#That's not my neighbor gert

[roxanneslosteyez]

I'm not seeing the pearly gates

Original (idk who made the original, if you know please tell me so i can give credit)

[roxanneslosteyes]

I'm susprised he isn't on the tnmn wiki

(I had to steal his image from a thumbnail since there is none on Google.)

[roxielosteyes]

Okay! I made a shitpost fanfic about Gert and Yog (The first chapter is short so yeah 😭)

So uh enjoy this shitpost!

[joydoesathing]

eugh, varicose veins

random doodle while watching a campaign mode playthrough

(she cut her bangs by herself)

[double--hh]

Hi chat

[astrofinnie]

Campaign mode spoilers (??)

I slapped this together for shits and giggles :3 i love this ugly fuckass

[tnmndoppels-askblog]

TW: BLOOD, TALKS OF NIGHTMARES

Roul: "Well, that was a great mission! Other than the fact that the rest of our assigned teammates are either dead or badly injured."

Peach only hums in response, too shocked to speak. As they were walking to Peach's dorm, he noticed something. A letter on the door addressed to him.

Peach: "Huh?"

Roul: "Ooooh! You got a letter! Wait a minute...Mail day isn't today!"

Peach gulped as he took the letter of the door. Roul had left. He opened the letter and took out the note. It was from Gert:

Dear Peach,

Don't worry, you're not in trouble. Your roommate, Cyclops, had sent me a letter a week prior to address a concern of his he had with you. He told me that you've been waking up at random hours of the night gasping and that he heard what sounded like you sobbing. He was beginning to get concerned. Head to medical, they'll know what to do.

Sincerely, the spokesman of the doppelgangers and the H.M.D.A, Gertholomew Gertmore

Peach sighed before pocketing the letter. What Cyclops had said was true, ever since his first mission he had been plagued by nightmares for weeks. He headed off to the medical office.

[chase-solidago]

Invasive Species and Xenophobia

Invasive species are complicated! People have a lot of feelings about them, positive and negative. Are plants that move "invaders" "colonizing", "immigrants", "citizens"? What does it mean to kill species that are from somewhere else? What if that species legitimately makes a poor neighbor and causes extinctions in other, native species? This complex, culturally-loaded issue is a foundational issue behind a lot of plant conservation and restoration.

This is a juicy and still actively disputed topic! The Guardian recently had a big article on colonialism in Botany, (tbh her views are dated and reductive, imo) and it’s come up again this week, to much hostility (cw: reddit). Yes, my region's native plant restoration came from literal nazis, but also, the impacts of some invasive species are real, not figments of a racist imagination. How do we balance these issues? What does ethical invasive management look like?

Since it’s such a juicy topic, I wanted to offer a few fun readings to share:

The Native Plant Enthusiasm: Ecological Panacea or Xenophobia?, Gert Gröning and Joachim Wolschke-Bulmahn, 2004, Arnoldia.

THE CLASSIC 20th century German nazis and native plants paper. Made a huge splash when it came out, and you will still encounter people who paint all native plant stuff with this brush. Summary: yeah the nazis loved their native plants and used them as part of their conquering process. Also, the first prairie plantings ever, located in Chicago, were done by a racist probable-nazi for racist reasons, full stop. I’ll let him speak for himself: “The gardens that I created myself shall… be in harmony with their landscape environment and the racial characteristics of its inhabitants. They shall express the spirit of America and therefore shall be free of foreign character as far as possible… the Latin and the Oriental crept and creeps more and more over our land, coming from the South, which is settled by Latin people, and also from other centers of mixed masses of immigrants. The Germanic character of our race, of our cities and settlements was overgrown by foreign character. The Latin spirit has spoiled a lot and still spoils things every day.” - Jens Jensen

Botanical decolonization: rethinking native plants, Tomaz Mastnak, 2014, Environment and Planning D: Society and Space

Rather than viewing native plant plantings as an act of racially-pure occupation, Mastnak positions native plants in California as a decolonization of the sub/urban lawn. Uses a lot of quotations from 16th century English philosopher Francis Bacon, and is heavy on the philosophical musings.

From killing lists to healthy country: Aboriginal approaches to weed control in the Kimberley, Western Australia by Bach et al., 2019, Journal of Environmental Management.

This paper talks through some of the native vs invasive debate, and offers a different perspective on how to approach to plant invasive management based on cultural relations, rather than country of origin or behavior.

Beyond ‘Native V. Alien’: Critiques of the Native/alien Paradigm in the Anthropocene, and Their Implications, Charles R. Warren, 2021, Ethics, Policy, & Environment

DENSE but thorough, if you want to follow the entire history of the native/invasive debate, this has you covered. The most interesting stuff, in my opinion, is the discussion of invasive denialism, IE: the impasse of “You’re just being racist!” Vs “You know nothing about ecology!” I recommend the Discussion, which starts on page 13.

[hellpuppetswithfleshymembers]

All poking fun at captain dipshit and his dumb song aside, this is a good read that takes a real look at what’s been happening for a long time in our nation’s real small towns.

I didn’t know why people kept mentioning “small towns,” but assumed it was a pop culture reference I was missing.

So, I googled it.

Jason Aldean, a country singer I've never heard of and will probably never think about again after people stop talking about him, recently released a song called, "Try That in a Small Town."

The song, if you've not heard it, threatens violence on people who do various things like car jacking, stomping on a flag, “cussing out” a cop, or robbing a liquor store at gun point.

A friend of mine pointed out that Aldean is from Macon, Georgia, with a population of over 150,000.

That’s… not a small town.

I’m from Logan, WV. Population is 1,400.

I came from Chauncey, WV, a coal camp in Logan. Population is 283. I am actually from “Chauncey Holler” (Hollow). Population is probably fewer than 100 people.

I’m from an actual small town.

I’m descended from the Hatfield/Vance clan of Hatfield and McCoy repute. I’m cut from the Shawnee resistance to the Indian Removal Act. My ancestors were freedmen. My ancestors mined the coal that kept the pacified middle class warm and cozy in their domesticated complacency.

And yes, if you come to an actual small town as an outsider and do things that seem threatening to insiders, they’ll handle it internally.

That much is true.

What Jason Aldean is talking about isn’t anything like what people from actual small towns would say. In fact, you won’t hear from them at all because it is not in the ethos of people from insular, isolated communities to try and posture with the outside world.

They don’t think people are actually going to come there and try to burn their crumbling infrastructure and rob their single-wide trailers and their dead grandma’s house they squat with duct tape and cut up trash bags for windows.

No city person is traveling to the middle of nowhere to steal your Aunt Gert’s Buick Skylark, Jason.

They don’t carry enough jugs of oil and coolant to pull over every few miles and top it off because they have not been waiting on that black lung settlement for over a decade to get their car fixed.

Noey (Noah) Mullens, the town mechanic, passes everyone’s car inspection because no one cares about regulations. The police would not ticket Aunt Gert, either, because when most everyone is that Poor, the police know better.

