February 3rd, 2020

I like your robot

Event Recs Post

Do you know a comm that runs lady-centric challenges? Is there a prompt meme focused on the ladies? Know of something happening now or in the future that would mean more lady-centric content?


Check out the recs over on the DreamWidth post, and feel free to post yours here and/or there! If you don't have a DreamWidth account, you can comment on DW with your LJ login through OpenID.

baby tina

Half A Moon 2020: Catch-All Prompts/Requests Post

This is the catch-all post for prompting other creators and reccers to meet your needs for awesome ladies!

Leave a comment with the fandom and character, as well as a prompt or request for recs in whatever theme you want. Other people come through and either create or rec to meet the wish! Self-filling is welcome, if you get inspired after requesting.

The focus of the request should be on a woman character. One request per comment, please, to make it easier to find the requests.


Again, feel free to comment here and/or on the original DW post, and check out the DW comments for inspiration/requests you might be able to fill!


Justified
  • cmk418

The Truth - Ainsley Whitly - Prodigal Son

Title: The Truth
Fandom: Prodigal Son
Character: Ainsley Whitly
Rating: PG
Word Count: 300
Summary: The incident that started Ainsley on her career in reporting


Ainsley remembered the first time she’d heard the news. She was eight years old. Her mother and Malcolm were in the other room.

“Malcolm, no, I forbid it,” her mother had said.

Ainsley strained to hear Malcolm’s response but either she was too far away or he was too quiet. It sounded like he was in big trouble though, and she was a little happy about that. Her mother had doted on her brother and everything that had gone wrong was somehow Ainsley’s fault. She caught the trailing edge of Malcolm’s whine, “But mom…”

“Your father is a murderer!” her mother yelled. Ainsley gasped, then slapped a hand over her mouth in hopes that nobody had heard her.

All her life she’d been told that her father was away, that he wasn’t coming back. She’d never known him and any photographs of him that had been in the house were either carefully tucked away or destroyed. Occasionally, she’d dream about a man with a soothing voice. She’d felt safe in those dreams, so she assumed they must have been about her father.

Now, she knew that her father wasn’t safe at all. She crept into her room, booted up her computer, and typed “Martin Whitly” into a search engine. Headline after headline showed up and she read accounts of her father’s crimes and watched videos of news stories about the murders, the arrest, and the trial. Over time, she began to appreciate the way the story spun out through the lips of the journalists, like a thrilling ghost story told around the campfire.

She would do that, she thought. When she got old enough, she would be the one in front of the camera telling those stories. Maybe one day another little girl would learn the truth. Thanks to her.