#be it hell

[alexwritesit]

Just like we promised

À Mark,

Dans le tourbillon incessant de la vie, où chaque instant est un fil dans le tissu complexe de notre existence, nous nous trouvons souvent égarés dans les courants du changement. Ces courants nous ont façonnés, transformés, et parfois même éloignés l'un de l'autre. Pourtant, au cœur de ce flux perpétuel, nos souvenirs partagés et nos promesses demeurent, des phares inébranlables dans la brume du temps.

Notre histoire, Mark, est un récit toujours en cours d'écriture, une symphonie inachevée de moments et de mémoires. Nos chemins se sont croisés, se sont éloignés, puis se sont à nouveau entrelacés, un ballet de destinées qui nous a menés ici, à ce chapitre de notre vie.

Cinq années se sont écoulées, et maintenant, je te regarde, assis sur le canapé, jouant avec Anastasia, la préparant tendrement pour le sommeil. Ton sourire, empreint d'une chaleur véritable, brille dans la douce lumière du soir – un contraste frappant avec celui, autrefois forcé, dont la raison m'échappe encore. Ce sourire, authentique et plein d'amour, me rappelle la profondeur et la sincérité de ce que nous avons reconstruit ensemble.

Chaque jour passé, chaque épreuve surmontée, chaque joie partagée, a tissé la trame de notre histoire commune – une histoire marquée par la résilience, l'amour et la transformation. Nos vies, intimement liées, racontent une saga d'amour, de croissance et de renaissance.

Ce soir, alors que je t'observe avec notre fille, je suis envahie par une gratitude immense. La vie nous a offert une seconde chance, une opportunité de redécouvrir et de réaffirmer l'amour que nous partageons. Dans le silence apaisant de notre foyer, je réalise combien notre voyage ensemble est précieux et unique.

À toi, Mark, mon compagnon de vie, mon confident, mon ami. Notre amour, une constante à travers les tempêtes de la vie, est le socle sur lequel nous avons bâti notre présent et notre avenir.

Pour toujours et à jamais, dans chaque univers et dans chaque ligne temporelle, je t'aime, Mark, et je suis heureuse de pouvoir t'appeler mon mari.

Avec tout mon amour,

Alexander.

The moment I glimpsed you, nestled behind towering stacks of paperwork in the chaotic embrace of your office, a curious sensation stirred within me. Shadows played across the cluttered desk as the relentless ring of your phone punctuated the air, a discordant symphony to your rhythmic signing of documents. Was it a spark of love igniting at first sight, or a wistful melancholy seeping into my soul?

Years had lapsed into decades since our last encounter, and time had sculpted you anew. There you were, a mature man, your shoulders bearing the weight of youthful worries in a world indifferent to your struggles. As you concluded your task and surrendered to the insistent call, your voice unfurled into the room - smooth as velvet, warm as a glowing ember, sweet as the richest honey. But in that voice, I heard a stranger, not the person I once knew.

Peering through the translucent barrier of the glass doors, my gaze found you, yet perceived a stranger. A tide of uncertainty swelled in my chest—had I mistaken you for another? Could I confuse you, the one whose eyes once soothed the fiercest tempests, with someone else? The one who wore the remnants of youthful trials like badges of honor—could such a soul be so easily mistaken? What began as a mundane errand, delivering documents to this local office, unexpectedly plunged me into introspection.

There, I witnessed your smile during the call, a gesture devoid of its genuine essence. It was a masquerade, a hollow imitation. In that moment, I realized the stark truth: the person before me bore your visage, but he was not You, the one I remembered.

Rooted in the doorway, a statue of indecision, I lingered, watching you, a silent observer waiting for the moment you would conclude your call. Yet, within me, a restless current urged me forward, propelled by an invisible force. You remained oblivious to my presence, your focus divided between the relentless scribbling on the documents before you and the conversation on the phone, all under the guise of that insincere smile. A question echoed in my mind, piercing the quietude of my confusion: Who was the target of your deception?

Was it me, a mere spectator to this uncharacteristic charade? Or was the performance tailored for the unseen participant on the other end of the line?

As the call drew to a close, you finally lifted your gaze. Your eyes, once brimming with life, now seemed hollow, devoid of the spark that once defined you. They met mine, yet it felt as though you were looking through me, into a void. In that moment, a poignant realization dawned upon me: the person before me was a far cry from the You I had once known.

Time, the relentless sculptor, alters us all, but with you, it was different. It wasn’t merely the passage of years that had reshaped you; it was something more profound, more elusive. You hadn’t simply been changed by time; you had been transformed by experiences unknown to me, experiences that had extinguished the light in your eyes and replaced it with an unfamiliar, distant gaze. The You I remembered seemed lost, perhaps forever, in the labyrinth of life’s unrelenting twists and turns.