The police don’t “cross that line.”

No one is afraid of getting caught or being reported because no one is looking.

No one cares. No city folk care. No suburban country music singers care.

They’re invisible.

Police do not have much of a role in small towns. People do handle things on their own. No one is spitting in a cop’s face in a small town because Officer Joe Sias and his brother Don aren’t patrolling.

They probably never fired their weapons on the job at anything other than a rabid raccoon or coyote, and they’re considerably less armed than the average citizen. No one calls the police to report crimes.

But in a small town, you are very likely to be robbed by your neighbor’s adult kid with a meth or oxycontin addiction. They’ll steal your grandparents’ cancer and hospice meds and your tube TV.

And no one riots in a small town because they can’t afford to reach the power structures that left them so poor.

At nights, people steal the flood grates around small towns for scrap metal. They loot abandoned houses and businesses for copper wire and metal pipes to scrap. No one is ever going to revitalize those structures, so people just look the other way. By day they pick up beer and soda cans on the side of the road— for scrap.

Anything to avoid the mines.

Aldean’s video shows b-roll of protests, property destruction, violence, and generally unrelated incidents in big cities.

Nobody in those videos cares about what’s happening in somebody’s small town. This is the suburbanite white dude fantasy version of Scarface. It’s the product of having no sense of personal identity and appropriating some ill-imagined mixture of actual generational Poverty culture (which is not a white phenomenon) and a wholly American mythos of having a closed culture that worships assimilation.

They often don’t think they’re racist because they often do genuinely like their Black and Brown neighbors who fish and hunt with them and go to their churches and whose kids are on their kids’ little league team.

They have a vision of living in community that they can’t bring to reality because things have changed since the boomer generation's good hand. They have dreams of being financially successful if they just work hard enough, but those dreams are not coming to fruition because they’re an American myth.

They’re trying to hold on to a sense of grandiosity characterized by surviving struggles they never experienced and by having values they don’t understand or have no connection to.

They are angry at anyone defying the order because they cope with the loss of hope for a mythical future by trying to blame people being crushed by the systems that are also eroding the white working class (at a slower rate).

The rate has been so slow, they don’t realize their sentimentality about how great this nation is came from lies they were told and an identity that is as empty and illusory as the history they learned in school.

It’s the equivalent of trying to be the proverbial “golden child” to an abusive parent, maintaining the illusion that the truth-telling “scapegoat” is actually the problem.

That’s the “great again” that people like that bank on. The proverbial “New Jerusalem.”

Is the song racist?

That’s the wrong question, because it’s oversimplified.

Is the song a mediocre by-product of a mass delusion that white settlers have agreed to maintain because they too had their identities stolen by colonialism, so that they are also defined by Uncle Sam’s toxic legacy as the golden child who is too cowardly to ask questions, hear the truth, accept accountability, or fight back?

Yes.

This peacock of a song is a blatant and pitiable attempt at being unable to accept that they only get a pass from Uncle Sam when they assimilate into a fictional character that upholds the colonial ego of Big Daddy Nationalism and Mama Manifest Destiny.

Unpacking that everything you’ve ever been told is a lie is hard work, and they’re not cut out for that because they’re not actually workers.

They aren’t the cheap labor they benefit from. Their “small town” fantasy is as sincere as their “honest worker” fantasy.

They need to consult their ancestors, and not just the ones who got free [stolen] land.

My “small town” ancestors shot the sheriffs and the deputies, they burned whole towns to the ground, and they led the most violent uprisings in the history of Uncle Sam’s invasion because they did not see the people upholding the status quo as “their own.”

Jason Aldean has no idea who “his people” are. They’re not “small town” people. They’re the middle mass, the embodied entitlement that one inherits when they come from a legacy of settler colonialism, slave trading, and evangelical purity culture that justified genocide.

They’ve been convincing themselves they’re fighting for something noble for so long, they see the loss of that illusion as a threat to the only identity colonialism left them with— generic whiteness.

What he can’t handle is that he’s not a “good ol’ boy,” he’s just a bully doing the business of an abusive parent to preserve the illusion of the “pillar of community.”

If he knew how to be in community, he would not be building a cult following on nationalistic propaganda.

[saetoshis]

EMMIE PUTTING ME TO REST W THIS FIC RN ONGHAJFHA😋😋😋😋😋

SWALLOW ME WHOLE — BLUE LOCK

feat : nagi seishiro, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, kunigami rensuke + barou shoei

♱ warnings — m!receiving oral, blowjobs, deepthroating, all characters written 18+, praise, teasing, exhibitionism [nagi is on call w his friends] + slight mention in barous. / note. i had 2 do 6 but phew never again .. i just couldn’t choose 4 these <3

・✶ ｡ﾟ NAGI SEISHIRO

“why do y’wanna do this so bad anyway? isn’t it a pain.” nagi grunts as you blink up at him from between his legs, deliberately smoothing your palms up the broad muscle of his thighs just so you can feel the muscles twitch underneath your touch as his cock jumps. “not if it’ll make you feel good, don’t you want to?” as if he would ever say no to you, especially when you’re already palming at his cock. “y-yeah i guess. so i just gotta keep playing?” he’s already panting when he helps you pull down his sweats, shuddering when you send him a seductive little look followed by a long, rough stroke of your palm along his cock when you wrap your hands around the base — leaving a soft kiss against the precum gathered at the tip as he puts on his headset so he can hear isagi and the others. “just don’t make a sound or people will know.” “that’s fine, ‘ll be focusing on winnin’ anyway.”

or that was nagi’s plan anyway, until he actually had your mouth wrapped around him and now he can’t focus on anything else but that. “f-fuck.. uh, took damage. almost died.” there’s an unsteady waver to his usual tone when he feels you swirl your tongue along the sensitive folds of his cock, trailing it along the slit on his blunt head until his hips twitch and his head rolls back, his hold on the controller trembling as he tries so hard to keep his eyes from fluttering closed. but his reactions were so intoxicating, only spurring you on when he casts a few glances at you — needy and already so flustered when he notices you’re already looking back. “mmm, no fair.”

you let your jaw relax before you push nagi’s heavy cock down the tight tunnel of your throat, feeling his thighs twitch at the warmth that consumes him before another low, ragged whimper falls from his lips and you’re pretty sure he’s getting grilled off his team right now for how much he sucks when you hear him mutter out an “ah.. i died.” before his controller is forgotten and his hands are smoothing along the dip of your shoulders instead. he huffs, lips jutting out and you hum before he’s guiding you along the length of him, fucking into your mouth slowly as he pushes back against his chair with a low, long whine — a sound that’s much prettier and breathier than the few before as you feel his cock twitch on your tongue. “fu-uck—huh? don’t worry ‘bout reviving me right now, ‘ts fine.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ ITOSHI SAE

sae’s sharp gaze cuts down into you as you let yourself kiss along the sensitive sides of his cock, and despite the way he’s got his cheek propped up against his fist — looking down at you with a carefully neutral expression, you can still feel the way he’s throbbing at every single touch. you feel one of his palms rest against your cheek before he’s tapping at the skin, and he breathes out a sigh when you know what he wants immediately — letting your lips close around the tip of his cock before you’re letting him bob your head closely. “you’re listening well, sweetheart. do you want my cum that bad? ‘s that it?”

he feels your throat open up for the push of his cock and the doe-eyed little look you send him before your eyes flutter closed basically beg to let you taste him. sae pushes you down harder until your lips stretch around the base of his cock and your nose presses tight against his groomed pelvis, pretty abdomen tightening at the way your throat gag and chokes around him — coaxing and breaking his resolve. you tap on his thigh when you feel your vision become dizzy, and because it’s you — he lets you pull back, letting your spit catch along his silky skin of bud shaft with the wet withdrawal.

