#fucking. i need to quit this job anyways so I gan get one that actually gives me health insurance

[esoomris]

the worst part about having a big stupid crying breakdown at work is you still have to go back there tomorrow. and people will be all like “why did you do that yesterday” and you have to admit to being insane

[human-trash-fire]

Beautiful Disaster: Chapter 5 (Pynch Soulmate AU)

Alrighty my loves, this chapter has been a labor of love from the beginning. As you continue reading you will see art pieces and each is correlated with a song (those will be at the end), and references yet again will be made to the EMFS playlist (Ronan’s rehab playlist- I’ve actually made it on spotify! you can find it here)

As usual you can find this story on Ao3 @ glam_reaper 2 if you’re interested <3

TW: Mention of suicide attempt, a panic attack though not super descriptive, cannon typical language.

Iv.

You,

I made a friend last week.

I know for most people that wouldn’t be a big deal, but I assume by now You understand what that means for someone like me. I guess “friend” may be a generous term? I don’t know if we are there yet, Blue definitely disagrees with him “on principle.” 

You see, President Cellphone as she calls him, or Richard Campbell Gansey III (I know, what a douchey fucking name) is all boat shoes and privledge and perfect teeth. Gansey isn’t someone I’d normally associate with mind you, Henry kind of met my quota for rich extroverts in the inner circle, and yet…

So, here’s the story. I’m writing my last letter right? And I was so fucking lost. I decided to walk home from Nino’s- I thought maybe it would help me settle. And there, right around the corner is this fucking ‘73 camero. It should have been beautiful, really.. A classic like that? It’s a dream to look at. Only this fucking thing is the UGLIEST color of candy orange you could ever imagine… And it’s blowing smoke all over the damn place. I was honestly going to leave boat-shoes to call his daddy or mechanic or what have you, but he looked so confused. I offered to help him out and was able to get it running long enough to get to Boyd’s.

I expected him to just drop off “The Pig” (the car) like any normal person and come back for it, only I apparently made “quite the impression.”

Gansey ended up staying with me, prattling on about his Masters History program and some welsh king the ENTIRE time I worked on the damn car. At first I was tuning him out, but without realizing it I became completely entranced by the whole story. I’ve never seen such passion for anything, and I have VERY spirited friends.

He has one of those voices you know? The kind that can stop a room, raise an army, lead a nation. The kind that demands to be heard without ever having to raise itself.

That’s Gansey though.

I think he’ll be good for me, I don’t think he’d give me much of a choice in the matter though to be honest. He kind of adopted me this week? That should bother me and yet, being around him is just… It’s being included. It’s a sense of purpose.

I think he needs it too, he doesn’t seem to talk about negative things but you can tell, he’s haunted by something. That’s what solidified it for me really. He may be a senator’s son but he’s seen some shit. 

I wish you could have met him, I wonder if you would have been as intrigued by him as I find myself. 

Blue is being a total idiot about him, but I’m about 82% sure it’s because she is into him. I know for sure the feeling is mutual. It took Gans approximately 15 minutes after meeting Blue to ask me for her life story, offend her beyond measure, and then haul ass out of Nino’s. It was the first time I’d seriously laughed in so long. Have you ever been second-hand embarrassed for someone? It was that. 

I’m going to wrap this up now though, I need to head to Nino’s for my shift, Blue’s working so of course Gans is stopping by. He said he’s bringing one of his best friends with him, some dude named Noah. Apparently he’s pretty cool, so I’m moderately less apprehensive. He said he wished he could bring his other best friend/ his and Noah’s third roommate but the guy is staying with family for a few months or something. Idk? He doesn’t talk about the other roommate much. I honestly don’t even think he’s ever said his name. Who gives a shit though, I can barely handle one new friend, let alone a 3-pack of Ganseys. Good God… I hope Noah isn’t another Gansey…. Fuck.

Welp.

Here goes nothing.

*****

It started with a not-so-subtle idea from the esteemed Dr. Allen. “Show me what happened.” Ronan was never great with words before all this, and since… When he spoke it was usually a litany of curse words. So Dr. Allen had suggested art. In the weeks since his entombment in this fine rehabilitation center, Ronan had kind of already been doing what he was being asked to do now. Though, he didn’t mention it to Allen. He’d spent countless hours sketching his life, the whole thing, in snapshots inside that beautiful leather sketchbook Gansey had given him. 

