#rathwiire

[cantswiim-blog1]

@rathwiire

Negan: breathes  Ellie: I will FUCK you up 

[wasnothin]

PRETTY PLEASE be one of my soldiers.

you beggin’ now ?     no.

[deadtape-blog]

rick & charlie @ negan: bitch u better not

negan:  ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

@honeydrawl & @rathwiire

[takenpeace]

rathwiire replied to your post: Negan: FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK FUCKAROO  paul: ...

… fuck

👀👀 you wanna go? 

[vviind]

` * rathwiire 

@vviind​ let my whistles sooth you to sleep

[carnagemoved]

‘ usually, i’m a little spotty when it comes to reading people’s auras and shit but goddamn you’re just full of darkness aren’t you? ‘ 

@rathwiire​

[igottabe]

»       STARTER       !

        ❝ jus' to clear things up, I ain't here 'cause I wanna be ❞, Daryl remarks without hesitation. if it were up to him he'd NEVER have to see Negan again. but he's here for another reason ; they need him, now more than ever before. sitting in a cell isn't enough anymore and as far as Daryl heard, he has proven to be a DIFFERENT man than he was a few years ago. ❝ Michonne told ya' what's happenin' out there. we need yer' help. ❞

        —       @rathwiire

[galaeus]

@rathwiire​ asked: “Okay, okay. I see what’s happening. You’re face to face with greatness, and it’s strange. You don’t even know how you feel. It’s adorable!”

           WORDY. The ones who have a lot to say tend to be the ones who don’t last too long, though with the way he carries that bat may be an indication that experience? Isn’t everything. He holds himself like a survivor, confident and proud ------- it’s the same swagger she bullshits with the Salty Dogs back at the marina when they’re rationing the scrap of whatever she’s scavenged throughout the week. ( She’d claim it’s a miracle that those dumb fucks were still alive on their yachts, but quite frankly, Echo Galaeus was their miracle. )

Situating the strap of her rifle against her shoulder, she squints some between the shoulder of his jacket to his face once, twice, before deciding the third can stay somewhere between his nose and forehead; never a direct gaze. Something tells her that someone who’s willing to talk to strangers going after the same loot probably aren’t the type of rabids to make eye contact with.

                “------------yeah, let’s call it facin’ greatness and make a deal, alright? You take that half the store, I take the other. You never see my face again. THAT GOOD WITH YOU?”