#and addicted to the knife she need a little help with the agony

[dogramagra-and-destruction]

zydrate comes in a little glass vial!!!

a little glass vial?

[hella1975]

if everytime you walked into a room a song started playing and you could pick it, which one would you choose?

me being me it changes daily but today im gonna say zydrate anatomy bc that has been in my head for fucking HOURS

[gh0stgr1nder]

zydrate anatomy is forever rotating around in my head

[shittykinaesthetics]

Shitty Amber Sweet aesthetic: so let’s say hypothetically that amber sweet is addicted to the knife. allow me to reiterate: for the sake of the argument, amber sweet is addicted to the knife. so then logically it would follow that she would need a little help with the agony, right? so now that we’ve established that, let’s say that help comes in the form of a little glass vial--

[jackpotgirl]

Chenford ❤️ + this isn't one of your pranks

Tim said it and hurt/comfort or angst! 🥰

This is inspired by the press release for episode 5. It ended up more a sick-fic. So Physical!hurt/comfort. I hope that's okay with you, nonnie :)

***

His whole body ached. That's the thing they don't tell you about gunshot wounds. If the projectile hits the right, or better the wrong spot, the pain radiates through your bones like a laser, obliterating everything in its path and setting it aflame.

It was that damn old injury again, that one graze shot he had caught when he was barely out of police training that he always claimed hadn't been more than a bee sting when it happened. Most days that was even true, but sometimes he'd sit wrong or bump into something or fall or get punched just in the right, or better the wrong spot, and it would throw him headfirst into a world of pain.

His head spun, the impact of the fall he had taken pursuing a suspect on foot had subsided but the pain was crushing and he hated to admit it, but he didn't think he'd be able to get up on his own.

The humiliation only got worse when Thorsen caught up with him, tried to help him get back on his feet and couldn't carry him two steps before Tim winced and froze on the spot like a laming horse . He hadn't had an episode like this in forever. Thorsen was gracious enough not to comment on how long it took to get Tim back into the shop but he also wouldn't take no for an answer calling Tim an ambulance. This was ridiculous and if Tim wasn't half mad with agony, he would have put up more of a fight.

But as it was, he ended up in hospital for a check up and returned home with Angela, the order for strict bedrest and a small bottle full of opiods. She helped him walk half-upright, half-crouching to his couch, deposited him there and asked him if he'd be alright.

He groaned, flinching at a new wave of pain but nodded. Still, when Angela wanted to hand him his painkillers, he swatted them away, shaking his head. He wouldn't mess with that stuff. He knew the toll it could take, knew the slippery slope and what opiod addiction made out of people. He had seen enough folks waste away on Skid Row to want to stay far far away from that shit.

"I'll make do with Ibuprofen, thank you," he said and Angela frowned at him.

"I'll have Lucy come by, check on you later," she said eventually, relenting.

"Please don't," he winced and thought he might actually die if Lucy saw him like this.

"I don't think I could keep her away if I tried," Angela said and tilted her head. "You know she's probably already sharpening her knifes to prepare the 'Get-Well-Soon'-Charcuterie-board."

"Well, I can't get off this couch to let her in anyway," he huffed.

"Oh Tim, Tim, Tim," Angela sing-songed, smirking devilishly. "You know that I'll happily hand over your house keys."

"Angela!" He warned but she just left, laughing.

And sure enough, as the sun began to set and Tim deliberated peeing his pants over getting up and fighting for his life on the way to the bathroom, his front door opened and Lucy let herself in. She was carrying a comically large baskett full of goodies and he was pretty sure he actually did spot a Charcuterie board among the assorted gifts.

“Hey,” she said and smiled brightly and it hurt, not just because everything hurt.

She hadn’t looked at him like that in weeks.

“Heard you might be in need of a nurse,” she quipped and set down the basket. “I brought you a little something-something to lift your spirits.”

Tim fought a new wave of nausea, tried to hide it, but Lucy, ever perceptive, picked up on it immediately.

“Can I help you?” She asked, making her way over to the couch and hovering by the end of it.

Tim wanted to die - but he did actually need help and although he cringed at himself and couldn’t actually open his eyes as he said it, he had to: “Matter-of-fact, I need to use the bathroom.”

“Oh,” Lucy said. An excrutiating pause. Tim clamped his eyes shut. “Of course,” said Lucy. 

