#leaning-on-the-door

[dearhargrove]

Hi there! I have an eddie diaz request please. I don't know if you've seen the boyfriend door lean on tiktok but I was thinking eddie either comes across it and tries it on reader to see if it works (reader is a bookworm) or he does it without knowing what it is and reader melts (in either scenario) and she explains and shows it to him and he says he'll have to do it more often? All cute fluffy and adorable if you can please. Thank you!!

summary Eddie finds out about the 'door frame lean' thing on tiktok and tries it on you.

word count 950

tags fluffy and a bit spicy, Chris!!, Eddie's a menace

a/n hope I did this request justice because I absolutely adore that idea! Need someone to do this for me? Also Eddie would most definitely do this at any chance after realising how it had you going crazy 😭 I used this tiktok as a reference by the way!

masterlist

You're sitting up against the headboard with your book in your hands and a glass of wine on the nightstand next to you, simply passing time until your boyfriend comes home from his 24 hour shift.

You're almost done with it when you hear the front door open and close, a bag being dropped on the floor and shoes messily discarded next to the shoe rack (it seems no matter how many times you get mad at him for not putting his shoes away he forgets it and repeats the same mistake).

Moments later you see him walk along the hallway to your shared bedroom. His hair is messy instead of combed back like it was this morning when he'd made sure to ask you if it looked good, and the exhaustion is clear on his face.

You close your book after putting the bookmark between the pages you were reading and look at him with a smile that he easily reciprocates.

“Rough shift?” you move off the bed and walk to lean against the door frame as he approaches. “Yeah. People are stupid,” you chuckle and he stops in front of you, reaching his left hand up and placing it on the door frame and easily leaning his head down to look at you.

You're entirely caught off guard, not sure whether to look into his eyes or focus on the fact that this position was very flattering on his biceps. You swallow nervously which he catches and tilts his head with a small smirk.

“What? Why do you look nervous, amor?” He asks huskily and puts his other hand on your waist. That's just about your last straw and you fluster and look away, “Uh, no, just- how was your shift?”

He laughs and lets go of the door frame to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer until he can reach your neck and bury his face in it. You're pretty sure he can feel your pulse being abnormally high from where he'd placed his head, so in hopes of not making him aware of how crazy this entire situation had you going you bury your hands in his hair and gently scratch his scalp. Something you knew would make him melt any time you did it.

He grunts and his arms tighten around your waist, fingers pressing into the middle of your lower back. “Fuck,” he mumbles, “That feels good.”

Your whole ruse to distract him backfired because he just kept getting more sexy and you're pretty sure he either knew exactly what he was doing or was totally unaware of the effect this whole interaction was having on you.

“Dad, you're home!” Chris distracts both of you and Eddie kisses your pulse point and squeezes your waist again before crouching down to lift Chris into his arms and hug him tight. “Hey, buddy. Aren't you supposed to be asleep? It's almost nine thirty.”

You watch them and take the moment to gather your wits again because, oh my god. You'll never be able to read about the door frame lean in a book again without thinking about this.

Later that night when you're both in bed, his head placed on your chest as he patiently waits for you to finish reading the chapter so you could play with his hair, he looks up at you, “I didn't actually believe that door frame thing would work.”

Your jaw drops and you look at him with furrowed brows, “What do you mean?”

“That.. what's it called? Booktok. Buck was talking about it because he thought it was funny and mentioned how I should know what that is since you read so much. I didn't so I looked it up. Who knew you'd fold so easily?” He teases and you glare at him in slight embarrassment and take your hand from his hair.

“Stop teasing me about it.” He laughs and shakes his head, “Never. You looked way too cute, though I almost got worried with how high your pulse was getting…”

You gasp and flick his forehead with your index finger, about to throw some insult at him when the door opens and Christopher stands in the doorway.

Eddie sits up and you put your book on the nightstand, “Chris? Everything okay, love?” You ask and he pouts. “Nightmare. Can I sleep here tonight?”

You look at Eddie with a worried expression and he slightly shrugs but scoots to the side to make space for the ten year old. He crawls into the middle of you and you pull the blanket up to his shoulders. He looks at you with big eyes and you smile, knowing what he wanted, before carding your hand through his hair. He hums happily and Eddie looks at you slightly offended, “He's stealing your attention.”

You snort and roll your eyes, “You can wait until he's asleep.” Chris grins happily at his father and then at you. “I'm cuter anyway,” Eddie gasps and you laugh as the two banter.

One look at the clock though and you're shushing them both with a forehead kiss, “Alright now, time to sleep.” Eddie looks happy with himself, taking that as him getting all your attention now and you raise one eyebrow, “You too.”

Chris giggles and then settles down, same as Eddie after he scowls at you. You click off the small lamp on your nightstand and see Chris already snoozing with Eddie watching him fondly.

Placing your hand in Eddie's hair instead you whisper ‘I love you’ which he repeats and puts his arm over Chris to put his hand on your hip, falling asleep not long after.

