#Stitch Crocs

[stitchcrocs]

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[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

Warnings for this oneshot: some blood/gore/horror elements, implied unethical experiments, brief description of a panic attack. The ----- line will mark the end of that scene. TWs will be tagged below.

(Also I stole some fake swear words from Star Wars because they still roll off the tongue well)

"Awww crap. No no no no-"

Jak looked away from the arguing Samoses to see Daxter peering up at the next level of the prison. The one he'd been trying not to think about.

"What?"

Daxter looked back at him with a terrible expression. "...Praxis doesn't have the kid, right? He'd be bragging all over the city about it if he had the kid."

Jak swallowed, but it felt like there was a rock in his throat. "He'd never shut up about it if he'd hurt Mar."

His own voice was shaky a Daxter's fear spread to him.

Not the kid, not Mar, please please, anything but that-!

"Then he got somebody else's kid. Or something else's kid." Daxter climbed up to the pipes between floors and pointed to a sickly glow. "And uh...it didn't like the guards much."

Jak was through the hole in seconds, even as every cell in his body told him that he didn't want to look. Didn't want to know what couldn't be unknown. He gagged as the stench of blood and meat hit him like a wall. This...this wasn't the sweaty antiseptic smell of the Chair.

Two dead KG lay crumpled on the floor, barely recognizable as human beneath the clotted gore obscuring what little remained of their faces. Deep furrows had been clawed into the skin, deep enough to expose bone. The stench of offal did not quite cover the acid pulse of dark eco. Jak could guess what kind of being had inflicted these wounds.

Had Praxis continued the experiment after he'd escaped? Had he finally been successful?

Jak’s stomach lurched as he recognized a third body -- or the uniform and rank insignia hanging in tatters, at least -- slumped against an open tank of some kind. Ignoring the whispered shouts of Samos down below, Jak gingerly stepped over the corpses to examine the tank.

Subject 0401-B its label read, 304 days gestation.

Bile burned in Jak’s throat.

0401 was the number they'd applied to him in the DWP. What was 0401-B? What had they started growing ten months ago?

Wet, smacking noises drew his eyes unwillingly to the dark space beneath an examination table. A trail of dark blood painted a streak all the way to...something's...hiding place. In and out of the mess, tiny footprints peppered the floor. They were no bigger than the Kid's.

Jak coughed and gagged, desperately holding back what little was in his stomach. He didn't want to look, but he did.

Something was hunched over beneath the table, covered in the leathery scales of a metalhead. A long, spiked tail twitched restlessly as shark-black eyes stared back at Jak emotionlessly. The figure had the proportions of a small child, almost like Mar -- thick, stubby limbs, a large head with soft, round cheeks -- but there the similarities ended. Ghost-white hide peeked out beneath cracked and flaking red-brown stains that covered the majority of 0401-B's face and torso. It cocked its head like a little bird, examining Jak, and slit nostrils flared.

"Oh my gods," Jak heard himself whisper, as if from miles away. "No no no no-"

The thing made an ungainly hop towards Jak, coming further into the light. A mane of pale gray hair, matted and tangled, fell across a narrow back, and an all too familiar pair of tiny black horns rose from the thing's head.

It was Dark Jak. It was a monster. A demon.

It was a child.

"What the hell?" Daxter croaked, skittering back towards the hole they'd come up from.

"Hell" was putting it mildly.

The dark eco creature's long ears twitched -- notched ears, Jak’s ears -- and it chirped. Carelessly, it dropped the half eaten head of what had once been Commander Errol and took a tentative step into the light.

It was -- he was -- naked, digitigrade. A hybrid of a human and a Centurion metalhead. In place of a skull gem, his horns pulsed with whatever eco he'd consumed from his prey.

Jak felt lightheaded.

"Prrp?"

The little monster dropped to a crouch, and hopped closer, balanced on tiptoe and fat clawed fingers. He sniffed at Jak, and a disturbingly innocent smile spread across his face.

There were a lot of fangs in that smile.