“hm, you can do better.” sae drawls when you blink up at him, feeling him graze his thumb across the stray tears that fall along your cheek as you suckle at the head, swiping away the precum gathered there before you hollow your cheeks and suck, followed by the press a few wet kisses along the sides of his cock. but you can tell he’s cracking with the flush on his cheeks and the twitch of his abdomen, his lips parting to allow him to pant every so softly. “tch, you’re such a greedy thing.. pretty like this.” before he’s guiding you back down his cock. “again.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ SHIDOU RYUSEI

“that’s the stuff, baby—shit!” shidou grunts as you let your tongue roll through the sensitive slit of his cock, cleaning up the pre-cum that’s gathered there as you pump your spit along the length of him with slow, languid strokes. you watch him suck his lower lip between his teeth as the corners of his lips curl into a smirk and his hand curls around the back of your neck, urging you to wrap your lips around him before he’s guiding you down — breathing out a laugh as he eases his hips into your mouth.

he could watch you do this all fucking day, watch the tears that gather along your pretty lashes when he thrusts just a little too deep so he can feel the way you choke on his cock. you let your cheeks hollow as you suckle and hum around shidou before he’s pulling you even deeper until you’re reduced to punched out gasps. “y’re gonna have me fallin’ in love~” he sings before he breathes out a laugh that breaks off into something needier when his thighs quake on the next thrust, the pleasure he feels twist in his abdomen only urging him to build a pace.

he’s like a wild animal with the way he’s fucking into your mouth, eyes fluttering closed as a hormone-drunken mantra of groans and moans fall from his parted lips. you feel shidou’s hands twitch tighter into the skin of your neck before the other rests against the back of your neck, keeping you in place to take the quick roll of his hips as he loses himself in the way your throat twitches and pulls him even deeper, basically begging him to paint it white. “i’m g’nna cum, shit.. ya suck my dick so good, babygirl. feel it in my fuckin’ dreams.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ BACHIRA MEGURU

“come on, baby.. quit teasin’ me, jus’ suck on it a lil.” bachira whines from wheres he’s lying back on your bed, arms stretched behind him as he props up his head and watches the way you tap the head of his cock on your tongue. the way you’re twisting your wrist around his shaft makes him feel like he might pass out considering how long you’ve been teasing him, only closing your lips around the head to suckle lightly for a few seconds — but he fucking loves it like this. “make me feel so good.. mhm, look so pretty suckin’ on my cock, lemme see.”

you squeeze at bachira’s shaft lightly before you’re finally taking him into your mouth again, bobbing down a few inches before you’re hollowing your cheeks and drawing back with a lewd, wet pop that has him grinning down at you. “see, you can do it — take all of it, m’kay?” his palm rests against the back of your head as you relax your jaw, blinking up at him so prettily as your lips part and spread around him and you let yourself sink down on his cock — the walls of your throat squeezing around him as he arches ever so slightly against the sheets, hips twitching to push more of his cock into the tight hug of your mouth. “fuck, baby.. gonna give you so much cum, you want it don’t you, mhm?”

bachira’s so fucking wound up by the time you finally let your nose press against his pelvis, you can feel him throb and thicken on your tongue when you drag your head up, his abdomen flexing before his thighs quake on a thrust and he moans, choked off and needy when you swallow around him again. but you don’t allow him any relief when you immediately pop back down, making him moan so loud and shamelessly when you basically drag his orgasm out of him and you taste the sudden rush of his cum along your tongue. you pull back slightly to allow yourself a proper taste as bachira shallow fucks his cock into your mouth, twitching and whining with how fucking good you feel around him. “t-take it all, baby.. don’ waste it — can go again.. can give you more mkay?”

・✶ ｡ﾟ KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

“that’s right, baby.. fuckin’ take it—shit..” kunigami grunts from where he’s pressing himself against the kitchen counter, fucking hypnotised by the sight of you on your knees with your lips wrapped around his heavy cock. his blunt nails dig into your scalp when something carnal boils in his stomach, your own nails leaving pretty crescent moon marks along his now exposed thighs and abdomen as you swirl your tongue along his tip to lick away the precum, taking a deep breath and relaxing your jaw to take his cock once more.

it was his fault for walking around shirtless after his post-workout shower — sweats hanging dangerously slow on his hips as he leaned against the kitchen counter, it was unfair how hot he looked. you feel kunigami brace himself before he moves to rest his back against the marble behind him, feeling the hand on the back of your head flex before he’s forcing more of his cock into your warm mouth, his heavy balls pressing tight against your chin before you gag, spluttering before he pulls back again with a low groan and a gargled curse under his breath. “that all you got? shit, can do better, i know you can — you want my cum? gotta take it for yourself.”

kunigami’s teasing you, you can tell by the blown look he gives you but it’s charming considering the way his tone shakes with want, his thighs trembling either side of you along with the needy twitch in hips that makes him sink more of his cock down the tight tunnel of your throat, working his hips back and forth until he’s hissing when your nose presses against his pelvis and you swallow around him. “fuck! keep those fuckin’ eyes on me when y’re suckin’ my cock.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ BAROU SHOEI

“tryna make me cum already, princess? shit..” you loved the way barou looked when he was so fucked out on you, his usual signature hair laying flat to curl against his cheekbones as he sends you a half lidded look. he was the perfect picture of power and ease, allowing yourself to gaze up at him with wide eyes until you eventually let your eyes flutter closed—relishing in the pleasured sting his thick cock gives you when it pushes through to choke you as he growls, low and long.

barou was still coming down from the adrenaline of his game, his goals.. although still a little pissed and tense, he couldn’t help but take you up on your offer to help him wind down — especially not when you offered the idea up to him as you sunk down to your knees. you feel his fingers tighten in the dip of your shoulder as you pull back, and he gives you two deep breaths before he’s pulling you forward again, toes curling when he feels you hollow your cheeks to bob your head along the length of him. “i’ll score 100 fuckin’ goals if this is what it gets me.. fuck you in the damn stands so everyone knows y’re mine.” barou groans, listening to the small, punched out gasps that escape your tight throat every time his hips sink forward. he braces himself with each thrust, keeping a heavy, steady rhythm before his long fingers are curling along the underside of your throat, to feel the way his cock is bulging through the skin.