[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

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

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[cheesecakethots]

The soft smile on Chrollo’s lips quickly forms into a smirk. He debates whether he should reveal himself yet, but decides against it, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. You’re too cute for your own good.

You’re too busy checking yourself out in the mirror to notice his presence, wearing that dark black coat that’s usually on him. It’s much too long for you, scraping against the floor with each little turn you do.

He sighs, seating himself on the sofa on the opposite side of the room. Might as well get himself comfortable, as this is ten times more entertaining than anything he’s ever seen.

You spin around, probably to watch the coat twirl with you, but mid-spin you catch sight of him and almost topple over.

He’s watching you with a fist propping his chin up, eyes soft and relaxed, and the sight has your chest feeling constricted.

You press a hand over your beating heart, panting a little while embarrassment settles in your bones. God, he’ll never let you live this down. He had told you he was out for the day, you didn’t expect him to be back until much later, the lying bastard.

“You- You could’ve said you were there!”

Chrollo chuckles, his tone as gentle as always, “But why would I interrupt such a lovely moment? You seemed to be enjoying yourself, my dear.”

Despite the innocence in his words, you can practically smell the smugness wafting off of him.

“Don’t read too much into it!” You blabber out, quickly shrugging the admittedly comfy coat off of your shoulders, “I was just curious, okay? It looked super warm.”

He grins, “Curious?”

Fucking asshole.

You take off the coat, holding it up to him, “You can have it back. It reeks of you anyway, I don’t want it.”

The spider doesn’t say anything or even move from his seat, instead simply raising an eyebrow in a playful manner, and lifting a hand up as a signal for you to come over and pass it to him.

Your eyes narrow. “Nuh-uh. You come get it. I’m not your maid.”

His smile widens. “While I must admit the imagery of you in said uniform is… pleasing, I’m not treating you as such. I’m comfortable here, and you’re the one who got it out, aren’t you, darling?”

The gaze that’s locked onto you is full of amusement, and two of his fingers beckon you forward.

With a glare and eventual sigh, you move closer, still holding the coat out. “There, you can grab it now, you laz- ah!” Your words are cut off when his hand reaches out like some snake attempting to wrap around helpless prey, latching onto your arm and tugging you into his lap. He catches the coat that slips out of your hands, holding it up with one for you to see.

“There, now I have it.”

“You pervert!” You cry out, legs kicking to no avail. The man laughs, unwavered by your petty struggles as he lays a hand to rest atop one of your thighs and leans closer so that he can whisper in your ear, “Oh, if only you knew.”

His mouth quickly lands on your neck, laying passionate kisses down it. You feel your face grow hot, especially when a quiet moan leaves him, his hands holding you all the more closer.

“Next time,” he murmurs, his voice deep and lustful, “you should consider wearing only the coat.”

You’re not sure if you want to slap the smirk off his face or kiss it.

[ianthedebonair]

Right in front of her ramen

[kellycataclysm]

Consider me on my best behaviour

Monday morning came and he stood before me, dressed for work, about to leave. Placing one arm above me, he leaned on the frame of the bathroom door. A shiver of excitement trickled down my spine as I pressed my back to the wood, the smirk on his face betraying how he loved to tease me, make me so aware of his height, seeing how I dissolved in his presence. He traced his finger along my jaw before hooking it under my chin, bringing my lips to his. I sighed loudly, the sound falling as if from a dream, as his hand moved, his thumb sweeping gently over my cheekbone as he kissed me deeply. I twisted my hand around his tie, grasping urgently, almost afraid to let go, needing him close.

‘I wish you didn’t have to leave…’ I pulled back, breathless, eyes dazed, tasting his coffee on my lips.

‘Me too, sweetheart…’ He spoke as he kissed me softly, making my head spin.

I mentioned I had more than one commission arrive to boost my serotonin levels this week!

I was so lucky to commission the super awesome and talented @jothemouse to draw a little flirty scene between Lyra and Harvey taken from my long fic. Yes, it was completely inspired by the booktok door lean. What can I say, inspiration comes from so many places.

Thank you so much for working with me! I am completely in love with the way you captured their flirtatiousness, their little smirks, the playful dynamic they have. Harvey is SO TALL and handsome and excuse me but my girl Lyra looks great here! I am obsessed with her thighs!?!? Thank you so much for such an amazing and fun piece of art!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Howdy's rainbow suspenders.

thank you for coming to my Ted Talk-

[poppy-metal]

patrick core

him squinting at his phone because you dropped a big word like discombobulated and it shut down his brain.