"What do we do?"

Daxter's voice echoed strangely.

"What do we- ohboy. Jak? Jak, stay with me. Don't look at the evil baby. Look at me. Look at me, pal."

Too late.

"I ca- I can't," Jak gasped, "I can't breathe-"

He curled into a protective ball as dark eco rushed to fill his skin like a protective layer, broadening his shoulders with the crack of joints. It didn't completely cancel the pain of growing a foot taller and a pair of horns in the span of three seconds, but it mitigated it somewhat. Now as pale as the...the not-Jak, he huddled with his hands over his ears. Block out the noise. Block out the lights. Focus on something small. Breathe, breathe, breathe-

"Urr?"

The creature looked different through Dark Jak’s eyes. He would have expected it -- him -- to register as a threat the way other metalheads did. To activate his hunting instincts. But the experiment just felt...familiar. Like someone he'd seen before but didn't really know. He also was very clearly not a threat. Not to Jak.

The child reached up with bloodied hands, instinct driving him to seek comfort. Trembling violently, Dark Jak lowered his arms and let the child use them to climb up to his chest and settle there. Blank-faced and hollow-eyed, he was motionless.

What had Praxis done?

What had he done?!

"Oh kriff, is that Errol?"

Daxter began to retch as he lifted a paw to avoid stepping on...well, he couldn't readily identify the body part anymore, but it certainly wasn't attached to its owner.

"Or...was, I guess."

He didn't feel too badly about vomiting on it.

______________________________________

"Jak? What's happening up there? We have to go! Now! What did you-"

Tess shrieked and jumped back when Jak dropped through the ceiling with something covered in blood in his arms. He was pale, pupils larger than they should've been. Tess knew that meant something up there had made him transform. And it probably had to do with the thing squirming in his arms.

"What is that?!"

"It's a kid."

Jak tucked the scarf closer around the child, hoping against hope no one would notice the tail -- the dead giveaway that the poor thing was part metalhead. "Praxis...he t- he tried to make another Dark Warrior. We have to get him out of here."

His voice was flat. Almost expressionless. There was a lot going on behind those eyes.

"And the guards?" Tess asked, eyeing the gap in the ceiling.

It was Daxter who answered in Jak’s stead, in a colder voice than any of them had ever heard.

"Errol will never hurt my pal again. He'll never hurt anyone again."

Ohhh. Oh that was going to shake up the Baron’s plans. Errol was both his meanest guard dog and his designated racing champion to keep the nobles pacified. Without the useless nobleman scion, he'd already lost control of the races. The Krimzon Guard would break down in organization too. Or at least, they would if Tess had anything to say about it.

"Good," she breathed, "Good. Thank the Precursors. Did he- did he hurt the- the baby?"

A tiny spark of life kindled in Jak’s eyes.

"It didn't end well for him," he rasped, and fell silent again.

Samos the Elder tiptoed to look at the toddler's face, then immediately began to howl about dark eco contamination. Samos the Younger simply looked uncomfortable with the presence of a child. Neither of them were going to be of any use in a crisis, clearly.

Tess sprang into action.

"Okay! Here's what we're going to do! Daxter, get Jak and this poor baby to Safehouse 8. I'll take these two back to HQ and deal with Torn. Check the kid for injuries, and we'll figure out what to do from there. Okay? Okay. Let's move, people."

Daxter sighed dreamily as he climbed up onto Jak’s shoulder. "Gods, I love a woman who takes charge in a crisis," he cooed.

It was almost enough to distract him from the extreme amount of blood covering the too-small kid with Jak's ears.

Nobody wanted to think about how he'd come to be.

If Jak was more violent than usual on the way out of the prison, Daxter didn't point it out. All he did was stay out of the way when Dark Jak came out to get hands-on with the idiot guarding their exit. The monster kid got very excited when Jak transformed the second time, chirping and squealing like a possessed bird.