the light swirl in your head is fuzzy and warm, feeling your toes curl with a sharp wave of pure desire from where you’re kneeled at his feet when he’s pressing you closer—his heavy balls pinned against your chin as messy, wet spit trails down your skin with each swirl of his hips. “you want my cum, babygirl? gonna clean me up real good?” a breathless edge follows barou’s voice when he cuts himself off with a deep growl, watching your eyes flutter and you moan before you’re nodding against his hip, lips stretched deliciously around the base. “don’t make a mess, better take it all.. fuck—jus’ cleaned the sheets.”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[roxanneslosteyez]

I'm so sorry for Mouthwashing and That's not my fandom fandom for this creation

(Please note, this is for shits and giggles. Not a serious ship!)

Original:

[buckyscrystalqueen]

The Resistant Omega: Part 2

Pairings: Omega!Mickey Milkovich x Male Alpha!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Smut.

Word Count: 4,595

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do we got?” You asked as you walked up to the back of the stolen, unmarked, pharmacy transport truck that was parked in a blacked out deserted warehouse. Your right hand, Jax, pursed his bottom lip and nodded at the haul.

“We got a big ticket.” He said as you pulled on a pair of leather gloves and stepped into the back. “Oxy, fentanyl, liquid morphine, adderall, albuterol, suppressants, stabilizers, cancer, HIV, Hep C, diabetes… you name it, we got it all.” You nodded your head slowly, and lifted a box of suppressants off the top of a stack to glance at the label.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Straight from the plant. Manifest says it was headed south.”

“Yea, it headed fucking south alright.” You grumbled as you tucked the suppressants under your arm for Mickey, took the manifest list off the clipboard Jax was holding out to you, and grabbed a couple different boxes of meds to help your neighbor with her leukemia. “Alright, get it out by sundown, and burn it down. I wanna see the fucking inferno in Detroit.” You made sure to pick up a box of fentanyl patches, and a box of oxycodone for your neighbor as well before jumping out of the truck to get as far away from the shipment as possible. “And someone find me the fucking Milkovich boys! Got a Gertie job for those fucking psychopaths.” You shouted over your shoulder as you headed out of the building. The meds went into a secured box in the floorboard under your seat, and you threw your gloves in the glove box before heading home to drop off Gertrude’s meds.

Machine Gun Kelly blared through the speakers of your pick up and you casually smoked a cigarette as if you weren’t sitting on thousands of dollars of stolen medications. You took the long way home, wanting to just enjoy the air conditioner in your truck, as your thoughts drifted to the crazy Omega that showed up at your door. You had dealt with Terry enough times at the Alibi to know he was the reason behind Mickey’s self hatred. That and the rest of the crazy Milkovich family. Typically, you’d just wash your hands of it, but you knew that there would be no way you could. Not now, not that you got a taste of your Omega… who was actually sitting on your front steps when you pulled in to the grass parking lot beside your house.

“You’re back.” You called out as you got out of the truck and opened your lock box.

“Fuck you.” You huffed as you grabbed Gertie’s meds, and left Mickey’s where they were.

“You know, I’m starting to wonder if you know any other fucking insults, ‘mega…”

“Don’t!” He snapped as you started heading next door. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Oh, I’ll fucking call you anything I Goddamn please.” You chuckled as you hopped the fence. “Stay there. I got a fucking job for you.” You heard his scoff as you knocked on the door and let yourself in to your neighbor’s. “Gertie? It’s (Y/N)!”

“Back here.” She croaked as loudly as she could from the old dining room that you refashioned into her bedroom almost a year ago. You smiled broadly at the sweet Omega, that was the closet thing you had left to family, in her bed and showed her the boxes in your hand.

“Hi gorgeous. How’s my main girl?”

“Oh, stop.” She giggled as you bent down to kiss her forehead. “You could do so much better than me, young man.”

“Who said I want better than you, huh?” She blushed as you sat down on her bed and started opening up the med boxes. “I got you more pain patches. And I grabbed all your meds…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She cooed as she gently touched your arm in thanks. “You are too good for me.”

“Here, take these.” You said as you poured out her meds from the med box on her bedside table. “So I can refill them.”

“My daughter is coming later…”

“Yea, well I’m here now, sweetheart.” She rolled her eyes at you, making you smirk, as she took her pills. “There’s a girl. Now, you just sit back and relax for me, OK?”

“You are just a pain.”

“I know.” You laughed as you put a new pain patch on her left shoulder, took off the old one, and checked her water cooler to see how full it was. You grabbed the three empty jugs, and headed out the front door where Mickey had been joined by his brother. “Hey! I need these filled within an hour. At the fucking grocery store, not outta some Goddamn hose, and I want a fucking receipt.”

“What, you think I look like some Goddamn errand boy?” Mickey shouted back.

“Yea, you fucking look like my Goddamn errand boy, bitch! Now get your fucking ass over here and do what I fucking asked before I beat your fucking ass and still make you fucking do it!” You knew only he could hear the slight hint of Alpha in your tone, but you were at least respectful enough not to out his status in front of his idiot brothers. You pulled out a twenty from your wallet and held it out to him as his brothers came over and grabbed the empty jugs off the porch. “Make it fucking quick.” You could hear Mickey grind his teeth together as he snatched the money from you, but you simply walked back inside to finish what you needed. 

“They just get more disrespectful, don’t they?” She asked as you sat down at the small card table in the corner of the room.

“Who, the street thugs?”

“Omegas.” You cocked your eyebrow at her and glanced up as she simply shook her head. “I know that tone. Any Omega knows that tone.”

“Yea, well he’s a stubborn fucker, that’s for sure.” She nodded her head and muted her TV to chat a while while you worked.

“You kids these days have it so hard.” She started with a sad shake of her head. “In my day, it was much easier. There was no suppressing who you were, no hiding from your mate. If you matched, you matched for life. Man, woman- it didn’t matter. But today that’s all that seems to matter.”

“Especially in the South side.” You pointed out as you filled row after row of pill boxes one pill bottle at a time.

“You have an old soul though, (Y/N). I’ve seen some of the Betas and the Omegas that walk through your door. You get it.”

“Yea, well I’m one of a fucking kind.” She huffed and nodded as you smiled up at her while moving on to the next bottle. 

“That you are, my dear. That you are. So tell me about this one?”

“Not much to tell just yet.” You sighed. “He’s got a laundry list of issues and thankfully for him, I got a lot of fucking patience. Suppressants or not, Omegas can only hold out so long when they meet their mate.”