[puppyeared]

AND I MET THE CHANGE GOD TOO. OKAY. COOL OKAY

[backjustforberena]

While everybody else is melting down, she's kind of holding them all emotionally and holding together herself emotionally. She's got on the back of that dragon and she's gone out and she's been basically doing all the work! I feel like she's sort of coming back, she's absolutely exhausted, she hasn't had a bath for ten days, completely knackered, she's been riding around on this dragon, sort of not crying and just dealing with everything, dealing with it and getting on. She comes back to this group of total halfwits, who are all in pieces, melting down left right and centre. And seeing the world around her melt down too. She's carrying a very, very heavy load and I think she's absolutely shattered and emotionally shattered.

[screechingfromthevoid]

The cape wrapping was too much for me I have to leave

[leona-florianova]

While the dependant plants in Trigun Stampede look cool as combination of angelic alien orchids and some sea creatures in their little aquariums, im intensely bitter because of how literal they made it (oh they really are plants plants huh) and the lack of the absurdly massive light bulbs they resided in in the 98 anime and manga..Like, Not all of the light bulbs were humongous, hanging over towns, but the ones that were, were mindboggling...There is something intense about something so powerful (and kinda eldritch) being captured in something so massive yet fragile looking.  I loved the old bulb and plant designs so much because they werent just cool aesthetics... I loved them because their size and design didnt make sense. As a man made horrors beyond our comprehension shouldnt make sense. And their visuals evoke in me memories of how it felt standing at a foot of a 125 meters tall cooling tower of a nuclear power plant. Its monumental, useful and potentially very dangerous... so much so one has to feel humbled.

- Plants in trigun 98 (we didnt learn much about them because there wasnt enough of material to work with)

- Plants in the manga...whats important to note, is  that the plants often stood over the towns as in constant vigil (monumental yet sentient)... not just visible from all around by everyone, but they themselves kept on observing all the people living their lives underneath their bulbs... All the people prospering from their services.... or fighting and killing over them

- Plants in Stampede.. While they are still interesting designs, the little aquariums conveniently small enough to be more easily stolen dont do it for me, even though they still represent the power of captured nature. They are also...very very sheltered from humans. Hidden and overlooked, although important.. Which makes me sad. And doubtful that there will be many interaction scenes between them and the people... Hopefully in next season there will be big bulbs and interactions.. but who knows.. (Ok, like, it makes sense that a core of a power plant should be hidden and protected inside of a building,  but I wish to see some big bulbs!! I wish to see them spilled out of the wreckages of the big space ships)

And to illustrate what I meant about the comparison to actual nuclear power plants in their absurd monumental insanity (which is somewhat also sort of mundane??).. here are some photos of our nuclear power plants. Dukovany and Temelín

-Dukovany photo by Zdeněk Dvořák

- Temelín as the Big Night Watchman (video mapping by Milan Cais, photo by ČTK)

I love this sort of thing so much n need more of it.

[smulie]

Tête-à-Tête

Lapis' extracurricular activities have landed him in some trouble - Elliot and Liah are at odds on how to deal with it.

[Transcript under the cut]

Liah: caught pranking the teachers lounge Elliot. So not just his teacher - he tried to piss them all off. How are you not mad right now? Elliot: One of us has to remain level headed. Liah: Excuse me!?!?

Elliot: I'll talk to him love, get to the bottom of it. Liah: and the swiping? we're just going to gloss over that? Elliot: Rumors love, by bored moms who like to look down on families like ours. [leaves room] try to relax - you don't want to show up to the Kealoah's pissed. Liah: [exaperated sigh] the pbjs are in the fridge.

[miraculouslytiredout]

i also kinda wanna talk about how ladybug had to see adrien (rightfully) lash out at her but the same boy just melts when he sees her again as chat noir and just holds her. possibly in place of when he wouldn't let her hold him when he was grieving.

[andy-clutterbuck]

4x03 | Isolation

[imthursdaysyme]

Eddie my tall string bean

[butchdykenormallen]

we were blood related. we had everything. we were a full family. safety, love, and care. we had everything i'd ever dreamed of. and i took it away. i ripped it from my hands with the force of my actions. i killed, i shed the blood of my own against the beautiful landscape. i loved, and my love was a vile thing. you both left me here. my blood was tainted. the only thing that could possibly connect us was blood, and even that was running thin. i stand before four graves. only three are dead here. only one wishes to be. my blood rumbles through my veins, keeping me here, keeping me in this damned state for life. i watch your shadows dance in flowers, just as we did. i watch your smiles in my vision whenever you go. and just as i walk close, i feel everything crumble. i feel it all slip through my fingers like sand, and you leave me again. why do i carry your blood? why can't i get rid of this? why cant i rid myself of this curse, give myself the love of another blood? is it because i, myself, am ruined? my flesh, seperate from blood, is still cursed? will i have to rid myself of everything? my identity, my soul, my everything? if thats the case, if thats what this takes, if thats what i need to be free, then i wont hesitate. ill drain myself of life here, in my own grave, far away from everything. far away from anywhere my blood could hurt again. ill make sure that i am solitary, i will make sure i am gone, i will make sure that nothing of me is seen again. i will be someone you never knew. maybe then you'll be able to love me. when im not me.