#Got CRM

[nobleriver]

Rick and Michonne Grimes - Their Journey Over the Years

It's a broken world, Michonne. And you're the only thing that puts it back together. Til my last breath I am yours.

[sav1ored]

//Imagine an AU where in TWD everyone ended up in different places instead. like c'mon CRM - Rick, Michonne, negan, andrea, Abraham, SAVIOR'S - shane, maggie, rosita, Eugene, siddiq, sherry, Ezekiel, princess WHISPERERS - sasha, carol, daryl, Aaron, jadis, alden, elijah, ALEXANDRIA- tara, glenn, morgan, gabe, jesus, dwight, tyreese WOODBURY - Governor, Simon, merle, milton, joe, jared, lydia, mary,

[ms-demeanor]

One of the problems that came up this week is actually a problem that came up in December.

On December 15th we got a warning about disk health in a server; there is a drive that is at risk of failure.

A ticket was created for me to create a quote to replace the drive.

There was no part number associated with the ticket, and because of the type of server, there was no easy way to access configuration information online and our hardware documentation is a disaster (I have thought it was a disaster since the acquisition; I set up hardware documentation at the old job specifically to avoid issues like this and now all that documentation is gone because we didn't keep any licenses of the old job's CRM). This was not a situation where I could find a part number.

I contacted Tech Alice and asked her to check the part number on the server. Alice reported back that because the drive was part of a RAID array, she couldn't get the part number. She recommended asking Bob, and put her time entry on the ticket.

I contacted Tech Bob and asked him if he could find the part number for the drive on the server; Bob also reported back that he could not find a way to get the part number from the server, he recommended that Charlie collect the part number when he went onsite. Bob added his time to the ticket (still my ticket) and added the status "onsite needed."

Now it is December 23rd. I have messaged Charlie and asked him to check the part number when he is onsite and have added him to the ticket. I'm out of the office today, Charlie is out of the office next week. Charlie does not remember to look at the part number when he is onsite. It is the end of the year.

Now it is January 15th. We lost the first week of the year to assessments, and the second week of the year to the state and our clients being on fire - people were unable to go onsite because of all of that. Charlie is going onsite. I remind him to get the part number when he is at the client site. When he is at the client site he alerts me that actually he is at their other location, not the location with the server.

Now it is January 27th. Charlie is going back onsite, he is on my ticket, the ticket is set to onsite needed. I remind Charlie that we need the part number. Charlie does not remember.

Now it is February 6th. We have created a whole new ticket for Charlie with the *EXPRESS STATED PURPOSE* of going onsite to collect a part number for the failing drive in the server. Charlie marks the ticket as "waiting materials" and makes a note that he can't replace the drive until we order the part.

Now it is February 7th. We have explained, in writing, in Charlie's ticket that we can't order the part until he goes onsite and collects the part number, because we cannot get it because the server won't report the part number if it's in a raid array for reasons that I'll be honest I do not understand.

Now it is February 14th. Charlie closes his ticket and he and Bob pull me into a meeting. The server at the client site is so old they're not sure it's a good idea to replace the drive. Charlie has recommended that the project team quote a migration to sharepoint, which the client has expressed interest in in the past. Bob makes a note of this in my ticket. But I do not close my ticket. I do not close my ticket because I know there must be some fuckery coming. So I put my ticket to "on hold" and set it to reactivate on March 10th so that I can follow up with the project team and see if the migration project is making any progress or if we still need to replace this drive because the server drive is still failing.

It is March 13th. I have a bad week. A very bad week. My manager looks at my open tickets and asks why on earth I still have a server drive failure ticket open from December. I explain that I only have it open to follow up on the migration because the technician suggested server replacement but if there wasn't progress we should still quote a drive, but I still didn't have the part number.

My manager puts me in a chat with me, Charlie, the Project team lead, my manager, and the service team lead and asks what the fuck is going on. I paste Charlie's last update on my ticket and say that I'll be happy to quote a hard drive but I still don't have the part number.

Charlie says "Oh, I put the part number in the ticket" and pastes a photo of a drive (low light, low contrast, and blurry but with a visible part number) in the chat.

"Great!" I say, and immediately assemble a quote and find stock. Then i look back at my ticket. "But I'm actually not seeing the part number on this [my] ticket. Where was that again?"

Charlie has put the part number on his ticket, which I was never on, which he closed.

"Ah, okay. I see."

And here's where the different standards that all of us are used to using work against us.

My old job built RAID servers all the fucking time. It was totally standard, totally easy, totally sensible, and I always knew to double the number of drives we needed for the storage we got because we'd be mirroring. Because we'd be using RAID 10. Because it's robust and can take a lot of failure. A drive failing in a server configured with RAID 10 is not ideal, but it's also not a drop-everything and panic emergency. I *still* wouldn't want to leave it two months in an ideal world but I can't drive up to San Francisco and get a part number, and sometimes the world literally catches on fire.

However, these new folks use RAID 5.

A drive failing in a server configured with RAID 5 *IS* a drop everything emergency, because if one drive goes down the whole system goes down until you can replace the drive and rebuild the array, and because RAID 5 is slower than 10, this can take a very, very long time depending on how much data there is. And if *two* drives fail the data is *gone*

So.

Whose job is it to get the part number, and whose job is it to know that the server is at imminent risk of failure?

Well, now I have properly reconfigured my internal alarms about any failing server drive, but I don't understand why none of the three technicians who worked on this ticket with me didn't at any point say "hey this is an emergency" (Alice is from my old team and used to RAID 10 also, I'm willing to give her a pass) and I'm *really* confused why Bob and Charlie would recommend *not* replacing a drive in a server that is that close to failure.

(And again, I just didn't know. Believe me, I am never, ever going to shut up about drive warning tickets in the future)

And, the thing that scares the shit out of me and my manager and part of the reason why this has been a bad week and I'm having stressful conversations: What if I had just closed that ticket instead of letting it reactivate to follow up on? What if I had just marked it as done when Charlie gave me the update? It wouldn't have been an old-ass ticket in my queue that my manager flagged, it would have been a note in an after-action report when the client's server crashed.

(The client has the quote now with the statement "this failing drive puts your server at risk of failure and we strongly recommend replacing" but they haven't approved it yet because they're really cheap so I'm going to have to send it again and say "this is a mission critical part that you need to replace; your server is at risk as long as the drive is not replaced.")

So. The boss is asking "why is procurement taking so long" and really, now that I'm thinking about it - because he brought it up - how much of this really IS supposed to be my job?

[probablygayattorneys]

I went to another Ghibli Fest movie tonight, The Cat Returns and the whole time I was like “Wow, the Baron looks so familiar. I could swear I’ve seen someone dressed exactly like that before.”

Sure enough…

So I went to go see Kiki’s Delivery Service in theatres as part of this year’s Ghibli Fest, and the entire time I kept thinking that the boy in it reminded me of teenage Randall, just his general aura and everything, which was fine until…

Mark the similarities and the differences

[riickgrimes]

"The key thing was of course, the fact that Rick has PTSD and that's very much what's driving a lot of his behavior and being in a place of that level of vulnerability, back with the love of his life in that way.

It's also the thing he fears, the loss of her. It manifests itself in a way that is visceral and leads to the lovemaking not just being about love, but the revealing of pain and trauma and fear. That informs Michonne, that she can't just blast him into making sense. There's something deeper going on here that he can't verbalize. She has to help him get through in a different way. So she gets to see him, as well, as he reveals what's really in there, the wound. That's going to happen most likely in that most vulnerable space." — Danai Gurira

"Yeah, I think it is about pain. As Danai just said, it's about him wanting her and then fearing what he's about to unlock again. He gets to sort of articulate it in the scene further in the episode, when he gets to say that, 'I can't do this again. I haven't got the capacity to do this again. I've worked out how to die and live again.' So it is an absolutely necessary scene that allows Michonne to realize that there's something really broken here, more broken than she's ever anticipated. [...]

So the scene was about a real intimacy, a sort of frightening intimacy. This is a part of his personality he has shut down. It's almost like he's trying to stop himself from feeling this love again. She sees that and she just says, 'Just trust. We're back. We're the same...' I find it very moving. I think it's a very, very moving scene, because it's about them connecting in a way that he's had to deny for seven years. He's denied that connection for the sake of living on in this half life for the CRM" — Andrew Lincoln

Andrew Lincoln and Danai Gurira Discuss Episode 4 of The Walking Dead: The Ones Who Live

[taylormarieee]

Not so tough now huh? CRM!Rick

A/N: ok so I watched the first episode and I just felt the urge to write for him immediately. I couldn't resist... so here you sluts go! enjoy and happy reading!<33 This is also based on this moodboard made by the lovely @angelicalhqrt

Summary: You were tough but Rick was tougher and afterall, you were still just a horny girl...