“Waiting makes the heart grow fonder.” She said as she scooted down in bed and carefully rolled onto her side as the fentanyl started to kick in. “Be gentle with him, Alpha. He’s just scared.”

“I know, Gert. I’ve got time.” She nodded her head and closed her eyes to take a nap as you finished up with her meds. The half full bottles went into a fireproof safe in the basement and the pill boxes were put back into place on her bedside table so she could reach them. You washed her dishes, emptied her bedside commode, and tossed a load of laundry in the wash for her daughter just as Mickey came back with the water jugs. “I’m not done with you, but your brothers can go.” You said as you grabbed two of the jugs and gestured him in with your head. “All the way to the back. Keep quiet, she’s sleeping.” Mickey looked up at you, confused as you headed through the living room toward the kitchen.

“Just go.” He said to his brothers as he picked up the third jug and followed you. He stumbled the slightest bit when he saw the elderly woman in the bed, and you glanced over at him.

“Her name’s Gertie. She’s got cancer. I take care of her during the day and her daughter takes care of her at night.” You grabbed the last jug from him and set it with the rest before pulling up her blankets and turning off the TV. “I want you off those shitty street suppressants. You wanna stay on them, you get your shit from me.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are?” He snapped as you put Gertie’s cell phone, and her water cup on the rolling bedside table in front of her. 

“You really want me to answer that fucking question again?” You growled as you stood up and pushed him toward the door. “I’m obviously the only person in the fucking world that you can’t fucking hide from, and the only fucking person you secretly don’t wanna fucking hide from.” He surprisingly stayed silent as you closed Gertie’s front door and locked the metal screen door so no one could break in and steal from her. You headed back over to your truck and grabbed his suppressants before heading up your steps and into your house with him on your heels.

“Look, I fucking get fighting who you are. I see that shit day in and day out on the fucking streets. But you, fortunately or unfortunately have me as an Alpha. So, you’re off those shit suppressants and you take these instead.” You handed him a single months worth and set the rest of the box down on your couch. “You come to me once a month and stock up so I can make sure you’re OK. And other than that, you wanna keep fucking Angie or whatever other beta skanks you stumble upon to try to fight your gay off…”

“I’m not fucking gay.”

“You go right on ahead believing that shit, ‘mega.” You said with a shake of your head as you sat down on your couch and grabbed your cigarettes from your pocket. “But you won’t be buying that shit from the streets anymore. You’ll be cut off by sundown. So you will either need to check in, or admit you’re an Omega and go to a doctor. I got time for you to figure it out; it doesn’t affect me for shit. I got a whole fucking line up of Omegas that would die to be on my fucking dick.”

“Don’t…” He started but quickly shut up when his brain caught up to what he was going to say.

“Don’t what?” You asked as you rested your elbows on your knees. “Don’t call you an Omega? Don’t talk about fucking other Omegas? Or don’t fuck other people at all while you sit and hang me on a fucking hook?”

“I don’t need this shit!” He shouted as he flung the box toward you. “I’m doing just fucking fine…”

“You walk out that fucking door and you are signing your fucking death warrant.” He roared and punched the wall, leaving a giant hole in the plywood and plaster that you would have to make someone patch up later.

“Fuck you!” You nodded your head and picked up the box off the floor.

“See you next month, Omega.” He stormed over and grabbed the box out of your hand before stomping out of your home like a petulant child. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your cell phone to find someone to fix your fucking wall and to find someone else to take your frustration out on.

——

“Lemme ask you somethin. What would you have done if Tara’d giving you the run around when you first met her?” Jax looked over at you as you did bicep curls on and with stolen gym equipment in the shed in your back yard.

“The fuck kinda question is that?”

“The fucking kind that not only doesn’t leave this fucking shed but that I want a fucking answer for. You got a fucking problem with that?” You dropped the dumbbell in your hand on the padded floor and looked over at him with your eyebrow raised, daring him to challenge you on the matter.

“Honestly?” He sighed as he sat down on the bench press bench with a shrug. “Not a fucking clue. Why, what’s up?”

“Stumbled upon my fucking Omega by chance.” You started as you picked up your 30 pound weight with your other hand. “But fucker’s so far in the Goddamn closet, I don’t know how he can see the fucking light five inches in front of his fucking face.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Wouldn’t fucking tell you one way or another.” You said with a shake of your head. “But I know, he knows whose fucking bed he belongs in. He just wants to fucking fight for the sake of being fucking defiant.”

“So put your fucking foot down.” Jax said as he racked the bench press bar, and sat up to look at you.

“What, and be that fucking Alpha? Fuck that. I may be a fucking tool, but I’ve got some fucking semblance of respect for the fairer class.”

“Look, I honestly don’t know what to fucking tell you here.” He said with a shake of his head. “My Omega bowed down the second she found me. I don’t know any other Omega’s that haven’t done the same thing. ’s’far as I know, you’re the first one with a stubborn Omega.”

“Seems par to fucking course.” You said as you put the dumbbell back on the rack and got up to do some pull ups. “I wouldn’t be slinging fucking meds if shit went fucking easy in my Goddamn life.”

“Oh, come on, man.” Jax laughed as you grabbed a 45 pound plate and a weight belt on your way out of the shed. “You know you’d be bored as fuck had you actually done something fucking productive with your life.”

“Yea, probably.” You finished strapping the weight to your waist and glanced out toward the street to see Mickey heading away from your porch. You whistled loudly, and waited for him to turn around before shaking your head to call him toward you and jumping up to grab the bar above your head. “You need to head out.”

“Huh?”

“Out. Now.” Jax looked over at you and shook his head as he got up and put his weight down on the rack.

“I’ll pick up the collection.” He sighed on the way out the back where he parked his truck in the alley. You nodded your head and kept counting your reps, watching Mickey like a hawk as he peeked into your shed and dipped inside. Once in the safety of the box, he physically relaxed, sat down, and watched you finish.

“It been a month already?” You asked as you held yourself up in place for a few seconds.

“Needed a place to go.” With a sigh, you lowered yourself to dangle and dropped to the ground.

“Cops?” He shook his head and ran his hand across his short, brown hair. You used the weight plate to lift his chin and waited for him to give you a real answer.

“Ok, I just wanted to fucking see you.” You nodded your head and tossed the plate in the air to shift your grip on it so you could put it away.

“Angie quit putting out?”

“I… I wouldn’t know.”

“Acceptance?” You smirked when he stayed silent and grabbed your nearly empty water jug off the floor. “Lets go then, ‘mega. I need a fucking shower before we head over to Gertie’s.”

“We?” He said as he got up and followed you out of the shed.

“We.” You repeated. “You may be a fucking thug, but you’re with me and you will respect the fucking elders of this fucking community. That’s my fucking job, and as my fucking Omega, you will follow that path. Respect the elders, keep dicks in line, and beat the shit outta anyone that you fucking want to. I don’t give a fuck all otherwise.”

