[richonnesotakuishq]

Help! So I need help finding this Black Panther fanfiction I read 📚! I remember W'kabi had kidnapped Okoye and infected her body with nanites through a forced kiss....so he was able to control her body using a watch. Does anyone know the name of the story. I read it on AO3!!!! It's got me in a chokehold!

[thebookishmd]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

With permission from @richonnnefan, I have uploaded the first 12 chapters of Echoes of Hope to AO3!

[lionheartamelia]

The amount of people that completely misunderstand Michonne in s3 really pisses me off. I just saw a TikTok about how she lost Andre and people in the comments are saying “no wonder she became heartless and violent”

Wtf you are you talking about???

Firstly, everyone had to become violent on some level to survive that world but she wasn’t going around just killing anybody she came across.

Secondly, how on earth was she heartless? She saved Andrea when she could have kept walking, continued to look after her when she was sick, brought Judith her formula and told the group about Maggie and Glenn, looked out for Carl and showed compassion and understanding to Rick. I could go on.

She was quiet and slow to trust and would protect herself from danger but that didn’t mean she was violent and heartless.

[twd-darling]

This is the second sexiest era of Rick

I don’t care, I don’t make the rules

Fight me in the street

[dillie60]

Box Office Buz (@boxofficebuz.com)

Teaser poster for 'The Thomas Crown Affair' starring Michael B. Jordan, Kenneth Branagh, Adria Arjona, Lily Gladstone, Danai Gurira, and Pil

[richonnesotakuishq]

Can't wait to see MBJ and DG!

[pilesofpillows]