Word count:2.0k

Pairing: crm!rick x fem!fighter!reader

Warnings: smut~fighting~sexual tension~readers tough but Ricks tougher~horny thoughts~lots of yearning and physical touch~PiV sex~unprotected sex~(wrap it b4 you tap it)~slight age gap { readers in her early 30s and Rick is mid 40s}

You and Rick didn't get along. Well, you guys got along but you didn't at the same time if that makes any sense at all.

You both couldn't stand each other yet always found yourselves around each other. It's like you were constantly drawn to him and as he was to you.

It seemed as if you guys had this mutual respect to leave each other alone but in this line of work, you guys were always around one another.

Especially now that Okafor has asked you and Rick to work together to re-shape the CRM. He wants the A's to be able to lead the CRM and change the way they do things. Lead the B's to stop being so scared.

Of course Rick was against it and was very confused. "I don't give a shit about this A's and B's shit Okafor. I'm not livin' here! I'm not happy here, I'm certainly not going to give my life for a place I can't leave. For a place and their bullshit secrets." He protests.

"Rick. You think you have a choice? Now that you joined and are no longer a consignee, I need you. You will do this because you shouldn't even be alive with how many times you've tried to escape. You and bullet over here are special assets to this plan and whether you like it or not, your doing this."

Bullet was the nickname he gave you because you shot at him and grazed his forehead after he tried to rescue you. You needed to get back to your sister, you didn't want to be taken by a strange man and taken to a strange secret city that no one knows about.

"Rick. Just stop fighting it. I learned to stop fighting it long time ago. We've been here for six years. It's time to let go. Whoever your trying to get to just forget it. There alive but in here we can die at the snap of Beales fingers. So please..." You plead looking at him with a stone cold face but a hint of sympathy and concern.

"Whatever." He says gruffly before listening to the rest of what Okafor was saying.

The next day you and Rick and all the other soldiers are training. Obviously yet again, you get partnered with Rick. Your spinning your knife in your hand as you look at him with a slight smirk on your face.

You lunged at him and he blocked it and when you tried again he turned you around and had his arm around your neck and your back to his chest. You feel his warm breath on your cheek.

Your wiggling against him and he grunts in your ear. You try to pry his hand off your neck and flip him over and down to the ground but it was true, he was tougher and much stronger than you.

He pushes you and lets you go. you stumble but turn around standing your ground and facing him with your knife in hand and fists up. You lunge back at him and cut his hand, the one that's still attached of course.

He groans and holds his wrist. "Fuck." He yells out and you smirk at him. "Wouldn't fighting be much easier if you didn't cut off your hand Mr. Grimes?" You say with a slight chuckle.

He quickly turns back and the punches you in your face. You stumble back and wipe the blood that's made its way to your lip.

"Wow. That was a hell of a good punch Grimes." You say smirking and licking your lips. "Thanks bullet." He says smirking at you with his signature look.

You roll your eyes and punch his chest and he tries to hit you again but your duck and serve him a nice right hook. He stumbles back and when you try to punch his face again he grabs your right fist and slowly brings it down twisting it and hurting your wrist.

When you try the other hand to catch him off guard he dodges it and knees you in your stomach before punching your ribs.

You cry out and he lets go of your hand as you grab at your side and stomach. You glare at him from your hunched over position and then you swiftly get down and swipe your leg under his making fall.

You get on top of him and punch him in the face. You see his nose bleeding and his cheek is starting to bruise. You punch once more before a guard yells at you enough.

You get off Rick and look around at everyone looking at you before you look back at Rick on the floor and you scoff before walking away and slamming the door as you walk out.

You take the wrappings aggressively off your hands as you walk to your room. 'At least you had rooms and comfy beds here', you thought.

Where you came from you had to make do with dusty comforters and blankets on the cold, hard floor of an old abandoned building.

At least you had your sister, now you have no clue where she is... Broken out of your thoughts you hear a knock on the door.

You ignore it the first time quietly muttering a go away. When the knocks happen again you groan and get up.

As you open the door your met with Rick pushing past you and rushing into your room.

He's got a patch on his eyebrow to close up his wound with the stitches and his cheekbone is now bruised a darker color then before. Even his hand is all bandaged up.

"What the hell was that huh? Why'd ya go all psyco on me? What did I do to you huh?" He says pacing the room as he thrashes his hands around.

"I did it... because I wanted to." You whisper as you step closer to him with a neutral look on your face. You were unfazed by his act at trying to intimidate you.

"Oh really huh?" He asks stepping real close to you. Suddenly you really notice how dark his eyes are.

Even in this piss poor lighting. He looked looming and scary. Your facade falters immediately as he backs you up against the door.

The tension in the room changing slightly from anger to something more intimate...more primal. It excited you yet scared you.

You really didn't know Rick like that at all. You don't know how crazy he is- I mean besides the fact he cut off his own hand.

Your thoughts began to drift at how he looks. His brown curls framing his face perfectly, his beard full, nice and clean with greys decorating it.

You looked at the outfit he was wearing. A tight black shirt that hugged his body in all the right places with black cargo pants.

He looked...hot. Intimidating.Sexy. Dominant...I mean there were many words to describe Rick. He brought something out of you that you didn't like. He made you excited and wet at the slightest touch.

This interaction bringing back memories to 3 days ago.

{Flashback}

"Rick! Wait up!" You call out to him.

He was walking down the street in his combat outfit.

"Wassup bullet?" He asked with that look in his eyes. 'God that look does things to me,' you thought.

He looked like he wanted to throw you against the wall and eat you.

"I-I wanted to say good luck out there. Okafor can be pushing and hard to deal with." You say with a closed lip smile.

He nods and looks you up and down before speaking, "Thanks for the luck. I assumed i'll be needin' it. Especially by you." He says smirking at you.

That's the moment you knew that he knew, that he knows he makes you nervous. He would make any girl nervous. Eyelashes fluttering at the sound of his rough southern drawl. Sounding all sexy and wise.

That deep voice and pretty smirk on his face. The way his eyes will trace your body and your face as if he's remembering every tiny detail about you like a robot.

You swallow hard and you swear he could hear your heart rapidly beating, 'God girl get it together!' You immediately nodded your head before walking off and leaving him to stand there.

He watched as you walked away all flustered and cute. He chuckled to himself as you looked back and watched him walk away now.

{end of flashback}

You look up at him as he looks down at you with a smirk. His head tilted slightly to the side.

"Whatcha thinking about sweetheart?" He asks with a smirk. You roll your eyes and scoff trying to act tough.

"Nothing Rick. Get out." You demanded as you pushed past him walking towards your bed.

You didn't notice he was silently following you and he ended up behind you with his crotch to your ass and his hands on your hips.

"Why don't you stop this tough act baby and lemme take you right here hmm mama? Would you like that instead? Fuck that attitude right outta ya?" He says in a low seductive voice.

Shivers ran down your back as he said that. His words repeating like a mantra in your head over and over again. You wanted so badly for him to take you right here.

"fuck, yea I want that real bad." You mutter and he smirks as he starts kissing your neck and behind you ear. He slides his pants down and rips his cock free from the bondage of his boxers.

He removes your pants leaving you in your panties. When he slowly removes your panties they reveal your soaked cunt.

"Fuck mama, your soaked." He says with a chuckle. You whimper and grind against him. "Please Rick...I need you i-inside." You whine.

He chuckles and without warning slides in. As much as he wants to tease you, he doesn't have the patience tonight. Maybe next time..

Just thinking about being able to fuck you like this again, his hips roughly thrusting into you as your eyes roll to the back of your head or cross at your nose made his cock twitch.

Just looking at your body exposed and vulnerable to him made his cock jump with excitement to be buried so deep inside you. He kissed and sucked at yor neck leaving hickies people will surely be asking about later.

He was proud to mark you up as his. You cry out and scream out as his cock brushes your cervix just right. His cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you shaking intensely when your orgasm rolled around.

"fuck Rick! I-I'm gonna c-cum Rick! Oh shit, please lemme cum!" You beg. He looked at you and pouted.

"You wanna cum babygirl? Hmm?" He asks tauntingly. You quickly shake your head yes as he shakes his head and clicks his tongue. "Words baby. I need words." He said moving his hand up your chest slowly to lightly grip your throat.

