#Stitch Crocs

[stitchcrocs]

Are you a nurse looking for a comfortable pair of shoes to wear at work? Look no further than 20 Perfect Nurse Crocs! With a wide variety of sizes, colors, and styles, you can find the perfect pair of Crocs for your workday. Not only are they comfortable, but they also provide excellent grip and support for your feet. Plus, they’re easy to clean and maintain. With 20 Perfect Nurse Crocs, you’ll feel the comfort and support you need to get through your shift. Shop now and get your perfect pair of Crocs today!

[pokecology]

Finished! Took some long breaks with this one.

[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,,,,

[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!!!

[for-those-who-wait]

I saw somewhere that playing dress up with your OCs is good for you and well. He's not an OC but it does make my brain happy. Ramblings and explanations below the cut

Featuring: 1. Non-canon sweater with semi-canon watermelon pants, and also glasses because HC that Hunter is blind as hell but only wears them at home. Also Flapjack-colored socks! 2. Canon sweater with non-canon pants. It's his outdoor version of the first one, and I also HC that this sweater was so old and frayed that he would eventually need to fix it up into the first one. 3. This one is inspired by the haircut scene and features a slap bracelet he conned off (asked very nicely to borrow from) Luz. They're colored based on the bi flag and are used to cover his Emperor's Coven sigil. 4. Swimwear. Calaiti helped me pick out the swim trunks pattern, and I decided bananas would be fun since they go with his watermelon pants. We both thought he would definitely wear a swimshirt. Another bi-themed slap bracelet 5. Admittedly an outfit from my own closet: cargo pants, crocs, and a high-necked hoodless windbreaker. I think he would be a socks with crocs kind of guy. Way too many pockets 6. Calaiti suggested a gardening outfit for when he would help out Willow and as such behold, it's one of his most worked-on projects. He has little birds on his pockets, and he repaired the front pocket and the knee. The plant embroidery was already there 7. Red hoodie with a bird emblem that he stitched on himself and glasses because he's blind. Also just boxers because that's very gender of him and he's very rarely barefoot if he can help it. I imagine this would be when he has the house or at least the basement to himself. 8. Channeling my love for transfem (and gnc) Hunter, probably the first piece of clothing he's cut and sewn from scratch. On his wrists can either be sweatbands or bracelets, but they're colored like the bi flag. Instead of him stealing them from Luz, Luz actually got them specifically for him to have. 9. The glasses make another appearance, his shirt is probably some knock-off Cosmic Frontier or NASA merch. I do think he'd like NASA! Also I think that if he has a silly bright yellow sweater, he would definitely have a pair of silly bright yellow pants. (I also think everyone would have to desperately beg him to please please please not wear both yellow things at the same time.) Another bi-themed slap bracelet 10. HC that the residents of the Boiling Isles have naturally evolved to expel a lot of internal heat to keep from getting overheated, and thus everyone is freezing cold and Hunter wears three layers without even breaking a sweat. Button-up shirt is the same as in 3. 11. Halloween costume! 12. Wolf shirt! Also glasses again

[emacrow]

The villains had been 'mildly' concerned about their fellow villain, scarecrow by emacrow/creator

He haven't been to the annual monthly meeting in 6 months after his quiet muttering that how he beat The Mistress of Fear plotting by destroying her psychology.

Only for him to stumbled a bit in the door with a heavy limp, a marriage ring that was a gem bejeweled carved in the shape of pumpkin head on his ring finger, his scarecrow pants inside out, his jacket was missing, revealing several black and orange lipsticks marks and hickies on his shoulder, his sack mask has a new decoration of a childish scribble doodles of a ghost and a stitches of a carved pumpkin with glowing emerald eyes that was the Mistress of Fear symbols on the backside with his curly hair longer then it usually was, sneaky a bit out under the sack.

He look like someone who got their soul devoured in one go during a one night stand,

He ignored the obvious stares and snickering of each and every one of the guys watching him sit in his personal seat.

"So did you found what Mistress of Fear plotted against you, Scarecrow?" Harley was the speak first, a chuckle on how Scarecrow glared sent her way, fixing his mask.

"Oh, I think he found it alright." Penguin snickered.

"Fuck, now I owe Cat lady 1000 bucks."

"S-shut up! Scarecrow growled back if he wasn't struggling with his legs so much being weak in the knees.

"I still don't believe that The Mistress of Fear married this guy when she as tall as Killer croc and he like-." Riddler emphasize the height between Mistress and Scarecrow.