Your voice broke the silence, inquiring my name, and I obliged, offering it to you like a relic from our shared past. You paused, a flicker of something unrecognizable crossing your face as you glanced at my document. A chuckle escaped your lips, tinged with disbelief or perhaps irony. Was it so hard for you to believe that I was the same person from your memories?

“I’m sorry, you have the same name and surname as an old friend,” you remarked, your words slicing through the air, laden with a casual dismissal. Those words lingered, heavy with implications. To you, was I merely an echo of a past connection, relegated to the realm of ‘just an old friend’? The simplicity of your statement belied the complexity of emotions it stirred within me, a poignant reminder of the distance that time and change had wedged between us.

Your words, seemingly innocuous, stung with an unintended insult. Indeed, I had transformed, no longer the carefree young girl who once frolicked alongside you in the park, who scaled trees with the fearless abandon of youth, who gleefully accepted oranges from the kindly old lady at number 32. Those days, imbued with innocence and laughter, seemed like fragments of another lifetime.

Was it my metamorphosis that rendered me unrecognizable to you, or was it your own profound change, morphing into a mere shell of the person I once knew? I grappled with these thoughts, a blend of indignation and sadness swirling within me. Change is the only constant, they say, yet the divergence of our paths had led us to this poignant juncture—a place where familiarity was overshadowed by the unfamiliarity of what we had become.

“Well,” I began, my voice steady as I endeavored to mask the turbulence within, “I did change a lot, so I guess you wouldn’t recognize me.”

As those words escaped my lips, a gentle smile graced your face, seemingly brushing aside the gravity of my admission. You continued with your task, your hand moving with practiced ease as you signed off on the document. But then, as you were about to add your final signature, I noticed a moment of hesitation. You clicked your pen twice, a nervous tic that time hadn’t erased. Some habits, it seems, are impervious to the ravages of years.

Your eyes, magnified behind the lenses of square glasses, finally met mine with a depth that was unmistakably familiar. It was a gaze that transported me back in time, to the boy I once knew, the boy who had remained etched in the recesses of my memory. In that fleeting exchange, the years seemed to peel away, revealing a glimpse of the past that still lived within you.

As my name resonated through the air, your voice breaking the office’s everyday hum, it felt like a crack in the universe. You didn’t just say it; you declared it, with a fervor that turned heads throughout the administration. The desk that had served as your fortress was no barrier for you now. You leaped over it, a sudden burst of emotion propelling you forward.

Your embrace enveloped me, a tangible memory, heavy yet comforting. It was like being wrapped in a blanket woven from nostalgia, but this nostalgia bore a bittersweet edge—tinged with pain and sorrow, rather than pure, blissful happiness. In that moment, reintroducing myself seemed the most natural thing to do, a bridge across the chasm of years and changes.

As I stood there, encased in your arms, I couldn’t help but wonder about the paths not taken. If I hadn’t spoken up, would I have turned and walked away, leaving behind another memory devoid of a proper farewell? Would I have returned to a city that once echoed with our laughter, now just a cold canvas against which our past played out?

In my contemplation, I thought of the multiverse, a tapestry of endless possibilities. In that vast expanse of ‘what ifs,’ I found a comforting thought. Perhaps, in every reality woven into that infinite tapestry, there is a version of us, an Alex and a Mark, forever finding their way back to each other, no matter the distance or the changes that life brings. In every universe, every story, every possibility, I hoped that our counterparts would always find their way home—to each other.

#A love letter to you #And in every universe #be it hell #heaven #or something inbetween #I will still find a way to find you #and I will find still find a way to find you oranges #you love so much #and peel them for you

[mias-back-from-the-dead]

tbh i think the funniest phenomena that's been happening in the last couple years is "youtuber, having gone too deep into the research hole, has been made an investigative journalist against their will"

#like im not gonna name names but i can think of at least 3 channels #where they stopped posting short form content and went #wait the patreon is paying my rent im no longer a slave to the algorithm gods #HELL YEAH TIME TO SPEND 5+ MONTHS PUTTING TOGETHER A 3+ HOUR VIDEO #and i eat that shit up every time

[dio7r]

#this is what makes us girls #girlblog #hyper feminine #girl interrupted syndrome #lizzy grant #black swan #divine feminine #female hysteria #girlblogging #tumblr girls #2014 tumblr #just girly things #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #hell is a teenage girl #just girly thoughts #girlhood #just girly posts

[gaybichon]

this is cute but also i like to think the pope has to preface every single statement with "this isn't dogma but" like he has to break character for a sec and clarify that he's not speaking ex cathedra

#hell is empty everything is beautiful and nothing hurt ♥️

[raychleadele]

“Why did you follow this person ? uwu”

I’ve been here for fourteen years, do you think I remember? I don’t know who any of these people are anymore. I don’t know why they’re on my dash. I allow them to stay because they haven’t pissed me off enough to unfollow them yet. “Why did you follow this person?” I’m not sure I ever did. They’re just part of my ecosystem now.