Safe || Attoye Drabble

Summary: A quick 300-500 word drabble based on the prompt: Aftermath & Recovery

Tags: Fluff, A Whiff of A Hint of Plot, & a Smidge of Blood Mentioned

~~~

Her body was still shaking.

It was hard to know if it was the adrenaline leaving, or if she was going into shock. Being soaked to the bone probably didn’t help matters.

Consequences of nearly drowning, she supposed.

Her ears were still ringing from the blast, and her heart felt like a herd of wildebeests stampeding through her chest. Her lungs burned for air, but she couldn’t force her mouth open for anything more than a gasp. The shakes took on a violent tremble between one breath and the next, and her teeth began to chatter loudly. She blinked, trying to clear blood and blurriness from her field of vision to no avail.

A hand found her hip, sending a flood of warmth from the point of contact. Another wrapped around her back, pulling her away from the cold steel she’d been trembling against and into a steady, heat-filled embrace. The ringing in her ears began to fade into a jumble of faint murmurs as her surroundings began to orient themselves again. She tried focusing on the voice, brows furrowing as she heard a string of profanity.

“Shitshitshitshitshitshit.”

She felt herself being maneuvered to the floor and bundled into the talking warmth’s arms, curses and questions spilling out in equal measure as they moved.

“Okoye? Can you hear me, in yakunaj?” The voice grew clearer as the tremors began to subside, murmuring a dozen assurances against her forehead. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re gonna get you warmed up, I promise.”

Something just as warm was pressed into her hands, then guided up to her mouth, urging her to drink.

“Drink, mejen, drink.”

She swallowed reflexively, letting the heat and sweet slide down her throat, allowing herself two more guided sips before pulling back. She tried tucking herself further into the warmth surrounding her, only to be met with another string of curses.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Fucking shit!”

Calloused hands cradled her face, drawing her blurry eyes up to a familiar brown gaze.

Attuma.

Attuma, who was using more profanity right now than she’d ever heard him use.

“Chaac and Bast and all the damned heavens, ‘Koye,” he murmured, swiping a gentle hand over her bloody brow. “Ayo’s going to kill me.”

The worried affection in his tone was also something she’d never heard before.

“D-Don’t tell me you’re scared of the General, oh m-mighty Nacom,” she teased, vision finally clearing as he cleaned the blood from her face.

“I promised you wouldn’t get hurt, and you decided to get blown off an aircraft carrier,” he said, still cradling her face like she was something precious. “You’ll have to excuse my wariness in telling her about the three-inch gash across your head.”

Her lips quirked up despite the tremors.

“L-lucky for m-me, you’re a pretty g-good fisherman.”

~finis~

[siancore]

Chapter 6 from the third installment of The Alliance Kingdoms series.

Summary: Attuma soothes Okoye's doubts. Okoye takes matters into her own hands.

Excerpt: It was a wonder that news from a trusted servant reached the Shark Prince before the gossip of others regarding Princess Okoye’s current condition. Attuma found her in her quarters curled up on the bed. She looked at him with sad brown eyes when he entered the chambers.

"My Sweetness?” Attuma asked as he moved toward her and took up a seat.

“I failed,” said Okoye.

A/N: First update for 2026. It's been a while. Enjoy!

[artverso]

David Yardin - Storm

[richonnnefan]

Chapter 12

Rick and Michonne remained in the room, sitting on the sofa locked in each other's arms. Michonne began telling him everything their children had been through, sharing the beautiful moments she had experienced with RJ, Judith, and Carl, adding how deeply she had missed them. Rick jokingly said, "I just hope we don't find ourselves as grandparents when we go back. Like you said, Carl and Enid were together before I disappeared." Michonne laughed, replying that she wouldn’t rule it out at all. They kept talking and sharing stories until sleep finally overcame them.

Michonne was awakened by a sound outside, and so was Rick. Michonne grabbed the nearest object she could use as a weapon, and they both crept toward the peephole to see what was out there. But there was nothing. Even the walkers that had been roaming around were gone. Rick and Michonne exchanged glances, realizing it was the perfect time to leave. They geared up thoroughly, taking anything that could serve as a weapon. They opened the door quietly and headed toward the main exit.It was a bit strange; the walkers weren't as numerous as before—only a few remained."This is weird, isn't it?" Michonne whispered. "Why is the number of walkers alarmingly low?""Do you want them to be everywhere, or what?" Rick replied teasingly.Michonne shot him a serious look. When she realized he was just joking, she said, "Really, Rick? Haven't you noticed how strange this is?""I know, you're right," Rick answered. "But it plays to our advantage, doesn't it?"Michonne conceded, and they kept moving forward, taking down two walkers along the way. Rick took Michonne’s hand and led her toward a yellow Jeep. The car was already unlocked. When they got inside, they found enough fuel to take them all the way back to Alexandria. Overjoyed, they shared a kiss before Rick started the engine. They drove along the road, casually talking and sharing stories.

Rick stopped driving when he noticed several small squirrels. He got out of the car and crept toward them slowly. Michonne did the same once she realized why Rick had pulled over. They moved with extreme caution and utter silence until Rick managed to catch one, and Michonne caught another, while the rest scurried away. They returned to the car with the dead squirrels. This time, Michonne took the wheel.They drove until they found a spot deep inside the woods, where they parked the car and got out. They started a fire and placed the squirrels over it, then split up to scout the area. There were only a few walkers around, which they quickly dispatched before heading back.Sitting by the fire, waiting impatiently for the squirrels to cook, Michonne muttered, "Squirrels..." She burst into laughter and added, "These squirrels remind me of Daryl. Remember? Back then, I started hearing that he was obsessed with hunting squirrels, and he hated it when anyone touched them without his permission."Rick laughed too, and they spent some time reminiscing and joking about Daryl and his squirrels. After a while, the food was ready. Each took a squirrel, and they ate.

