#ribcage evaluation

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #231

I was hoping to rest today, but today was filled with lots of stuff.

I went to therapy first thing, and talked a lot about the events of Otakon, about you, and about what I tried to do. I told my therapist a lot more about the event than I wrote in my letters; I'm somewhat afraid of writing them down, getting my hopes up, and ending up disappointed.

They seemed proud of me, though. My therapist, I mean. It's not normal for me to so boldly take up space even with ordinary people, let alone with people powerful enough to weave your fate. If it's for you, though, I can probably rise up to any challenge, no matter how scary it is.

It's in their hands. We'll see what happens in a few years, I suppose.

I saw the dandelion-floof-haired man today, who gave me a pin that he made himself because he liked my Eevee hat; I wrote about him some time ago. Maybe you remember, or maybe not. Either way, he invited me to eat lunch together and to talk about various things at a nearby diner. He seems nice enough; I doubt he'd want to do anything weird to me, and even if he did, I am more than capable of defending myself if I have to. We ate; I got stuffed mushrooms, but I was a bit too soup-brained to think to take any pictures of them for you; I'm sorry. Still, they were some of the best ones I've ever had. They were filled with a kind of seafood stuffing; I wonder if you would have liked them.

He asked me what I've been up to. Lately, I had been elbows deep in preparing myself for the convention and the thing I am trying to do for you, so I spoke about that, along with my rationale. He seemed to understand, and he related to me with similar experiences and thoughts of his own, and it was very good!

By the time that was done with, I had to go to physical therapy. Because my day of the week changed from Wednesday to Tuesday due to now having a bakery job, I am seeing a new person named K. Because K is unfamiliar with me, he began with an evaluation. And for this evaluation, he checked out my ribcage. I had not yet had an evaluation of the integrity of my ribcage done (which is weird, considering I have a RIB injury…), but it was done today, and it was discovered that, while the left side of my ribcage is springy and bouncy in all the ways that it's supposed to be, the whole right side of my ribcage is, for whatever reason, not doing ANY of what it's supposed to do.

If you push on the right side, it doesn't spring back to its original position on its own; it just kind of stays deflated. In fact, it's not expanding properly when I breathe, either, which means that instead of my intercostal muscles and diaphragm doing the work of breathing on the right side of my body, my neck and shoulder is trying to do that work instead, and the result, naturally, is strain in those muscles, which is why they are perpetually tight. My pelvis is also apparently rotated relative to my ribcage, as my body's way of trying to compensate for the fact that the right side of my ribcage is refusing to move or do anything.

Hopefully this might mean that we're one step closer to figuring out what exactly the problem is, and fixing it. Suppose we'll see. It'll be nice to be able to use my right arm again, to laugh, to sing, to yawn, to sneeze, and to breathe deeply and to turn my head without pain. I'm hesitant to get my hopes up, but still… maybe it could work out. Maybe. I'm in a lot of pain all the time, and I'm not able to do any of the things I used to love to do with any kind of consistency, and putting on that bra and that corset belt for the costume (in service to looking the part of someone who is capable of trying to help you) left me messed up for a couple days, and while I tried to put on a brave face so nobody at the convention would know and think I'm weak for it… still… I'm tired and I want this injury, whatever it is, to go away and never come back.

…Sephiroth, I want so badly to return to the water and resume my mermaid training. I'd say you have no idea, but I imagine you might miss eating a nice big bowl of pasta pescatore, or feeling the breeze and the sun and the rain on your skin, and being able to look at trees and mountains and valleys and plains and sky with just as much, if not even more fervor. Hopefully, you'll be able to do all those things again, and more, relatively soon. What I wouldn't give to see you smile and dance, and to hear you laugh and sing. I want that even more than I want the pain in my ribs to stop. If I had the choice between your safety and my own body's healing, then that's an easy one; I'd choose your safety every time, without question.

Well anyway. The ribcage evaluation left me in quite a lot of pain after the fact. I had intended to get some pizza, and maybe some frozen yogurt, and then go home and do the dishes piled up in the sink (it was expected; I was gone from home for a bunch of consecutive days, trying to help you…), but in the end, I was in enough pain that I couldn't do any of those. So instead, I went home and did some leisure writing.

It's J's birthday today. And J isn't really much of a birthday celebration kind of person, but still, he and M and I went out for ice cream, and it was good. I got a soft-serve ice cream flavored with cookie butter (never seen that before!!!), and it was good. M got a pretty standard chocolate ice cream, and that was also good. And J, amongst other things, got a "Northern Lights Sherbet", which was apparently sour apple, blue raspberry, and grape flavored all at once???

Sephiroth. I can tell you from personal experience today that if someone offers you a "Northern Lights Sherbet", it is a TRAP. It tasted as confused, scatterbrained, and incoherent as a poor-quality children's cartoon - if this flavor was a plot, then it was ALL over the place, like its writer could not maintain an attention span for more than 5 consecutive seconds. If the phrase "what the fuck" was a flavor, this would be it.

But apparently, some people like it enough that it's viable to keep its place on the menu???? I can't make pretend like I understand. But I can respect it if other people like it. It's just not for me. I'll count on the people who like it to save me from it if someone decides to torture me by foisting it upon me.

Hey, Sephiroth? I know I've asked you about ice cream flavors you might like. But are there any ice cream flavors that you hate? I'm curious…

Anyhoot. It's getting pretty late, so I think I'll stop writing now and go to bed.

I love you. Please take nice care of yourself, okay? And stay safe out there, too. I'll write again soon…

Your friend, Lumine

[togrowoldinv]

Everything Has Changed

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You’re vying for the Avengers to choose you as one of the Shield agents to go on a mission with them. Nat performs her own evaluation and you grow closer

Note: Some soft Nat! It was going to come out yesterday but my nephew was born lol. Enjoy this one!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

“Agents, we will have a very special guest for training today,” Maria Hill’s voice sounds from the entrance of the gym.

You and all of the other agents stand up straighter in her presence. Soon, she’ll be choosing the best agents to go on a mission with some of the Avengers.

You have been working extremely hard to make sure that one of those agents is you.

Agent Hill walks to the center of the room. You keep your attention on her as she instructs everyone to warm up. It’s hard to pretend not to notice when the special guest arrives. Her steps are light, but her presence is undoubtable.

Still, you keep your focus on warming up with the other agents. Some simple stretches and laps to get your blood flowing.

“Okay, focus up,” Maria says, bringing everyone together.

Chatter erupts at the sight of her standing next to Maria. The Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. You were all expecting the usual special guests, like Steve Rogers or Agent Coulson.

“For training today, I’ve asked Agent Romanoff to join us. As she will be on the upcoming mission, she has some say in what agents will come along,” Maria explains. “Agent Romanoff, is there anything you’d like to share?”

Natasha takes her time before she answers. You wonder what is running through her head as she looks at each and every agent in the room. You swear her eyes linger on you for the longest amount of time.

“I’m not one for speeches,” Natasha finally speaks. “That’s more Cap’s area of expertise, as I’m sure you all have had to deal with.” A few chuckles fill the room. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Agent Hill gives everyone assignments for the next hour of training. She and Natasha walk around and observe. You never hear Natasha say as much as two words as she watches. At the end of the hour, the agents circle up again.

“I will choose a few of you to spar with me,” Natasha explains. She says a few agent’s names before she says yours at the very end. Your heart drops to your stomach.

“The rest of you can be dismissed,” Maria Hill adds. The five agents that were chosen, including you, remain in the room.

Natasha goes in order that she called the names out, so you are the last to spar with her. Everyone else lasts under a few minutes with her.

“You ready?” She asks you, a smirk on her face.

“Yes ma’am,” you reply, trying your best to sound confident.

Nat swings first, not pulling her punches at all. She lands a blow on your ribcage. You respond by taking a lunge at her, but she blocks your attempts at hitting her. You try not to let it rattle you.

“Try again,” she says. “Follow my eyes. Try to see what I’m going to do next.”

You nod and reset your feet. This time you manage to block her first swing, but the second one lands hard on your abdomen. You fall back a bit but regain your balance. This process repeats for a few minutes before Nat calls it.

You sigh and fall back in line. Maria dismisses you all for the day after explaining that the five of you are to attend a Stark event tonight. There is more to the job than just fighting, she says.

The rest of the day is spent with you preparing for the next day and getting ready for the party. Stark events are notoriously good opportunities to network, so you prepare yourself for being socially burnt out by the end of the night.

Once you arrive at the party, you find the other agents and get a drink together. There is a lot of laughing and cutting up. Someone brings up Natasha and things get a little more interesting.

“I’m just saying someone that beautiful cannot be as good as they say she is,” one agent says.

“I don’t know, man. I’ve heard she has more kills than anyone else here combined,” another adds.

“Guys, come on she’s just a pretty face,” someone says.

“No,” you jump in, your voice a little too loud. “She’s a hero. You guys know that. She is not just a pretty face,” you say.

You storm off and don’t notice that Natasha was standing near you. She heard everything. Nat walks by the agents and they all look away sheepishly. The bartender hands her the drinks she asks for and she leaves the room.

Standing on the roof of the building, you look out onto the city. You don’t know why it got under your skin so bad that the other agents were calling Nat’s abilities into question. Maybe you just don’t like bullies.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of heels on the concrete. You turn around to assess the threat.

“Sorry if I startled you,” Natasha says.

“No, that’s okay.”

“Mind if I join you?” Natasha asks, offering you a smile. You nod. She walks your side and holds out a glass to you. “I wasn’t sure what you were drinking.”

“Thank you, Agent Romanoff,” you say, accepting the drink.

“Natasha is fine,” she says. “Or Nat.”

“Y/n,” you offer her your first name.

“I know who you are, y/n,” Nat says.

“Oh.”

Nat takes a breath and rests her arms on the edge of the building. You don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t feel awkward.

“Maria will tell you tomorrow, but you were selected for the mission,” Natasha says.

You can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. It’s what you’ve been working for for so long now. You take a sip of your drink and look out at the city again.

“Are you excited?” Natasha asks, taking note of your body language.

“Yeah,” you answer. “Thank you for choosing me.”

“It was a group decision. You’ve earned it, y/n. You went toe to toe with everyone, including me,” Natasha says.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t go toe to toe with you,” you say with a light comedic tone to hide your frustration.

“You did,” Nat argues. “Well, more than anyone else did. Seems to them I'm just a pretty face."

"You heard that?" You ask her, turning to face her. She nods. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Nat says. "I'm used to it. I also heard you defending me."

"Oh, yeah."

"You don't think I'm pretty?" Natasha asks, a hint of teasing in her tone.

You're sure your face cannot hide your reaction to her words. A heat creeps up your neck.

"Oh, no. You're so beautiful, Natasha," you say.

"You're beautiful, too. Very much so," Nat replies.

You smile shyly. Natasha feels herself falling for you. You realize how late it is when your phone dings in your purse.

"I should probably get some sleep so I can be ready for the mission," you say.

"Right," Nat agrees. "Maybe after the mission, we can see each other more often."

"I would love that," you reply.

"Goodnight, y/n."

"Goodnight, Natasha," you reply.

Before you step away from her, she leans close and drops a kiss on your cheek. It's soft, and delicate but perfect.

You can't wait to get to know her better.

[guppygiggles]

Pale Blue

What: Sleepy tickles, body positivity, fluff.

Word count: 1.2k

Universe: Canon

Who: Casper and Avery

Description: It feels weird to formalize this because it's so short, but I desperately needed to write something for comfort. This is a little messy, but... so are my feelings right now, so at least it's honest. Please forgive any typos or formatting mistakes. 💙

The humidifier whispered at our bedside as I laid in big-spoon position against Avery's back, the ice crystals inside his head reflecting our nightlight in tiny flashes.

With my arm resting on his ribcage, I studied the rhythm of his breathing, trying to figure out if he was still awake. We'd been in bed for around an hour according to my phone, which I'd just checked for the eighth time. I couldn't stop thinking about the audit in which I was mired at work, plus, my shoulder hurt from poor posture all week. I was tired, but I couldn't sleep. 

I rolled over, nuzzling my head into my pillow to try and get comfortable. To my surprise, Avery rolled with me, his long arms wrapping securely around my body. He enveloped me like an oversized beanbag – when I spooned him, I was more like his backpack. Avery sometimes rolled over in his sleep, but as I felt his hand move with intelligence against my hip, I spoke into the dark. 

“Are you awake…?”

“Mm… no.” He did sound sleepy. That cool palm slid up my body and under the hem of my t-shirt.

I exhaled slowly. “Good, you're not supposed to be.” 

“I could say the same to you.”  

His fingers traced down my bare tummy. I flinched. 

“Why are you so tense~?” He asked. 

“Aheh…” 

“Relax your belly.” 

I whimpered. 

“Casper, relax for me~” 

I bit my lip, but did as instructed, releasing my stomach muscles with a shaky exhale. As the pudge of my belly expanded into his palm, he gently grabbed at it. 

“Mm, there we go~ I love how soft you are, here…”

My legs twisted as I turned my face into the pillow, muffling giggles into it as he fondled and teased my vulnerable tummy. My hands knew better than to interfere with this ticklish evaluation.

“A-Ahavery…” 

“Yesss~?” 

I could hear his smile. I squirmed against the cool softness of his body. 

“That…!” 

“Mhmmm~?” 

I tensed again, my muscles knitting together. This was met with a punishing fingertip wiggling into my navel. 

“Ah, ah~ You know better. Do I need to get mean~?”

“P-pleahease…” My ears burned. 

“Please…? You want me to get mean?” 

Oh, no. 

“No, no wahahait-!”��

“Well, who am I to turn down such an invitation?” 

His curious fingertips turned into a plush claw as all five digits dug into my belly. My bubbling giggles turned into a geyser of laughter I had no hope of holding back. 

“WAAAhahahaha!” My legs kicked, toes curling in futility. 

“If you won't relax your belly for me… I want you to at least complete your thought from earlier, please… Tell me what this does to you.”

Avery's politeness made the demand twice as scary. I grabbed a fistful of blanket; anything to help me resist grabbing his hand. I knew what was down that road. 

“I c-cahahahan’t!” I whined as he continued to wiggle his fingers into me, exciting all those wickedly sensitive nerves. I could barely hear his voice beneath my laughter; low, controlled. Amused. 

“You know how much meaner I could be than this~ Is that what you want?”

“Nohohoho!” His hand scampered across my tummy, lightly skittering to a new spot and then digging in again, with random breaks to gently pinch my side or hip. With every attempt to roll onto my stomach, he simply pulled me back with his gentle strength. I could feel the restrained power behind that touch; hands that could easily unrest a tree from the earth handled my human body like a priceless Fabergé egg. 

“Tell me, then…” 

His index finger found the crease at the top of my thigh, pressing it like a child presses a streetlight button when there's an ice cream parlor across the street and five dollars in his hand. My reaction was explosive. 

“WAAHAHAHAHAA! OKAHAHAY! OKAHHAHAY~!” 

The handful of blanket was damp with the sweat of my palm as the tweaking stopped. A pause heavy with expectation fell over us. 

“Well…?” 

“It… it…” My blush was so hot, I was sure Avery could see it in the dark. 

He chuckled against my back, placing a cool, refreshing kiss on the back of my neck. I wanted more… I wanted them all over. 

“Sing for me, dewdrop…” 

A single tweak into that crease made me jolt and gasp. 

“Fihihine! It…” I tucked my head into the pillow. “...Tickles…” 

“What was that? Apologies, I'm afraid you'll have to speak up…” 

I felt swift movement behind me and even before the attack, I realized that I had pushed Avery's ler rage too far. In an instant I was on my back, cushy cloud cuffs around my wrists as they rested above my head, Avery's leg like a lap bar across my thighs. His hand spidered over my torso, scribbling under my arms, my ribs, my belly. I howled with laughter, my back arching uselessly. 

“OKAHAHAY IT TIHIHICKLES! IT TIHIHICKLES!!” I cried through gale after gale of deep, hopelessly honest cackling. 

“Oh, it does? It tickles when I do this? Hm! Could that be because you're ticklish?” He'd adopted a casual, playful tone as he laid beside me, propping his head up with one hand as he tormented me with the other. 

