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#*mocking eliot* i got hit with a car
geekynightowl1997 · 8 months
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Parker's driving is a BIG mood! (LITERALLY me driving.)
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appleciders · 3 years
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obviously everyone is entitled to their feelings about characters and plotpoints but whenever people try to bring up rachel’s “attempted drowning” of leah as a reason they don’t like rachel or their dynamic i do feel like parker in the boost job when eliot goes “i got hit by a car!” and parker mocks “‘i got hit by a car!’ GET OVER IT” bc while it’s clearly a fair point to not be happy with, i’m here:
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kookicat · 4 years
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Consequences That He Renders
He's shaking hard enough for her to feel, fine tremors running through his hands, his arms and it's freaking her out because as a rule, Eliot Spencer isn't a man who shakes. The last time she'd seen it was after a job went majorly, horribly bad, when he'd been so battered and bruised and bloody they'd actually managed to get him to visit a hospital. It's too dark in the car to get a proper look at his face, but the streetlights offer glimpses and she'd swear on a stack of hundred dollar bills that he's pale, eyes shadowed, gaze fixed at some point miles past the glass. 
The car hits a pothole, hard, and he grunts, lip curling, one hand creeping up to cup his left shoulder. It's the one he favours first, some nagging remains of an old injury, and it makes the tension in her stomach curl a bit tighter, like a snake burrowing into the sand for the night. She's a thief; she's trained to notice the smallest detail because it can be a matter of life and death if she misses something. Another piece of the mental jigsaw she's building clicks into place when he shifts, jaw tightening as some sore spot somewhere presses against the seat. 
"Eliot," she starts, resisting the urge to poke him, to see how badly he's hurt this time in favour of leaning over a little. 
"Parker," he says, voice hoarse with exhaustion, and turns towards her. He can't quite meet her eyes. Another piece. Something bad happened. She's not great with emotions but she's learning. It's not shame on his face, but sorrow. 
"Are you okay?" She gives into the urge and presses her hand against his arm, half expecting him to move away. 
He doesn't, just blinks tiredly at her and dredges up a weak smile. "I'm fine," he says and she lets the lie slide because she knows he's not fine at all. 
"What happened, at the warehouse?" She keeps her eyes on his face, seeing a flicker of something before he shoves it down deep. 
"I did my job. Got Nate and his Italian friend out of there." As he says the words, voice flat, the smell of cordite floods his nose, thick and bitter and choking. He can feel the weight of the guns in his hands, feel the shock of the recoil burning up his wrists as he takes the next target out. As he kills the next man, the voice in the back of his head mocks. 
It had felt clear and clean in the moment, the kind of clarity only found at the right end of a gun but he's reeling, because he stepped into the kill box and didn't expect to walk back out. His life for his team's, a fair and more than even trade. He'd do it again in a heartbeat, but after the fact, he's not quite sure how he managed to survive. 
"Oh," she says, voice so small, it makes him really look at her. There's a pensive frown between her eyebrows that he longs to wipe away but his hands aren't clean and he doesn't want to stain her. She needs a distraction, and he inadvertently gives her one when the car hits another bump, forcing another soft grunt out of him. 
He's wrenched his back and bad shoulder all to hell and he's pretty sure that both knees are skinned raw from his slide. There's a low grade throb in both hands that he knows will evolve into a full on ache before too much longer. He knows guns, but he rarely uses them and he's paying the price. 
"I thought you said you were okay!" She reaches for him, and he wards her off with one arm, biting the inside of his lip when she grabs his arm right over a growing bruise. 
"I've had worse," he says, and it's true. He's pretty sure nothing is broken. He's just sore all over, abused muscles aching but it's not life threatening, just enough to make him miserable. 
Something in her eyes shifts and she blinks, hard, hand tightening a little on his arm. He expects her to speak, but she just presses her lips together and leans against him gently, staying there until the car stops.
Hardison looks up from his laptop, taking in the scene with a sweep of his eyes, and gets out, coming round to open the door. Parker slides out of the other side and Eliot realises with a jolt they're all waiting for him, even Sophie and Nate.
