#the not having access to WIPs thing though is very much on the 'torment and suffering' side of the hell scale

[thirteenemeraldcats]

Roses for use whenever!

*kicks WIP pile under the bed* DON'T LOOK AT ME.

I haven't had access to any of my WIPs for over a week, so, what's a dumb-dumb to do? Start more!

Jamie whimpers again, the sound muffled from where his face is pressed tight against Roy’s abdomen, as the bus rocks slightly beneath them. Kenneth has been careful since Jamie first went down, cautiously easing the coach to a gentle brake rather than the somewhat haphazard way he usually approaches deceleration, but Kenneth's efforts and his Coaches’ careful hands still aren’t enough to protect Jamie right now. His player’s obvious distress raises a frantic sense of helplessness in Roy, and he has to tear his eyes away from the walnut-mist head he’s cradling in his lap. Instead he stares straight ahead, studying the uncharacteristically subdued Greyhounds scattered in front of him. Between their unfamiliar silence and the eerie glow of fluorescent red lights filtering in through the front window, cast from the traffic light that’s ceased their steady progress home, Roy doesn’t find the reassurance he was looking for. As that violent red glow changes to a vivid green and the bus again resumes it’s forward motion, Jamie doesn’t make any more noise. Roy wishes he could delude himself into thinking that means he isn’t in pain but his eyes have caught on the shaking of Jamie’s bloodless fingers where they’re curled into a claw, desperately digging into the meat of his side.  Jamie’s still hurting. Jamie’s trying to be quiet.

[idontknowreallywhy]

WIP-what-on-earth-have-I-got-myself-into-here…

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Ash had had access to both of their files for a long while… the visible parts anyway. The extensive redactions? Not so much. Well… now his new GDF rank meant he could get past those too but he hadn’t dared. Partly because he wasn’t sure it was a can of worms he was ready to face. Not now he had Scott back after so long.

The other big reason he’d resisted was because they’d know. The decryption keys were personalised… they’d know both who and when. And three weeks into the new job was a little early to risk getting fired.

Or worse. Knowing them… probably worse.

Tonight though, hours of the puffed up, clueless idiots squabbling about the new outbreak had forced him to relive so many parts of his experience ten years before that the phantom pain was almost unbearable. He rubbed at his lower leg, trying to fool his mind into thinking he was comforting the missing arm, soothing the nerves that tormented him but that he could never reach.

Scott hadn’t lost anything visible. But Ash knew they’d stolen a no less crippling part of him too. He’d watched his friend from a distance, scratching at a a similar untouchable itch in so many subtle ways. How much of his friend’s confident, controlled outward demeanour was as synthetic as the fingertips Ash realised he was rapping against the desktop? He flattened his hand, grimacing at the supposedly-unnoticeable delay between thought and movement that had rewritten his future.

Ash knew what his friend had lost. And he couldn’t help feel responsible - he should have been there. He’d spent countless sleepless nights trying to figure out how he could have prevented it all, if he’d spotted the clumsy sabotage as he should have, swapped with another jet… maybe he could have got there in time. Got him out.

Instead he’d just sat there shaking and bleeding and sobbing and helpless as first Scott and then Val’s radios had cut out. If Ash hadn’t passed out from the shock of his injury perhaps he could have got her out at least…

No. They’d got it right in her jet. She wouldn’t have known a thing.

EHZ007 was all over Scott’s file. And each time the reference was used, the following sections were blacked out. If he knew why, maybe he might get closer to finding out what had happened and why.

At the very least he might be able to reach out to his friend, to help him find closure. If he knew better what had occurred between that last desperate shout over the radio and the day that the gaunt face of his best friend had asked him to leave the ranch and never return.

It would look highly suspicious if the first Top-Secret graded file he accessed post-promotion was that of his old wingman. They were clueless in some ways, but not in all of them.

Giles, though. He looked at a lot of the TS material just for fun and bragging rights, if his boasting was to be believed. And this evening Ash had watched the man unlock his work phone with 1234. Someone that uncreative with passcodes might just have used the same one for everything…

Officer ID, rank code, personal pin, age in days. The man’s date of birth was on his Wikipedia page and so… Ash now had everything he needed.