"He survived the other dozen times he fought her. Hell, Joker is still in the isolated cell for extend time after what she done to him the first fight, but seeing this. I can see she pretty much destroyed the poor guy to the point of bedrest." Bane spoke quietly, which cause the roar of laughter to begin in the meeting table.

"Bet she had many treats and tricks for our poor scarecrow to be walking like baby deer like that."

....

....

....

Jonathan wanted to blow up the entire meeting with his newly tested extreme fear toxic bomb so badly, but he held his anger and embarrassed down tight, considering half the thing they were gossiping were the truth.

They didn't have a clue what he went through personally.

He could barely hold a shiver trying to rise up his back after what was his honeymoon, along with learning some deep dark secrets Lilith had in her closet after he tried to snoop into.

Her endless, glowing green otherworldly filled of the damned souls that the soulshredder hoard closet that sucked him in for what felt like eternity when it was only 5 minutes in there before he passed out from terror.

No wonder she wasn't afraid inhaling the damn fear toxic when she had a goddamn portal to hell in her bedroom.

What he got forced into marrying her was to destroy her, but he was now playing against the unknown element that Lilith was a mistress of.

He doesn't want to remember the Training schedule she set upon him, but the lessons..

Oh the lessons of learning about fear essence in souls, Jonathan was drooling like he was starving for every single word that Lilith was speaking during that entire session, not cause his heart was skipping a beat with how she grin about a certain topic in fear or how his palms drench in sweat and face burning hotter then lava watching her show him a tiny water drop size of Fear essence in her hands.

He never was sexually attracted to anyone women or man, much less desire to touch or have affection for, but at that moment seeing that sparkle of flaming interest and desire in lilith's eyes showing him that made all the blood in his head went south for the first time in ever was the most embarrassing thing in his entire life.

He was fucked.. even literally in the sense.

Previous pt 1 link<- pt 3 link here<-

[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!

[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

[t2316m]

Bruce is probably still afraid of bats, like this man was so afraid of bats growing up that it inspired him to be a superhero who instills fear? And you’re telling me he just got over it one day? I mean I’m sure he’s fine with the existence of bats but they still make him really really uncomfortable case and point

- Bruce’s cowl prevents him from looking up unless he goes full back bend, everyone thinks it’s a design flaw but in reality it’s so Bruce doesn’t accidentally look up and make eye contact with one of the hundreds of bats that live in the cave

- He was once at a JL meeting and thought Robin was hiding in his cape, instead when he lifted his cape a colony of bats flew out in various directions, if it wasn’t for Hal screaming his head off everyone would’ve caught the way Batman’s cowl eyes widened so much in shock the stitching around the white lenses nearly ripped

- Bruce really really really did not want to fight manbat when he first appeared, so much so that WE spent months investing in the pest control field, and it was very productive as Gotham saw a big decrease in rats and cockroaches unfortunately for Bruce, people were unsure what Batman was just that he was “Bat”Man so no one would dare touch the bats, much less the really big bat.

“That could be like Batman’s brother Mr. Wayne, we can’t exterminate him!”

*Bruce debating if he should pull a Lex Luther and base his corporation on his hatred of bats atp if it means he doesn’t have to touch manbat with his bare(gloved) hands cause just the mere sight of manbat gives him the ick, why can’t they all be like killer croc, cool dinosaur-esque monsters, ya know things that Bruce actually likes*

Bonus

- When Bruce told Alfred his (somewhat canonical) origin/decision to become Batman was because he was sulking by the window when a bat broke in and it was broad daylight and how that was a sign from his parents. Alfred did not see the sign or feel the inspiration and instead immediately booked Bruce an appointment to get his rabies shot

[hannahbarberra162]

The Crocodile's Gambit, Part 4 (Croc X Reader)