You moan out as you grab his arm and your eyes roll back before you mutter out a little, "Yes Rick! I'm gonna cum, please?" You beg again hoping he has mercy on you.

"I'll allow you to cum but next time I won't be so nice babygirl." He says before thrusting into you with such force it makes your headboard thump against the wall.

You didn't want a noise complaint but the way your oragsm ripped through you, you honestly couldn't care.

"oh fuck!" Rick grunts out before he quickly pulls out and jerks off. You quickly scoot down and open your mouth for him to cum all on your face and tongue. You moan in pleasure as his warm seed spills all on your face.

When you swallow the amount that went into your mouth, you smile at him before licking the rest of by using your finger to apply it in your mouth.

He groans at the sight and he lifts you up placing you neatly and softly on your bed. Your so drunk off his cock that when he goes to try and get a warm cloth for you you grab his arm stopping him.

"Please stay with me. I don't wanna be alone... not tonight." You whisper. He smiles and nods before crawling his way into bed with you rubbing soft circles on your waist as you drift of to sleep.

Taglist: @dustbunniess @dollyfl1rt @rickswh0r3 @sinsandsweetness @justjasminne @itzdarling @versatilehater @aerangi @2svnder @keiva1000 @prettyluhdavis@hutchersonsgurl @grimesuniversexx @liliesdiary @writella

[ravenraverequests]

crm rick grimes x gn reader smutty headcanons

-typically, he likes to fuck you hard and fast. he likes to hear you whimper and cry out in his ear as he fucks you into your mattress. he always leaves you with a limp that the other soldiers comment on. you tell them you hurt your leg in training while rick smirks to himself.

-some nights, when the sorrow and darkness in his eyes is deeper than usual, he likes to fuck you slow. you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his neck while he thrusts deeply and leisurely into you. he tells you how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have met you.

-after his training, when he’s frustrated and sweaty and tired, you always get down on your knees for him and let him fuck your mouth. he pulls on your hair and praises you, telling you what a “good little whore” you are for him and how “fucking good” you are. he apologizes for the hair pulling and head pushing after he finishes by going down on you until you’re crying out and begging him to stop with your thighs shaking around his head. he always tells you “one more, baby, I know you’ve got one more in you”.

-he’s the best kisser you’ve ever kissed. the first time you kissed, he had taken your face gently into his hand and kissed you deeply. you grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, and before you knew it, you were up against a wall with your legs hoisted around his waist, grinding down on him and whining into his mouth.

-while he always tops and is usually the more dominant one in bed, he has his submissive streak. there are times when you run your hands through his hair when he’s between your legs and his eyes flick up to yours, pleading and desperate to be good. you’ll never forget the night where you told him to fuck you harder and when he obeyed, you whispered in his ear, “good boy.” he had cum almost immediately after, letting out a whimper. he apologized profusely for finishing prematurely, but you considered it one of the hottest things he’d ever done.

-he loves any position that you’ll let him put you in, but something about you riding him drives him crazy. he loves to grope your chest and kiss your torso as you move your hips. he loves to praise you when you do it, whispering sweet but dirty things to you. when he can’t take your slow hip swivels anymore, he grabs your hips with his large hands and begins to bounce you in his lap. he’ll pull his feet in to steady himself as he thrusts upwards into you. when you’re done, he likes to keep you in his lap until his cock fully softens. he likes holding you close to his chest and petting your hair.

-he’ll never leave you hanging. he’s a gentleman so he always insists on you cumming first (and more than once). even when he’s pounding into you, about to fall off the edge himself, he’ll hold it off long enough to make you cum first.

-he accidentally wears his dog tags one night. he’s over you, making you moan in pleasure, when you fist your hands in his shirt and demand it come off. he sits back in his haunches to pull his shirt off. he chuckles lowly when his dog tags jump out and goes to take them off, but you tell him to keep it on. you cum hard that night, with his dog tags dangling in your face as he fucks you.

-he loves to overstimulate you. he adores the way you cry and squirm when he keeps licking even after your second orgasm. you love his mouth and he loves putting it to use for you. he prefers to make you cum at least once before he eases you down onto his cock. he loves to have you sobbing and begging for him.

[hidtired]

Masterlist

(Daryl Dixon x reader)

Series

A Single Punch 8.9k words [Finished]

Description: The line up ends with 3 supposed dead members of the group. Sometimes you have to know when to play dead. Even when all else goes to hell.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Unfortunate Timing 18.9k words [On going]

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon) [Pre apocalypse to Commonwealth]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, ect.

Oneshots

Count to 8 4.6k words

Description: The Prison was destroyed and your family lost. Leaving you alone and with less fingers then you started with. You were known to be a gentle being. You were sorely unaware of what you were capable of.

Poison For Some 5.9k words

Description: Your deathly allergic to nuts and dinner in the prison leaves you running for medicine. Your abrupt departure confuses everyone, until your partner Daryl remembers of your allergies. Now it was 24 hours and you were no where to be found.

Love Burns 6.1k words

Description: Some way somehow you crawled your way back from death. All to get back into the arms of one man. Daryl and the rest of the group were taking your death hard, your death was gruesome. So your disheveled arrival back to them was unfathomable…

Coincidence or Fate [Up coming]

Description: You meet Daryl in the woods. He was looking for his brother after the bridge. 5 years into your relationship you vanished from thin air only leaving a arrow pointed up carved into a tree. You had got caught into a community called the CRM. That is where you met the fabled Rick Grimes. Will you ever get home?

Requested

Unspoken Things 1.3k words

Description: Words never came easy to Daryl. After the loss of the prison and finding Alexandria however, he just couldn’t stop them.

Hangman 4.9k words [Finished]

Description: Y/N Dixon was to be punished for her husbands actions at the line up. Negan decided to do it in style. To have a rope looped for your neck, intended for your death. Daryl watches you hang before being dragged away. But you had still been alive by the time you were cut down.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Miles Away 6.2k words

Description: A last minute trip leaves you separated from your fiancé when the world ends. Years of travel inevitably returns you to him. But years out in the world causes change.

[whateverisbeautiful]

Richonne in Retrospect - The 💋 List

(every Richonne kiss ranked)

#12: The Forest Farewell Kiss (1.06)

Now let me start by saying, similar to when I was making the reveling analysis of this 1.06 teaser a while back, these kisses had me damn near too distracted to type any commentary for this post lol. It's solid gold and I didn't realize til the re-watch just how much Rick is putting in work with this kiss right here, honey. 😋 He can't help but be spirited in his love for her, and I love that for Michonne. And she can't help but give her all when loving on Rick as well, so they really are a magnetic match made in heaven 😇...

It's funny because before I reviewed all the TOWL & TWD kisses to rank them, I hadn't thought this 1.06 one would have made it so high up for some reason. But then I rewatched it and y'all there was no way this could go any lower because this kiss is just passion x100. When I say no one does passion like Richonne, this scene really would be all the proof needed of that, even tho every kiss in my Top 12 proves Richonne has an incomparable passion for each other.

One of the things I always like about this kiss is how, while Rick and Michonne have been husband and wife for many years, post-episode 5 they somehow manage to kiss each other like they're even more married after Rick got down on one knee with a ring. Idk how to explain it, but something about all the kisses in 1.06 just felt married on a heightened level and I love it. Similar to the great off-to-war kiss in 8.01, this is Richonne having a passionate intimate farewell before parting ways to do something risky. And knowing that what they're about to do is dangerous, I love that they kiss in a way that is one; so invigorating and comforting and two; makes it clear that no matter what happens next they're in it together. This was an Us-Against-The-World kiss.👌🏽

I know neither of them is entertaining the mindset that this could be the last kiss they share, but I appreciate that they still kiss like it could be because they always want each other to know the depth of their love. Again, parting isn't easy for these two, especially after years apart and finally agreeing to go home together. So you know having to take on some of this CRM takedown separately isn't ideal for them. But this kiss communicates that even as they enter the lion's den they'll be back together and home soon because nothing is taking them from each other ever again.

I love how much it feels like Rick wants Michonne to know that even with him headed back into the CRM, she is still always and forever his choice. And the way Michonne looks at him after the kiss - that's her baby, y'all. I love how much she loves him. Richonne will always make time for each other so I appreciate that they both felt it's important to have not just a short farewell here but one that really takes its time and goes all in with the passion. The kiss is as hot as it's reassuring and it really is a ten out of ten, which just lets you know how blessed our ship is because that means I felt 11 other Richonne kisses are also on or above this excellent level. ♥️

[avadaniels]

BILL: So, Danny here mentioned you, uh, had a chat yesterday, and he got straight on the phone to figure out the next best step for someone as loyal as you. ERIC: You both know what CRMS is. It's a retirement home. BILL: More time for your family. You deserve this.