“You act like we’re fuckin’ together or some shit.”

“I’m gunna let that one slide.” You stopped in front of your washer and stripped out of your sweaty gym clothes. You could hear Mickey’s jaw drop behind you, which made you smirk as you turned around to look at him. “Come here.” He dragged his eyes up your body and took a hesitant step forward but two hesitant steps back. “Mickey. Come here.” With a heavy sigh, he closed the distance and stopped right in front of you. “Close your eyes.”

“The fuck am I gunna…”

“Close your eyes!” You barked. When he did, you reached out and grabbed his hand. “Stop thinking so fucking much.” You placed his hand on your chest and slid it down slowly, watching his face for every subtle reaction he was going to give. He stiffened even harder when his fingertips touched his cock, but you pushed him a little farther to wrap his fingers around your length. “Treat it like it’s your own.” You said as you reached up with your free hand and cupped the back of his head. You let out a tiny grunt and curled your hand on the back of his neck, which apparently was just what he needed.

“Like that?” He asked as he started to stroke a little harder.

“Just like that, baby boy. Just like that.” You nodded your head and tilted your head to kiss his neck but he actually turned toward you and captured your lips with his. He pushed you back against your washer and got a little more dominant, which you were more than happy to let happen until he really found his footing. You gave him the lead, letting him silently tell you how far and how fast he was willing to go, which apparently was a lot farther than you expected.

“Alpha… Fuck me.” You wasted zero time spinning him around and pinning him to the washer. He scrambled to get his jeans undone as you yanked off his shirts and tossed them on the floor. When he got his pants around his ankles, his arousal dripped down his legs, and you moaned at the sight.

“Fuck, Mickey. Goddamn you are one handsome son of a bitch.” You bent down long enough to bite his ass before bending him over and sliding the head of your cock in his tight hole. He swore loudly and you shushed him gently with a nod of your head. “Easy… breathe, Mick.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to fucking breathe… FUCK!”

“Yea, that’s how your supposed to fucking breathe.” You huffed with a smile as you pulled your hips back and slowly pushed them forward again. You stretched him out inch by inch, loving every little noise he made. You cut him a break at half way and instead picked up the pace.

“More.” He growled as he clawed at the lid of the washer.

“I’ll fucking ruin you.” You promised as you reached forward and laced your hand with his.

“Do it.” He said as he turned to the side to look at you. “Do it.”

“Fuckin’ shit… you are killin’ me.” He moaned and pushed his hips back toward you, and you could feel the desperation seeping from his soul.

“Alpha…”

“Goddamn it.” You let go of his hand, grabbed his hips, and pushed your cock all the way in. He screamed and came on the spot, as his ass spasmed and tried to adjust to the stretch. His legs started to twitch as he laid his upper body down on the cool washer and nodded.

“(Y/N), please.”

“Hang on, Omega.” His eyes rolled back into his head as you picked up the punishing pace you wanted; the animalistic Alpha slipping all the way in to the forefront of your mind and taking what it wanted from the Omega beneath you. He reached back and grabbed your wrist, tightly, and it took you a moment of looking into the blue eyes staring back at you after the second time he came for you to realize that this moment was the closest Mickey Milkovich had ever gotten to another human being. “Fuck… alright, hold on.”

“No… no, please.” He whined as you pulled out of him, which you instantly regretted doing.

“Patience, baby boy. We’re just going upstairs.” He nodded his head and let you turn him around to head into the living room. You smacked his ass as he headed up the stairs and smiled at his scowl as he looked over his shoulder.

“Fuck you.”

“That a promise?” Your smile grew at the sight of his, and you playfully pushed him down on your bed. “Get that ass up.” 

“You want this ass up?” He teased as he spread his legs out across the bed so that he was flat. “That what you want?”

“You’re pushing buttons, Omega.” You warned as you stroked your length slowly. “Better get that ass up.”

“Or what? Big bad Alpha gunna show me what he’s made of?” You reached out and spanked him as hard as you could, which sent a shiver up his spine, and made slick pour from his ass, and his dick throb on the bed.

“Present, Omega.” You demanded as you kneeled down behind him. He groaned and complied  instantly, adding in a small wiggle of his hips as he gripped your metal headboard tightly. “Oh, you are a fucking smart ass, baby.” You smirked and bent over him to nip at his ear lobe. “I’m gunna have to fuck that sass right out of you, aren’t I?”

“Fuckin’ try it.” Your smirk grew as you sat up and pushed his ass down to where you wanted it.

“Oh, I fucking will.” His back arched toward the bed and he moaned, gutturally as you slid yourself back until you bottomed out. You picked up the same punishing pace, pulling every single little noise that you could out of your Omega as you pulled him higher, and higher toward oblivion. Sweat dripped down your chest as you tried your damnedest to make sure Mickey’s first knot would be magical but fuck if he was making it hard. His body was damn near close to perfect and his whimpers went straight to your cock, making your knot swell more and more with every pump. You wanted to hold out longer, you really did, but fuck if he didn’t have the tightest ass you had ever had.

“You want my fuckin’ knot, baby?” You growled as you gripped his hips tighter. “Wanna take your first knot? Feel it split this fucking perfect ass open?” 

“Please…” He nodded frantically and started to beg, incoherently. He found your eyes again and his face contorted with his next orgasm, and you forced your knot in to feel him come around you. Mickey tensed and almost instantly went limp and you sighed and shook your head.

“Oh, baby boy. What the fuck am I gunna do with you?” As carefully as you could, you laid the two of you down on your side and wrapped your arms around his chest. You softly started calling his name as you leaned back and grabbed your cigarettes and the small fan you had on your bedside table. “Hey, Mick, come back to me.”

“The fuck?”

“Hey, there he is.” You kissed the back of his head and lit a cigarette for the pair of you to split. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Fuck happened?”

“You passed out. From the pain, or the orgasms, I’m not quite sure.”

“Holy shit.” You nodded your head and held the cigarette in front of his face. He gripped your hand with his shaking hand and brought the butt down to his lips. You kissed his shoulder and very gently brushed your fingertips across his stomach as he exhaled and let his hand fall back onto the bed. You took a long drag of the smoke and leaned behind you to grab an ashtray as Mickey reached down and held your arm to his chest. “Did you always know you were gay?”

“I did not.” You told him as you set the ashtray down in front of him and ashed the cigarette in your hand before holding it up for him again. “I didn’t realize it until I presented. And at that point, I was just a horny fucking teenager with a huge cock and endless opportunities on where I could put it.”

“You’re the first Alpha I’ve been with.” You nodded your head and kissed his shoulder, reassuringly.

