#eli glue

[gaylecleven]

Callum Turner in GLUE S01E05

for @defnotanarc

[ironicallyelijah]

dipper sitting in bed one night then sees mabel across the room with a diagram of ford, fiddleford, and bill and it looks like

[johnbottoms]

NO MORE NEW IDEAS!!!!!! TIME TO FINISH MY WIPS !!!!

[stoneinyourshoe]

HOLY SHIT?!?!?!?!?

[zanephillips]

CALLUM TURNER Glue S01E03 "Eli/Rob"

[fairydustttx]

Futile Devices. Pt 1.

Bob Floyd x reader

“And I would say I love you but saying it out loud is hard, so I won’t say it at all”

Warnings: None

Wc: 2876

Summary: After a quiet separation, you and your ex husband co-parent your two young kids—with steady teamwork and unresolved feelings. As your lives continue to intertwine, moments of tenderness blur the line between past love and something that still might be.

PART TWO

Bob had never been the type to leave anything half-done—except, maybe, you.

It wasn't because he wanted to hurt you. That was never his way. Bob had always been steady, the kind of person you could lean on when the world felt uncertain. His presence was a quiet kind of safety, the anchor you didn't always realize you needed until it was missing. That's what made everything falling apart so much harder—the ground had shifted beneath you, and you hadn't seen it coming.

You'd been together for almost eight years, married for five. Renee was just learning to walk when the first cracks began to appear, subtle at first, like faint hairline fractures in glass. There wasn't one big fight or explosive moment that ended things—no betrayal or shouting match to mark a clear breaking point. Instead, it was more like water seeping into the foundation of your life, quiet and persistent, eroding the connection little by little until it wasn't strong enough to hold.

Bob’s deployments were long, stretched out like endless tunnels you had to navigate alone. The days blurred into nights, and the nights into days again, and you were left juggling two young children, a household, and your own fraying nerves.

The weight of solo parenting pressed on your shoulders harder than either of you admitted aloud. When Bob returned, you thought things would fall back into place, but readjusting wasn't a gentle reunion—it was a storm you weathered in silence. You were tired, bone-deep tired. He was exhausted in a way that left him distant. And between the two of you, small moments slipped away, unnoticed but accumulating, until even the strongest love risked drowning beneath the pressure.

The choice to separate was a quiet one, made without blame or bitterness. Sad, yes, but practical and necessary. You remember the nights spent sitting on opposite ends of the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the room. Renee, just a tiny thing, curled up asleep on your chest, her breathing slow and steady. Eli, still small, nestled under Bob's arm, his fingers curling against the fabric of Bob's shirt. In those moments, words felt heavy, but you talked through everything: custody arrangements, holidays split between houses, what to do with the family home. You promised each other—no matter what happened—you'd keep the friendship intact for the sake of the kids.

And you did. That part became sacred, a vow neither of you broke. Bob moved to an apartment just a few blocks away—close enough for Eli to walk over once he was old enough. You saw each other almost every day, brought together by the endless responsibilities of parenting. School drop-offs became routine, doctor's appointments a shared checklist, last-minute runs for forgotten glue sticks or poster boards inevitable. You built a new rhythm—softer, less electric than before, but still threaded with teamwork and care.

But sometimes—just sometimes—it caught you completely off guard. The way Bob's hand would brush stray strands of your hair away from your face when you were deep in conversation, so gentle and absentminded it felt like a memory you hadn't realized you were still holding onto. The way his eyes would find yours across a crowded room or during a chaotic parent-teacher meeting, like he was searching for something only you could give him.

It was that in-between space that hurt the most—the place where you weren't quite married, but not quite just friends either.

And you weren't the only one who felt it.

One night, over drinks with Phoenix, your best friend and confidante, the subject came up. Phoenix, always sharp and unfiltered, shook her head with a smirk. "I swear to God, Bob's still in love with you."

You blinked at her, the words tasting strange and unsettling in your mouth. "He has a weird way of showing it," you muttered, swirling your glass.

Phoenix shrugged, her eyes serious beneath the laughter. "Yeah, well. Bob's never been good at doing things the easy way."

Her words echoed in your mind long after the night ended. Maybe that was the truth all along—love wasn't simple, especially not the kind you shared. It was messy, tangled, and full of contradictions. But it was there. Always there.

                   ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It was Family Literacy Night at the kids’ school where you worked. You stood near the corner of your classroom, surrounded by the comforting clutter that made this place feel like home. The soft hum of excited children and parents filled the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional excited shout from down the hall. The faint scent of fresh crayons mingled with the warm, sugary aroma of cookies someone had thoughtfully dropped off on the windowsill.

You wore your favorite cardigan, the one knit in muted shades of forest green and soft cream that seemed to catch the light just right. It was oversized enough to wrap you like a gentle hug on days when the world felt a bit heavier. Beneath it, a simple cream blouse peeked out, delicate lace trimming the collar, adding just a touch of softness to your otherwise practical outfit. Your dark jeans fit comfortably, worn at the knees and softened from years of crouching down to read stories or tie shoelaces. On your feet were familiar well-worn leather ankle boots, scuffed but dependable—like you.

You reached out, gently smoothing a crayon drawing taped to the bulletin board, its edges curled and a little faded from sun exposure. It was a picture of a fierce T. rex, drawn by Eli last year—he had been so proud of every jagged tooth and tiny claw.

The classroom was bright and colourful, but the corners were always your favourite. The reading nook was draped with soft fairy lights, casting a warm, golden glow over the mismatched beanbags and towering shelves overflowing with books in every genre and size. Today, the beanbags were arranged in a semi-circle, ready to welcome eager young readers for storytime. You made one last adjustment, nudging a pillow into place, before straightening the "Reading Corner" sign that had been decorated with glitter and stickers by your students.

