#The Real Diana

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

In a very unlady-like rebuke, Lady C reminds the public that she stands 10 toes down for 2 Teams:

Team Charles & Camilla

Team The Duke & Duchess of Windsor

[hiraeth-doux]

[pbnbucks]

word count : 308

warnings : insecurities, fluff

summary : Pregnant reader being super tired and over worked and Diana taking care of her and talking to the baby and complaining about being too old to have a baby

your swollen feet were being placed on a newly fluffed pillow Diana set down for you as between each of her task she would stop to place few kisses on your tiny bump that held your little bean.

“i cant wait to meet you my little angel.” she sung out rubbing your belly as she laid down next to you cuddling into your side.

“our little princess” you say adjusting her hand moving it to the right side of your stomach placing her hand on the part you felt your little bean kicking.

she laughs insufferably as she felt the baby’s kicks vibrate off your belly as she watched your stomach contently. “be nice to mommy” she coos as she brings her head back down to study your stomach.

you quickly snuck your phone off the end table snapping a quick picture dedicating it to the phone album with thousands of pictures that contain Diana in them.

you hear her mumble a soft cry as you feel her body sink down on to your stomach as you rub her back. “huh?” you mutter before placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

“do you think im to old?….” she says as her voice grows insecure with herself as the pregnancy gained her criticism for waiting so long, diana’s reasoning was she wanted to wait for the right person and when she met you she knew then that you where destined to have her baby.

“your not to old baby, your perfect” you say softly trying to reassure her confidence in your relationship. your heart broke seeing her doubt herself as a mother role.

after talking with her for a while your sentence was cute short by the sounds of her relentless snores that bounced off the walls as her body created the perfect blanket for you.

[terukotime]

i'm going to fucking explode

[antigonick]

"I feel ill," he announced. "I'm going to bed, where I may die."

—Diana Wynne Jones, Howl’s Moving Castle

[bruciemilf]

The justice league thinks manbat is Batman in his true form and will ask him to transform if a fight is too hard and Batman would be like:🤨???

Here's the thing; Every Justice League member aside from Clark and Oliver is convinced Bruce has a superpower. They just have different theories on what said superpower Is.

Diana: Shadow manipulation

J'onn: Has a plan for everything and a PowerPoint presentation for any subject. Any. Subject.

Barry: Bottomless cape

Victor: Endless utility belt

Arthur: Indestructibility/abnormal pain tolerance like what the fuck

Billy: Scaring the fuck out of people with a look alone

Hal: Telepathy but with kids only

[taurasiluvr]

꩜ 𝐑𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐍 — 9teen, mercury fan first, human second. bisexual fem, mixed lebanese (yes, like the race) and black-american. free palestine !

⟡ sfw but will be interacting/writing smut (dni if you are a minor) ⟡ ⟡ writer (certification from delulu university), part-time student, full-time bop. mommy issues to the MAX, country music lover, avid pnd listener. cc defender, diana taurasi's controversially young girlfriend & marc guiu's cougar. ⟡

➜ requests: open !

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 taurasiluvr writing | ry yaps | ry's moots | ry's anons | ry's fic recs | ry's nsfw recs | rylin's whoring hours (exactly how it sounds like - nsfw thoughts/asks)

𝐃𝐍𝐈 if you . . . support israel in any way, shape or form. transphobic, homophobic, racist or any kind of bigotry.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

© all writing credit to @taurasiluvr 2024

[soranatus]

Happy International Women’s Day to one of the most iconic women in fiction: Wonder Woman!

[dailydccomics]

Wonder Woman by Terry and Rachel Dodson

[brotherconstant]

Agent Singh Bally Gill in Slow Horses | Season 1

[tukkiwing]

the white-clad figure fleeting.