He started at the beginning, pictures of Aurora and his brothers, the Barns, his father playing guitar by the fire. He drew their family vacations, the cows he used to sneak out and sleep beside when he was a child, the feeling of winning the Tennis State Championship when he was 15. He drew the bad things too, his nightmares, his drug-trips, that old stained couch in the basement of Kavinsky’s house. He put every piece of himself, all 22 years of memories down in that book, woven together with song lyrics in the margins. 

So when Dr. Allen asked him to look specifically to his addiction and create, he didn’t see a problem. He needed to return to school with a series anyways, Declan had called to inform him that strings had been pulled to allow him to finish his final semester at Georgetown, but he needed to walk in with something to show at the January exhibition. Two birds, and all that.

He settled on 7 pieces, each done in oils on canvas, each accompanied by a song. 7 moments in the life of his battle with addiction, from the beginning to now. With each stroke of his brush he felt infinesmally lighter, pouring his grief into the images before him. 

It started with “The Fall.” His father’s murder in reds and greys; fracturing lines and deep shadows. He mixed his paints with tears and used his heart to drag color across the canvas. For the first time in years, Ronan allowed the memory to consume him. He’d re-lived it plenty of times in his nightmares, but this was different. His hands shook, jagged strokes of anger and confusion bleeding through. He painted the brief moment, the final moment, when his world was whole before his teenage mind finally realized what it was he was looking at. His last free breath. And he painted his screams, the cacophony of pain, endlessly mixing with sirens until his vocal chords gave out. 

He drowned the canvas in un-kept promises and hung it out to dry with childhood dreams.

Then came “Chasing the Void.” It was a story told in stark lighting. High beams on a backroad, swirling smoke and broken bottles. It was white glasses and white-powder lines on shark-nosed hood. It was going 115mph, bones rattling with the beat of the bass in his sound system. Ronan painted a black tattoo, used the blood on his knuckles to tint bloodshot eyes. His brush moved with his mother’s disappointment and his brother’s anger. Whimsical lines and Gansey’s head shaking when he found Ronan passed out yet again. He painted the highs and lows when sobriety reminded him that he hated the face that stared back at him in the mirror. 

Each new piece he added to the collection was brought to Dr. Allen’s office. Together they worked through each memory associated with the piece and slowly Ronan felt the weight on his chest lighten. 

Gansey visited every Monday and Friday like clockwork. He kept Ronan apprised to all the goings on of Monmouth and updates on Matthew and Declan. Ronan never asked for them, but he appreciated it regardless. His current obsession though seemed to be a new friend, Adam something. He had been going on for 30 minutes now about how this man single-handedly raised the Pig from the dead. Ronan tuned out most of the conversation, but nodded at what he assumed were appropriate moments while sketching.

“Ronan, are you even paying attention?” Gansey asked, irritation only slightly evident.

“Mmm?” Ronan hummed. “For sure. Pig. Smoke. Some new guy.”

“Essentially. I was saying that Noah and I are heading to his second job, the man works 2 jobs and is getting a masters can you believe it? Anyways Nino’s, so Noah can finally meet him and Blue. Have I mentioned her yet?” 

Blue? He thought. Who the fuck names their kid Blue. “Once or twice.”

“Well they both work this afternoon, so I assume we’ll just hang there until they get off. Then maybe grab a bite. I wish you could come, I’m sure you’d get along nicely with Adam.” Gansey said, choosing to ignore the previous sarcasm and barrell on. Excelsior. 

“Doubt it.” Guy sounds like a douche.

“On that note, thank you for another lovely visit. I’ll see you Monday, Ronan.” Gansey gathered his coat and made his way to the door with a final wave.

Ronan waved back with a single finger and a saccharine “Bye, Dick.” Then shoved his Airpods back into his ears and lost himself in the EMFS playlist.