Just as you bent to pick up a stray pencil from the floor, a voice interrupted you—familiar, warm, and just a little teasing.

"Ms. Y/L/N?" Bob called out, his tone light and amused as he stepped into the room. "I heard there was a very strict reading specialist roaming the halls. Didn't want to get in trouble."

You looked up and smiled, amused despite yourself. "She's terrifying," you replied, rolling your eyes with a small laugh. "Better watch your step."

Bob was dressed casually in a soft navy pullover that stretched comfortably over his broad shoulders, and dark jeans that fit just right—practical but sharp. His glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, giving him a look of easy focus that always made your heart skip.

He was holding Renee on his hip, whose dark curls bounced as she wriggled excitedly, clutching a glue stick in one hand like a prized treasure. Eli stood at his side, already clutching a book and ready to dive into his reading.

Renee, with her boundless energy and endless questions, was a whirlwind of color and noise. At nearly five, she was already mastering the art of negotiation—whether it was convincing Bob to let her wear a princess dress to the grocery store or persuading you to read just one more bedtime story. Her laughter was infectious, but so was her stubborn streak, which meant Bob and you often found yourselves teaming up to navigate the toddler tornado with a mix of patience and exasperation.

Eli, in contrast, was your thoughtful little scholar. Seven years old and endlessly curious, he devoured books like they were treasures and could spend hours sprawled on the living room floor, nose buried in a story. He adored his sister fiercely, protective in a way that sometimes surprised you, but he also craved routine and consistency—something you both worked hard to provide, especially given the upheaval of your separation.

Eli's face lit up when he saw you. "I've been practicing this book for a whole week," he announced proudly, voice full of determination. "No stumbles, even on the big words."

You crouched to his level, your cardigan falling gently around you like a protective shawl. "That's amazing, Eli. You're a star," you told him, your voice soft and encouraging. "Go grab a pillow in the corner and I'll meet you there in a second, okay?"

Bob lingered by your desk as the kids scurried off, eyes taking in the little ecosystem you'd created. His fingers brushed a paper chain made of brightly colored construction paper, dangling from the whiteboard. Each link was carefully decorated with the students' names and little doodles.

"You've made this feel like magic," he said quietly, his voice a little awed. "No wonder they love it here."

You leaned against your desk, folding your arms lightly beneath the sleeves of your cardigan, feeling the familiar warmth of the wool against your skin. "Well," you said with a small smile, "I do get paid in crayon portraits and unsolicited dinosaur facts, so..."

Bob laughed softly, a sound that always made your chest tighten in that familiar way. "This is your world," he said. "And you're so good in it."

You felt your throat catch, the compliment slipping beneath your defenses like a secret you weren't ready to speak aloud.

You looked down at the worn wood of your desk, the faint scratches and ink stains telling stories of years spent here. "You say things like that, Bob, and it makes me forget we're not still—" You stopped yourself, swallowing the words you couldn't quite say.

He took a step closer, just close enough that you could see the soft crease by his eyes and the way the light caught the subtle few silver threads in his hair. He didn't reach out, but the space between you seemed to shrink anyway.

"I don't say those things to make it harder," he said. "I say them because they're true."

Your heart skipped a beat.

Before you could say anything else, Renee tugged at his sleeve, the glue stick still clutched tight in her tiny hand. "Daddy, come help glue googly eyes on the caterpillar poems!"

Bob chuckled, utterly helpless. "Duty calls," he said, scooping her up again.

You watched him walk away, your heart aching in a way that felt both heavy and hopeful all at once.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The school had emptied out slowly, the way places do when laughter fades and paper crafts have been tucked into backpacks. You'd spent the last half hour gathering stray scissors, erasing the whiteboard, and waving goodbye to your students and their families as they trickled out into the twilight.

You hadn't expected Bob to stay. But he had.

Now the sky was dusky blue, the parking lot quiet except for the distant hum of traffic and the rhythmic click of the janitor locking up the far wing. Renee and Eli were buckled into Bob's back seat, dozing with the telltale exhaustion of kids who'd run on both sugar and excitement for two straight hours.

You stepped outside just as he was closing the back door to his truck.

He looked up when he heard you.

"Hey," he said, softer now, like the hush of evening had settled something in both of you.

"Hey," you echoed, tucking your hands into your cardigan pockets.

You stopped beside him, shoulder to shoulder but not touching—the kind of closeness that said you could, if you wanted to.

Bob leaned back against the truck, arms crossed loosely, like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. You noticed a dab of glitter still stuck near his collarbone, catching the porch light.

You nudged him gently. "You've got sparkles, Lieutenant."

He smiled—tired, genuine. "Hazard of being a girl dad."

You were quiet for a moment.

"You didn't have to stay tonight," you said eventually. "I know you had a long shift. You could've dropped them off and headed out."

Bob didn't look at you right away. His eyes lingered on the faint glow of your classroom window, then flicked back down to the ground between his boots.

"I wanted to," he said. "Didn't want to miss it."

You nodded slowly, digging the toe of your shoe into the gravel. "They loved having you here. You make everything feel like a big deal to them."

He gave a quiet laugh. "That's because it is. You should've seen Renee working that glue stick like her future depended on it."

"She gets that from you," you said without thinking. And then: "The... seriousness. The care."

Bob tilted his head, smiling, and it was the kind of smile that made your heart ache because it wasn't meant to do damage—but it did, anyway.

"That's funny," he said. "I always thought she got that from you."

A silence stretched between you, not awkward but full. There were so many things unsaid in it. Too many.

And finally, maybe because the night was soft and the parking lot was quiet and you were both just tired enough to be honest, you asked:

"Why didn't we work out?"

Bob's breath hitched almost imperceptibly, like he hadn't expected the question—but he didn't flinch. He turned, leaning back against the truck again, looking at you fully now.

