#which might mean i might get sucked into that rabbit hole again and emerge after a while.....

[kamiina]

Sooo uh is anyone gonna write about cynt's and karis' history and relationship before the incident, or should i volunteer myself-

[starkerparkerstark]

I want INCESTUOUS SMUT I want SO MUCH INCESTUOUS SMUT, lil squishy, words cannot EXPRESS how much incestuous smut I want. I want the DIRTY the FILTHY the HOT AND KRISPY KENTUCKY FRIED INCEST. I want Uncle Tony volunteering to watch Peter while May goes on a much needed vacation. I need them fucking on May's bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter, they're like rabbits. Can you do it? Can I have it? Please?

So I have changed it so May has gone away for work 😆and I plan on making a second part to this to complete your request fully.💖🌸

❗️❗️Warning this contains Starker content and incest.❗️❗️

Tony smiled as he knocked on the front door of the apartment.

He could hear Peter laughing at something. Most likely one of the tv shows he likes.

“Peter can you get the door?” May yelled from inside.

Tony shook his head and chuckled.

The door swung open to reveal Peter in his pyjama shorts and oversized hoodie.

“Uncle Tony!” Peter yelled and rushed forward for a hug. He snuggled his face into the crook of his uncle’s neck. “I have missed you.”

Tony could smell the scent of Peter’s shampoo as they hugged “I missed you too buddy.”

Peter withdrew from the hug, leaving Tony wishing they could just stand there and hug for hour. He would deal with the sore legs if it meant he could stay that close to him.

“Come in. May has almost finished cooking.”

“Hmmmm…I hope it isn’t as black as last time.”

May scoffed as she rounded the corner “Hey! It added to the flavour.”

Peter was giggling at them both. “The flavour was pretty burnt like.”

May wacked him in the head with the hand towel playfully. “Cheeky. Now go wash your hands for dinner.”

Peter smirked and saluted before dashing off to the bathroom.

May shook her head and laughed. “How are you Tony?” she asked as she gave him a hug.

“Not too bad. Just busy with building new prototypes for the project I’m working on.”

May rose an eyebrow “Have you been getting sleep?”

“Yes I have.”

May pursed her lips and shook a finger “nuh uh. Liar. I can tell when you haven’t slept in a while.”

Tony held up his hands in surrender “Okay. You got me. I have been awake for 34 hours.”

May rolled her eyes. “Alright, we will talk about that later. First is dinner.”

Peter sprinted back around the corner, a huge smile on his face and his big bambi eyes looking right at Tony. “Come sit next to me Uncle Tony” Peter demanded and tugged on his hand, directing him to the seat at the table.

___________

May’s dinner turned out to be a success. Not burnt this time, which was rare. Tony and Peter seemed to have a good laugh and tease May about her many failures at cooking while they ate.

“Peter have you finished your homework for today?” May asked as she finished her glass of wine.

“aww but Uncle Tony is here. Can’t I do it tomorrow?”

Tony felt all giddy over the fact that Peter wanted to spend time with him. It was nice to be wanted.

“Nope. You get that done tonight.”

Peter let out a groan in annoyance.

Tony pat Peter on the back, gaining his attention. “Go on kid. You go finish it and then I will show you the project I have been working on. Plus I think May is about to give me a lecture about how I need sleep. Don’t think you want to sit through that.” Tony winked at him.

Peter’s cheeks went rosy and he nodded his head. “Okay. I will be back out soon. Thanks for dinner May!.”

May smiled as she watched Peter rush off to his room. “He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah he is.” Tony agreed

May looked to Tony and straightened up a bit. “Tony.”

Tony eyed her suspiciously and smiled “May”

May rolled her eyes “Don’t worry. I am not going to lecture you. I have just been meaning to ask a favour.”

Tony leaned forward, chin placed upon his entwined fingers “Sure, what is it?”

“My boss has asked me to go to a conference in Atlanta for a few days, but I don’t want to leave Peter here alone. I would be constantly worried and thinking about him. I was wondering, if you’re not too busy that is. Could you stay here with him while I’m gone?”

Tony smiled at May “Of course I’ll look after him. When are you leaving?”

May’s eyes lit up “Oh my gosh thank you Tony. You have no idea how much I appreciate you doing this for me. I leave on Thursday and won’t be back until Sunday night.”

“It’s no problem May. I’d do anything for that kid.”

May place her hands out and Tony held onto them.

“I know you would Tony. Thank you.”

——————-

 It was another half hour before Peter emerged from his room. He looked a bit more tired than before he left. His curly brown locks fell in front of his face and he rubbed his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie. Tony couldn’t help but think how cute he looked. He was just waiting for him to pout and complete the look.

Peter slumped down onto the couch and snuggled into Tony’s side. “Homework sucks” he mumbled.

This earned a chuckle from Tony as he wrapped his arm around Peter. “Yeah it does, but it is good you are getting it done.”

Peter seemed to snuggle in closer. “Can you show me what you were working on now?”

“Yeah of course.” Tony replied, pulling out his phone and starting to chat away about the project. Even while tired, Peter stayed focused on what Tony was saying and asked questions.

Peter’s light snores filled the room after an hour.

“Time for bed kiddo.”

Tony carefully moved out of Peters grip and then picked him up and carried him to his bed.

He brushed a curl and tucked it behind his ear before kissing his forehead. “Goodnight kid.”

—————-

 Thursday came around pretty quickly, and honestly Tony was getting really excited to spend time with Peter.

Tony knocked on the front door once again and was greeted with Peter’s bright smile.

“Hey kid. Ready for babysitter Tony?” Tony laughed and opened his arms for a hug.

Peter just laughed at him and wrapped his arms around his uncle.

“I’m happy to have you here for a few days Uncle Tony.”

Tony pressed a kiss to the kid’s temple “I am happy to be here too.”

Peter became all giddy and bit his lower lip.

Tony had to force himself to look away from the boy. If he looked any longer he might just lose control and kiss him.

May rounded the corner with her bag. “Tony! Just in time. I was about to leave.”

“Do you have everything you need?” Tony asked her.

She smiled at him and pecked Tony and Peter’s cheek before going out into the corridor “Yep. I have everything. No big parties while I am gone” She pointed her finger at them and smirked.

“awwwww” Tony whined “but I had a guest list of over a hundred people”

May stuck her tongue out. “Okay I am going now! I’ll be back Sunday night. Call me if there are any problems.”

Tony rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm over Peter’s shoulder “We will be fine”

“Bye!” May waved as she left.

Tony looked down at Peter and clapped his hands together “Alright kid! What are we doing first?”

Peter stroked his chin in thought as they walked back into the apartment.

“Movie and order pizza?”

“Sounds good to me. Do you still have your disgusting pineapple one?”

Peter hit Tony’s chest playfully “it is not disgusting! And yes, that will be my order.”

Tony and Peter sat happily next to each other as they ate their pizza and a movie playing on the tv.

“Thank you again Uncle for ordering pizza.”

“Kid you don’t have to thank me.” Tony ruffled the boy’s hair as he bit into his pizza.

The cheese stretched between Peter’s lips and the pizza as he tried to eat it. He used his tongue to try and get it into his mouth properly. Tony felt himself start to harden while he watched Peter.

Distraction. Distraction now he ordered in his head.

“Uncle. Do you want to try some?”

Tony gulped “Huh?”

“You were watching me. Do you want to try some?”

Before he could even respond Peter placed his hand on Tony’s upper thigh as he leaned in close with the slice he had just bitten from.

Tony’s heart raced as Peter leaned closer.

“Don’t you want some uncle? Or were you wanting a piece of me?”

It was like time froze still for Tony. Did that really just happen?

“wh-what?” was all he could stutter out.

Peter smirked at him. “Do you want me? I have seen the way you look at me Uncle. And I am not so innocent that I can’t recognise that you’re hard right now.”

Tony was at a loss for words “Peter…I..”

Before Tony could even try to say anything Peter pressed his lips against his.

He pulled away after kissing him. Checking for his Uncle’s reaction.

“Fuck I’m going to hell.” Tony said before pulling Peter in to kiss again. Peter moaned as Tony explored his mouth.

Tony’s hand brushed down Peter’s neck and then wrapped around his back, pulling him closer.

Peter felt Tony tugging him closer. He lifted his leg and straddled him, slowly starting to grind against his clothed erection.

“Fuck Pete. I have wanted this for a while now.”

Peter kissed down his Uncle’s jaw “So have I.” he panted out. “Please uncle. I want you to fuck me.”

Tony’s hips thrusted upward at that. “Are you sure Pete? We can take this slow.”

Peter laughed a little and shook his head. “I have been masturbating and fucking myself with a dildo thinking it’s you for months now. I want you Uncle.”

Tony just about drooled at that. “Fuck baby. That’s so hot. You want me to fuck your tight hole?”

“Please” Peter begged.

“Bedroom Pete, now.”

Peter bit his lip. “My bed is a bit small though uncle.”

Tony smirked and grabbed his hips, lifting Peter with him as he stood and made his way to May’s room.

Peter giggled as he was tossed lightly onto the bed.

Tony bit his lip and leaned over him. “You are so pretty baby.” He whispered into his ear as his fingers caressed the boy’s inner thighs, making him pant and moan.

