whatshouldwecallme:

When I’m not high drunk:

When I am:

I’m trying to not let this affect our friendship, but it’s so damn hard.

    She smiled among the wildflowers, the sunlight bright on her dark hair, her eyes warm and young. So that she might never feel a moment of sadness, her mother called forth the sun, pulled in the spring, and fields all across the land burst with life, bountiful and fertile in the wake of her happiness. Fertile, too, was love inside the heart of the one they called Hades. Composed of death and built from ice, his heart could nonetheless bleed like any mortal’s and he lost his when he saw her laughing among the flowers. He had no charms to win her, no goods to offer her, none of the light and gaiety that she loved so much, but he had power. And so in his despair he pulled and pulled at the earth until the very ground gave away beneath her feet and she fell into the abyss of Hell. Into his arms.

—

    As she lay there beneath the world she had loved so much, the earth wilted under her mother’s anguish and her smile grew colder and colder. Bound to her throne by four pomegranate seeds, her eyes hardened into chips of stone, until she was no longer the girl he had fallen in love with. How can a flower bloom in the night? And yet he kept showering her with diamonds and fur, hoping to one day rekindle the warmth in her eyes and spark her lighthearted laughter. Hoping that one day she would learn again to be happy.