18+ MDNI on Ao3

The other chapters

Warning: description of prior abuse /medical violence in this chapter

~~~

You watched with your mouth a perfect circle as Crocodile’s hook fell to the floor. “B-but, your hook -”

“We both have our histories, our secrets, our scars. They make us who we are, not who we were.” Crocodile was unsure how he remained eloquent when surely all his blood was in his aching cock. Your eyes searched his face, trying to determine if he was going to switch his opinion and mock your scars.

“May I touch it? Your arm?” you asked hesitatingly, your hand hovering over his arm. No one had asked since the doctor had removed the stitches binding his skin together. 

“You may,” Crocodile said, allowing you to run your fingers over the scarring. 

“I’ve never seen you without your hook,” you stated, Crocodile transfixed by your slim fingers gently cradling his stump.

“No one else has either,” Crocodile said, puffing on his cigar with his hand. Normally brash, impudent, and cheeky, you ran your fingers delicately over his pitted and marked skin. Crocodile allowed you to move his arm and inspect it as you saw fit. It felt refreshing to be so open with a sexual partner, especially one who had scars of their own.

“Does it hurt?” you whispered, still tracing the faded pocks where the sutures had been.

“It aches at times, but nothing too bothersome” Crocodile said, blowing cigar smoke above your head. To Crocodile’s surprise, you began to massage his stump with your deft little fingers. It felt incredible, nothing like the rough kneadings he gave himself. Crocodile bit back a groan as he leaned back further into his padded chair. He finally had you, naked, sitting in his lap, and his first groan was elicited from a hand massage. 

“You should let me help you with it,” you offered as you continued to work. Crocodile hummed his response. It really did feel quite good to have your nimble fingers working out his tension. He’d agree to it later, right now you were looking delectable with your little furrowed brow concentrating on him, tits gently swaying with your movement.

“Maybe another time. Right now, I’m going to help you,” Crocodile said, rising to stand while holding your bottom in his arms. You squeaked from surprise, clutching his shoulders as if in fear Crocodile was going to drop you. Crocodile strode with purpose towards the bedroom, his cock tenting his pants in anticipation of being buried in your heat.

He set you down none too gently on his bed, you ass bouncing on the mattress. Crocodile undressed rapidly, wishing he was still wearing his hook to slice through his expensive clothes. Putting his cigar in his bedside ashtray, he dove right after you, pinning your wrists down above your head with his hand. “Finally, captured by the King,” Crocodile droned into your ear. His legs in between yours spread them wide open, your wet core sloshing on his thigh. Crocodile wanted nothing more than to sink into your sweet cunt immediately but he knew he had to wait. You weren’t some plaything he’d forget the moment after orgasm. Crocodile needed to show you that he was worth the ride, so to speak. “Will you be a good girl for me? Keep your hands above your head?” 

“Mmhmm. I can be good. I can be very good. I have manners now,” you purred to him.

“Talk is cheap,” Crocodile said with a smile, kissing between your tits. Crocodile growled, biting a nipple gently, earning him a yip. He kissed down your delicious stomach, licked some of your parallel line scars down your legs to your already sopping cunt. “You’ll have to show me,” Crocodile said, licking his lips and hiking your legs over his broad shoulders. 

Two orgasms later and you were no longer very good as you had claimed. At first you had been, mewling and keening for his tongue like a good little slut as you came at his command, your hands where he’d left them. But after the second delicious orgasm you were whining for him to fill you, tangling your hands in his hair in desperation, trying to squirm away from his tongue. Crocodile tsked at you. “So? What’s your answer, hm? Are you still a good girl for me?” Crocodile asked before running his tongue up the length of your cunt, flicking your over-sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue. The action had you writhing under him, trying to move him closer or farther away, he couldn't tell.

“Not such a good girl then, hm? Can’t stay still for me?” Crocodile teased as he brought himself up to loom over your face. “That’s alright, I like you wicked,” he said with a smile, kissing you deeply. You tasted your own delight on his lips and tongue, winding your arms around his neck with a contented sigh. Crocodile adjusted you to his desired position, bringing your knees up to your chest, legs hanging over the crooks of his arms in a modified mating press. Crocodile maneuvered the tip of his heavy cock to your entrance. 

“Are you ready? I know I am rather… large,” Crocodile said softly, searching your face. You grinned and patted his cheek, causing Crocodile to kiss your palm.

“Fuck me, baby,” you said with a smile. You gasped as you felt Crocodile enter your tight heaven, your channel squeezing him like a vice. You were wet and slick but so tight Crocodile had to hold himself back from pounding into you. Your back arched up as he continued feeding your sweet pussy more of his cock. Pushing himself into you inch by inch, Crocodile groaned as he finally bottomed out, your tinny whine music to his ears.