Darkness fell, so they put out the fire and got into the car, where they slept until the next morning. Rick woke up to the sound of screaming and someone calling his name. Terrified, he opened his eyes and turned around, only to find that Michonne was not beside him. The voice calling his name grew louder, until he realized it was Michonne's voice. He dashed out of the car, shouting her name and running in all directions like a madman. He stopped to pinpoint the source of the sound; Michonne's screams were agonizing, as if she were being tortured. He rushed toward the sound and found Michonne completely covered in blood, bound, with Beale standing beside her, holding her by her hair. Jadis looked at him and said, "This is your punishment for not listening to me, Rick Grimes.

Suddenly, Rick began hearing Michonne's calm voice calling his name. He jolted awake, terrified. Michonne kept trying to soothe him, and as he regained full consciousness, he pulled her into a hug so tight that she began to complain about the sheer force of it. He pulled back slightly."Was it a bad nightmare?" she asked. "I was trying to wake you up, but you wouldn’t respond."She opened a water bottle she had found in the trunk, splashed a little water on him, and handed it over for him to drink. Rick stepped out of the car, trying desperately to shake off the horrific imagery of his dream. Michonne followed him out, fighting her immense curiosity and choosing not to press him for answers.Rick stood outside, taking a deep breath, with Michonne standing right by his side. Time passed, and once Rick had finally calmed down, Michonne said to him, "I don't want to pry or remind you of whatever you saw in your nightmare, but don't let it get to you. We..." Michonne cupped Rick's face, forcing their eyes to meet, and gently pressed her forehead against his. Rick looked at her and murmured, "Yeah, I know."

He added, "Let's go then." Michonne chose to drive because she didn't like the state Rick was in. Throughout the entire drive, they were enveloped in silence; Rick didn't utter a single word. His mind was entirely consumed by the horrific nightmare, and thoughts of returning to the organization began creeping back into his head. The heavy silence was suddenly shattered by the sound of Michonne swearing as a deer darted across the road. The car swerved violently and crashed into a tree. Fortunately, neither of them was hurt, but from here on out, they would have to continue their journey on foot.

They continued their journey on foot through the woods, taking down a few walkers they encountered along the way. Suddenly, they heard screams and desperate cries for help. Rushing toward the sound, they found a man and a woman surrounded by seven walkers. They stepped in, helped them eliminate the threats, and were quickly thanked by the couple. Rick and Michonne immediately set off again on their way, but they were forced to halt when they heard footsteps trailing behind them.When they turned around, the footsteps stopped."We know someone is there," Michonne called out. "Show yourselves."A moment later, the man and woman they had just saved emerged from the shadows. They begged to tag along. Initially, Rick and Michonne refused, but Michonne eventually agreed, imposing strict conditions. The first rule was that they were not to ask who Rick and Michonne were or where they were heading, followed by a few other stipulations. Without a single word of hesitation, the couple agreed to the terms, and they all continued their journey together.

Darkness fell, and they came across a doorless, mostly dilapidated cabin, but they decided to camp there for the night. Stepping inside, they found scattered mattresses and bedding. Michonne began tidying them up with the help of Martha—which was the woman's name, while her husband was called Nick. The two women worked together until they arranged decent places to sit. As for Rick and Nick, they spent the time clearing and securing the perimeter. Fortunately, the two strangers possessed weapons that could prove useful to the group.Rick walked up to Nick, pointing in two different directions. "I'll take the right, and you head to the other side," Rick instructed. "Make sure you don't leave anyone behind. I don't want any mistakes." Nick nodded and headed left. He kept walking until he was sure he had distanced himself significantly from Rick. He then pulled out a walkie-talkie-like device and sent a message, saying, "We found them. I've sent the location coordinates."

[tastefulnood42]

Richonne Fanfiction Rec #1: LaMorenaReina

Before I begin, a quick PSA: There will be minor spoilers, major feelings, and language that is absolutely NSFW. Proceed accordingly.

I chose @lamorenareina to kick off this rec series because her stories were the first Richonne fics I devoured back in the of fall 2025 after my summer rewatch binge of TWD and TOWL. The timing was divine. The very moment I decided to prowl the internet to feed my Richonne withdrawal (let’s keep it real—addiction), she had just updated several works on AO3.

As I waded through AO3’s chaotic “Rick Grimes x Michonne” tag (seriously, what is that filter even doing), one author name jumped out at me:

La. Morena. Reina.

A Spanish username meaning “Black Queen”? Oh, I knew I was in the right damn place. I was expecting Richonne love and Michonne love and she delivered both in abundance.

This author spoiled me rotten and set a bar so high that every fic I read afterward had to limbo under it. Her writing is just that damn good.

I’m the kind of psycho who must read an author’s works chronologically—I know. Is it Autism? OCD? Both? Who knows. Who cares. It’s my process.

So I started with her earliest Richonne offerings:

“This New Thing” A smutty one‑shot. Delicious. But I was craving something longer, something I could sink my teeth into.

“Untitled x Rockets” Another short, spicy morsel that absolutely lived up to its name. Let’s just say I may or may not have instigated an incident with my husband after reading it several times. Anyway…

Both pieces were scrumptious amuse‑bouches, but I was still feeling a main course not an entrée.

“And If I Cry Again”, the fic that ruined me.

Where do I even start.

This story is three chapters of lush, poetic, emotionally surgical, profoundly intimate writing that had me in tears. Actual tears. The ugly kind.

It’s a slow, aching meditation on grief, love, and the quiet, devastating ways Rick and Michonne hold each other together after Carl’s death.

As I read and re‑read, I could feel how much this author loves these characters. The prose lingers on gestures, textures, breath, silence—it’s not plot‑driven; it’s emotion‑driven.

And it’s

SO.

DAMN.

GOOD.

Read it. Immediately. NOW!

This woman wrecked me. I mean WRECKED. It took divine intervention to pull me out of the Richonne stupor she put me in. And then she had the audacity—the unmitigated gall—to destroy me again with the next one.

Let me gather myself.

“Because I’m Okay Too”, la hermana (sister) story.

I consider BIOT the sister to IICA. Same author, same emotional intelligence, same devotion to Rick and Michonne, but doing different narrative work.