Except the courage. He’d been staring at the encryption alert box for over an hour. His shoulder ached.

He disconnected his prosthetic and dumped it on the table before snatching up the scotch bottle and refilling his glass.

He typed in the number.

PASSCODE ERROR.

He swore and retyped it.

No! The man had clearly used another pin. Damn.

He drained the glass and dropped his head to the desk. It was probably just as well.

Out in the hallway his great grandmother’s clock chimed once.

It was later than he thought.

It was… tomorrow.

He sat up, cursing his own idiocy and typed the code again, increasing the last digit by one. The screen refreshed and the blacked out sections disappeared.

He was in.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[u-amqi]

Pinned Post - Blog Information

This blog is my otherkin/fictionkin/nonhumanity based blog, but might stray away from those topics at times.

If you know my main blog, please refrain from mentioning it here! Ty!

About Me:

Amqi/Amnuqevsi or Jacky

18 years old

she/they/he (very fluid with my gender, so this is put in preference order [on average], but i honestly don't care too much)

otherkin (mainly relating to crows but also a handful of other animals, like snakes and sharks)

fictionkin (mainly Amqi, she makes up a lot of my identity; kin list can be found [here]

I am part of, and host of a system (no syscourse!) called "System [£ЯЯ0Я]" / "[£ЯЯ0Я]", that name might change in the future though. As someone else might post here, for any reason; my sysmates and their sideblogs (Only Eight has one ATM) can be found here:

Eight / The Heretic ( @o5-eight ) [system co-host/protector] {Usually speaks with red text and signs off as "-8"}

Meri / SCP-166 (Maybe remake in the future, she is dormant atm)

Two (Unlikely that she will have one)

S██████ ████ (Unfortunately too disrespectful to others)

Post tagging [WIP]:

#amqi's nest - stuff like this, usually will be linked from here somehow, just general about me and account info

#burning a building down thats underwater - pr/essure kin tag

#basically just the containment torment nexus - scp kin tag

#(fandom/source) - for reposts of art about source

More about Amqi and The Wing (her organization) below the cut.

More about who Amqi is:

Amqi (full name: Amnuqevsi,) is a major part of my identity and a permashift fictionkin. I added this to my pinned (might move it to a separate place later), because she is an "oc", so finding information on her is tough. This is mainly for people that are curious about Amqi (and her organization) and want to learn more.

Before you start, this will probably be written a bit weirdly, with a bit of clutter, so my apologies if that's the case, might touch it up from time to time.

[ABOUT, AMQI:]

Amqi is an anomaly "oc", that I made years ago, for the SCP universe. Amqi is an alien, whose species is one that closely resembles an anthropomorphic version of a corvidae. Amqi holds the ability to shapeshift, and it is not an ability that is shared with her species (as far as I am aware). Her shapeshifting can be affected by electricity (either that is forcing a shift to happen, or inhibiting her from doing so), and that is the full extent of her anomalous properties (unsure if her long lifespan is one or not though). [This next paragraph has a lot of varying information, based on timeline, so I will try to generalize it] Amqi was acquired, at a young age (before maturity), by the foundation, with force in the early days of the SCPF. This is why Amqi is very resistant towards the Foundation, and has been a pain to them ever since her capture. Amqi was contained for a very long time, but eventually breached and went on to make her own group known as "The Liberation Wing" (or "The Wing" for short).

[ABOUT, THE WING]

[THE WING'S GOALS]: Breach sentient anomalies from the SCPF, and then provide housing for them (main goal); annoy the Foundation; and to protect the anomalies from organizations who had malicious intent for the anomalies. The Wing was most likely allied with the Serpent's Hand. Amqi was the singular head of The Wing (titled as "Ulna", "Ulna Amqi", or "U-AMQI".), though she had a very small amount of staff under her, who helped with jobs that she was too busy to do. Though most things about The Wing were decided by the anomalies housed there (like a vote), to make as supportive of an environment as possible. The Wing housed anomalies in apartment-like modules, with the ability access to the rest of the premises at their will. The premises basically was built and functioned like a small town would (pretty much just one building though.) Anomalies were housed instead of being left in the world (by the anomalies' choice of course; they could leave at any time, if they wanted to), due to concerns of safety for the anomaly. Besides, most anomalies chose to stay, as The Wing offered a great sense of community and assistance to the anomalies.