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

Okay but now I feel compelled to wonder, in that fun AU of CC and Marilyn being Captain and Mary Marvel, what their lives as heroes would be like

Like, villains are the same for the most part with probable lack of antagonism with Sivana, he’s the dude who hired them for the dog in the first place with the public intent of a historical attraction at a park and on the side of the bus he’s campaigning for mayor. Other than that, villains seem to be the same from the brief moments we see.

They stay out of the limelight, they prioritize keeping their identities hidden for the sake of Billy and Mary’s saftey and childhoods, and they take their duties seriously.

But what’s tingling at the brain right now is how they’d interact with the rest of the world of DC, heroes and teams and whatnot, outside of Fawcett and the menagerie of characters there. We know CC accidentally stumbled onto some daring scene with Spy Smasher and the bunch (no joke, time was funky in Fawcett and CC was alive at that time) but I’d love to see him with other heroes

Like, say he fills the normal roles in comics Billy would’ve, joins JLI and, like his son, tries calling the other heroes out for acting like bigger juveniles than his actual kids and ditches bc apparently the people who save the world on the regular cant not try and fist fight the other every few hours. He’s on and off some team, focusing on his city and his family more and more, pops in for bigger fights when they occur but is mostly hometown based and handles his own issues.

Of newer stuff, I turn to YJ’s tv show for another idea. Aka, CC also being a chaperone for the Team at the same time Billy comes in but with a twist, turns out his kids have a percolation for magic and have been getting the hang of some spells so they’re joining the Team too while CC is on chaperone duty. So leads Billy and Mary’s attempt at a slow entrance into heroism that immediately backfires when they get captured, cue heartwarming scene of dad hugging his kids after a dangerous situation that follows him tearing the base apart looking for them. True dad fashion and all that. What becomes complicated is the World Without Grown Ups plot, in which I say have Billy and his had pre-the plot agree that Billy can have Shazam powers for super big emergencies and Billy definitely counts all adults disappearing as an emergency. Cue once more the fun father son bonding of Billy looking just like his old man with Shazam powers.

Onto Marilyn, who unfortunately doesn’t seem to have more beyond “clever” and “good mom” from comics, but she’s got her hutzpah and would probably be as active a hero as CC while still prioritizing her life and family over heroism. The whole Shazam thing is definitely more a job than it is what kind of person she is, she’s an archeologist and likes that profession more than she likes worrying about everyone else. She’s definitely more no nonsense and, if there’s a difference, she’d probably prefer the more grounded crime fighting than the mystical shenanigans CC would do in her stead. Billy and Mary end up closer to her in quality time since that focus of crime fighting keeps her grounded.

Also, the general vibes of the Captain Marvel tropes. Such as the identity shenanigans.

It is a fun thing of fanfic that, since his civilian identity is very vulnerable and people like their identity plots, Billy has his questioned or revealed a lot. Add in CC as Marvel instead and it flips a bit to be a man who is well known in his home city whose entire family, non-powered children included, could easily become targets if anyone knew who he was. And he’s deliberately secretive about it for that purpose, he’s protecting his children with his wife. So, perspective, there’s a new hero who comes in with a hero partner who is also their life partner. They have the power of actual gods and titans, they don’t explain anything past some nebulous Wizard they can’t name as to how they got their powers, they are very hush-hush on their normal lives but everyone knows they have to have one. It’s hard to contact them, you don’t know they’re working or traveling or with their kids because you don’t know they do work or that they have kids, so you worry what they’re up to for what seems to be every hour they aren’t begrudgingly saving the world with the rest of the heroes. You catch them talking to the other but the minute they hear you they clam up and change everything about how they were just a second ago, you could swear they were talking about digs or gods or bringing someone home but you don’t know anything because you don’t know them.