Next thing he knew, Tim had to open his eyes to see where he was going because Lucy was practically manhandling him, surprisingly strong for such a slender person. She lifted him off the couch and had him on his feet in record time and he bit his cheek trying to keep from moaning pain. And managed, at least until they’d almost reached the bathroom.

The coconut-scent of her hair right under his nostrils was almost enough to distract him from his woes but only almost. 

“Ahh,” he hissed, when he put his weight onto his right foot wrong and felt her arm tighten around his side, shooting a different kind of jolt of electricity through his body that settled in the pit of his stomach and mixed in weirdly with his general discomfort. 

“You okay?”

“Hm-hm, yeah,” he bit out and grabbed the doorframe of the bathroom. “I got it from here, be right out.”

Tim closed the door and pushed himself along the wall to sit down on the toilet after having shoved his pants and underwear down his legs with some effort. He was bewildered by the fact that he managed to get half-hard just then, just through a few moments of proximity, despite everything hurting. He had to wait a second to settle down before he could pee but once he did, he allowed himself to savour the brief relief. It was going to be so embarressing when he got out of there again.

“Um, so, I called Ashley,” Lucy said from behind the door as soon as he’d flushed.

And apparently it could get pretty embarrassing in there just as easily. Fuck.

“I wanted to know if I could bring anything in particular you needed and I assumed she’d be here,” Lucy continued and then seemed to fizzle out because Tim already knew what Ashley would have told her. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, trying hard to form a coherent sentence as he quickly washed his hands. “We kind of broke up. A while ago.”

He pulled himself together and further toward the door by the handle and pushed it down to open it to find Lucy waiting on the other side, looking up at him quizzically. 

“So,” she started. “Since I got tomorrow off, I thought I could keep you company and see that you git everything you need.”

“Won’t Chris mind you being gone?” Tim heard himself ask before he could stop his stupid mouth from speaking.

“I don’t think he cares at this point,” she replied after a moment, her eyes downcast.

Oh. Oh, this was dangerous. 

Tim knew immediately. He didn’t really have to ask. He did it anyway.

“Did you guys...?”

“Hm. Yeah,” Lucy nodded at her shoelaces. “A while ago.” 

She fell silent and Tim thought of a million things to say but she cut him off -physically, too, becasue she reached around his waist again and dragged him on.

“Let’s get you horizontal again,” she declared and dragged him on - not back to the sofa but in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh yeah, this was going to be very dangerous. Nothing would happen of course, because Tim could barely move and he was in a lot of pain. But now that they’d both said it... that they were both single, all of the unspoken things that had built up between them since Las Vegas and after, crashed back into their midst like a third presence.

Lucy gently but assuredly helped him get down onto the bed and onto his bed and then she stood there for a second, a little lost as to how to proceed. He couldn’t help her. At once, he felt like a thirteen year old boy on his first date. 

She was in his bedroom. Lucy was in his bedroom and his dick was beginning to stand to attention again, ever resilient. He shifted uneasily and she cleared her throat.

“I’m gonna get you a glas of water,” she said and then dissappeared down the hall.

Tim let his head fall into his pillow and stared at his ceiling. Everything ached still, but now in more ways than one. He wished his brain wasn’t as foggy from everything, wished he could have an actual conversation. Because a world of complications but also promise and opportunity had just opened up for him, yet he felt like he didn’t have the capacity to deal with it right now. 

Lucy returned quietly and set down a glass of water beside him on the bedside table.

“I’ll let you get some rest, I’ll be in the living room, catch up on some Drag Race,” she said and turned on her heel.

“Lucy,” Tim sighed before he could think better of it. “Stay. Just lie with me for a while, yeah?”

Lucy didn’t say anything. But she did round the bed and laid down next to him and together, they both stared up at his non-descript white plastered ceiling.

Finally, after an age (or two to three minutes), Lucy spoke.

“I broke up with Chris,” she said quietly. “Because I have feelings for you.” Tim held his breath, couldn’t help it, really. “And I know that it’s complicated and that I was your rookie and you outrank me and that might look weird. And eventhough I’m no longer your go-fer, you’re still my superior and we might as well ride together again some day... I don’t want things to be weird or difficult for you but I know, I know there’s something between us and if I’ve learned one thing during this whole Rosalind-mess, it’s that life is short and I think we owe it to ourself to at least be honest with each other. If it can’t happen, fine. But I can’t keep pretending that I don’t think about you... every second of everyday since Las Vegas. Since before, really, if we do decide to be honest for once...”