“YEEHEHEHEHESSS!” What good was it to resist at this point? I didn't even bother tugging at the cuffs as he used a single fingertip to wiggle into one armpit, then the other, then back to a big, ticklish claw at my belly. I just laughed and laughed, letting it all pour out unimpeded by resistance. 

“Very good~! My goodness, such hair-raising laughter, all from such a small amount of stimulation…” 

He lifted my night shirt up to my ribs, then went back to gently pinching and grabbing at my belly pudge, patting, squeezing, and playing with it. 

“I'm sorry, I just can't get enough of this.”

“Plehehehehease stahahahap thahahahahat~!” I protested in a combination of ticklishness and embarrassment. Much as I was a huge proponent of body positivity, I wasn't exactly immune to insecurity; I'd packed on a few pounds from work stress. 

“I will never understand what you humans find shameful about fat on your bodies… especially here…” 

He shifted on the bed, repositioning so that he could nuzzle his cool face into my exposed middle. He kissed and cuddled, making me giggle shyly. 

“So soft and warm,” he cooed, peppering me with more kisses, the last one landing on my navel. 

I felt the cuffs around my wrists dissipate. I reached down, stroking the rolling curve of Avery's head, even as my belly quivered beneath his touch. 

“I love tickling you,” he said. “I love loving you. All of you, just as you are.” 

The corners of my eyes felt wet as he crawled back up the bed, wrapping his body possessively around mine, pulling me into him like he was an oyster and I his treasured pearl. I tucked into him, his cool arm a relief against my cheek as I rested my head on his bicep. The world disappeared around us; we were a mote of sanity glowing amidst a blackness of merciless chaos. 

“I'm so tired,” I whispered. 

“I know, sweetheart. Can you sleep, now?” 

“I think so.” My eyes were already closed; there was very little thought involved. 

It was quiet. Avery's breathing slowed. 

“Avery…” 

“Hm?”

“Don't let go… okay?” 

He pulled me in tighter. I felt his lips on the back of my head, nuzzling my hair. 

“Never. Never, ever, ever.” 

[souperluminal]

Hello!

I was recently inspired to draw an astronaut (specifically in the Apollo 11 Spacewalk suit) but since can’t draw astronauts or human anatomy in general I had to give up. My point being, do you have any tips on how the draw astronauts? Btw I really love your art! You’re one of the first few people I followed on tumblr!

Aw thanks! First off:

Drawing is just making marks. If you can make the marks you want and you know where you want to make them, there's nothing that you can't draw.

Sorry that's not very astronaut-specific, but the way I think about it there's not much difference between drawing an astronaut and drawing, say, a steam train. It's all the same process of studying the real thing to understand first its basic forms and proportions and then its more complex details and then applying that knowledge. The more you understand something, the easier it becomes to play with it.

If you want to draw humans and humanoid things, start by studying the scaffolding, how the bones connect to each other, how they move, and what their relative sizes are. Don't worry about replicating the literal appearance of every bone, just think of it like a stick figure with a box for the ribcage and a box for the pelvis. Then you can layer muscle groups on top of that, skin overtop of muscles, and clothes and astronaut suits on top of it all. Will Weston's figure drawings are my favorite to study for this kind of thing.

There's basically nothing that's off limits when it comes to studying. You can draw from life, draw from a photo, trace the basic shapes on top of photos to get a feel for the proportions, draw from another artist's drawing, etc. It's generally best not to post stuff you trace or otherwise copy (and definitely don't claim it as your own) but it's all fair game for learning. The only thing that won't help you learn is drawing without any reference, since you won't have anything to evaluate your drawings by to see what you're doing right or wrong.

If it helps, here's some stuff I think about when I'm drawing my astronauts:

[sky-kiss]

Red

It’s the smell of blood dragging you from the darkness. Up, up, up towards consciousness. Away from instinct and towards reason.

Blood, sickly sweet, stinking in your nose, thick on your tongue; it cakes beneath your nails, sticky between your fingers, and over everything. The hunger never fades, but this, the carnage, helps.

Screams echo in their memories and blend into a discordant song. And it should horrify you, shouldn’t it? The bodies? The stench? It did once. You know it did. There used to be another voice, a conscience maybe, but it’s gone. 

Now, there’s only red.

Red, red, red. Passion and blood, Orin.

The Red Lady flits between her kills, pressing the flat of her blade against her hip. It leaves a swathe of blood in its wake, no better or worse than the rest of the carnage painted across her flesh. Orin is messy, a somehow inarticulate way of describing her ‘work.’ Her knives are viciously sharp, you know this better than most, but you’d never guess it. Sometimes, she hacks into the flesh, shattering bone and bruising. In her lighter moments, nearly coy, she takes her time. Her hands are steady; she flays, reveling in the screams and the wash of blood. It soothes her. And you.

She traces your cheek with the knife, leaving a cool sting in its wake. Mischief (madness) dances behind her eyes. Something screams inside you, that primal voice, that other. Father or the Slayer…it wants her but doesn’t know how. Wants to kill, take, own, unify.

And it’s that last urge, stronger than all the others, that chokes you. You want to crawl inside her skin. Father says you are one, twinned, incomplete. It hurts. It hungers.

“My blood-kin,” she coos the words, breath warm against your cheek. “My only.” She laughs as she says it. Pleased by your pain. Orin presses her lips to your cheek and licks her way to the corner of your mouth. Not quite a kiss, tongue tracing along the cut she’s made. Evaluating her work, tasting you. Torn between the pleasure of the hunt and wanting to be whole again. It’s as near to restraint as she comes.

You feel the darkness stretching out again, soul-deep, and hungry. It’s so much worse when she’s close. Like your skin is tight, something else is clawing its way out, ready to burst from your ribcage. You are halves of one awful, bloody, whole.

Some nights you hunt, a twinned plague roaming the city outskirts.

Some nights you turn on one another, tearing through flesh and bone.

And perhaps one night this will end. It must end. Father demands it.

But not now. Not yet. For now, there’s only red.

[crystalflygeo]

Marks of a warrior ft. Zhongli + gn!reader

cw/tags: hurt/comfort, self-harm mention (reader), scars, pretty suggestive but not full blown smut for once PLEASE these are delicate topics DO NOT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.

notes: Listen, as usual this is very self-indulgent, but also very personal, not everyone may feel like this of course and I hope not to make anyone feel insulted or uncomfortable, I try not to "romanticize" just... some comfort for the depression hours ok?

The satin sheets pool around your waist as you sigh, soft and nervous.

This was… the first time you got this far, and it made your heart skip a beat.

It was very intimate… and intimidating.

And despite that, there was a certain rush of excitement as Zhongli pulled off your clothes. You helped shake them off, a bit clumsily, and blushed as he stares at you.

And now here you are. Clad in just your underwear, shy and sitting on his lap, faces mere inches apart.

Those golden eyes travel over your skin, committing every curve, every mole, every strand of hair, to memory. Zhongli does not only look, he evaluates, he appraises that which he likes or finds fascinating. Studying it and, if enticed enough, the ex-archon’s gaze would turn covetous. Like a dragon wanting to claim and possess a new treasure.

Like how he stares at your right now.

There’s a certain hunger in his eyes and you almost shiver at the intensity of it, averting your eyes and subconsciously bringing up an arm to cover yourself. “D-Don’t just stare, I’m-”

“Beautiful.” He cuts off in a husky low voice that has you shivering for real now. He leans in to plant a kiss at your shoulder, your hands shoot up to his bare chest, curling there and feeling the smooth muscles.

Zhongli trails kisses up your neck, to you jaw, your cheek, your nose and you squeak when you feel his hands explore your body. Large and warm, trey trace your ribcage and brush at your nipples, you sigh.

“All this… just for me.”

You still cannot comprehend how can he look at you like that, with so much love, so much longing. How are you so lucky to have caught the eye and heart of someone so kind, so perfect. A deity, no less.

“Zhongli…”

His hands dip lower, circling your waist and there he finds something. You tense.

His thumb brushes along the scars on your hip and you flinch not-so-subtly.

This is the first time he's seen them.

The first time anyone has seen them.

Dark ugly slashes that you wish you could forget, you could undo.

"Please don't." You mumble urgently, nervous. "I..." Your lips purse together and you frown, conflicted. "I-I'm uncomfortable."

"Alright." Zhongli replies simply, his hands slide up your sides and he leans in to kiss a spot in your chest instead. A bashful smile returns to your face.

His lips meet yours in a slow but heated kiss, you can’t help but want more, be a little demanding. You arms drape around his shoulders and you pull yourself closer. The skin-on-skin contact is electrifying and you moan low.

Breathing each other’s air, pressed so close, so intimately entwined. You lose yourselves in lips and tongue and teeth, in soft hums and small noises and silent smiles.

It's nice, you think, to be so... wanted.

“You act as if you were ashamed. Warriors would often pride themselves on scars.” He says suddenly. “They are a symbol of victory. Another day to live after having faced danger and endured hardship.”

You huff a little, averting your gaze. “I’m h-hardly a warrior… those scars…” You gulp. Surely, he understood…? “They’re not from battle I… I did them myself.” You feel cold creep up your body. Dread. You feel painfully aware of them now, and the pain they bring… the memories.

He hums against your skin, nuzzling there softly. “Ah but that is where you’re wrong, my dear. Those are proof you have faced one of life’s strongest and most difficult enemies, your own dark thoughts. That which cannot be seen, cannot be easily fought, cannot be understood but for the one facing them alone.”

Your breath hitches a little.

“I, for one, I’m glad you’re here today. With me. Glad that you won that battle.” He punctuates every comment with a fleeting kiss, tickling your collarbone. One of his hands rubs at your shoulder, the other is warm on your thigh.

You blink rapidly and press your forehead into his chest, hiding the tears that wet your eyelashes.

How can he be so…

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You stay silent in his embrace a little longer, as he rubs circles on your back.

“T-Thank you… Zhongli. One day I’ll tell you about it, but… now…”

He shushes you and leans back to lie down on the bed, bringing you along and still staring at you with that same reverence. Your pelvis brush together and you gasp. The warmth is back and growing to a full flame.

And this god, this perfect being splayed here below you…

“It’s fine if you don’t. Don’t feel forced to… you deserve to feel comfortable in your own body, and your scars do not take from who you are, nor they define you.” He cups your cheek, eyes half-lidded. “Don’t think about it now…”

You lean down with a smile and kiss him again.

[emily-the-fae]

Alastor's Biggest Regret

A Hazbin Hotel Idea

so i just found out about the existence of Hazbin Hotel and it has demons so totally my cup of tea

I have been familiar with the fandom for a total of 48 hours, have seen several human Alastor fanarts and headcannons and have had 4 cups of coffee today so here we are

Houston we have a headcannon

I barely know the fandom so take this with a grain of salt. Just a fanfic idea:

her name was Madeleine and she was Husk's younger sister, Husk had known Alastor for a while by the time he accidentally introduced them to each other

Husk sincerely didn't want to, he had been getting a bad vibe from Alastor from the very start, yet here they were - the three of them talking one Thursday night at a local pub in summer 1922

Madeleine and Alastor instantly hit it off: he was extremely charming when he wanted to be, she found it easy to accept people with oddities. Husk was brooding and for once in his life trying to end the evening early

the pleasant acquaintance soon turned into courtship, Alastor was quite smitten by the vivid character of his unfortunate friend's sister, and that feeling was reciprocated

in about a year they were happily married, living together in a lovely townhouse in New Orleans

well, happily for a while...

Madeleine had always, almost since day one, noticed her husbands... unusual tendencies. The weirdly dark sense of humor every now and again, the sharp switches in his mood that happened not so often but not as rarely as to go unnoticed

the first few years of the marriage seemed cloudless, almost too good to be true, Alastor's job on the radio was going uphill and he was enjoying it tremendously, Madeleine had settled into a position in the newspaper that she had wanted for a while and they were deeply in love with each other

yet too good to be true turned to be the correct evaluation

Alastor had violent, destructive tendencies. Husk had warned her. She never thought it was serious. To be fair Alastor had perfected the art of concealing his true face

...and hiding the bodies

but destructivity often happens to progress and so it did in Alastor. At some point Madeleine simply had to notice something was off

and she did

he was late from work more often, his aggressive moods were starting to get regular. She tried to confront him on it, figure out what was wrong. He got defensive

he was defensive every time she tried to find a way for them to discuss it. when his defensiveness wasn't enough he got angry

and soon abusive

Alastor didn't want to be so, if anything definitely not with her, but he couldn't help it: in a mix of fear of being exposed and desperation not to lose her

Madeleine was growing scared of him. She tried to stay silent

until one day she found a shirt with too many bloodstains to be his own and silence stopped being an option

when she woke up in hell she would barely remember the fight that happened: she wasn't straight away planning to expose him although she probably should have

but she would remember the piercing pain of the big kitchen knife going through her ribcage

Alastor got scared, then mad, then terrified of her slamming the door and disappearing from his life forever and then a cruel red fog descended on him

when he found himself on the kitchen floor holding her motionless body and covered in her blood, he cried. He clutched her to his chest, rocking back and forth, begging her not to go. Over the destroyed, evaporised ashes of his demonic soul would anyone ever find out about how that night looked for him

when Charlie asked Madeleine why she was doomed to hell, Madeleine responded that she bedded a serial killer

Madeleine would never know that the real reason was because the said serial killer found the idea of dooming his wife's soul to hell through a dark ritual much easier to accept then the thought of never crossing pathways with her in the afterlife

when Alastor showed up at the hotel Madeleine begged Charlie to never mention her name

when they inevitably met and Alastor, for the first time in 90 years realised that his ritual worked, Madeleine slapped the feared Radio Demon on the face

"we had our bit of falling out, every couple has that!" "a falling out is an argument and few days apart, not a knife in your wife's chest!"

she told him that never in eternity would she let him get close to her again

and he noticed that even in her demon form she still kept the little blue starry sky locket that he gave her on their wedding night

[clandestinegardenias]

Welcome to the next installment in my 15 minute fitzier first kiss fic challenge! For the anonymously submitted prompt "Could you write a fitzier kiss where one of them sustains a minor injury and the other kisses it better 🥺"

Hope this post finds you, anon!

A Metaphor for This

“Ah, damn,” James hisses, and flexes his hand, bending to inspect it. 

There is a dot of blood welling on the tip of his finger where the envelope has cut it. 

It is a vibrant, nearly lewd red against the pale of James’ skin, backgrounded by the slushy white of London’s slowly melting snow. 

Francis’ heart is suddenly rabbit-quick in his chest, fluttering up against his ribcage in distress. 

A memory, unbidden, of blood on shale. Blood dripping from James’ eye. 

His throat is too thin for air to pass. When he attempts to gulp down a breath it stutters through him, strained. His mind is a susurration of buzzing sound, fuzzy and muddled.  

James stares down at the blood now swelling from his finger, dripping down the side falling to dot the street. 

“Clumsy of me,” James says, as if to himself. 

Francis steps forward, shucking off his gloves as he goes, and takes James’ hand in his own lightly shaking grip.  

He is gentle, so very careful, but he hears James’ sharp intake of breath nonetheless. He rubs a thumb over the soft underside of James’ wrist, reassuring. He will not hurt him. 

“F-Francis?,” James says, voice lilting up a little at the end making it a question. 

“Shush,” Francis tells him, and James does. He relinquishes himself to Francis’ care, posture slumping so that he rests against Francis’ side. As if he has just been waiting for this moment to lean on him, to be supported. Held. Cared for. 

Francis fishes a handkerchief from his pocket, dabs ever so gently at the cut. 

Within seconds, the blood is beading up again, the wound resisting. There is the vague thought in the back of Francis’ head, the specter of old wounds long-healed reopening, reopening, reopening–

He brings James’ finger to his mouth and licks it, cleaning the blood from it with a short swipe of his tongue. James makes a strangled sort of noise somewhere above him. 

His blood tastes like iron, like salt, like the sea. 

The cut is slower to bleed again, this time. It is working. 

