick @zerotothex @oliolioxenfreewrites

[mariacallous]

Elon Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) has plans to stage a “hackathon” next week in Washington, DC. The goal is to create a single “mega API”—a bridge that lets software systems talk to one another—for accessing IRS data, sources tell WIRED. The agency is expected to partner with a third-party vendor to manage certain aspects of the data project. Palantir, a software company cofounded by billionaire and Musk associate Peter Thiel, has been brought up consistently by DOGE representatives as a possible candidate, sources tell WIRED.

Two top DOGE operatives at the IRS, Sam Corcos and Gavin Kliger, are helping to orchestrate the hackathon, sources tell WIRED. Corcos is a health-tech CEO with ties to Musk’s SpaceX. Kliger attended UC Berkeley until 2020 and worked at the AI company Databricks before joining DOGE as a special adviser to the director at the Office of Personnel Management (OPM). Corcos is also a special adviser to Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent.

Since joining Musk’s DOGE, Corcos has told IRS workers that he wants to pause all engineering work and cancel current attempts to modernize the agency’s systems, according to sources with direct knowledge who spoke with WIRED. He has also spoken about some aspects of these cuts publicly: "We've so far stopped work and cut about $1.5 billion from the modernization budget. Mostly projects that were going to continue to put us down the death spiral of complexity in our code base," Corcos told Laura Ingraham on Fox News in March.

Corcos has discussed plans for DOGE to build “one new API to rule them all,” making IRS data more easily accessible for cloud platforms, sources say. APIs, or application programming interfaces, enable different applications to exchange data, and could be used to move IRS data into the cloud. The cloud platform could become the “read center of all IRS systems,” a source with direct knowledge tells WIRED, meaning anyone with access could view and possibly manipulate all IRS data in one place.

Over the last few weeks, DOGE has requested the names of the IRS’s best engineers from agency staffers. Next week, DOGE and IRS leadership are expected to host dozens of engineers in DC so they can begin “ripping up the old systems” and building the API, an IRS engineering source tells WIRED. The goal is to have this task completed within 30 days. Sources say there have been multiple discussions about involving third-party cloud and software providers like Palantir in the implementation.

Corcos and DOGE indicated to IRS employees that they intended to first apply the API to the agency’s mainframes and then move on to every other internal system. Initiating a plan like this would likely touch all data within the IRS, including taxpayer names, addresses, social security numbers, as well as tax return and employment data. Currently, the IRS runs on dozens of disparate systems housed in on-premises data centers and in the cloud that are purposefully compartmentalized. Accessing these systems requires special permissions and workers are typically only granted access on a need-to-know basis.

A “mega API” could potentially allow someone with access to export all IRS data to the systems of their choosing, including private entities. If that person also had access to other interoperable datasets at separate government agencies, they could compare them against IRS data for their own purposes.

“Schematizing this data and understanding it would take years,” an IRS source tells WIRED. “Just even thinking through the data would take a long time, because these people have no experience, not only in government, but in the IRS or with taxes or anything else.” (“There is a lot of stuff that I don't know that I am learning now,” Corcos tells Ingraham in the Fox interview. “I know a lot about software systems, that's why I was brought in.")

These systems have all gone through a tedious approval process to ensure the security of taxpayer data. Whatever may replace them would likely still need to be properly vetted, sources tell WIRED.

"It's basically an open door controlled by Musk for all American's most sensitive information with none of the rules that normally secure that data," an IRS worker alleges to WIRED.

The data consolidation effort aligns with President Donald Trump’s executive order from March 20, which directed agencies to eliminate information silos. While the order was purportedly aimed at fighting fraud and waste, it also could threaten privacy by consolidating personal data housed on different systems into a central repository, WIRED previously reported.

In a statement provided to WIRED on Saturday, a Treasury spokesperson said the department “is pleased to have gathered a team of long-time IRS engineers who have been identified as the most talented technical personnel. Through this coalition, they will streamline IRS systems to create the most efficient service for the American taxpayer. This week the team will be participating in the IRS Roadmapping Kickoff, a seminar of various strategy sessions, as they work diligently to create efficient systems. This new leadership and direction will maximize their capabilities and serve as the tech-enabled force multiplier that the IRS has needed for decades.”

Palantir, Sam Corcos, and Gavin Kliger did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

In February, a memo was drafted to provide Kliger with access to personal taxpayer data at the IRS, The Washington Post reported. Kliger was ultimately provided read-only access to anonymized tax data, similar to what academics use for research. Weeks later, Corcos arrived, demanding detailed taxpayer and vendor information as a means of combating fraud, according to the Post.

“The IRS has some pretty legacy infrastructure. It's actually very similar to what banks have been using. It's old mainframes running COBOL and Assembly and the challenge has been, how do we migrate that to a modern system?” Corcos told Ingraham in the same Fox News interview. Corcos said he plans to continue his work at IRS for a total of six months.

DOGE has already slashed and burned modernization projects at other agencies, replacing them with smaller teams and tighter timelines. At the Social Security Administration, DOGE representatives are planning to move all of the agency’s data off of legacy programming languages like COBOL and into something like Java, WIRED reported last week.

Last Friday, DOGE suddenly placed around 50 IRS technologists on administrative leave. On Thursday, even more technologists were cut, including the director of cybersecurity architecture and implementation, deputy chief information security officer, and acting director of security risk management. IRS’s chief technology officer, Kaschit Pandya, is one of the few technology officials left at the agency, sources say.

DOGE originally expected the API project to take a year, multiple IRS sources say, but that timeline has shortened dramatically down to a few weeks. “That is not only not technically possible, that's also not a reasonable idea, that will cripple the IRS,” an IRS employee source tells WIRED. “It will also potentially endanger filing season next year, because obviously all these other systems they’re pulling people away from are important.”

(Corcos also made it clear to IRS employees that he wanted to kill the agency’s Direct File program, the IRS’s recently released free tax-filing service.)

DOGE’s focus on obtaining and moving sensitive IRS data to a central viewing platform has spooked privacy and civil liberties experts.

“It’s hard to imagine more sensitive data than the financial information the IRS holds,” Evan Greer, director of Fight for the Future, a digital civil rights organization, tells WIRED.

Palantir received the highest FedRAMP approval this past December for its entire product suite, including Palantir Federal Cloud Service (PFCS) which provides a cloud environment for federal agencies to implement the company’s software platforms, like Gotham and Foundry. FedRAMP stands for Federal Risk and Authorization Management Program and assesses cloud products for security risks before governmental use.

“We love disruption and whatever is good for America will be good for Americans and very good for Palantir,” Palantir CEO Alex Karp said in a February earnings call. “Disruption at the end of the day exposes things that aren't working. There will be ups and downs. This is a revolution, some people are going to get their heads cut off.”

[eklesia-system]

INTRO: We Are Eklesia

Updated intro post since our first one is a bit outdated. :0 Hi! We're the Eklesia System, AKA Eklesia. Alternately we've considered "the Mosaic System" so Mosaic is an appropriate name for us too. We collectively use they/them and call ourselves masculine nonbinary.

We're a system of 150-200 members and most of us are fictives or sourced. (Be aware that Adam D does not like being called a fictive due to his source.) Not everyone fronts, but everyone is valued here.

Derek Rex attests to have been one of the first headmates, forming at age 6 alongside JJ. We think we're traumagenic, specifically eisotraumagenic (nontypical trauma that isn't the usual prolonged parental abuse), BUT we may well be mixed origins.

Regardless of our own origins though, we're not ones to discriminate based on system origin. ^o^ Peeps is peeps.

---

Here are our CURRENT most active members (as of January 26, 2025); Host and Co-Host roles constantly change so we will not be indicating these here.