It's going to take him a moment to get out and he'd really rather not have an audience for the performance. 
"I'll catch up," he says and holds his hand out for the keys. 
Parker snatches them from Nate. "We'll catch up," she says, giving Hardison a meaningful glance. 
Sophie catches on and takes Nate's arm, tugging him towards the hotel entrance, casting a worried glance back at the car as she goes. 
Eliot gets a good look at his friends’ faces and chokes back a sigh. They're going nowhere at least not without an argument, and he just doesn't have the energy for it right now. He swings his legs out of the car, pausing for a moment when his back spasms, then forces himself to stand. Being upright hurts, the long muscles in his abs tight and sore, back aching. The shootout ran him through the wringer and the aftereffects are starting to kick in. 
"Come on, man," Hardison says and leans past Eliot to slam the car door. One hand lifts like he wants to offer assistance, but the older man shoots him down with a quick look. 
They flank him, Parker on one side, Hardison on the other as he limps towards the entrance, feeling the denim peel away from his knees in a way that makes him want to hurl. His shirt is sticking to his back in a similar way and he rolls his shoulders in annoyance. It sends a bolt of pain down his spine and he stops, eyes closing until it eases. 
"You're freaking me out, man," Hardison says, running his gaze over the other man, checking for blood. There's a few spots - his left shoulder is sporting a nasty blood stain, as are both of his knees, but nothing major jumps out. They've seen him hurt worse and walk it off but this time is different and Hardison just can't put his finger on why. 
Eliot starts walking again, eyes fixed on the doors, but he's distant, pensive and Hardison realises with a jolt that's the problem. There's a level of quiet they only see from the older man when he's really hurt but that doesn't tally with the visible injuries and it's ringing alarm bells in Hardison's mind. 
He glances at Parker, getting a nod in return. Something dreadful went down in that warehouse, bad enough that Eliot doesn't want to talk about it, bad enough that he's pulled back into his shell. The thought of what it could be sends a chill down Hardison's spine. Part of him wants to push, to needle a confession from the other man but a bigger part of him doesn't want to know. Their hitter had done his job and got everyone back safe and beyond that the details don't really matter. They won't judge him no matter what he did. 
There's an elevator waiting in the lobby and they shuffle into it. The mirrored walls show Eliot just how bad he looks, and he suddenly understands why his friends are so concerned. He's pasty, dirt streaked and vaguely clammy in the air conditioning. He wants a shower, a change of clothes and a time machine, so he can go way back before this whole mess started and stop Nate from throwing them at Moreau. He knows which of those he's likely to get and leans against the wall with a sigh. 
He's lucked out on this stay, managed to get a room to himself and he fishes in his pocket for the key, vaguely surprised it's still there. 
Parker and Hardison are looking at him and he licks his lips, tries to dredge up some sort of response and settles for a quick, tired smile that he knows doesn't come close to reaching his eyes. "Thanks," he says and unlocks the door, "I'm going to go clean up. See you in a few." 
He ducks inside, closing the door on them, knowing it's a shitty thing to do. He's pretty sure they'll forgive him, pretty sure they'd already figured out this wasn't a normal job and he's not in the mood for twenty questions. He pauses, slides the chain into place like it'll stall Parker for more than a couple of seconds if she decides she wants in. 
Pain runs through his fingers as he grabs a change of clothes and carries them to the bathroom, starting the shower. His clothes stink, a bitter mix of smoke and cordite and sweat and he struggles out of them, throwing them in the corner for now. The water engulfs him, washing away the physical traces of what he did and it suddenly hits him, hard enough to unlock his knees so he ends up sitting with his back to the shower wall. 
The tears are a surprise, because he thought he'd forgotten how to cry, used them all up. He pulls his knees up and rests his forehead on them, gulping in breaths when black spots swirl through his eyes. He's not weeping for the men he killed - their own choices put them in that warehouse, and none of them was an innocent - but for the man he was becoming, someone closer to the kid he searches for everyday in the mirror. They leave him aching and empty and hollow and it's going to take a while to soothe the new raw spots inside his soul. 