"I think," he said carefully, "we got so good at being parents... we stopped figuring out how to be people, too."

You blinked.

"That's... pretty accurate."

He nodded once. "We were always on. Always tag-teaming—diapers, feedings, naps, school schedules. And you—you were teaching through all of it. Taking care of other people's kids all day, then coming home and taking care of ours. I don't think either of us ever figured out how to take care of each other in the middle of it."

You leaned your shoulder into the side of the truck, suddenly exhausted in a way that felt deeper than your bones.

"It wasn't bad," you murmured. "It just got quiet."

Bob's voice was soft, like he was remembering it too. "Too quiet."

You let that settle. Because it was true. You hadn't blown up. You hadn't imploded. You'd just... slowed down until you weren't moving forward anymore.

And yet—he was still here. Still showing up. Still brushing glitter from your shoulder without being asked. Still looking at you like maybe he didn't know how to stop.

"You know," you said gently, "you give me mixed signals all the time."

Bob looked surprised. "I do?"

You gave him a look. "Bob. You kissed me on the cheek last week because I 'looked nice in that cardigan.' You bring me coffee before conferences. You remember what time I take my lunch. You—"

"I know," he interrupted softly.

You stopped, caught off guard by the admission.

"I know I do," he said again. "I'm sorry."

You didn't answer right away. Just looked at him, arms still folded, heart still doing that quiet, traitorous ache.

"Why?" you asked.

Bob opened his hands, a little shrug. "Because I don't know how to say, 'I miss you' without it feeling like we're breaking everything we built. Because I don't want to hurt you—or them. But mostly... because sometimes, it feels like I'm still holding on to the best parts of us, and I don't know how to let go."

You swallowed, because you knew exactly what he meant. You felt it, too.

The silence that came next was less heavy, more full of possibility.

And maybe that was enough for tonight.

You smiled—just a little.

“I was thinking… I don’t know if you’ve got plans this weekend, but—”

“Oh no,” you cut in playfully. “Is this where you ask me to babysit our kids?”

Bob laughed, eyes crinkling. “Tempting. But no. I was thinking—there’s this fall festival thing. The one with the pumpkin catapult?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Eli will explode with joy.”

“And I thought maybe we could go… together. As a family.”

It was a simple suggestion. Sweet, even. Something you’d done before. But there was something in the way he said it—soft, careful, almost hopeful.

You nodded, slowly. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

Bob smiled. “Cool. I’ll text you the details.”

As he turned to go, he paused and looked back. “You’ve got paint on your cheek.”

You reached up, already knowing he’d beat you to it. Sure enough, he leaned in, thumb brushing just beneath your cheekbone, the same way he used to when you were half-asleep on the couch and pretending you weren’t leaning into his touch.

“Got it,” he said, voice a little quieter.

"Come on," you said with a small smile. "Let's get these two home. They'll be asking for bedtime stories soon."

Bob grinned. "Lead the way."

And with that, you stepped away from the truck together, the past folded between you like a half-finished story waiting for its next chapter.

[televisiongifs]

CALLUM TURNER as Eli Bray in GLUE: Season One (2014)

[johnbottoms]

spoils quite literally the ENTIRE show so like. be warned. but anywaaaays I literally cannot stop fucking thinking abt it all I literally cannot turn my brain off abt it

[mrsniallhoran505]

Good Afternoon Callum Turner Girls!

Theme 8: Eli from glue

GACTG! Tag List:

Sometimes tags work sometimes they don't!

If you want to be added to the tag list, send me a message!

@slowsweetlove @ilovemycrayons @devyn4203-blog

[itssomeonetofightfor]

Things I hate about part 2 of Cobra Kai (a rant if you will)

This is an absolute deconstruction of everything that was set up for the last 6 seasons!

Johnny and Daniel STILL fighting about idiocies instead of focusing on the absolute fucking mind fuck that has just been played on both their kids ( not blaming Tory by the way) . Robby is her boyfriend and the last I knew Johnny was aware of Sam and Tory's budding friendship. They decided to best do nothing for them except blame each other. YAY! Off to a good start.

Lets follow it up with the least efficient support system in the world for your captain. Apparently Robby is not allowed to be fucking devastated by the fact that the ONLY person that he trusts fully has abandoned him . Apparently they, and by they I mean Miguel and Sam ( who should know better by now) , in spite of hearing endless Johnny sob sories of how he left his child behind, decides to chide him and undermine him about how he doesn't deserve to be captain. Even though we have had to put up with all his girlfriend drama, INCLUDING him re- dislocating Robby's shoulder to get a win in season 1 because he was jealous. You want to be a leader? Prop him up! God knows he needs it after everything, but NOO lets make him feel less than. And please, when he asks you to back him up you stay silent. Thats the way! It doesn't help whem Sam piles on with half winded information. That is enough to get the rest of the team to demoralize him some more..

Hawk and Demetri becoming the most hypocritical and spineless duo of the season, reverting all the work done in previous seasons. They were annoying as all hell and I couldn't care less if they were there or not. If I was an athlete on their team I would rather withdraw...what a draaag. How they acted about Kenny was so ludicrous that I wanted to punch them in the face. They also acted as if it was only Robby's fault they were failing FUCK OFF!! AND FUCK MIT HAHA.

That's how the writers made me feel, undoing all the greatness that these characters once were. I loved Miguels struggles and Sams defiance of her father. I loved the picked kid Eli becoming Hawk. I even loved Demetri's neurotic insecurities maqueraded in a ball of sarcasm. But what the writers did this season is make everybody useless so that one common purpose could be reached...MIGUEL AND JOHNNY! It would be beautiful if it wasn't at the expense of every single character in the show.It was built up only to be flattened down at the end. That's what pisses me off.