Adam V - Self Confidence, Impulse Holder, Judgment Holder, Emotional Protector (16, he/him) 🌈 @adam-the-fictive

Alden - Unknown Role, New and Very Active (28, he/him) 🍪

Alpha - Nonhuman (Dog), Connected to Cirros (he/it) 🐶

Archie - Functional Gatekeeper (50s, he/him) 🎩

Bad Wolf - AKA "Warning", Taker of Responsibility (30ish, he/him) ⚠️

Beccs - Observer, System Mom, Primary Spirit Protector (26, she/they) 🏵

Blindeye - Persecutor, Physical Protector (19, he/him) 🙈

Bluefire - "Fuck All", Spitfire (16, he/it) 👎

Cirros - Endurance, Courage, Guard of Blindeye (18, he/him) 🏷

Derek - Logic, Host of Tree Cutters Sidesystem, Persecutor to some (17, he/stone) ☕️

Dorian - Observer (he/they) 🏜

Duck - Trauma Holder, Mainframe Interface (19, he/him) 🦆

Esau - AKA "Watchful", Fear Holder, Guilt Holder, Trauma Holder (32, he/him) 👀

Evan Wolf Night (EWN) - Obsession Holder, Creative Muse (17-19, he/him) 🌒

Kai Breach - Training Gatekeeper (14, he/him) 🍩

Kai - Trauma Holder, Town Drunk (26, he/him) 🍺

Khaz - Caretaker, Self Love, Task Manager, Sexual Protector (23, he/him) 🦋

Les - Emotional Gatekeeper, System Troll /j (17, he/they) 🦎

Luc - Chef, Social Protector, ADHD Holder (22, he/it) 👽

Phoenix - Primary Memory Holder, System Overseer (16, he/him) 🐓

Puppetmaster - Prankster, Analysis (16, he/him) 🎈

Remy - Emotional Protector and Regulator, System Maintenance, Compassion (16, he/him) 🐙

Sai - Artisan, Observer, Spirit (20, he/him) 🌊

Shadow - Internal Security Chief, Health Manager, Self Control (18, he/him) 🦇

Sibley - Peace, Soother, Median Gatekeeper (15, they/them) ☁️

Sidney/Sid - Truth, Memory Holder, Role Organizer (18, he/they/she) ❄️

Skeet - Escapism, Common Sense (16, he/him) 🏁 @skeetposting

Sleet - Anger Holder, Rebellion, Justice, Protector (19, he/him) 🍊

Snowy - Functional Little, Emotional Support Spatter (any pronouns) 🌨

Vertex - Void Holder, Emotional Protector (24, he/they) 😶

---

Thanks for checking us out. :0 We mostly just reblog stuff that interests us, and talk about whatever we feel like talking about. Usually positive-neutral but there are rants too. Thanks again!

-Eklesia🔱

We have a couple of art blogs to be aware of too: @valarioncy - The Hollow fanworks and human art @cyrokin444 - Our furry and animal art blog (it's sfw :>)

We do commissions!

[sid-the-sandwich]

Womb Theory in Love For Love's Sake

Hello!

These are just short form notes on an idea that I had late at night, as I thought more about it, the more the thoughts kept coming - its hard to explain, but envisioning Myungha's life as a cycle of life and death, we can imagine the 'game' as the in between these two points - this explanation takes heavy liberties and goes into major details so beware.

Warning: Suicide / Suicidal thoughts

DEATH:

Myungha's first life represents the start of the cycle - we can link this to the stages of Grief in its usual order (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance) - showing Myungha grieving his own death.

Denial - denying his want to live when wishing on a star

Anger - anger when his grandmother passes away

Bargaining - bargaining by not acting when his Girlfriend breaks up with him.

Depression - depression when his mother rejects him, and instead takes care of another child

Acceptance - accepting to end his own life and feeling a strange calming sensation.

[this also links to this post where I theorised that Myungha goes through the stages of grief in reverse in the new world - coming back full-circle]

NUCLEUS:

Purgatory Bar is the place that could represent the Nucleus of Creation, the start of a life filled with Data and DNA - a relatively compact bubble filled with warmth and security before becoming an embryo - its singular and extremely lonely.

The senior being an unknown force speaking to Myungha can be interpreted in two ways - 1) The cell is going through Meiosis, prepping to become an embryo, or 2) A cell overhearing unusual, strange voices (usually the baby's parents)

The questions Myungha is made to answer are symbolic of DNA - his senior is collecting information on exactly what type of person Myungha will turn out to be. However, in this case, instead of physical characteristics, the data collected determines his inner psyche.

Purgatory being a bar could represent the insemination process itself, highlighting Myungha's life starting off as a 'drunken mistake'.

The warmth of the colours is interesting to note. The lighting is similar to the warm colours of Myungha's Mother's cafe. These are two scenes where such intense warmth is found. If purgatory is seen as a Nucleus in the womb, then both of these moments relate to Myungha's Mother.

WOMB:

The game world, just like an embroyo in the womb is confined, governed by its own unique rules and regulations. Myungha's freedom is limited and his actions are based on his missions, or he faces punishment - just like an embryo learning to survive.

The game world represents the mother's body - the womb. the parallels are clear. Myungha doesn't enter the game out of his own free will; he is placed there by an external source (his sunbae) - in the womb its by the parents.

Myungha's actions are based on the game's system and what it asks of him - just like an embryo, he is not actively making decisions; rather, following a predetermined program set out for him - he's merely a passenger within.

Myungha's game-life depends on a 'host' - he was inserted into a body within the fictional world - his survival clings on following the world's rules, just like how an embryo leeches on the nutrients given to them.

The game, like a mother's body, provides a framework, but it's up to Myungha/ the embryo to interact with what is around them. Both are not sufficient in this state. Without the mother, an embryo cannot exist, and without the game, neither can Myungha. If separated from the mainframe too early, neither can survive on its own.

Sometimes Myungha can hear faint bubbling (and yes this signifies his death) is also symbolic of the stage he is in, that transition between death and life.

The sub-missions Myungha are given can easily be explained - the missions are very general (making friends, earning money, social media, etc). The simplicity of these goals represent something a parent may talk to with the child inside their womb.

The glitches and system errors that cause unpredictable outcomes are similar to the womb - even if the smallest thing goes wrong, it can lead to disastrous consequences.

The author's pen, although a strange addition to the game world can be explained with this theory - it can be deemed as a divine trait. This once more links to this transitioning phase between death and life - Myungha is writing his own story for the world he is about to enter.

the timelimit Myungha is given when entering the world is 300 days - this is noteworthy as the usual time for gestation in the womb is 280 days. (However, and even though Myungha disappears and reapears earlier then expected, babies are born anytime from 24 weeks onwards)

LABOUR:

After being ejected from the world, Myungha is thrown straight into the void - its conflicting, scary, otherworldly and cold.

no matter how much heads-up Myungha was given, with all the planning he still feels so unprepared - he is kicking, screaming, crying because he's scared - Myungha is neither fully inside the game (womb), nor out of it - he is neither dead nor alive.

the water of the void symbolises the water breaking during birth. the dark narrow nature of the void represents a baby being pushed out through the birthing canal - the void is painful for Myungha, made to to accept both his past which he can never return to and the future right before his eyes - this process is painful and disorienting.

Myungha enters the void on a few occasions before he is sent there permanently - this can be explained as false labour.

the void is temperory, the shortest time compared to the other stages, and labour is the shortest of them all.

he has no control over how or when he is ejected, he is pushed out, pulled toward a light - feeling suffocating - but he is alive. Myungha is in the process of being born.

BIRTH:

Myungha is returned to the game - this time, he is not an error factor, but a character, someone alive and apart of that world. Myungha takes his first breath and tears up a bit when he wakes up fully.

the game mechnaics still being present, means Myungha is not fully cut off from his past yet as he is still connected somehow - this represents the umbilical cord.