[searchingforatrail]

Summary: After his ordeal with Mandroid, Megatron begins avoiding Twitch first.

(wip! you can subscribe to my ao3 for the update)

For the most part, Twitch was the most wholly self-sufficient of her children. At least Dorothy liked to believe that. Sure–Nightshade had their arsenal of science projects that would put any doomsdayer to shame, and Hashtags unlimited access to the internet and technology in general placed her at an inhuman level of preparedness, but when faced with the stressors of life, outside of the lab or away from the internet, Twitch was in her element. 

Be it a impromptu rescue mission, or a much needed pep talk at a family game night (or right before charging into a gun fight), Dot could count on Twitch to take lead. Again, she was self-sufficient. Sometimes to a fault–Dot wanted none of her children to grow up faster than they needed to–but self-sufficient nonetheless.  

So when Twitch broke the biggest rule one summer morning,  hovering into the dining room above the breakfast table, speaking so fast that her words became one large, run on sentence of worry and panic, Dot knew her daughter’s self-sufficiency had run out. 

Dot covered her coffee as Twitch flew over it, mindful of the grains of dust and dirt she’d most likely collected flying into the home. The run-of-the-mill complaint usually reserved for her rowdy children died down when Twitch transformed midair, orange eyes wild with fear and concern. Dot felt her heart slam against her chest. She swallowed the nausea down with bitter coffee, and with it pushed down the memories of her tormented children that haunted every inch of her being for the past few months. 

“Sweety, calm down, what is it?” She placed a comforting hand on Twitch’s shoulder, interrupting her rapid fire concern. 

“It’s Megatron, Mom!” Finally, her words formulated into a legible sentence, “he’s acting weird, but not his usual weird. Just very weird. I tried to talk to him, and train with him, and he just avoids my calls. He told me to meet him somewhere and never came. He’s been acting really weird like this mom! For a while now. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to worry you, but he doesn’t hang out with us anymore.” Twitch paused, taking a breath that she did not need to take (but copied from Robby, usually after one of his rants at his online team) “He won’t do things with us anymore. Especially me, and he always does things with me!” 

Dot sighed, descending into her chair in the same breath. Her children were safe–good. She let her heart slow its pace, though the uneasiness did not leave. Megatron was still family. She tried to relay the past few months in her head, reviewed the time she and Megatron had spent together. Between establishing temporary places in Witwicky to set up Cybertronian settlements, one would have thought they would have spend more time together. And as Dot sat thinking, thumbs rubbing circles in Twitche’s palms, she realized that she hadn’t actually spent more than at least an hour or so with him. In fact, she seemed to spend more time with Optimus than Megatron. 

In all honesty, she hadn’t thought much of it. Megatron was busy, very busy. And the newish, unwilling leader of the Decepitcons. But that was then, this was now. Currently the bureaucracy had died down, and instead the respective scientist of the different causes had dedicated themselves to fixing up the Space Bridge.  And if Optimus could manage an hour or so every week to bother the Malto’s, than surely, so could Megatron. 

Because with what Twitch had told her, this was less of a “I’m super busy Dorothy, I’ll get back to you later” and more of a “I’m in a broody mood and avoiding you for an undisclosed reason.” 

Still, rather than upset her child, Dot smoothened her worry just as any good mother would. “Twitch, honey, I'm sure Megatron is just very busy. He needs to make sure that everything for the Decepticons are safe. But how about this, I’ll go check on him today and let him know that you’re missing him, okay?” 

Twitch beamed, metal arms embracing Dorothy tightly. “Oh, thank you mom!”

Dot squeezed back, tapping Twitch's shoulder when the hug became a little too tight. 

“Sorry Mom!”