When they'd broken out once more, pelting through the streets in pouring rain, they didn't stop to think. Jak knew if he pondered this little...person's...existence beyond cursory knowledge, it would shatter the pieces of himself he'd managed to put back together so far. So he just wouldn't think about it.

It was a kid. Errol hurt it. It killed Errol. End of story.

"Hang on kid. We're out of here."

A glance down revealed the beginnings of a far less sinister face as the rain finally began to break through the blood caked on the child’s skin. He blinked up at Jak with wide eyes.

"It's- it's not your fault. Okay? No matter- whatever people say, it isn't your fault," Jak croaked as they ran. "You didn't choose this. You're just a kid. It's not your fault."

He wasn't sure if he was talking to the kid, or to himself.

___[Three Hours Later, in the safe house]___

"Eep?"

"Wha- no! No, you can't eat that!"

Jak dropped his gun and dove for the kid, snatching a Scattergun cartridge from his chubby fingers.

The child looked at him with complete betrayal, opened his wide little mouth, and began to scream.

The boys looked at each other in panic. Someone was bound to hear that racket.

"Just let him have it!" Daxter yelped, covering his ears, "Metalheads eat eco, don't they?!"

"I don't know how much of him is metalhead!" Jak argued, "I don't want him to get hurt- Ow!"

The demon baby had decided to lodge a complaint with management in the form of locking his jaws around Jak’s forearm. He couldn’t penetrate the gauntlet fully, but there would definitely be bruises.

Without stopping to think, Jak grabbed the tot's cheeks and squeezed.

"Getoff!"

The demon baby growled at him.

"Let go, you little croc!" Jak increased the pressure. "Knock it off, or I'll bite you! See how you like it!'

He had absolutely no idea if the kid could understand a word he said. He certainly didn't act like he was listening.

So he shrugged and bit the kid's finger.

It wasn't hard. It didn't even dent the skin! But the kid yowled and fell back like he'd been struck a mortal blow. He wailed, holding up the afflicted finger to Jak.

"Well that's what happens," Jak scoffed. "You bite me, I'll bite you right back. Don't like it? Keep your teeth to yourself!"

The toddler sniffled, and in spite of himself, Jak softened. He groaned and gingerly lifted the kid under the armpits to set him on the cot beside him.

"Look. Just don't do it again, okay, Croc?"

"Ah," said the hybrid solemnly. The gurgling sound almost mimicked speech, as if he were copying Jak.

"Huh. You're kind of cold. Are you supposed to be that temperature?" Jak frowned.

He had absolutely no idea what counted as "normal" for something that had probably never existed before. Mar was always a little space heater-

Jak stubbornly buried thoughts of the kid deep in his mind. Not now. He needed to focus, and be able to keep his mind in the fight. He could let the "what-ifs" paralyze him later.

"Uh...here. I guess we should give you something to wear," Jak finally decided, "You are pretty naked. You...probably don't know what that means, though."

Daxter grimaced and slowly took his fingers out of his ears. "I am not babyproofing this safe house without coffee and financial compensation," he announced, "But if you can keep the little chomper busy for a couple minutes, I can see what passes for the sacred bean juice around here."

In the five minutes it took Daxter to brew some burnt, dark roast sludge, Jak had come up with a solution for the toddler's temperature.

It was not the solution Daxter had hoped for.

"No. Absolutely not. We have to find some clothes for him."

Daxter slammed a fist into his palm the second he put the foam coffee cups down. "One involuntary nudist in this family is bad enough! And he doesn't have strategic fur like I do!"

"What's wrong with what he's wearing?" Jak groused.

Daxter stared at him until his left eye began to twitch.

"What's wrong with-? HE'S WEARING A PILLOWCASE!"

The newly named Croc paused in his endless game of trying to catch his own tail to chirp questioningly. His limbs stuck haphazardly out of the pillowcase Jak had cut holes in, but it was more than he'd worn in the lab.

Daxter dropped his face into his palm. "Do you think that little menace is potty-trained? Do you? Because I can almost guarantee he is not!"

