semi-selective indie multi. featuring original characters from action and spy thriller genres. inspired by media such as call of duty, triple frontier, mile 22, jack reacher, and the unit. (squid. they/them. 21+)
HVNDREDBATTLES. An indie, selective, original character multi-muse blog centered around action and espionage genres, written by Squid (they/them, 21+, pacific time).
This blog will include mature themes and triggering content, which will be tagged appropriately to the best of my ability.
blogroll: @hvndredbattles (milsim with verses for ld+r shifters, the pit.t, and other odds and ends. you are here!) @hvndredstories (slice of life + supernatural themes), @hvndredrolls (fantasy/dnd-type), @hvndredzones (verse-locked post-apocalyptic desert dystopia AKA danger days)
Keep reading for some important notes about the writer.
I am a full-time graduate student, and I am often slow on turnaround with replies. To that end, I'm a very low pressure writer! I believe in getting to things in your own time and/or liberally dropping what no longer vibes. Nothing has a time limit! You can take literal years and I will simply be excited to hear from you.
My ask box and IMs are always open to questions, plotting, et cetera! That said, memes are a also great form of first-time engagement! Or just general engagement! If we are mutuals, consider this blanket permission to send me memes or tag me in starters (even unprompted ones). We do not need to have talked ooc before, nor does anything need to be plotted!
I do not respond to guilt-driven calls for interaction. If you would like additional writing, memes, or attention, please ask for it directly. I do not interact with "like to remain mutuals" posts, nor will I continue jumping across blogs if you remake under claims implying that you are breaking mutuals or offering people clean breaks. If I didn't want to be in your space, I would not be.
I utilize the following for comfort and/or accessibility: multi-space to single (via Tampermonkey), much of the Xkit Rewritten Extension's suite of tools and tweaks, the Reader View Firefox extension, and (ironically) the Dark Reader Firefox extension to convert pages to light mode. My biggest hurdle for accessibility these days is gdocs. It resists a lot of attempts to visually alter documents for viewing purposes.
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hi hello still alive, also still being smothered by my program. this might be a "very very very sporadic writing, if any" notice until August when I finish. i have been having more success writing small things on discord, if that is of interest to anyone (let me know if yes!). love y'all <3
Hello as a note (I'm not rly around rn still beyond lurking) I have not seen the last two episodes of this season of the medical drama. I will not be watching them until I am in a better headspace for them. I am liberally blocking tags and posts as they eek past but as a note, I will ask no one bring spoilers to me. Thank you <3
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what’s a song you’ve overplayed while writing but still love?
Oh this is a good one! I don't always differentiate music I'm just vibing with from music I specifically listen to while writing, but "House of Cards" by Bad Omens is in my heavy rotation for this blog, and it still slaps.
I normally don't come out swinging with playlists BUT I'll let you in on a little secret and say that this of mine playlist has been the backdrop of writing here for a while and they are all still bangers.
just poking my head in to say i am daily lurking on dash, i'm just struggling to find the muse to actually Write. because grad school. as you do. but know that i am around! and writing on disco.rd a lil. and talking on disco.rd! moots can ask for it and i'll add back! <3
Befriending me means inevitably being subjected to my strange collection of knowledge. Today's series: science facts from when squid studied astrophysics.
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“Healing isn’t heroic. It’s repetitive. It’s stitching the same kind of wound at three in the morning while pretending you don’t see how easily it could’ve been yours. People think we’re fearless. We’re not. We’re just practiced at swallowing it long enough to keep our hands steady.”
if you hear a distant cry it's the sound of a tiny squid going supersonic over the realization that i'm supposed to be done with this program in august and we were never given a roadmap or specific guidance going into this "cumulative project" so. it better not be a thesis because i don't have one! yay!
Hi hello I have been lurking and doing school stuff mostly ANYWAY I am thinking. About doing a tiny shuffleshuffle with nurse!richie's tineline, just to give it... a little more logic? Some grounding? So I'm thinking he went the ADN -> BSN route, just so he was degreed, could pass licensure, and work while getting the BSN, which would have given him more time for hospital-specific work experience, and makes him in a charge-nurse position a little more... he'd have more experience for it? Yknow? And I think he's eying the idea of an MSN because skfdjkd tbh he's bored when he's not working
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No one asked, but I think most meaningful conversations Richie has with his father happen over guns in one fashion or another. Life advice while hunting, talking about life over trap shooting, that sort of thing. The rest happen either in the estate's sitting room over expensive liquor, or with legal documents in front of them. (They don't know how to talk if they're looking at each other.)
Most of his meaningful conversations with his mum happen late morning or late afternoon over tea on the rear veranda.
@w4rfared / i'm thinking about this a Normal Amount
It's a chore and a half, days like today. Stupidly, maybe, he'd hoped the storm wouldn't be so bad this time. That his joints wouldn't ache. That his muscles wouldn't wind tighter and tighter. That the migraine and the spasms wouldn't follow. That when he woke up in the dark, in pain but able to shuffle around if he had to, not getting up to collect what he might need wouldn't bite him in the arse.
When he wakes again, it's in agony, and with the certainty that he'll just end up on the floor before he makes it all the way to the bathroom if he even tries.
Richie would have survived without Marco, of that he's certain, but it wouldn't have been pretty. Even with him, it still isn't. The lancing pulse of his migraine and the accompanying nausea had made sitting up for meds an unpleasant start. After had come identifying what went where, and then dragging himself out from under his blankets enough for application.
He flinches from touches to the more harrowing scars, and hates that he does. Even his own fingers rubbing cream into the skin of and around his scarred cheek turns his stomach more than he'd care to admit. It's exhausting. He's old and he hurts and it's exhausting to hold himself the way he's used to. Proud and certain and solid. Whole.
Christ, he's fucking tired, all the way down to his bones. Maybe it's the meds. He tells himself it's the meds.
But he's nothing if not stubborn, and some of these will only get worse if they're not eased. So they re-cover what had to be exposed for the topicals, and he talks his way through helping Marco help him. Bruises his ego on some of the sounds he makes as they coax away stiffness.
It's the first time in a long time he's let anyone touch him like this. Intimate but not sexual. It's the first time ever that it's not just methodical, even if he's not so cognizant of that fact.
Pushing wrings him out. Worse before it's better, because he's just at his rope's end and his nerves are a little shot. He lets Marco help him back into bed, too. It's just easier. Marco is warm, solid bulk. Something to lean against that he knows isn't going to give under his weight. A touch easily walking the line between gentle and firm. And he knows to grab the pillow for Richie's head before he's mostly flat. Gets it under him before he's laying down.
His hands ache. Richie still latches onto Marco's wrist before he can pull away. He pulls, once. Stay. The word's caught somewhere in his chest. Hazy blues seek out Marco's face. Stay.
He doesn't have to say it. The bed dips under him as Marco's weight settles.
Now there's someone on watch. With effort, Richie rolls onto his stomach. Now there's a familiar warmth at his shoulder, where he's pressed to Marco's hip.
"Rest, caro."
He isn't aware of the tension still pulling from his shoulders down until the knot keeping taut the worst of it—his own stress, and displeasure—is loosening under Marco's palm against his back.
Richie tries for a hum. Acknowledgement. Confirmation. He'll try again, now. It comes out more of a grunt, but Marco doesn't seem to mind. The hand doesn't leave. So Richie breathes in. Breathes out.