*****

As Adam gathered the tub of dirty dishes from above the trash and made his way back to wash them, he was lost in thought. These last two weeks, recent events, had been so much and yet he strangely was beginning to feel some semblance of peace. He knew that Blue had wanted him to write letters to help him cope. If he was admitting to it helping, he also needed to be honest with himself in noting that it may have been hurting just as much. He was falling in love with a ghost. A figment of his imagination that he could tell his every secret too, someone who listened without judgment; Someone who never asked more of him than he could handle. It wasn’t healthy, wasn’t what Blue had intended, of that he was sure. But, if it brought him peace and allowed him to sleep without seeing cold, dead eyes, then what was the harm?

He rinsed the mugs and plates loading them efficiently into the dishwasher, and dried his hands. As he moved to toss the towel into the bin, he heard the bell chime above the cafe door. He made his way slowly to the front, knowing that Blue was currently handling the register meant that he didn’t need to rush. On his way down the hallway he stopped to straighten a missing cat flier on the community bulletin board, taking a moment to snap a picture of the cat in question so he could be on the lookout, then continued toward the front; eyes glued to his phone.

He rounded the corner towards the coffee bar to the tune of laughter, it seemed Gansey had arrived. His eyes found Blue first. For all her insistance that she loathed the man in question, she was positively glowing, head tossed back in a hearty laugh. Lost in the bubble of charm Gansey operated in. 

“-And so I asked him, mind you I’ve had a lot to drink at this point, ‘Hey senator, why do you fucking hate poor peo-‘ Oh! Adam” Ganseys story of embarrassing his mother at one of her Republican fundraisers interrupted, as he caught sight of Adam sliding behind the bar.

“Hey Gans,” He smiled. 

“My apologies, this is Noah.” Gansey stepped to the side to reveal the man in question, and Adam’s breath stopped. 

There, eyes blue and wide with shock, mouth agape stood the man from the alley. The one whose scream still haunted Adam in the dark, solitary hours of sleep. The one that began his every nightmare of that night.

He was different now, tears weren’t pouring from his eyes to dance across the plains of his smudgey face. His blonde hair free of blood was slightly tousled, and his clothes were clean, albeit a little disheveled. 

“No,” the word was a broken noise, barely a word at all, closer to a sob. Gansey and Blue looked frantically between the two for what seemed like an eternity before Noah spoke.

“It’s you…” 

“Who? Noah, you know Adam?” Gansey’s voice was quietly confused.

Adam began to shake his head slowly, increasing with speed as his breath finally returned to him; Erratic and wild. Crocodile tears blurred his vision, and he finally croaked a simple question, “What… What was his name?”

“Ronan.”

“Oh, god” Blue breathed. 

Adam ran, desperately fleeing the scene and chorus of his name called from the front. Ronan, his name was Ronan. Adam couldn’t breathe. His pain fresh, an un-mendable wound reopened now that he had a name to grieve. He paused, only long enough to grab his messenger bag from the back, and took the alley door. 

Then he ran, faster than he’d ever remembered running. Tears turning the colors of the world around him to a haunting watercolor. His breath came in painful stabs, each beat of his bleeding heart an excruciating truth.

He somehow made it back to his apartment. The moment the door closed behind him he fell against it and slid to the floor. Ronan Ronan Ronan-

“R-Ronan.” He spoke the name the first time aloud, the feeling of its weight on his tongue was an answer to a question he’d been asking for a month. For a lifetime.

Adam didn’t know how long he sat on the floor, grief taking time and twisting it in on itself. An amalgam of pain, hopelessness, and questions. Gansey, Gansey knew Ronan, knew Noah. Noah the boy he’d last seen carted away in the back of an ambulance covered in red red red. Noah, who’d screamed for help like the world was shattering. Noah, who’d clung tightly to the shredded arms of a bleeding man in a dark alley.

Help me, his mind screamed, his internal voice morphing into Noah’s from that night. 

Help me, I’m not okay…

A key twisting in the lock above his head brought his attention to the present. Adam pushed away from the door, and waited as Blue made her way into his dark apartment. Night had fallen sometime since he’d been here, on the floor, lost in the alley. Lost in a name.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Th-that was-”

“I know. Noah told us after you left. Adam, there’s… Adam. I need to tell you something.”