He's chilled from sitting in the cold tile and the water is starting to run cold so he forces himself to his feet, reaching for soap and a washcloth, scrubbing any last trace of the battle from his body. It stings in places, highlighting minor cuts and knicks he didn't know he had until the lather found them, painting a map of damage to his body. He can't quite lift his left arm high enough to wash his hair and settles for doing his best one handed. He rinses, shivering, under the now cold water and steps out, wrapping a towel around his hips, leaning towards the mirror to find out why his shoulder hurts so much. 
There's a splinter longer than his hand in the back of his shoulder. He can see it in the mirror but he just can't get the angle to dig it out. It hurts, a nasty throbbing ache that makes him want to tear his arm off and he tries again, flinching when his fingers just brush the wood. He's going to need help and stoops to find his phone in the pile of filthy clothes, sending a quick message. 
He drys himself, slipping into soft sweatpants, draping a towel carefully around his neck to catch the water trickling from his hair. Somehow he's not surprised to find Parker and Sophie are already in the bedroom when he opens the bathroom door and steps out. There's the big medical bag between them on the couch and he pauses, steeling himself because the damn thing has to come out but it's not going to be a fun process. 
"Hi," Parker says, voice just a tiny bit unsure, like she's not sure how he's going to react. 
"Hey, Parker," he says, voice so rough that he winces, tries to swallow. "Sophie." 
He's not sure which one of them is more surprised when she stands, wrapping her arms around him carefully. 
"Thank you for bringing him home," she whispers in his ear and he nods, having to swallow hard before he can answer. 
"I'd do the same thing for any of you," he says simply and lets himself lean into the hug for a second. 
The towel slips and she gasps when she sees the sliver of wood lodged in his flesh. "Jesus Christ, Eliot!" she says, ducking out of his arms for a closer look. "This is not a little problem!" 
He flinches, a little at her raised voice, knows they both notice. "Still needs to come out." 
The room has a small table and he turns one of the chairs, sitting down slowly and resting his good arm on the back. His left shoulder doesn't want to bend and he gives in, tucking his arm in in front of him. 
"Eliot, are you sure about this?" Sophie asks. "I'm sure we can find an actual trained medical professional to remove this from you."
He scoffs at that. "It's a splinter. If it was somewhere I could reach, I'd be digging it out myself right now." 
"It's going to hurt," she says and if his head wasn't already throbbing, he'd roll his eyes at that. It already hurts, and getting it out before an infection sets in is his main concern. 
"Just do it," he says, and put his chin down on his good arm, watching Parker as she lays out various medical supplies on the table in front of him. There's tweezers, squares of gauze, dressings, tape and wound ointment. He bites the inside of his lip, lifting his head to speak. "Grab the scalpel and stitch kit too," he says simply and she nods, one sharp bob of her head and reaches back into the bag. 
Sophie presses an ice pack over the wound and he shivers under the chill, but it helps, takes some of the throbbing away and he's damn grateful for that. 
Parker slips a pair of gloves on and moves behind him, reaching over him to grab some gauze and the tweezers. The closeness makes him feel twitchy and his hand tightens on the chair. 
He grits his teeth as she lifts the ice pack off and probes the sliver with the tweezers, the plastic catching on the wood. It makes him flinch, muscles twitching and he feels her freeze behind him. 
"I'm okay. It's okay," he says quietly. "Keep going." 
"Tell me, if you need me to stop," she says, one hand brushing his bare back before she gets to work with the tweezers again. 
It's a nasty sliver, maybe four inches long, jammed in the muscle just under his shoulder blade. The end is ragged and friable and every time she thinks she's got a good grip, the wood breaks off. The muscles in his back are tense under her hands, breathing deliberately steady and she knows all the poking must be agony. 
"Parker," Eliot says, voice slightly hoarse, and she stops instantly. "Just cut it," he adds and blows out a ragged breath. 
"Cut you, you mean?" She glances at the scalpel and shudders. 
"Yeah," he says, and turns as much as he can to look at her. "That's where the damn thing is, after all." He's pale again, eyes shadowed, and there's a fine sheen of sweat on his face. 
She licks her lips and nods. "Tell me what to do." 