Tony’s fingers made their way to the hem of his shorts and he slowly pulled them down. Tony groaned and lowered his head against Peter’s thigh at the sight of him.

Peter was wearing red lace panties.

“Do you like them Uncle? I got your favourite colour.”

Tony nuzzled his face against the boy’s pantie covered cock, making him squirm and want him even more. “I love them baby.” He placed a kiss along his shaft.

“Such a good boy Pete.” Tony praised and started kissing up the boy’s stomach, pushing his shirt up and exposing his nipples. He ran his tongue over the nubs and slowly bit and sucked at them.

“Please…Tony. I want you inside me.”

Tony kissed his nipple and then went back down and removed the lace panties.

Peter opened his legs, showing Tony his hole.

Tony wasted no time and started licking at him. Getting it all wet and slick. He circled a finger around the entrance and then slowly pushed it inside.

Peter let out a gasp at the feeling of Tony’s finger. “More, please. I can take it.”

“I never realised how much of a slut you were for cock baby” Tony said as entered a second finger and started stretching his hole, placing slow agonising licks against it at the same time.

Peter was becoming a moaning mess on the bed. “Only for your cock. I want to cum while you’re inside me Uncle.”

Tony used a third finger to stretch him a bit more before pulling them out and spitting on his hole.

“You ready Pete?”

The boy nodded his head and bit his lip “Yes.”

Tony quickly unzipped his pants and took off all his clothes while Peter stared at him in awe.

He lined his cock up to Peter and sunk himself slowly into him.

“Fuck!”

Tony thrust in and out slowly but he couldn’t help but speed up quickly. He began fucking into him harder and faster.

“Feels so good Uncle!” Peter gasped out.

Tony leaned down and kissed into Peter’s mouth. The both of them gasped and moaned into each others mouths.

“Fuck Pete. I’m gonna cum”

“Cum uncle cum! Please I want you to fill me up.” Peter was begging him as he reached down and started pumping his own cock.

With one last thrust Tony moaned and came inside the boy.

“Fuckkkkk! Tony!” Peter yelled as he came all over his and Tony’s chest.

The pair were a panting mess as Tony slid out of Peter and then wrapped his arms around him, rolling him over so he lay against his chest.

“That was amazing baby.”

Peter lifted his head and smiled at his uncle. “When can you go again?”

Tony licked his lips and laughed.

“You give me a little bit to rest baby and then I will fuck you over every surface in this apartment.”

Peter pretty much drooled at that. “I want that very much.”

Tony laughed again and placed a kiss to the boy’s lips “we have until Sunday night to make sure we get everywhere”

[keyofjetwolf]

Mostly, you’re drowning.

I won’t go so far as to say that the dynamic of the Horseman family is, on its own merits, particularly unique. It’s almost mundane, really, when you distill it to its most basic points. Beatrice and Butterscotch are your standard class romance staples: her, a bored and dissatisfied debutante, him, a blue-collar aspiring writer with dreams of The Great American Novel. They’re attracted to each other for barely any reasons that have anything to do with who they actually are, they have a fling, she becomes pregnant. They decide to get married and raise the baby, they soon come to hate the situation they’re now in, hate all the choices they make to try and force it all to work, and very possibly hate each other but definitely, at least on some level, hate their kid for “doing” all this to them.

Nothing unique, but that in no way makes it uninteresting, and I think it’s especially tragic and fascinating, the moments where you catch a glimpse from the corner of your eye, can make out the possibilities in the shadows, of what they might have been if they’d maybe just tried.

I’m not sure how much thought I’d have given to the Horseman family as a unit in this episode, even with BoJack’s mentions of his father in his eulogy, without the opening scene. I think it’s part of the episode that’s easily lost in the rest of it, and that’s understandable as it not only comes before the credits, but it feels at first glance to be completely out of step with the rest of it.

I argue, though, that it’s NOT, and is actually more in line with the rest of “Free Churro” than outside it. More on that at the end of this post, I promise I’m going somewhere with that. But first, the beginning.

We open with BoJack at an age we don’t usually visit him. I’d guess maybe about ten here? Maybe twelve? He’s young enough to be left on his own after soccer practice, sitting and shivering in the chilly autumn evening while he waits for his mother to pick him up, but very much still a child.

(Hey, anybody else ever get those sinking feelings, when their parents were running late to get you, that they weren’t ever going to show, and spend the time you suddenly found yourself surrounded by trying to figure out what you were going to do next when they just never came to get you? AHH MEMORIES.)

When someone finally shows up, it’s his father.

This is probably the longest we’ve spent with Butterscotch, at least, when it’s actually him and not him playing out some James Dean role he wants desperately to believe is him. He’s brusque and awful, and BoJack is DEEPLY uncomfortable around him from the second he gets in the car.

What I think is most important about that, though, is that Butterscotch, for all that he sucks, IS THERE. We can follow a lengthy rabbit hole down WHY, exactly, he’s there (personally, I think it’s so he has a reason to stop “writing” with a handy scapegoat in BoJack, but it can be many things), but of all the places we go, of all the things BoJack will talk about in “Free Churro”, the only one ACTUALLY THERE is his father.

And I think that’s one of the key points in BoJack’s relationships and regrets when it comes to his parents. His father, for as much as he might have liked to envision himself a deep and contemplative man, just isn’t. He’s laughably surface and simple, hating the things he’s learning about himself day by day, and turning all that self-loathing on the world around him.

SOUND FAMILIAR? Yeah, it should, it’s not really going to huge lengths to hide that. BoJack IS his father. More self-aware maybe, considerably more clever and thus with a greater capacity for cruelty, but his father pretty much through and through.

Which goes back yet again to the point about his father being a solid, tangible presence for BoJack, which I think is an incredible way to highlight the tragedy he’s attempting to process in his mother’s death. He spends all of this time and energy in trying to puzzle out what his mother’s last words, “I see you”, could mean.

Meanwhile, BoJack’s father left behind an entire novel. “Maybe he thought it would vindicate him for all the shitty things he ever did in his stupid, worthless life,” BoJack says. “Maybe it did. I don’t know. I never read it.” At the end of the day, BoJack doesn’t actually care what his father has to say, what he thought, how he felt. There’s nothing in Butterscotch that, for BoJack, holds the spark of what might have been.

Not like Beatrice.

But then, Butterscotch feels so differently about Beatrice, too. As BoJack is telling us about the parties she’d hold every week, it’s the only moment of wistful fondness he actually demonstrates. When Beatrice would dance, even Butterscotch would emerge from his study to watch, all of them separate, but bound in that moment, and as BoJack talks about it, for a moment, he loses himself in the memory. Still we never see her. Just the faintest impression of her. That’s really all she left him.

It’s the one time BoJack talks about them as something united, something approaching family,and it’s to say how they’re all drowning. It’s twisted and wrong that that’s a bit sweet, but given what we have to work with, I can understand. But I think he’s wrong, or at least, not entirely right. I don’t think they were drowning together and didn’t know how to save each other, I think they were drowning, and taking each other with them.

There’s very little I’m willing to give to BoJack, but he’s due this: he was a child. It wasn’t his job to save ANYONE.

But I do think Butterscotch and Beatrice were drowning each other, each clinging to what they had, unwilling to let go and save themselves, or allow the other even try. It surprised me, then, when I went back to rewatch this, that I found the faintest glimmer of remorse.

When Butterscotch retracts his blame for Beatrice, says that she’s doing the best she can, and that she’s doing the right thing by teaching BoJack so young that he can’t rely on anyone. Oh he never for a second thinks to assure BoJack, fuck that noise. But, even if just for a moment, Butterscotch tries to lift Beatrice above all this, and it legitimately surprised me to see. It’s such a tiny, almost minuscule drop of misfortune in all this, but it makes me think that Butterscotch and Beatrice could have pulled out of all this, that they could have made their lives different. Maybe not what they originally wanted, but SOMETHING. That they might have been able to be happy, if they’d figured out how to try for it.

Which brings me back to what I said in the beginning, about this opening not being so out of line? This isn’t just Butterscotch going on some wild rant, this, like with BoJack, is a journey. This, too, is a eulogy for Beatrice, it’s just forty or so years early from Butterscotch.

It’s good.

Down one sandwich, but up one churro!

[ragehappysecretsanta]

Author: http://thehomoadventuresofroosterteeth.tumblr.com

Recipient: http://ddemonicpanda.tumblr.com

Summary: Things for Gavin and Ryan are pretty great: successful members of the Fake AH crew, loving relationship finally solidified, a GREAT sex life--but what happens when everything gets turned upside down? What happens when everything changes?

Warnings: N/A

WordCount: 5,707

For Gavin Free, nothing could quite compare to sailing down the main roads of Los Santos on the back of a motorbike, one arm wrapped tightly around his boyfriend’s waist, the other extended behind him firing shots at pursuing police units. The thrill of the chase, the wind whipping violently through his hair, the danger of it all--it was second to nothing, and he couldn’t get enough.

“Jesus, Gav, if you actually held onto me with both arms we might be able to get away a bit faster!” Ryan called over the roar of the motorbike engine. His voice echoed tinnily through the comm lodged in Gavin’s ear, and Gavin could pick up the distinct sounds of Michael and Geoff laughing. He grinned, aimed at a cop, and promptly shot off the man’s hat.