Daniel has all but forgotten the he had a mentee once. Let's give him a pointless kiddnapping story only for him to be off balance and be obsessed about Miyagi ( who these writers should not be messing with btw).

Let's keep Robby off balance for most of the five episodes. Which became a fucking nonsensical plot point by the 1000th time he looked at at Tory.

Yes, Miguel shines as the glue and hope of Miyagi-do..the only one who can keep it together for everyone., and it would be fine IF it wasn't at the expense of everyone else performing down and out of character.

But ALAS!! His lightbulb moment comes only after Johnny assures him that he is is top dawg even if he alludes that he supports Robby ( must have missed it, but if you SAY so) and finally he starts giving Robby some encouragement.

Only then, they let Robby have his well earnt moment, not only with his protegeé Kenny but for himself. IT. IS. GLORIOUS! But then, they undo it the next day by returning his rival to the tournament just to swiftly kill him... why all this you ask? Well to set up the next rival. Who for? Yes you guessed it it's for Miguel using Sam as bait.

My question is why the writers went this way and now unfortunately, because the internet internets I know leaks.

 Why? Why kill Cobra Kai's captain in the most idiotic way.

Why make Robby seem like the most undisciplined and unfocused member of the team?

Why make Sam the most irrelevant party in this tournament (unless it has to do with next rival drama).

Why neither Sensei is there for their kids (Except Miguel of course, how silly of me).

Why keep Tory in Cobra Kai?

Because in one season they are going to deconstruct all of this for it to fit Johnny and Miguel winning together as father and son as it was always meant to ( nevermind his own son who he hasn't had a scene with, but they are going to gaslight you into thinking they did)  All in the name of unity and family. They have done all characters dirty, including Hawk,  Demetri, Devon, Kenny and lets not forget..lets get Daniel distracted with Mr. Miyagi ( and ruin his legacy in the process) so that there can only be the sole father and son combo for the win. Why else make a fake miscarriage about if not for them to be reignited in the fight for the win. Miguel and Johnny. Our heroes!! They will never take accountability or flack for anything. Just as fan service in media loves it. Fuck the overarching story.

Don't get me wrong, I love Miguel and Johnny, I just don't love how they want to get to their endgame.

[muiitoloko]

Becoming a regretter

Summary: Eli remembers his daughter and becoming a remorseful man.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Daughter! Reader

Warning: Neglectful father, mention of death, regret and guilt.

Author's Notes: I wrote a short sequel to this fanfic, but I'm not sure whether I should continue writing it. I'd like to ask for your opinion and any ideas you may have, so feel free to comment.

First, Second, Third and Fourth part here.

Eli trudged through the hallway of his home, his footsteps heavy with irritation as he attempted to find a moment of peace amidst the chaos. But no matter where he went, he couldn't escape the relentless presence of his two-year-old daughter, who trailed behind him like a persistent shadow.

"Come on, sweetheart, go play with your toys," Eli grumbled under his breath, his patience wearing thin as he attempted to gently coax his daughter away. But you remained steadfast in your determination to stay by his side, your chubby little legs toddling after him with unwavering determination.

Sarah, occupied with caring for their one-year-old son Barkley, found the scene amusing, chuckling softly as she watched Eli attempt to evade their daughter's relentless pursuit. "Oh, Eli, isn't it sweet how attached she is to you?" she remarked with a fond smile, oblivious to Eli's growing frustration.

But Eli was in no mood for sentimentality, his irritation mounting with each passing moment. He made his way to the bathroom, hoping to find a moment of respite, only to have his daughter follow closely behind, abandoning your toys in favor of sticking to him like glue.

"Come on, darling, Daddy needs to use the bathroom," Eli said through clenched teeth, his irritation palpable as he tried to gently urge his daughter to go back to playing. But you only clung to him tighter, your innocent eyes wide with adoration.

Inside the bathroom, Eli attempted to close the door, but you wedged herself between the doorframe and his leg, refusing to be left behind. With a growl of frustration, Eli pushed your gently out of the way and closed the door, hoping for a moment of peace.

But his hopes were quickly dashed as you began knocking on the door, your tiny fists pounding against the wood as you called out for your daddy. "Daddy, are you finished yet?" you asked in her sweet, childish voice, oblivious to her father's mounting irritation.

Eli gritted his teeth in frustration, cursing under his breath as he hurriedly finished his business. But even as he emerged from the bathroom, you was waiting for him outside, your face lighting up with joy at the sight of him.

"Are you done, Daddy?" you asked with a wide smile, your eyes shining with excitement.

Eli resisted the urge to snap at you, instead forcing a strained smile as he replied, "Yes, darling, Daddy's finished."

Your smile widened, and you extended your arms, eager to be picked up. But Eli ignored your gesture, brushing past you without a second glance.

Undeterred, you followed closely behind, clinging to his leg like a determined koala. Eli tried to shake you off gently, but you held on tightly, your giggles filling the air as you refused to let go.

With a resigned sigh, Eli relented, allowing you to cling to his leg as he made his way through the house. You laughed and screamed with delight, completely unaware of your father's inner turmoil.

Eli remembered how much he had hated these moments, your weight and stickiness grating on his nerves. But now, as he lay on the couch with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, he couldn't help but long for those simple, carefree days.

He thought of you, his precious little girl, now lost to him forever, her body lying at the bottom of the cold, unforgiving waters beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. There was no body for Eli to bury, no closure to be found in the wake of your tragic demise.

Tears welled up in Eli's eyes as he thought of the moments he had missed, the opportunities he had squandered in his relentless pursuit of academic glory. He had been too wrapped up in his own ambitions to truly appreciate the beauty and innocence of your childhood, too blind to see the love and affection you had offered so freely.

