send me a * and an url and my muse will talk about that muse whilst drunk
"Sherlock Holmes. Big, bad, scary detective. He’ll bring you to your knees and then make you feel like you’re an inch tall. Sometimes I wonder why he hangs around with the likes of me. Maybe I’m just an experiment. Maybe opposite attracts.
Brilliant lover, he is, once I didn’t walk for days—
But really, I love this stupid asshole. Even if he doesn’t come home at night and I’m sure he’s off with The Woman that is so much better than me, clearly.
Because he treats me like a princess and a warrior and a call-girl and his wife, and sometimes, like I’m a case he can’t solve. I’m not special, but I think I’ve fooled him into thinking so.
Stupid man keeps loving me. He’s so sweet, but I think he’s broken. Do you know what it’s like to love a broken boy?”
She paused for a moment, staring at the empty glass, as if it had told her the world’s secrets, her smile fading.
"One day my broken boy is going to turn into a man and he’s gonna stop playing games with little girls who drink like the grown ups but cry when she’s alone at night.
My stupid, broken boy. He doesn’t need me, really. He’s got John, and he’s got his brother, and we’re all just games in the end to him.”