IICA is a lyrical, intimate novel about two people learning to breathe again after losing their son. BIOT is a rich, expanded, emotionally intelligent retelling of TWD canon; filling in gaps, deepening motivations, and tracing the slow, inevitable gravitational pull between Rick and Michonne.

And yes, it’s unfinished.

And yes, I screamed.

And yes, I am still screaming.

FUCK!

“A Rare Sameness”, the prestige blockbuster.

Shiiiiit.

If IICA and BIOT are emotional ballads, “A Rare Sameness” is the prestige summer blockbuster akin to Michael “My Movies Go Boom” Bey; however, much more elevated, atmospheric, gritty, and character‑driven. Plus, Richonne.

This fic introduces Rick and Michonne at the Atlanta camp, giving us a deeper, more emotionally loaded foundation for their compatibility than the show ever did. It’s cinematic, immersive, sensory‑rich (which I ate up like a plate of mofongo) and it was the spark that ignited my obsession with all things pre‑season 3 Richonne re-imaginings.

Like BIOT, it’s an ensemble piece. But ARS goes further—it gives Rick and Michonne a depth and dimensionality that makes even the best written episodes of the show (and certainly the comics) feel… well… mediocre.

Apart from TOWL Episode 4, of course. Looks sheepishly at Queen Danai.

“A Cowboy, Sheriff, and Lawyer Walk Into A Bar”, the canon divergent wild card.

This one is quite the departure; adult in theme, canon‑divergent, and as the title suggests, a Richonne + 1 situation. It’s not my personal favorite only because I am a Richonne monogamy purist, but if this flavor of romp is your jam, it’s a whole dish.

Final Thoughts (and a Plea)

If you haven’t read this author’s Richonne works, fix that immediately. And while I encourage you to shower her with love, please be gentle—she’s a doctoral student and deserves peace, hydration, and a full 10 hours of sleep.

@lamorenareina, wherever you are, I wish you success, blessings, and health. Your writing—está cabrón. Truly. Thank you for sharing your talent with us while juggling life and a PhD. I am humbled.

And now, allow me one moment of childish petulance:

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE UPDATE “A Rare Sameness” AND “Because I’m Okay Too” SOON stomps foot, I WANT MORE of your "Horny Fandom Shit and Writing" flops dramatically onto fainting couch

DAMN IT. I almost posted this before midnight. >_<

Passes out.

LaMorenaReina works @ AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMorenaReina/pseuds/LaMorenaReina/works?fandom_id=205859

[tastefulnood42]

Richonne Fanfiction Rec #4: blueprintofyourpast

It was my goal to spread these rec posts out so folks could explore or revisit these wonderful writers and their stories at a leisurely pace—but now I feel pressed for time, with my days off winding down and the work emails already beginning to trickle in (received notice of my instructional schedule today).

Sighs.

This next author is not one I’ve seen much buzz about in my excavation of the Richonne Internet annals, but they absolutely merit a shout‑out of San Diego Comic Con junket proportions.

Before I continue, I need to lay out a bit of background:

1. I first learned of this author while digging elbow‑deep through the Richonne Just Desserts Tumblr page.

2. This author states multiple times throughout their notes that English is not their native tongue—but I call bullshit, because their writing is far superior to many a native English speaker I’ve known. And I say that with the utmost authority both as an educator and as someone whose first language was NOT English, despite having been born and raised on the mainland United States.

3. The links to this author’s stories on FF.NET no longer exist. Look, I respect that an author has the right to remove their works from the internet at their discretion. I’ve learned some authors have removed stories for a variety of reasons: plots re‑worked for legit publications (more on that in another post); mental health; entire story re‑hauls; loss of interest in the fandom, etc.

But if I may indulge in a tiny petulant FOMO tantrum: clears throat “That’s so fucking unfair! I’m only JUST finding these stories, and I feel like I’m being punished or cheated because my ass had other shit going on in 2014, 15, 16…”

Stomps, then clears throat while straightening my worn Buc‑ee’s hoodie.

That’s alright though.

Y’all don’t know what a neurodivergent puertorriqueña with a single‑minded purpose can unearth. Government agencies ain’t got shit on my resourcefulness and determination.

Basically… I used the FICHUB workaround. If that hadn’t worked, I would’ve gone straight to the Deleted Fic subreddit.

Sheepish grin. Apologies for the minor tangent.

I was able to find an author profile with the same handle on AO3 under the German phrase “befehlvonganzunten (blueprintofyourpast)". I can’t confirm they’re one and the same author, but I suspect they may be — even though none of the Richonne stories are posted under that profile and I have no way of contacting them directly to ask.

Well, now that I’ve laid all that groundwork, the author whose praises I will sing in this post is the one who goes/went by “blueprintofyourpast.”

Y’all.

Again — y’all.

I only found a handful of stories by this author on RJD and believe me when I say I’ve been combing through the internet like one of Lord Helmet’s Spaceballs and still came up empty‑handed. So, I’ll highlight what I was able to procure.

Oh yes — as per usual: mild spoilers, HUGE feels, meandering thoughts, and all that jazz.

Yous been warned.

I’ll start off with the Wonder Twin pair—Tremor and Tourniquet.

Tremor (Rick’s Ying)

This fic? This fic is a panic attack in prose. This fic is jagged, breathless, claustrophobic—and that’s exactly why it works. The entire story is built around Rick’s unraveling grief and blueprintofyourpast writes that grief with a kind of raw, unfiltered immediacy that feels almost intrusive. Like you’re reading something you shouldn’t be reading, like you’ve cracked open Rick Grimes’ skull and are just sitting there in the dark with his panic. He’s grieving Michonne so hard he’s practically vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear.

Her Rick POV is feral, obsessive, and heartbreakingly human. She writes him true to canon but stripped of the show’s restraint—no sheriff stoicism, no quiet brooding. This Rick is volcanic. His guilt over losing Michonne is molten. His fixation on her is tender, desperate, and so intimate it feels like you’re eavesdropping on his soul.

There’s a line early on that punched me in the chest:

“He needs something else. He needs to stop feeling like his skin is about to cave in.”

It’s giving grief as a bodily event, not just a feeling. She illustrates longing as a physical force. Rick’s grief isn’t sadness—it’s a full‑body experience. His panic attacks, his hallucinations, his obsessive memories… they’re written with feverish clarity. You feel trapped inside his head, pacing the same emotional corridors he’s pacing, breathing the same thin air.