It was a concentrated effort to drag his gaze from the space between their bodies on the floor to meet her eyes. Lights from the street poured through the window in the living room, painting Blue’s honey warm skin in a haunting glow. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, so he waited. He watched. She brought a trembling hand to his, her brown eyes lined with silver, she squeezed.

“Adam, he’s alive.” 

A sob born of heartbreak and pain tore from his chest, he couldn’t form words. He broke then, completely and wholly. Blue came to cradle his head against her chest as he cried. Every hope he’d killed since the alley came barreling to the surface; All the pain and confusion, love and questions, beating like waves against the shores of his mind. Some minutes later he finally raised his head and met Blue’s eyes, her smile was wet and broken. He dragged his hand under his nose, across his eyes, and finally found the word to the question he needed to ask. “How?”

So Blue told him. Apparently, him finding Noah and Ronan in that alley, the tourniquet he’d made of his scarf, that extra minute he’d bought him had been enough. The doctors were able to stitch his wounds, and though it had been a close call, he’d pulled through. She explained that he’d had a hard life, though Gansey wouldn’t give details because he insisted those were Ronan’s to share when he was ready. He did however give her basic facts. Ronan Niall Lynch is an artist, a senior at Georgetown. He’s an orphan, and a brother. He’s an addict in recovery at a facility in Arlington, and Gansey’s third roommate. 

Blue explained that, when Adam was ready Gansey and Noah wanted to meet with him, to talk more. She offered to accompany him when that time came, but they all agreed they wouldn’t push him until he was ready. “Thank you,” he’d said to Blue. For getting the information. For telling him. For allowing him space. She understood that his history made this difficult, an addict for a soulmate was something he would need time to process. She eventually asked if he wanted to be alone and when he’d told her “yes” she kissed his forehead, and made her way to the door.

“Adam,” she paused, and he looked up. “We’ll wait on your text okay? Whenever you’re ready. But please check in so I know you’re safe.”

“I will.”

With a perfunctory nod she slid back out the door. 

Adam spent another minute in silence before dragging himself from the floor. He made his way in a daze to his desk and he collapsed into his chair. Slowly, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper. 

His hand shook.

He took a deep breath.

He wrote.

V

Ronan,

You’re alive…

**********************

Art Pieces and their correlating songs (linked):

“The Fall”  The War- SYML

“Chase The Void”  For What It’s Worth- Malia J

[juicy-cookie]

His beautiful Lady

A/N: I have been thinking about writing something like this ever since Negan mentioned fucking a beautiful lady’s feet in the comics. So here it is.

This isn’t my personal kink, to put it mildly, put I tried my best. Actually, it’s a whole lot of fluff with a bit of kink sprinkled in.

It also features my OC Lilly from my long fic “Through The Valley” but you don’t have to read it to understand this one. It’s pretty much porn without plot, unless you’re familiar with TTV.

Word count: 1668

Pairing: Negan X OC (Lilly)

Warnings: Language, smut, foot fetish

Heavy steps echoed through the Tower stairwell. A not-quite-charged camping lantern cast ominous shadows on the concrete walls and basked its owner and his path in a weak light. He was lucky that he knew these stairs like the back of his hand that he could navigate them in the dark, being as exhausted as he currently was.

He had spent all day at the Western Outpost, discussing the reviewed tribute schedule for the Hilltop with the men there. They would have to take care of both the Hilltop and Alexandria eventually and they had needed to talk about how they would schedule drop-offs and think about expanding the outpost in the long run.

It had been a tense discussion. Rob, the leader of the outpost, was grumpy on his good days. But having lost a bunch of men to Rick and his community already, he was more than reluctant to manage Alexandria’s tributes.

Negan had to make use of every manipulation technique he could think of, dishing out a mixture of threats and flattery and by the time they had come to an agreement, it had already been dark. Rob had offered him and Seth beds to stay the night, but there was no way Negan would stay at that shithole any longer than he needed to. He couldn’t wait to come home to his girl and close the door behind him. It was already way too late, he thought groggily as he climbed the last few steps to the Penthouse and opened the door as quietly as he could.

Lilly was still awake, of course. She always waited for him to get home, claiming that she wanted to make sure he was okay. And while that may have been one reason, Negan knew that she couldn’t sleep without him by her side anyway.