“I know. And I know that that terrifies you. I know that you are fighting an entire lifetime of homophobia from your piece of shit pop, who tried to beat my ass for being gay not to long ago in the can. I know that you can’t accept what you are just yet outside the walls of this house and that’s OK. I’m not asking you to move fucking mountains, Mickey. You wanna come here and be who you truly are for a couple hours a day, please. Feel free. My house is your house as far as I’m concerned. But there is an end game here. You are my Omega and one day, I will put my mark on this pretty little neck of yours. Won’t be today, won’t be tomorrow, and it damn sure won’t be until you are ready. But you have to accept who you really are first. And you have to love yourself despite what the people around you think. Shit, you think I have an easy time running the streets when I swing both ways?” He shook his head before taking one last drag of your cigarette so you could put it out.

“Why’d you have to let me in to your house?”

“Would you prefer I let those two fucks beat you to death?”

“Obviously.”

“Oh, well excuse me, mother fucker. Next time you go running past my fucking house, I’ll make sure to trip you so they can catch up faster.” He tried to elbow you in the side but you were too close and your arm was on top of his. “I’ll warn you now, you don’t wanna jar this fucking knot outta your ass or your gunna know the true fucking definition of pain.”

“Fuck you… I’m fucking cold.”

“Alright, don’t wiggle, don’t clench.”

“Don’t… whoa, don’t fucking do that!” You smirked as you hugged him closer to you and used your leg to pull the blanket closer to you again.

“Hey, you were bitching about being cold.” You spread the blanket over both of you and moved the ashtray out of the way as Mickey snuggled into your arm under his pillow. “Better?”

“Better.” With one more nod, you laid your head down on the pillow behind him and sighed.

“Get some sleep, baby boy. I gotta go over and check on Gertie and make sure she eats and takes her pills.”

“Such a fucking do-gooder.”

“Fuck you, go to sleep.”

Part 3

[roxielosteyes]

Last poll for a fanfic name 👍

[double--hh]

TW: Dick Vain Face aka Gert

The newest sexyman has hit the TNMN community, lock your windows

[lizabethstucker]

The Misadventures of Nero Wolfe edited by Josh Pachter

Subtitled: Parodies and Pastiches Featuring the Great Detective of West 35th Street

I loved this collection of stories, with only a few exceptions. Overall, I would give it 4.5 out of 5.

Introductions: Trouble in Triplicate

“At Wolfe’s Door” by Otto Penzler ~ about the characters.

“A Family Affair” by Rebecca Stout Bradbury ~ Rex Stout’s daughter provides a peek at the author.

“Plot It Yourself” by Josh Pachter ~ how the collection came to be.

Pastiches (Respectful imitations of the original works)

“The Red Orchid” by Thomas Narcejac

Translated from French, the story was written in 1947. The first English publication wasn’t until 1961. A young woman comes to hire Wolfe to discover who is trying to kill her uncle, a man who claims to have developed a red orchid. More creepy than respectful, especially how Archie hits on the female client. Too offensive for me. DNF

“Chapter 8 from ‘Murder in Pastiche’” by Marion Mainwaining

Published in 1955, this novel can also be found under the title of “Nine Detectives All at Sea”. A notorious gossip columnist is murdered during a sea cruise across the Atlantic. There are nine famous detectives on the ship as passengers. Trajan Beare, aka Nero Wolfe, is the focus of this particular chapter. It is hard to judge the whole book based on just one chapter. However, the characterization should be noted as being extremely close to the original source material. A nice read. No rating as it is just an excerpt.

“The Archie Hunters” by Jon L. Breen

Written in 1968, but never published until now. A cross of Nero Wolfe and Mike Hammer. Mock Himmler beats the crap out of anyone he encounters, particularly if they disagree with him or do something he doesn’t like. After beating up a news seller for carrying a “commie” magazine, Mock discovers an ad in the back requesting a private investigator for a missing person case. The ad, placed by Nero Wolfe, leads Mock to presume the missing person is Archie Goodwin. I’ve never been a fan of Mike Hammer nor his creator, Mickey Spillane, finding both of them to be disgusting in their love of violence, misogyny, and attitudes in general. I did enjoy this story nonetheless. 4 out of 5

“The Frightened Man” by O. X. Rusett

Gave up early on this anagram-stuffed story, even to the author’s name. More annoying than clever or cute. DNF

“Chapter 1 from ‘Murder in E Minor’” by Robert Goldsborough

I read the whole book when it was first published and, frankly, wasn’t too impressed. I do know that Goldsborough was selected by the Stout Estate to be the official author of the novels and I have read a few of his more recent books. I may try and reread it sometime down the road to see if my opinion has changed. No rating as it is only one chapter.

“The Purloined Platypus” by Marvin Kaye

While Goldsborough has the exclusive novel rights, Kaye asked to write short stories and was given the Estate’s permission as long as no novels were ever written. Benjamin Moultrie, president and board chairman of the Museum of the Strange, Odd and Peculiar, wants to hire Wolfe to investigate a robbery at the museum. As I wasn’t reading the magazines such as Ellery Queen and Alfred Hitchcock, I missed reading any of these stories. Which is quite a tragedy. Excellent portrayals of not only the characters, but the case itself. 4 out of 5.

Parodies (Exaggerated imitations intended to poke fun at the source material)

“The House on 35th Street” by Frank Littler

Originally appeared in The Saturday Review in 1966. Little is known about the author, despite Pachter’s research attempts. A crowd is assembled in the Brownstone in a murder case, wanting to see some of the detective’s famous actions and quirks. There is an undercurrent of a very personal nature, especially at the end. 3.5 out of 5

“The Sidekick Case” by Patrick Butler

Another entry from The Saturday Review, this time in 1968, and another case of little information on the author. Wolfe objects to Archie being called a “sidekick” in a listing of the latest book. Cute. 3.5 out of 5

“The Case of the Disposable Jalopy” by Mack Reynolds

America has turned into an illiterate welfare state, Wolfe and Archie are old and sometimes forgetful, and things are beyond tight financially. Reynolds uses the last names of some of the biggest authors in Science Fiction in the story. These men want to hire Wolfe for a case of sabotage and the disappearance of a key developer. What a weird world Reynolds has built. As to the updates on the normal cast of characters in the series? Well, I never liked Orrie anyway. 4 out of 5

“As Dark as Christmas Gets” by Lawrence Block

An unpublished manuscript written by Cornell Woolrich is stolen during a Christmas party. The owner hires Wolfe wannabe Leo Haig and his Goodwin substitute, Chip Harrison, to recover it. I’ve come across stories in this series before and loved them, both for the obvious affection for the source material as well as the excellent characterization. 4.5 out of 5

“Who’s Afraid of Nero Wolfe?” by Loren D. Estleman

Arnie Woodbine, currently on parole, was fired from his last job for gambling on company time. He needs a job and finds an ad looking for an assistant sharp of wit. He finds himself hired by Claudius Lyon, a corpulent man with delusions of being Nero Wolfe. Arnie is hired as his Archie. Now all they need is a case. Since Lyon doesn’t have a private detective license and Arnie’s felony record prevents him from ever getting one, they would not be able to charge for their services. No problem as Lyon is actually quite wealthy. Their first case is regarding a poetry award that carries with it a $10,000 prize. One winner doesn’t appear to actually exist. Seriously one of the best sendups that I’ve ever read! This was a delight to read and deserved more stories. 4.5 out of 5.