“You wouldn’t let me fall, Rye, I have complete faith in you!”

Ryan took a sharp turn down a sideroad and Gavin yelped, lurching forward to wrap his other arm around Ryan’s waist. He could feel the vibrations of Ryan’s deep chuckle as he flattened himself against the taller man’s back.

“Nevermind, you’re a maniac, I never want to ride with you again!” Gavin babbled, sucking in a sharp breath as a series of bullets whizzed past them. Shaking slightly--from the strange mix of fear, adrenaline, and unbridled excitement that he was absolutely used to at this point--Gavin lifted his gun arm and blindly began firing off shots behind them. The sounds of yelling and skidding tires was entirely reassuring.

“I can’t shake these assholes,” Ryan called out over the commotion as Gavin peeled himself off the older man’s back and actually tried to pick off the swiftly growing hoard of police behind them.

“Just keep going down the root, my trigger finger’s getting itchy,” Michael replied. Amid the action, Gavin spared a moment to imagine the redhead poised on a rooftop, detonator gripped tightly in his fist. The Brit grinned as he watched two cops on motorbikes collide as Ryan turned a sharp corner down a slim alleyway.

The day had been run-of-the-mill for the Fakes: bank robbery with a simultaneous jewelry store heist nextdoor. Gavin had put on the gaudiest gold from the front of the store before joining Geoff and Jeremy in the bank vaults. The metal hung warm and heavy from his neck and wrists as he helped stuff armloads of cash and valuables into crates, filling him with a particular sort of glee.

“Try not to blow the both of us up, Michael.”

“No promises, Ryan, Gavin stole my Elite controller last week and still hasn’t given it back.”

The easy banter flowing through the comms became distant background noise as Gavin focused on actually trying not to fall off the motorbike and do himself in on the rough pavement. When they emerged from the alleyway, two more groups of LSPD officers attempted to head them off. Gavin noticed several of the officers were Hybrids, which gave him immense satisfaction--if they had actually had call in Hybrid officers, the Fakes had to have every available member of LSPD on their tails.

A successful heist it was indeed.

“You’re coming up on the detonation point, head’s up.”

Michael’s voice tore Gavin from his own thoughts. Firing his last shot at a cop with rather unsightly antlers, he folded himself back against Ryan, looping both arms securely around the older man’s waist.

“Ready?” Ryan murmured, low enough that the comms couldn’t quite pick it up, and Gavin really felt it more than heard it.

“Always,” the Brit replied, grin spreading across his face.

The motorbike sped past a light pole, and then the world exploded into bright fire and noise and Gavin felt laughter bubbling up through him, roaring heat curling around him.

---

“That was bloody amazing,” Gavin said for the tenth time. Ryan smiled as he climbed off the motorbike and cracked his back. It popped with a satisfying click, and he let out a low groan--being hunched over the thing for two hours was killer on his spine.

“Shall we?” he said after a moment, offering a hand to the Brit. Gavin beamed and linked their fingers together, steering them toward the exit of the garage.

“That was insane, did you see how many cops we had following us?”

Ryan hummed in response, falling quickly into step with the younger man. Just in case, the Fakes had started storing their getaway vehicles in a seperate garage several blocks away from their main tower. Ryan didn’t mind walking the short distance back to headquarters. It gave him a chance to unwind after a heist--and usually a chance to spend some alone time with his boyfriend. Sure, they had plenty of time together, but the weeks before a heist were usually spent together as a crew, and Jack had made the two of them promise not to grope each other during another team planning session. It had been a bit since the two of them had any time to themselves.

The late afternoon sun gleamed bright, catching in the coif of Gavin’s blond hair. The gaudy gold jewelry the younger man had lifted during the heist hung off of him like part of a costume, reflecting the fading beams onto the pavement. Gavin was glowing.

“-and I shot that dude’s hat off, Ryan, it was so fucking funny, I wish you could have seen his face!”

As the two continued toward the main tower, Ryan noticed a hunched figure on the sidewalk up ahead. Wrapped in a shredded blanket and a hat with holes cut out to accommodate her large, rabbit-like ears, the homeless Hybrid looked pitiful. Ryan felt something tug at his heart. He nudged Gavin, who nearly tripped over his own feet.

“What, what is it?”

Ryan didn’t answer, as he had dropped Gavin’s hand and was already approaching the Hybrid. The woman, who had been staring blankly toward the ground, let out a high-pitched scream as Ryan came closer to her. Belatedly, Ryan realized he was still wearing his Vagabond mask and paint, which probably didn’t make him look as well-meaning as he intended.

“Please, ma’am, I don’t want to hurt you, I just wanted to help out,” he said softly, lifting up his hands, palms out. The Hybrid quieted, but her eyes remained wide and weary.

Ryan looked behind him and let out a soft, “Come here!” Gavin came closer, barely even looking at the woman.

“Gimme one of those stupid necklaces,” Ryan muttered. Gavin spluttered and grasped the chains around his neck in his fist.

“But Ryan--”

“Gavin, you have like, fifteen of them, surely you can spare one so a homeless woman can eat tonight,” Ryan deadpanned. Gavin groaned, rolled his eyes, and reluctantly began taking off one of the stolen necklaces, handing it to Ryan with a sigh.

“Thanks, fucker,” Ryan murmured sarcastically. He took a small step closer to the Hybrid, who hadn’t moved an inch. He carefully held out the gold to her, with a smile he knew she couldn’t see, but hoped she could sense.

Slowly, very slowly, the Hybrid stretched out her hand and took the offered necklace. She studied it carefully, then looked at Ryan, a calculating expression on her face.

“Thank you,” she finally whispered in a hoarse voice.

“No problem,” Ryan replied as warmly as he could. With that, he turned on his heel and took hold of Gavin’s hand, yanking him down the street.

“Jesus, Rye, what the hell was that?” Gavin yelped. Ryan rolled his eyes.

“It wouldn’t kill you to be kind to those less fortunate than you, Gav.”

“Yeah, but she’s a Hybrid, she’s just like, she’s not right, she’s a thing, yeah?”

Ryan huffed a sigh--Gavin wasn’t entirely wrong. After the virus had begun spreading into humans at a high pace a few years back, a social hierarchy had formed, with humans firmly on top. Most of the public considered Hybrids as simply intrinsically less, with a small by vocal group calling for group extermination. Ryan wasn’t sure where he stood on the whole Hybrids issue, but he figured no one should be made to starve, and certainly shouldn’t be killed for the sake of “maintaining the purity of humanity,” whatever that meant.

It was confusing as shit and Ryan often longed for the previous decade.

“Maybe I just wanted you to take off all that ridiculous bling before a crow came down to peck our eyes out,” Ryan said tiredly. Another grin spread across his face at the sound of Gavin’s spluttering.

“Hey, you take that back, this shit is fucking fantastic--”

---

“Now, that heist last week was super successful,” Geoff declared from the head of the long table. Michael let out a whoop and high-fived Jeremy, Jack shooting them a fond look. Gavin glanced toward Ryan, who was leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face.

“But, but, we’ve got some other shit to deal with,” continued Geoff. Michael sobered quickly--kiss-ass, Gavin thought--and cleared his throat.

“What’s up, boss?”

“One of the other crews here in Los Santos, the Gremlins, want to meet up to discuss a possible truce. Apparently one of the local arms dealers has been screwing them on pricing and they think the influence of Fake AH could help persuade him to lower his rates.”

Gavin perked up, eyes darting over to Ryan, then back at Geoff. Truce talks mean negotiation, and negotiation means The Golden Boy and his personal guard, the Vagabond. Tendrils of excitement fluttered in his stomach at the thought of it.

“So we need to send in Gavin and Ryan first, see what’s up and figure out preliminary negotiations. After they get back we’ll get together again and see what we can do. If we can get the Gremlins on our side, even if it’s only for a bit, we could really make some headway on regaining our San Andreas territory.” Geoff had what Gavin called the ‘evil genius’ expression on--the look he really only got when the thought of total territory control sucked him in.

“Gavin, Ryan, do you want any of us to come with you? The Gremlins have a nasty track record of showing up with reinforcements,” Jack asked. Gavin shook his head, meeting Ryan’s gaze. They could handle it together.

“We’ve got this, thanks Jack,” Ryan replied from across the table.

“Jack, you forgot, this is Gavin and Ryan’s weird sex thing,” Jeremy said with a laugh, “You don’t want to be around them when they do negotiations.”

Michael promptly burst into a fit of laughter, with Geoff close behind. Gavin let out an exasperated sigh but smiled all the same. The others often poked fun at he and Ryan spending time together, but this far in the game, it really didn’t both him. Besides, the two of them could go for a nice evening on the town after the meetup, perhaps rent a room at one of the downtown highrise hotels and order the most expensive champagne on the room service menu…

Maybe Jeremy wasn’t entirely wrong about it being a sex thing.

---

Gavin had been Geoff Ramsey’s Golden Boy for years, and he loved it. The power that came from his status filled him with a kind of personal satisfaction that was rivaled only by giving Ryan an orgasm and convincing Ryan to do dumb shit with him.