INDUSTRY 3x07 "Useful Idiot"

[dizzymoods]

During the Troubles, Civil Rights Leaders went to Ireland to learn about the plight of the Irish people and to support their fight against colonialism.

Standing on the success of their nonviolent principles which led to civil liberties here (to whatever degree the CRM was successful) and in their ignorance of the history of Ireland, they tried to get the IRA to adopt nonviolent, peaceful civil disobedience.

At the end of their tour of Belfast, where they learned the history and politics of Irish resistance, all of them come to the conclusion that here violence is necessary. The Irish have exhausted all other means including nonviolent ones. Even if some of the CRM leaders maintained nonviolence as paramount, they understood that certain exceptions must be made because — regardless of if they approve of violence or not — their job is to support colonized people and follow their lead.

There is a lesson here that we should apply to the Palestinian struggle.

I’ve seen people pearl clutch over seeing so many dead Palestinians as part of the colonial violence of the camera. This misses the point of why those images are being shared.

Last decade many Black americans, myself included, talked about the commodification of Black death. videos of state murder plastered on every news channel 24/7, going viral across social media platforms connected to the legacy of lynching postcards and gator bait. We demonstrated that those videos rarely got an indictment and only once a conviction. Many of the families of these victims of police murder made it clear they don’t want the image of their loved one to be of death. The reason why we share Michael Brown’s graduation photo instead of the photo of his corpse is because Lesley McSpadden demanded it. With all this in mind, we understand that in most cases the sharing of those images are antiblack.

The Palestinians do not have that history. The Nakba never happened, despite israelis calling this the second Nakba. genocide joe said 40 israeli babies were beheaded after it was found out that the story was some wingnut footsoldier’s lie, not even official israeli hasbara. It was like 2 weeks ago that genocide joe said the number of murdered Palestinians (at the time around 5,000 Palestinians were martyred — the number is now over 10,000) was a Hamas lie.

Linguistically there is no murdered Palestinian. All the headlines read “x amount of israelis killed and some palestinians died”. visually there is no dead Palestinian. official israeli hasbara is trying to flood social media with videos of patient-actors getting into place in Indonesian medical training programs to “debunk” the countless videos of martyred Palestinians.

The denial of the scale of israel’s genocide of the Palestinians is so bad that reporters in Gaza are holding dead children in front of press cameras because Palestinians do not die and are not murdered.

The profit motive of these images is actually in their absence. not their over saturation like with Black americans. The west needs israel as a destabilizing force in the middle east. The strategy of the western media then is to bury these images, to not give them a second of attention. So logically the Palestinian strategy is to proliferate these images to show just how horrifying israel’s crimes are.

Two things can be true at the same time; what works for you doesn’t necessarily work for me etc.

The other thing i’m seeing are liberal frameworks to understand genocide. Of particular ire is desirability politics. *jujubee voice* just say white supremacy.

Desirability is tertiary at best. israel is genociding Palestinians because they want control over Gaza and the West Bank (and Lebanon too). They are not genociding Palestinians because Palestinians are “undesirable.” They make Palestinians undesirable to justify taking their land. Talking about this psychoanalytic bullshit distracts from the primary reason for the displacement and mass murder of Palestinians: the taking of their land.

~*desirability*~ is just one way that israel tries to justify its crimes. Desirability is a circular logic that can only make sense once you manufacture its premise irl. It means nothing without the material conditions it claims are true. Its super easy to call someone an animal after you put them in a cage. It’s super easy to call a people dirty savages after you restrict their access to water. It’s super easy to call someone violent after you sequester them in small, barely livable spaces and stress them with bombings and check points.

It’s also — there’s a way in which opposition to something reifies the very thing that you oppose. Toni Morrison continues to beat everybody’s ass. What does it do when you see a baby with half a skull and say “this happened because she is undesirable”? Undesirable to whom? Not me.

Palestinians are not so passive as to oppose white supremacy and desirability. The Palestinian people are a proactive people. Palestine is the issue. Palestine has a people. Palestine has an ecology. Palestine has life. Palestine is life. Palestinians fight for life. life can neither exist nor blossom under white supremacy.

Any analysis that does not begin with this is a distraction. And distractions only benefit the colonizers.

[flutterbyoz]

And we are here at the finale of The Ones Who Live. An episode that aired a year ago today that may, or may not be, the final time we see this beautiful family.

As with each and every episode of TOWL, I loved 'The Last Time'. Lots of Richonne being the power couple we all know them to be but also being the loving and devoted husband and wife and parents we adore.

From the very first scene, a very hot, sexy, romantic, intimate and gorgeously shot scene where Rick placed the ring on Michonne's finger to Rick voicing his regret at missing out on so much over the years and then promising Michonne they wouldn't be apart again to the amazing family reunion at the end, I was captivated.

I know there are some people who felt this was rushed, that the CRM was taken down too easily but I have to disagree. TOWL was never about the CRM, they were never the focus, this spin off is about Rick and Michonne, its about their love, their connection, their fight to reunite and get back home to their children. And also the CRM isn't gone completely, it's still there and could still be a threat.

I thought this episode completed these 6 episodes perfectly and their reunion at the end, wow! I had a feeling it was coming but to see it actually happen, to see Michonne reunite with Judith and RJ and then to watch Rick see his daughter again after so long and finally meet his son was just so beautiful. It was perfect and I couldn't have asked for anything more.

As for whether this is the last time we see the Grimes, I have to say I'm perfectly fine with whatever happens. If this is the end then I couldn't be happier, they got their well deserved happy ending and I'd be more than content to say TWD ends here for me. But, it would also be wonderful to see them again, as long as Andy and Danai have control once more. They are the only ones I trust to continue their story.

I want to thank Andy, Danai and Scott for giving us the perfect continuation and possible end to the Richonne story, we have been truly blessed with TOWL and we are so lucky to have such dedicated, caring, respectful and talented ship captains at the helm.

Whether or not we see them again, they have given us everything and I'll forever be grateful and feel so lucky to have found such a beautiful once in a lifetime ship.

[lilgoblinbitch]

saw your post about rick and daryl, do you think you could write a rick TOWL smut with him angry that you left your post and got yourself injured and he takes out his frustration on you? idk why just had that idea after the recent episode😫

Grimes' Dominion 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

a/n: ahhh omg yes i actually had time to think abt this for a few nights. i added a bit of plot to this because i love me some backstory & descriptions. but anyway i made this pretty lengthy so if u wanna skip to the smut part just look for the '💋'. here is your plotty smut! lmk your thoughts ₊˚⊹♡

warnings: smut 18+, PinV, unprotected sex, oral/face fucking (male receiving), slight bondage, fingering, ass slapping, hair pulling, orgasm denial, degradation (use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’), language, mentions of blood and injury, angsty angsty angst!, reader is a mother, overall Rick is very rough so you have been warned

wc: 6k

MDNI

It was training day at your post. You had recently graduated from consignee and signed up to become a CRM soldier. It took you six whole years to get to this point. While your agility and militia knowledge were already unprecedented, the CRM didn't fuck around when it came to producing the world's most unrivalled soldiers. It was serious business.

Nearly eight years ago, you trekked a long journey down from your small community in southern New Jersey. You lost everything: your husband, your friends, and the people you lived with and grew stronger with through the grisly and dilapidated post-apocalyptic world. Terrible people – which were apparently becoming more and more common – destroyed your community, leaving very few survivors. It was you and your newborn child who managed to escape safely; you weren't able to go back to see if others had made it out. For almost two years you were alone, and your only hope left was keeping your baby boy alive...

Fast forward two years after the traumatic fallout you managed to escape, you discovered, or rather you were found by, a giant military in Pennsylvania, called the CRM. A military that bordered and protected a whole city of people – 200,000 of them. Out of desperation and maternal instinct, you bargained with the militia in hopes to give your two-year-old son a stable future. The CRM agreed to place your son in a 'nurturing fostering service' within the safe confines of the protected city – known as the Civic Republic of Philadelphia – so long as you swore to abide by the military's code and regulations by becoming a consignee.

Of course you agreed, because you were nonetheless terrified of what would happen to your baby boy if you didn't play it safe with this strong force. But for a while you lost it, you couldn't bear not seeing your child – they took him from you. You became defensive of your child, throwing yourself into dilemmas with whoever refused to listen to you. Except no one ever took notice of an angry and hurt mother because the CRM showed little mercy about their policies. And no matter how much force you put into finding hope about getting to your son, you'd always end up falling right back where you left off.