With several lit candles surrounding her, wearing shorts and a tank top, she was half-lying on one of the many sofas that used to accommodate the wives back when he still thought he needed more than one woman to satisfy his needs. A book she had probably read five times already in her hand, she smiled tiredly at him. He returned her smile and put Lucille on top of a dresser, shrugged out of his leather jacket and removed his boots, sighing in relief.

“You’re late. Did Rob give you any troubles?”

“Except for being his usual asshole self? Nah. Just lots of shit to discuss.”

“Good.” She opened her arms and he all but fell on top of the sofa and laid his head in her lap. The resulting scalp massage from her sent tingles of pleasures down his spine. He didn’t know if he had ever felt so relaxed with anyone before.

“We cleared out the storage room. Put the rice, potatoes and preserves into that empty supply room on the second floor. It means more work walking up and down, but at least it’s dry there.”

“Mhhmmh…” It wasn’t that Negan didn’t appreciate the work Lilly had done today, but after being in full leader-mode, dealing with the outpost guys all day, he had a hard time concentrating on anything put Lilly’s fingers working her magic on his scalp and temples right now. He could feel and hear her chuckling slightly.

“Poor thing. You wanna go to bed?”

He turned until his face was buried between her breast and inhaled before he planted some light kisses over her curves, up towards her neck. “Not quite yet. There’s still some life left in this old fucker.”

Lilly raised her leg and laid her foot on his crotch, rubbing over the bulge in his pants. “True,” she grinned and Negan gasped, “I’m afraid I’m really, really sore, though. And we don’t have much lube left.”

“Oh no,” Negan pouted and sat up, grabbing both her feet and putting them into his lap. He stroked up and down her naked legs. “I guess I need to be more careful not to break my toys.”

“Hey!” She protested and tried to pull her feet away from him, but he grabbed them tightly and started massaging her toes and soles. “I’m not a toy!” Her anger was short-lived, though, apparent by the blissful expression spreading over her face as Negan continued to massage her feet.

“Nah, of course you’re not. It’s actually the other way around if we’re being perfectly fucking honest.” He brought one foot up to his lips and kissed it softly, his eyes meeting hers and noticing her biting her lip. He knew how much it turned her on that she had this kind of power over him. It wasn’t just to indulge her, too. He truly enjoyed letting her take over whenever they were alone together.

She put her other foot, which he wasn’t holding, back in his lap and slowly crawled towards his already semi hard dick. Her toes ghosted over his pants, slowly dragging them up his legs until she reached his balls. She applied some pressure on them, very carefully, but it was enough to make him close his eyes and moan against the foot still pressed against his face.

She giggled, obviously happy with his reaction.

“Want me to keep going? Or would you rather I do all that with my mouth?” She asked while rubbing up and down his length.

Negan thought for a moment, as coherently as he could while already lost in his arousal. The thought of her pleasuring him with her feet was strangely exciting. He had never done anything like that before.

“Keep going,” he all but panted.

“Take off your pants!” She ordered and he was more than happy to obey.

He unbuttoned his jeans and raised his hips to slide them down, together with his boxers in one swift motion. He laid back down opposite of her, on the other side of the sofa, settling  back into the cushions comfortably, his dick twitching excitedly. He couldn’t help the huge grin on his face. He loved trying out new things with her and the fact that she was so enthusiastic about it. About him.

As if on cue, she followed him down and quickly took him into her mouth, sucking and licking, causing him to moan her name, followed by a string of of curses. He was about to tell her that he’d come soon if she kept doing this, when she released him, spit on his dick and leaned back on the other side of the sofa again.

He opened his eyes and saw her grinning up at him. She slid her left foot up his belly, chest and over his neck to his mouth and wiggled her toes against his lips. He opened them enthusiastically, taking her big toe into his mouth and started sucking immediately.

He was rewarded with her closing her eyes and moaning, a sound he’d never get enough of. Together with her other foot rubbing against his dick more vigorously now, he could already feel precum dripping out of his cock and into the trail of hair on his lower belly, as Lilly pushed his shaft down.