That hadn't occurred to Jak. He cringed and glanced at the hybrid. "Uh...how...do you potty-train a kid? Mar already knows how to go by himself, I think. But he's not. Like. A baby...thing."

Daxter huffed and began digging through drawers. "Short answer? You don't. Not in the middle of a war you don't. We're gonna need diapers. So many diapers. Do they make diapers with tail holes? Probably not. Oh- and wipes. I don't know if scaly butts get rashes but I don't wanna find out."

Jak groaned. "I don't know how to take care of a kid this little! We are kids!"

"Well do you wanna leave him with the Underground after their stellar show of babysitting skills thus far?" asked Daxter sarcastically.

"Kriff no!" Jak spat. He dragged grimy fingers down his cheeks and growled in frustration. "Can't ask Sig, he'd probably think the kid was a metalhead and try to hunt him or something."

"Eep! Ooooo!" Croc gathered himself, tail lashing, then made a leap for the bed.

He hit the edge and bounced off with an indignant squeak.

"Well," Jak said after examining him for a second, "He's durable, at least."

Far less angsty Croc Shenanigans to follow later this afternoon

[ghostspiel]

i need to post this before i start hating it

[thebratprincexo]

This is Stitches. His previous line of work had a dire effect on his wellbeing, and now he works in the Ministry morgue harvesting parts and suffering from eldritch visions. He likes to talk to the corpses, and occasionally, they talk back. He doesn't mind until they start reciting ancient eldritch chants; that means a crawl under his desk and spiral break.

quick lore summary; hired to find things from Before God in the pit and found the Necronomicon, resulting in a lot of brain breakage. Got the item back to fence, promptly died from the stress, was examined thoroughly, and came back by eldritch means, then went through rehabilitation before coming topside with the fence.

He sees things, a lot of not nice things, and is a grumpy, stand offish creature on the best of days. Nightmares are constant companions, and he often causes harm to himself while fighting off horrors in them.

Idk his element(s) yet

[eloiscs]

♡ maven ha dicho: ¿y si compramos esto a juego?

𖥻 ZONA COMERCIAL.

‘  no te veía como alguien que usaba crocs, pero va  ’  saca del perchero un par de crocs de su talla con motivos de stitch.  ‘  ¿será que nos dejan ir a trabajar con esas? yo digo que sí  ’  asiente varias veces sosteniendo el calzado en el aire, no sabe si maven se refería a eso para comprar a par pero le venía bien algo para trabajar. 

[sunnixsunshine]

Bit of a Stitches gijinka redesign uwu i just love he so much,,,,

[mariacallous]

*AND* I swapped purses and transferred everything and got it set up so I wouldn't take the old one or forget the new one by mistake.

[stitchcrocs]

It’s time to step into spring with our Bee and Flower 9 Pairs of Crocs! With a variety of colors and patterns, you’ll be sure to find the perfect pair for your shoe collection. Our Crocs are made with Croslite foam cushioning, making them lightweight and comfortable for all-day wear. Plus, they are easy to clean and feature a signature ventilation system to help keep your feet cool and dry. Whether you’re looking for a classic style or something a bit more adventurous, our Bee and Flower 9 Pairs of Crocs will have you covered. With so many options to choose from, you’ll be sure to find the perfect pair for your wardrobe. Shop now and step into spring with our Bee and Flower 9 Pairs of Crocs!

[draconicace]

over 50 tries for this

[mikyapixie]

🩵HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!💙

I've had THE best 26 birthday EVER!!! I went to my seafood favorite restaurants A.K.A Corky Bells a true hidden gem had the best food & time with my family!!!Sang Happy Birthday surrounded by Studio Ghibli & 70s themed birthday decorations!!! Had a beautiful eletric blue unicorn cake filled with sprinkles!!! I received super cute Disney pens from my mom courtesy of CarolinaGirlzFizz💎!!! I A super cool Scooby Doo tapestry!!! I even received Hello Kitty Crocs!!! Truly an amazing birthday!!!