Lucy stopped and fell silent. And for once, Tim’s various aches faded into the background of his mind. Everything she just said took him completely out of his body. One, because he had been waiting for weeks on end to hear her say it and two, because he heard her say it before.

“This isn’t one of your pranks, is it?” He asked and a part of him was legitimately scared that she would start giggling and turn it all around on him yet.

But instead she rolled onto her side and he did the same, eventhough he was shaking with a bout of fresh agony he did his damndest to push down.

“I’m completely, desperately serious,” she confessed, her eyes swimming in a way that made him cup her cheek on instinct. “I’m pahetically in love with you, Tim.”

He shook his head, despite the searing pain the movement caused. “Not pathetic. Not at all.”

“No?” She looked so fragile but at once blazing, like a battle angel, unbreakable yet soft and so, so beautiful.

“I want to kiss you so badly right now,” he admitted, barely louder than a whisper. “But I think my body can’t handle anything more tonight. I think I might actually die.”

Lucy chuckled and he could tell it surprised her herself. “Well then we should get you back to health as fast as possible.”

Fuck, he loved her. He loved her so goddamn much. With his whole guarded, fenced-off heart. She was everything.

“Or you know, we try it anyway,” he murmured. “No way I’d rather go out.”

And with the last of his strength, he pushed forward and kissed her, and when she kissed him back, he swore he couldn’t feel anything but the pressure of her lips, the taste of her tongue, and her feelings sneaking around his body.

It was true, if he died like that, on the spot, it would have been worth it.

[itz-alaine-12]

(tw mentions of firearms and knives, no they don't have bullets in them please don't worry non are actually being actively used I'm doing my best to tag and tw this correctly I swear I'm not insensitive I'm just stupid) [OOC: ok scenario here, Astra would be explaining some fucked up experiments she does to people who deserve it or are already sentenced with death, and she'd be explaining one and she'd say "Zydrate comes in a little glass vial. A little glass vial. And the little glass vial goes into the gun like a battery. And the zydrate gun goes somewhere against your anatomy. And when the gun goes off, it sparks And you're ready for surgery! Surgery! And this one is addicted to the knife. Addicted to the knife? Addicted to the knife. And addicted to the knife, She needs a little help with the agony. And a little help comes in a little glass vial In a gun pressed against her anatomy. And when the gun goes off, she is ready for surgery. Surgery!" and the other students are just listening intensely, and professor p, yes I refuse to say his last name, is just like "this one is insane. she's one of my favorite students now." also this is Astra if I haven't shown her yet]

erm guys??-

[madscientistic]

☆ And, addicted to the knife, she needs a little help with the agony!

- bennett / he/him

artist

metalhead

really annoying about source games

@ madscientiistic on twitter whocares

interests (bolded are main)

- half-life series

- hlvrai

- rain world

- the venture brothers

- lupin III

- metalocalypse

- motorcity

- team fortress 2 (kind of)

- insects and sea creatures

+ other stuff that isn’t important

art tag: #dot png

scribbles and stuff: #dot not finished

byf:

i struggle in social settings and i may not respond to a dm (although i try to) and it doesn’t mean i dont want you to dm me, im just shy

talk to me if you need something tagged (*that i haven’t been tagging)

im an adult please behave

[plaguebitchdraws]

🎶and amber sweet is addicted to the knife. Addicted to the knife? Addicted to the knife. And addicted to the knife she needs a little help with the agony. And a little help comes in a little glass vial in a gun pressed against her anatomy and when the gun goes off Ms sweet is ready for surgery 🎶

[fakeboitherottengirl]

And addicted to the knife she needs a little help with the agony

[lost-pet-city]

Repo! Definitely does not fuck as hard as I wish it did, however I will say the line "And addicted to the knife- she needs a little help with the agony" specifically fucks SO hard

[gh0stgr1nder]

[I CANT FEEL NOTHIN AT ALL...]

DRUG MARKET, SUB MARKET, SOMETIMES I WONDER WHY I EVER GOT IN. BLOOD MARKET, LOVE MARKET, SOMETIMES I WONDER WHY THEY NEED ME AT ALL!

ZYDRATE COMES IN A LITTLE GLASS VIAL.

A LITTLE GLASS VIAL?

A LITTLE GLASS VIAL.

AND THE LITTLE GLASS VIAL GOES INTO THE GUN LIKE A BATTERY.

AND THE ZYDRATE GUN GOES SOMEWHERE AGAINST YOUR ANATOMY.