#tungle dot hell #I saw a poll where ‘idk’ wasn’t an option

[lesbianwithchainsaws]

Found this really scary new horror game yall should check out. It's called indeed.com and it has a sequel called linkedin

#it is hell on earth out here #got like 6 different rejection emails today #so much fun /sarcasm #job hunting

[shigure]

hello. if you thought this post was entertaining please download and play this game my friends made. they're smarter and funnier than i am and everything i do is a commercial for their hard work

i can't delete the poll

send post

#POST #whatever. #pp #please play proverbs of hell

[rhulksdiscordkitten]

HELLO ?

#temuapp #creature posting #what the hell

[wynsvre]

i <3 menial tasks. for srs.

#can i get a hell yeah #my art #samposting

[lesbianralzarek]

"life doesnt get better, you just get stronger" does NOT include ages 11-17. life does in fact just get better from there. those years are dogshit. like, you do get stronger but its mostly just a factor of not being 11-17 anymore. positive thinking helps but it doesnt fix whatevers going on at 15, you have to brute force through that one raw

#i originally posted this as just a 'hey remember how fuckin bad middle/highschool was? shit was wild' type post but now #there are a bunch of teens in the notes being like 'oh my god are you serious? it gets better? im not stuck in hell forever??' #and im reminded that the only people who told teenage ella 'it gets better' were speakers at mental health assemblies #aka the least relatable people alive who were seemingly born to lie to you #so. uh. yeah im a certified adult who isnt here to lie or sugarcoat the realities of being a teenager #the only thing more certain than the pain is the transcience

[nuclear-smash]

I think this might be my new magnum opus

#just submitted my grad film im actually free from animating hell so we're so back in the art business babyyyyyyyy #garfield #my art #garfposting #jon arbuckle #trans

[barblaz-arts]

They forgot to tell him

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #he probably felt lonely about being the only angel in hell huh #my art

[shoomlah]

I have a feeling that beneath the little halo on your noble head There lies a thought or two the devil might be interested to know You're like the finish of a novel that I'll finally have to take to bed You fascinate me so

You Fascinate Me So, Blossom Dearie

#good omens #gomens #good omens s2 #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #my art #made with stolen time over the course of two extremely busy months but I'm so glad its done #Aziraphale's reading a first folio obviously #cones of dunshire voice: it's about the DETAILS #extremely excited to introduce everyone to this song about DEEPLY YEARNING for someone who annoys the hell out of you #its a banger

[bumblebeebats]

"Don't just throw ripped jeans away, you can repair them using these 10 cute Visible Mending techniques!!" unfortunately my friend the first point of failure for every single pair of jeans i have owned in my life has been the Crotch and Ass. Knees: fine, cuffs: fine; but 3 years in, and all that stands between the world and my astronaut-patterned taint is 0.5µm of denim worn so thin that every squat threatens to tear it to shreds like wet toilet paper. If the Tiktok craft community could figure out a way to resurrect jeans afflicted in such a way that doesn't involve adding a whole ass buttpatch like some sort of inverse assless chaps situation then that'd be great

#and yes i have indeed experimented with trying to add invisible patches on the INSIDE of the jean but unfortunately #trying to sew anything to the non-euclidean hellscape that is the crotch area of a pair of pants #inevitably ends up 1. (hand-sewing) puckered as hell or 2. (machine sewing) w me accidentally sewing a leg hole closed 😔

[flouryhedgehog]

Turning off the reblogs on this. At the time I wrote it, it felt like what I needed to say. There's not as much activity on the post now, but when there is, I feel...sort of hollow. We're so far past the point where this even means anything.

Y'all remember "cops aren't supposed to kill guilty people, either", right?

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to die beneath the rubble of their homes.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to be shot with expanding bullets that cause massive tissue damage leading to amputation.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to have their flesh burned away with white phosphorous.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve their fishing boats blown up.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to see their husbands and fathers executed in front of them along evacuation routes.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve an anonymous phone call threatening to destroy their lives and families.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to be detained for years without charges.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to be tortured, starved, and sexually assaulted in prison.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to be deprived of water.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve their olive trees to be uprooted while they look on.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve sixteen years of blockade.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to be prevented from traveling for lifesaving medical care.

Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve this genocide.

#like obviously we're right to talk about innocent palestinians #but also #there is no guilt any palestinian could possibly carry as an individual #and sure as hell no guilt that could attach to palestinians collectively #that justifies any of this

[typicalbrainchaos]

Even drug dealers are boycotting❤️❤️❤️

#gaza #fucking hell #free palestine #gazaunderattack #free gaza #gaza strip #palestine #save gaza #freepalastine🇵🇸 #idf #isreal