[fleyerthanmost]

House croc’s… and yes that’s a unicorn

[strangestructures]

I bought some off-brand crocs and it’s all @creekfiend​‘s fault! And yes, you were right, they are very comfortable and practical. But also, they came here with some, er, thingies, that can be attached to the holes.

And now my crocs are the cutest:

[incorrectbatfam]

May I have more gen alpha Damian but as Robin? This little boy is a menace to the rouges ... I love this idea 💖💖💖💖💖

Riddler: Riddle me this.

Damian: *starts recording on his smart watch*

Riddler: The first two letters signify a male, the first three letters signify a female, the first four letters signify a great man, while the entire word signifies a great woman. What is the word?

Damian's watch: Heroine.

———————

Joker: You see, little birdie, it all started with One Bad Day—

Damian: *plays the world's smallest violin*

———————

Freeze: With the press of a button, I will ice over the entire Gotham Harbor!

Damian: Cringe.

———————

Hatter: *posts a TikTok monologue threatening the batfam*

Damian: *stitches himself yawning and falling asleep*

———————

Croc: *roars*

Damian: *pulls out the All-Blades*

Croc: ?

Damian: My brother got the DLC.

———————

Harley: *launches her confetti cannon*

*single piece of confetti falls out*

Damian, clapping: Go girl give us nothing.

———————

Clayface: *attacks Damian*

Damian: *rips out a chunk of clay*

Damian: *starts playing with it like slime*

———————

Scarecrow: I've got you now.

Damian: Imagine being a grown man beefing with a middle schooler. Couldn't be me.

———————

Ivy: *ties him up with her plants*

Damian, a vegan: *chomp*

———————

Damian: What are your pronouns so I can eviscerate you properly?

Two-Face: ...

Two-Face: He/they.

———————

Ra's: It's just you and me, my disgraced heir. Let's finish this duel once and for all.

Damian: *taps his phone*

Jon: *flies in and pummels Ra's*

Jon: Thank you for ordering from SüberDefeats! Be sure to share your feedback.

Damian: *tips Jon and leaves five stars*

[indulgentdaydream]

i LIVE for the nurse!reader work!!! i was wondering if you could do more nurse!reader where jason gets badly injured during patrol and she has to like stitch him up

OR

one where shes training as a family doctor and jason walks in on her comforting a little kid while she gives him an injection/shot?

either one is fine!

btw...YOUR WRITING IS SO COMFORTING

omg thank you!! I'm so happy my writing brings comfort to people. I usually use writing as a way to bring comfort to myself 😂

This can be read as both a stand alone and a sequel to Meet Cutes, my original Nurse!Reader work! It's not necessary to read Meet Cutes to read this

Comfort

Jason Todd x Nurse!Reader || Fluff Word Count: 2,014 Warnings: Blood, stitches, concussion, brief nod to Jason’s death by the mentioned date (April 27th)

2/6 fic of the line up! there was no way in hell i was getting them all out by his birthday I have no idea what I was on when I said that (pain killers. it was pain killers) (prescribed pain killers)

It was an unbearably hot night in Gotham. One that had Jason shucking his thick leather jacket off and fisting it in his hand as he stumbled through the alleyways.

Stupid Killer Croc. Stupid sewers. Stupid heat for making the sewers smell even worse. Stupid him for letting that oversized lizard get the jump on him.

Jason enters the clinic through the back door, as per usual. He didn’t need you getting caught up in vigilante problems just because people had seen him coming and going from this place.

The bright lights of the clinic have him flinching, his head pounding inside his helmet casing. He closes the door behind him by leaning against it. He hisses, pressing the fabric of his jacket to the bloody gash on his left shoulder blade. His armour had cracked off in a jagged line, leaving the flesh exposed. Killer Croc had used it as a nice place to sink one of his claws in when he picked Jason up off the disgusting sewer floor. It wasn’t bad. Fairly deep, but, as he usually told you, he’s had worse.