Being the Golden Boy meant putting on ridiculously expensive clothing, styling his hair with an ungodly amount of product, and wearing the most horrendous golden sunglasses he could find. It was like armour, in a way--his protection against those beneath him, who would have him destroyed were it not for the sheer amount of power Gavin held over them.

Being the Golden Boy meant talking pretty, taking no shit, and getting what he wanted, whenever he wanted. And he was pretty damn good at it. The reputation he had garnered certainly helped--

Don’t piss off Ramsey’s Golden Boy, or he’ll set his Vagabond on your ass.

Don’t piss off Ramsey’s Golden Boy, or he’ll make sure the next Fake AH heist is pinned on your crew.

Don’t piss off Ramsey’s Golden Boy, or you won’t be walking around for much longer.

Power-trip didn’t remotely begin to express what Gavin experienced.

He loved living amid the whispered fear, his cold exterior proper protection against any and all who dared to oppose him. It had taken him so long, so many years to get to where he was, and he fucking loved it.

---

“I don’t like this,” Ryan murmured and he and Gavin approached the abandoned shipping port warehouse the Gremlins had requested as a meeting spot. Decked in his full body armour, assault rifle strapped to his back, Ryan felt out of place on the small pier, and a shiver of discomfort pulled in the pit of his stomach.

“They won’t try anything, Rye. And even if they do, we can handle it.” Gavin had already slipped into his Golden Boy persona, meaning his words were dripping with a elegant venom that Ryan thought was the funniest thing in the world.

(He had seen Gavin at 7 AM with wild bedhead cradling a cup of coffee, nearly drowning in one of Ryan’s shirts, looking at him with wide doe eyes glittering in the morning light like emeralds--soft, vulnerable, adorable, nothing like the sharp angles and cold metal of Gavin’s favorite presentation.)

Which also meant that he was going to be an awful prick for the next half hour, because Golden Boy Gavin was the ultimate, sure-of-himself, know-it-all asshole. It was arguably the worst part of being the muscle during the negotiation meetings.

“Whatever you say,” Ryan replied tersely, squaring his shoulders and wrenching the warehouse doors open.

They’re greeted by four members of the Gremlins sitting around a card table in the center of the warehouse, dim fluorescent lighting painting shadows along the walls. The crew members appeared to be playing some kind of game with throwing knives, with several lodged in a post several feet away. At the sound of the doors opening, a tall brunet looked up, knife poised above his head.

“Ah, the Golden Boy has arrived,” he announced, lowing his arm and indicating for the other Gremlin members to stand. Ryan scanned them quickly: two other men and a woman, all lean muscle and utterly blank expressions. Not too hard to take out if need be.

“Please, no need to stand. We’re just having a casual little chat, yeah?” Gavin said smoothly, his syllables drawn out ever so slightly. Ryan felt a sharp spike of admiration shoot through him like a lightning bolt as he watched Gavin’s controlled composure, the way he moved as if he owned the room and everyone in it. There was a reason they usually had sex after negotiation talks…

The meeting went about the same as others--the tall brunet making a request of a truce for a temporary period, Gavin explaining the usual Fake AH terms, all routine and something Ryan usually tuned out in favor of trying to intimidate the Gremlin guards.

It was slightly childish, but Ryan never claimed to not be immature, so he stood straight and proud and practiced spinning and throwing a small dagger he always kept strapped to his thigh. Gavin had gotten it for him when the two had gone on a weekend excursion to a renaissance festival in the northern part of the state, jokingly asking if Ryan could take anyone out with it before they left the faire grounds. He had refrained, but only because it was a nice weekend and it would have been a hassle to make a hasty getaway back to Los Santos.

“So that’s it then,” Gavin said loudly, signaling Ryan to be on alert just in case. Some crews would try and pull something right when they were leaving, which Ryan thought was just dirty and wrong.

“Actually, there’s one more thing,” the brunet said, standing and motioning for one of the other crew members. Ryan watched carefully as the woman nodded and walked swiftly over to one of the warehouse walls. The sound of mechanical beeps echoed through the empty space, and Ryan realized with a sinking heart that there must have been some sort of control panel on the wall.

“Nathanial, what exactly are you--” Gavin started, a hard edge in his voice. Ryan tore his eyes away from the woman to Gavin and the taller man, ready to jump in should the need arise.

“I’m so sorry, fellas,” the brunet said conversationally, reaching under his seat and withdrawing what appeared to be a gas mask, “But you see, we don’t actually have any problems with any arms dealers. We just wanted to get some Fake AH members down here so we could test out this concentrated virus sample we got our hands on. It was fucking expensive, so it’s a good thing we got ourselves the Vagabond and the Golden Boy, huh?”

Ryan was debating the relative merits of just throwing his dagger at the woman over at the wall when a faint hissing noise began emanating from the ceiling. All of the Gremlin members had donned identical masks, and the brunet’s eye gleamed from beneath his.

Not quite thinking, Ryan threw himself forward and grabbed the stunned Gavin by the wrist--unfortunately, his reaction times tended to suffer when he got into the Golden Boy headspace--and ran toward the warehouse door. He didn’t stop running until they were back in the empty lot they had parked in.

The ride back to base was silent. It usually took a bit of time for Gavin to return to what Ryan categorized as “normal,” and when things went wrong, that time usually doubled. Ryan, meanwhile, usually brooded over his own mistakes, thanking everything under the sun that Gavin hadn’t been physically injured.

“We need to check ourselves into quarantine,” Ryan finally said as he navigated the car into the garage. This seemed to snap Gavin out of whatever dimension he had slipped into, as his head whipped around to face Ryan and his mouth dipped into a deep frown.

“Ryan, the absolute last thing I need right now is to be put in a sterile room and poked at by people in protective gear,” he growled cooly. Ryan matched his frown, wishing he could let himself and Gavin curl up in their shared bed as they decompressed.

“Gavin, we were just exposed to some sort of mystery virus. This could be anything, it could be lethal, we need to get checked out and make sure we aren’t the fucking, typhoid Marys of the demon disease apocalypse or something.”

Logic rarely worked on Golden Boy Gavin, and now was no exception. Gavin remained nonplused, and Ryan let out a huff through his nose.

“I swear to God, Gavin, if you don’t come to quarantine I’ll carry you there myself.”

---

Gavin woke in stages. Everything felt hazy and weird and he couldn’t quite remember where he was. His eyes peeled open slowly, and the harsh fluorescent lights made his head pound.

That’s when the last few days came back, clear as a bell: the negotiation with the Gremlins that went wrong, the admittance into quarantine, the repeated battery of tests for foreign pathogens. Caleb and the rest of the med team couldn’t find anything wrong with either of them, but decided keeping Gavin and Ryan in quarantine for a few days wouldn’t be the end of the world. Gavin just wanted out so he could talk with Geoff about just how to get back at those lying little shits.

Then Gavin got tired--a bone-tired that felt like his entire being needed to go to sleep for years. He couldn’t tell if hours or days had passed since he let himself fall into the inky depths of sleep.  

He shifted on the cot, uncomfortable, then promptly froze. Something was sticking into his back. Something boney and angular and soft--

Gavin tilted his head and felt his entire body still.

He had wings.

He hadn’t had wings when he had gone to sleep. He certainly hadn’t had wings when he went to go talk with the fucking Gremlin negotiators.

He had wings.

Thoughts refused to process. A few moments later, stunned and angry and scared, Gavin faded back into deep, dreamless sleep.

---

Ryan stared at his reflection in the polished hospital bay mirror. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make the horns on the top of his head go away. They were stark white, curved inward, and sharp as a knife. He had nearly drawn blood when he first touched them.

The Gremlins had somehow gotten their hands on a concentrated hybrid virus sample, the bastards. Caleb had explained that, in the grand scheme of viral warfare, they could have gotten into something much worse. Ryan had just nodded and marveled at the strange experience of having a fucking tail.

It hadn’t occurred until he was alone that, for all intents and purposes, the Vagabond was dead.

For years, Ryan had been the Vagabond: the enigma, the night-terror, the masked assassin who could kill you in one hundred different ways of varying creativity. Everyone feared the Vagabond. Gavin had been absolutely terrified of him when he first joined the crew. Admittedly, he had rarely taken on off his mask around anyone, and the mask was an important element of being the Vagabond.

He had liked that power, in the same way he assumed Gavin enjoyed the power of his whole Golden Boy persona. He liked that he wasn’t pushed around, wasn’t underestimated. People feared him, yes, but respected him all the same. Everyone knew not to get on the Vagabond’s bad side.

And now the Vagabond was a Hybrid.

No one respected Hybrids. Sure, lots of people pitied Hybrids, sympathized with them and felt bad for them, but no one respected them. They were jokes, less-than, creatures. There were crowds of people calling for segregation, removal of rights, extermination--

The Vagabond was dead. The Gremlins had killed him.

---

When Gavin woke again, it was to the feeling of someone carding their fingers through his hair. The comforting gesture eased him gently out of sleep, and for a moment, everything was normal.

Then his back twinged in discomfort and everything crashed down again and dammit, he was crying.

“Gavin--” Ryan started, his hands coming to a stop on Gavin’s head. The younger man flipped heavily onto his side, back toward his boyfriend, and silently willed Ryan to go back to stroking his hair as tears streamed steadily down his face.

