#insurgenthal

[womanwithguns-blog]

“Let me sleep.”

            ❛ you’re the one who woke up in a cold sweat, hal. this is the fourth time this week. ❜

[womanwithguns-blog]

CONTINUED FROM HERE.

                 oh, she can easily see right through him, especially when it takes hal a couple of seconds to respond to her little accusation. & she doesn’t even mind the smile that widens just a tad more as she turns to face him.

              ❛ right. just didn’t expect you to act like an eight year old who has a crush on someone for the first time when you went for my hand. that’s all. ❜

[razcrback-blog]

█║ insurgenthal ᴄᴏɴ·ᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ x.

       -------ben. the name sounded familiar, but anything more than a faint recollection wasn’t hitting him. the look in the man’s eyes was hard to read, disbelief, concern. ❛ I haven’t made any jokes, if we’ve met before I’m sorry. I just...don’t ----remember. ❜

[deathlyportent]

☆ Put this star into the inbox of your 5 favourite blogs. It’s time to spread positivity.

i’ll fite u

[deathlyportent]

damn it andreea, my entire blog is you 

[deathlyportent]

"I just want to try something..."

9. pulling them into a slow dance

     When Hal gave a tug on her hand, Lydia had stepped forward somewhat haltingly, pausing now and again until it was clear that he was bringing her close—very close. His arms circled her waist, and as he began to sway from side to side, she couldn’t resist a quiet laugh before she raised her arms to wrap them around his shoulders and follow his lead. 

[deathlyportent]

♡ //but I mean I am not so sure... do you think hal and lydia could ever even interact?

Send ♡ if you’d be interested in discussing a ship between our muses

idk i just don’t see it i’m not interested in rping with you bye 

[deathlyportent]

For almost two weeks, Lydia had managed to avoid any kind of contact with Hal, and the conversation had been almost entirely pushed from her mind. Then, at two in the morning, something changed. Lydia had risen abruptly from her bed, clutching her sheets in her fists and biting down on a scream as a familiar sensation of dread filled her chest like a gaping wound. Someone was gone. 

Three more days had passed since then, filled with late-night crying and pacing, second-guessing and tossing her room in frustration. And all of it had culminated in a single decision. When Hal next left his home, he was greeted by a redhead leaned against his driver’s side door, one hand gripping her purse tightly. Though her tears had dried up hours before, Lydia’s eyes were still rimmed with red beneath her eyeliner.

“We need to talk.”