He does, in more detail than she ever wanted and her hand only shakes a little when she picks the scalpel up, trying not to think as she follows his instructions, swabbing his back with antiseptic first. Shaky doesn't seem an acceptable trait for performing minor surgery and she presses the ice pack against his shoulder until she has the shake under control. She places the blade against his skin and makes one swift cut. It frees some of the splinter and she reaches for the tweezers again but the wood still stubbornly refuses to come free. 
It rips a pained grunt out of him and he swallows so hard she can hear it. 
"Eliot…" Parker says, free hand on his good shoulder, thumb rubbing absent circles on his skin. She looks up, meeting Sophie's horrified gaze. It's not the first time they've had to do stuff like this and given their jobs, if probably won't be last but that doesn't make it any easier. 
"Just get it done," he rasps, tacking on please as an afterthought to soften his tone. 
"Okay," Parker says and makes the cut bigger, swiping away blood and letting the gauze drop to the floor. 
His back is still under her hands, but she can hear the strain of it in his breathing when she goes in with the tweezers again. His good hand is gripping the chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white, head tipped forward so his hair falls past his face, hiding his expression. 
Blood wells again as she gets a good grip on the wood and tugs. It moves this time, sliding out maybe half and inch and Eliot makes a noise halfway between a hiss and a grunt. 
His whole world has distilled down to the throb in his shoulder, the sharp but cleaner pain from the incision, the ache down his back as he fights his instincts to stay still so he doesn't scare Parker half to death. 
"Nearly done," Parker says, and he can hear the wobble in her voice that means she's crying and trying to hide it. 
Must be the day for it, he thinks. "You're doing great," he tells her, because she is. It's a damn brave thing she's doing, and he's not sure how to make her understand how grateful he is for the help. 
She changes her grip on the tweezers and takes another hold on the sliver, pulling slowly, easing it out from under his skin. The entire thing slides free suddenly and she feels like cheering. "It's out," she says and drops it on the table in front of him. 
He swipes his hair back from his face, blinking at the damn thing in surprise. It had felt huge in his back, like a stone in a shoe, but it's actually bigger than he'd expected. 
"Well, fuck," he says simply, and takes a deep breath that doesn't pull obscenely at his shoulder. 
Sophie hands over a dish of antiseptic and more gauze. "It says it doesn't sting," she says and takes a minor risk, resting her hand on his arm. His muscles tense under her touch at first before he blows out a long breath and lets himself relax. 
She's right, it doesn't sting at all as Parker cleans the wounds, adding wound ointment for good measure before taping a dressing securely over the top. He's glad she's being so thorough because pallet wood tends to be coated in all kinds of dirty stuff and the last thing he wants is an infection. 
He's exhausted and all he wants to do is give into the pull of the bed and sack out for a couple of hours, give his brain and body chance to rest a bit but he's painfully aware of Parker standing next to him, face pale. 
"Thank you," he says. "Feels better already," he adds, and it's not quite a lie. 
She nods, sharply and he forces himself to his feet, accepting a t-shirt from Sophie who tips her head towards the door and slips out quietly. 
"You were shaking in the car," Parker says and he sinks back into the seat. "Why were you shaking in the car, Eliot?" she asks, like it's something she can't quite square in her mind. 
He licks his lips, knowing he's too exhausted and mentally fried to have this conversation right now. He also knows that he owes her. "It was a rough fight," he says simply, after a long pause, thankful there's enough cuts and bruises on his skin to sell the story. 
"Did you kill someone?" She can't look at him and he feels a stab of self hatred rip through him, more painful and cutting by far than the wound on his back. 
He hesitates, again, because he doesn't want her to think badly of him, but she's been brave enough to ask the question and he needs to be brave enough to answer. "Yes," he says and doesn't try to explain or excuse it. He did his job and he'll take the consequences, no matter how much they hurt. 
"Okay," she says and looks at him. "You should rest," she says and a rush of gratitude races through him for the way her brain works. She's got the answers that she wanted and she's not going to press him for more. 