Soon enough you learned from acquiring an acquaintance that not only did the CRM take the only family you had left away from you, they were the ones responsible for destroying your home in the first place.

But now, six years later, you were predisposed to fight whoever and whatever got in your way in order to see your son again. You were a force to be reckoned with.

"No, you're doing it wrong. You gotta follow through, like this—" your sweaty hand maneuvered the heavy spear, sending it soaring through the air at high speed and finally piercing the bullseye of the target. You turned to the soldier beside you, who, to say the least, looked perplexed.

"What?" You huffed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of your face. "Ya give up? Need a break?"

"’Ey! Rogers, I'mma need ya to head back inside. We're gonna start sizing you all up for your new gear."

A brooding and strict man, Sergeant Major Rick Grimes, commanded the young man beside you. "Uh, yes sir," he saluted, then jogged toward the dome-shaped building.

Rick Grimes used to be a consignee like you were, and you even heard stories where he tried escaping at least four times. No one ever fled, or even attempted to, without failing. Escaping the hellhole was like trying to fit your right shoe on your left foot, it was entirely fruitless. But you heard all the stories about Rick, and how he got to become a leader. After the death of Lieutenant Colonel Donald Okafor, Rick was trained to replace his position by virtue of General Beale taking note of his loyalty to the military. Now, Rick was scaling further up the ranks. He was Sergeant Major, and in charge of the post you currently resided in.

You looked up to him, though, not because he was your leader, but because he understood you. He recognized how it felt to have your family ripped from your hands and not be able to do anything about it. You were able to bond with him. Most nights he would invite you to his apartment and the two of you'd spill your guts to one another over a glass or two of bourbon. That is how he got to know you, and see through your clouded demeanor that you kept in check. You were fierce and obstinate, because the place you were trapped in forced you to be that way, and truthfully Rick admired that about you. He was never able to relate with someone as well as he did with you.

Feedback echoed from Rick's receiver and he lifted it to his masked face, stating his position and whatnot. You crossed your arms, waiting for him to give you an order. "Well?"

He turned his attention to you, finally. "We need to talk." His one good hand snagged a hold of your arm and guided you toward a smaller brick-designed building, which you recognized to be the building that housed the high ranking officials like Rick himself.

"What do we need to talk about? And why is Rogers getting his gear but I'm not?" You struggled against his grip, a decision that ended with futility as his clutch tightened when you tried pulling away from him. You furrowed your brows and grunted in annoyance.

"Relax, sweetheart, you're not in trouble. Actually it's quite the opposite." Once again he faced you, stopping in his tracks as you both had reached the air-conditioned building. His grasp on your arm loosened and then reached for his matte black helmet detailed with red outlining. Your eyes darted across the room, taking in the essence of prestige and momentarily locking in on the various framed photos on the walls, which depicted a few recognizable CRM authoritative figures. One particular photo caught your attention, and you carefully examined it, discerning it to be Rick himself with a shiny black name plate decorating the bottom of the frame.

Your gaze finally diverted back to Rick, whose helmet popped off in a swift motion, freeing his slightly disheveled brown and gray curls, and his stern blue eyes – the spellbinding reflections to his enigmatic soul. And this man was undoubtedly a sight for sore eyes. 

The silence was disrupted by the shuffling of Rick’s boots, his curt footsteps leading him across the room. He pulled out a chair from the corner and without any trouble picked it up with one hand and set it down across from a dark wooden desk. “Sit.” He motioned to the chair, and then found a seat in the larger, more cushioned chair adjacent to it. Without a peep you sauntered over to the wooden chair and sat, folding your hands on the desk in front of you. 

“You gonna keep me on edge or are you gonna tell me why I’m here and not at training and getting my gear?”

His serious eyes bored into yours now, hinting that he wasn’t in the mood for your cynicism. “I brought you in here to tell you that you’re going to become Colonel under my order.”

You scoffed comically and dropped your hands to your sides, gripping the chair with force. “That’s ridiculous. Me – Colonel? Why?” 

Rick’s focus never left your unserious face – one that was twisted with amusement. With a slight tilt of his head, he spoke, “Because you’re one of the best fighters and you’re fit to start leading, I know it. And I trust you, so does Major General Beale. We both expect your habitual commitment from now on.”

While you were still preoccupied with processing this information, Rick reached into one of his sleeve pockets and pulled out a silver badge, decorated with ‘Col.’ followed by your full name. He slid it across the desk toward you and you scrutinized it before giving him a look of disapproval and sliding the badge back to him. You shook your head in defiance.

“No thanks.” 

He frowned and once again his frigid stare taunted you, something you’d undoubtedly gotten used to very much over the past few years that you'd known him. He leaned forward and for a second you could feel the steam emitting from his nose as he exhaled, eyes scanning your face for any signs of possible sarcasm. You were dead serious now, though.

“This isn’t an offer you can refuse. It’s an order,” the sergeant commanded, grabbing the badge reiteratively and this time placing it firmly into your hand. “So take it, and don’t lose it.” 

You remained perched in your spot, not stirring any muscle, just studying his face with the badge dancing across your fingertips. Rick was not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. “Now do as I say, and meet me in that meeting room over there, in 10 minutes.”

You snarled and swiftly rose, shoving the badge into your zipper pocket. Without even giving Rick another look you booked it out the door full tilt.

All throughout meeting with Grimes and Command Sergeant Major Thorne and overlooking your shared brigade of soldiers, your mind couldn’t escape the worry you had about your son, and how you were going to escape and find him. Your mind raced as you tried to recollect what the map of your base looked like, so that you could pinpoint which weak spots there were around the perimeter.

You recall a little while back which security took which shifts at each area of the southwest perimeter where your complex was, but it wasn’t all that simple since sometimes they’d switch shifts around. However, security officers periodically switched their attention to different areas at a time out along the walls, so you could use that as leverage to sneak your way around and cut a hole in one of the fences–

Nah. That would be too obvious, and dangerously stupid. You needed to really think this through – come up with a strategic plan. So that’s what you were prepared to do after your first night of training as Colonel. 

Sweaty and disheveled, you entered your sleeping quarters and kicked the door shut, immediately peeling off your bulky armor and tossing your heavy combat boots across the floor. With a satisfactory sigh, you trotted over to the shower and flipped the handle all the way to the left – you needed a steamy shower to filter out all the stress your body had been loaded with that day. Not only that, the steam would help you think, and you needed your head clear if you were going to figure out how to leave successfully that night. 

If you were going to escape – if. You needed to keep that thought in mind, because it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a piece of cake.

Frantically you shoved a handful of essentials into a black backpack – a lighter, duct tape, a pocket knife, flashlight, and a small glock you 'borrowed' from your trip with rick to the armory earlier. After zipping up the bag you threw on your combat boots and your gloves. You checked your watch for the time; 11:48 it read. The moon was scintillating in the sky and beaming with conviction. You took one last glimpse around the room to check if you had forgotten any extra tools or gadgets, and before you confirmed that you were ready to head out, you spotted something on the rusty gunmetal colored nightstand.

Inquisitively you wandered over to the table and examined a small, white folded paper. You unfolded it and inside it read, in urgent script:

“Meet me at my place at 11:30 tonight. Need to talk again.

-R.G.”

Too late now. Not happening. Besides, you were sure it was another booty call because for one, on busy task days like tonight, Rick often had a knack for ‘letting off steam,’ which meant fucking your brains out. Sorry, Rick, but my child is more important to me than easing your sexual frustration. And two, it was already reaching midnight…why else would he want to “talk” to you so late at night? Rick was just too obvious.

Speaking of Rick…

The man who shared his bourbon with you for the first time two years ago. That very night he had spilled to you CRM’s legacy and the nightmares behind it. The two of you bonded over your mutual grievance toward the antagonizing militia. Rick spurred hope in you finally leaving and finding your son; if anyone could help you escape it was him. But he changed – his interest in leaving the CRM no longer seemed to exist. After all, he was already climbing his way up the military rank. He was gaining power and respect, and that seemed to be more crucial to him then getting back to his own children. 

So, screw him. He had his chance to leave with you, and it already passed – because now you were tiptoeing out your apartment and being welcomed into the darkness of the night.