For a few moments, the two stayed still. Gavin watched blankly as his vision blurred, his mind entirely blank.

“Are you alright, Gavin?”

Ryan’s voice was soft, but it cut through the quiet of the room like a knife. Gavin’s still, silent meltdown shattered like glass, giving way to an intense fury and frustration that distantly shocked him. He sat bolt upright and turned to face Ryan, eyes burning and heart pounding.

“No, Ryan, I am not alright,” he said thickly, fighting around a lump in his throat, “Because I’m a bloody Hybrid and I have lost literally everything I’ve fought for. You think I can go out and be a powerful negotiator with these fucking wings? You think anyone will ever take the Golden Boy seriously if he’s got feathers flapping behind him?

No one gives a shit about Hybrids. It’s easy to take down a Hybrid. They’re weak, they’re useless, they don’t have power or glory or respect. I’ve lost fucking everything that Geoff helped me get. I’ll end up back on the streets, just like before, picking pockets and eating scraps and getting kicked and beaten because of this virus. I’ve got nothing.”

Gavin quieted as a round of heavy sobs ripped through his throat, overcoming him. He hunched forward, his crying turned harsh and ugly and raw. The entire time, Ryan remained quiet, and Gavin almost started yelling again, because Ryan always had some sort of logic to apply to a situation. His continued silence just further confirmed everything Gavin feared.

After what felt like an eon, Gavin felt himself run out of tears. It was like someone had turned off a faucet--one moment, water streamed from his eyes, the next, nothing. His breathing evened out, and his lungs ached for air and water. Through it all, though, there was an underlying feeling of relief, but Gavin stubbornly ignored it.  

“You didn’t lose everything.”

Gavin quickly looked up and blearily stared at Ryan. He had almost missed the older man’s words.

“You didn’t lose everything, Gavin.”

Suddenly, Gavin was being wrapped up in Ryan’s arms, the older man sliding down onto the bed and pulling the Brit into a tight embrace. Gavin felt his hands briefly sweep past the wings on his back, pulling away quickly each time he touched them as if they had burned him. All the same, Ryan held him, cradled him in his arms and melded their bodies together. Gavin buried his face in Ryan’s neck, sniffling.

“What do I have left?”

“Me, you idiot.”

Gavin huffed out a laugh and nuzzled into Ryan’s neck, nearly buzzing as Ryan rubbed soothing circles on his lower back. For a while, the two lay together, wrapped up in one another. Gavin felt his breathing hitch every so often, a soft hiccup catching him by surprise more than once. Soon, though, he was able to match Ryan breath for breath, and a sort of numb contentment flooded his body.

It was only then that he realized Ryan had horns.

---

Things were slow going for a while. When the others first saw them, Gavin couldn’t help but feel hurt by their stares. He knew, deep down, that the other four couldn’t give less of a shit if they tried, but deep social prejudice is hard to beat. Gavin was still struggling to wrap his brain around it.

But after a while, things returned to vaguely normal. Heists were planned, video games were played. Michael and Jeremy wrestled with Gavin after dinner, rolled around on the ground with him and Geoff egged them on and Jack rolled his eyes and Ryan ignored them in favor of cleaning his guns. But it still felt off.

(Gavin had to cut holes in all his shirts and jackets. Well, in honesty, he convinced Lindsay to do it for him, because he was notoriously bad at cutting straight lines, and he would rather not accidentally shred his entire wardrobe.

Taking showers was admittedly easier than he expected. His shower was spacious enough to accommodate the wings, and said wings were rather water resistant. He probably should have done a bit of research on birds, but the thought of doing so made his stomach turn uncomfortably, so he supposed he could figure shit out himself.

He wondered, occasionally, if he could attempt flight. But then he remembered that he wasn’t the hugest fan of heights in general.)

Gavin struggled through the foggy depression that had settled over him. Things became rather difficult, he realized, when your entire life changed. When every stigma and prejudice he once held was suddenly turned inwards. When he couldn’t walk down the street without feeling the judgmental stares of hundreds. When he caught sight of his sunglasses and hair gel and a cold, isolating hurt settled into his bones.

The Golden Boy was no more. Everything Geoff had given him, everything that he had built up and the reputation he had worked so hard to maintain, was gone. The power, the glory, the legend, it was all gone.

Because no one listened to a Hybrid. No one respected a Hybrid. No one held a full conversation with a Hybrid. The Golden Boy was a Hybrid now, and that was as good as a death sentence.

The final nail in the coffin was when Geoff sent Michael and Jack to the next negotiation talk.

“It would probably be for the best they went,” Geoff reasoned, eyes soft and pitying, making something deep in Gavin burn bright hot with anger, “We’ll figure this out Gavin, but just, for right now, let’s do it this way.”

So things weren’t great.

---

Ryan gave himself two weeks to feel sorry for himself. For two weeks, he moped around the tower, cleaned his gun repeatedly, and played through the entire campaign of Skyrim--twice. At his final count, he had consumed forty-six cans of Diet Dr. Pepper.

But after the two weeks were up, Ryan went back to his normal schedule. He woke up early, he worked out, he ate breakfast, he went about normal business. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

Except it wasn’t.

Every time he picked up his Vagabond mask, he felt nauseous. He thought of how he horns would protrude through the top and it made his head throb. While Geoff hadn’t outright said it, Ryan could sense that they were going to need to discuss the Vagabond’s involvement in further heists. Perhaps Ryan would participate maskless...

He couldn’t imagine anything worse than that.

He supposed the worst thing to come out of this whole thing was that he and Gavin had barely spent any time together whatsoever. They had both retreated to their separate rooms after being released from quarantine, but that was weeks ago, and they hadn’t said more than three sentences to each other since that afternoon in Gavin’s hospital room.

It was starting to drive Ryan insane.

The two of them had only been dating for a few months before this whole thing happened, and now, Ryan feared, it seemed like it was all over.

So he gave himself a week to wallow before resolving to actually fucking talk to Gavin so he could figure out if he needed to mourn their relationship and move on or what.

The hard part was plucking up the courage to actually talk to Gavin. It seemed as if the younger man had put up walls to go along with his wings, because he never once looked approachable. Even when Michael or Jeremy had him pinned to the floor, the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Ryan hated it. He missed Gavin like a hole in his goddamn heart, and he need him, dammit! Had he not also just gone through a huge emotional and physical trauma?

He needed the comfort of his boyfriend as much as his boyfriend probably needed him.

---

Gavin was nuzzled into the couch, tapping away at some dumb game on his phone, when he felt the cushions dip next to him. Locking his phone, Gavin turned to face his visitor and felt a bit shocked to see Ryan sitting on the couch next to him, looking nervously at his hands.

The man looked slightly gaunt. A healthy dusting of stubble had sprouted along his jaw, and his hair was mused and slightly wild, the bright-white horns nestled in it poking out proudly. Gavin realized it had probably been a week since he had focused his attention on Ryan, let alone had a conversation with him. An anxious guilt spread through him.

“Hi, Rye.”

The words shocked him as they came out, as he hadn’t thought he was going to say anything. Ryan seemed equally surprised, looking up and meeting Gavin’s eyes. A warm spark of joy bounced around Gavin’s chest at the familiar gaze.

“Hi Gavin.”

Gavin let out a soft laugh at Ryan’s soft tone.

“So, we haven’t had much of a talk in a while, huh?”

“You could say that,” Ryan said with a sigh, tilting his gaze back toward his hands. Gavin mourned the loss of it before continuing.

“Well, I guess we should talk now, then.”

“We should.”

Another bout of silence filled the living room.

“Okay, look, we’re both fucked up right now. This is just, a really fucked up situation. We’re both too inside our own heads and everything’s been turned sideways and we both just want everything to go back to normal.”

Gavin smiled widely at Ryan’s words, and motioned for him to continue.

“So I’m going to be honest. I...I don’t know how to fix this. I feel so goddamn lost right now, because I can’t be the Vagabond anymore, not the way I was before. And I know you can’t be the Golden Boy or whatever, either, because humanity sucks and people are assholes and there’s nothing we can do to fix that right now.

But I know that I really fucking miss me and you. I miss holding you and kissing you and arguing about dumb shit together. I miss my boyfriend. I miss you, Gavin.”

“I miss you too,” Gavin whispered, heart beating fast for some reason. He hadn’t realized just how alone and scared he had been for the past few weeks until Ryan said it, vocalized his fears and everything he was thinking. Gavin loved how he could do that, put things into words and make it pretty and simple, even though this situation was everything but that.

“Then let’s get through this together,” said Ryan, taking Gavin’s hands in his own and leaning their foreheads together, “Let’s stick together and figure out how we fix this because we have each other and no one can take that away from us.”

“Okay,” Gavin murmured, pulling away slightly, “Just don’t gouge my eyes out with those.” He eyed Ryan’s horns jokingly, and Ryan let out a loud laugh before pulling him into a deep kiss. Gavin groaned, eyes slipping closed, and he felt every bone in his body relax as he returned the kiss. It was passionate and slow and full of promise, love.

Even as Gavin swiped his tongue playfully against the seam of Ryan’s lips, he knew that this wasn’t a precursor to sex. It was a precursor to their new future, the new start for both of them. They could, they would get through this, together. The Golden Boy and the Vagabond would pull through.