He started moving his hips with a slow roll, making you groan your satisfaction. He kept an even tempo even when you mewled at him for more.

“You don’t tell me how to fuck you , brat,” Crocodile smiled against your temple. But he did rise to his knees, using his now free hand to rub your pretty little clit. 

“C-crocodile, I’m close,” you uttered, eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

“Look at me,” Crocodile demanded, pinching your clit. You opened your eyes as you yipped with the sensation. “Look at me as you come, look at who can make you feel this way,” he growled at you, rubbing your sensitive nub faster now. He began thrusting more forcefully, rocking the bed frame with the strength of his movements. 

“ Ah..ah..f-fuck! Crocodile! I’m c-coming!” you stuttered out, your tight channel gripping and spasming around Crocodile like a vice. Your toes curled as your legs tensed, clenching around him even tighter. It was music to Crocodile’s ears and he rode you hard through your high as you came undone around him. He was near his own pleasure and relentlessly pursued it while dragging out your own. Never overly expressive during sex, Crocodile grunted as he gripped the bedpost, cracking the wooden frame under his hand. His orgasm hit him harder than he anticipated, bringing sharper relief to his aching cock than he’d felt in months. Fighting the urge to collapse on top of you, Crocodile laid to your side and rolled you onto his chest. You were still dazed from your third orgasm and breathing heavily.

“So, what do you think, brat? Am I a selfish lover?” Crocodile teased, kissing the top of your head.

“Dunno, need to test my theory again. Best two outta three?” you said with a throaty laugh. Crocodile grinned, his scar spreading further across his face. 

Later that night, Crocodile dozed off easily with your face pressed against him, drool pooling on his chest from your slack mouth. You were exhausted after enjoying each other's bodies for hours, now resting on top of Crocodile’s warm chest. He’d retrieve the hook in the morning, he thought to himself. For now, he enjoyed the warmth of your smaller body on top of his own as he pulled the blankets over the two of you.

~

Crocodile was an early riser by nature but the spot you slept in grew cold by the time he awoke to the breaking rays of the sun. He would reach for you in the morning only to find your lingering scent on the pillow. Today was no different as Crocodile woke to an empty bed. You’d started spending your nights in his bed, usually romantically, but sometimes just talking quietly together until you fell asleep. Crocodile didn’t have a sense of humor that he was aware of, but you were able to get him to chuckle quite frequently. You told him jokes, relayed funny information you’d heard and did an impressive Mihawk impersonation. Your keen intellect was always on display even when you were nestled into his side drifting to sleep. He frequently sought your opinion about Cross Guild matters and gave it as much weight as Mihawk’s.

“What should we do with the Marines that are brought here?” Crocodile asked. Mihawk very strongly wanted to kill them but Crocodile was undecided if that was the best option.

“Keep ‘em. Er, at least the high level ones. Shows you can contain powerful Marines. And the others, just kill ‘em,” you said with a yawn.

“Kill them? I’m surprised that’s your opinion dear,” Crocodile said, kissing the top of your head.

“Did you call me dear ?” you asked incredulously.

“Mmm. You are dear to me, I should hope that is clear by now. But why kill them? I would think you’d be opposed to the murder of innocents,” Crocodile mused as a blush spread across your cheekbones. You were unused to romantic affection, but Crocodile sought to remedy that with his own brand of tenderness.

“Why would I care? They’re not innocent. They’re part of the World Government, just as bad as the people on the top. Maybe worse because they sign up for it. I’ve changed my mind, I think you should kill 'em all,” you said with a pout crossing your adorable features. You were generally easy going in nature towards others, with a notable exception for Marines. Crocodile assumed your negative perception of Marines had something to do with your previous enslavement, but you’d tell him when you were ready, it wasn’t his way to pry. 

He got dressed and headed for his kitchen with a scowl. He was going to address the issue of leaving his bed without him later today - either you had to wake him up with you or you had to remain until he was ready to let you leave in the morning. He’d grown accustomed to your presence and wished to spend the early morning with you.

Pouring from the coffee carafe you’d thoughtfully prepared for him, Crocodile looked out the veranda at the island. Although it wasn’t chosen for its beauty, the island was rather pleasant in the early morning and in the evenings, when most of the crew was sleeping off their hangovers or preparing themselves for another. Crocodile’s coffee soured in his gut as he saw you from afar exchanging a hug with the Clown by the entrance to the Clown’s tent. You stayed in conversation with him afterward, smiling and laughing at the foolish man’s animated words and limbs flying about in the air. Crocodile had no idea what someone as intelligent as yourself could possibly say to such an imbecile but he’d long stopped trying to interfere in your relationship with your Captain. 