Francis lowers his head a bit further and slips the tip of James’ finger into his mouth, sucking. 

Pressure, to stop the bleeding. 

He pulls back to evaluate his work. The cut is still angry, red, but the active bleeding seems to have stopped. He nods in satisfaction and wraps his handkerchief around James’ finger for good measure, pressing the extra fabric into James’ palm and using his hand to curl James’ fingers around it. That should serve, until they can get home to proper medical supplies. 

Duty fulfilled, he straightens to find James looking at him, wide-eyed and startled. 

“James?” he asks, suddenly worried he has done something untoward, something to upset the man–

James drops the handkerchief, takes Francis’ face between his hands, and kisses him, once, firmly, right on the lips. 

He pulls back just as fast, looking even more shocked at his own actions than he was at Francis’ suckling on his fingertip. 

Francis feels as if he is melting, as if he is floating. He brings a hand up to card through James’ hair, thumb stroking across his cheek, and pulls him back in. 

[trumpetnista]

CMW2/Trumpetnista: Foil

Summary from FFN: FERAL-VERSE VERSION OF THE SERIES FINALE: After months of misery, Jeremiah FINALLY throws down the gauntlet and everyone is more than ready to end his reign of terror. Selina has been re-evaluating her life decisions and has decided to change, leading to the peace and joy she deserves;Rated for language, GOTHAM typical action/gore, and BatCat lovemaking;1st in my 2025 SSS Project

Words from the Hooded GOTHAMITE: Good Aftenoon and Happy New Year, everyone! It has been a very long time since I've done anything fandom related consistently and there are legitimate reasons why. The full story is under my personal tag but here's the synopsis: In late 2020-early 2021, I accepted the religion that I grew up with (Jehovah's Witnesses) was a Cult so I've been in the process of deprogramming and discovering myself. In mid-September 2022, I had a psychotic break that led to an 8-10 day hospitalization and more importantly, my Bipolar 1 diagnosis.

In August 2023, I lost my father due to congestive heart failure coupled with nursing home neglect and my mother is currently dealing with being a widow along with her own growing stack of medical/mental issues that she refuses to go to a nursing home for. 

My fibromyalgia has changed in an awful way, which means I'll likely have to go in for more surgeries to deal with it, along with handling the ongoing healing of my dominant left wrist and hand from surgery to deal with Kienbock's Disease. I've recently been diagnosed with arthritis in my ribcage but thankfully, my change in diet and lifestyle is compatible with keeping it in check, as well as more surgeries.

With all of that being said, I want and need to do something that brings me joy and that I have full control over. Writing has always been a part of my life, one of my greatest joys, and I want to get back to it. 

Thank you so much for your patience.

The show may be over but my love for it is far from over. GOTHAM has so many characters, so many ideas that deserve more exploration and my Emo kids turned Emo adults may have ended on a hopeful note but the trashy shipper part of me wants better for them.  

I still plan on writing them getting turnt together and I’ve finally settled on an idea for the sequel to Positive but this idea won’t leave me alone. We’ll be returning to the Feral-verse here. It’s one of my favorite AUs. 

I absolutely fucking despise Harley and Joker’s “relationship”. I always have and I always will but none of the versions were more offensive to me than Jeremiah and Ecco’s. It just...y’all know the meme: “DISGUSTENG”? Yeah. I was more than happy to see her die (Spoilers. Apologies.) but it also made me wonder what would’ve happened if someone actually called out the “relationship” for the toxic bullshit it was. Who better than Selina Kyle? Of course, BatCat will be serving as an imperfectly perfect foil to their nonsense (hence the title...I love making connections like that. It’s one of writing’s joys) and honestly, this fic is just an excuse to bash the life ruining circus freak and write BatCat action plot with porn with healthy communication for flavor.

Also, this fic is gonna go deep into Selina’s head. With everything that’s happened to her and the city, she’s come to some conclusions, conclusions that could (and will) change her life for the better, not just between her and Bruce but in general. I want my Grumpy Cat to have joy and as much peace as the world will allow. She deserves the whole world. She really does. 

Disclaimer: “Honestly, it’s not mine!”

 "Hi, Selina Kyle!"

"...hello...you okay in there?"

"Uh-huh. Everyone here has treated me real nice. I thought they'd be mean but nope."

"Good."

"Can you chat for a while? I'm sooo bored and there are hardly any girls around..."

"Sure, just as long as you keep in mind that if you try to pull a Move on me, you'll have more holes in you than swiss cheese before you can blink."

"Fair enough...so, are you gonna cook me before you eat me or am I gonna be sushi? I love sushi...man, I miss sushi so much. I'd cut someone's pinky toe off for some sashimi right now..."

"Why the hell would I eat you?"

"Because you're a Cutie Cannibal, Curls. The scared little bunnies told me and Daddy all about you before he made them go bye-bye. You ripped Wet Willie's throat out and made them bring it home to us. Lil' Bitch Baby Penguin, Crazy Widow Barbie, Raggedy Andrew, The Song of Ice and Fire Blasters, even Jimmy the Gent watching us over yonder with his loyal posse of fellow do-gooders...they're the Big Giant Heads of this city yet they're all scared shitless of little ol' you. You don't see it?"

"I see it every day but I don't care."

"You don't?"

"Nope."

"How come?"

"None of them matter to me. Okay, Gordon, Bullock, and Barbara do because they're Squad but the rest of them can fuck right off. We'd be better off if they died or left town and never came back."

"Weren't you and The Fire Blaster besties back in the way day?"

"Yeah...The Plant Witch, too but they went their ways and I went mine. It is what it is. Good times or not, when they pull a Move on me and mine again? I'll stomp them like roaches."

"Harsh."

"Yeah, but better them than me and mine."

"...I know a secret about you, Selina Kyle. Wanna hear it?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Bruce Wayne matters more to you than anybody else in the whole wide world. Oh, you put on a good show of being a cold hard bitch but anyone smart can see right through it. You lurve him. I mean, c'mon. You moved out of Haven to live in sin with him in his lovely little townhouse and big beautiful Manor. You made peace with his manservant and now you're like a daughter to him. You and Brucie run around every day with the coppers, still trying to save the sinking ship and all the sad little rats trapped inside of it. He tells you all his secrets and you tell him most of yours. You're giving him your milk and cookies whenever he wants 'em and you even took a naughty little bullet for him. Mr. J thought that when he shot you down that it'd change everything between him and Brucie for the best. His crazy sexy cool buddy Ra's said that it would before he went up in smoke with the Bridges. Mr. J thought that they'd be best friends and brothers forever because you would be out of the way but instead, capping you ruined just about everything and he's mad about it. Super-duper mad..."

"I can tell. Did he put those fingerprints on your arms? The shiner around your eye?"

"I like it rough, Puddin'. You should give it a try. Get some pretty marks of your own."

"Don't call me Puddin'. Your marks aren't pretty and they're not from liking it rough. They're from your boyfriend being an abusive mouth breathing shithead."

"Well, that's just mean!"

"Not as mean as he is to you. Anyone who thinks it's okay to treat their partner like a punching bag is disgusting and deserves to die in a fire. Period."

"...so me-an...you're not looking at the big picture...you don't know him like I do..."

"I wish I didn't know him at all but alas, poor goddamned Yorick. You do realize that he doesn't really love or care about you, right? If you dropped dead right in front of him, he would just go find someone else. He wouldn't even have a real funeral for you. You're nothing but another sucker that's willing to do his dirty work for him. You're 3 holes for him to bust a fat nut in and that's it. You ain't shit to him and you don't see it. I feel really bad for you."

"Ohhh, grumpy baby alley cat's all of a sudden an expert on true love? You think you can judge us? What do you think is gonna happen with Wet Blanket Brucie down the line? Do you really think you're gonna live happily ever after? You're gonna go around the world with him and be his bodyguard and let him do you in any boardroom he wants? You're gonna marry him? You're gonna be the Lady of Wayne Manor and start popping out his ugly little bouncing billionaire brats? You're gonna be the Queen Bee MILF and make mango mimosas to wash down the magic brownies for your book club on the weekends? Is that what you want from him? That's your dream life?"

"If he's down, fuck yeah. After all the shit we've been through, being together like that until we get dead is a great idea. It'd be fun as hell and our bouncing little billionaire brats would be absolutely fucking precious, thank you very much! I mean, they'll definitely get stuck with my hair and his nose but still..."

"Huh. Well, you just talked so bad about Mr. J but seriously? It's Bruce Wayne, as in Wayne. He could be with any broad he wants. He could drop you like a bad habit any minute now."

"He could but he won't. I'm it for him and it goes both ways."

"You sure about that, pussy-cat?"

"More than anything."

"...you really think you're so special to him? You think that you're his whole world?"

"I know I am because when it counts the most? He shows me. What's yours shown you?"

"The Truth."

"The Truth about what? Insanity?"

"No! Gotham. People. Life. I'm free!"

"Says the broad who's sitting in a cage and is gonna get deep fried at worst or locked in a padded closet at best. Ecco, that bastard hasn't shown you anything but how to completely ruin your life but he'll send someone to come get you eventually. It won't be for love, though. Unh-uh. He'll do it because it'll keep you under his thumb. He'll do it because he knows that if you ever woke up and saw that The Emperor's buck ass nude? He'd be done for. If you were smart, you'd get rid of his bitch ass and run The Dark Zone by yourself. It'd be easy. I mean, all you'd have to do is feed him a good meal, liquor him up, give him the best fuck of his life and then as soon as he falls asleep? Use a shiv to draw a big smile across his throat and let him drown. Then, you'd really be free and what's left of the gene pool would be saved, if you're not pregnant already. Wait, are you? Do you need a piss test? That's one of the few things we've got a ton of..."

"Not yet, sweetums but hopefully down the line..."

"Hopefully never. There have been enough Valeskas. The world and what's left of this place doesn't need another one running around. Did his brother really shoot you in the fucking head?"

"He sure did...and the naughty little bullet's still in there rattling around today. Watch!"

"...your guy isn't worth a pot to piss in but mine is. B isn't perfect but at the end of the day, I'm sticking with him because he's a good person with a good heart, even after all the shitty things and people that have happened to him. There is nothing good left inside of Jeremiah, if there was really any to begin with. I doubt it. He's a mad dog so do yourself and everybody else around here a favor? End it with him and kill him before he kills you. Seriously.”

//////////////////////////

"I knew a lot of folks like her back in the day. They were so hurt and lonely that they'd latch on to the first person that paid them any attention. 9 times out of 10? They would end up in the Shelters and eventually on The Hoe Stroll. A few of them even went missing...and it wasn't always men hurting girls. Sometimes, it would be a woman who'd take a boy in and I just...I had to try."

"I understand. Maybe Ecco will take your words to heart."

"Nah. She's too far gone. She's gonna stick with him to the bitter end and it sucks. It would've been awesome poetic justice if she was the one who did him in but I guess it'll have to be me."

"No."

"Jeremiah's a sick fuck, Bruce. You know that better than anyone around here. You saw how far he's willing to go to get what he wants so how the hell else are we supposed to deal with him?"

"He shouldn't just die. He needs to stand trial for everything he's done."

"All putting his guilty ass in a courtroom will do is give him a chance to blow it up."

"Selina..."

"Okay, fine. Let's say that the trial gets done without another mass murder or bombs going off...where is he supposed to go after it? Blackgate can't hold him. Arkham will just make him worse and give him more idiots to use as fodder when he breaks out. Even if the Feds take him far away from here, he'll bust out and do the same twisted shit or he'll be on Death Row getting 3 hots and a cot for 50 years before he rides the lightning down to hell. He's the reason why this city and everyone in it is fucked so he needs to die sooner rather than later."

"I agree but that doesn't mean that his executioner has to be you."

"Are you sure about that?"

"...it shouldn't have to be you."

"Well, somebody else better step the fuck up soon because I'm tired of him hurting people!"

"So am I."

It had dawned on Selina Kyle during her chat with Ecco that someone was funneling information to The Dark Zone, far more than what was coming out. On the surface, all was calm. Those who managed to get to The Green Zone told a different story. People were being tortured and killed just for the thrill of it. Supplies were strictly rationed out, tied to a system of credits. The credits were earned by causing mayhem or through hard labor.

Smaller gangs roamed the Zone's streets like packs of wild animals: fighting, partying, looting, and fucking nonstop. Jeremiah's stronghold held the biggest number of people. It was the center of the action. A select few were fanatically devoted to him like Ecco. Unfortunately, the place was mainly housing people caught in the middle, just like the ones who had escaped from Penguin's City Hall stronghold and Zone.

They were in a far worse situation and needed to be rescued. Valeska was counting on it happening. He would have all sorts of SAW traps ready to make things harder for everyone. He had been ignored for too long and Selina had thrown down a very public, very bloody gauntlet when she did what she did at Haven.

Jeremiah was looking for a grand Show Stopping Number. He wanted to be the Star of the Show and he would get his wish. People like Jim Gordon wouldn't let the shitty situation stand for much longer. They couldn't. After all, they were do-gooders and stalwart heroes. Their noble work was never done. Plus, nobody deserved to be trapped with a leisure suit wearing off brand Jim Jones with a fetish for domestic terrorism.

Not to mention that everybody, even those who initially benefited from The Bridges Falling, hated the dumb fuck for making it happen with help from Ra-men Noodle Soup.

Mercifully, that twisted bastard was very much dead and would stay that way. The Knife had done him in just before the bombs blew. Barbara had grabbed Bruce and used him to ram the enchanted blade straight into where the man's heart would have been if he had one. After slaughtering all the men, Ra's Al Gul's female followers had pledged their allegiance to her, giving her a devoted Amazon Army, but the damage was done.

Destroying the bridges ruined everything for everyone. Initially, it had been like Criminal Christmas but now, it was after New Year's and everyone was hungover and depressed.

Yes, the bad guys finally got their glorious victory but at what cost? Ruling Gotham didn't mean anything if supplies couldn't come into the city. Ruling Gotham didn't mean anything if the people they wanted to take advantage of inside of it died or rioted before they could. Fresh and packaged food, clean drinking water, safe places to sleep, medicine, ammo, clothes, booze, drugs...everything was running low. There was only so much that could be done before the situation got even worse.

They were running out of options and most dangerously, they were running out of hope.

Selina knew all too well what a lack of hope caused and she didn't want to see it happen again.

Salvation lay in Reunification with the mainland.

No matter what side of the law you were on, no matter what Zone or Turf you lived in, if one had an ounce of sanity left, they prayed to whoever and whatever they believed in for Reunification.

The government was doing everything to avoid making it happen, citing the ongoing danger.

Jeremiah Valeska was hands down the biggest problem keeping help away. If the impending rescue mission went well? If everyone in the city pooled resources and teamed up to take the circus freak's cult down for good afterwards? If they could show proof of Jeremiah's death or proof that he'd never be a major threat again like Sofia Falcone? It would eliminate lots of, if not all of the excuses and red tape. The few good people left in the government plus volunteers from all over the world could step up and come through. Then, they could all work together to rebuild and make the city better than ever.

They could heal and things could finally get back to as normal as Gotham would allow.

Despite getting out of their bed, Bruce hadn't joined her on the window seat and she knew why.

Ecco knew way too much about their relationship to be guessing. That meant that there was at least one spy inside the GCPD, Haven, and a bunch of snitches looking for street cred lurking about. Looking down, the night was dark and still. However, that didn't mean that they were alone. Yes, the 5 blocks around the townhouse were virtually deserted but there were lots of hiding places. Breaking into a house was child's play and spy cameras were better than ever. Valeska had been a brilliant scientist and engineer like Lucius Fox before he lost his marbles. If he really wanted to see and hear them living their lives?

"...let's give them something to talk about. They want to watch us? Fine. I don't give a shit about them and you shouldn't either because none of them matter. We do. We're good and he can't take that away from us. I won't let him."

Over the years, Selina had made the common mistake of equating femininity with weakness. She was a kid and later a woman on Gotham's mean streets. There was no room to be soft. There was no time to be weak and really, if she had a choice between swiping a carton of milk or a tube of lip gloss? It would be the carton of milk every time. She had to be practical. She had to be strong at all times...but that way of thinking was wrong. Selina was strong and badass no matter what she wore or stole. Nothing was stopping her from being soft yet strong except for her own bullshit. Having come to that realization, she had started making slow but permanent changes.