“Julius Katz and the Case of Exploding Wine” by Dave Zeltserman

A friend of Julius’ that has a champion bulldog and heads a dog food company comes to see Julius with the dog in tow, asking for help to find someone to prevent Brutus from being kidnapped. He also asks that Julius find his murderer if he’s killed. Sure enough, the man is killed. Julius had agreed to investigate, but only after he gave the police a week to solve it themselves. Just as the week is up, an adversary calls to warn Julius that there is a bomb in his house, contained in a box of wine. Julius allows almost everyone to believe he is dead after the townhouse is completely destroyed from top to bottom. I absolutely loved this sorta tribute to Rex Stout. I’m particularly intrigued by Archie, an AI who is installed in Julius’ tie pin. That alone has me eyeing the book collections, but to be honest, this is a damn fine mystery. Julius is definitely not Nero Wolfe, at least in size, athleticism (martial arts), and loving women (a former womanizer who now has a regular girlfriend). He definitely is in the aspects of intelligence, laziness, and cutting Archie out of the loop. His collecting focus is wine rather than orchids, but both can be very expensive hobbies. 4.5 out of 5.

“The Possibly Last Case of Tiberius Dingo” by Michael Bracken

Age and diet are catching up to Tiberius Dingo’s body, but his mind and deductive reasoning is still as sharp as ever. His long-time assistant, Jughead Badloss, brings a client he dances with at the Senior Center, a woman who is certain she is being stalked. Family ties and age-old secrets are ripped out into the open before the case is done, for their client and for Jughead himself. The names are a little lame, but the story made up for it. 3.5 out of 5.

Potpourri

“The Woman Who Read Rex Stout” by William Brittain

Gertrude Jellison was the fat lady at a carnival sideshow, an intelligent woman whose extreme weight, over 500 pounds, kept her from her dream job of teaching psychology. Her partner, Robert Kirby, is the thin man, barely weighing seventy-five pounds. As a stunt, the carnival boss gave her Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe books to read during the shows. Surprisingly enough, Gert loved them and continued reading. She never expected to use what she learned to solve a murder, but sadly a newer member of the troup, a beautiful woman named Lili who was like a daughter to Gert, is murdered and the older woman knows she can solve the crime. This is a character that I could seriously have loved to read more about. A good little mystery as well, even if I quickly realized who the murderer would turn out to be. 3.5 out of 5.

“Sam Buried Caesar” by Josh Pachter

Police inspector Griffen had eleven children, each of whom was named after a famous fictional detective. Nero, just eleven years old, had set up his own detective agency, aided by his best friend and neighbor Artie Goodman. Their latest client, Sam, came to them after his dog, Caesar, was hit and killed by an out-of-state driver. Not wanting the poor animal to be left coldly abandoned on the street, he buried the dog in an empty lot. Coming back a short time later to get Caesar’s collar, the body is missing. He hires Nero and Artie to find the killer and recover the body. Sad and cute and inventive, but how Artie puts up with Nero will always be a mystery. 3.5 out of 5.

“Chapter 24 from Rasputin’s Revenge” by John Lescroart

The basic premise is that Nero Wolfe is the son of Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler. I’ve not read this particular book, but it appears to be the last chapter in which Archie and Wolfe, going under his original name, are in Russia, appeared to have come up against Gregori Rasputin (although the author has it as Gregory), and was helped by Holmes and Dr. Watson after they were wanted for murder. I’m not going to rate it as I don’t consider it fair to rate a novel based on just one chapter.

“A scene from Might as Well Be Dead” by Joseph Goodrich

Adaptation of the story into a play. Once again, not rated.

“The Damned Doorbell Rang” by Robert Lopresti

When their fourteen granddaughter came to visit in a snit because her parents won’t allow her to go with friends to a concert in New York City, Eve and Jack decide to tell her about why they left the City. When they were younger, they had a brownstone in the City. Their neighbors were definitely different, all men living there. Jack didn’t much like any of them and keeps disparaging Eve’s stories about what they saw while living there. But Eve tells a tale of how she saved the men’s lives. Too many close calls are the reason that they moved to New Jersey. How could I not love this outsider’s look at Nero Wolfe? 3.5 out of 5.

[billiethepoet]

2019 Goals Post: Let’s Wrap This Shitshow Up

I felt like I bombed it this year but looking back over these and thinking about what I did this year, I actually did pretty well. Some goals took adjustment but yay for me! 

So here are the goals I set for myself in 2019 and how I did on them. 

Writing

Write 100k words in 2019. This can be fiction or publications for work. 

I didn’t write 100k words. BUT! I did write a little over 75k words AND published three fucking books this year so I’m pretty dang pleased with myself. Partially achieved. 

Publish two articles for work. 

Nothing got done here! Nothing! I’ve had a book chapter with the editor for almost a year and I’m still waiting on it to go to press. Failed. 

Let’s get physical! 

Really, get your act together Gert. Get back into running and yoga. Go to the gym. I’m trying not to be too harsh on this goal and build up to it because I’ve failed so hard at it the last two years. 

FAILED. 

Run another half, most likely in the fall. 

FAILED.

$$$

Max out both my work 401k and Roth IRA. I really want to retire as soon as possible, tbh. 

Achieved! 

Plan for some big purchases, like a new-to-us car and new living room furniture. 

Well, we bought a new-new car, which is never the smartest financial move but I’m really happy with it. And our neighbor gave us a couch so *shrug*. Achieved. 

Set a goal each month for a certain number of “no spend” days. We spend too much money on eating out and going to the coffee shop and I think this might be a way to curb this. 

I did this a few times early in the year and decided it was a stupid goal and I didn’t enjoy doing it. Dropped. 

On the road again…

My bestie is traveling a lot this spring while on sabbatical and I’m planning on tagging along! The goal is to make two international trips in 2019. 

I went on three international trips (two for fun, one for work). I went to five countries, four of which were new for me, and a new continent! Achieved! 

I’m also going to go to two cons: 221bCon in April and Dragon*Con in August/September. 

Achieved!

Work Work Workity Work Work

I’d like to get a promotion at the end of 2019 so I’m trying to think of ways to make that happen. 

I didn’t get a promotion but I became a bosslady! And I got a nice raise and bonus. Partially achieved. 

I’d like to work on 3 new projects this year. 

Achieved! 

Learn R. I’ve said this before and failed at it but I think it would be helpful. 

I did a couple courses and I wouldn’t say I *know* R, I feel better about using it. Achieved. 

Some random shit

Go back to practicing Spanish, probably via Duolingo 

Achieved!

Learn to make e-book covers. I just think that would be fun. 

Achieved!