Throwing his beloved jacket over his shoulders, Crocodile stalked towards you, no longer willing to hide his jealousy. The Clown and Mihawk were aware of his feelings towards you, though neither had said anything. As Crocodile rounded the corner to the tent, Crocodile realized the Clown was speaking to you about himself. Pausing to listen in, Crocodile heard the remainder of the conversation.

“ - could get you away if you needed it,” the Clown said quietly, holding your hand.

“Nah, I like that old bastard,” you replied, nuzzling his hand on your face. It would have been a touching display of affection if it was himself, not the Clown. 

“But if there’s problems, let me know. Shanks's pretty good at chess too, watching you kick his ass would be fun,” the Clown added, putting his hand on your shoulder in concern. Crocodile gave the Clown’s words some thought. Though the fool irritated him to no end, Crocodile appreciated that the Clown was watching for your best interest even if it was against his own, he thought, chewing on his morning cigar. To offer to send a crew member to a rival Emperor was a sign that he cared for your safety, even if he had no reason to be. For this transgression of offering to take you away from Crocodile, he would only verbally wound the Clown, he wouldn’t raise his hook against him.

Coming fully around the corner, you smiled as you saw Crocodile’s own frowning face. Despite having his back to Crocodile, the Clown tensed, quickly removing his hand from your shoulder, correctly guessing the identity of the interloper.

“Good morning, Dear. Buggy,” Crocodile intoned, tilting his head in an outward show of respect towards the Clown, making you beam. You always appreciated when he showed a modicum of respect towards the Clown though it was not sincere. “Come, let us eat breakfast. Buggy, I will see you later at our meeting,” Crocodile said mildly, resting his hook on the Clown’s shoulder in a mirror of the Captain’s own movements. It always felt odd calling the Clown by his name - like referring to a an animal by a human name, but he had agreed to the terms of your service. Crocodile wasn’t going to hurt the Clown, but he didn’t need to know that now. A little negative anticipation would benefit the Clown’s mood for later. You kissed the Clown’s cheek and bade your goodbyes, walking with Crocodile back to his increasingly finished mansion.

“What was that conversation about?” Crocodile asked, though he felt foolish confirming information he already knew. 

“Captain Buggy was making sure you’re treating me right,” you replied easily. Crocodile hummed and took your hand and placed it on his arm as the two of you strolled back to his residence. He had to walk slowly to match your shorter stride but he didn’t mind enjoying the cool morning air with you.

“I know you were eavesdropping, you’re not as slick as you think you are,” you said with an impish grin. Crocodile grunted. He was slick for everyone else, just not to you.

“I’m not old,” Crocodile replied.

“You are. You’re like 50,” you said matter-of-factly.

“47, brat. Maybe I need to spank the impudence out of you later tonight,” Crocodile mused. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you said with a wink and a laugh. Crocodile’s lips quirked into a small smile. Crocodile led you past the marina towards his residence when you spotted new prisoners being unloaded from a pirate ship.

“Oh, new Marines? Anyone good?” you asked curiously, watching the prisoners being brought to the prison. Your idea had been an incredible success, Marines began arriving to the island semi-regularly. Of course, all high ranking captures were published in the news by Cross Guild, further weakening the bonds the Marines had with the less stable islands. 

“Mm. This time we have mostly low ranking Marines with a notable exception. The Mad Medic has been brought in, apparently captured and detained by his own subordinates. A rare occurrence, but nothing -” Crocodile ceased talking as he took in your countenance. You had paled, your cheeky attitude from moments prior evaporated completely. Your gaze was fixed on the ground, no longer watching the scene play out in front of you. Crocodile frowned, he hadn’t seen you this on edge since the first time he’d properly met you. And even then, you were more nervous than anything else. Your hunched shoulders and lip between your teeth told Crocodile you were scared. And that was not an emotion Crocodile liked seeing in his brave, resilient maid.

“Dear, what’s the matter?” Crocodile asked quietly, walking even slower now. His hand on top of yours kept you from removing it from his arm completely, you were practically tugging him to get further away from the marina. You were frantic to get away, your normal sassy attitude completely absent from the conversation, unlike the easy, leisurely walk before.

“Nothin’, just wanna go,” you whispered back, resuming pulling on his sleeve once more. Crocodile had never seen you so withdrawn - it must be the introduction of the Marines. Crocodile scanned the incoming prisoners, the only one of note was the Mad Medic who was decidedly unamused by the circumstances. He was examining the island and his eyes landed on Crocodile and his companion. A sickening sneer spread over his face as he leered at you from afar. Things quickly clicked into place in Crocodile’s mind as he made a quick decision. 