Soft fabrics and textures, brighter colors, makeup and nail polish...Selina had always appreciated pretty things. If she wasn't stealing basic things for survival, she would take jewelry, particularly diamonds. Nowadays, she indulged that side of her through her loungewear. She still wore Bruce's clothes but mainly, she donned nightgowns and robes when at rest. The robes were soft and warm, some even having deep enough pockets to hold multiple weapons. Her nightgowns ranged from hip to floor length. They had lace detail, pearl buttons, and satin bows to be tied or untied. Some of the gowns were thick, preserving her modesty and others were silky sheer, leaving very little to the imagination.

Selina had also started putting her hair up again. As wild as her curls had become, it was the only option other than a buzz cut. She was sure that she would look great with short hair but she wasn't brave enough to reach for the clippers yet. Her hair being up most of the time meant that she had a growing collection of pins, brooches, clips, and barrettes. Her favorites were a gift from Bruce. The large pins were platinum with raised cat's paw black diamond detail. Where and how he had gotten ahold of them was anyone's guess but she adored them. They were strong enough to keep her mane under wraps without pain. They doubled as lock picks and in a pinch, they could be weapons. They probably wouldn't slit a throat but when she went for the eyes?

Before Bruce could get settled, Selina was already invading and annexing his personal space.

He laughed at her audacity and laid back, happily letting her use him as a mattress.

Bruce was warm and smelled like safety. He had run out of his toiletries and while she did miss the spiced pine, he still smelled like home. His lips pressed against her temple and Selina hid her face in his chest. The full moon was bright in the smoggy skies and they were as safe as Gotham allowed them to be at the moment.

When times of peace came, it was best to grab onto them with both hands. How and why Bruce saw her as a part of his peace confused her to no end but Selina felt the same way about him.

That feeling of peace also added to her protectiveness over him.

People were always trying to take him away. They were jealous of his high social status, angry at him for interfering with whatever questionable and illegal stuff they did, or just plain nuts.

They wanted him dead and gone. They wanted him maimed and they desperately wanted to bring him down to their level to break him beyond repair. Bruce hadn't given in to any of them. He had made mistakes but he was still good to the bone. He genuinely wanted to be a good person and he wouldn't give up his light without a fight to the end. If Selina had a say in the matter, she would be fighting right by his side.

Bruce being Bruce would try to stop her but she would shut that shit down with prejudice. She did what she wanted whenever she wanted. Nobody could tell her what to do. No matter what happened, at the end of the day, they were in it together. She and Bruce were their best selves together. They could take on the biggest threats and win, even when one or both of them got hurt. Even at her angriest at him and vice versa, when it counted the most, they were a team.

No, they were a family.

"...everything you said to Ecco about our possible future earlier...did you mean it?"

"Yeah."

"How long have you felt that way?"

"A while. I just...I figure that if I'm gonna be happy down the road, like legit happy? Then, you're in the mix and if I wasn't serious about us sticking together, then I wouldn't be here with you right now. Does that make sense?"

"It does."

It was hard for her to trust. It was even harder for her to talk about her feelings but Selina wanted things to be crystal clear. Most of the problems between her and Bruce started with a misunderstanding. Not only that but Selina had seen what happened with other couples when they weren't honest with each other about themselves. It led to drama and all sorts of heartbreak that she didn't want either of them to feel again.

Outside of her relationship with Bruce, Selina didn't want to wake up 10, 20 years from now and have nothing to really show for her life but regret. She needed to change her ways and mean it.

Many would call her wrong to change. They would say that she was being stupid and weak.

She wasn't. She had thought long and hard about it.

Being trapped in that damned hospital bed gave her plenty of time to mull over her options.

At the time, the only endgame she saw and wanted for her future was death. She was a cripple, a burden, and she wanted out. It was no less than what she deserved, she figured. She had been playing Russian Roulette with her life for years and the bullet had finally been in the chamber.

Selina had given up and had expected everyone else to do the same. That hadn't happened and against all odds, she got another chance. She had been knocked down but not out.

Bruce had gone into the belly of Ivy Pepper III's poisonous plant covered beast to get help for her. He had stood up to a very angry, witch hunting mob and to Ivy herself more than once. He had risked life, limb, and what precious little sanity he had left just for her. The Root had fixed her spine and Selina was back on her feet almost immediately. She could stand, walk, run, and jump again. She was stronger than before, faster than before, smarter than before and she could do anything without feeling awful burning, numbing pain. Her dreamy words to Bruce before they embraced each other were absolute truth: she was better, better than ever before.

With her new abilities, Selina could become the undisputed Queen of Gotham's Underground. Either that or she could be a top tier Thief for Hire, taking on Jobs and pocketing big bucks.

Choosing either of those paths would set her up for failure.

They would make for a hollow and sad life, filled with nothing but danger and stress.

She would spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder for the cops or the Feds. She wouldn't have any true friends or family anymore. She would end up murdered in a street war. She would get hurt worse than when Five shoved her through the window and when Jeremiah shot her combined. The best outcome for her if she kept going as she was would be Exile, never able to set foot in Gotham again out of fear of rotting in a prison cell or bullet to the head.

She didn't want that.

Selina had witnessed the Rise and Fall of many of Gotham's rulers, people who seemed to be indestructible. Those people ended up locked in a cage, on the run, and dying violently. Not only did they end up betrayed and dead, their downfall always came about because of someone they trusted. Either someone they trusted or someone they underestimated. Mainly, their end came from someone that they had fucked over and didn't kill or make amends with afterwards.

Selina wasn't sure what she was going to do with her life next. She had been a Thief for almost as long as she could remember but enough was enough. It truly was.

She had messed up a lot. She had been selfish, bitchy, and lost good friends. She had backed the wrong players in Turf wars, leading to people dying and getting hurt who didn't deserve it. She had hurt people who cared about her and honestly, there was only so much dumb/good luck left in the world for her. She had gotten more than her fair share of it.

It was time to straighten up and fly right before it was too late.

Selina only had 7 of her 9 lives left and she would be damned if she wasted them.

/

8 Days Later...

"I thought you'd be Jim."

"Yeah, me too but he's got his hands full with Lee right now."

"That better be fucking literally. The woman risked it all to get herself and those kids away from those tunneling psychos because she believes in him: not the GCPD, not the government, but him. Even after all the bad things that happened between them, she did that shit so he needs to take his head out of his ass and be with her forever. He's never gonna do any better and as awesome as Lee is, she won't either. They're it for each other. They tried to pretend that they weren't and made things bad for themselves and everybody around them. They can't get a do-over but they can move forward and they should. They'll have to work their asses off for it but it's doable. They're good together so they need to stop being dumb and start being happy before it's too late."

"...you ever consider writing an advice column? You'd make a killing."

"Anything's possible. Wanna come up?"

"Nah. I've had my fill of roof ledges and of being hypnotized. I should've shot that twisted little rhyming freak in the face when I had the chance."

"You'll get another one real soon. Tetch always follows the craziest ones and ain't nobody in town crazier than Valeska, not even Barbara, which is what you're here to talk to me about."

"Yeah."

"...when he tries to kill B and Lurch again, I'm gonna do what I gotta do to protect them but we're going to The Dark Zone to save people and to take as much loot that we can carry with us. I can keep my cool."

"Are you sure?"

"Mm-hm. I'm not gonna let him win, Harvey. It's part of my whole "know better, do better" Master Plan...plus, I don't wanna end up like Tabby. She let revenge get in the way, dropped her guard, and now she's Gone. I mean, she, her brother, and Butch did some fucked up shit to Penguin and his mom that definitely needed to be paid for with blood but she still didn't deserve to die like that. She should've had a fair fight. Yeah, he would've got her in the end but he'd be dead too so it would've balanced out, y'know?"

"Yeah...speaking of keeping things balanced, could you get down from there?"

"But why, though? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Giggling, Selina did two flips in quick succession before rising up on her steel clawed fingertips.

"Knock it off! See, this is why I hopefully don't have kids..."

The Twelfth Precinct was a buzzing hub of activity. At midnight, a trio of emaciated children had shown up in the lobby with haunted eyes. None of them had said a word but a note had been pinned to one of their dingy red and white striped shirts. Letters from various magazines had been glued to the yellow legal pad paper, spelling out the words COME SEE ME. I'M BORED. Underneath was a picture of a deranged clown's grin in purple Sharpie, surrounded by laughter written in blood. Whose blood the HAs had been printed in was a mystery but the message was clear: Valeska was more than ready for his closeup.

At least the bastard had the decency to throw down his gauntlet before winter arrived. It was going to be hard enough getting everyone in and out of The Dark Zone alive. The last thing they needed was someone to slip on some ice or for a blizzard to be going on, too. Maybe if things went well, the government would take their heads out of their asses before Christmas.

After downing the last of her water, Selina went towards the file room. There was a loose vent cover and she could fit into the surprisingly clean air ducts with ease. The Twelfth's basement had a boxing gym inside of it and Bruce was down there preparing for the raid. She wanted to make sure that he was okay but also didn't want to break his focus.

He needed to be at 110%.

Jeremiah wouldn't go down without a fight nor would he go down without a one on one confrontation with Bruce. It just wasn't in his nature. It wasn't in not so dearly departed his evil twin Jerome's either. Everything they did had to be dramatic. Everything had to be big, loud and the more bloodshed, the better.

God, Selina was looking forward to him being gone for good.

The world would be better off without him and his followers running around. Jeremiah being gone meant that there would be one less demented asshole trying to hurt or kill Bruce. That was always good in her book...

Getting to her destination, Selina stretched before replacing the vent cover. The basement locker room was co-op but only slightly bigger than the ones upstairs. It was used for storage mainly but people could still get a quick, lukewarm shower or a nap if they needed to. Years of practice kept her light on her feet and she sat down on the bench in front of the first row of gray lockers. The room was dark but the gym's overhead lights shone through the exit's frosted glass window, highlighting all the shadows.

"...you're worried."

"I'm not just worried. I'm terrified. I don't want her within a mile of him but Selina is one of the best fighters we have, if not the best. Plus, if I tried to tell her to stay here, she would not only come with us anyway but she would literally whip my ass for bossing her around outside of our bedroom. No, thank you."

"Smart man. Selina's not going to risk her life without a good reason. She never does."

"I know and she's right. Jeremiah needs to be stopped for good. His death is the only way that we can be sure that he and his followers don't hurt anyone else, at least for a little while."

"But?"

"...I don't want her to be like I was after killing Ra's. She's already been through so much and I don't...I know that she's killed before. I know that but it's different this time, Alfred. Everything is different now and I can't lose her. Not her, too."

"You won't lose her."

"How do you know?"

"Faith."

Faith was another concept that Selina had trouble coming to terms with. The nuns at the orphanage had spoken about it all the time, as had the priests during the sermons she had attended. Street kids called it Sermons for Supper because after every service, there would be a hot meal and supplies from a food bank offered to them.

Faith was held up as the key to ultimate happiness and salvation, which she believed to a point but at the end of the day? The only faith Selina had was faith in herself.

Putting faith in others was a risk that usually wasn't worth it. It was just another way to get fucked over and heartbroken. Maria had taught her that lesson. Her interactions with Gotham's Rulers and her Squad had been a harsh teacher, too. Don't put faith in anyone for more than a few minutes at a time. Any longer and things would go wrong.

That was Rule Number 2.

Rule Number 1 was to Look Out for #1.

But Alfred had faith in her now. Gordon and the other cops did, too and Bruce? Bruce thought the fucking world of her. He really did and Selina just didn't get it. What did he see that she didn't? What did the others see that she didn't? She really should ask them one day but honestly, Selina was afraid of what they'd say. Another Rule of survival was to make sure that no one had any expectations of her outside of the bare minimum. She had broken it before.

Hell, she was shattering it now.

She had chosen a side and was open about said loyalty. Before, Selina kept her options open and made sure that everyone knew she was going to save her skin first, no matter what happened. Now, she had cut off all ways to make a clean break from everyone around her and more importantly, she didn't want to. Selina wouldn't be any better off if she left Gotham behind nor would anyone else. She would miss her family so fucking much and they would miss her too because she mattered to them.

Selina mattered to people as herself now.

Not as an elite Thief, not as a glorified Errand Girl, just herself.

Would she ever get used to that?

Deciding to save the rest of her existential crisis for later, Selina joined them in the gym. Bruce was sitting on the staircase, head bowed. He looked as if the world was resting on his shoulders. Alfred had his pistol up but as soon as he saw that it was her, he lowered it immediately.

The relief in the man's body language said it all and Selina nodded, removing her jacket.

"I got him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Jim was looking for you. He says he wants you to team up with the Sniper Squad."

The ball was in her court now. Bruce was expecting her to make the first move and Selina wasn't about to disappoint him. However, she was going to do it differently. That was another part of her new lifestyle: being unpredictable in good ways. Also, Bruce was in a very dark place at the moment so her usual methods would shut him down. She didn't want that. Neither of them needed that. Soon, they would be facing the monster in the closet head on. If they weren't at their best, Jeremiah would run roughshod over both of them and Selina would be damned if she let that happen.

The asshole had won his battles but he wasn't going to win the war.

In a smooth motion, Selina had her bull whip unfurled. The tip of it hit the boxing ring's bell dead on, clanging it. She did it twice more before taking 5 steps backward, aiming again. Her next target was a large string of half lit Christmas lights. They fell from their place in the corner after 2 strikes. For the next few minutes, she picked random objects in the room to hit, continuing to add distance and speed to her movements. Accuracy and agility won fights or at least bought her enough time to run away from whoever wanted a piece of her most of the time.

Once Selina was warmed up, she began running through her repertoire of combat moves. Many of them had been taught to her by Tabitha but Selina had come up with a few attacks on her own. She had been meaning to teach them to her but so much happened before she could.

She started hanging around Bruce after his Spiral ended, cutting into her time on the Streets and at Siren's. Tabitha had gotten caught up in what would end up being the last round of her war with Penguin while trying to get help for Butch Gilzean's Frankenstein infection. Sofia Falcone went off the rails and started her own war with Penguin before Lee's headshot made the snooty bitch into steamed broccoli. Raise da Roof got resurrected and went on a magical rampage.

Shortly afterwards, Valeska had set up his Little Warehouse of Horrors, making her have to save Alfred and Bruce from Scarecrow's upgraded terror gas. Valeska shot her in the spine and paralyzed her. The Bridges Fell and then the shootout after the helicopter crash happened...god, if Barbara hadn't already laid claim to the little shit stain's life, Selina would take it herself!

Penguin had raised so much hell leading up to The Bridges Falling and the way he killed Tabitha was just plain wrong. Her sister deserved a far better death than the one she got. Then, his Marie Antoinette behavior towards the people living in his Zone, the trouble he had caused until the attack at Haven...

"I'm sorry, Selina."

The defeat in Bruce's voice melted and shattered her heart in her chest. Selina joined him on the staircase and rested her head on his right bicep.

"Why are you sorry?"

"...I don't know. I'm just am."

"You told Alfred how you really feel about what's going on and that's good. You need to do that more often. Holding that kind of heavy stuff in isn't good for your brain, especially nowadays."

"I know. I've been working on it. Cat, I..."

"Stop. I get it. I'm scared shitless, too."

"You are?"

"Duh. Bruce, saying that I can keep my cool is one thing but actually doing it while rescuing a bunch of traumatized people from the sickest fuck that's ever slithered out of the swamp is a whole other ballgame. Jeremiah is sick, twisted, and all the way wrong, even by Gotham's standards. He's a monster that hurts people because he thinks it's the right thing to do, which is way worse than him just doing it for funsies. You don't want me within a mile of him? Well, I sure as shit don't want him or any of his minions to be on the same planet as you. None of them deserve to breathe the same air as you and I fucking hate it when you're in pain."

He snorted rudely at her last declaration and Selina chuckled before clarifying.