She removed her toe from his mouth with a slight ‘plop’ and settled her foot on his thigh. His head fell back against the arm rest as she found a steady rhythm rubbing the sole of her other foot up and down his cock. She alternated this motion with taking him between her toes, or massaging his balls and it felt heavenly. The skin on her feet was surprisingly soft for someone who ran around in combat boots all day. He was already a panting, moaning mess, when she added her other foot and pressed her soles together with him in between.

“Fuck yeah, baby, that feels so fucking good!”

He only regretted that she didn’t get anything out of this. When he opened his eyes, he saw that he had been wrong on that account. Lilly had her hand down her pants, pleasuring herself while watching him intently, her lips slightly open, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The sight was intoxicating for him and the view he got when he dropped his gaze to his lap sent a jolt of excitement straight to his dick. Her slender feet rubbing up and down his shaft, her heels pressing against his balls, her moans filling the air, he was all but ready to burst.

He grabbed both her feet with one hand and pressed them together almost painfully tight and started jerking himself off more rapidly between her soles. His eyes rolled back and he groaned loudly.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come. Shit…”

He barely registered her muttering “Me too!”, only hearing her crying out his name as the waves of his orgasm hit him, shooting his hot cum all over her feet and his stomach.

“Oh fuck… God…” His movements became slower until he couldn’t hold on to her anymore. She immediately relaxed her legs and placed them over his thighs and next to his hips.

Negan kept his eyes closed for a moment, basking in the post-orgasmic bliss in silence with her, until he remembered something. He grabbed his boxers and proceeded to clean her and himself up, before he laid back against the pillows again and grabbed her legs. Stroking his thumbs over her ankles, he looked up at Lilly, who smiled at him lazily with her eyes half closed.

“I hope you came, too, because that was way too fucking awesome to have enjoyed all on my own.”

“I did,” she laughed, “But next time it’s your job again.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

He loved that she was down to try almost every kinky shit he could think of. And he loved when she ordered him around like that. He loved that they could just lie there together, that he could be half naked around her, both literally and figuratively. He loved her.

He should probably tell her one of these days.

Tags: @217fanfic @lupienne @embracetheapocalypsewithme @i-am-negan-trash @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @jeffreydeanneganstrash @purplemuse @wandering-rosebud @ne-gans @negans-network

[shimmershae]

Provided we don't all bail ship after the finale, what needs to happen in Season 8 to wipe the last couple of seasons' bad taste out of your mouths?

I’ll go first, and I’ll put them under the cut because I like to ramble.  Remember, all of these are just my opinions and you might have different ones.  No disrespect intended if I step on some toes. 

Take the show back to its roots and make it a more character-driven show that just happens to feature some really gruesome dead people.  The first couple of seasons get a bad rap for being slow, but we learned more about these characters back then.  Part of the reason we bonded with and grew to care so much about them is because the writers actually took the time to establish them and didn’t just give us the bullet points, forcing us to rely on our own inferences to fill in the blanks. I don’t know about you, but part of the reason I was so devastated by Glenn’s death was because they took the time to show us different character traits of his.  They may have done a shit job of giving him a backstory/flashbacks like Michonne, for example, enjoyed, but we knew enough about him that we came to care about him.  Olivia’s and Spencer’s deaths, on the other hand, didn’t have quite the same impact, and it was because SIMs have actually been better drawn than them.  We barely even got to scratch the surface to see what made them tick or see them brought into the fold of Team Family. 

Make these characters more real and relatable.  Don’t limit them to interacting with just one subset of characters.  Take Richonne, for example. I've been very appreciative of supportive Richonne this season, but has anybody else noticed that any other relationships the pair might have had with anyone else have just faded away?  What about Rick’s bromance with Daryl?  What about actually showing him parenting his children?  I think N$gan has actually shared more scenes with Judith this season.  For that matter, why not show them co-parenting?  We know Michonne loves those Grimes babies.  Hell.  Show it.  And stop limiting her to meaningful scenes with and about Rick.  Let her actually talk to, I don’t know, some of the show’s other ladies because there’s nothing wrong with female friendships.  Maggie and Sasha’s friendship, what little of it we’ve been allowed to see, has been a bright spot and gave a little bit more dimension to both ladies.  Allow Michonne the same courtesy, please. 