And now, as he sat alone in the darkness of his empty home, Eli couldn't help but feel a profound sense of loss. He had lost his daughter, his precious little girl, and no amount of whiskey could numb the pain of her absence.

With a heavy heart, Eli took a swig from the bottle, the burning liquid offering a brief respite from the torment of his grief. But even as he drowned his sorrows in alcohol, he knew that there was no escaping the emptiness that now consumed him, the gaping void left behind by your untimely death.

He remembered the day he had rushed to the hospital upon hearing the news of your assault, his heart heavy with fear and desperation. But as he entered the hospital room, hoping to find solace in your presence, he was met with a wall of silence that struck him like a physical blow.

You lay on the bed, unmoving and unresponsive, your eyes fixed on a point in the distance as if the world around you held no significance. Eli felt a pang of pain shoot through his chest at the sight of your indifference, a sharp contrast to the adoration and affection you had always shown him.

Sarah, your mother, had rushed to your side, tears streaming down her face as she attempted to comfort you. But you remained impassive, your gaze unfocused and distant as she hugged you tightly, her sobs echoing in the sterile hospital room.

Eli had never experienced your indifference before, and it cut him to the core in a way he couldn't quite articulate. He was used to being adored by you, to basking in the warmth of your love and affection. But now, as he stood there watching you, he felt a sense of rejection that he had never known before.

He tried to approach you, to offer some semblance of comfort in the midst of your pain, but you ignored him completely, refusing to acknowledge his presence in any way. Eli felt a lump form in his throat as he struggled to comprehend the depth of your indifference, his heart aching with a pain that seemed to consume him from within.

The doctor, sensing the tension in the room, intervened, gently removing Sarah from your side and ushering her and Eli out of the bedroom. He explained that you refused to talk to anyone, that the trauma you had suffered had left you unable to engage with the world around you.

As Sarah wept in Eli's arms, he couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness wash over him, his usual arrogance and self-assurance crumbling in the face of your suffering. He had always prided himself on his ability to control any situation, to bend the world to his will with ease. But now, faced with your silent indifference, he felt powerless, unable to offer you the comfort and support you so desperately needed.

And the next day, Eli stayed with you in the hospital room, trying to find some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos that had engulfed your lives. He turned on the TV, hoping to distract you from the weight of your silence, but you remained distant and unresponsive, your eyes fixed on the flickering screen without really seeing it.

As you hesitantly picked at the hospital food on your plate, barely moving it, Sarah had gone home to take a shower, leaving you alone with Eli and Barkley. Eli watched you closely, his heart heavy with guilt and regret as he struggled to find the right words to say.

Eventually, he sent Barkley home too, telling him to take a shower and get some sleep. Barkley hesitated, casting a worried glance in your direction, but ultimately complied, leaving you alone with Eli.

As the door closed behind Barkley, Eli turned to you, a sense of frustration bubbling up inside him. "Why won't you talk to me, [Your Name]?" he demanded, his voice tinged with guilt. "Do you think I don't know what happened to you? Do you think I don't care?"

You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the hospital food in front of you as you tensed slightly at his words. Eli's frustration mounted as he watched your lack of reaction, his guilt gnawing at him like a relentless beast.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Eli's voice softened as he reached out to touch your hand, his fingers trembling with emotion. "I didn't believe it at first. I thought it was just some random man trying to extort money from me. I didn't think it was true."

But you still didn't respond, your silence like a barrier between you and your father, impenetrable and suffocating. Eli felt a surge of frustration welling up inside him, a desperate need for you to react, to do something besides sit there in silence.

"Fucking talk to me!" Eli's voice rose with anger as he slammed his fist on the bed, his frustration boiling over. "Do something besides just sitting there like a fucking statue!"

But you remained silent, your eyes still fixed on the hospital food as if it held the answers to all the questions swirling inside your mind. Eli felt a pang of desperation grip his heart as he realized the futility of his efforts, the distance between you seeming to grow wider with each passing moment.

"Fine, be that way!" Eli spat out bitterly, his voice laced with resentment as he pushed himself away from the bed, his frustration reaching its boiling point. "Just sit there and wallow in your fucking misery. See if I care!"

With a heavy heart, Eli stormed out of the hospital room, the weight of his guilt and regret bearing down on him like a leaden weight. He couldn't bear to be in your presence any longer, the sight of your silent suffering cutting him to the core in a way he couldn't quite articulate. But he knew you needed him here, even if it was frustrating your silence and indifference to him.

Days later, Eli drove towards your apartment, his mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at him, the knowledge that he had failed you as a father weighing heavily on his conscience. But alongside the guilt was a deep-seated anger, a resentment towards you for your silence, for your refusal to acknowledge him in your time of need.

Sarah sat quietly beside him in the passenger seat, her eyes filled with concern as she glanced at Eli from time to time. She reached out to touch his hand, offering a silent gesture of support that Eli couldn't bring himself to reciprocate. Instead, he focused on the road ahead, his jaw clenched tight with tension as he navigated the familiar streets towards your apartment.

When they arrived, Eli parked the car and climbed out, his movements stiff and mechanical as he made his way around to the backseat to help you out. You emerged from the car without a word, your silence a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you and your father.

Together, the three of you made your way up to your apartment, the atmosphere heavy with tension as you entered the familiar space. Sarah bustled around, making tea and fussing over you like a mother hen, while Eli stood awkwardly by, unsure of what to do or say.

After settling you in, Sarah suggested that they stay for a few days to help you adjust to being back home. Eli didn't object, knowing deep down that he couldn't bear to leave you alone in your current state.

But as the days went by, Eli couldn't help but feel a growing sense of frustration and helplessness as he watched you retreat further into your shell, your pain and suffering consuming you like a suffocating fog. Your routine remained unchanged, your days spent in solitary silence, your only solace found in the strokes of your paintbrush against canvas.