Usually, with injuries as simple as this, Jason would go to his nearest safe house and tend to it all himself. But, with this particular wound, he couldn’t reach around without his shoulder screaming in pain, nor without potentially giving himself the shittiest stitches known to man.

Best he could do for now is clamp his jacket to it with his right hand. Second best thing he could do was trip and stumble his way through Gotham, making wrong turns and headed in five different directions before he had picked the right one.

His head was stuffed with cotton. Maybe sewage. He wanted his helmet off, too suffocating for him in the moment, but he didn’t have his domino mask on.

Jason knew you were always the last one working. You would come in a few hours later than your other coworkers, just so you could keep the clinic open just that much longer for the unwilling victims of Gotham's nightly activities.

He wasn’t a part of those victims. Jason was one of the willing ones.

All in all, he admired you for your effort. A small star in a smog filled night sky. Brighter than what people realized.

Jason stepped towards your office door. It was open giving him a solid directory. His steel toes felt heavy on his feet. That’s what he’s blaming for the fact that he tripped over his own feet, his head swimming.

Jason fell against the door frame. His left shoulder hit the edge, pulling a deep groan of pain from him. He bumped into the door, sending it flying into the wall. He finally regained his balance, still leaning his head on the frame.

He faintly registered your gasp of surprise.

“Hood!" you cried, jumping up from your office chair, stepping closer, "What happened? What's wrong?"

Jason hated the way he gravitated towards you. He leaned into your touch when you grabbed a hold of his arm to steady him, to move him closer into the room.

This is weakness. He thought briefly through the thick fog surrounding him. Relying on some nurse. He should've never let himself get close to you. You don't even know his name. Or what his face looks like. But having you run to his aid with such a worried expression on your face is far too close to have you.

"Lay down. On your stomach."

Jason blinked. Your voice brought him back to the present, his head still spinning. He was sitting on the cot, pushed up against the wall. His jacket was hanging off the back of your office chair, bloody. The shoulder of his shirt cut off by your scissors, revealing part of his chest and back, too.

He doesn't remember any of that. Maybe he is in worse shape than he thought.

"Hood. Lay your ass down."

Jason followed your orders, "You have such graceful bedside manner, Nurse."

You scoff, already slipping your gloves on and dissinfecting yourself, ready to work.

You applied the stinging disinfectant to Jason's skin, making him suck in a sharp breath. The noise sounded odd, yet still recognizable through his voice modulator, "More like Nurse Ratched."

You pout, confused, "Who?"

Jason sighs, feeling his cheeks burn a little, "Nevermind..."

Your silent for a while, continuously threading the needle through Jason's skin as you pull it together.

"So..." you drawl out. "You gonna tell me how this happened?"

Jason was silent for another moment, "Mmmm... would if I could focus right now, sweetheart."

You paused on the last stitch, "Hm?"

He shifted his head lightly, peering at you through the corner of his vision, "What?"

You let out a breathy laugh, "I'm guessing you hit your head, too?"

Jason let out another robotic hum, "Got thrown into a wall."

"Did you now?" You step back from him, finished your work.

Jason nodded, "Lizard."

Stifling another laugh you started to clean up your tools, "You got thrown into the wall by... by a lizard?"

Jason didn't move, his speech a little slurred, "Fuckin' overgrown murder lizard..."

“Murder Lizard?”

He briefly waved a hand in dismissal, “Whatever his name is.”

“…Killer Croc?”

“…yeah. Him.”

You tapped his gloved hand, "Can you sit up and answer some more questions for me, Hood?"

Jason groaned as he pushed himself back up, moving slow. Once he was up, his head began to pound all over again. He reached up, pressed the release button under his jaw. A small hissing sound of the releasing pressure sounded.

He saw you stiffen, your eyes a little wide in shock, "What are you doing?"

“'s fine. I trust ya," He lifted the red helmet off until you were able to see his whole face. He remembered that not even a domino mask was hiding his eyes in the moment "'sides. It's too tight f'r me right now."