He stands, body aching, and brushes past her, dropping a featherlight kiss on her temple on the way to the bed. "Stay?" he asks, in the same tone she'd once used on him, and she nods, curling up one one side of the big bed, one socked foot resting against his calf. 
It takes him a while to get comfortable and he watches as the tension slowly drains from her face before he lets his own eyes close. 
Thank you, he thinks. Thank you for not hating me. Thank you for giving me another chance when I don't deserve it. 
He's not sure how or why or which God is setting up a long joke at his expense, but he's found a family and he's going to do everything he can to keep them whole. 
Even if it costs him more of his already tattered soul. 
That's a consequence he can live with. 
Losing them isn't. 
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praesaepe · 5 years
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Eliot: I got hit by a car!
Parker: [mocking] I got hit by a car!
Parker: Get over it!
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rinadewolffe · 6 years
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My impression of Life is Strange: Before the Storm
So I got through it last night. I actually had to think things through because I really feel heartbroken. And from now on, here come the massive spoilers for the game.
So, Life is Strange... We know that. There is no other person, living, dead or fictional I could relate to more than Chloe Price. Ever since the first season of Life is Strange I wanted to know her story as well. And honestly, thank you Deck9 to take me on that journey. Even in Before the Storm I have three save files: one for my best friend, one in which I make the decisions like I was sixteen and one in which I decide like I would decide at my current age. But I consider my official playthrough is the one on which I make choices like I was sixteen and here’s the reason why: I was nothing more than Chloe. We clearly have some differences, but I also know how it feels to be alone, in pain, boycotted, being a freak etc.
No, my father is not dead. He was just wasn’t around when I needed him most. Not because he died or because he didn’t love me, simply, he worked far away from home most of the time. And only recently he decided he’s fed up with that and he will start working in the region. It will not really affect my life or how I grow up as I’m way over 14, I’m over my teenagehood, in fact, officially I’m even closer to 30 than to 20. And when my father wasn’t around I was left alone with my mother who... whom I actully love, but she is toxic.
Getting back to the topic, I didn’t lose my father but I lost a father figure at the age of 12. That was when my world turned upside down. And I felt just like Chloe: alone with grief. She couldn’t understand why that happened to her and neither did I. We both tried to brush the pain away. And here is just another difference: I didn’t get addicted to weed. I simply tried to drink the pain away and I rebelled like never before, up until I turned around 23.
When Chloe met Rachel they immediately felt that it was something different. Whether or not it was something more than a friendship, it was strange and strong. And believe me, meeting this kind of a person is only once in a lifetime. Their bonding started immediately.
But was Rachel really manipulative? Was she so bad for Chloe? Remember how Eliot tried to make her see it that way? It was just the Max vs Max scene in the first season, when “Bad Max” tried to convince Max about that Chloe is bad for her. Could that be Chloe was simply blind and she was just happy she actually found someone she could trust? Is it really that bad?
But let’s forget about the moral questions right now, let’s actually get to the episode.
So how was it? We were thrown right into the middle: we learned Sera’s story. It was actually told. The mystery is over. Dislike. However I loved the depiction, how the two girl watched the story through the viewfinder. Because that was where their bonding really started, right? At the viewfinder.
The next scene in Rachel’s room was just... Heartbreaking and heartwarming at the very same time. This was the time when their relationship deepened. Chloe just made it clear that she would do anything for Rachel. She knew she just found that special person. Rachel was the only one there for Chloe in that confusion and vice versa, no wonder their relationship developed quickly.
I think it’s needless to say that every scene which involves David purely disgust me. The only reason is that he is also broken but he plays his cards very, very wrong. Like Chloe was a threat to her. He stated that he knows she didn’t like him, but seemingly it works vice versa as well. The only person here who tries to keep things together is Joyce but her opinion about disciplining clearly differs from David’s. He tries, but his methods are so wrong and there’s no way he can’t see it. The thing he tried to connect to Chloe through the death of his friend is just simply... weird, to say the least and it was not enough. It would never change the fact that he doesn’t respect Chloe and this was the first time he actually almost hit her. The girl was disrespectful, I admit that, but let’s be honest, David was a dick to her before and it wouldn’t change just in one day. 