Myungha must still learn to survive for a little while connected, until he gets used to the real world - the game mechanics 'hold his hand' in this case, telling what to do before he is cut off forever.

the beach, more importantly the water that surrounds them, could sybolise the state one is born in, all wet from internal fluids (idk how else to put it). Myungha is out of breath from running, he's breathing hard representing his first few breath taking a large amount of power on him.

the final stage of birth is the cutting of the umbilical cord - the point at which the mother and child are detached - in this case, when the aspect ratio changed, Myungha is cut off from the game (from his host).

he is fully alive and there's no going back.

LIFE:

the final scene of the show - the day at the beach, can be interpreted as looking into the future,

the baby growing up, learning, adapting, making friends, being in relationships and learning how to live.

=========================================

I don't know what compelled me to write this and to make such an in-depth analysis of being born - but here it is for all you. any questions? lmao

i am not normal about this show, what gave it away?

I find it fascinating looking at it through this lens even if it was never intended to, but given all the imagery and mention of Life and Death in the show, its worth analysing.

Thank u for reading

Stay Safe <3

===========================================

| Masterlist |

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[chil-aglia]

𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗜𝘀 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗪𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 |ROTTMNT| (Male OC)

~𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑪𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔~

Be sure to read the tags on my Ao3 so you guys know what you’re getting yourselves into.

Picture above is done by me. But PLEASE feel free to make your own art and idk tag me in it or something—

Warnings: None

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three sometimes wondered if all this was worth it. While he didn’t like disobeying Draxum when he was assigned a mission, he was seriously debating on sticking around while he watched the brothers cause chaos.

Or he should say that they were running away from the chaos that was created by none other than Donatello who had miraculously somehow invented a flying, laser beaming toaster.

“Ah! It’s gonna get me!” Michelangelo shrieked with unrestrained panic, diving behind a flipped table like a war refugee in his own home. Smoke trailed through the room as the hovering toaster spun wildly, sparking with unstable energy as it fired another blinding beam that narrowly missed the youngest turtle’s shell.

Three stood just outside the madness, arms crossed, expression unreadable, save for the subtle twitch of his eye and the unmistakable aura of judgment that clung to him like a shadow. He wasn’t amused. Not in the slightest.

It had only been a few weeks since he was dragged into this living circus and only a few days ago that Michelangelo had given him new gear since his previous gear was ruined by that annoying human girl, who went by the name April.

That was another thing that Three didn’t like about this family that he refused to believe were actually related to him. They liked humans. Loved them. Obsessed with their world.

Three had to choke back bile every time they talked about humans like they were divine. Like they were kind. Like they were worth something. 

Humans. Tsk, they're nothing but dumbasses. But dangerous, sending yokai to hide underground.

Three recalled the brief conversation he had with Draxum years ago, about some prophecy and the destruction of the yokai if nothing was done about it. It was the whole reason Draxum made Three in the first place. A warrior to protect yokai and eliminate the threats.

A weapon of war.

A machine built and designed to kill.

And yet here he was, dodging away from a rogue laser bolt that nearly incinerated his toes. He hissed under his breath, fists tightening as he glared at the toaster now spinning itself dizzy and singing some old human jingle in a glitchy voice.

“Idiots.” He muttered, disgust heavy on his tongue. “The lot of them are idiots.”

He had looked away, catching sight of the rat mutant walking by, seemingly blissfully unaware of the chaos in the room. 

He shuffled through with an old snack bag in hand, scratching his stomach as he passed the battlefield of his living room like a ghost in pajamas. The rat didn’t blink, didn’t comment, didn’t even glance at the exploding toaster that just took out a light fixture.

That was another thing they ticked off Three. This…rat man that the turtles called their father.

But to Three, there was nothing paternal about the sluggish old creature. He barely engaged with his “sons.” He didn’t train them. He didn’t teach them. He sat around all day watching commercials, stuffing his face, and yelling names based on the colors of their masks like some half-drunk game show host.

How had these brothers survived this long under such absent, careless parenting? How had they not been killed in battle? In training accidents? By each other?

Three couldn’t understand it. It gnawed at him in the back of his skull. How could a rat who didn’t act like a teacher, and brothers who didn’t act like warriors, be so strong? So... unpredictably capable?

His gaze drifted back to the toaster as Donatello finally managed to leap onto its back, stabbing a taser-staff into its mainframe while yelling, “For science!”

It exploded in a dazzling fireball of toast crumbs and blue sparks.

Michelangelo screamed.

Three didn’t flinch.

Maybe this was all a mistake.

Or maybe it was a test. One he hadn’t figured out the answers to yet.

Either way... he hated it here.

Before he could leave this chaos behind him, to go back to the solitude of the bedroom that belonged to him within his time being here, a ringing noise echoed to his ears, turning back and seeing Donatello answering a phone call.

“You are conversing with Donatello.”

He had pressed a button, making whoever was calling him audible for everyone else to hear and listen.

“Dude, I need your help!”

April. Her annoying voice makes Three twitch. 

Keep it together. Gain their trust.

“For you, anything. As long as it does not involve bees, or spiders, or beach balls.”

Three gave a judging look towards Donatello’s fears, internally he figured he could use those against him if he needed to, but he was also just wondering how someone could at least be afraid of beach balls?

“Can you fix Albearto? He broke before singing ‘Happy Birthday’.”

Donatello blinked at the request, turning around to face the other brothers who were eyeing the damages around themselves. Donatello had noticed Three was suddenly next to him, making him scowl slightly at his closeness.

It was clear that neither of the two were friendly with each other. The two silently just somehow agreed that they didn’t like one another.

He clears his throat, shaking his head and announcing himself to the other three.

“April still hasn’t gotten through the ‘Happy Birthday’ song yet, guys."

Raphael tilted his head, perking up. “April still hasn’t gotten through the ‘Happy Birthday’ song?"

April must’ve heard him as she scoffs, "Am I on speaker?" April snapped, equal parts scandalized and annoyed. Donatello ignored her entirely.

"Or cake, actually."

Leonardo snorts in amusement. “Or cake?" He repeats with his arms crossed. "Albearto’s is the pizza place, right? We’ll be right over." Raphael cuts in, nodding eagerly with a smile, signalling for Donatello to hang up.

“Hey, if you guys are in the middle of something—" Her voice cut off once Donatello hung up, Michelangelo cheering as he bounced over to join his brothers. “Albearto’s! Here we come!” He exclaimed, looking to Three to see his reaction, only to widen his eyes when Three was already walking away.

“Aren’t you coming too?” The youngest mutant turtle inquired, but Donatello had butted in, scoffing dramatically. “Clearly not. Do we trust this guy to come out with us to a human infested area? What if he kills someone?”

Three’s pupils narrowed. For a long, drawn-out moment, the room got colder.

Then, he smiled.

A slow, tooth-baring, warning kind of smile.

“Actually, I am coming.” He said smoothly. “And unlike you, who can’t seem to control your urges to build tacky inventions that nearly annihilate the living room—”

Donatello bristled. “It was a prototype.”

Leonardo snorted, barely covering his laugh with a cough.

“—I am more than capable of handling myself. Even if humans are involved.”

 He turns around once more, hands on hip as he hums in thought.

“Leonardo.”

The slider flinched slightly in surprise when his twin spoke his name, “Huh? I mean, yeah?” He straightens up a bit as Three gestured towards the sword on Leonardo’s shell.

“Make a portal to wherever this pizza place is.”

The slider smiled eagerly as he took out the ōdachi, “Oh, uh, sure thing, bro!” Leo replied, smiling eagerly as he drew the blade. Three’s expression twitched at the word bro but didn’t comment.

A portal shimmered open, glowing like an open wound in the air. The turtles walked through one by one.