You were cautious of your surroundings, turning a few corners and eluding one or two officers. You noticed the southwest wall, which didn't look impossible to climb. You discovered a hefty pile of broken shipment container parts – bingo. And that's what you used to climb the wall. unfortunately your endeavor led to you stumbling and hitting both your knee and your arm against the metal object, then landing with your hands scraping against the unforgiving concrete. Fuck. What an idiot you were. Surely someone within about twenty feet of you heard you basically eat shit.

Gritting your teeth and whimpering from the twinge that shot through your knees and hands, you managed to put every fiber of your being to use and push yourself off the ground, only to end up on your ass with a humph. You winced as you peeked at your hands, using the flashlight from your bag to examine how badly cut they were. Blood leaked from multiple crevices in your palms, and you didn’t even bother paying much mind to your bruised knee or elbows because there was no time to dawdle.

“Shit. You need to get up now!” You scolded yourself, but as you tried standing up completely, your knees buckled. Well, at least behind this building it was dark enough for no one to see you, unless they heard you already…

Your alert ears picked up the sound of shoes marching upon the solid ground, and you cursed to yourself; someone was coming, but there was nothing you could do because they had already heard you most likely. “Just play dead, or pretend you passed out!” 

You heard your name being called out from somewhere behind you.

The pace of your heartbeat quickened drastically, causing your head to spin toward the voice. Well, shit. It was Rick Grimes himself. This time his helmet wasn’t on and he seemed to have abandoned his uniform. He was instead dressed in jeans and that black tee that always hugged his muscles so perfectly–

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice boomed in your ears as he knelt down to your level, and you shivered.

You wheezed and resumed your pursuit of getting your ass off the wretched ground, to which you failed. Rick noticed the cuts and bruises decorating your injured body and his face softened. He sighed, gathering your belongings, and then in one swift motion he lifted you up off your feet, holding you bridal-style. You bit your lip to stop the tears forming in your eyes; your plan backfired, you got caught, and now everything was out of your control. You felt so stupid and useless.

Rick shifted around with you in his arms, taking one last glance at your injured figure. “Oh, honey. Let’s get ya cleaned up now.”

He had carried you all the way to his room without any hindrances, and the whole time you honestly thought about kicking out of his tight grasp, nailing him where the sun doesn't shine, and booking it out of there. But the way his strong arms cradled you made you melt into him.

Rick lay you onto his large – well, larger than your own – neatly made bed and pulled your shoes and socks off. Before he could reach your pant zipper to pull them down and examine your knee, you slapped his hand away, scowling at him.

“I can do it,” you promised, although of course your trembling hands reaching for the zipper illustrated a paradoxical story.

Not to mention, the stained blood and soreness reminded you that you needed to ease up on any further use of them. It felt like carpal tunnel. Damn, that concrete did some numbers on you. Your exasperated grunts caught Rick’s attention and he ignored your misleading comment, zipping your pants down and peeling them off himself. The look you gave him could have been detected as either annoyed or demoralized. Either way, your body was weary and your mind still raced with unrelenting thoughts. 

Rick brought back a wet cloth and a first aid kit he kept under his sink. Gingerly, he brushed the cloth over your battered hands and then bandaged them up. You let out a few pained huffs while he went to work on your scraped hands and busted knee with his doctor abilities. When finished, his eyes scanned your body, being certain he didn’t miss any other wounds or minor cuts.

You, however, were busy ogling him; his beautifully sculpted figure that was outlined by the black t-shirt he wore, and the scruff that layered his defined jaw, and the way his pink lips pursed as his rough hand prodded your exposed flesh – it sent you into a trance. 

He adjusted his gaze back to your face, and you snapped out of your trance promptly, painting that stern cast back on your expressive face. You recalled why you were irritated with him in the first place – he prevented you from escaping.

“Y’alright now? Gonna tell me why you were scurrying around past midnight with this bag on you?”

Your hard stare didn’t falter. He tsked at you and grabbed the backpack off the ground, unzipping it, and dumping its contents onto the bed. When he recognized the gun to be one from the armory, it was his turn to scowl at you.

“You better start talking before I get angry, sweetheart.” His body flexed as he folded his arms across his chest, eyes cornering you and making you feel small.

“I was–” you cleared your throat and sat up with your hands on your bare thighs, “I was going to escape, Rick. I… I need to see him…”

Rick lowered his head to the floor in disappointment, rubbing the bridge of his nose while his other arm rested on his hip. He paced the room. “You knew this was going to happen. We even planned it together, for fuck’s sake!” You pleaded with him, emotion spilling from your lips. You stared at his back, watching the way his muscles tensed. “I have a child I haven’t seen in years and I–”

“Yeah, so do I!” He interrupted, “But that life is over, there is no more escape plan pipe dream. Don’t you get it?!”

His pacing ceased, and he waited for your focus to meet him. When it did, he inched toward you daringly, almost wanting you to test his patience.

“I got you that ranking because I trusted you and expected you to be cooperative with me in this mission. I was planning on trying to convince Beale to let you visit your boy but that won’t be for a while. I need your trust in this,” Rick’s footsteps approached the bed, his towering figure intimidating you. “Do you understand? Look at me—” his rough hand pinched the sides of your chin to tilt your head up at him. 

Your lips cracked open to speak but truthfully nothing could be said in that moment. The tension in the air was heavy and laced with despondency. You choked trying to enunciate words as you felt your shoulders drop, and your heart chugging on. Soon you gathered yourself from breaking down in front of him, masking the persistent commotion going on inside the walls of your skull, and the unabated sense of dread pouring over your body. You nodded your head in compliance and Rick released your chin.

This was a confirmation that Rick was never going to let you get away. And if he did end up finding a way for you to see your boy, living under an unlawful and controlling military organization was not something you stood for. With or without Rick, you needed to escape with your son, using any proper chance that swung your way. But if it was going to be without Rick, you needed to be secretive. 

You batted your eyes at him, aiming to give him a reason to believe that you were officially yielding to him. The way you looked under him, all battered and desperate, made a spark ignite in his brain. You belonged in this position – underneath him, following his lead, and obeying his orders. He was going to need to show you how insistent he really was.

Your attention remained undivided. Rick stepped backwards a foot and took in the sight of you – your whole body and the way your thighs begged to be kissed and touched.

“I’m assuming you saw the note I left you, right?” His tone dripping with vehemence and his southern drawl rasping, relaying a yearning to your eager core, which you attempted to ease by clenching your thighs. He certainly did not miss that.

“So you were planning on not only ignoring my note, but being reckless and trying to leave this post and then, what? Risk getting caught and dying and never getting to see your son ever? You need to get your head on right, and I’m telling you this from experience, because it’s never going to work out the way you want it to, no matter how perfectly you think your plan will go.”

You gulped and studied your hands, which were thankfully stinging much less. You fiddled with the bandage, until Rick demanded your attention with his authoritative tone.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you to cooperate with me. Keep that in mind,” he warned.

Your front teeth bit into your pouty bottom lip as you struggled to make yourself look uncritical of his “plan.” Rick’s eyes targeted your every move as you, this time successfully, propped yourself up and off the bed, bending down to grab your pants which were sprawled out next to your feet. 

💋

“What were you gonna talk to me about, y’know….if I ended up showing up earlier?” You flipped the pant legs so that they were no longer inside out.

“I was gonna do this—” Your heart quickened as he neared you rapidly, his arms finding themselves exploring your body and causing goosebumps to multiply across your vulnerable skin. He dexterously greeted his lips to yours, catching you by surprise. The man was quick with it. 

You melted into the kiss while his hands continued to trace your curves, eliciting longing whimpers from your throat. You craved his touch.

Breaking away from the kiss, the Sergeant gave you no time to protest, spinning you around so that your back was facing him. Taking your jaw prisoner in the tight clutch of his hand, his hot breath fanned against your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck come alive. “Originally I was going to fuck you gently, make you relax from your big day—” His hand slid to the middle of your back and he forcefully bent you over on the bed, scoring a small grunt from you. He took your pulled back hair into his hand and with a tantalizing tug of it, he pushed his clothed hips against your bare ass. “But now I’m not gonna be so easy on you, because you decided to go and put yourself in danger. Well, I’m gonna have to punish you instead of reporting you, hm? For your own sake…” 

Your heat practically leaked through your panties and down the inner part of your thighs. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you loved when he was rough with you. It stirred you up with the perfect concoction of salaciousness and angst.

Still, your alacrity temporarily repressed your aroused state and you barked back at him, “All I want is to see my son…you have no goddamn right to take that from me, Rick,” you cried, with your trembling hands supporting your upper body as he gripped your hips.