Sarah's attempts to reach out to you fell on deaf ears, her concern and care met with stubborn resistance as you withdrew further into yourself. She cooked elaborate meals, hoping to entice you with the aroma of home-cooked food, but you barely touched the plates she set before you, your appetite nonexistent in the face of your overwhelming grief.

Today was no different. As Sarah presented you with a plate of food, you merely glanced at it before returning your attention to your painting, your brush moving with a frenetic energy that seemed to mirror the turmoil within your soul. Eli watched from the sidelines, his frustration mounting with each passing moment.

"Enough," Eli's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, his tone commanding as he stepped forward, his authoritative presence filling the room. "You will stop painting and eat something. I'm your father, and you will obey me."

You tensed up at his words, your grip on the paintbrush tightening as a flicker of defiance sparked in your eyes. But before you could respond, Eli repeated his command, his voice brooking no argument.

"I said enough," Eli repeated, his tone firm as he reached out to take the paintbrush from your hand. But as his fingers closed around the handle, you reacted with a sudden burst of violence, grabbing the nearest object and hurling it at him with a strength born of desperation.

The object turned out to be one of your paintbrushes, and it struck Eli squarely in the forehead with a resounding thud. He let out a sharp cry of pain, staggering back as Sarah screamed in shock, her hands flying to her mouth in horror.

Before Eli could recover from the blow, you were already reaching for another object, your movements frantic and erratic as you sought to defend yourself from the perceived threat. Eli scrambled to dodge the incoming projectiles, his reflexes tested to their limits as he tried to protect himself from your onslaught.

"S-stop!" Sarah's voice rang out, her pleas falling on deaf ears as you continued to lash out with a ferocity that took Eli by surprise. But Sarah refused to give up, placing herself between you and Eli in a desperate bid to diffuse the tension.

"Please, [Your Name], stop!" Sarah begged, her voice trembling with fear as she pleaded with you to cease your attack. But you seemed oblivious to her words, your mind consumed by a primal instinct to defend yourself at all costs.

With a final surge of energy, you grabbed another object, your fingers closing around it tightly as you prepared to launch it at Eli. But as you hesitated, your eyes met Sarah's, and something seemed to shift within you.

For a moment, you wavered, the glass slipping from your grasp as your hands began to shake with uncertainty. And then, as if awakening from a trance, you released the glass and turned away, retreating to the safety of your bedroom with a sense of defeat weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Eli watched in stunned silence as you disappeared behind the closed door, his forehead throbbing with pain as he struggled to process what had just happened. Sarah rushed to his side, her hands gentle as she inspected the wound on his forehead with a look of concern.

But Eli barely felt the pain, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of emotions as he grappled with the fallout of your outburst. He couldn't shake the sense of guilt that gnawed at him, the knowledge that his actions had only served to further alienate you in your time of need.

As he nursed his wounded pride, Eli couldn't help but wonder what had driven you to such extremes, what demons lurked beneath the surface of your stoic facade. And as he sat alone in the darkness of the living room, the echoes of your screams still ringing in his ears.

Feeling the weight of his daughter's absence like a physical burden, Eli rose unsteadily from the couch, the empty whiskey bottle slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor. He stumbled slightly, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated as he made his way towards his study, his mind clouded with grief and regret.

As he entered the study, Eli's eyes fell upon the stack of papers piled haphazardly on his desk, a reminder of the responsibilities he couldn't afford to neglect. With a sigh, he sank into the plush leather chair behind the desk, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached for the topmost paper.

But as he began to peruse the test papers, his mind drifted back to the painful memories that haunted him, the image of his daughter's lifeless body etched into his mind like a cruel mockery of his failure as a father. He felt a surge of anger welling up inside him, directed both at himself and at the cruel twist of fate that had robbed him of his precious little girl.

But alongside the anger was a profound sense of loss, a gnawing emptiness that seemed to consume him from within. He had failed his daughter in life, and now, in death, he was left to grapple with the overwhelming weight of his guilt and regret.

With a heavy heart, Eli forced himself to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside his emotions as he delved into the tedious process of grading his students' tests. But with each passing moment, the memories of his daughter's tragic demise threatened to overwhelm him, casting a dark shadow over his already troubled mind.

He worked tirelessly, his movements mechanical and robotic as he plowed through the stack of papers with grim determination. But try as he might to bury his grief beneath the weight of his responsibilities, the pain of his loss remained ever-present, a constant reminder of the gaping void that now loomed large in his life.

Hours passed in a blur of mind-numbing monotony, the only sound in the room the scratching of Eli's pen against the paper as he diligently corrected his students' mistakes. But even as he worked, his thoughts kept drifting back to his daughter, her absence like a gaping wound that refused to heal.

Eventually, Eli finished grading the last test paper, the finality of the moment hitting him like a ton of bricks. He sat back in his chair, his gaze unfocused as he stared blankly at the wall before him, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

And as he sat in his study, grappling with the weight of his grief and regret, another memory came rushing back, unbidden and unwelcome. It was a memory of a time long ago, when his daughter was just a young child, innocent and full of life.

He remembered sitting at the same desk, engrossed in his work, when the door to his study creaked open, revealing the sight of his daughter standing there, rubbing her sleepy eyes as she emerged from her nap. Eli glanced up from his papers, his irritation evident as he took in the sight of his daughter interrupting his work.

"What do you want, [Your Name]?" Eli's voice was tinged with annoyance as he looked at you, his focus returning to the papers spread out before him.

But you paid no heed to his irritation, determined to seek out the comfort of your father's presence. You toddled over to him, your small feet making soft thuds against the hardwood floor as you approached his desk. With a determined expression, you hoisted yourself up onto his lap, settling yourself comfortably as you looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"What are you doing, Daddy?" you asked innocently, your voice filled with childlike curiosity as you peered at the papers and books scattered across his desk.