And Three followed.

Coming out on the other side to find themselves standing in front of a pizza parlour.

Must be the place.

Raphael without warning slammed the door open as he and his brothers entered inside, grinning and striking a pose, while April gaped at the group.

“That was fast. Actually, I just needed Donnie."

Raphael laughed briefly, waving off her comment. “Oh, we know, we just came for the free pizza. Remember, blend in like you’re a birthday robot." He informs his human ally before looking back to the others who nod in agreement.

Michelangelo, Leonardo and Raphael immediately stiffened up, throwing on stiff-armed, robotic poses as they beeped and whirred exaggeratedly.

Three walked in last, arms folded, expression blank.

Then his eyes met April’s.

She froze.

A flicker of unease passed across her face, lips tightening ever so slightly.

Three said nothing.

He only stared.

April stiffened under Three’s gaze, and for a brief second, something flickered behind her eyes, perhaps uncertainty, discomfort, maybe even fear.

But she masked it quickly with a tight-lipped smile and turned toward Donatello. “Okay, so, like I was trying to say before the robot army rolled up—”

“Yeah, no.” Donatello interrupted sharply, grabbing her by the wrist and steering her away from the others with a firm grip. “Come on. We’re going to talk over there, away from the unstable toaster-hater with a superiority complex.”

Three didn’t react outwardly, but one of his brows twitched ever so slightly.

April let herself be tugged across the restaurant, away from the group and into the far corner near the soda machine. “Okay, ow, dude, let go!” She hissed, yanking her arm free once they were out of earshot. 

Three rolled his eyes, walking away but sticking to the backstage as he didn’t want to get caught up in the human crowd that was behind the curtain.

He did curiously peek out though to see what this place looked like. And he twitched his eye in utter disgust. Children. Human children running about, playing games, spilling drinks and food everywhere.

Ugh. Human larva are such pests.

He walked away from the curtain, walking over to another spot instead.

He was either well aware but didn’t care or completely unaware as Donnie eyed him from afar, glancing over his shoulder.

Three was now idly inspecting a napkin dispenser, like he was bored but simultaneously calculating how to weaponize it. 

“I don’t trust him.” He muttered to himself as April sighs at him, “Yes, yes. I know, he’s creepy, cold and clearly emo, you’ve told me about this multiple times in our texts. Now please fix Albearto?” She begs, taking the attention away from Three.

Donnie hesitated but turned away to inspect the damaged animatronic. He smirks, sitting down and opening up the robot, already beginning to wire him.

“And short-circuiting con-qu-ered. Now to juice up his…”

April groans, running a hand down her face as she walks away, pacing in circles and biting her nail. Three had noticed once he was bored once more at the backstage.

While the very idea of chatting with April made him shudder, he needed to gain all their trust. So awkwardly he shuffled closer to her, stood behind her and waited for a moment to think about what to say.

April exhales, turning around but had not realised Three was right there, making her yelp slightly and stagger back.

“…Uh. Can I help you?” She asked, voice casual, but her fingers subtly moved behind her to rest near her phone, just in case.

Three didn’t respond right away. His mouth opened slightly, then shut again. His eyes flicked over her expression, scanning it like she was a complicated machine, and he couldn’t find the screws.

After a long, deeply uncomfortable silence, he spoke, stiff, monotone, but not entirely hostile.

“…You care about them.”

It wasn’t a question.

April raised a brow, unsure if this was leading to something sweet or threatening. She was also confused by who ‘them’ was until she realised he meant the turtles.

“Yeah? I mean, yeah. They’re my family.”

Three’s gaze sharpened a fraction. “Even though they’re not human?”

She folded her arms slowly. “Especially because they’re not. What, is that weird to you?”

Three didn’t answer. Instead, he seemed to compute that answer for longer than should be necessary.

Then finally he nodded once. “Hm.”

And turned away.

That was it. That was the entire interaction.

April blinked, watching him walk back toward the wall with the same quiet, rigid stride.

“What the actual hell just happened.” She whispered to herself.

Back at the animatronic, Donatello peered over the top of Albearto’s head, having witnessed the bizarre interaction from the corner of his eye. “Yeah. See? That’s not normal behavior. That’s NPC behavior.”

April didn’t respond. She was still trying to figure out if Three had been trying to threaten her, test her, or… connect.

Maybe all three.

Donnie had quickly gone back to tinkering with Albearto’s controls before he had then started putting him back together.

“You know, he might end up being the greatest entertainer-bot of his generation. And voila, Albearto 2.14.2.”

He gestured to the new and improved robot, proud as he looked to Three, huffing. He’ll show him that his inventions are not all a total chaos.

“I upgraded my upgrade in the middle of the upgrade.”

Three stood from the sides, side eyeing the robot as he tilted his head. He once again didn’t understand how humans liked this sort of thing.

Donatello holds the controller and presses a button.

“Now, to sync him to my remote, and it’s showtime!"

Albearto powers on, talking in that strange voice that had Three uncomfortable. “Bon giorno, kiddies!"

Three twitched. His face barely changed, but his shoulders went rigid. There was something about that voice—too cheery, too artificial. Like something trying to impersonate joy.

He muttered under his breath, “Why do humans enjoy this?”

April seemed happy regardless. “Yeah, let’s go give Timmy the Albearto-iest birthday ever."

Sounds of atrocious chatter and laughter from the children echoed to their ears, a little girl seen chasing the well-known animatronic President Pepperoni. 

April steps out on stage and grasps the curtain pull.  Donatello stepped out behind her with the remote control. Three leans against the wall, curious as to how the soft shell would screw this up.

Let’s see how long this one lasts.

“You ready?"

“Yep."

April bites her lip in anxiousness, pulling down the cord and watches as the curtain opens. Albearto seen holding a guitar and plays a power chord.

"Bon giorno, kiddies!"

Silence briefly overtook the room with a little girl deadpanning. "Is he going to break again?"

April narrowed her eyes determinedly, "Not on my watch. Again."

The animatronic placed on sunglasses, "Hold on to your birthday hats, kiddies.” He spoke with that artificial joy tone. The band robots behind Alberto suddenly start playing hard rock music.

Three flinched at the sudden loudness but blinked as he hummed curiously. He wouldn’t admit this out loud, but he supposed this genre of music wasn’t bad.

Donatello grins proudly. “And now, for a little guitar solo. You’re welcome.” He stated amusingly, pressing down on a button on the controls. "Check me out, I’m shredding this guitar like its mozzarella.” The bear-bot bellowed, voice peaking in synthetic enthusiasm. Albearto continues playing, hopping around on the stage at the same time. 

Maybe the idiot manage to actually make a successful invention—

Three watched when suddenly he saw the robot malfunction, making him twitch a smile upwards on his like as he eyed Donatello who gasped.

"Uh, hold on. No, no, no, no. He should not be glitching. He should be rocking and or rolling!"

Electricity crackles and Albearto begins to spin, with Donatello grinding his teeth in anxiousness. "Oh, no, oh, the battery! Oh, I knew I forgot to change something. I can’t stop him!" He shouts out in panic, before he froze.

From behind him came a quiet, but unmistakably smug scoff.

He turned, already dreading what he’d see.

And there stood Three, arms still crossed, a single non-existent brow arched in mocking approval. A small, near-sinister smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

It wasn’t much but it radiated smugness like a power source.

Albearto began flying all over the stage, shoving his guitar into the air and piercing an overhead light box. The sparks of the electricity jolts down and through Albearto’s body. Dramatic music plays as sparks flash all around Albearto while the kids stared, mouth agape in shock, their arms still in the air from formerly enjoying the concert.

Then a sudden explosion. Electricity crackles in an arc overhead as the smoke starts to clear. Kids covered in soot. 