Rick delivered a firm slap to your ass cheek, then promptly straightened you up and turned you around to meet his sifting stare. You gulped, feeling submissive under his touch. You watched the way he contorted his face in vexation and you abruptly felt overpowered by him.

“In case you’ve forgotten you are under my command, and if you disobey me I have every right to correct you where I see fit,” he eyed your pout, huffing, “and I fucking told you already – you have to be patient, it’s gonna take a while.”

The hope you had was dwindling slowly, even though you really wanted to trust him. It almost felt like putting your full trust in him was equivalent to playing with fire. You couldn’t tell the difference between the two anymore. But ultimately Rick was right, you were under his command and the very least you could do at this moment was take his word.

His leer intensified. “Get on your knees.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and felt the command jolt through your body with a cogent nudge. You conformed to his request and scrunched your face in slight discomfort from your bruised knee making contact with the floor, but it was still tolerable. With urgency he unbuckled his belt and wasted no time in freeing his thick, throbbing length. The sight of his cock was not something foreign, as you’d slept with him many times; but the way he was so much more ambitious in getting his cock inside your mouth and feeling you gag around him, made you squirm.

The restless man bucked his hips forward, enjoying the way your soft pouty lips hugged his shaft so magnificently. You moaned softly, the vibration inciting a groan from Rick as he grabbed at your hair. “Gotta do more than tha’. I know you know how to be a good slut f’me.”

You took his whole length in your throat, feeling spit drip down your chin as you choked. You started to bob your head back and forth, becoming accustomed to the size of his dick and how it collided with the back of your throat incessantly. He took it upon himself to grasp your head and guide you up and down as his hips pushed against your needy mouth. Your tongue traced the veins that protruded across his length, as your head quickened its pace. His grunts echoed in your ears and you prepared for his sweet release when you apperceived the twitch of his cock against your tongue. 

“Fuck, yes…good slut,” Rick sung out as he thrusted thrice more, shooting his thick warm seed down your throat and riding out the remainder of his orgasm. He pulled out and stared intently at your lips licking up the remnants of his juices while panting. His hand patted your head in approval.

“You think you deserve to cum tonight?” He taunted, his hold on your hair taut.

You didn’t respond, but instead observed the way his muscles flexed when he lifted his shirt off his back, and how he flattened his hair back with the palm of his hand. You were getting wetter by the second, shifting your thighs in anticipation.

You stood up, tracing your hand over his bicep and fluttering your lashes at him enticingly. He smirked, recognizing that look to be your calling for him to fuck your brains out. Your hands reached down to lift your own shirt off, but he swatted them away in protest, throwing the shirt across the room hastily. All you desired was for him to make love to you, to comfort you and promise you that everything was going to work out, and frankly your sore muscles from training could use as much appreciation as they could obtain. But love-making wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.

Rick flopped you onto the bed, and effortlessly your panties were torn off and thrown next to your shirt. He kneaded your tits with his hand then bent over top of you to hungrily kiss your lips. Your fidgety hands stretched up to tussle through his hair but he broke from the kiss to pin both your hands above your head, rousing a dissatisfied whimper from you. The carnal man bent down diligently to grab his belt and release your hands for a moment, before grabbing your wrists and securing the belt around them.

Bondage wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar to you but you had never expected Rick to ever want to partake in it with you. Nonetheless, your core ached further for his touch. His hand went back to pinching your sensitive nipples, while keeping his ferocious eyes locked onto yours, and lowering his head down to your throbbing heat. The lewd mewls escaping your parted lips sent Rick into a frenzy. You bucked your hips up in an attempt to get him to do something, to give your desperate parts the treatment you longed for, except he just remained concentrated on the way you jerked and crumbled beneath him – he wasn’t even touching you anymore, and yet he had you folding already. How pathetic you looked.

“Rick, please do something!” Your pleas left him unphased. The only thought in his mind at that moment was how rough he was eventually going to fuck you. 

Finally, his finger swiped up your soaking folds and came into contact with your swollen clit, giving it a soft pinch, stimulating a ribald whimper from you and inducing your back to arch off the bed. “What d’you want, sweetheart?” His husky tone intimidated you.

“Need you, please. ‘M lonely,” You sniffed, overworked from all the teasing. He cooed in a mocking manner, and with two fingers he plunged into you, sending you into the clouds. 

“This sweet pussy needs attention, dun’it?” He curled his fingers upward, activating that sweet spot inside your squelching sex. With his thumb he circled around your sensitive bud, accelerating the speed of his thick fingers inside your tight, wet hole. Bliss clouded over you, and your head lulled to the side.

Rick hissed, dissenting your lack of eye contact. He yanked his fingers out all the way, giving a slight tap to your voracious cunt.

“Nuh-uh, eyes on me.” The glazed-over look you gave him was enough for him to give in and slide his digits back into your heat, this time being merciless by the way he finger fucked you with racking momentum. 

Your walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers, legs syncing with the rhythm of your swirling hips. Rick sensed your orgasm approaching – he ascertained that you didn't get to reach its peak by ceasing his thumb's labor and plucking his drenched digits out of your weeping center.

Your sensual clamors didn't go unnoticed; instead he hushed you, and bringing his mouth near your ear he rasped, "I decided that you don't get to cum yet. Not till I feel like it."

Rick really loved tossing you around, especially tonight. He arose, untying the belt around your wrists – almost as if he was showing mercy, but that thought was surpassed as he effortlessly flipped you around so your bandaged hands were gripping desperately onto the sheets, as if that'd prevent you from losing your grip on reality from what was about to go down.

Your begging hole cried for his further attention, causing you to become more agitated by the second. That is, until you felt his hard cock slap against your ass cheek, and his hips striking the back of your shaking thighs. The grumpy commander pressed his leather-sling gloved fist slightly against your upper neck, just enough pressure to ensure you stayed where he wanted you. You didn't plan on leaving, though – not until he fucked you to your heart's content.

He could take a picture right now, the way your ass pushed against his solid member so hysterically, as if your pussy lived to be stuffed by his cock. In that moment, it did. Rick grabbed his cock and lined it up with your welcoming entrance, collecting the condensation on his tip.

"God, just fuck me–"

One rigid thrust was all it took for you to fully engulf him. Your eyes rolled to the ceiling, stars eclipsing your vision while his thrust followed another one, this time much deeper.

Your whines bounced off the pale room's walls, alerting Rick, who hushed you with a growl, "Shutch'er mouth, the whole building's gonna hear ya."

A third thrust ensued, with the sound of his pelvic bone smacking against your backside and the echoing of your sodden cunt being governed by his greedy shaft. The wet squishy insides of your walls hugged Rick so magnetically, he almost gave in right there.

His pace picked up with each ram of his hips, and his assault to your clit. Your grip on the sheets tightened, bandages likely slipping off but that wasn't a concern. Shy whimpers were trapped inside your mouth as you gave it your all at keeping your lewd blubbers and cusses at bay. Your soft, muffled cries continued as he pounded into you strenuously and tirelessly.

"You're not gonna try to leave again, not ever." The thumping of his hips on your ass and him fucking you into the mattress was all too much for your brain. "I won't fucking let you."

You felt fuzzy. The dauntless rebel attitude you once had vanished, and now your were a blubbering hot mess under a relentless leader. His bulging biceps flexed as his leather arm continued pushing on your neck, the other hand groping your hip and then going back to flicking your clit as his cock rutted into your core. He fit you like a puzzle piece.

Your walls were pulsating and you sensed your climax approaching quickly. "Oh, fuck, Rick!"

"Don't you even think about it. So help me god, if you do..."

Rick's demands only filled you closer to the brim with pleasure, and you weren't assured how much longer you could hold it. His thrusts became sloppier and sloppier, indicating that he was probably close too.

"Mmmph–" You focused on grasping desperately at the sheets again, trying to fixate on the way the soft fabric felt against your hands and your face which was pushed into the bed.

Rick groaned out, whispering filthy affirmations as his pounding became more jagged and his grunts more urgent. "Wanna fill ya up, but you don'need another baby, not yet."

One last press against your clit and the band finally snapped, your juices releasing all over his cock, and his orgasm causing him to grasp your hips roughly as he used your dripping hole to help him ride out his own orgasm. He pulled out, releasing onto your back with a few strokes of his slippery member.

The bottom half of your body gave in finally, collapsing and being suffocated by the plush mattress. Your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. He truly fucked the energy out of you.

"You gonna try that shit again with me?"

With half-lidded eyes you simpered and muttered, "Not without you."