Jason believed he was a sight to see. All scars, disheveled hair, the yellowing bruise along the right side of hjs jaw from a few weeks ago, his crooked teeth and his crooked nose. Your eyes were wide, taking him in. He couldn't tell if it was in fear, shock, or awe. He was so much better at reading people, usually.

“I know,” a small smirk tugged at his lips, the right side of it staying lower due to the pain of his bruise, “Much more of an ugly mug then you were expecting, eh sweetheart?"

He saw you narrow your eyes. You didn’t like that comment. He could tell. What did he say? Nothing but his own truth.

…did I just fucking call you ‘sweetheart’?

A beam of light entered his vision.

He cringed back, "Ugh!"

You held up your small flashlight, switching it between Jason's eyes, "When were you born?"

Jason blinked rapidly, rubbing at his eyes now that you had pulled away the light. “April 27th,” he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. Fuck. That’s not it.”

You opened your drawer again and put the flashlight away, “You have a concussion.”

"No shit," His head was pounding to the point he could hear it in his ears.

"I'll let you go on two conditions."

Jason kept his eyes on you. He enjoyed the sight of your face much better than that agonizing light.

“First. Promise to rest up,” you gave him a pointed look.

Jason shrugged. He’d try.

“Promise.”

He groaned, “Fine. I promise.”

You looked pleased with yourself. He tried to push away the want to put that look on your face all the time.

“Second. Call somebody you know and trust to drive you home.”

He looked away from you. There was no one he trusted with that info. His safe house or this clinic. Or you.

“Fine,” you rolled away in your chair and pulled out a pen and paper. “Go get changed into some civilian clothes and I’ll call you a taxi.”

“You’re not payin’ for that,” Jason said quickly. His head hung low as his head pounded to the beat of his heart.

“That’s fine,” you pulled a roll of gauze from your drawer and stepped closer to him. “Do you have any Alieve or Tylenol at home?”

He barked out a laugh that ricocheted through his skull, “With how much I’m in here? Who do you think I am?”

You gave him a deadpan look. You began wrapping his shoulder and his stitches.

He gave a small smirk. He liked looking at your face. A nice sight for his sore eyes.

He blinked again. You were very close to him. His heart picked up in time with the throbbing of his skull.

He looked away, scowling.

Weakness.

“If I give you anything, I have to write down who I’m giving it to. It’s policy, I’ll need a name. Do you have alieve or tylenol at home Red?”

Jason let out a hum. He leaned forward pinched his nose bridge in thought again. Everything was fuzzy, “Maybe?”

“What name am I writing then?”

He didn’t even think to hesitate. He registered how that was a bad thing, but his concussion was stopping him from thinking properly. “Jason Todd.”

You let out a laugh right next to his ear.

He flinched, wincing at the sound, “What?”

“That’s the fakest name I’ve ever heard.”

It took him a second to register what you meant. That was his name. You were one of the few he had actually introduced himself to as himself in a while, and you didn’t believe it was his name.

You finished wrapping his bandages and stepped away. He found himself missing the warmth. “Mhmm. What address are you gonna give me now? 1234 Main Street?”

He scowled a little more than he already was. He felt his ears burn, “567 Main Street North.” It was one of his safe houses he was getting rid of soon. A place no one would find him by the end of the week.

You laughed again. It grated on his ears, but he was sure it’d be music without this concussion.

The rest of his visit was a bit of a blur. You told him to go change into civilian clothes. He remembers telling you it was fine, that he didn’t mind having the Red Hood be seen taking a taxi. You reminded him his shirt was half torn off. He put his armour back on and zipped up his jacket over top. You were calling a taxi by the time he had gotten his helmet back on.

The entire time he was trying to guess what your laugh sounded like normally. Surely he’s heard it before? Why couldn’t he remember?

Right. The concussion.

Red Hood was stepping out the door of your office when you called after him.

“Stay safe.”

He let out a small laugh, looking back over his shoulder at you, “Never do, sweetheart.”

You laughed too and he felt his ears burn again. He needed to shut up and stop letting that slip.