“And go we shall. Come along,” Crocodile said, hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the marina. Your eyes darted back towards the boats, as if to make sure you weren’t being followed. Unfortunately, the time for discretion had ended. You were going to have to tell Crocodile what had happened to you so that he could determine the level of torture the Mad Medic would face. 

Wheeling you into his house, Crocodile brought you into the study, sitting you down in your usual chair. You started to set the chess board automatically, your mind obviously elsewhere. Crocodile wasn’t in the mood for playing chess but allowed you to continue as a way to settle your nerves. Crocodile poured two cups of coffee from the carafe you’d left, handing you one after adding one teaspoon of sugar and a large amount of cream, your preferred presentation.

“The Mad Medic,” Crocodile stated.

“Yeah,” you said absently, staring at the chessboard. Crocodile made the first move, trying to ease the burden on your mind.

“Describe how you know this person,” Crocodile rumbled, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers against his hook. You studied the board and made your move, countering his pawn with one of your own. You waited for Crocodile to make his next move before you resumed speaking.

“Before Captain Buggy bought me, I was a medical slave for students training to be doctors to Celestial Dragons. They don’t train on animals or oranges or poor people, they train on slaves for accuracy. Um, like me. I had to go through lots of invasive physical exams, sutures, venipuncture, intubation, surgery…and lots of other stuff was done to me by students. It was um, bad. Really bad. That’s where some of the, um, scars come from. Suture practice. He would, um, make cuts and sometimes rub stuff in them to make them worse for the students to clean and fix. That’s why they’re so even and there’s so many of ‘em, they were for practice. And um, a buncha my veins are ruined from, um, being stuck bad too many times,” you stated, showing him the crook of your arm again. The irregular puncture wounds and parallel scars made sense now. Given the hundreds you had, Crocodile couldn't imagine how many times you had to endure being sliced just to be poorly sewn again or stabbed over and over. You were jiggling your feet and rubbing your hands together, clearly in distress.

“Come here,” Crocodile said, holding his arm out to you. You got up from your chair and came over to sit in his lap sideways, tucking yourself against his chest. “Thank you for sharing this, little one, I know it is difficult for you,” Crocodile said, rubbing your back with his hand. He kept his sand from swirling, he didn’t want you to worry about cleaning the chair. 

“And he was, um, in charge of the program. He used me more than any other slave. Said I had good skin and blood for it, I dunno. And healed faster, but I don’t think that’s true. So. That’s how I know him,” you spoke in a rush, as if you needed to get it out quickly before you stopped yourself.  “That’s, um, part of why I got so good at chess. I used it as a distraction during procedures or when in recovery, which was a lot of the time. You know, thinking about moves, playing games in my head, since um, I was strapped down and um, y’know, gagged most of the time, ” you continued, staring out the office window. You hadn’t made eye contact with Crocodile since the sighting at the marina, something that bothered Crocodile immensely. 

“I see,” Crocodile said easily, like you were telling him you wanted two teaspoons of sugar in your coffee instead of one. In reality, he was imagining the myriad ways he was going to enjoy torturing the Medic to death. He didn’t want to think of you, scared and in pain, strapped to a medical table as students practiced on your precious skin.

“And the final test for doctors who want to work for the Celestial Dragons is, um, how I got the neck scar,” you stated, though your voice had dropped to nary above a whisper. “They, um, well, he, um, slashed my throat with a razor and a fourth year student had to sew up the wound before I died. If I died, they wouldn’t pass. It was….” you trailed off, not finishing the sentence as you relived what was likely the worst moment of your life.

“But um, it took me too long to recover since the student who did mine wasn’t all that good, and um, they sold to the auction house since I couldn’t work, and um, well, you know the rest,” you ended abruptly. Crocodile didn’t want to press for the details, he would find out all he needed to from the medic in due time.

“So that’s why I hate Marines. The medical school was affiliated with them and if they were really going to protect people, they would. They would have stopped the program. But they don’t care about us. No one does,” you finished, wiping your nose with your sleeve. Crocodile reached into the pocket of his vest, retrieving his handkerchief and handing it to you. You took it and wiped your nose and eyes, sitting miserably with tears staining your pretty cheeks. 

“Would you prefer to watch his torture or participate yourself?” Crocodile asked, his head at a slight tilt as he removed your tears with his thumb.