"I fucking hate it when you're in pain that I didn't cause or when you're in pain that could put you in a padded room or body bag. Jeremiah hits all of those marks and then some."

Bruce nodded in agreement before closing his eyes again. He looked exhausted and like he was fighting through one hell of a headache. Wanting to help, Selina slowly made her way onto his lap, purring softly. Once she was straddling him, she removed her gloves before letting her nails rake over his scalp. Bruce rested his head on her shoulder to give her better access and she settled in. His hands easily spanned her waist and his fingers locked, holding her fast.

The Root fixed her spine and changed everything else about her. Selina was still human overall but as time passed, more feline behavior and thinking came into the mix. The changes were most obvious when she was angry and especially when it came to showing Bruce affection. She would purr at him, sit on his lap, ambush him, rub against him, and groom him when he would let her.

He always let her.

It made them both feel better.

Life was better when they were together.

It still sucked but having each other made things much easier.

Bruce's hair was getting long. It wasn't hair metal long but it was longer than she had ever seen it. Honestly, she didn't mind. The length gave her more to hold onto when they were really going at it and it was silky soft. It was silky soft, fun to play with, and annoyingly manageable. All he had to do was wet it and take a comb to it before he would be good to go. Meanwhile, really tackling her hair took hours of strength, courage, and at least three tumblers of bourbon.

"Ooh, I'm starting to see some silver fox action...are you getting old on me, Master Bruce?"

Her imitation of Alfred was completely spot on and never failed to make him giggle.

"Any gray hairs that I have now and in the future are entirely because of you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you!"

"What the hell did I do?"

"What the hell haven't you done?"

"I can think of a couple of things...speaking of us getting old and gray, I'm actually 20, not 19."

"Are you serious?"

"Yep. I got bored while Vanessa's crew did a supply swap so I went down to Gotham General's file room and found the O.G. print of my birth certificate. The rest of my birthday's the same but I'm 20. It didn't say who my father is but given Maria's fabulous taste in men, he's either a filthy rich dipshit that she trick-rolled after a Gala or a wannabe hustler she decided to share body heat with to get by. Either way, I don't wanna know. Not anymore. As far I'm concerned, I'm the twisted rage filled root of the Kyle family tree and that's A-OK with me. Hey, that rhymed!"

"It did and it was wonderful...are you sure?"

"Mm-hm."

"All right. But if you ever change your mind..."

"I'll let you know and we'll go looking for him...do you feel better now?"

"Yes. Thank you, Cat."

"You're welcome. Do you want me to get off of you?"

"Not yet."

"Okay, then...wanna make out?"

/

"What else did you find?"

"Another first aid kit, 8 mason jars, a half empty bottle of scotch, and some big ass bundles of yarn, like really good yarn. I think it might be cashmere."

"Let me see...it is."

"Groovy. We can use it to make socks and patch blankets or the docs can use it for surgeries. Whatever comes first. Do you know this place? It seems like you would know this place..."

"No, but after things get back to normal, I'll be sure to find out who it belongs to."

Even though word had likely spread about the impending Raid, everyone involved in it kept things as lowkey as possible. There was a sense of urgency in The Green Zone and amongst its allies but there had been no showing off. They would leave all of that to Valeska.

Everything went into battening down the hatches. Everyone had a job to do, even some of the kids (not by force, never ever by force!) and they would face whatever was to come head on. Gotham was no stranger to crises. Over the years, it had been the center of absolute mayhem. From gas attacks to magical curses to torture disguised as Frankenstein "science", and so many fires, so many explosions. The Bridges Falling was just the latest example of it. The city had been rocked to its foundations and while it was battered, it was still standing. It was ready for more rounds in the ring and whatever happened? Happened. The city would survive and recover or go down swinging. At this point, there were no other options.

As grim as that fact was, it was also comforting.

One way or another, it was finally going to be over...

Selina joined him at the window, standing tall next to him as always.

"We've got it. Tomorrow Night? We'll get it done and we'll get help from across the river."

"You don't know that."

"If you go into a fight or Job thinking that you're gonna get your ass kicked, then you will. As far as I'm concerned, Jeremiah is as dead as Raisin Bran Crunch. They'll burn in Hell together forever and the government will be out of excuses for staying away from here. They'll help out or we'll go to the Media with both barrels to make them. You know how Foxy and his Crew figured out a way to get radio messages out to folks overseas?"

"Yes."

"Well, somebody found a video camera to go with it and people are already telling their Stories. Once they get to the general public, I give it less than 2 days before the government shows up fashionably late with fake apologies and a blank check for everyone's troubles. Nobody wants to be known for breaking those nifty little Geneva rules, after all. At least not in a way that they can be pinched."

"Since when have you been such an optimist?"

"I'm not. I'm just stating facts."

"...I hope you're right."

"I'm always right."

"Debatable."

"Even when I'm wrong, there's enough right to be had in what I say and do so things work out."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"You understood me, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Then it makes sense. Now, are you gonna keep brooding or are you gonna come to bed?"

"...both."

Bruce had a playful side. It was usually hidden but when it came out? God, it was fucking awesome. It was also a way of letting Selina know that life's hard knocks hadn't gotten him all the way down. She laughed as he tackled her to the mattress, holding him to her. Her hands went to his shoulders as he turned them to the side, keeping his back to the locked door.

She didn't have to ask why.

Bruce felt guilty for being unable to protect her in the Study. He shouldn't but he did. Valeska's actions were his own and he had been so determined that even if he had been able to cover her, all it would've done was get them both shot. They didn't need that. Neither of them deserved that.

God, they had been through so much that they didn't deserve.

It was a miracle that they were alive and mostly sane.

Intercepting his hand before it could bury in her curls, Selina pressed a kiss to the back of it before resting it right where her heart was pounding. Bruce's gaze was painfully soft, open and full of love, desire, worry, always the worry...

"Everything is gonna work out the way it should. You'll see."

She would not accept another outcome.

/

"He'll slow you down."

"He already has but y'know what? I would rather be slow as fuck with him than fast as fuck without him. I'll get where I need to go regardless."

"You feel that way right now but wait until he..."

"Stop."

"Selina..."

"Look, if I haven't been able to talk myself out of being with him by now, then you're sure as shit not gonna do it so just let it go. Please."

"...fine. You want another?"

"Yeah, but I can't. Not until after."

"It's a suicide mission. All of them are heading into a death trap."

"You're not wrong."

"But you're still gonna go with them? You want to get even with the ginger that badly?"

"That and people in The Dark Zone need help, Barbara. They've already been ditched by the Feds. They don't deserve to be ditched by the few decent people left around here. They really don't and if I don't go on the Raid, B will definitely do something overly noble and fucking stupid before they can stop him and then we'll have to deal with Strange's bitch ass to put his pieces back together again. That little Frankenstein bastard makes my skin crawl and he'd definitely try to force me in all of my plant based catgirl freak of nature glory to be his next test subject as payment. Fuck that shit."

"Since when have you been such a bleeding heart?"

"Since always. I'm just more open about it now because I'm too tired to keep pretending. Don't get me wrong: I'm still a cunt. I will be until the day I die and I kick Tabby's ass down in Hell because she's on my throne..."

"Not if I do it first!"

"...I would pay top dollar to see that...the point is that I care. I care and I wanna use whatever time I've got left on this piece of shit rock that we call Earth to do more good things than bad. I should be dead or trapped in a wheelchair right now but I'm not so I gotta square things with whoever's in charge up there for giving me a second chance. Well, third, if you've been keeping score at home. I'm not saying that I'm gonna turn into the next Mother Theresa but..."

"I get it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just...I don't wanna bury you, too, Kitty-Cat. Do your best to not let that bleeding heart of yours put you down before your time but if it does? Take them all with you. Burn it down, burn it down..."

"...all the way to the got-damned ground!"

"That's my girl...so, is this the part where we hug?"

"It could be. It's up to you."

"Then it is. Bring it in."

"I'll see you soon."

"...y-you promise?"

"I promise."

///////////////////

"Y'know...it's a just damned shame. You're a damned shame. You had a chance to be different. You spent so much time in your secret hideout maze, doing kickass science things and you threw it all away. You could've been like Lucius and used your mind to help people live better but you didn't. You could've asked for help after you got hit with a Nutfluenza money shot or come up with a Cure but you didn't. You decided to act just like your piece of shit Evil Twin and make the whole city suffer. Actually, I liked Jerome better. Sure, he was a psycho with way too much time on his hands but at least he wasn't a fucking pedophile."

"You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Oh, wait, I'm sorry. I meant an ephebophile. B falls right in that age group for freaks like you. Where's Chris Hansen when you need him? Why don't you have a seat over there?"

"You can't sit there and judge me. You're nothing but disgusting street trash and..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...I've heard it all before and from people better than you. Get better material, Pennywise."

"You ruined everything!"

"Oh, did I? I can't imagine how. You want some aspirin? I mean, getting caught in and half buried in rubble after a big ass explosion has got to hurt more than your pride..."

"I don't want or need anything from you."

"Obviously, you do or you would have tried and failed to kill me again by now."

Another tunnel operation had been found but instead of trying to get across the river, the route had led to Wayne Manor. Jeremiah and Ecco were long gone but the tunnels were ready for use. While everyone else had been debating (arguing...) about what to do next, Selina had gone forward, unwilling to wait for them. The bloodlust from had been soothed by dealing with the minions who tried to stop the mission but curiosity itched and burned underneath her skin.

The tunnels had wooden supports and lanterns, along with stacks upon stacks of crates. Some were plain wood, holding various supplies, but what stood out to her were the red plastic cubes. Selina was no scientist or demolition expert but typically, bright red screamed kaboom at the top of its lungs. Stepping through the exit, she had been both impressed and horrified to recognize the hallway leading straight to Thomas Wayne's Study. What the fuck? Why would Valeska dig a tunnel leading there? He could've easily made a functional tunnel to get himself and his disciples free.

In fact, that would've been the best move. Anyone who could find a way out of Gotham's ruins automatically held all the cards in the deck and if Valeska had a fraction of common sense left, he would've immediately contacted all the Zone Leaders to do business from the other side of the river.

He had nothing but obsession left in his mind. Selina was no stranger to that mentality and had put the pieces together. He wanted to use the tunnel to access Wayne Manor so he could destroy it like the Bridges. The red containers were bombs or had explosives stashed inside of them, likely both. Whether Bruce was supposed to be inside was unclear but given how Valeska liked to operate, Selena would say that he was trying to blow Alfred up. Despite the Townhouse being Home Base, he still came to the Manor every weekend to check that no one was squatting and to clean.

Attacking the city, destroying the Bridges, shooting her...it was a Game to Jeremiah. Everything was a sick, twisted game to him and if Bruce wasn't going to play with him, then he had to be punished. But, why now? That was the Million Dollar Question: why was Jeremiah making so many major moves in so little time? It was like he was preparing to host a formal Gala or birthday party...or an anniversary...

"...it's because of what happened to his parents. The tunnel, all the bombs...you were gonna blow him up on the Anniversary and just wipe out the whole Wayne family, including their home. Damn. I guess if you can't have him, nobody can, huh?"

"You're not seeing the big picture...I should've been there...it would've been for the best.!"

"You wanted to be there? I was there. I saw...I heard...if you gave a damn about him, the only way you being there would've been for the best, is if you found a way to make sure that they were able to go home as a family! I was there that night and I didn't help them. I couldn't because I was too scared and too selfish. Well, that and because it happened so fast. They were...they were just trying to go home. They were in that alley because they were trying to go home and because of this city's bullshit, because of this city's Elite's Illuminati on meth bullshit, they were shot down in front of their baby and he ain't been right ever since! My word isn't worth a lot but I can promise you that you did not want to be there!"

One of Selina's biggest regrets was her lack of action during that night. She had only been 15 at the time, yes but she could've tried. She could've thrown the carton of milk or the wallet she had lifted. She could've screamed, drawing the gunman's attention, and given the Waynes a chance to run. She could've...but she couldn't have. Her heart screamed otherwise but her mind...even if she had made a move, it wouldn't have made much of a difference in the long run. Knowing what she did now, it would've just ended up with her and Bruce in the grave, too.

Thomas and Martha Wayne had pissed the wrong people off. They hadn't meant to do so but they had. They had kept deep dark secrets, big ugly secrets that had been on the verge of coming out, and things had to stay status quo. Dead Men Told No Tales so the Hit had been called.

Simple as that.

It was nothing personal.

It was just business.

The idea of someone recreating that awful night made her want to tear the whole world apart but Selina would be glad to settle for the prowling "man" below her. Valeska was currently pacing the catwalks above the vats of bubbling foaming mystery fluid. Given that they were currently in Ace Chemicals, Selina could assume that the main ingredient to the frothy white fluid was acid. Acid and other scientific things that could destroy anyone or anything. That had been the other part of the plan. Valeska wanted to poison what little fresh water was left with a truck full of acid bombs and fireworks. Fortunately, the destruction of the Wayne Manor tunnel and Gordon getting the truck away from him had prevented that from happening.

Now, it was a waiting game. Selina had claimed a spot near the roof, giving her a clear view without being in easy range for a bullet. It was wonderful to see the surviving bastard responsible for everyone's misery unraveling in real time. Up until now, he had a Master Plan, a Mission that he had taken great pains to accomplish. Valeska wanted Gotham to be a shell of itself forever and he wanted Bruce to be a part of his fantasies.

Since Bruce had proven more than once that his answer would be a firm 'NO', he decided to target those who meant the most to him as punishment. Valeska had scored some critical hits against all of them but at the end of the day, he was doomed and he knew it.

"...they're coming for you, Jeremiah. Everybody knows where you are and that you're not untouchable anymore. You might as well put the bullet you should've put in my head in yours because if the Zone leaders or Feds don't get you, the whole city is gonna tear you to shreds for getting us into this mess. Raise da Roof used you like he did to everyone else and left you holding the bag."

Before Valeska could retort, several smoke bombs rolled in and detonated. The sound of sirens and angry Gotham citizens soon followed. A grin lit up her face at the terror on stupid fuck's face.

Ah, the calvery...

/

The Next Morning...

"He had it coming."

"...he did."

"It was either him or us. It wasn't going to be us."

"He shouldn't have threatened you. He knew that I would..."

"You did what any person worth a damn would do to protect yourself and your family."

Jeremiah Valeska had fallen into one of the vats of mystery chemicals. More accurately, he had been kicked off the catwalk he had claimed for himself by Bruce.

Bruce being Bruce had gone full out. As soon as he was inside, he was taking the stairs two at a time. He hadn't let Valeska say a word before tackling him and slamming an elbow into his face. Selina had descended from her hiding place and unfurled her bull whip, cracking it in challenge. Even if Jeremiah managed to get away from him, he wasn't getting away from her.

Every time the demented clown managed to land a hit on Bruce or tried to run, he got a lashing from her, enraging him further. He yelled that he was simply trying to bring truth to Bruce, to all of Gotham and she kept ruining everything. He called her every name under the sun and vowed that not only would he shoot her in the head as he should've in the study, by the time he was done with her, she would beg for him to do so.

That had been his last mistake.

To give Valeska a little bit of credit, he hadn't screamed when he went flying. A noise that could've been one escaped him as he went under but it was mostly gurgling. The blaring of alarms filled the factory and whatever kept the vats bubbling shut down immediately. On the surface of Valeska's vat was a thick layer of makeup and slowly, slowly, his limp body bobbed up to the surface. The sight of him was utterly repulsive, the stench choking, but even as Selina knelt with Bruce, even as she hugged him from behind as he wept, she smiled.

Just as she had told Ecco, it was better for the enemy to die than her family.

Ecco was dead. Not only was she dead, Valeska had killed her himself. Well, he had given her a coup de grace shot. Once the prisoners realized what was happening, they began to fight their captors with everything they had. Ecco had been trampled in the chaos and someone had slashed her just below the ribs, mortally wounding her. She had gotten up and limped to Valeska who had been about to make his escape. According to witnesses, Valeska had hugged her before shooting her in the head again, this time center mass.

Then, he left in his purple Lamborghini like it was nothing because to him?

She was just that.

Nothing.