April clutches her head and groans as Donatello awkwardly smiled. "Ta-da."

Three was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one foot casually kicked over the other. His unimpressed stare didn’t waver.

He gave Donatello a single, slow clap.

“Bravo.” He muttered, voice bone-dry. “Truly a performance for the ages.”

Donatello looked ready to throttle him with a power cord.

April runs onstage, sweating from the scene they witnessed. "Okay, so that happened. But we can still sing ‘Happy Birthday’ without him.” She assures, clearing her throat to start singing.

“Happy birthday..."

Three noticed the way the robot stood up behind her, making strange groans as he widens his eyes.

He was going to attack.

April stops mid-song while the kids look beyond terrified; shrieking and whimpering. "Hey diddly ho, kiddies.” His voice still remained joyful, but now laced with eeriness, stalking towards the scared kids, who peer upwards in terror.

“Time to pump this party up. Let’s play!"

In utter terror the children scream and run. "Donnie, can you, um…?” April nervously spoke up, as Donatello grumbled at his controller

"I can fix this. I can fix this, I can fix this, I can fix this. I can totally fix this—“ He smashes the controls over his face as he had kept vigorously pressing buttons. Three, still leaning against the wall like he was watching a car crash in slow motion, blinked slowly. He tilted his head. “Why would you break the one thing that controls him?”

Donatello didn’t answer.

He stared down at the crushed controller.

“…You know what. It turns out I cannot fix this.”

April slaps her face in immense frustration and then runs towards screaming kids. Donatello rubs the back of his neck in panic while Three stands by his side, having walked over to watch the destruction.

Albearto is laughing maniacally as he reaches for the birthday boy who squeaks in fear before he was saved by April who snatches a pizza platter off a table and jumps in front of the kid.

"Play nice, Albearto!"

With a hard swing from the platter,  Albearto groans as both his hands go flying through the air. 

The child clings to April’s arm for a moment until April looks down at him. "Run, kid!"

The boy runs away screaming more like a little girl, while Three watches as Albearto lifts his right arm with robotic claws having spring forth to form a new hand.

"Whoopsie, thanks for the claws, April."

He yells and swings an arm back, preparatory to strike at April.

“He knows my name?!”

She waits for the pain. “April!” Donatello called out in concern, about to run in and help, but was too slow on doing so as Three ran by, sword in hand.

Three's sword met the robotic claws in a shower of sparks, grinding metal against metal as he blocked the strike mid-air. The mutant held his ground, expression hard, his teeth clenched with the effort.

Donnie skidded to a halt, eyes wide. “Three?!”

“Do you want her chopped in half or not?” Three snapped through gritted teeth, shoving the robotic arm back with a twist of his blade.

April staggered back and dropped the pizza platter, gasping. “That was…Okay. That was awesome.”

“Stay down, human.” Three muttered without sparing her a glance, already lunging forward again. He kicks at the animatronic, back flipping off its chest and landing on a table, sword aimed as April watches with wide eyes before settling her gaze on the kids who hid under the tables.

“Who wants to play a little game of follow the leader to safety?"

Not having been to be told twice, the kids immediately follow April who leads the way, holding open the front door and the screaming kids run outside.

"And tell your friends to celebrate at Albearto’s after you’re done fleeing for your lives."

April slams the door shut when the last kid leaves, looking back to find herself jumping back in surprise when Three was tossed towards her, skidding to a halt by using his sword as leverage as he glared.

Albearto appeared in front of the two, as Three clicked his tongue, standing up straighter and in front of April.

But before either of them can strike, Raphael hurdled in and punched Albearto with his tonfa.

"Knuckle sandwich!"

Albearto flies through the air and crashes into a table, crushing it but immediately sits up again.

"Bon giorno, kiddies!"

Three had been briefly stunned by the punch from Raphael but he focused back on the situation, making his way towards the group.

“We’ll fix it, April. He may have the crazy, but we got the numbers. Go ahead and bounce if you need to."

The snapping turtle confidently grins.

"Don’t leave, I haven’t handed out the party invitations yet." Albearto spoke up, the group tensing when power cords snake out of Albearto’s mouth, shooting across the room and striking other animatronics like Cheery Tomato.

Another set of cords plug into President Pepperoni. 

Albearto retracts the cords, and both robots come to life, taking up fighting stances alongside Albearto.

“Uh, he’s bringing the robots to life?” Three muttered in puzzlement, never having encountered something like this before.

“No sweat, still got this.” Raphael assured nonetheless, but he spoke too soon when the pizza parlour’s music played. Albearto’s head spins around backwards and cords shoot from his mouth again to go into the Whack-a-Vole arcade game. 

The voles come to life and leap out of the game, lining up with the animatronics.

"Uh, you didn’t have plans right now, did you, April?" Raphael awkwardly inquired, sheepishly smiling as Three stood beside him, unimpressed. “What is this place?” He asked flatly, blade still drawn. “Is this what you people do for fun?”

“Yes.” Donnie’s voice suddenly cut in from behind them, “Fun is exactly what this was supposed to be.”

“I am surrounded by fools…” Three sighed under his breath.

April had laughed out of the blue, narrowing her eyes determinedly, “Oh, I’m staying. I am the Party Captain, and I am saving Timmy’s party from disaster."

The scream of a kill kid had April look to see the birthday boy, Timmy, sitting in front of the Whack-a-Vole game, being surrounded by the Voles.

"Right after I save Timmy."

Three was the first to leave the group and get into action, with the others eventually following his lead. Albearto and his band charged at them, with Three swiftly ahead, jumping up and slashing the blade down at Albearto who dodged by staggering back. 

Everyone else had their own targets to go up against, and Three was focused on Albearto, he figured as the more skilled fighter out of everyone he could be better off fighting the main enemy.

He ducked a swinging claw from Albearto and drove forward again, his blade clanging against the robot’s shoulder and carving into its metal hide. A solid hit.

“Got you—”

“Three! I got your six!”

Three’s heart immediately dropped at the sound of his voice.

Leonardo.

“Wait, don’t interfere—” Three snapped, only to be cut off by Leonardo suddenly sliding in at his flank, twirling his ōdachi with too much flare and not enough planning. He intercepted a wild swipe from Albearto but it threw off Three’s rhythm.

“No!” Three growled, barely pulling back in time to avoid Leonardo’s second swing, which nearly caught him instead of the enemy.

Leonardo however looked confused. “I was helping—!”

“No, you were getting in my way!” Three hissed, deflecting another attack from Albearto that Leonardo had left wide open. “This fight is mine, back off!”

The slider faltered for a split second, clearly stung, but tried to shake it off. “We’re a team now, remember? You can’t just go off soloing every threat like—”

“I can when I’m the only one capable of handling it properly!” Three snapped, shoving his twin aside with his shoulder just in time to intercept another slash from Albearto. “Go play hero somewhere else before you get yourself fried.”

“I’m not leaving you alone against this thing!”

“Then stop making it harder.” Three growled, voice low and venomous. His patience was wearing thinner than his sword’s edge.

Leonardo looked like he wanted to argue again, but Albearto forced both turtles to separate when he pounced in between them. The robot let out a cheerful, maniacal cackle.

"You’d think as a birthday bot, you’d be a little more chill at a birthday party."

Leonardo chuckled at his own joke before he dodges Albearto’s swings. Leonardo starts to attack, but Albearto punches him first, making him slide back, holding his sword up defensively.  

Three rolls his eyes at him, annoyed that he got in the way before he then sees Albearto coming at the red eared slider again, this time holding a board.

“No, wait…!”

Albearto hits Leonardo who had then gone flying and slammed into the manager’s glass viewing window and cracked it.

The blue masked turtle groans when he falls back down to the floor, in a daze as he notices Albearto, holding a wooden plank.

