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Sherlock missed his phone.

He could easily acquire a cheap replacement at any store--and the numbers he'd lost were of no challenge to his memory.  But the difference between the phone he'd cast aside before his fall and some cheap hunk of plastic was that the latter would sho(more)
In the wise word of sir Usher I, "you got it you got it bad, when you're on the phone-- hang up and you call right back."

Seriously though, there may be some truth behind this top-20 song.  When you feel there is no other option but to swallow(more)
God got me bad. That Ass-shit.
Spend all day worshipping and doing His bidding to get into heaven, and he still hasn't bothered letting me rest yet.  

My daddy used to take me flying. Back in the old days, when we were wealthy folk, when we owned th(more)
(TW: gore.)
She hacks, coughs, lungs heaving desperately around the sword imbedded in them. A duel for the ages is ended as blood drips down.
"Sorry, little bro," she wheezes. "He got me bad with that last hit. I guess this is one fight I couldn't win."
The villain(more)
"You... really are an idiot, aren't you."

"No! No! Shut up!"

"I mean, it was the most ridiculously moronic story I could think of, and you totally bought it."

"I just wasn't expecting anything, okay!? I'm not gullible, just off-guard!"

"It's April first!"

I knew it was a benevolent universe from the way it liked to play jokes on me.
"you smell like you're on fire," Jay says, and Finch cannot help but wonder if that's meant as an insult or a compliment. he isn't given any time to think, though, because Jay continues:
"you smell like you're on fire. you smell like autumn and the fresh rain and(more)
Jealousy was something Lovino was used to--it got him bad all the time. Jealous of Feliciano, usually--who else would it be? Antonio? Ha! Who'd be jealous of /that/ oblivious idiot? He even made /Feliciano/ seem intelligent some days. That's not Lovino just being mean because he hates how, despite(more)
I look up to the sky. The rain patters all around me, splashing my face. I suppose Jason was right: allowing myself to get hurt wasn't going to help me. I like it, though. The hurt, the tears, the complete disgust with myself. It's all real and so I(more)
On reflection, it was probably not a good idea for Ludwig to antagonize his captors that much, considering what they had done to his hand.  
However, that was not the problem now. The problem now was that Ludwig was stuck in a tiny room in the bunker, handcuffed to(more)
Ludwig knew there was something wrong with it. Knew that there were much better options for him. Ones that hadn’t just been fucking his brother a week before and ones that weren’t using him to get back at said brother for whatever stupid thing they were arguing about now.(more)
People judge you by the company you keep, and I keep rotten company. It is two o'clock in the morning. I'm laying in bed with my eyes shut trying to trick my body into rest. My sheets may as well be made of burning fire. I do my routine(more)
He got him.

That manipulative, dastardly, manic illusionist got him. On the broken pavement of stone, he laid in blood and rain and tears. He laid on a pedestal of disappointment, shame, loss. He was horrible. They depended on him, and he failed them. He failed them. (more)
Got me good.  Got me right.  Got me sounding like a fucking blight.

Got some sound.  Got some rhythm.  Mix it together and you got some damn can't rhyme shit with that.  Spithm?  Spasm?  Spontaneous orgasm?  Seriously sounding symposiu(more)
Ryan shuffles miserably around the party, hating the nauseating noise, press of people, and strong smell of spirits. He looks desperately over the crowd to see if he can spot his former roommate amid the rumbling crowd and too-loud music. Annoyed, he grits his teeth--he needs the stupid textbook(more)