Nothing but another pawn to sacrifice. Nothing but a bedwarmer and an ego boost.

Sometimes, Selina hated it when she was right.

It was such a fucking waste.

The sound and sight of military helicopters going past the windows was welcome but infuriating. Just as Selina predicted, as soon as the full truth of what was happening in Gotham reached international ears in power, the government quickly got into motion. The minefield that had been illegally placed was gone within 4 hours and ships were already docking. Some were evacuation ships. Other were supply ships. Still others were converted into medical ships and dormitories. People were getting in contact with loved ones and the outside world for the first time in nearly 3 years. People were eating fresh food again. People had fresh water again. Not only that but the streets were filled with Jeeps, tanks, delivery trucks, soldiers, doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists, social workers...

They should have shown up sooner.

Despite the euphoria of finally getting the help they've needed, that was the overwhelming sentiment in the air. Gordon being Gordon said it straight to the Head Honcho's face and to the man's credit, he had readily agreed.

There was no getting around it. The Fallen Bridges crisis had been mismanaged and there was blood gushing from the government's fingertips. Selina wanted every coward involved to pay for abandoning them. They deserved to pay with interest for what they had allowed.

They deserved to suffer like the bastards who had directly caused the crisis.

Ra's Al Gul was dead forever, reduced to ashes and his empire in ruins.

Through the window, they were looking at what was left of Jeremiah Valeska.

He had survived his fall but alive wasn't a word that anyone could use to describe him. He was heavily sedated with an IV drip providing fluids with a feeding tube in his nose, and an oxygen mask over his face. His wrists were handcuffed to the railings and he would be under constant supervision via cameras. He would spend the next few months in the locked hospital room until a custom-built cell in Arkham's deepest depths was ready. No medical personnel would be allowed to tend to Valeska without armed bodyguards present.

The vat of chemicals had made Jeremiah into a cross between a zombie, a broken mannequin and beef jerky. His hair was crispy and most of it had fallen out. His face was destroyed from his injuries, swollen and sunken in all at once. His hospital gown engulfed his skinny body and his blankets were clean but far from comfortable.

It was way better than the bastard deserved. They should've just thrown him in the harbor.

"You were right. We took Jeremiah down and outside help is finally here. We're safe."

"We are. See? I told you everything would be..."

"Selina."

Bruce's solemn hessonite gaze had something new within it, something that made her pulse pick up. Selina knew in her bones that Bruce would never hurt her outside of defending himself and even then, he refused to do real damage. Why? Because he was a gentleman, an aristocrat, even. Also, because she was precious to him, the one who he wanted and needed to be with him. Selina didn't want to spend the rest of her life alone. She wanted to have true friends, a Squad, a family...

His arms snapped forward and Selina's gasp morphed into a deep moan as his lips crashed down on hers. The amount of passion in his kiss, the greedy possessiveness of his hands on her ass, his scent, his warmth had her rolling her hips against him, trying to feel more of him, all of him. God, she wanted to feel all of him! Someone, the worst someone, had tried to take him away from her again but had failed miserably. They had faced the sick fuck head on and beat him to a pulp. Bruce was still alive, still with her, still himself and she just...

"...need you, baby."

"...find us somewhere private."

That would be simple. Selina had made a point to learn the blueprints of every major landmark in Gotham while growing up. The knowledge had saved her life and others many times. Gotham General had been one of the first places she memorized plus her experiences in the building as a patient and visitor gave her everything she needed.

Bypassing the elevator, she led him into the stairwell and after descending 4 flights, Selina whimpered as Bruce pulled her flush against him. She rested her hands on the arms wrapped around her waist and tilted her head in offering. His kisses were tender and her knees threatened to give out as he nipped her just underneath her earlobe.

"I love you. I love you so much... mon chaton... mon ange... je t'aime tellement putain...(my kitten...my angel...I love you so fucking much...)...want to give you everything...whatever you want, Selina, it's yours..."

"You...I just want you...I-I love you, too...so fucking much...god, B, stop...let me...we need a bed...please, baby..."

"I love it when you call me baby..."

He was hers. Selina had done everything she could to fight against it, to guard her heart but Bruce Wayne was utterly irresistible to her. He brought out the best in her and it went both ways. She had hurt him in the past. He had hurt her, too but they knew better now. They knew what not to do and had accepted that while they were excellent apart, together? They were unstoppable. They could create miracles and help people and just do good things.

What she said to Barbara at Siren's was the truth. Selina had spent her childhood in Gotham's Underground, doing whatever it took to survive and to gain respect on the streets. She was tired. She had faced the karmic justice she had earned for her misdeeds but she had been saved, restored and made greater by the man she was hurriedly leading down the main hallway.

She had a fresh start, a blank slate and while she had decided to permanently change her ways, one thing always would be the same: Selina did whatever she wanted, when she wanted, and nobody could stop her.

She wanted happiness.

Everyone deserved happiness.

She had a chance for happiness, for genuine joy, and she was going to grab it with both hands. As soon as they finally got to an on-call room, Selina barely got the door open before grabbing Bruce's jacket lapels and meeting him halfway. A delighted laugh escaped her as his hands cupped her ass again and she locked her limbs around him, letting him carry her. As much as she teased him for showing off his physical strength, she loved it. Bruce was strong, he made her feel safe and what woman didn't like to feel like a princess sometimes?

Plus, him lifting her more often would give him practice for their wedding day and night.

Resting her left hand where his heart pounded, she asked a simple but potent question.

"Do you think we can find a priest before we skip town?"

Bruce being Bruce picked up on what she was truly asking immediately and slowly, his left hand went to where her heart was. His smile was brilliant as tears of joy brewed. Their kisses softened into slow sweetness and nuzzling between removing articles of clothing. Skin. She wanted skin. She wanted to feel him, all of him for the rest of her life...

"I'm lousy with rings unless I'm using them as brass knuckles so it'll be better to buy a pendant for regular days but getting a wedding set for special occasions and public appearances is a good idea. Despite all the pain and bullshit attached to being a Kyle, I still wanna hyphenate and we deserve to have a huge wedding cake, goddamn it! It's the least that those goddamned cowardly sons of clap ridden bitches can do for us, given that we spent almost 3 years doing their jobs for them while they fiddled like Nero."

"Will you...I know you typically don't like wearing dresses but..."

"There's no fucking way that I'm not wearing a wedding dress. I'm only getting married once and I wanna do it right. Besides, I look hot in lace. You know that."

"All too well. I love you, Selina Kyle-Wayne. Always."

"...show me."

////////////////////////////

"B, you've already heard me say how I feel about you in my own very special and delightful way over the years so instead of reciting regular Vows, I'm just gonna share one of my favorite poems because it's better than anything that I could ever come up with:

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."

"...Pablo Neruda's 17th sonnet."

"Uh-huh...o-other than that, I just wanna say that I love you a-and that I wanna be with you as long as this fucked up world lets me and you're my best friend and I promise that I'm gonna be a good wife to you. The best wife."

"You already are."

It was a good thing that she had rejected all makeup except a magenta lip tint because she finally lost her battle with her tears. Bucking tradition, she embraced him and Bruce held her like he never wanted to let go. There wasn't a dry eye in the 12th Precinct turned wedding hall and Selina refused to feel embarrassed about being so open with her soft feelings. It was her wedding day, the only wedding day she would ever have. It was a day of joy and the biggest Fuck You they could give to everyone who ever hurt them.

Living well is the best revenge.

"I know that Shakespeare gets lots of props for how he writes about soft feelings, which is valid but to me? Pablo is way better than him. It's not even close. I found a 'Greatest Hits' book full of his work at The Flea when I was 10. Sonnet 17 always stuck with me. Despite Maria ditching me and Gotham being Gotham, I still hoped that one day, I would find someone that I could feel the same way about. And I did. I didn't mean to but I did...does this count as us saying 'I Do' because he just called me his wife in front of everyone and lemme tell you, Padre, I just really wanna kiss my husband right now..."

"That's up to the two of you."

Their first kiss as husband and wife was sweeter than all the ones they had before.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am very pleased to introduce you all to Bruce and Selina Wayne. Congratulations to you both. Live well. Be happy."

"We'll do our best, Father Matthews. Thank you."

Selina looked down at their entwined left hands, taking in the sight of rings on their fingers. Like her beloved hair pins and wedding pendant, they were platinum with black diamonds. The diamonds were embedded in Bruce's while hers was a 4-carat princess cut, flanked by two white pearls. She still didn't know where he had gotten all of the pieces but Selina knew that the pearls were a tribute to his mother.

After all, Martha Wayne had been known for her pearls and she had been a formidable woman, a fighter to the end. Selina appreciated that and like she had just promised, she was going to be a good wife to Bruce, worthy of helping him rebuild the Wayne family.

It was standing room only so the afternoon's spread had to accommodate them. The menu itself consisted of fresh fruit and vegetable platters, charcuterie boards, lemon chicken with mushroom risotto or turkey meatloaf with mashed potatoes both with confit byaldi as sides. There was ice water, sports drinks, and a variety of protein shakes and bars. Every Gotham citizen had malnutrition. If one was lucky, they had survived on MREs, bottled/boiled tepid water and what crops that had taken root, mainly tomatoes and potatoes. And booze. Lots and lots of booze, mostly homemade and caustic.

Their wedding cake was in the center of two vanilla sheet cakes for the guests. It was a simple lemon cake with white buttercream frosting with black frosting roses. It was 3 tiers and made by a posse of older women who had made their nursing home apartment complex into a smaller version of Haven. The people rescued from The Dark Zone lived with them, benefiting them all.

The Leader, Ms. Mabel Johanssen, or Mama Jo as she was called, had taken it upon herself to help Selina find her wedding dress. She, along with Lee and Barbara, had followed Mabel to the wedding boutique she had passed down to her oldest daughter (who had thankfully been out of town when The Bridges Fell) and it had only taken 30 minutes for Selina to find everything she wanted.

Her princess style dress left her shoulders bare, had three-quarter sleeves, and the bodice was white lace with pearl buttons, the lace holding a pattern of snowdrops. The bottom of it was ankle length with had just the right amount for material for swishing while dancing and to take flight when she spun. A pair of plush white loafers finished the look. Her manicure was a simple matte black with magenta french tips.

Her 'something blue' came from the electric blue nail polish she had painted on her toes and the cerulean dress color she had chosen for her bridesmaids. She had left the dress design up to them. Lee and Barbara were more than capable of dressing themselves. Barbara had chosen a one-shoulder bodycon dress that stopped at her shins and Lee had gone with an ankle length, sleeveless empire waist dress with a sweetheart neckline. Black stilettos completed their looks.

Her 'something old' was a 3-way tie between her Bowie knife, the gold studs she had kept since before Maria abandoned her, and Alfred.

Her 'something borrowed' had been Jim from Lee so he could walk her down the aisle.

His investigation into what happened to Thomas and Martha Wayne had led to where they were today. Were it not for him making her one of his street contacts and annoying her enough to want to be a good person every once in a while, she wouldn't be Selina Kyle-Wayne. Plus, walking down the aisle by herself didn't just feel right and far be it from her to pass up on an opportunity to tease Gordon in the future.

He had taken to the task with military precision while crying the whole time. It was sweet but she wouldn't be her if she didn't bust his balls about it. Hell, he would be worried if she didn't...

"Are you okay?"

"Yep. Are you okay?"

"I'm almost as amazing as you."

"...quit being sappy and help me cut this cake, douchebag. I'm hungry."

The members of the press that were present had their cameras working overtime but only Alfred and Barbara could get the best footage. As soon as Selina stepped into Siren's for her owed drink, the blonde had bowled her over in a hug. Between her sobs, Selina heard her thanking Tabby for not letting the universe take her away too. Of all people to be her Guardian Demon (because there was no way that Tab had even glimpsed at the pearly gates...), Tabitha was perfect for the job. Other than black being Bruce's trademark, she had picked her wedding manicure with her fallen sister in mind, as well as her lip color.

Once she heard about the wedding, Barbara had declared that she would be the videographer. Alfred could film for the family but for the official video, she would take charge. For all its campiness, the commercial she put together for Siren's had done its job so Bruce hired her. Plus, giving her such an important job guaranteed that she wouldn't cause trouble, especially since Lee was in the wedding party.

Any romance between Jim and Barbara had been rightfully put to rest ages ago. However, Barbara would occasionally have the same attitude about him as a child who didn't want a toy anymore but didn't want anyone else playing with it either. Plus, the two women had their own issues outside of him. Whenever they interacted, there was always a risk of violence.

Pleasantly surprising everyone, the pair were getting along just fine. If one didn't know better, they would assume that the women were close friends, maybe even Besties.

Time healed most wounds.

Finding out that Lee had purposely gotten herself captured by the tunneling psychos so she could rescue the enslaved 30 children and 15 adults had given her tons of street cred. Couple that with her using her status as Queen of The Narrows to help people and not hurt anyone who didn't deserve it? It was best to squash any lingering Beef, if not just for business purposes.

The best part? Lee acted the same as she did as before it all happened.

The camera shutters and flashes went even faster as Selina happily accepted a forkful of cake. Bruce chuckled as she purposely smeared some frosting over the tip of his nose while feeding him. After cleaning up with a napkin, he passed her a square plate to fill and that was the signal for everyone to start eating, drinking, and being merry. It was a reception, after all. Speaking of that...

"Dancing's mandatory but there aren't gonna be any toasts, right?"

"No."

"Thank God."

"I like what you did with your bouquet."

"Mama Jo said that she didn't want cash but she never said that we couldn't pay another way. Throwing the bouquet is a dumb tradition, anyways. How did it even get started?"

"While a bride carrying flowers and certain herbs has been a tradition for centuries, tossing the bouquet was a way in 19th century England to distract the crowd from chasing her."

"Why the fuck were they doing that? Did she owe them money?"

They both giggled before he pressed a quick kiss to the back of her hand.

"Not usually. On her wedding day, the bride was seen as the luckiest person in the area. People would want to touch her or take pieces of her dress and hair to make charms. Whoever caught the bouquet was seen to be next in line to get married and it also served as a fertility blessing."

"That's weird but also kinda wholesome. Now, eat. You'll need the energy for later."

"Yes, dear."

"Shut up!"

/

"My husband's standing right behind us."

"Hush, you."

"My vows to him were literal poetry but you're still going for it? Wowww..."

"Stop."

"No can do. Blushing Bride or not, I still gotta meet my daily quota of shit talking and if I didn't bust your balls right now, you'd be worried that you're sending B off with a clone."

"...she's not wrong."

"Annoying, isn't it?"

Grinning, Selina stepped back from them and watched the pilot shake Bruce's hand before he went in to prepare for takeoff. Although she knew that she was far more likely to be killed in a car accident, watching Final Destination at the age of 9 hadn't been the best idea. However, Bruce himself did not hire incompetent people and Foxy had personally vouched for the plane's safety so she'd suck it up.

It was fucking hilarious that she was afraid to fly while having no fear of leaping between buildings or climbing suspension bridges. If she had to guess, it was more about the lack of control but again, she'd suck it up. Where Bruce went, she followed and vice versa.

Plus, getting out of Gotham was necessary for them to truly recover and rest.

They wouldn't stay away forever. They had too many people they loved to do so and regardless of the new beginning, at the end of the day? Gotham was Gotham. The players in the game changed constantly but the city's Ways were in its foundations. The GCPD were outnumbered 50 to 1 and outgunned. Good cops rarely lasted long in the city. They either joined the other side, quit before the end of their first day, or they were collateral damage during a Maniac of the Week's temper tantrum.

Now that Gordon was Commissioner and had the government by the balls, those statistics would certainly change but there would always be a need for something more, for someone... for people firmly on the side of good who could operate in the shadows, who could dwell in shades of gray to get what needed to get done faster.

Everyone had a role to play.

But for now? It was time for her and Bruce to leave. They needed to leave Gotham behind to rest, recover, and explore the world together. Plus, if they were really going to commit to protecting the city from eternal darkness or whatever the fuck, they needed to go through years of extensive training so they could do it right.

They couldn't do that locally.