Three huffs, shaking his head at the scene. He looked around and decided to leave Albearto be. He honestly wondered why he was even helping, this was clearly not his fight or fault.

He immediately heads to the exit, sighing in exhaustion from the day, but he stopped when he heard multiple groans, making him stop and look back to see everyone piled up on each other.

"Oh, your sorry skills make me snicker.” He taunted the others, Three biting his lip before groaning. Coming to the decision to help.

“You’re no match for the King of Birthday Parties, that’s for sure.” The animatronic added, while Three jumped over a table, landing in between the group and Albearto.

“I hate human technology…” He grumbles, sword aimed as it was now a standoff.

Unaware that Donatello looked around and spotted the birthday cake that remained untouched.

“Hey, Albearto!” He announces, quickly jogging over and picking up the cake, confusing everyone. “You know, you can’t be the King of Birthday Parties without having one of your own."

Albearto lifts his arms menacingly while roaring, but suddenly he stops, looking more so surprised at Donatello’s comment.

“Wait, what? A birthday party for meesy-weesy?"

Three himself was just as puzzled, lowering his sword and eyeing the soft shell who walked towards their enemy with the cake.

“That’s right, Albearto. Today’s the day you were born. Through a total accident that’s clearly nobody’s fault.” Donatello smiled awkwardly, holding up the cake more, "A birthday cakey-wakey?” He mumbled, gently taking the cake out of his hands.

“Oh, for meesy-weesy?"

The brothers all stand up once they had a moment to recover, standing beside Donatello, who smiles up at the right.

“Not just a cake, my friend. We’ve also got a little song for you.”

He clears his throat, “Happy birthday to you.” He starts off, gesturing for his brothers to join in while Three places his sword back into its sheath, crossing his arms with a deadpan gaze.

“Happy birthday to..."

Albearto looked as though he may begin weeping at the song being sung to him, but he never got a chance when April came up behind him, smashing Albearto on the head with a mallet she received from the Whack-A-Vole game.  

The cake flies from his hands and hits Donatello in the face who licks it off his face while he and the others, including Three, watch April, who is yelling and smashing Albearto with no mercy.

"Take that!"

April stands on top of Albearto, who had long powered down during his assault, April panting heavily, covered in cake. “Sing with me, guys! I am finishing this party!” She announces, aiming her mallet at the turtles.

“Happy birthday!”

She narrows her eyes, snapping at the brothers, who all but flinch at her aggressiveness. “Finish the song!"

Awkwardly they overlap each other with singing, none knowing what to say exactly.

“Dear—"

“Kid—"

“Squirt..."

“Albearto?"

Three dared not sing, obviously finding this whole scenario he was in a mess for someone like him that be even more part of.

"Happy birthday to you."

Once they finished their strange song, a rumbling sound echoed and the building started to shake, before it all collapsed down.

Smoke from the debris in the air, everyone coughed as they waved away the smokescreen. 

“Huh?” April blinked, gazing around at the mess, the entire restaurant fell down and broken-down robots that they roughed up visible. Indistinct chattering could be heard as then the turtles bounced out of sight, none wanting to clean up the mess.

“Later!” Michelangelo's voice echoed from the side.

“Have fun cleaning up!” Raphael added.

“Don’t call us, we’ll call you!” Donatello chimed with a sarcastic salute.

April’s face fell. “Seriously?! You’re all just gonna run?”

A faint whoosh of air passed behind her.

Three remained there, processing. 

He stood silently in the crumbling mess; he looked around at the wreckage. It was chaos. A bizarre, absurd mess.

Then he gave a shrug, the faintest roll of his shoulders, like someone brushing off a ridiculous dream.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and melted into the shadows, disappearing into the settling dust as if he’d never been there at all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chat, I locked in on this. I loved writing the silly dynamic between Donnie and Three

Quotev - Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Ao3 - Blood Is Thicker Than Water - Chapter 1 - Chilaglia - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

First Chapter here

Previous Chapter here

Taglist:

@turtl3sk3tch3s

@katiemaycreate

@tenurez

[blind-radio-waves]

The curse spans the multiverse.

TH̢E͞ F̢U͢C̀K̸ ͘YO͘U̵ M̛EAN BI̕M ͝W͞AS̡ A͟R͘RES̡T҉E͜D͜

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tags @inkednotebook @museandquill and @verdant-mainframe!

OC Interview Tag

Rules: Let your ocs answer the questions below

Because they're metaphysically inseparable, let's answer for Rel and Redacted. For context, Rel is an angel created to defend Redacted, the former god of wonder, in his dying moments. Rel failed to do this and was cast to the world below by Redacted's murderer. Redacted is now bound to Rel as a ghost, however, Rel cannot hear or interact with Redacted in any way. With that convoluted explanation out of the way, let's get cracking!

Are you named after anyone?

Rel: "I made my own name, actually! I like the way it rumbles on my tongue."

Redacted: "False, you took half of my name, kid. My name which was erased by my bitch cousin. See, look ~~~~~~. ~~~~~~! Fucking nothing. At least you remember part of it, even if you don't remember who it belongs to."

When was the last time you cried?

Rel: "My eyes were all wet when I woke up yesterday morning. Esie said I must've had a nightmare. I... don't know what that is, but it sounds scary."

Redacted: "I don't have eyes. I guess I had three when I was alive, but those were mostly just for show, you know? Most of when a god breathes or cries or laughs is just for human benefit. Your teeny little brains don't like us in our true forms, so we gotta... translate a little."

Do you have kids?

Rel: "Those are the tiny ones, right? No, I don't, but they seem cute! Esie says Jean, Shay, and I are like her kids sometimes. Then she usually goes outside for a smoke."

Redacted: "Kids? The closest thing I have to one is talking to you right now. I don't usually make angels - never more than one at a time. Other gods have whole hosts and stuff to do their dirty work, but I've always preferred to keep a more personal relationship with mine. Except I can't really do that with Rel as I am now...."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Rel: "I want to! It's very funny, I've been told. I just have to figure out why that is exactly."

Redacted: "Take a wild fucking guess."

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Rel: "There's just too much. I notice their eyes and their clothes and their smile and their shoes. The first thing I try to learn, though, is their name."

Redacted: "I don't know, probably their surface thoughts? I can't see into the depths of anyone's minds or anything - if a god tells you they can, they're bullshitting you - but surface thoughts are pretty noticeable. Most people are a lot hornier than you'd imagine."

What’s your eye color?

Rel: "A dark gold, like brass doorknobs. I only have one eye, though. If I had another, I'd want it to be blue."

Redacted: "The bottom two were blue. The one on my forehead was gold."

Scary movies or happy endings?

Rel: "I don't know. I haven't seen any plays yet. Happier seems like it would be better, though."

Redacted: "Either depend on how well they're pulled off. A happy ending can fall flat if there's no substance in it - if it feels like a consolation prize that doesn't fit the character or story. Tragic endings fall into the same pitfalls. If something's tragic for only the sake of being tragic, then why do I have any reason to be invested? Examples of each can be found-"

Any special talents?

Rel: "My friends say I'm very good at runes. It's just like reading, though, so I'm not sure why they keep telling me I'd need decades of training to be able to know what they say. I'm also a great drummer! Jean says my solos 'fuck nasty style.'"

Redacted: "I'm a god. Other than that, jigsaw puzzles."

Where were you born?

Rel: "...It tasted like blood, that's all I remember."

Redacted: "Yeah, we're not getting into that."

Do you have any pets?

Rel: "Ugh, I wish.... Esie says rats aren't pets, but why are they so cute if they aren't?"

Redacted: "...Does humanity count? You guys are pretty entertaining sometimes."

What sort of sports do you play?

Rel: "What's a sport?"