It’s sweaty, it’s feral, it’s emotionally unhinged—and it’s beautiful.

The kiss scene is devastating. Not romantic fluff—no soft lighting, no swelling music. It’s grief, guilt, and need colliding in a moment of delusion. Cos, y’all—Rick kisses the memory of Michonne, knowing she’s gone, knowing he failed her.

It’s brutal and beautiful in that way blueprint excels at: intimacy sharpened into a blade.

The writing is atmospheric and musical. She uses rhythm like a weapon. Repetition, short sentences, sensory overload—it creates a tremor‑like effect (ahhh see it now?). You feel the instability. You feel the shaking. You feel Rick’s world vibrating at the edge of collapse.

The writing is jagged and breathless, like blueprint handed you a live wire and said “hold this.”

The ending is cathartic. It doesn’t feel cheap. It doesn’t feel like a twist. It feels earned—like the world finally stops shaking, like the tremor (there it is again) finally settles.

All this and claiming English isn’t her first language.

Gurl, be serious.

This is Pulitzer‑level emotional architecture or the literary equivalent of clutching your chest and whispering “ay bendito.”

Tourniquet (To Michonne’s Yang)

This sequel is quieter, more psychological, more internal—and honestly, even stronger in some ways. If Tremor is Rick’s breakdown, Tourniquet is Michonne’s.

And baby… Michonne’s trauma is LOUD. The fic literally opens with: “Her dreams are so fucking loud.”

That’s the thesis of the entire fic.

Michonne’s trauma is noise—intrusive, overwhelming, impossible to silence—and blueprint writes them with such lyrical brutality that you feel every echo.

Look. Her Rick stream of consciousness is uncanny. Her Michonne POV—extraordinary.

It’s fragile, haunted, hyper‑sensory, and deeply introspective. She writes trauma with a kind of lyrical brutality—not melodramatic, not exaggerated, but felt.

This is Michonne trying to relearn safety, relearn sleep, relearn touch. It’s domestic Richonne but with the volume cranked up to 11. Rick is a needy octopus at night (which we can all agree is canon behavior), Michonne is dissociating in the kitchen, and Alexandria is written like a haunted house with HOA fees (sucks teeth, don’t even get me started).

The trauma depiction is startling good. Michonne’s dissociation, her intrusive memories, her guilt over André, her fear of sleep—all written with nuance and emotional intelligence.

And the intimacy?

Soft.

Strange.

Quietly erotic.

Tender in that “we survived hell and now we’re trying to remember how to be human” way. Not flashy. Not performative. Just two people clinging to each other because the world is too loud. Rick’s “needy octopus” predilection again.

Their relationship is mature. They’re not just lovers. They’re two damaged people learning how to exist in safety again.

It’s unfinished, but what exists is gorgeous and still a story worth recommending.

The Trickster

This is the fluff piece, y’all. The palate cleanser. The “Rick Grimes is down bad in the morning” fic.

Rick sees Michonne come down the stairs in her lavender robe and immediately forgets how to speak English. The man is short‑circuiting like a busted iPhone charger.

It’s domestic, it’s sweet, it’s horny in a soft‑focus way, and it has that blueprint signature: Rick being so in love he’s practically apologizing to the air for existing.

Also? She’s pregnant.

He’s obsessed.

Daryl and Carl are clowning him at breakfast.

Judith is eating cornflakes like a tiny queen.

It’s the Richonne sitcom episode we deserved.

The Warmest Colour

Now THIS… this is where blueprint said “what if I wrote a sci‑fi AU with political world‑building, extraterrestrial arrivals, climate catastrophe, and soulmate energy?” and then just DID IT.

This story feels like reading a fever dream wrapped in velvet. It’s giving Hades and Persephone but make it Richonne. It’s giving Blade Runner meets Greek tragedy. It’s giving Rick Grimes wandering through the underworld with a torch and a prayer.

It’s cinematic.

It’s ambitious.

It’s Arrival meets District 9 meets Richonne slow burn.

It’s also fucking unfinished (Hiatus is what the status said). Hisses.

The world is freezing over, aliens are dropping out of the sky like confused Sims, and Rick Grimes is a government supervisor who hates his job but cannot stop thinking about the newcomer named—yes— Michonne.

The prose is lush—like, “I need to read this out loud in a dimly lit room with incense burning” lush. It’s the kind of writing that makes you pause mid‑sentence and whisper “daaaaaayuuuuuumn” like you’re reacting to a plot twist on House of the Dragon.

Rick in this fic? He’s not just down bad—he’s down mythological. He’s down “I would fight a pantheon for this woman.” He’s down “I saw her once and now I’m rearranging my entire worldview.”

(Apologies for all the mythological metaphors. I’ve had season 1 of Percy Jackson and the Olympians on in the background as I’ve been working on this post. Oh shit. I’ve been writing for three hours.)

The prologue? Rick is bruised, stitched, half‑dead, and Michonne casually says:

“They tried to kill you and I stopped them.”

Excusez moi? Madamoiselle Michonne. What do you MEAN you stopped them?

It’s bold. It’s dramatic. It’s instantly gripping. She writes the scene like a cold open in a prestige sci‑fi series. And she does it with humor, too—the conspiracy theorists, the absurd regulations, the GM food jokes.

It’s textured. The world building is legitimately good. The writing is atmospheric and melancholy, like every scene is lit by cold blue neon. The soulmate energy is subtle but undeniable—they orbit each other like two planets that haven’t realized they’re on a collision course.

Her Michonne is just mesmerizing in this AU. She’s alien but not alienated. She’s powerful, but not monstrous. She’s curious, observant, emotionally layered. She’s written like a deity who accidentally wandered into the mortal realm and is trying to pretend she’s not making the air vibrate. There’s a quiet, eerie dignity to her—something ancient, something wounded, something luminous.

And Rick feels it immediately.

And the tension between them? It’s not romantic tension, it’s cosmic tension. It’s “the universe is holding its breath because these two are in the same room.”

This fic reads like blueprintofyourpast cracked open a bottle of literary ambrosia (y’all, they’re killing it with the music in Percy Jackson and the Olympians) and said, “Let me just drizzle this over every paragraph.”

It’s haunting, it’s gorgeous, it’s the kind of story that makes you want to go outside and stare dramatically into the middle distance like you’re in a Terrence Malick film.