AND WHEN THE GUN GOES OFF, IT SPARKS, AND YOURE READY FOR SURGERY! [SURGERY!]

GRAVEROBBER, GRAVEROBBER, SOMETIMES I WONDER WHY I EVEN BOTHER. GRAVEROBBER, GRAVEROBBER, SOMETIMES I WONDER WHY I NEED YOU AT ALL!

AND AMBER SWEET IS ADDICTED TO THE KNIFE.

ADDICTED TO THE KNIFE?

ADDICTED TO THE KNIFE.

AND ADDICTED TO THE KNIFE, SHE NEEDS A LITTLE HELP WITH THE AGONY. [AGONY!]

AND A LITTLE HELP COMES IN A LITTLE GLASS VIAL, IN A GUN PRESSED AGAINST HER ANATOMY.

AND WHEN THE GUN GOES OFF, MS. SWEET IS READY FOR SURGERY. [SURGERY!]

[GRAVEROBBER, GRAVEROBBER, SOMETIMES I WONDER WHY I NEED YOU AT ALL...

ITS CLEAN, ITS CLEAR, ITS PURE- ITS WHAT? ITS RARE. IT TAKES YOU THERE. IT WHAT?IT TAKES YOU THERE. IT TAKES YOU THERE! A LITTLE JUMP, BEFORE THE CUT! WHY AGONIZE? ANESTHETIZE! I CANT FEEL NOTHIN AT ALL! CAUSE SURGERY, CAUSE SURGERY? CAUSE SURGERY... IS WHAT SHE NEEDS... IS WHAT I NEED? ITS WHAT I NEED. TO CHANGE INSIDE. TO CHANGE INSIDE? TO FEEL ALIVE!]

MAGS CONTRACTS GOT SOME MIGHTY FINE PRINT.

[SOME MIGHTY FINE PRINT...]

AND THAT MIGHTY FINE PRINT PUTS MAG IN A MIGHTY FINE PREDICAMENT...

IF MAG UP AND SPLITS, HER EYES ARE FORFEIT

AND IF GENECO AND ROTTI SO WILL IT,

THEN A REPO MAN WILL COME AND SHE'LL PAY FOR THAT SURGERY, SURGERY!

[SURGERY, SURGERY!]

[I CANT FEEL NOTHIN AT ALL...]

[faineant-girl]

whatever. amber sweet is addicted to the knife. addicted to the knife? (addicted to the knife) and addicted the knife she needs a little help with the agony.

[music-in-my-veins14]

And addicted to the knife, She needs a little help with the agony. And a little help comes in a little glass vial In a gun pressed against her anatomy. And when the gun goes off, Ms. Sweet is ready for surgery.

[lonesuperhero]

Lowkey the lyrics from Zydrate Anatomy, specifically the:

"And amber sweet is addicted to the knife. Addicted to the knife? Addicted to the knife. And addicted to the knife, She needs a little help with the agony."

Is such a vibe and lowkey heavily relate to it.

[s1eepy-0]

Zydrate Anatomy(Song by Alexa PenaVega, Paris Hilton, and Terrance Zdunich) is such a great song hiusgx

"Zydrate comes in a little glass vial.

A little glass vial?

A little glass vial.

And the little glass vial goes into the gun like a battery.

Hhh-hhh...

And the zydrate gun goes somewhere against your anatomy.

Hhh-hhh...

And when the gun goes off, it sparks And you're ready for surgery!

Surgery!"

"And amber sweet is addicted to the knife.

Addicted to the knife?

Addicted to the knife.

And addicted to the knife, She needs a little help with the agony. And a little help comes in a little glass vial In a gun pressed against her anatomy.

And when the gun goes off, Ms. sweet is ready for surgery."

"Mag's contract's got some mighty fine print.

Some mighty...fine...print...

And that mighty fine print puts mag in a mighty fine predicament... If mag up and splits, her eyes are forfeit And if geneco and rotti so will it, Then a repo man will come And she'll pay for that surgery, surgery!"

Just my favorite parts jdisfs

[politeparadox]

so let’s say hypothetically that amber sweet is addicted to the knife. allow me to reiterate: for the sake of the argument, amber sweet is addicted to the knife. so then logically it would follow that she would need a little help with the agony, right? so now that we’ve established that, let’s say that help comes in the form of a little glass vial

then, hypothetically, we can assume that, *when* the gun goes off, She will, assuredly, be ready for surgery.