televise the great disaster

@hetchdrive

i'm mir and i like scifi ☆ b. 1995 ☆ ⚧︎ ☆ my ao3 is hauntinghouses and my storygraph is mireanthony

I need to just grit my teeth and outline this fic so I know what the fuck happens next. I know how it ends and I know like, several secondary character arcs. I should be able to do this. I'm a good writer (delusional)

I want a pint of ice cream but I don't want to put pants back on :/

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Trying to get out of a writing slump! Send me ghoulcy prompts and I'll write a little snippet~

@hetchdrive's prompt: When Lucy first stepped out of the vault all I could think was damn I bet I’d want some sunglasses in her situation. Get Lucy some sunglasses 😊

The cloudless sky offered no protection from the sun. Lucy felt like she was being cooked alive. Sweat plastered down her bangs and stung her chafed thighs, and a hot ache had settled on her cheeks.

Worst of all, it was so dang bright she couldn't even see, really. It burned to open her eyes past a sliver. Lucy squinted into the white-heat of the day, barely able to make out the shape of the Ghoul ahead—wait a second. She put a hand to her brow, shading her face.

Where was the Ghoul?

Suddenly, a cool shadow passed over her and Lucy startled back, falling into a defensive stance. Her vision danced with sunspots in the new dimness.

The Ghoul scoffed, "Ease up, sweetheart." Oh! It was him. His dark outline held something toward her face. "Hold still."

The temple-tips of sunglasses slipped over her ears and all of a sudden the world was cast in an easy greyish-blue. Lucy blinked up at the Ghoul whose craggy hands still hovered near her head. He was just...staring at her . Did the glasses not fit? A spike of self-consciousness had Lucy reaching up to adjust them. "Is there something—?"

The Ghoul's hands dropped. He looked away. "Found 'em on a corpse," he said gruffly, turning on his heel and continuing on. "They suit you better. I guess."

There’s a post about how we need more female characters who genuinely care about people but are really bad at caregiving, and honestly that fits Kira Nerys really well. I’m thinking of Starship Down where she’s tasked with looking after Sisko and keeping him conscious when he has a head injury, and she just starts visibly flailing despite making an effort to hold it together. “Listen up…. because there’s going to be a test later” and then trying to keep him alert by droning on about duty rosters because she gets Task-Oriented when things are in dire straits and does not know how to scale things to a more personal level with someone she has a working relationship with.

Like, so much of how she deals with emotionally fraught situations is by getting up and doing something about them (even so far as traveling back in time) or just keeping busy to avoid dwelling on the matter at hand. When her father was dying, her response was to go out and kill some Cardassians about it, and then order another attack upon his death, rather than sit by his bedside. When Bareil died (pre-resurrection via mad scientist noodling) she went right back to work despite Bashir telling her she didn’t have to. It is a trauma mindset from someone who witnessed a lot of death and suffering and had no choice but to pick up and keep moving and keep fighting. And when she has to sit down and really focus on someone else’s vulnerability, it’s very uncomfortable for her. She cares very deeply about the people around her but she’s clumsy about it.

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