La Richonneuse

After both Rick and Nick returned to the shelter, having ensured the perimeter was safe, the four of them sat on the ground, waiting for the food to be ready. The two strangers talked about how it all started for them and how they had ended up there. Michonne listened intently, while Rick went to check on the food, returning with two tin cans in his hands. He set them down on the ground; Michonne picked one up and offered to share it with Rick, and the other two did the same.

Before they began eating, Martha asked, "This mushroom... are you sure it’s not poisonous?" Michonne stopped eating, looking at Rick, who replied, "I grew up on a farm. I know a poisonous mushroom from a safe one." Michonne breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Oh, you terrified me, because I’ve already eaten a little bit of it." Everyone laughed and continued eating. Not even five minutes had passed before Nick and Martha began feeling an unbearable pain in their stomachs. Michonne jumped up, trying to see what was wrong with them, but Rick stopped her and told her it was the mushrooms—they were poisoned. Michonne turned to him and said, "What? Then we are also..." Rick interrupted her and said, "No, we didn't eat the poisoned mushrooms." Rick stepped past Michonne and walked toward the two who were on the brink of death. He pulled a weapon from Nick's waist and killed them both. Michonne was shocked by what he did. He grabbed her hand and told her that they were on their way, and that they had to run. She didn't understand anything, but she followed him.

Both Rick and Michonne ran through the forest, encountering a few walkers along the way and killing them. They didn't stop until morning broke. They had distanced themselves significantly from their initial campsite. Taking a deep breath, they sat down to rest for a moment. Michonne said, "You owe me an explanation." He replied, "They were with them." Michonne interrupted him, "The CRM?" He nodded and said, "When he and I were scouting the forest to clear any danger, I suggested we split up. Then I followed him because I didn't feel comfortable. I heard him talking to someone, and he had already sent the location coordinates. I was going to kill him at that exact moment, but I changed the plan. Luckily, I found the mushrooms." Michonne interrupted him again, "This part is the strangest. How did they get poisoned while we didn't, even though we ate from the same mushrooms?" Rick said to her, "Who said we ate from the same mushrooms? It was a different mushroom. I found a poisonous type, and also the edible one." Michonne nudged Rick’s hand and said, "Why didn't you tell me or at least give me a hint?" He told her, "I needed a realistic reaction." Michonne smiled at him, punched his arm, and added seriously, "So they are on their way... Beale and the others?" He answered her, "Not Beale. I have a feeling it’s Jadis.

Michonne said angrily, "That miserable bitch. I truly hope she doesn't come, because I want to kill her myself." Rick took Michonne’s hand, kissed it, and said, "Me too, but for now, we hide." Michonne said to him, "Instead of hiding, what do you think?" She pulled a walkie-talkie out of her pocket. "Let's send them our current coordinates and set an ambush for them. What do you say?" He said to her, "I love the idea, but no. I don't want to risk losing you." Michonne raised an eyebrow, and looking into her eyes, he continued, "Yes. I lived for so many years as a body without a soul until I saw you again. I won't be able to go on without you." Tears welled up in Michonne's eyes, and she said, "Alright then, let's move."

The two of them walked great distances, taking occasional breaks to rest, until they reached an abandoned house. They scouted the place and found four zombies wandering inside; they disposed of them and threw the bodies outside. Inside, there were tightly sealed beverage bottles and some noodles packed in large bags. The two inferred that a conflict had broken out among the turned individuals, leading them to kill each other. With a smile, Rick said to her, "This will last us for a while." Michonne replied, "Yeah," and pointing to a beverage bottle, she added, "and I really needed this

Chapters: 15/? Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rick Grimes/Michonne Characters: Rick Grimes, Michonne (Walking Dead), Carl Grimes, Andre Anthony, Judith Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Connie (Walking Dead) Additional Tags: Minor Maggie Greene/Glenn Rhee, Daryl Dixon/Connie - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse Summary:

Rick and Michonne - TOWL // s1.5 (💍)

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

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.

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,

NEW CHAPTER #14