@peraphysic this means war✨

seen from Poland

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Yemen
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Russia

seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Italy
seen from Türkiye
seen from Yemen
@peraphysic this means war✨
@peraphysic asked ; ‘ all the what - if’s start to haunt you . ’
prompt ; ( accepting )
“All the what – if’s start to haunt you.” A voice from behind him says,
Alex turns, shifting in his seat to get a better look at the man who had spoken, then glances back to the drink he’d been rolling between his hands. He realizes then that he’d been talking aloud to himself. Specifically talking about the possibility of re-doing it all somehow, about ‘what if’ he had done something different. It occurs to him that he’s a lot of drinks in and maybe shouldn’t reply, but he’s also a lot of drinks in and not really thinking clearly, so what’s the harm that could come in talking to a dashing stranger who seemed to appear out of nowhere?
“Okay but what if you’re already being haunted?” Alex asks, sounding genuinely curious, taking a drink from the subpar . . . whatever was in the glass and cringing slightly at the bitter taste before continuing, “Have you already passed the line of no return when it comes to what – ifs? Y’know, if the hauntings have started.” A pause, before he mumbles, “Theoretical hauntings of course. All theory.” He has a few swallows left in the glass but he’s no longer interested in it, instead angling to face the stranger with an open look of curiosity.
Maybe it’d be good to get someone else’s opinions on this. He’d been stuck in his own head for so long that he could barely make sense of whatever thoughts were being echoed back at him
“ what hideous sin have you committed lately? ”
( ⚔ the princess bride sentence starters ⚔ | still accepting )
Her hand reaches up to mindlessly stroke his cheek, chocolate-covered irises still scanning the party ahead them. “Nothing noteworthy, but it’s only 8pm.” Margo’s slender fingers begin to hesitate amidst his stubble as the gears in her head start to turn, “Why?” She questions eagerly, her petite frame swiftly pivoting on Jimmy Choo’s to face him, now graciously giving Eliot her undivided attention. “---You got some good ideas?”