It’s unfinished—yes. But what exists? Chef’s kiss. Peak Richonne mythmaking. The kind of writing that makes you want to grab people by the shoulders and say, “READ THIS, I BEG.”

Ay, que dolor that we’ll never see the ending.

Where Men Can’t Live, Gods Fare No Better

And now, mi gente… her pièce de résistance. The crown jewel. The “I had to put the laptop down and stare at the wall like I was in an A24 movie”…

Oh. Oh. Oh.

This one is actually finished!

Completed.

Whole.

A FULL meal.

A literary entrée with no missing chapters.

A blessing.

Runs around the church pews.

Look. I feel it’s pertinent to share that I come by my humor honestly. After some truly unstable years in my youth, my mother had a spiritual encounter (but that’s her story to tell, not mine), and I was then raised in the Church. Our family was one of two Hispanic families attending an all‑Black Pentecostal congregation—most of whom were Jamaican.

Oh, yes. I have stories. And damn did I eat good on Sundays.

But I digress.

This story is blueprintofyourpast’s take on Cormac McCarthy’s The Road—and when I tell you she nailed that tone? I mean she nailed it like she was submitting this to a graduate seminar on American post‑apocalyptic literature.

And again—AGAIN—this woman repeatedly said English is not her first language. I’m sorry, but ¿cómo carajo? How is she out here writing McCarthy‑level bleakness with the precision of someone who has a Pulitzer tucked in their back pocket?

I’ve taught English AND Spanish. I’ve graded essays. I’ve seen native speakers commit war crimes against syntax. Meanwhile this expletive is out here writing:

sparse, brutal prose

atmospheric dread

moral ambiguity

landscapes so desolate you can taste the ash

…in a language she claims isn’t even her mother tongue?

AGAIN—Gurl, be serious.

Be for real.

You’re writing like the ghost of Cormac McCarthy whispered in your ear and handed you his typewriter.

This fic is harsh. It’s unforgiving. It’s quiet in that way that hurts.

Rick and Michonne aren’t mythic here—they’re human in the most devastating way. Two people walking through a world that has already ended, clinging to each other not because love will save them, but because love is the only thing left that still feels real.

It’s the closest thing I’ve ever read to a Richonne version of The Road—not derivative, not imitative, but in conversation with McCarthy’s style. Blueprint understood the homework assignment and then turned it into a dissertation.

And again—English is not her first language.

I’m sorry, but that’s witchcraft. That’s El Gran Combo level brujería. That’s talent so raw it makes you want to throw your own laptop out the window.

And unlike Tourniquet or The Warmest Colour, (which remain heartbreakingly unfinished), GROWLS, this one is complete—a full, devastating, beautifully crafted journey from beginning to end.

A masterclass. A study in tone. A reminder that fanfiction can be literature. A reminder that some writers disappear from the internet but leave behind work that still punches you in the chest years later.

Mujer. BluePrintOfYourPast, wherever you are now—all I can think to say is—gracias.

Tremor @ FF.NET

Tourniquet @ FF.NET

The Trickster @ FF.NET

The Warmest Colour @ FF.NET

Where Men Can't Live, Gods Fare No Better @ FF.NET

Note: Psst... FICHUB work around

[tastefulnood42]

Richonne Fic Recs Master List

1. LaMorenaReina

2. FoxIsSoFoxy

3. Twriter12

4. BluePrintOfYourPast

My Richonne Spotify Playlist

Original post here. Please DM me with suggested songs in any language and I will add them to the playlist.

[simply-abby]

I know I said my last edit was going to be my *last*... but I love Richonne way too much. 🤭❤️

Thank you all for the love on my last post 🥰🫶🏽.

I hope you enjoy this one,

#richonneforever

[tastefulnood42]

Richonne Fanfiction Rec #3: Twriter12

My personal Richonne guilty pleasure crack-fiend addiction trope (for lack of a better word) is that delicious little subgenre where Lori and Michonne are in the same space, breathing the same air, loving the same man, and trying not to claw each other’s eyes out while maintaining some semblance of civility.

The pièce de résistance of this trope—the crown jewel, the undefeated champion, the Beyoncé of “Rick has two women in the room and one of them is his ex-wife” fic—is @twriter12’s 7 Days a master class on Richonne emotional chaos.

Where do I even start? Oh yeah: per usual, mild spoilers and unhinged feels abound. Proceed with caution.

Here’s the setup: Zombie Apocalypse. Alexandria. Lori is still alive (and so are some other TF members—I won’t spoil too much). Lori and Rick are finally DONE. Rick and Michonne are officially ALL IN.

And then—because this is The Walking Dead universe—shit happens.

Shit in the form of Rick forgetting he and Michonne are ALL IN and he and Lori are DONE.

And Lori? Oh, she capitalizes on the circumstances.

Ooo-wee, y’all.

Now, I recognize there are SEVERAL other noteworthy fics in this category (and I’ll get to those in another post, possibly…my summer holiday is wrapping up… tries not to fall into another moment of stress paralysis), but let me disseminate why 7 Days is my Número Uno, Top of the Heap, Master Class of its kind.

One: Rick finally grows a pair where Lori’s concerned.

Let me preface: this isn’t a criticism of other fics—but my heart can only take so many stories where Lori cuts Rick down and he just… takes it. Like a sad little Victorian orphan boy clutching his suspenders.

Oy vey.

In 7 Days, Rick is nuanced. He is emotive. He is gentlemanly, yes, but he is also DONE.

There are scenes where Rick looks at Lori’s machinations and basically says: “I don’t give a shit anymore.”

And he SPEAKS HIS FEELS.

He is ALLOWED to.

And it is GLORIOUS.

Two: Michonne is depicted as a fully nuanced woman.

Yes, we know Michonne is ALL THAT.

Queen. Icon. Legend.

But she is also a human being with needs, desires, vulnerabilities, and a breaking point.

In 7 Days, she gets to be:

frustrated

hurt

confused

angry

hopeful

and gloriously, painfully HUMAN.

There are moments where you want to reach through the screen and strangle a bitch (cough Lori).

Moments where you want to Gibbs head-thwap Michonne.

Moments where you want to shake Rick like a snow globe.

But the payoff? THE PAYOFF. When everything comes to a head? When the resolution finally arrives? It’s worth every chapter of emotional cardio.

Three: The attention to the simplicities of their day-to-day.

Look. I love Richonne smut. And 7 Days does NOT disappoint in that area either—more on that later. But one of the highlights of this story (and many of her shorter pieces in the Richonne Collection) is how beautifully she writes the ordinary moments.

Rick and Michonne making breakfast.

Rick and Michonne reading the same book together.

Rick and Michonne snogging on a lazy rainy day.

Honestly? I could read thirty more chapters of them doing absolutely nothing.

Domestic Richonne is my kink. There. I said it. And what?