“Wha-what? I thought you were keeping the high level Marines alive, that it-” you sputtered, finally looking at Crocodile’s face. Crocodile cut you off with a wave of his hook.

“No. This one dies by my hand. Or yours, should you wish for it,” Crocodile stated in a flat tone. 

“You’d…do that for me? I know this is fucked up, but that’s…really nice. Maybe the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I mean, aside from buying me and freeing me,” you said, wiping your nose again. 

“You are precious and irreplaceable, I will kill anyone who dares raise their hand against you. That is not a threat, it is a promise. Now, answer the question. Would you like to participate, watch, or neither?” Crocodile asked, rubbing his hand tenderly on your cheek.

“Hmm. I don’t - I don’t know. I don’t want to see him at all. I wasn’t, um, who I am now back then. It was - I wasn’t -  um, I just can’t, I’m, um, scared,” you said, avoiding Crocodile’s eyes once more. He gently put the flat or his hook under your face, tilting it up towards his own.

“It is understandable that you are afraid but you have nothing to fear. Why don’t you let me attend to this matter for now, hm? It is, after all, my area of expertise,”  Crocodile said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. You gave him a watery smile, but kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Crocodile,” you said softly. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Crocodile said, sand already swirling as he adjusted his hook.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

[fandumb-whimsey]

Scarecrow Leg Observations/Headcanons

aka I thought about it too much and now it's everyone else's problem.

(important note: I am not in the medical field and I learned/looked up a lot of this with the help of Dr. Google)

The leg brace seems like a simple detail which can be overlooked in the larger design. On the surface, it's pretty straight forward: leg got damaged and now needs an orthopedic brace to function. This in and of itself is interesting since the artist undoubtedly referenced actual braces, specifically old ones, to fit Scarecrow's aesthetic:

This is a running theme with him; he seems to favor old, antique items and will repair things (like the use of duct tape or zigzag stitching for tears on his costume) before replacing them, which fits an image of someone coming from a background of poverty. Not entirely important to the conversation, just an interesting aside.

There is official material which states his leg is "permanently broken", which is probably the easiest, most succinct way to state this issue, but it's not entirely an accurate way to put it. If a leg is considered broken beyond repair, it's likely to be amputated. Bones which don't heal correctly the first time can be broken again and realigned to heal properly, often through surgery with the use of pins, rods, plates, and/or screws. However, "permanently broken" could also be implying he has suffered irreparable nerve damage which affects the use of the leg (more on that in a moment). One possibility: The bones in Scarecrow's leg do not heal properly due to the severity of his fractures likely needing surgery. Unable to access such resources after his run-in with Croc, this results in a malunion. In his case, the misalignment could be subtle as there is no obvious bend or twist in his leg, but still causes problems which requires use of a brace.

Another possibility: Perhaps he is lucky and his leg does heal well. Maybe there's no malunion at all. Unfortunately, whether the bones mend together well or not, evidence strongly implies that it was broken seriously enough that it damaged his peroneal nerve, leading to muscle weakness and foot drop, which necessitates the use of the brace to function.

If you look closely, you can see there is additional support around Scarecrow's ankle that would otherwise prevent rotation of that joint. You can see this in the game when he circles Batman on the airship:

When he takes a step with his good leg, the foot remains more parallel to the floor. Compare that to the foot in the brace, where the toes point upward with each stride due to being in a fixed position. I feel this is a strong indication of him having lasting damage here (such as foot drop) and part of why the leg brace is vital to his mobility (and undoubtedly one of many reasons why he's so furious at Batman).

Something like this often has trickle down effects. Having to compensate for a weaker limb can throw the body off balance, especially if it's a leg. This can create joint and back pain outside of (or in addition to) the issues related to the initial trauma. Combined with the other things he has had to deal with, there is something to be said of Scarecrow's tenacity. He is very driven and ambitious, even if it's the pure, seething drive for vengeance which causes him to persevere. It's a quality one can admire. :)

The rambling ends here, thanks for reading. And an extra big thanks to a very special someone who, without their help, none of this would be possible...I'm of course talking about my guy KILLER CROC for going absolutely feral in those Asylum sewers, really gave Jonny here a spooky glow-up, am I right?

Pictured: Scarecrow regretting his fear toxin frivolity into the sewers.