Moving on to the junkyard where Chloe could actually fix the truck and she meets Rachel, Merrick and Frank. The fact that Rachel finds the whole fixing the car and having a blue strand of hair hot is just... I don’t know, it totally hints that Chloe’s not the only one who’s crushing... Anyway, of course it wouldn’t last. The way Merrick tried to prove he’s the alpha is just... I wanted to say it’s disgusting but thinking about it, it’s just typical. And the fight scene was something I was not prepared for, however by the trailer I had the feeling that Rachel would get hurt. If you try to mock Chloe about that she did actually nothing, try to think about it: she actually admitted that she froze. She technically blamed herself. She didn’t really think about that she actually got Rachel to the hospital just in time. I think most of us would just freeze in a situation like this. The hospital scene was just the peak for me, to be honest. The promise Chloe made to Rachel was the sign of that she would do anything for her. And around this point I started to lose my shit, especially after the scene with Eliot.
Like, what was he thinking? He was stalky enough in the hospital, wasn’t he? But when he went full rage on Chloe he almost scared me. He used to be the Warren of Before the Storm. By that time it became clear that yeah, he’s Warren but dumber, more stalky and much more unstable. Actually scary. I partly get where it comes from: he feels like Chloe is ungrateful. He even emphasized that he was there for her all along. That’s right. Okay. They dated for a while and it surely made a bigger impact on the guy. But releasing all this anger on the girl was just not right. Not like this. The only thing he achieved was Chloe couldn’t care any less about him. 
And this was where I lost it, finally. When Chloe got to the mill. Right before that when she spoke to her dad one last time, admitting finally that was not real was really touching, but she had only one goal: to save Sera so Rachel could actually meet her. That whole scene, including, and actually highlighting Sera’s and Chloe’s conversation was so off, so unreal for me I basically lost faith in the game. (And I had no idea the worst was yet to come...) My 16 year old mind wouldn’t have understood the whole situation either. Rachel would’ve deserved to meet her (I know there is an option, if you choose the bracelet in episode 2), but still... Maybe Sera was right, maybe she wasn’t. Chloe did everything she could. The last decision was just like... terrible. There’s no good ending again, right? Lying or telling the truth, in both cases Rachel would be hurt one way or another.
And finally... the ending scene which left me... I don’t actually know if I feel dissatisfied or dissapointed. Definitely not backstabbed. But wrapping up 3 years like this is just... so off for me and I guess I’m not the only one. They were happy. Chloe believed for the first time after a very long time that she can be happy and she definitely deserved that after all the things she had to go through. The dark room scene, the actual ending scene is just messed up. I really hoped that I could see more of these two. I don’t want to rant about this, really. And I won’t say that the game sucks. I actually still love the game, I love the characters, I love how mental and emotional problems are depicted. My problem is (as it was with the first season as well) the ending. Nothing else. But let’s just try to sum things up, it’s hella time, LOL.
Rachel and Chloe met when they were most in need for someone. They helped each other out. They both had issues, that’s right, but it doesn’t mean that they are bad for each other. They needed understanding and they could provide it for each other. If you think that there was no Amberprice in the last episode, think again: a relationship is not about making out all the time. There were  hugs and kisses and cuddling up and it’s not necessarily a friendship thing. Think it over. If you still think they are toxic and trash, try to think it over. Most probably you never had issues like them. You should be a little bit more open minded. People with mental and emotional issues are stigmatized everyday. IT HAS TO STOP! Not understanding something can easily lead to bullying and bullying is more than just a little harmful. It can lead to suicide. And if you think that these kind of people are better off dead, the problem is with you. It’s time to think about it...
Anyway, I loved the game overall, generally it was well made, and met almost all my expectations, but the ending... I can’t help it, it’s just FUCKED UP. I’m sorry. I can’t get over it. Deck9 basically went Dontnod about the ending. I hope they are not intending to cut the ties with this. We need more Chloe and Rachel. If not by them, please, anyone. Three years is like a vast time. 
Well guys, that’s it for now, I guess it’s more than enough XD Further questions, comments and anything are more than welcome.
Stay hella, guys!
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