Eli sighed in exasperation, his irritation mounting as he tried to focus on his work. "I'm working, [Your Name]," he replied curtly, his tone conveying his impatience as he attempted to brush you off.

But you remained undeterred, your curiosity getting the better of you as you examined the contents of his desk with keen interest. You reached out to touch a stack of papers, your fingers tracing the lines of text with a childlike fascination.

Eli's patience wore thin as he watched you, his irritation boiling over as he struggled to concentrate on the task at hand. "Stop that, [Your Name]," he snapped, his voice harsh as he gently removed you from his lap and set you down on the floor. "Go find your mother and leave me alone."

But as you turned to leave, a sense of hurt flickered across your face, your bottom lip trembling slightly as you glanced back at your father with wounded eyes. Eli's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, a pang of guilt shooting through him like a bolt of lightning.

He watched in silence as you hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to stay or go. And then, with a heavy sigh, you nodded in understanding, your shoulders slumping slightly as you turned and made your way out of the room.

But before you left, you paused in the doorway, your gaze lingering on your father for a moment longer. "I love you, Daddy," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke the words that had always come so easily to you.

Eli felt a lump form in his throat at your words, a surge of emotion welling up inside him as he struggled to find the right response. But before he could gather his thoughts, you were already gone, disappearing down the hallway with a sense of resignation that cut him to the core.

Now, sitting alone in his study, grappling with the weight of his grief and regret, he couldn't shake the memory of your words, the simple declaration of love that had always been so effortless for you. He felt a profound sense of loss wash over him, the knowledge that he had failed you as a father weighing heavily on his conscience.

With a heavy heart, Eli bowed his head, his cheek coming to rest against the cool surface of the wooden table before him. He closed his eyes, allowing the tears to flow freely as he surrendered to the overwhelming tide of emotion that threatened to consume him.

In that moment of vulnerability, Eli couldn’t help but remember the painting hanging on the wall in front of him, which he had received for his birthday. He had belittled and dismissed it as nothing more than scribbles. But now, as he gazed at the colorful strokes and vibrant tones that adorned the canvas, he saw it in a different light.

It was a portrait of him, rendered with such love and care that it took his breath away. You had captured every detail with painstaking precision, from the slight tilt of his head to the twinkle in his eye, imbuing the painting with a warmth and affection that Eli had never truly appreciated until now.

And Eli regretted it, regretted not having appreciated you as he should have—his little girl, his daughter, who was now dead while Eli stood there, becoming remorseful.

[the-razzdazzler]

i started playing blush blush so here's my problems with the characters so far including the phone flings i've completed as someone who barely pays any attention to anything that's going on

THIS IS LIGHT HEARTED !!!!!!!

Nimh - he gets a pass because i think he's cute but not human guy cute like pathetic little wet mouse in a glue trap cute

Volks - better than some but he annoys me and i couldn't even tell you why, it might be the "it's not like i like you or anything" energy he brings. also why does his ass on his sprite look like it had to be added in post

Kelby - sports fan

Eli - i like him more than most of the others but he feels like a walking stereotype :/

Anon - 4chan user

Garrett - none. i like him :) /gen

Dmitri - i haven't even seen what he looks like human but this is a millenial burger joint owner who listens exclusively to stomp clap hey

Ichiban - haven't formed an opinion yet but i just unlocked him and wow that sure is markiplier /neutral

Cashew - i want to like him but he's like if Martin Blackwood was skinny and that's like an angel losing its wings

Boss - :|

Felix - he's cool but i feel like there's wasted potential there

Reece - the scarf is giving harry potter fan and it makes me want to puke even though i like the character despite that

Ace - sports fan

Ferris - it makes me uncomfortable to look at him

Poe - i wanted to like him so bad but what the fuck was that 3rd CG

Logan - can he please stop calling the cat that

[gynnnicsworld]

So I found this sterek fanfic that has so many parallels to the teen wolf movie, BUT this fic was written in 2019.

And I really need to talk about this fanfic because 1. I don't have anyone to do it with and 2. I was really surprised by some of the parallels in the fic.

This is the fanfic; It was a wednesday by isthatbloodonhisshirt

Words; 80k+

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐(x∞)

Tags;

Okay, the fic has parallels but is not identical, for example, there is no Eli and I have no idea how many years later the story is set.

First I have to say that the fic is about trying to find Stiles, because he is missing, he has been missing for 3 years,and the pack was destroyed because Stiles was basically the glue that held the pack together but with him missing, everything went down the drain.

Everyone loses their mind, everyone hates each other, and Derek returns to Beacon Hills.

→The first parallel I found was that the sheriff and Derek became close and Derek basically took care of the sheriff because he relapsed into alcoholism. As we know in the movie, the sheriff and Derek get along very well and the sheriff even acts as a grandfather to Eli and a father-in-law/friend to Derek.

In this fic things become a little darker due to the sheriff's pain at losing his son and saying many hurtful things to Derek.

→ The other thing I noticed was that the pack was no longer together, each member went their own way, and the entire first part of the fic is about the pack getting together. I mean we have all these EPIC moments of the return of all the members, Kira, Isaac, Liam, Cora, Peter, Lydia, Jackson, and basically EVERYONE.

Except those who are dead, they remained exactly the same; dead, of course they remembered them in the fic, but it was all quite appropriate.

And we all know that the teen wolf movie was about exactly that, about bringing the pack back together but the movie was a million times less epic and very poorly developed 😬. Sorry but not sorry, we all know I'm right about this.

→ Another parallel that surprised me quite a bit was that Derek was a semi-owner and worked In a car mechanical workshop. And that place was really important to Derek.