My husband and I were like this pre-parenthood—playing Boggle or Scrabble on a lazy weekend or talking smack at one another during an Xbox marathon and then engaging in giddy make-up sex after—now we just stare at each other across the room like exhausted raccoons—but I digress.

Four: Father Gabriel gives Rick the talk he should’ve gotten in Season 2.

I won’t spoil it, but Gabe drops some REAL TALK that made me want to stand up and clap like I was in church waving my MLK fan about.

7 Days is in my top 5 Richonne fics of all time. I don’t give a f—

I reread it often.

I desire MORE. (You hear me @twriter12 ???!!! MORE!)

I crave a sequel where Rick navigates Lori’s nonsense while Michonne is pregnant with RJ.

There are NOT enough RJ pregnancy fics in the world, and I know @Twriter12 would eat that concept UP.

Wistfully sighs.

This is going to be my longest post yet… I need wine and ice cream. Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it. I recommend a sweet red or Moscato paired with Häagen-Dazs vanilla bean or strawberry. Grape juice works in a pinch if you’re out of wine or prefer non-alcoholic.

On to The Richonne Collection.

Oh. Mah. Gawd.

Pure. Gold.

Each one of these is a precious nugget of Richonne/Grimes 2.0 excellence and brilliant storytelling. There are 27 of these gems—I’m going to highlight a few:

“Respite”—the one that should’ve been canon

This story is everything we were CHEATED out of on screen. Rick and Michonne musing about whether they would’ve crossed paths without the ZA?

Her portrayal of Rick AND Michonne—not just Richonne—it’s perfection. Balanced. Nuanced. Never exaggerated. Never out of character.

The “Penny” Saga—Rick, stop being clueless challenge

Penny is an OC with sights on Rick despite knowing he’s with Michonne. And @Twriter12 tackles one of my biggest Richonne fic peeves: Rick being too passive or too oblivious when other women flirt.

Michonne calls him OUT. Not out of petty jealousy—but out of R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

This theme continues in “Party”, and at this point I’m a broken record, but these stories are a treasure trove.

Look. The small moments between Rick and Michonne are my personal catnip. I love being a fly on the wall. I love the everyday moments. I love the quiet intimacy.

Michonne caring for a bedridden Rick in “Changes.” Rick and Abraham having a heart-to-heart in “Her.” Sweet moments with Carl and Judith in “Talk” and “Babies.”

¡QUIERO MÁS NO JODA!

I want Rick and Michonne sharing their pre-ZA interests. I want them talking about music, books, childhood memories, embarrassing stories.

Brace yourself, @twriter12—I’m coming at you with a list of requests. Whether you use them or not is irrelevant. I’m still sending them.

And let me say this clearly: Her “Rick learns about Andre” take is my official canon.

Finally—Haunted.

Gurl.

Seriously.

UPDATE.

NOW.

Feel free to see this as harassment, cos, I’m harassing. I want a Haunted update YESTERDAY!

This unfinished masterpiece is a brilliant take on Rick and Michonne having had an established relationship before the ZA, becoming estranged, and reuniting in Alexandria.

This story rivals any episode of Divorce, Tell Me You Love Me, or any whitewashed HBO couples therapy production.

Every chapter teases the seeds of their estrangement.  Every chapter had me on tenterhooks waiting for Michonne to drop the bomb Rick NEEDED to hear. And just when you think we’re reaching a resolution? She leaves me in the lurch.

Seriously, what the fuck?

I WANT THE NEXT CHAPTER NOW. THROWS SHIT AROUND

Haunted is everything:

navigating spaces previously occupied by a former spouse

toxic friendships

racial dynamics

emotional avoidance

sexual compatibility as both glue and poison

therapy sessions that feel REAL

Rick confronting his blind spots

Michonne confronting her self-erasure

both of them confronting the truth

I could read Rick and Michonne in couples therapy ALL DAY.

And yes, the sex is passionate and consuming—but never gratuitous. It’s part of the conflict. Part of the avoidance. Part of the ache.

I love the line in 7 Days where Michonne muses: “You always hear of bad sex in a good marriage, but what about the opposite? How do you handle great sex in a bad marriage?”

PREACH.

In Haunted, their sexual compatibility is sublime—but it becomes a distraction from the elephant in the room.

And let me take a moment—a reverent pause—to talk about Carol in Haunted, because LAWD. One of the unexpected joys of this story is how we get to see an unhinged Carol slowly unravel. Haunted gives us one hell of a close up of Carol who is one passive‑aggressive comment away from snapping a neck and then alphabetizing the pantry afterward.

This woman is feral.

She is studying Michonne like she’s a threat assessment chart. She is lurking on porches. She is delivering cryptic one‑liners like she’s auditioning for the role of “Southern Gothic Oracle #3.” She is smiling that Stepford smile that never reaches her eyes. She is playing psychological chess while everyone else thinks they’re playing checkers.

And the best part? Michonne sees ALL of it.

Haunted gives us the Michonne who is DONE with Carol’s games. The Michonne who clocks every manipulative tilt of Carol’s head. The Michonne who refuses to be played, refuses to be gaslit, refuses to be pulled into Carol’s little “I know Rick better than you” fantasy. Their dynamic is tense, layered, and absolutely delicious—two apex predators circling each other in a suburban cul‑de‑sac.

It’s one of the most compelling portrayals of Carol I’ve ever seen in Richonne fic: not villainous, not heroic, but deeply unwell in a way that makes perfect sense for a woman who survived the world by becoming whatever people needed her to be. Haunted lets her be messy, manipulative, territorial, and unsettling—and it works.

Honestly? I could read an entire spin‑off of Michonne and Carol having polite, razor‑sharp conversations while pretending they’re not two seconds away from violence.

GAWD. @Twriter12’s storytelling is just too damn scrumptious.

I can’t stand it.

Look. These are just my favorites in @Twriter12’s bibliography. The woman has RANGE. In addition to the aforementioned treasures, she’s also gifted us a couple of sharp, character‑driven profile pieces centered on Sasha and Rosita—both of which feel like intimate psychological snapshots pulled straight out of the ZA. And if that weren’t enough, she’s got a modern‑day AU with delicious shades of Scandal and several other Richonne/Grimes 2.0 one-shots. The depth, the versatility, the emotional intelligence across her entire catalog? Ridiculous.

Y’all. GO. READ. NOW.

Show her love and shower her with ALL the flowers whilst poking a bit with the pitch fork.

Grins

@twriter12, you’re not done. I refuse to accept that! I don’t care that I am more than a decade late to the Richonne fanfiction party. I have requests too, dangit!