 Speaking of female friendships, we have so many rocking strong ladies on this show with so much built-in potential.  Mine it.  Stop ignoring it in favor of allowing N$gan to suck all the oxygen out of a room with whatever number monologue he’s up to now.  They’ve all suffered losses of some sort.  They have that in common, and they’re so-called family.  Show us why they actually stick together besides a need to have a leader to follow, m'kay?  Who else would sell their soul to have a scene between Carol and Michonne where they talk about their Sophia and Andre?  I can’t be the only one.

Carol.  Don’t sideline her or separate her from the rest of her family.  You can blame it on her learning to deal with her losses and accepting the things she’s had to do to survive and protect her family, and some of it is, I grant you.  But what it really smacks of is a stalling tactic, and while Mel never fails to deliver big time, I think Gimple and Co. are really short-changing the narrative when they do this to her character.  I feel like they always have her tucked in their back pockets as their Ace in the Hole, but why not get ahead of the game?  Make it happen more naturally and for Heaven’s sake, allow her to actually interact with the “Family” she loves so much and have them show her a little love as well.  At least then, it wouldn’t be so obvious that they’re doing exactly what they’re doing, lol. 

 Just stop fucking around with Carol and Daryl and let them share scenes together.  I don’t think these two need that whole absence makes the heart grow fonder thing.  They could only be stronger together, and as Rosita so eloquently put it, “Everybody should be getting their rocks off."  So why shouldn’t these two?  Gimple has delayed that ultimate jump into intimacy for long enough.  Have them openly acknowledge their feelings to somebody, anybody, if you don’t want to commit to having them together as a couple yet, but please.  Don’t drag it out any longer.  At this point, it makes little sense why two people who are obviously each other’s most important person are not taking advantage of whatever time they have left to carve out some tiny bit of happiness.  MMB and NR can sell it, and they’ll be anything but boring because BAGGAGE.  There are loads of interesting beats to play with their stories individually.  Together, it’s practically a gold mine. 

 Dial back on everything being about Rick or Daryl’s man pain.  It’s infuriating to me that we’ve only gotten a few minutes and scenes of Maggie sitting in front of Glenn’s grave when she lost her husband.  The father of her unborn child.  As much as I love Daryl and understand his guilt, it should have taken a back seat to Maggie’s loss in the case of Glenn.  The poor woman has lost so much, so I get that it might be redundant in Gimple’s mind to focus on her pain, but damn.  The same could be said for Rick.  I know Sasha and Abraham were pretty much thrown together last season, but jeez.  Focus on her pain.  She’s lost just as much as Maggie in the same amount of time, and these two characters should have been driving more story this season than they have. 

 But they couldn’t.  Because we had to have time devoted to all of these other communities.  And I get it.  Each of our favorites were once newbies.  If it was about establishing characters, I could see it more.  But it’s felt like connect-the-dot plot points just to get them ready for the penultimate battle.  It wouldn’t have felt that way had Aaron or Daryl or Tara or Heath stumbled upon more than one of these communities sooner in their runs.  They could have been gradually introduced, and it wouldn’t have felt quite so much like they were detracting from what we really wanted to see:  Team Family.  As it stands, the Kingdom is the only community I personally am interested in finding out more about, and that’s not just because of the Carol connection (although that has a considerable influence on all things for me).  King Ezekiel and Jerry and Richard–maybe the actors are just better and more engaging.  I don’t know.  But those episodes have far outshone the Garbage People, for example.  Ugh. 

The Garbage community is still better than the Saviors, though.  At least IMO.  Because Sherry has been the only redeeming factor about the Sanctuary and Dwight.  Don’t even get me started on him.  I’ve been bored by every episode where the majority of the focus was on the Saviors this season.  I don’t like Dwight and I fucking hate N$gan, my past fondness for JDM aside.  I can’t even stand to see the man in interviews anymore.  So, less of him next year, please?  I wouldn’t complain if Shiva eats him in the finale.  He contorts himself like some sort of weird ass prey anyway. 

 Focus more on the human element and less on the plot points and cool explosions and costumes and props, pretty please?  Take advantage of the talented cast that’s already there.  Build up their relationships again so we are reminded of why they banded together in the first place. 

 Well.  I’ll hop of my soapbox now. That got super long.  Obviously, I needed to work out a few feelings, lol. 

 What are yours?