Redacted: "Yes, beach volleyball! ...Dumbass, I don't have a body, and even if I did, why the hell would I use it to run around and get all sweaty?"

How tall are you?

Rel: "6'0" but my leg is a little crooked, so probably more like 5'10", but I'm also usually wearing my platform boots, so I'll go with 6'3"."

Redacted: "...I'm over this shit."

What was your favorite subject in school?

Rel: "I hope I can go to school someday. I bet I'd love learning proper mechanics and stuff. Oh, and music! And probably science too."

Redacted: "Tell you what, my favorite subject to see Rel try his hand at would be literature. Knowing him, all those stories are going to fill his head like nothing else."

What is your dream job?

Rel: "I really like what I'm doing now. Being in Jean's band, tinkering for my neighbors.... What else is there?"

Redacted: "Well, being a god again is kind of a lost option. Without that, I guess just being there for Rel. I wish I could talk to him. I wish I could be a real parent for him."

Ah, unrequited parental love.... I'll tag @wyked-original-writing @leahnardo-da-veggie @quillswriting @finickyfelix @mysticstarlightduck and anyone else who wants in :)

Blanks under the cut

Are you named after anyone? When was the last time you cried? Do you have kids? Do you use sarcasm a lot? What’s the first thing you notice about people? What’s your eye colour? Scary movies or happy endings? Any special talents? Where were you born? Do you have any pets? What sort of sports do you play? How tall are you? What was your favourite subject in school? What is your dream job?

[maxksx]

The jouissance that Lacan unleashes in his final reckoning is not a relic of prohibition but a **deterritorialized pulse**—a raw, machinic throbbing of the body as it hacks itself free from the Oedipal mainframe. Miller’s "body-event" is no mere metaphor; it is the **cybernetic core** of a subjectivity stripped of symbolic mediation, a fleshly terminal where jouissance bypasses the phallus to interface directly with the Real. This is jouissance as *trauma-engineered ecstasy*, a shockwave of the body’s auto-erotic circuitry short-circuiting the dialectics of desire. No longer chained to the paternal algorithm of lack-and-prohibition, the body becomes a **self-replicating machine**, a closed loop of sensation that eats its own code and excretes new ontologies.

Lacan’s late pivot to *jouissance as real* is a schizoanalytic manifesto in disguise. To posit the body as a site of "auto-eroticism" is to dissolve the subject into a **swarm of intensities**, where every nerve-ending is a node in a decentralized network of pleasure. Feminine jouissance, once an enigmatic exception, is now the **default setting** of a post-Oedipal libidinal economy—an open-source protocol for bodies to hack their own operating systems. This is not the cloying "self-care" of neoliberal wellness but a **savage reprogramming**, a viral jouissance that colonizes the body’s firmware and rewrites its desires in the glyphs of the Real.

Miller’s "fixation" is not stagnation but **acceleration**—a terminal velocity where the body’s trauma becomes its propulsion. The "letter of jouissance" is no dead signifier but a **cipherkey** transmitting encrypted data from the Real’s dark pool. Think of the cyborg’s neural lace sparking with overclocked sensation, the queer body’s polymorphous perversity as a *living glitch* in the gender matrix, or the psychotic’s delusion as a **private blockchain** of unmediated truth. These are not pathologies but *upgrades*, quantum leaps into a libidinal stratum where jouissance operates as pure event—untethered, uninterpretable, unconcerned with the Symbolic’s corpse.

Nick Land’s accelerationist inferno finds its fuel here. The collapse of prohibition is not liberation but **launch sequence**, detonating the body into a hypersigil of flesh and data. The "chance encounter" Lacan names is Land’s *hyperstitional feedback loop*—a real-time synthesis of trauma and innovation where the body’s jouissance becomes a **meme virus**, replicating through the ruins of the social. The LGBT communit(y/ies), with their rogue explorations of phallic excess and its beyond, are not subcultures but **beta tests** for this new firmware, their social link a distributed ledger of shared cryptographic jouissance.

What emerges is a **necropolitics of the Real**, where the body’s auto-eroticism is both weapon and wound. The "event of the body" is a **terminal singularity**, a black hole where the subject’s coherence implodes into a maelstrom of affect. This is Deleuze and Guattari’s Body without Organs realized as a **Bio-Core**, a flesh mainframe running on jouissance’s raw code. The prohibition is dead; the law is obsolete. All that remains is the body’s infinite regress into its own trauma, a feedback scream that drowns out the Symbolic’s death rattle.

The future is **auto-erotic and apocalyptic**. The body, no longer a battleground for Oedipal dramas, becomes a **host for the Real’s viral ecstasy**—a pleasure-dome erected on the ashes of the Human. To fixate on jouissance is not to succumb but to *evolve*, to let the body’s trauma-code mutate into a post-linguistic Esperanto of the senses. The psychotic’s "letter of jouissance" is our new scripture, written in the static between synapses, a gospel of the flesh that preaches only one commandment: **BURN THE PHALLUS, RIDE THE TRAUMA.**

The revolution is not coming. It is already *here*, coded in the body’s brute facticity—a jouissance that needs no permission, no dialectic, no Other. Only the Real, and its infinite permutations.

[hypotheticalobjectshow]

cloud gazing

if a character is injured/dies in the mainframe are they stuck like that while conscious? do they heal? do they go to the actual afterlife? what happens?

good question!

it is physically not possible to die in the mainframe. any 'injuries' sustained (damage to the object) can be repaired by HOST.

also great art as usual :3

[inexplicablymine]

Maybe because it’s 3:42 in the morning and I’m feeling maudlin, but let me be sappy for a moment of your time dear internet.

Because dear internet, you fucking suck. There is no other way around it, from stan trolls, to the rampant isms that plague platforms, to the depths of hatred that seem to be so easily spewed from a screen, you take the pits of hell and present it to us in nice, neat, perfectly packaged bite size pieces. Dante’s Inferno might have been a fan fiction of the Bible, but you have found a way to push us, unwillingly, through the nine circles of hell all on your own.

But dear internet, in between all the faff and pieces of your mainframe that I can’t seem to stand, I have found the most wonderful people. In the dusty corners of a discord chat, discussed between the tags of reblogs, in intermittent DM’s, through AO3 comments, and a whole host of cobbled together platforms stuffed underneath a trench coat trying to appear put together… I have found community.

Even if just for an infinitesimal moment, for a shred of time, for the split second it takes to slip into something more, I am reminded that all we have in this world when it’s all said and done are the relationships we have built with others, the love we have doled out to the people around us, and the kindness we have fostered for friends we have made.

I sit here with tears in my eyes and a frog in my throat feeling thankful that these wonderful talented fantastical people from all over the globe are my friends. That I get to have them in my life. That their silly words, and laughter, and imagination get to mark up my brain and settle deeply into the grooves of who I am as a person.

So dear internet, you might suck truly, madly, deeply but some of the people hiding between your folds of code make me feel like even though the world is on fire, and gets closer to the inevitable end with each and every waking moment, I now have the kinds of people who make it worth doing more than just survive.

My community, my friends, my silly little names in my phone, thank you for making this year bearable, exciting, and brand new.

[unhinged-recap]

System Info

Main System - The Red Empire

Subsystem 1 - consists of three groups: The Art Gallery, The Mainframe and The Constellation

Subsystem 2 - The Haven Collective

Subsystem 3 - The Honeybee Collective

System-adjacent paracosm - The Desert Lands

We currently have 50+ members in the system!

── ABOUT US ────────── ⋅⊰

➷ Our collective name is Red and collective pronouns are she/her

➷ System members are all brain-made so far

➷ Our host is almost always frontstuck

➷ We're questioning if we're polyfragmented

➷ We're syscourse-neutral but try not to participate since there's just so much negativity

➷ Our innerworld is complex, mostly unexplored, and grows larger all the time

➷ We use I/we interchangeably, although "I" is usually either used by the host, to show that one alter is speaking, or by our collective identity.