[tllgrrl]

Grimes 68 by @tllgrrl aka nefertiri jones

Summary: After almost 8 years apart, Michonne finds Rick Grimes, the love of her life and father of their children, and he brings her into the Civic Republic Military. For the time being: 1) She has to pretend to be someone else to avoid being seen as a threat; 2) He has to figure out a plan for the two of them to get out; and 3) They have to try and act like they’re strangers to each other instead of reunited lovers.

(The key word is “try”.)

* * * * *

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

The steel kill sticks striking against the brick wall rang in the parking lot of what was left of a post office.

A former postal service semi that now had protective grills over the windows led the next herd of the dead, or what the CRM called “deltas”— “delts” for short—into the large space on the one side of the harvest wall.

The shuffling hoard was drawn by the noise and flashing lights mounted on the truck.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

The consignees readied themselves on the other side, and as the delts shambled to open spaces in the wall, each one was met with a blow that drove a sharp, prong-ended spear (“kill stick”) into its skull, followed by a twist of the wrist that destroyed its brain, effectively and finally killing it.

It was a repetitive, bloody, mind-numbing grind, and some said that it was brutal for the workers because it wasn’t easy to completely forget that the delts were once living human beings too.

Grimes had done his time at The Wall. He’d even become a legend with the number of kills he could rack up in a shift.

It was painted in big letters on the side of a nearby building, for all to see:

GRIMES 68.

He was also well-known for the number of attempts he’d made to do something no one else in the City wanted to do: Escape. Wanting to leave the safety and security of the CR so badly that he actually cut off his own shackled hand at the wrist, only to fail again and be brought back to the Wall.

Time and time again an officer in the Civic Republic Military gave him a chance to join up, and he refused each offer, preferring to be at the culling facility, killing the dead and planning his next escape attempt.

Then one day, he accepted the offer. He traded his Consignee jacket for a CRM uniform. Instead of using a kill stick, he got a fancy, deadly prosthetic hand with a retractable blade. He got all kinds of specialized training, all the perks as he rose through the ranks, and he never had to cull delts again.

But now, after having been gone for years, there he was. Back at the Wall. Watching.

Watching her.

The new consignee.

The dark-skinned Black woman with her hair cut short on one side of her head, exposing a beautiful profile; and locs cascading down just past her shoulder in the back and on the other side of her face .

The woman who, after her on-boarding interview, was designated a Type “B”, seeking safety, willing to work, and keeping to herself, but had the carriage and demeanour of an “A” who was always observing, was more than capable of defending herself, and being a provider of safety. A leader.

Word soon got around among the Consignees that the ex-consignee/now military officer known as “the famous Rick Grimes” had not only survived a chopper crash, but he’d started showing up at the harvest wall. Coming back to a place he’d gotten away from years earlier, only to return when a mysterious new consignee was brought into the CRM.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“Hey. Look who just pulled up,” said a consignee who had her red hair tied back with, of all things, a bright pink ribbon that was tied in a bow.

“Holy shit! ‘zat Grimes?” another consignee added, tying a bandana on his head, cholo style, then slipping on his face shield. “He doesn’t have to be here any more. What’s up with that?”

“Bethune’s not-so-secret admirer,” snickered the worker to pink bow’s left, stabbing his kill stick into a delt that sagged and dropped. “She doesn’t see him yet. But she knows he’s there. Watch. In 3..2..1.”

Michonne—known to the other consignees as “Dana Bethune” —stationed at the far end of the wall, continued to methodically dispatch delts.

Then she stopped, looked over her shoulder, and found the tall CRM officer. Standing there, at ease, even with his helmet and face guard on, she knew he was watching her.

It seemed like they stood there, the only people at the wall. 5…10…15 minutes. Watching each other. Breathing the same air. At last…

3 seconds later, she turned her head back to the oncoming delts, and went back to work.

Behind her mask, the other consignees couldn’t see the small smile that graced her lips, or hear her whisper “I found you.”

Behind his mask, no one could see the CRM officer smile as he whispered “You found me.”

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“You see that?” drawled the consignee to pink bow’s right, continuing to spear oncoming delts. “Somethin’s up with those two.”

“I know, right? For the past two weeks, he’s here. Same time every day she’s on shift, just before third break. Look at him lookin’. Even wearin’ the consignee jacket, the mask, an’ her hair all tucked in, it only takes him a second to find her. And a second for her to know he’s here. Like they’re—”

“Might could be that ass is imprinted on his brain!” laughed a big man nearby with a bushy black beard.

“Maybe it’s because she saved his life out there.”

“Peterson said somethin’ about that. It’s true?”

“‘parently so. His chopper went down. Got blown right outta the sky and crashed.”

“You serious?!”

“Word is it was a scrub with some kinda RPG an’ shit,” a consignee added to the story while wiping a splatter of brains and blood off of his face guard.

“Stop lyin’! How’d they even get that? After the Fall, CRM took over most of the bases out there with a quickness.”

“There was military stuff out in the wild even before everything went to shit. All kinds o’ stuff is still out there,” bushy beard opined. “Shouldn’t be a surprise all these years later somebody has a bazooka or some ordinance hidden away. There’s jeeps, even tanks here and there. I lived in one for a couple o’ months before I got found and brought here. CRM scoops ‘em up quick as they can, but—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. So anyway, the scuttlebut’s that Sargent Major Loverboy there, an’ the other troopers jumped out of the wrecked chopper an’ the scrub starts firein’ on ‘em. The ones he could catch, he slit their throats…with a sword.”

“A what?” bandana scoffed, stabbing into what was left of the next delt’s face. “Get outta here with that BS, man!”

“I’m just tellin’ you what I heard! Grimes was about ta get got, when Bethune comes runnin’ outta the woods, grabs one of the dead trooper’s weapons and shoots the scrub!”

“Wow. Maybe that’s why he’s here all the time,” pink bow chuckled. “Hell, I’d be in love with her too.”

“Get in line,” beard snarked. “You really think those two know each other?”

“Know each other?” the woman laughed, stabbed a delt and shook its eyeball off of her kill stick. “I think they’re fuckin’.”

“No way!” bandana exclaimed. “She just got here!”

<<<Good work, Section 5 and 6 Consignees. Bethune and Clifton, please report to post-shift health check before boarding transport.>>>

“Think about it,” pink bow explained. “Grimes is an officer on the inside now and doesn’t need to be at the Harvest Wall any more. Who’d come back to this shit after their 6 years of consignment is up? Now, all of a sudden, he’s back. Out here almost every day. Why?”

She tipped her head toward the driveway and they watched Grimes remove his helmet and turn completely around to watch “why” aka “Dana Bethune” walk past, avoiding his eyes.

*CLANK…CLANK…CLANK…*

“Oh, yeah…” pink bow grinned. “They’re fuckin’.”

* * * * *

This bit of nonsense was inspired by The Walking Dead spin-off, The Ones Who Live - Episode 3: “Bye”.

Click HERE for the AO3 version.

Thank you for reading!

[onlyifyoubadd]

HOLY FUCK! WE WERE FED SO MUCH!

not only did we get the rj reveal and them talking about their SON, but we also got them talking about michonne's branding and how she had to kill her friend, how she almost died getting to him, michonne carressing rick's amputation, rick crying while their making love, michonne's processing guilt over leaving her kids, bickering while killing walkers then killing walkers as a team while kissing intermittently, michonne being like "i dont give a fuck if this building comes down around us, sit yo ass down!", rick crying about how the crm took carl away from him, rick saying he wouldnt survive without her, they started in the apartment fighting and returned to it to make up, then riding off into the sunset with rick taking off his uniform!!!!

DANAI OUR QUEEN!

[thehedgerider]

Folks out here either mad at Michonne or mad at Rick. It’s like y’all never watched S7. Admittedly the season was trash and led to me stepping away from the show, but the key points for what’s happening between Richonne now can be found there along with the show’s title.

It took the CRM 6 yrs to do to Rick what Negan did in one night and that’s break him to the point of accepting defeat. Man spent the first half of the season traumatized, frazzled and desperate to get TF to accept the way things were for their own safety.

Michonne saw the same heads get bashed, saw Carl almost lose his arm, etc but instead of it breaking her, it made her more angry and determined for them to take their lives back. And she was more than a little frustrated and angry with Rick because he wasn’t able to see how that was even possible.

Sound familiar??????

Bottom line, Michonne got her work cut out for her in ep 4. Because instead of the having the 2nd half of S7 to piece Rick’s confidence back together she’s probably only going to have one night, but the outcome will be the same. Except this time, instead of getting a cat sculpture, Rick’s prolly gonna give her Jadis’ head.