you picked the wrong house, bub

continued from (x)

      ❝ And do what— leave it to you to fix this mess? ❞

       They had been on the road for all of 48 hours and the trail had already run cold, and Mr. — ‘I can smell it’ didn’t seem to be picking up any specific trail. Scott was beginning to wonder how reliable that trait actually was.           Pick your battles Summers, he thought to himself as he decided to reach for a more attainable goal.

"Fine, fine.” he repeated with a compromising, yet aggravated tone as the car motioned towards a gas station up a few feet ahead. “If it’ll help the mood swings—” Logan openly rationalized as they turned left into the rundown gas station instead. No doubt, a sad excuse for a rest stop, but like hell was he about to turn around for Cyclops’s stomach. “We can load up on one of those breakfast burritos, or whatever the hell they call `em.  I didn’t sign on to ‘driving Miss Daisy’.” 

GENERAL

“Can you walk?”

“How did this happen?”

“What the hell happened?”

“I hit my head.”

“Did you hit your head?”

“Can you hear me?”

“Don’t close your eyes, stay awake!”

“Come on, stay with me!”

“No no no no no!”

“You shot me!”

“I didn’t mean to shoot you!”

“You stabbed me!”

“I didn’t mean to stab you!”

“Take the knife out!”

“Don’t take the knife out!”

“It was an accident!”

“That/this wasn’t an accident!”

“That looks broken.”

“I think my leg/arm is broken.”

“That doesn’t look good.”

“Am I going to die?”

“You’re not going to die!”

“Calm down!”

“Don’t panic!”

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me!”

BLOOD

“Are you bleeding?”

“Don’t move, you’re bleeding.”

“Is that blood?”

“Whose blood is that?”

“That’s a lot of blood.”

“Do you know how to get bloodstains out?”

“Why do you know how to get bloodstains out?”

“Damn, I got blood on my shirt.”

“Don’t move, you’re losing blood!”

“I won’t let you bleed out!”

“You have blood on your face.”

“I swear to god, if you get blood on me…”

“What’s your blood type?”

“Why in the hell would you need to know my blood type?”

WOUNDS

“That cut is nasty.”

“You have a massive gash in your arm/leg!’

“Don’t touch it!”

“Don’t move, you’ll only make it worse!”

“I’ll get some bandages.”

“You’re going to need stitches.”

“That looks infected…”

“Did you get bit by something?”

“There’s no exit wound, the bullet is still in you.”

“There’s an exit wound, the bullet went through you.”

AFTERCARE

“How are you feeling?”

“How does it feel?”

“It’s still not healed, but it’s getting there.”

“Let’s go home.”

“I just want to go home.”

“Let’s get you into the bathtub.”

“We need to change your bandages soon.”

“Get some sleep, okay?”

“You need to eat something, you’ve been through a lot today.”

“I’ll check up on you in a bit.”

‘ i don’t feel good.’

‘ get away from me.’

‘ hang on, i’ve got you.’

‘ let’s try and bring that fever down.’

‘ we need to get you warm.’

‘ i’m mad at myself.’

‘ you have to wake up.’

‘ we don’t stop fighting.’

‘ shh, everything’s okay. you’re safe.’

‘ i can’t keep my eyes open.’

‘ you lied to me.’

‘ i thought i could save you.’

‘ you don’t know how to love anything.’

‘ i trusted you and you fucked it up.’

‘ don’t say that. you’re going to be fine.’

‘ no, you don’t get to stand there and pretend a hug makes it all okay.’

‘ i hate you! ’

‘ it hurts inside and you feel alone.’

‘ i can’t do anything right.’

‘ fuck you! ’

‘ hey, don’t be sad. i’m just a little sick.’

‘ you can’t leave me.’

‘ i wanted to make you proud.’

‘ you have to calm down. your heart’s beating way too fast.’

Season 3 and 4’s opening theme song.

Back when I was about 8, this was the coolest song I had on my mp3 (there were no iPods yet).