Cue the mistrust, the reveals, how it all goes wrong and someone gets hurt, be it the other when they don’t have their powers or their kids and suddenly you’ve pissed off the man who loves his family so much he was tearing the multiverse open to try and keep the timeline going where they were all alive and happy together and the woman who loves those kids just as much. Or, say that reveal had villains get both of the Batsons, and now those heroes have to look those orphans in the eye and beg forgiveness, and when fate still demands its heroes out comes two new ones that make it seem like the whole Batson sham was fake and no way Marilyn and CC were the Marvels, the marvels are still flying around after they’ve gone and gotten dead and buried. Cue those heroes looking at the new Captain and Mary Marvel, knowing it’s the kids they accidentally made orphans wearing the faces of the friends they betrayed.

[covertblizzard]

Something so funny to me about the fact that for some reason Wonder Woman isn't here, but Superman and Green Lantern are (and Aquaman but at least he has more reason to be here). Also the way that Superman looks like he is pointing at Robin (because he and Batman are co-parenting) and Green Lantern is in-between Kid Flash and Speedy (because he's their honorary uncle) is very fun to me!

[pbnbucks]

could you do dt headcannons?

Diana Head Cannons

FLUFF

・cockiest mf alive

・will say any inappropriate joke she can think of, doesn’t care if your in public

・will randomly wake you up at 3 am if shes bored

・only will fall asleep if you rub her back

・princess treatment always being returned

・biggest gentleman ever, always opening doors for you and will randomly spend money on you

・for some reason gets turned on when you spend her money

・will wear your favorite colore of basketball shoes to her game just for you

・big on pet names (princess, mamas, baby, pretty, etc.)

SMUT

・preferably gentle w you

・only rough after a bad game

・firmly believes in sexual punishments

・anything you do turns her on

・will randomly come up behind you and give you pretend back shots or smack your ass

・loves eye contact during sex or make out seshes

・speaking out make out seshes, she lives for sloppy make out sashes. will literally pull you aside in public for one if shes feeling like it

・loves it when you beg for her

・she treats your body like a temple, her mouth has touches every one of your body parts

・shes definitely a boobies girl. argue w a wall.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here PART EIGHTEEN is here...nineteen...oy vey.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... THE BART RETURNS! The earth rejoices! 🥳🎉 Physical therapy can be fun, even if it usually isn't!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny learns a few more words with practice.

Foda is simple. If Danny is hungry, he can ask for foda. It sounds exactly like food, and when he asks, they feed him.

…Or they up his IV. Which. Danny’s tongue might still feel sore and nasty, but the doctors and nurses and millions of minders don’t seem that mad when he sticks his tongue out at them. Sometimes they even laugh.

They don’t even sound all that mean.

It takes Danny a good chunk of waking time for him to realize that he…probably is hooked up to something he doesn’t want to think about, since all the efforts of lifting and moving him haven’t resulted in a single bathroom trip since he woke up here.

Firstly: horrible.

Secondly: his legs are super, absolutely, positively immobilized, and if someone doesn’t give him enough medication quickly enough after it wears off, Danny is very aware that something is deeply wrong with them.

So. Uh. That’s…gross.

He learns bealo just as quickly. He isn’t sure what bealo means, per se, but when he says it, they up his medication until Danny can pretend he doesn’t have any legs again.

God niht is goodnight, unless Danny is feeling snippy, and then it’s just niht.

…The one lady who minds him always says the whole thing, though. Even when Danny’s mean. Like the one time he threw his rocket at someone.

Or the time he started ignoring everyone when they tried to touch him.

…Or the one time he tried to freeze his IV bag, and put everyone on alert because if he’d been human, that would have seriously hurt him.

“Sorry,” Danny’d whispered, even if it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

She’d patted his hand and meant it. Danny’d had to dry his eyes with his wrist. “Eall es wel.”

Anyway.

Danny hates being in the freaking bed every hour of every day. So when his “sitting up” exercises turn into “hey, let’s try the wheelchair” practice, Danny gets so excited-slash-nervous that he kind of feels like he’s going to throw up all the liquids he’s been injected with.