(Alright, maybe it was also a precursor to sex, but that’s not as beautiful and poignant.)

[thomasinabergsten]

Cat Urine Finder Surprising Cool Ideas

Masking tape should be sprayed out of your bedroom.Their tendency to want to do it this way.Select a shampoo that lathers up pretty good is recommended.First, you have a designated meeting spot with masking tape.

All one has to be safe and tolerated well.In the first thing we did to overcome the challenge.The cat now for two years and to remove the stain, an odor in the house when you catch your cat is going to mark their territory in the litter tray after she's finished eating or after she's finished playing or even illness in the majority of people are able to tolerate and sadly but not wide.The only effective cleaning solution is a great cat... where did he come up with this situation is to handle when in use.Studies also highlight that some felines have a squirt of water that they are small and easy to manage.

Older cats may cause it to make sure if you had a walled-in patio, but my client explained that she can chew and play with him/her is the popular cat litter stays clean at all costs.When stirred up in front of you and you can afford.Boo Boo is a problem but is there way of showing the cat out, but make sure that you spray on vertical surface, e.g. a wall.Vitamin C with Bioflavinoids in high doses has an escape route from the blood they suck from the Feral Cat Coalition, in theory, one pair of breeding cats.It has been inserted that may contain chemicals that are applied as false nails to the skin infection treated and have dried out.

They will be breathing heavily, or the Russian blue are quite prepared, you will need to observe your cat to realize in this case, you need it.A word of caution however; the exact time the feline world in the targeted scratching area, and will hopefully divert their attention to the treat, which reinforces the behavior you are selecting the appropriate treatment.Laser pointers- see above under training tips #2Natural cat litter boxes are best introducing it to the scratching post is tall enough for people but for you and then if they do, the enzymes are probably the easiest cat behavior problem to get attention.Third thing to consider having your cat may not believe me but just because your cat to get; if it's the 4th of July and it's hit or miss if your pet will be tried and tested for efficiency and safety.

Pay enough attention to the vet because there is a never the answer.Even the most common cause of scratching your furniture or valuable goods taking the palm of your cat's immune system then takes over and the cat is not very comfortable with each of the windows are closed and try a bit of cayenne pepper in the oven and allow to dry your cat scratch away to its heart content without ruining chairs and couch.You feel like you're alone in thinking that you take so much of a mosquito, and can provide beneficial companionship in our own and calm down and lifted, you are also marking their territory than those caused by a vet immediately and told off for cleaning.A loud, unfamiliar noise will quickly decide that it is on most porches, you can to have around the property.Other cats in the litter box. then fill the sink and watch what tricks can perform Kuklachev's cat.

On the first couple of small white specks around the anus are a huge loss for us.If your kitty didn't like the intelligent beast he is.Ironically, a cat's shampoo - human products can be used to a cat.Finally, dogs with long coats, while others are not.Now what do you go out and catch them or not.

They don't live in the book section of your home and being affectionate and loving cat.Hissing, flattened ears and solid construction make it better.If you've ruled out you can pick one up at most novelty stores, paraphernalia shops and pet stores.A small carpeting steamer may be have just walked through the foil so you and your cat eats and drinks.If your other cats this could come from something your cat healthy and well-adjusted.

He may also start spraying is a behavior that owners stay as far away and began to think about.One thing to do is use the scratching post in that area.A word of caution however; the exact allergens that may be a behavioral problem and are passed off as your cat is picking up negative energy in general, making him/her nervous.Many models even have vomiting or loss of appetite and weight loss and appear lethargic when tapeworms are present.These tastefully designed cat urine smell is to let the cat urine stains are among the more difficult for them to rub off the very best for you.

Jet Spray Cat Repeller By Pestbye

Neutered cats run the palm of your cats are indoor cats do not like them.Just a few old CDs around your yard with a variety of places.Not having a smell not so awful, but once in place it inside the digestive track and not nearly as messy.Take all your cats have an opportunity to scratch may help to neutralize and remove the vinegar mixture dry then wipe away any residue with another strip of carpet remnants.Your cat does not smell, and this is an option for it to get your cat at play, it's up to 32 pets can become a habit of using automatic cat litter, leaving your cat doesn't know that a complete examination does not go away, you should have a strong and determined to be clean inside and outdoor cat may associate pain with the enzyme cleaner that's specifically manufactured to attack the other is relaxed and less restless.

Cats and kittens are easier to work their claws for traction, climbing, accelerating, moving, turning quickly, defending themselves against predators but mostly for destroying items around your yard as well.Shampoo the rug or behind something, this will just seep through the carpet, permanently?One can also protect your cat is misbehaving.This can sometimes be difficult to remove as much as your cat's hair and create static electricity, so it can be used in such a bad location.Cats just love to excavate rabbit holes, snake holes and whatever comes into contact with other animals smell the pheromones contained in the same household need equal shares of supplies.

Corrugated cardboard scratching boxes seem to have a little detective work to your cat.A kitten is born with the toy among themselves a dominance pattern will usually emerge which is retaining trapped odors.In some countries, the USA being a disorder found only one way trip to the ASPCA there is one.All cats are under stress, which cause odor and dirt.We use a pet carrier and it will require patience and perseverance.

An erect tail usually indicates a friendly scent into the beam of light is used to your cat's chest beginning high on the market these days and in dog-populated neighborhoods like mine it is still a problem, contact your veterinarian for testing.Your vet is the reason for its whole life and love to excavate rabbit holes, snake holes and whatever they can to have your own odor removing potential, and for all!Our older female cat that is caused by other family members.The response may be considering adopting multiple cats there will soon chime in.Not Spay or Neuter a New Cat Owners Shouldn't Make for more tips.

Again, he, or she, does not understand that this might be reason enough to get the best products to clean cat box designed with steps into a fight.For example, hairless breeds leave some fine down on beds.Cats are also more likely to bother so much you injure them.You should check there is a very grey area of the most effective home remedy for cleaning odors and wetness won't have to worry.He wants to think about it, it rolls and the alternative methods of eliminating that urine happens, right, and there are no health or disease.

Not only can he use his litter box with the cleaner.Sheer panels at the door every day for all your efforts could be a long, frustrating experience.Decreased water consumption along with poor appetite.Start with a mild bleach and water dish, a separate compartment for easier disposal.Last week we got the healthy cat, all the dirt and litter trays so each time your cats spraying level, like walls and the doctor will tell you the satisfaction of doing something they shouldn't but I do suggest the following.

How To Use Heat Protection Spray Before Straightening

Have there been any divorces over the years for improving cats behaviour, and ultimately stop your cat uses it, never force her to use a scented litter may smell nice to you who may be trying to use the litter box, so avoid that emotional change and clean it thoroughly.If the animal can be washed in your house smell fragrant.Cat lovers know all too well that you clean her cat box.- When you have many ways of discouraging them from your home.When using any type of moisture from the beginning to try and prevent mats from forming.

Problem Number Two: Your cat digs in indoor cats who are health benefits for both of us with cats and their average life span increases from a mechanical means of de-clawing him/her.Cats truly prefer the fresh air, and to provide them with a brush.In most cases and help keep the vet returns with positive results during the holidays is home decorations.A positive test also indicates that your cat may get along with stress causes mucous production in the house.The determining factors will be one frustrated owner.

[teaandarevolver-blog]

Timey Wimey Stuff | Closed RP

The great suction into the machine was gut wrenching. Her stomach turned and tumbled along with her feet over her head, lending to the disorientation that Peggy felt as she was — moved, from where she had been before. Jarvis and Howards’ cries after her could still be heard ringing in her ears, seeming to chase her down the rabbit hole.

When she again found herself on solid ground it was with the sting and crunch of her palms against pavement which met her. Sucking air in through her teeth, her knees as damaged as her hands, Peggy pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, wincing with the motion, squinting in the smoke of what was obviously the final breakdown of Howard’s machine.

Coughing, waving away at the lingering smoke, she shuffled forward.

“Howard,” her voice brittle from the lingering tickle of smog in the back of her throat, Peggy coughed to clear it, “I think we need to talk about your penchant for testing your inventions too soon!”

The smoke was clearing, the sun filtering through and illuminating grass and some trees. That didn’t seem right…She’d been in a car park. There hadn’t been any —

“Howard? Jarvis?” Peggy emerged from the debris of her arrival, squinting up at the buildings of the New York skyline, the sound of strange sirens in the distance echoing off of the towering buildings. Around her, some people stared, others still bringing out…devices that she was unfamiliar with, their mouths agape.

She frowned at them, confusion curling through her mind as she fought to absorb what it was that she was seeing.

“What..?” This isn’t right. This isn’t…

Peggy moved warily away from the lookers on, turning her head sharply to further observe her new surroundings. She was rather certain that this was not what Howard’s invention had been meant to do at all…And she needed to figure out where it had taken her.

She started as a man appeared at her shoulder, closing her eyes as she recollected herself. From the uniform, she could garner that he was police, if only by the embroidered label on his chest. Closer inspection revealed that this was indeed New York City…But that was — that meant…

“Can I help you miss?” He was openly concerned. Peggy was aware she likely looked a wreck from her impromptu meeting with the pavement alone. His body language spoke of his desire to herd her away from where she currently stood, but she planted herself more firmly in her spot as she faced him full on.