TastefulNood42’s Requests (aka my formal petition to the Queen @Twriter12):

(PLEASE) FINISH Haunted. I am on my knees in the rain like a telenovela protagonist. I need this. My spirit needs this. My crops need this. My skin needs this. My blood pressure needs this.

Consider a sequel to 7 Days where Richonne are expecting, Lori has to suck it up/come to terms, and we get more general 7 Days-verse one‑shots that delve deeper into those Richonne moments prior to Rick’s accident. I want the domestic chaos. I want the emotional growth. I want Lori’s face when she realizes the universe is not taking her side. Yes, I'm that petty.

More one‑shots where Rick and Michonne discuss the Big Trauma—Rick getting shot/waking up from the coma, and Michonne sharing her account of what happened with Mike/Andre/Terry. I want the emotional excavation. I want the honesty. I want the catharsis. I want the “we survived all this and still found each other” energy.

More Richonne romantic heat—the tension, the closeness, the chemistry, the “we can’t keep our hands off each other even when the world is ending” energy. Because listen… the way you write their connection? The way you write the gravity between them? The way they orbit each other like two celestial bodies who refuse to obey physics? I need MORE of that. I want the intensity, the passion, the breath‑stealing closeness, the “we’re finally alone and the door is locked” vibe. Feed me! Bats my pretty lashes like a pathetic Victorian orphan asking for more.

7 Days @ FF.NET

Haunted @ FF.NET

Richonne Collection @ FF.NET

[richonnesotakuishq]

Yes! Yes! Yeeeeesssss! Because I love 7 days and Haunted has...whoop! Haunted definitely needs to be finished! Please....ain't too proud to beg!

[chikooritajjk]

OH. WOW

[chikooritajjk]

IS THE WORLD OK?

[herebutnothere]

Wrote a little one-shot of someone who meets Team Family on the road and has to answer Rick's three questions... all while taking note of certain dynamics 🤭

[herebutnothere]

Favorite Moments from TWD: The Morning After (S6 E11)

The intro to this round-up and other installments can be found here.

Excuse me while I scream a little bit because are you kidding me?

Michonne blushing like "Wait... are we...? Did we...?" and Rick reaching over to hold her hand as if to confirm that "Yeah, we did and we are."

Omg, stop.

But obviously keep going.

Okay, so let's set the scene:

After a rocky start filled with distrust and intrigue, Michonne and Rick quickly discover that it's truly above them. In fact, here's a live look at their hearts and minds:

The two have a bond that people write sonnets and songs about because in each other they're able to find support in times of struggle, a sounding board in times of confusion and uncertainty, a friend to crack jokes with, and an accountability partner to keep them in line, even when they'd rather they didn't (here's looking at you, Mr. "I didn't tell you about the gun because you could have made me change my mind" 🙄🤣)...

So when they finally have a moment to breathe...

and when they're sitting on the couch after a long day and he tells her to have her mints...

and when their fingers linger...

and when she looks at him with questions in her eyes and he returns her look with so much certainty in his...

them adding physical intimacy to their relationship makes all the sense in the world.

So yada yada, they eventually summon Jesus (lol), everyone immediately finds out thanks to a different Jesus (lol), and we get this scene in the van the next morning.

By this point we've seen many versions of Michonne—we've seen her be a warrior, a mother figure, a friend, a confidant, a voice of reason, an optimist—but this is new. She's a woman experiencing and receiving desire. Even after all that they've done, she's still shy around him!!!! I swear if melanin wasn't in the way, we'd see her blush!!!!!

I've read enough about the source material to know that I'm so so so thankful that they went in a different direction in the TV version because what a waste it would have been to have this iteration of Michonne be soaked in violence and trauma.

It's boring. It's stale. There's no shortage of trauma porn in media built on the backs of Black women.

Instead we got to see a crush. We got to see nervousness. We got to see excitement. We got to see wonder. We got to see giggles.

I mean come on!!!!!

The way she looks at him shyly.

The way he's smirking because (as TOWL S1 E5 later confirms) his dreams were coming true.

The way everyone else is like "finally."

I love it, I love it, I love it.

As a Black woman, it's a joy to see another Black woman—specifically a dark-skinned, physically, emotionally, and mentally strong Black woman—be loved out loud for all that she is because it's one thing to know this type of love and appreciation exists in real life and it's another to see it be intentionally showcased in one of the most consequential pieces of mass media and pop culture.

I wasn't a viewer when this episode aired live or even during the height of the show, but given the responses from some folks about The Ones Who Live, I can only imagine how it was received, both positively and negatively.

And to their credit, they (the writers, the cast, the crew) stuck with it.

There's much that can be said about some of the ways they handled Michonne as an individual and as a romantic partner for Rick, but all in all, theirs is one of my favorite relationships because of scenes like this—moments where the object of her desire desires her in equal measure. Moments where he doesn't leave any room for doubt. Moments where they can be at odds with a problem, but never with each other (I write about this at length here). Moments where her softness is an asset, not a hinderance. I think Danai describes it best when she said in a 2016 interview with Entertainment Weekly:

"She was covered in armor that was impenetrable, and piece by piece, season by season, the armor’s been removed, but it hasn’t made her weak, it’s just made her strong in a different way. That warrior hasn’t gone away, but she started to find her voice and open up, having heart to hearts with Carl... He blesses her with this position in their home, and I think it gives her permission to be open and to let go a little bit and to let her heart actually express itself. The idea of having her heart touched so unexpectedly by Carl in that previous scene, it allows her heart to take the driver’s seat, and that is the moment where she’s able to actually see this man sitting in front of her, for what she’s actually seen him as but never really has acknowledged to herself."

And that is what is at the core of this scene for me: honesty.

Honesty about who you are and what you want.

Honesty about how you feel and what matters most.

Honesty about what it means to truly be alive.

~ le sigh~

I love it, I love it, I love it!!!