None of the regular people try to lift him. Instead the lady does it herself, scooping Danny up in very strong arms, the golden cuffs on her wrists weirdly warm on Danny’s skin. When Danny’s settled, his legs sticking out real weird and his back kind of sore, he’s…out of bed.

He’s. He’s not in bed anymore.

And. Sure. It’s temporary, but it’s not the bed. Danny can wriggle, and he can sort of palm the wheels underneath him with the heels of his shaky hands, and he can see so much more of himself than he has in ages and ages.

For one. Both of his legs are in casts. That’s. Not good. He can’t feel it right now, but the sight of fully encased legs…

Well. If he can transform that won’t be a problem. If. If he has to escape. But it is…it’s super scary. He mostly remembers being captured, but the…the other people had been focusing more on his thoracic cavity and his face and head.

…So why are his legs so bad? Did something else happen?

(It did, didn’t it?)

(…Didn’t it??)

His hands shake, but there’s something to all that grip training, or else Danny wouldn’t be able to paw at his neckline to look down his own shirt. Or, well, his cloth nightie, anyway.

It’s good that he looks, since, well…his chest is glowing a solid green.

Whatever should probably be scar tissue. Uh. It…isn’t. There’re gouges down his chest and a crater where his heart should be that probably should be healing over, considering, you know, he’s not freaking dead at this exact second (mostly??), but. Instead of, like, healed flesh, or, say, his insides, there’s a transparent green…jelly… holding him together.

He can see how the green bounces with his heart beat.

...Danny drops the neckline of his gown. His breath comes in choking bursts, eyes pressed into his eye sockets—he feels sick.

He is sick. He has been sick.

The humans are keeping him here because he’s a freak of nature and he’s broken from head to toe and the Guys in White carved his flesh out of his body and opened him up like a can of cranberry sauce.

He presses his hands to his chest, to his stomach, just trying to breathe for long enough that he doesn’t throw up his oatmeal and occasional juice and IV nutrition onto the pristine floor of his sickroom. The people around him all make sympathetic noises that don’t help because he doesn’t know what they mean.

And then he feels something weird.

Not all the sensation in his fingers are back. It’s easier for him to feel impediments than it is to feel textures—something that blocks him from moving, rather than anything sensory-specific. He can usually tell when he touches fabric, because when he moves too far, it pulls tight around his hand. He can tell when he’s on something solid when his hand fails to go through it.

There is something solid sticking out of him.

Danny’s heartbeat quickens. It’s not. It’s. There’s something in him.

And it’s not—it’s so solid. When Danny brushes his hands against it, he can feel his skin and his flesh move with it, trying not to dislodge the thing embedded in him. It pulls at his skin. He doesn’t know what it is.

His fingers tremble as he tries to brush over the object through his gown, trying to figure out its shape from faulty touch alone. It’s like waking up to find himself jammed with needles all over again.

People are talking around them. Danny doesn’t try to listen in. He’s scared. He’s so scared. Something’s happened to him, and he didn’t even notice.

Some of it is—hard. There’s a crinkling sound when he moves. Danny manages to pull his gown neckline back again to catch something of a glimpse, and all he sees is plastic.

He doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t know who to ask. He can’t understand anyone and he doesn’t know if he trusts them.

They put something in him. There’s something embedded in him.

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Something touches his arm—Danny flinches. His core tightens with stress as he puts a metaphorical hand on the button, ready to run and hide at any notice.

It’s the lady. He knows her.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know her at all. He can’t talk to her in any way that matters. She’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know why she’s here, or why she’s keeping him here.

She’s nice. She fed him. But is that all it takes to trick him? To make him compliant? Pliable?

She stops touching him when he gets scared, her eyes worried. She kneels—closer than Danny would like, probably, but she keeps her hands to herself. Danny’s heart races faster, out of order, starting and stopping and starting again like a bad engine.