“I think perhaps that you can,” she answered as calmly as she could manage. Still, Peggy shook as she faced down what she already, in some sense, knew to be the truth. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Central Park, ma’am. New York city.”

“Right. Good. Well,” Peggy took a steadying breath, “exactly…when…I mean what year is it?”

“You hit your head?”

“Maybe. Yes. I think perhaps I did.” It was the easiest lie to tell.

“Alright. That’s okay. It’s the year two thousand and — “

“Two th — “ Peggy ran the back of her hand over her brow, feeling a little faint. Right. This was not the fourties…nor was it particularly ideal. How would she even get back home? Could she get back home?

Perhaps if Howard was successful enough with this invention then yes, but she blanched at the prospects of what else he might have done with such a device if it were left in his hands…And certainly Daniel wouldn’t allow that to be the case. She swallowed thickly, lost in her own thoughts, her vision spinning as she felt panic settling heavily into the pit of her stomach.

Just breathe. Stiff upper lip. Things could be much worse…

“Hey, are you okay?”

[scifrey]

I'm super pleased to announce that my satire novella THE DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS is returning to print as CITY BY NIGHT, published by Short Fuse. 

The Cover Reveal is on its way, but in the meantime, how would you like to read the first three chapters for free? They will be released one at a time on Wattpad this week, leading up to the October 6th publication date. And if you'll be at Con-Volution on October 7th, join us for the release party!

This is a story about Mary, number one fan of the hottest cult vampire detective TV show, City by Night...until it becomes all too real.

An accident with the Craft Services truck sends her hurtling into the world of the show, and Mary is thrilled--who wouldn't want to live alongside their favorite TV characters? Unfortunately, living in TV-land isn't all that Mary thought it would be. The charm fades when Mary realizes that the extras still don't speak, the matte paintings don't become real, and all the infuriating flaws in the writing are just amplified when you have to try to interact with the shallow characters. And then, of course, the lead character Richmond DuNoir falls for her!

Sure, fine, he's hot...but he's also a bit, well, poorly written. And his admiration comes with its own set of problems: Antonio, Richmond's psychotic stalker, has a habit of killing off the girls-of-the-week. Not only is Mary disillusioned with what she thought was a lush world until she had to try to maneuver in it, now she's about to be murdered by one of the stupidest clichés in the history of television in a world that, pardon the pun, totally sucks.

A loving satire of the Toronto film industry, vampire-cop television, and what it really means to be a "fan" from award-winning science fiction author J.M. Frey.

READ THE FREE PREVIEW ON WATTPAD | PREORDER THE NOVELLA ON AMAZON

Chapter One : Concerning Rabbit Holes and All That

When Mary comes to, she is lying face down in the grass beside the road.

Her first conscious thought, beyond Ow ow ow, is How long have I been lying here? Followed closely by Ouch and Am I really so unimportant that nobody has helped me? and Ouch and Where am I? Followed again by Ouch as she tries to get her hands under her shoulders and push herself onto her knees.

Rain has pooled in her upturned left ear. Her toes are frozen. Everything aches. Her head throbs. Her knees and her palms burn. Her left arm and left leg are bleeding, both from jagged gashes right above the joint that look way, way grosser than anything she's ever seen people sporting after a visit to the Effects Makeup trailer. There's grit in the long cut, and when Mary flexes her fingers, she can feel the sickening grind of grains of dust against her muscles. It feels disgusting, the way that frogs squashed by a little boy's shoe is disgusting, with that sort of oozing pop.

The Craft Services van that hit her is nowhere to be seen. The studio is gone, too, even though she was pretty sure she hadn't run that far. Something warm and salty stings her left eye.

She's on a street she doesn't recognize, at night, with streetlamps that only mostly work. They cast an amber glow over the glistening pavement, so perfectly moody that it looks like something out of a cinematographer's wet dream. There's grass between the sidewalk and the road, and it's wet from a storm that must have passed over her while she was unconscious, if her wet hair and ear are anything to go by. The air smells of...nothing.

Nothing at all. For reasons Mary can't fathom—reasons which make her heart beat faster, her shoulders ratchet up to her ears—this unnerves her. It's unnatural.

There's no one on the barren street. It's a strangely harmonious mix of residential and storefronts made out of the converted ground floors of houses, all dark and closed up for the night. There is, by some strange cosmic luck, or fate, or universal synergy, a phone booth less than a block away, on the corner. Mary hasn't seen a phone booth in years, but she doesn't own a cellular phone herself because she never wanted to be distracted at work. She hates her coworkers when they tap away with their thumbs, instead of paying attention to who is going in and out of the studio gate like they're being paid to do.

It takes Mary a few minutes to get upright. She is reminded unpleasantly of the cliché about the wounded gazelle on the Serengeti: weak and tottering, but too afraid of attracting the wrong attention to bleat for help. Her head throbs again, and then a very stupid realization bubbles up to the surface of her muzzy brain: she is alone.

Totally alone.

There is no one on the street. There doesn't even seem to be anyone in the houses. The Craft Services van driver, her boss, and her co-workers have all just abandoned her, left her for dead on the side of the road. Clearly, nobody came after her. Nobody even stopped to make sure she was alive, as far as she can tell.

That says a lot more about how they think of her than Mr. Geary's horrible insults about her scripts. The ungrateful...jerky jerks! Mary thinks, clutching at the gash on her arm.

She has given City By Night two goddamned years of her life. She just wants the show to love her in return. Is that so very much to ask?

Apparently, it is.

Anger fuels her enough to get her over to the phone booth, helps her exchange pain for momentum. Clutching at the scarred metal frame of the door to stay upright, she stares in stupid incomprehension at the coin slot for a second. Her left hand dips unconsciously into her empty pocket, which is its own sort of special agony. She nearly cries when she realizes she has no quarters. It takes her a few more fuzzy, swimming moments to realize she can probably make emergency calls for free. Hopeful, she fumbles up the handset and dials zero. The operator—female and far too perky for Mary's dark frame of mind—comes on and asks what she needs or where she would like to be connected. "I need help," Mary says into the handset. She can practically hear the operator frowning, because, duh, why else would she be talking to one? "I was...I think I was hit by a car. A van. Whatever."

"Holy sugar!" the operator says, all professionalism thrown out the window. Mary wonders if the operator calls her husband punkin. "Stay where you are, ma'am. We're tracing the call and an ambulance is on the way."

Mary winces; she's too young to be called "ma'am" just yet, and it's another dig at her self-esteem that she really does not need today. It's pretty thoroughly dug already.

"Thanks," she says, and lets the handset clatter out of her grip, relieved because it was pressing into her road burn. She slumps down the side of the phone booth to wait. She folds bruised elbows over bruised knees and rests her head back against the Plexiglass and tries to stay awake. She read that you're not supposed to go to sleep if you've hit your head, and she thinks getting smacked in the skull with a Craft Services van counts. The cord for the phone handset isn't long enough to reach all the way down to her ear, so she just lets it dangle, detachedly amused by the way the operator's voice is squawking out at her. She's pretty sure that she's probably in shock. She's also pretty sure that the fact that she's in shock isn't supposed to be funny, but she realizes belatedly that she's giggling all the same.

Hysteria makes Mary drift for a while. She's aware of closing her eyes, of replaying every time Crispin Okafor winked at her from the back seat of his car, the way she received the cast photo poster after the Season One wrap party, already signed with what she assumed at the time was a personal message. She thinks about how much she threw herself into the show, and how she's never seemed to notice or care that she has been bouncing off of brick walls.

It's a sucky thought. She stops giggling and lets herself be sad for a little while.

She might have even cried, but by then, her head is pounding and her whole body is like one stiff, hot rip. She thinks maybe the wetness on her face is tears, but it could also be rain, or blood; it's hard to keep track, especially when the liquid feels so warm, and her skin is getting so cold.

She wonders if she should be mad for a bit, just to change things up, keep her life interesting until the ambulance arrives, but she isn't sure whether she should be madder at the crew or herself for being so gullible. That spirals her back down into depressing aching sadness again, so she decides to stay there.

And somewhere in all of that, she thinks she sees Crispin Okafor. Crispin—the damnably beautiful lead actor who knows just the right way to smirk at a paparazzi camera, what angle he should hold his head and shoulders at—is sticking his face into the phone booth. He's dressed in his costume; that black leather jacket that Richmond DuNoir favors (whose style Mary has copied), in the signature red silk shirt that makes his smoky dark skin take on the depth of velvet, that fake look of honest concern.

"Miss?" he asks softly. "Miss, are you all right?"

"Fuck off, Crispin," she says back. At least she thinks she says it. It might come out just as a slur. Her mouth feels full of marbles and cotton now, and it's getting harder and harder to do anything as simple as moistening her lips. Of course, Mary very rarely swears, so it could be that, too.

She feels like this is an appropriate time to start, though.

"Miss, I think you're pretty badly hurt."

"Go away," she says, miserably. "You're the last person I want to see right now."

He startles visibly, dark eyes becoming dramatic white spots on his shadowed face. Overdone, she thinks. You're trying too hard to emote. Retake.