Once Bruce was released, he joined her at the bottom of the staircase.

"Are you ready?"

"Yep."

Just before entering the jet, Selina waved before happily flipping their father figures off.

The warm evening breeze carried the sound of their laughter as the door shut behind her.

/

"...so much for joining the Mile High Club."

"You needed your rest."

"Obviously. You got to carry me over the threshold and get a half marathon in. Why the hell is this place so huge? Were your multi great-grandpas compensating for something?"

"Cat, you know better than anyone that there's nothing to compensate for."

"Just because you can fill a pussy like an eclair doesn't mean that they could."

"Selina!"

"Would you have preferred if I said split it like a peach, my darling husband?"

The images on the big screen were loud. Images of Gotham Before and After, heart wrenching clips from viral interviews of survivors, people tearfully reuniting with loved ones, exhausted yet smiling children finally being fed properly, trucks of rubble being cleared, a stone-faced Jim Gordon glaring at the Head Honcho as he spoke outside of the reclaimed City Hall...the decorated military man had a black eye and a split lip.

See, not only had Gordon said to his face that they all should have shown up sooner, he said it after falcon punching the son of a bitch in the bullpen. The punch had been a thing of beauty, something straight out of an Indiana Jones movie!

As the news broadcast kicked off, a large collage of government officials was put on display for the world to see. The End of the Fallen Bridges Crisis was the hottest topic and would be for months to come. Their faces were out there but it wasn't enough to just show them. As if on cue, the camera zoomed into the collage and the screen smoothly transitioned into a slideshow. Name, State, Political Party, and how their negligence/cowardice made things worse for everyone trapped in Gotham, each remaining on the screen for 10 seconds each.

"Their families don't deserve it."

"I'll have The Board release a statement. What happens afterwards isn't my responsibility."

The TV was turned off and Selina grinned as he scooped her up in a fireman's carry.

"Who are you and what have you done with Bruce Wayne?"

"You're not the only person who can change their Ways and mean it, Selina."

Changed Ways or not, Selina could feel the Restlessness bubbling under her skin. It needed to be dealt with. Revenge needed to be dished out along with Justice. Not today, not tomorrow, not even a year down the road but eventually. Playing the long game made victory sweeter and just because living well was the best revenge didn't mean it was the only one.

Since she had far too much to lose now, Selina wouldn't kill anyone outside of another survival situation but that didn't mean she was out of options, especially since Bruce would be on board when she read him in.

It wasn't just The Fallen Bridges. There were other catastrophes that had been mismanaged. Gotham was Gotham but Selina knew that the inquiries would uncover at least one Cabal who made tons of money from the constant chaos for decades if the investigators had the balls to dig deep enough. Hell, maybe they wouldn't have to dig at all. Two baker's dozen worth of Geneva Laws had been shattered and justice needed to be served. Nobody wanted to get into that sort of trouble, no matter how tough they claimed to be. There was going to be a race to get to the best PR teams, the best lawyers, the best places to live in Witness Protection...

After reversing their positions, Selina captured his mouth, smiling as his hands slid underneath her top. She had woken up still in her wedding dress sans shoes but waiting on the vanity was one of Bruce's cashmere sweaters. That was what he wanted to see her wearing and she smiled as she put it on. Although Bruce was the poster child for overthinking, there were times where he was simple.

Men loved it when their companions wore their clothes...and when they could take them off.

Sitting up, Selina rested her head on his shoulder, chuckling to herself as she loosened the buttons of his shirt. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, instead of an undershirt, her hand rested on the bare flesh where his heart pounded below. After the shirt was off, Selina gave him a light shove so his back was resting against the headboard. His hands spanned her bare hips and held on tightly, his gaze riveted on her as she shed the sweater. She opened her mouth to say something but Bruce's lips captured hers, making her slump against him. His hands wandered over her back, caressing and massaging until she began to purr.

Skin. She wanted more skin, more of his warmth against hers, more of everything!

When they broke for air, Bruce helpfully lifted his hips and they chuckled as he struggled to kick off his pants for a moment before rejoining their lips. Better. Much, much better. No more barriers, just skin and love and safety. Familiar lips, familiar hands, familiar and delicious scent...her man, her mate, her everything...

"Like this?", he murmured while lining them up.

"Yeah...my favorite...want you..."

All the breath left her lungs as her husband pulled her down to meet his firm upward thrust into her and she shuddered. Selina's senses were engulfed by him, her husband, her love, her fucking everything...

"You are divine... mon doux ange... (my sweet angel..)"

Her response was to nuzzle him before dipping her head to suck just beneath his collarbone. Bruce liked it when she left marks on him. She wasn't sure why. Maybe it was part of his masochism, maybe it was because she was claiming him, giving him and the whole word proof that he was taken, wanted, needed, loved so fucking much that it hurt...

Selina cried out as he increased his pace and green tinted her vision as she peppered kisses to Bruce's jaw before nipping his earlobe. Her fingers bent and locked, her nails beginning to leave imprints in her mate's tender flesh. Not too hard, not too deep, she didn't want to hurt him in bad ways. He was Bruce, not an enemy to be dispatched or a toy to rip apart. He was her husband, her partner, her best friend, someone to be cherished, protected at all costs...

Selina kept her arms around him as her back hit the mattress and she shivered as his hot mouth found her nipples, moaning his appreciation. Closing her eyes, she let him his way with her, moving harder and faster, meeting him halfway. He felt so good, so fucking good, perfect, her favorite, her only...

"Look at me."

She whimpered.

"Look at me."

She moaned.

"Look at me!"

She obeyed and immediately fell over the edge, taking him with her. Pulling him down, she kissed him deeply, nipping and sucking at his lower lip. She could feel his smile and she smiled back, cupping his face. Bruce's full weight rested on her and she relished it. He was warm and smelled delicious, both of himself and their lovemaking. Despite the sunlight streaming through the balcony doors, a bone deep drowsiness had her sinking deeper into the mattress and pillows. After yawning, Selina helped him pull the bedding over their cooling bodies and Bruce pressed soft kisses to the beauty marks on her chest. She pecked his brow and squeezed him.

"Get some sleep, B."

"Are you sure? It's our honeymoon and..."

"Shhh...we have all day and I'll be here when you wake up. I'll be here for as long you need me."

"...promise?"

"I promise. Sleep, baby. I got you."

[friedchopstick]

A Kidney Function Test Ensure Well Functioning of Your Organ

A kidney function test is a laboratory test that is being done to evaluate the functioning of the kidney. The increasing risk of kidney disease leading to increased demand for kidney function tests. According to click here National Kidney Foundation, 1 in 3 adults is at the risk of kidney disease in the United States.

So it is important to have an earlier diagnosis of these diseases. This in turn can help in proper treatment and complications and any permanent damage to the kidney can be avoided.

What is a kidney function test?

A kidney function test is a clinical or laboratory procedure. It is designed to evaluate the functioning of the kidney. It helps in the diagnosis of kidney disorders. So various aspects of kidney capacity can be evaluated by a kidney function test.

What functions does the kidney perform?

The kidney is a vital organ of your body. It is bean-shaped and two in number. The kidney is located in the posterior side of your abdomen just below the ribcage. It plays many important roles in the body.

The main function of the kidney is to filter waste materials from the blood that is removed from the body in the form of urine. It also helps in maintaining an osmotic balance of the body fluid. Not only this, but the kidney also helps in the production of vitamin D, red blood cells, releases hormones important for maintaining blood pressure. So now you can imagine how crucial it is for the kidney to work efficiently.

[franceblr]

halfbaked sasodei hc #5. angsty and self indulgent.

dei struggles with managing emotions A LOT. he’s very used to ignoring all that is unpleasant or uncomfortable to him, locking all of his negative feelings up in secret compartment and push it all down so deeply it never sees the light of day. he’s mastered this so well, he doesn’t even bother evaluating what emotions arise as a result of what and why, he just brushes it all off until his mind stills and quietens, his jaw unclenches, and he can take a deep breath without feeling like he’ll choke. it’s mostly an on and off switch type of binary thinking; some emotions are good and they can stay, others need to go as soon as they come up.

because of his avoidant tendencies to shut down anything unpleasant, he doesn’t recognize his own triggers and often blows up in exaggerated fits of anger. anger deidara understands: delight and fury come equally easy to him at seemingly inappropriate times. he doesn’t quite know why hot white searing angers bubbles beneath his skin at all times, ready to spill over and erupt at the slightest inconvenience; he doesn’t even realize that often anger isn’t what he really feels, doesn’t understand that anger is just the superficial symptom of a bigger, uglier emotion lurking underneath.

sometimes, very rarely, it gets too much, to the point where even deidara cannot help himself but succumb to whatever nasty feeling’s been brewing and festering behind his ribcage, latching onto his heart and lungs and crawling up his throat. sometimes deidara has these episodes where it all comes out; sufficiently rarely for them to be exceptions, yet bad enough that sasori is forced to make an inventory of signs he should be on the lookout for to keep deidara’s tantrums at bay and his partner stable. sasori knows to pay notice to restlessness, withdrawal, skipping meals; knows to look for scratches, burns, bruises or cuts either where deidara thinks sasori won’t look, or in easily accessible spots that might pass as accidents; knows to check in with deidara when his laid back attitude and mild responses turn into snappy comments and personal digs, carefully crafted to start a fight; knows to get suspicious when deidara starts avoiding him and closing in on himself, instead of looking for his attention and company; knows to intensify surveillance on his partner and open all communication channels between them when deidara starts acting up and gets too violent on missions; knows that when it gets bad, deidara will lock himself up in the bathroom and sit on the floor shushing himself, and run his hands over his arms to calm himself down; knows that if it gets way out of hand, he’ll allow sasori to hold him down and shush him instead, because somehow sasori always knows better how to calm him down when he’s that far gone. he also knows that before it gets to that, there will be a series of changes in behavior and self soothing habits that deidara will develope unconsciously, in hopes to keep whatever it is that eats at him at bay, nicely contained and invisible.

deidara doesn’t really talk about it. if sasori brings it up, he gets evasive responses and vague enough answers. sasori suspects deidara doesn’t really know himself what the mechanism behind his episodes and tantrums is. he doesn’t know what the whole deal with deidara compartmentalizing all of his emotions is, cannot really reconcile his partner’s spontaneous and solar attitude, deidara’s carefree and independent spirit, with the teenager curled up in the bathroom sobbing in a towel so he won’t be heard. he tries to convince himself that he’s annoyed, not worried, that he doesn’t care, that he intervenes only because it’s such a huge inconvenience and an obstacle in their partnership, and not due to the stab of sympathy he feels whenever he sees deidara desperately try to keep it together and fail. tries to tell himself that he really doesn’t know the dark places deidara’s mind will travel to sometimes, tries to believe he’s never been there himself, tries to shut down the voice screaming at him that he was just as lost and alone as deidara was, that reminds him how feverishly and in vain he prayed someone would notice his pain and lift some of the burden off of his shoulders with the humanity sasori’s always been denied. tries, unsuccesfully, to rid sasori of the hope that one day deidara will speak to him, and he won’t have to feel his heart twist in concern whenever he notices his partner struggling.

funnily enough, deidara’s emotional illiteracy doesn’t extend to those around him. he’s particularly attuned to sasori’s feelings and moods, and over the years has learned to read all the clues and pointers to decypher and interpret his partner’s emotions. he always knows exactly when to be quiet and when to push for more; always knows when to clear the air and when his company is welcomed; can always tell when sasori’s most likely to accept his touch, and when he’ll reciprocate. sasori appreciates that about him, yet wishes deidara was as perceptive when it came to his own emotions so he’d be more self sufficient, and sasori, the same sasori who mutilated his own body as a teenager to rise above his own feelings and sorrows, wouldn’t have to try and be the emotional intelligence of the team.

[spicywhumper]

@femslash-february bingo 2024: came back wrong + whump bingo: near death experience

series: crimson history // rating: teen and up audiences

cw: survivor's guilt

She’s trying.

She’s really, really, really trying.

Just-

It feels like what happened at the warehouse has broken her. What happened at the warehouse, not during the last almost-two years, twenty-two months that don’t exist in her mind (or they do, Caroline can they, it’s there, the memories are just locked. They’re in a box, hidden away, she feels like it’s for her own sake. For her safety. For her sanity.) It’s almost a logical conclusion, being the only survivor out of a team of nine members. The doctor that evaluated her once she was taken into the HQ commented about how whoever healed her did a great job.

An almost flawless job… but there’s still scar tissue on basically all of her organs, somehow her bones have scars, and it’s a miracle that she’s not in constant pain.

Even without the memories, the psychological scars are there. The therapist frowns at her, when she tells him that it feels like her brain is trying to make her remember. He says she doesn’t remember what happened because her mind is trying to protect her – doesn’t make sense, she came back with a better health than the night she was sent to the warehouse with eight other members that didn’t make it, why she survived, why she sur-

Her mother always said she’s too much like her father. Her emotions turn into anger, her baseline emotion is rage. She doesn’t cry, she punches walls and yells at whoever doesn’t get the hint that she wants to rearrange someone’s face with her fists. (She’s always  her mother thinks she’s worse, actually, Caroline doesn’t need alcohol to be angry, to be dangerous.)

She feels… numb.

So numb, so empty, she misses the rage.

(She misses whatever she felt in that time. There are echoes of it. Something nicely warm lived on her ribcage, behind her heart, neatly nested between her lungs.

She misses it more than the never-ending inferno of her anger.)

“Do you still blame yourself?” Her therapist asks every other session.

“How am I supposed not to?”

He tells her again, again and that it’s not her fault. She didn’t lure the team here, she didn’t order them to investigate without any kind of guarantee that wasn’t a threat. They didn’t have a competent magician in a team of agents meant to take down the strongest, most powerful magical criminals.

It’s almost treason, isn’t it? The way he tells her it’s the higher ups fault, for sending agents to face the devil without holy water.

It’s the higher ups fault that she came so close to death that it feels like she came back without a soul. (I nearly died a hundred times, someone tells her, soft voice on her ear, warm hands on her back, soft presence in the dark, comforting her after what must have been a nightmare.

It feels wrong, and it feels write, to be hold this gently when she was supposed to be dead. I- sometimes I feel like I’m just a ghost, a dead thing in a meatsuit. Somehow, her confession feel like comfort. How I make it stop? Caroline asks. I don’t know. But you’re not alone.)

Caroline lays awake on her bed, staring up at ceiling like the vastiness on top of her will give her the answers she seeks. The dark makes her feel a little less empty, she thinks that maybe beyond life, there’s only cold darkness. And it wants her back, she’s outliving what she was giving, and is being punished for still being around.

She went there, died for minutes (for hours, for years, maybe she’s still dead), and was yanked back. Now the beyond wants her back, after letting go of a broken, wrong version of her. Warped core that maybe it can’t be fixed.

(She doesn’t like to think too much about the warm, foggy dark memories that makes her want to come back home.

But Caroline isn’t sure where, who home is.)

[smol-dargon]

*throws chapter 2 here and runs*

He didn't remember there being so many zombies wandering Gallowmere. Evidently Zarok had raised more than just him. The thought did cross his mind; how exactly was he out and about on his own free will when everything else seemed to be bent in Zarok's favor? He shook his head, decided it wasn't worth worrying about, and readied his blade and shield.

How exactly did Zarok plan to use zombies to take over the kingdom? They fell apart if he so much as swung in their direction. The only real threat came when several of them ganged up on him. He panicked, swung hard, and nearly launched his soul back out of his skull when his torso pivoted two full revolutions independently of the rest of him. That felt absolutely horrifying! But he did note with grim satisfaction that it had done the job nicely. He was now surrounded by dismantled corpses. And a singular hand, seemingly with a mind of its own, running frantically away from him on its nimble fingers.

He grumbled at the sight of not one, but two rune gates. Why so many? Was the king really that worried about corpses getting up and running off?

…..

He supposed it had been a wise and foresighted policy under the circumstances.

Two packs (herds? flocks?) of zombies later, he had both the rune gates open. He groaned at the realization that his only reward was more zombies. He didn't know what he expected. Perhaps he was simply hoping Gallowmere's cemetery wasn't so large. Now that he considered it, he recalled there being a mausoleum somewhere nearby. And more graveyard beyond.