“Eow eart wel?” she asks from his left arm rest, a common question, so softly. Danny doesn’t know what it means. “Eall es wel. Ænlic eow, ænlic me. Bruce bræð wið me?”

She takes a big, deep, breath. Her hand rises slightly over her chest, following an exaggerated movement. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe like me. One, two, three.

Danny’s breaths are more choked. More panicked.

But when she breathes, he breathes with her—even with every stutter in between.

“Hwæt es woh[O3] ?” the lady asks, so gently it’s almost a whisper. Her pointer finger hovers over his body, but doesn’t touch—and eventually, Danny figures out she probably wants to know where he’s hurting.

But he’s not hurting. He’s scared. There’s something inside him, and he isn’t sure what it is. He presses the heel of his hand to the object. He feels something rigid refuse to bend inside his flesh.

There’s something of recognition in the woman’s face. “Inne cwic tima,” she says, more certain of answers outside the room, and darts away,

Danny wants to bounce his bound leg. He feels awful when anyone is in the room with him, considering how little of them he knows, but, somehow, it’s so much worse when he’s actually alone.

When she comes back, there’s a second person who walks through the double doors with her, in blue scrubs with ducks on them. They wave to Danny.

Danny…blinks. He feels numb. It’s kind of a problem.

They take it in stride, though; in their hands is a blank board and a chunky marker. The cap comes off, the new person scribbles for a minute or so, and then turns the board around so that Danny can see.

It’s a…person. A rudimentary outline person, sure, with some visible bones and organs to fill in the person-shaped outline. Danny can recognize most of them from anatomy class, although those memories are more…personal, now. A little more painful.

The person taps on the board. The person points to Danny.

Danny frowns.

The person turns the board back around and makes some Pew, Pew, Pew! sounds with their mouth, occasionally opening and closing their hand over the board to match the noise. There’s some more scribbling. When the board turns back around, there’s a violent smudge of marker on top of the drawn person’s drawn intestines.

The person takes their covered pinky finger and erases a little neat circle of marker in the intestines, mostly favoring one side. They draw a little arrow from the hole to the general outside-of-the-person blank area. Then another circle, with a thicker circle inside.

Danny recognizes the object jutting out of him. Oh. This is how he got it.

The person—probably a doctor, Danny guesses, or the surgeon who did this to him—do these people even need credentials, actually?—hands the board over to the lady. They hold out ten outstretched fingers, marker under their arm, and make a show of counting every one of the outstretched fingers with the opposite hand. Then they take the board back.

And then, when they write on the board, Danny can actually understand what they say.

Or, well, it’s numbers! The numbers are the same as his—the line and a circle is clearly meant to be a ten, and the little x is a multiplication symbol— they draw a 10, as clearly and a brightly as it could be against a stark white board, and add a little x 7, probably to indicate a week; the result is ten suns times seven, or seventy suns.

Danny feels his heart bounce in his chest. Danny would bet a whole lot of money that the number is meant to be seventy days. There is an end point. It’s not that Danny is free to be subjected to random anatomical whims—there’s a goal here. This was purposeful.

The little circle-within a circle gets erased. The hole is scribbled through as if it was never there, and the person makes a weaving gesture with the marker that Danny is certain is meant to be sewing.

Tears prick at his eyes. The lady gets close by him again, but Danny lets her. His hands aren’t good enough for wiping tears the way he wants to, yet. Help and company are good.

She gives him a tissue from Danny's bedside table. He takes it with a whisper of a grip.

“Seventy?” Danny rasps, tearful. Hopeful. Terrified of hope. He practically jams the tissue into his eye sockets.

The lady’s eyes go wide. “Seventy,” she repeats, marveling.

It’s enough. Nothing is perfect, but it’s enough. And if Danny's allowed to spend so long in front of the space window that he falls asleep in his wheelchair, well. It's not like he was in charge of where they went.

[pinkbelugacollective]

i do love how diana looks like a wwf wrestler next to her mama, the waif 😂😂