To be honest it's not my first option to think that Derek was a mechanic, of course after the movie was released that possibility made sense in my mind. But I haven't really read too many fics with that theme, so seeing that the author of the fic even agreed on that with the movie was pretty impressive.

These were probably the main parallels but I guess I could say that "one call" was what changed everything for Derek. And can we please remember how in the movie Derek tells the sheriff to call his son? Yes, thank you, and I honestly think that call would have changed EVERYTHING.

I really recommend this fic, if you have already read it please tell me what your favorite part was and if you are going to read it, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? RUN READ IT! And then come back here so we can talk about that fic. Seriously, Jeff Davis should have opted to hire writers from the sterek fandom to make that movie...the sterek fandom knows how to do things well and they make works of art like THIS.

[sapphicdiakurosawa]

I’ve seen people in the past describe Kanan & Mari as the parental figures of Aqours, similar to Eli & Nozomi with Muse. However, I would like to offer the following up instead…

Kanan & Mari are the chill, fun aunts of Aqours and Dia’s the hardass single mom, who works two jobs, who loves her kids and never stops—

Out of the three, Dia was the one with the braincell… most of the time anyways. It’s not easy being a single mom of 6, well sometimes 8 if you count any time Kanan & Mari are in a “silly goofy mood”.

Shoutout to Kanan & Mari for being the coolest aunts ever and Dia for being the glue that holds the dysfunctional family known as Aqours together.

[sinful-karateka]

Back to Back updates for Our Flight With Chance!

(aka also an attempt to promote manually since AO3's link previews don't seem to work at the moment)

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

extended author notes with mild spoilers under the cut because these two chapters have successfully clawed at me from inside the cage:

if there is anything i've emotionally prepared myself for in relation to The Line of Best fit series, it's the Demetri and Eli reunion.

who woulda thought that it'd take me two years to get to this point, only for it to genuinely come out not as a clear cut concept, but dare i say an even better play than i had originally imagined. since the show was approaching fifth season at the time, i had to come up with some plausible routes for their overdue encounter, but nothing stuck like gorilla glue. turns out i needed to wait it out for another year to flesh out the build up.

18 chapters in, at least we got to it!!! to celebrate a really small win (that is a win, regardless), i'm sharing notes from the early routes:

Miguel was meant to pick up Sam from uni, making Eli hitch along with him after the events at the strip mall, but as i continued to write, it would've felt rather forced to cram in convenient plot points into a situation like that. they would have also come together with Eli to the party, leaving Demetri clueless. again, as convenient as that sounded, having the couple situated with their own nerd boy seemed fun to play out, not to mention more sensible.

the early iteration would have involved an overheated engine situation that resulted in a fire. at the time, it was meant to happen at the afterparty of Moon's art exhibit, and while the idea wasn't bad, it surely held weak joints to justify the weight of the situation. plus it would've been a rather comical event if a fire broke out, causing everyone in the party to flee the scene and completely deter the main event which is the Demetri-Eli confrontation.

it was either i downplayed The Revelation (that being Eli is Back) as much as possible for Demetri, or have him pop off a lid and go on a field day. luckily enough we get the latter, because while it could have made sense for Demetri to Surrender All Fucks, this is also Eli he's talking to. there's only a certain, acceptable level of Hurt he can reach until the Cup of Anger starts to overflow, and being at the presence of someone who's broken your heart one too many times day in and out for the last 5 years... the guy deserves to go batshit crazy!

this is only the start of Act 2, too, with a lot more to go through in the reparation process. it's got a long way to go, but i'm making it my personal mission to update this until it's finished. if you've read this far into my ramblings -- thank you very much for trusting the story and sticking by. (❁´◡`❁)

[306saint]

I absolutely adore your trash tarot deck! What inspired you? How'd you begin? What materials do you use? I am so inspired to create my own. Is this alright??

thank you so much that means a lot!! it is absolutely ok for you to make your own tarot deck.

i'm not the first person to do this kind of thing -- i saw a couple of different versions of collage tarot decks which stuck with me and inspired me to make my own. there's these 2 tiktoks with people adhering more closely to the "trash tarot" theme: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSN6Vt7GN/ and https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSN6VvwUC/ and also this deck by a collagist/multimedia artist: https://twitter.com/FrogboiArt/status/1681076700568756226

there are a bunch of decks out there which you can draw inspiration from. as for where i started, i kind of just had the idea for the six of pentacles (gum packet with pink labelling stickers) and went from there. just go where your ideas take u honestly.

more info under the cut

in terms of how i make them, i take some stock paper and use a tarot card to trace 2 tarot-card-rectangles on to it, next to each other with the long side connected. then i cut it out, fold it in half down the centre line and glue the sides together. i like to stick it under a stack of heavy book so it dries properly. then i round out the edges with scissors nd voila u have the base of a tarot card!!

i get the materials to make the collage from: old magazines, textbooks, artbooks, informative books with diagrams etc, labels, packaging, and receipts. certain things are printed out (disco elysium gunmen and eli sunday fanart lol). use whatever u want!

i tried a couple of approaches to pick the design of the cards. one was researching the meanings/histories of the card. i found out that when tarot cards had more explicitly christian imagery, judas was on the hanged man card, so i put him on the hanged man ((im not christian lol i just think its interesting))).

another was doing more satirical/subversive? designs of the cards. eg strength usually has a woman overpowering a lion and i saw the image for my strength card and thought it would be funny if it were the opposite way around. the emperor card is an image of someone giving a speech at the UN, which i found in a politics textbook, with the speaker coloured over.

another was just looking at what i had and trying to make something out of it. i was finding way more guns than swords or blades for my suit of swords, so i decided for my suit of swords to just be any weapons.

i wrote a lot . anyway i hope this helps sorry if it makes 0 sense