“That’s the third time you’ve called me that.” You crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair. “You must really be out of it.”

Jason frowned behind his helmet. He doesn’t remember three times.

…okay maybe two. But not three.

You gave a knowing smile, ignoring it, “You just have to make sure I always have my work cut out for me, don’t you?”

Jason smiled behind the helmet, “I like seeing you.”

He wanted to bash his head against that brick wall again. Especially when your grin got a little wider and his face got a little hotter.

“‘Kay, bye.” He walked out before you could respond.

Jason never did wait for the taxi. He left through the back door like always and made his trek back to the closest safe house. He clutched the box of tylenol he had stuffed in his pocket, feeling the tug of his stitches when he found his bike and revved the engine before peeling away into the night.

[duckmorganduck]

PODTOBERR

i couldn't decide between doing the treadmill for first meeting or the stitches so i DID BOTH HUZZAH‼️

total loser moment but it felt weird not to draw sherlock in pink crocs for once

also what a fantastic first impression absolutely insane

AND of course victorian as well. it looks um. not radical but we can look past that. GOD drawing suits brings me back to my cuphead era im illll

BONUS DOODLES GOODNIIGHTTT💙

okay guy on treadmill isn't a doodle he's just incredible at being on a treadmill

[skylersprompts]

DC x DP Prompt *34*

Last night's patrol had been rough. Killer Croc got the jump on Tim, who won, but not without injuries. His son had a twisted ankle, bruised ribs and a wound on his back that needed stitches.

All of this meant that Bruce needed to find an excuse for Danny, who would be very confused why his brother was so hurt, when he was supposed to be sleeping at night.

Bruce stood up and made his way to Tim's room to make sure that the boy was still sleeping. To Bruce's surprise he not only found Tim, but also Danny in the bed. Both boys were deeply asleep. Danny's hand clasped Tim's wrist, his fingertips rested on the pulse point of his brother.

Unsure what that exactly meant, Bruce left. He would need to watch the development of this closely, to find out what was going on. If something was going on.

.

.

.

Dick got doused in fear gas. Danny sneaked into his room at night. His fingers are against the pulse of his oldest brother. Bruce closed the door, a light smile on his lips.

.

Stephanie got hurt in a fight against Freeze and stayed at the manor. Danny sat slumped on the floor of her room. His fingers securely against her wrist.

.

Damian got into a fight with Ivy and was still recovering from her pollen. Dick was sleeping and cuddling with his youngest brother. But someone else had cuddled close to the youngest bird. Danny was holding Damian's wrist close to his own chest.

.

Bruce was laying in bed with a broken arm after a run in with Bane. He wasn't surprised to hear his door open, or the smaller body that was crawling under his blanket. Danny's cold finger pressed against his wrist, until they found his pulse. The boy relaxed with a shuddering exhale. He pretended a little longer to be asleep, but before he could do anything else sleep pulled him under.

.

Duke ran into the Riddler. While he did solve the puzzle, he couldn't escape uninjured. He cracked a few ribs and wasn't able to hide his limp. When Duke was going to bed, Danny followed him to his room and slept beside the daytime vigilante.

.

Cass had a tough fight tonight. The court of owls was active again and while she was a skilled fighter, even she wasn't able to stay uninjured with too many enemies at once. She had a black eye and her wrist had a sprain. When Danny tried to sneak into her room, she looked at him and held her uninjured wrist in his direction. They both snuggled into her bed.

.

Alfred had an accident, while doing housework. He fell a few steps down the stairs with a laundry basket in hand. Luckily he only twisted his ankle. But when the old man woke up in the early hours of the morning, he found a black haired boy sleeping in a sitting position beside his bed. His fingers tightly around his wrist.

.

Jason had been shot. And while he tries to argue about being able to drive himself to his safe house, Alfred's disapproving gaze was enough to let him falter. But he stayed in the med Bay. When Bruce came to check on his second eldest, he found a smaller blackhead wrapped around him, his fingers pressed to the pulse point on his neck.