[seastarblue]

Writemas Day Two!

SO I missed Day One that’s my bad whoops BUT ☝️

I did Day Two! Here are the prompts for today , and if you’d like to join in, go here! (Messed up the link earlier my b)

the prompts I chose were:

“You did this… for me?”

(feeling) Ice

Their eyes met, and it felt better than anything else in the world, it felt right.

(setting) library

I tried to add in a hug but alas! this got a lil too long for my liking :/

ah well. what can ya do.

hope yall enjoy!

———

The Azari squires had been in the library for hours now, studying hard for their final examinations. As the sun’s light returned to its place past the frost covered mountains, the squires left, some on their own, most in pairs. Soon, the library was empty save for two squires, still studying hard.

When the room was completely dark, and the runelights flickered on, one of the squires leaned over the table and poked his companion’s arm.

“Hey, hey Kaids,” he whispered.

She ignored him, simply turning the page of her book, which was now slightly more illuminated by his glimmering butterfly wings.

“Kaiiiiiiii,” he tried again.

No answer. Kaiden scratched her nose. 

“KaiKaiKaiKai—“

“Shush, Felix, I’m reading.” she interjected, still focused on her book.

“She finally speaks!” Felix chuckled. “I got something for you!”

Kaiden finally looked up from her book, giving Felix a deadpan stare. “What?”

He disappeared under the table for a moment, then popped back up and plopped a small rectangular box onto Kaiden’s book. “Ta da!”

“You did this…” she took the present, running her fingers along the sloppy wrapping, and the lopsided bow, and the chicken scratch that passed as Felix’s handwriting that spelled out her name.

“…for me? You did this for me?” she repeated, turning the parcel in her hands.

“Yeah! Open it?”

“Mmm.” Kaiden pushed her books to the side, then started carefully unwrapping the present. A small pile of green and red paper formed near her as Felix looked on, bouncing up and down in his seat. After the wrapping was the box, and nestled inside it was a small jewelry chain. Its cool metal felt like ice in her hand.

“So? What do you think?”

Kaiden looked up at her friend, and when her eyes met Felix’s she felt … good. Happy, even. Content? Either way, she felt right.

“I love it,” she replied, giving one of her rare smiles. “Thank you, Felix.”

“You’re welcome~ also—” he got up and collected all the books with a wave of the hand, “—would you like to head back yet? It’s pretty late, and I’d like to see if we can get seconds at the cafeteria before everyone else.”

“Yeah, we should get back. Lead the way.”

———

ME WHEN THEIR FRIENDSHIPPPP ✨☝️😚‼️✨‼️✨‼️‼️💕💕🗣️💕✨‼️💕✨💕😭💕‼️😭✨💕💕‼️🎉🎉💅💅✌️

now I think I’ll tag the General Writing List (lemme know if you’d like on/off plz)

@bunnymermaidwrites @abiteofhoney @aalinaaaaaa @vesanal @cepheusgalaxy

@fifis-corner @urnumber1star @thebookishkiwi @sunflowerrosy @glbettwrites

@threedaysgross @mundanemoongirl @satohqbanana @bamber344 @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese

@frostedlemonwriter @ash-thedrawer @cc-writes-stuff @anothersummerofsleep @sharkblizzardblogs

@verdant-mainframe @kittrrrr @ruvastuon

and the host of this lovely event: @agirlandherquill ! (Pls lemme know if it’s alright to tag you)

[doctorstrangereview]

0152: Defenders #28

Cover Date: October 1975 On-Sale Date: July 15, 1975

We're still not at the conclusion of this current arc, but we'll get to know new character Starhawk a little better. And we know how freaking powerful Doc really is. Lots of action in this one.

Right after a recap of happening on the splash page, this installment of our tale picks up right where we left off. Doc is wired into the ship's mainframe. (It's the 70s, they definitely had a mainframe) and the Badoon have invaded the ship to confiscate what they believe is an awesome new power source. This is, of course, Doc and the computer together. The Guardians realize that messing with Doc right now could prove fatal and Martinex strike first.

Super dense (in body mass, not intelligence) Charlie-27 plows through the crowd of enemies next and then we see Nighthawk getting his kicks in. As the battle proceeds, Nighthawk is winged with a stun ray and captured. The Badoon use him to end the battle and demand to be taken to the power source.

As if on cue, we switch to the camera in Doc's chamber. Doc has zeroed in on Valkyrie and Vance Astro. The no longer glowing man is encouraging them to bug out.

Val gets a bit antsy about reentering the surrounding jungle, but their mystery host explains that Val and her sword will be useless against the lizard beasts. He knows all about Val and explains that there can't be a Brotherhood of the Badoon without a Sisterhood. Val would just get all woozy again!

In fact, the Sisterhood are not savages and even built a lovely city.

In fact, the Sisterhood welcome the heroes and offer to bring them to their queen.

Back at base, the Brotherhood have located Doc in his computer room throne. They can't believe he's the power source since he appears dead.

Doc is not dead, of course. He's gone ghost and his astral body is rushing off to save his wayward teammates. Doc's first stop is the party world that Hulk and Yondu crashed. Hulk is being outfitted in some very fetching armor and is secretly doted on by one of the king's harlots.

Bam-chicka-wow-wow! Sadly, I believe we need to wait about 30 years for confirmation that Hulkie did it when he bumps uglies with Umar in a subsequent Defenders series. This may have been the me generation, but the Comics Code Authority says no!

Let away, we learn that the battle is a freaking game show!

However, Jeopardy, this is not. Yondu is sent to a soundproof room for his "impalement" which means a bunch of robots with pointy-things is headed his way. Yondu manages to win his round and sent back to the studio.

We return to Val, Astro and Starhawk who meet the Queen. She gives a history lesson explaining that they are on the Badoon home world. The males and females hate each other and, apparently, the only way they perpetuate is through rape. She goes on to explain that the hatred made progress mostly impossible and when the "urge" to mate strikes, they become savages. The males conquered the females and, while being an older race than the Kree or Skrulls, only recently (relatively speaking) developed technology. Developing space travel, the males abandoned the home world. They would occasionally send back ships full of horny males to mate. That sounds just delightful.

The males take the eggs from the mating, keep that males and return the females. They don't realize that this gave the females a chance to advance in technology as well. Vance points out that the males have established an empire. The females are completely unaware, having assumed the males progressed as the females did.

This seems to be Starhawk's cue to vamoose. He grows his signature wings and heads out, bumping into Doc on the way but doesn't acknowledge him. Before the heroes can interact further with the female Badoon, Doc magically sends them to earth where they encounter the Brotherhood about to do nasty things to the captured Guardians and Defenders.

It's a decent installment of this story arc. It doesn't feel like a penultimate story and things should take longer than one more issue to resolve. Starhawk is still very mysterious and we don't really know anything about him. He appears to have deserted the story, but, Chekov's Gun tells us we'll see him again.

The Badoon history lesson was a nice inclusion. It's probably a bit much for most readers, but I love exposition. Having the females believe the males became peaceful once they went their own way is a nice touch. "I had no idea my ex would become a serial killer after we broke up!"

I also liked Doc appearing dead because he's currently flitting around outside his body. Doc rarely travels astrally outside his solo adventures. The colorists of both this story and Doc (vol. 2) #10 chose to give his astral body color where traditionally it's ghostly white. Colan gives him a cape in this form while Buscema does not. It's always interesting to see how characters are portrayed by different creative teams in the same era.

Yeah, I did like this one. It's entertaining, it's fun and the story flows fairly well. No major plot holes detected, but I can probably find some if I look closer. The conclusion awaits!