This was going to be a long and painful quest for redemption.

--------------

He lost track of how many zombies he took out. He did get more accustomed to the disconcerting feeling of his ribcage pivoting freely with every swing, but it still made him slightly nauseous to think about too hard. It was good he'd decided to just keep his words to himself. They'd go unappreciated by the zombies, and it would serve as an all-too-painful reminder of his sudden speech impediment.

Around the bend, he caught sight of an angel statue. It seemed mounted to a pivot mechanism, an odd design choice, but that wasn't what really got his attention. On one side of the statue was a golden chalice, locked securely behind a gate. That was also unusual, but it still wasn't what got his attention.

Between the two of them stood a person. Not a zombie, like the rest of them. This was an actual, living, breathing human being. He could tell right away that they were a knight, just based on the massive axe and chain mail he wore. But that was all he could discern before the person charged him, axe raised high overhead.

Oh, right.

He was also a dead thing, wandering about when it shouldn't.

He instinctively raised his shield. The first blow came down so hard it splintered the flimsy copper thing in half and made his left arm go numb. He decided to go for Plan B. He threw himself hard to the left and rolled. He was a little taller than the knight, perhaps he could outrun the guy. This plan was short-lived. With another gate in his way, he couldn't do anything else now but lay down his sword and admit defeat.

"Cowardly little thing, aren't ya?"

"I know when I'm beat."

The knight took a few hurried steps back. If his expression in his visor was anything to go by, he was absolutely shocked by the revelation that this skeleton was intelligent, much less capable of speech. Well. He wasn't sure he considered it "speech", but… close enough, he supposed. The knight lowered his axe and regarded him cautiously.

"Well, then. Why're you back, then? The dead don't walk the earth for nothin'."

Not having a proper answer, he simply offered an exaggerated shrug. The knight set a hand on his hip and leaned in, as if evaluating whether he were telling the truth.

"I'm not inclined to kill things that don't need killin'. So why don't you prove you're not one of Zarok's minions, yeah? Open this gate so I can get at that chalice over there."

He didn't really like being given orders, but he was more than a little partial to not being split in half by a greataxe. So he stood and turned the angel statue to face the gate in question. It opened with a squeak and the knight simply stood a little straighter, as if annoyed that it had been that simple a solution. He decided to show the knight that there were no further traps and went to retrieve the chalice.

Almost immediately, the chalice overflowed with a reddish energy. It coalesced before them into a figure, which very quickly became a recognizable figure.

"Captain Fortesque! It's me, Canny Tim. Does the battle go well?"

He was greatly surprised and pleased to see the young marksman before him. He had missed the lad greatly. It really wasn't fair that he seemed to have died so young. The knight approached in awe.

"Canny Tim, is that really you? I heard you took out Lord Kardok at a thousand yards clean through the eye!"

He grimaced at the mention of such an injury. Unconsciously, he rubbed his dead eyesocket. The specter seemed completely undisturbed.

"Oh! Greetings, milady! You've been quite busy these last few years, haven't you?"

"Milady?"

The knight froze momentarily, startled that Canny Tim was so quick to catch on. After a moment, he removed his helm. A shock of thick, red hair cascaded down from his head… wait, scratch that, her head. This knight was a lady in shining armor!

"Damnit, Tim!"

"Oh! I apologize, I'd assumed you and Dan had already been introduced!"

She looked severely at him, poking an accusatory finger into his face.

"I won't have any of this "milady" nonsense! I'm a knight, same as you, hear me, Fortesque?"

He raised his hands in surrender. He'd fought alongside a woman before, long before Canny Tim was Canny Tim. This wasn't his first joust, so to speak. She turned back to Canny Tim, a look of mild annoyance on her face. For his part, Tim just chuckled nervously before holding out his crossbow for Dan to take.

"Take this, Captain! It's got rapid fire and you can ricochet the darts off walls to shoot around corners. I used it against Lord Kardok!"

He cut Tim off before he could go into detail, fixing him with a stern glare. Tim looked a bit unnerved.

"N-not that there's anything clever about shooting someone in the eye, sir."

"Watch it, you!"

Tim cringed, offered a half-hearted goodbye, and faded from sight, leaving his crossbow behind. The knight just sort of stared while Dan found a comfortable way to carry the new weapon. After a few tense moments of silence, she heaved a great sigh and offered her hand to shake.

"I suppose we're working together on this one, yeah?"

He did his best approximation of a grin and accepted the handshake. Her grip was much stronger than he was expecting and he cringed slightly at the sound of his carpals grating against each other. Mercifully, she let go quickly, perhaps a bit put off by his bony complexion. As one, the two of them strode off through the last section of the graveyard.

Many more zombies lay in their path, but they stood no chance against the combined might of the lady knight and the walking corpse. At the very end stood a gate, covered in the terrible magic residue of Zarok's necromantic aura. The gargoyle in the stonework came briefly to life.

"Tread softly. Zarok awaits beyond these Gates! The master meets with the Demon from the Mausoleum, hatching plots of purest evil. Forgotten nobodies and damsels in distress would be wise to make themselves scarce!"

The two exchanged a look, wordlessly agreed to dance on the grave of whoever gave these pathetic statues such sharp tongues, and prepared to face the next of their trials.

[ask-the-celestial-family]

PRESENT, PRESENT, PRESENT!!!

What is that? -Harvest Moon💕

This, my dear brother, is something I had my computer make when I got home last night. I had the Computer evaluate your injuries and use as much of my tech as possible to make something to counteract any pain that comes from your injuries. -Moon💙

What does it do? -Harvest Moon💕

Well, one of us helps you put this on and there’s a tiny needle in the back that can come out of its sanitizing casing, which can give pain medication if you hurt yourself twisting or moving. The ribcage and side supports will put pressure and keep you upright but will support you if you move around. I can’t make tech to help you move, but I can help you move what you can. -Moon💙

[pioneeroverc-my-5000th-sideblog]

FOUR MONTH ART IMPROVEMENT RATE COMPARISON - May 2023

art block: 2/19 (from 2/19)

personal: 19/19

study/figure drawing sessions: 12/129 days(from 32/105) check numbers on these

Same goals as yearly - absolutely not, I've really fallen off on these. Currently re-evaluating whether these are actually doable

Finish DAB Lesson 7 - no, but I did make good progress on it last month!

1 finished piece with 2pt+ perspective plotted background (or two sketched screenshot studies with same) - I assume this was supposed to be 'per month'… I did five things with actual perspective in the entire four month period but two of them were just sketches and most of them were very plain and undetailed. NO WONDER I'm not getting better at this lol

one screenshot study per month - can focus on any area (perspective, expressions, colours, composition, etc.) - I DIDN'T DO THIS AT ALL

In May, I will have even more mileage drawing hands interacting with things and have experimented with different ways of ideating on composition thumbnails - actually true!Definitely not anywhere near good at drawing hands yet but my 3D sense improving is helping me draw interactions. I tried a few ways of doing thumbnails but nothing has really stuck more than my painful 'just draw a bunch of stuff and try to fit it together afterwards' process. At least I tried

Studies done: FIGUARY, DAB stuff, breakdowns for some random objects I needed to draw, Proko ribcage and shoulder bones, lots of tracing (boot opening contours, heads to see how eyes fit in at 3/4 view, stylised hair/outfit trims to see how different artists do them), one fold study, some form intersections

Ups and downs here, with periods of Good Study interspersed with (more) periods of I Am Too Unmotivated To Do Anything. Whenever I am struggling to draw something, I end up just not drawing anything at all, even stuff that's unrelated and should be fun for me. This is something I really wish I could overcome because it ends up making me more stressed out overall when I have The Thing I've Been Putting Off and then all my other fun ideas AND STUDIES in the back of my head that also feel like they have deadlines on them. I'm still having trouble drawing stuff that isn't a character staring blankly off-screen with a solid colour background.

I started drawing a bunch of fake FEH alts during this period, and although I've really enjoyed designing them and getting to do more in-depth inking and rendering for once, I do feel like my time could be better spent drawing full pieces with backgrounds and, like, any thought for composition (since I'm hitting my skill ceiling with perspective and anatomy in particular for the alts - and the full pieces look 5000x more impressive). I still have a bunch of time-sensitive ideas for them, so I'm really not sure what to do here.

IMPROVEMENT METRICS

Anatomy/gesture: I am CERTAIN that my figure drawing improved because of Figuary but none of my actual finished stuff reflects that… I'm going to say same as last year just because I literally can't tell

Backgrounds/perspective: Much worse than last year lol

Composition/storytelling: Thinking about negative space more and still trying to add supporting elements. Worse than last year though

Colours/values: still having problems with stuff being too dark but also still working on it. Screencap studies could probably help this. Starting to get better at controlling saturation. Actually better than last year! Woo! Not a total failure!

Lighting/rendering: better than last year again, CAN I PLEASE TRADE THIS POWER FOR SOMETHING THAT'S ACTUALLY USEFUL??

PLAN OF ACTION FOR NEXT FOUR MONTHS:

Re-evaluate yearly goals

Finish DAB Lesson 7

one screenshot study per month, focussing on values first

two object studies per month

In September, I will have a better understanding of how the parts of the body fit together and be better at manipulating them, as simplified forms, in 3d space.

[shri-bone-joint-clinic]

Idiopathic Scoliosis Treatment in Chennai – Expert Care at Shri Bone & Joint Clinic

Idiopathic scoliosis is a spinal condition marked by an abnormal, side-to-side curvature of the spine that has no known cause. This form of scoliosis typically develops during adolescence and affects the spine in an “S” or “C” shape. The condition varies in severity, from minor curvatures that may not cause symptoms to severe curvatures that can result in noticeable physical deformities, discomfort, and complications in mobility and overall quality of life. For those in Chennai, Shri Bone & Joint Clinic offers comprehensive treatment for idiopathic scoliosis, combining advanced techniques with compassionate patient care.

Understanding Idiopathic Scoliosis

Idiopathic scoliosis is the most common type of scoliosis, affecting up to 3% of adolescents worldwide. The term “idiopathic” means the exact cause is unknown, though factors like genetics, hormonal changes, and irregular growth patterns in bones and muscles might contribute. Idiopathic scoliosis can affect individuals of any age, but it most commonly appears during adolescence, often between ages 10 and 18, as rapid growth spurts can exacerbate spinal curvature. Though it can impact both boys and girls, the progression of the curve requiring treatment is more common in girls.

Recognizing Symptoms of Idiopathic Scoliosis

Idiopathic scoliosis often goes unnoticed in its early stages because the curvature may be mild and painless. However, as the curve progresses, certain physical signs may become evident:

Uneven Shoulders – One shoulder may appear higher than the other.

Prominent Ribcage or Shoulder Blade – One side of the ribcage may protrude, or a shoulder blade may appear more pronounced.

Asymmetrical Waist and Hips – The waist or hips may look uneven, causing one leg to appear longer than the other.

Tilted Head Alignment – The head may not be aligned with the body.

If left untreated, idiopathic scoliosis can worsen over time, especially during growth spurts, and lead to chronic back pain, limited mobility, and respiratory issues in severe cases. Early detection and treatment are essential for managing the condition effectively.

Diagnosis and Assessment of Idiopathic Scoliosis at Shri Bone & Joint Clinic

At Shri Bone & Joint Clinic in Chennai, idiopathic scoliosis diagnosis begins with a thorough physical examination and patient history. Advanced diagnostic tools, including X-rays, MRI, and CT scans, help to assess the curvature’s severity, measured in degrees using the Cobb angle method. Curves less than 20 degrees are generally considered mild, while those between 20 and 40 degrees are moderate, and curves over 40 degrees are classified as severe.

Dr. Shriram Krishnamoorthy, a board-certified orthopedic surgeon at Shri Bone & Joint Clinic, evaluates each patient’s unique condition to create a personalized treatment plan. This patient-focused approach ensures that each treatment is tailored to the specific needs and goals of the individual.

Treatment Options for Idiopathic Scoliosis at Shri Bone & Joint Clinic

Idiopathic scoliosis treatment varies depending on the curvature’s severity, the patient’s age, and how likely the curve is to progress. Shri Bone & Joint Clinic offers both non-surgical and surgical treatment options, with an emphasis on minimally invasive methods that promote faster recovery and improved outcomes.

1. Observation and Monitoring

For patients with mild curves (less than 20 degrees), regular monitoring may be sufficient. Dr. Shriram Krishnamoorthy recommends observation to ensure that the curve does not worsen. Periodic X-rays and physical exams help to track changes in the spine as the child grows. If the curve remains stable, no additional intervention may be needed.

2. Bracing

Bracing is often prescribed for moderate scoliosis (20-40 degrees) in children and adolescents who are still growing. A custom-fitted brace can prevent the curve from worsening during the growth period, reducing the likelihood of surgery later. The brace is worn for a certain number of hours each day and is tailored to fit each patient comfortably. While bracing cannot correct an existing curve, it is effective at halting progression in many cases.

3. Physical Therapy

Physical therapy can complement other treatments, particularly in milder cases or as part of postoperative care. Therapists at Shri Bone & Joint Clinic focus on strengthening the muscles surrounding the spine, improving posture, and enhancing flexibility. Physical therapy can help alleviate discomfort and improve mobility, allowing patients to maintain a more active lifestyle.

4. Surgical Treatment – Spinal Fusion

For patients with severe scoliosis (curves over 40 degrees) or those whose curves continue to progress despite other treatments, spinal fusion surgery may be necessary. Dr. Shriram Krishnamoorthy performs spinal fusion surgery using minimally invasive techniques whenever possible. The procedure involves fusing the affected vertebrae to straighten the spine and prevent further curvature.

Using state-of-the-art equipment and modern surgical techniques, Dr. Krishnamoorthy ensures that each surgery is precise and effective, minimizing risks and promoting a smoother recovery. This procedure significantly improves posture and relieves discomfort, enabling patients to resume their daily activities with better quality of life.

Why Choose Shri Bone & Joint Clinic for Idiopathic Scoliosis Treatment?

Shri Bone & Joint Clinic in Chennai is recognized for its commitment to providing specialized scoliosis care. Here are a few reasons why patients trust the clinic for scoliosis treatment:

Experienced Specialist: Dr. Shriram Krishnamoorthy has extensive experience in treating scoliosis and spinal deformities, including idiopathic scoliosis. His expertise in spinal fusion and bracing techniques ensures comprehensive and effective treatment plans.

Advanced Diagnostic and Surgical Techniques: The clinic uses cutting-edge diagnostic and surgical equipment, allowing for accurate assessment and minimally invasive surgical options that promote faster recovery.

Patient-Centered Approach: Every patient at Shri Bone & Joint Clinic receives personalized care. From diagnosis to treatment and follow-up, the clinic’s team is dedicated to supporting patients throughout their journey.

Focus on Postoperative Care and Rehabilitation: Postoperative care is a key part of treatment at Shri Bone & Joint Clinic. Dr. Krishnamoorthy and his team work closely with each patient to provide comprehensive rehabilitation, helping them regain strength and mobility for improved long-term results.

Cost of Idiopathic Scoliosis Treatment in Chennai

The cost of idiopathic scoliosis treatment in Chennai can vary depending on the chosen treatment method. Non-surgical treatments, like bracing and physical therapy, typically range from ₹50,000 to ₹1,50,000. For surgical interventions such as spinal fusion, costs can range from ₹2,00,000 to ₹5,00,000. Shri Bone & Joint Clinic offers transparent pricing and flexible options to accommodate various needs.

Leading Scoliosis Care at Shri Bone & Joint Clinic

Shri Bone & Joint Clinic in Chennai is a trusted destination for idiopathic scoliosis treatment. With Dr. Shriram Krishnamoorthy’s expertise and the clinic’s commitment to quality care, patients can expect precise diagnosis, effective treatment, and compassionate support. Whether managing a mild curve with observation or undergoing spinal fusion for a more severe condition, Shri Bone & Joint Clinic offers hope and healing for those living with scoliosis.