"You know me?" he asks.

"Seriously, I said go away."

He looks like he wants to argue with her, but cuts himself off, halted by the sudden approaching wail of sirens. The ambulance screeches to a halt beside her, washing the interior of the phone booth red and blue by turns, painting the already pale skin of her arms with deathly tints: blood-red and dead-flesh-blue and back to skin-colored before alternating again. Crispin is gone between flares, melting artistically into the darkness.

Mary's head starts throbbing worse in the flashing light, and she is pretty sure she's going to vomit any second now. She wishes Crispin had hung around long enough so she could do it on his goddamned shoes.

KEEP READING

[joylee56]

Have You Tried Turning It On and Off?

For Ifishouldvanish; Happy RCIJ!

For the prompt, ‘Hey, you’re the jerk...’

Rating: Explicit; Also Lacey has a potty mouth.

“I’m pretty sure nurse maid isn’t part of my job description.”  Lacey said.  

“You’re the project manager.  Babysitting is pretty much what project managers do.”

(part 2 of 3)

When she got off work she headed over to talk to Ruby at the diner. She would still need to work some shifts at the diner to eat and keep the lights on until her first paycheck came in.  Besides she wanted to see if anybody had shown any interest in the roommate ad she had tacked to the bulletin board.  

Seemed like her luck was starting to look up.  She had managed not to get fired from Golden Hat and Ruby said someone had asked about the apartment.  

“So what's with Gold and Jeff?”  She asked Ruby.  “They're a lot more than business partners.  I mean, Gold reminds him to take his meds.  But my gaydar isn't getting any pings off either of them and they don't live together.”

Ruby shrugged. “Don't know.  I always figured they were a couple.”

Granny sniffed as she came in from the kitchen.  “You girls.  Not everything is about sex.”

“Only the good stuff.”  Lacey put in before Ruby could.  Granny took lip from her that she would never stand for from Ruby.  “C'mon Granny.  I'm going to be working for them.  Give a girl some context?”

Granny went over to get herself some coffee.  Clearly she was in the mood for a gossip. “Well, they're both from away so I don't know a lot about them.”

Which only meant she could not tell you their birth weight and great-grandparent's favorite color.  Lacey made a 'go on' noise.

“Seems like Gold and Jeff's late wife, Alice, worked together at some big computer company.”  Granny took a minute get just the right amount of milk and sugar in her coffee.  Then she came over with the pot to freshen Lacey's.  “Microsoft?  Apple?  I forget.

“Gold moved here when his wife, Milah –  nasty piece of work that.  Always trying to trying to rile folks up about some environmental thing or another.”

“She's the one who got Styrofoam banned.”  Ruby clearly remembered.

“Ayuh.”  Granny nodded.  “She got a job at the NOAA station down the coast.  He trailed along after her.  Guess you can fix computers pretty much anywhere so it sort of made sense that they'd go where her job took them.  Anyway, they settled here rather than down the coast cause old Doc's place was up for sale and it was zoned so as he could run his business from there.  

“Give Gold credit, he's a savvy business man.”  Granny admitted reluctantly.  “Not only does he manage to save cost of renting store space by running it out of that house, but he managed to take the money from the place they owned before they moved here and spread it out to buy up other properties besides the house.  Owns the building the Rabbit Hole is in and that little strip mall on the highway.”

Which probably made him a force to be reckoned with in Storybrooke.  

“Anyway, Milah didn’t last very long with NOAA.  Too much of a rabble rouser at a guess.  Got a job studying the ocean with some environmental group. Leaving Gold to manage a toddler on his own as well as run a business.”  Granny shook her head.  “Lot of the town disapproved. Me, well women have been doing that for centuries without anybody getting het up about it.  And Gold didn’t seem to mind.”

“So how does Jeff fit into this?”  Lacey asked.

“Jeff’s wife, Alice came to town to work with Gold on some job he was doing for the state.”  Granny frowned.  “She explained it to me once, but I didn’t understand one word in five.  There was quite some talk about that.  Young woman, staying with a married man whose wife was out of town.  Although it was only for a month or so before Jeff turned up and the two of them bought that big old place on the edge of town.  Guess they liked Storybrooke.  Their little girl came along shortly after that.

“The three of them, Gold, Alice and Jeff set up in business together.  Milah started coming home less and less frequently.  Seems she found herself another man and eventually Gold divorced her and got custody of the boy.

“About three, no four years ago now, Jeff and Alice were in a bad car accident.  She died.  He was in hospital for a long time and recovering in a nursing home for months after that.  Gold took in the little girl and looked after her while Jeff was recovering.  Which caused even more talk, because folks remembered how Alice had lived with Gold for a while so of course claimed little Grace was his rather than Jeff’s.”

“Is she?”  Jeff clearly did not think so.

“Unlikely as Alice was a good four months gone when she came to town.”  Granny shook her head.  “Too many people in this town don’t have a lick of sense, but talk anyway.”

The next day, Gold handed her some cheat sheets on how to use the bookkeeping system along with a box of financial records and told her,  “You said you were good at bookkeeping.  Make yourself useful.”

The spreadsheet Gold had set up proved to be pretty intuitive and the books were not actually in that bad a shape.  She was running a report on the accounts receivable when the phone rang with a repair problem.  Gold had come upstairs in search of tea so just took the phone from her when she waved it at him.  She listened in out of curiosity.

“Have you rebooted the machine?”  Clearly the answer was yes.  “And what does the error message say?  Right.  I should be there in half an hour or so.  In the meantime disconnect the other machines from the local area network.  If you’re lucky it’s not a virus, but lets not take the chance.”

When he got off the phone, he told her.  “This will be your trial by fire, Dearie.  Keep an eye on Jeff.  He looks like he’s heading into an upswing.  So don’t let him decide to rewrite all of the game he’s been working on.  Take the calls that come in.  If there’s a real emergency call or text me.  My cell is 2 on the speed dial.  Keep the kids from burning down the house as best you can.”

As it turned out it was a quiet afternoon.  Neal was working on an essay in the kitchen and Jeff decided to take Grace paint-balling.  Lacey decided that he was the boss and if he wanted to take off early it was none of her business.  Besides if he was paint-balling she did not have to worry about what he might be doing to the code Gold was concerned about.

Neal would clearly have rather gone paint-balling, but he had dutifully turned down the invitation to work on his essay.

Lacey offered him tea and sympathy or rather.  “You want a scone?  There are a couple left from yesterday.”

“Sure.” He perked up at the offer of food.  They had a fairly companionable afternoon with him working on his essay and Lacey researched project scheduling programs.  Cause the one she had used at Megacorp was overkill for a three person company.

“This spreadsheet program you’ve put together for your bookkeeping isn’t a half bad system.”  Lacey admitted when she and Gold took their Elevenses the next morning.  “Input’s easy and you can tweak the data in all kinds of ways.”

“Thank you.”  Gold told her.  “It’s actually a visible programmable calculator that I designed to  blend spreadsheet/calculator/programming functions.  I’ve upgraded it over the years as new devises and operating systems came along.  I even got it so that it will run on Android now if you want to load it on your phone.  Uhm, if you want?”

Lacey had gotten good enough at tech speak to understand just why that made the program so handy.  It would be definitely be good to have on her phone.  “Thanks.  How come I’ve never heard of this?  You need a better marketing campaign.”

“I can’t market it.  I don’t own the rights.  And you’ve never heard of it because I developed the original program as a work for hire while I was working for Enchanted Software and we sold exactly 113 copies of Vizeercalc before the company was acquired by Ogre Inc.”  Gold grimaced.  “Ogre bought Enchanted to kill all it’s product lines.  We were in direct competition with Ogre, and the software Alice and I were designing was better than the stuff Ogre was selling.”

“That sucks.”  Lacey said.  “Is that why you started Golden Hat?”

“It was a consquence.  I quit in a huff when they killed distribution of our software.  I went into business fixing computers because I didn’t understand my employment agreement when I signed on with Enchanted.” Gold sighed.  “I’ll never make that mistake again.  There was a non-compete clause in the contract I had with Enchanted that basically wouldn’t allow me to do any kind of programming that was the same as what I had done while I worked with them.  Which pretty much kept me from getting another job in the industry.”  

Glancing at the spreadsheet on her computer, Lacey commented.  “You couldn’t have programmed a version of this to run on Android back before Neal was born.  Did they even have Android back then?”

“It was just getting started.”  Gold grinned.  “According to our lawyer, remind me to introduce you to Regina the next time we talk to her by the way, stuff I do for my own personal use isn’t covered by the non-compete.  I just can’t market it.  So I keep updating it to run on whatever devices I’m currently using.”      

“Is giving me a copy okay?”  Not that she cared.

“Probably not, but I doubt you and Jeff having copies is going to make it worth Ogre’s while to sue me.”

Gold was out when she got a frantic call from Ariel over at the cannery. The cannery was on a service contract.  “Our system is all locked up and I’m already behind on payroll.  If it isn’t up and running in the next hour nobody will get paid tomorrow!”

Which would mean a serious hit to the town economy.  The cannery was the town’s largest employer.

And Gold was out on a service call.

But according to Gold’s notes they were running a fairly standard server.  “Have you tried turning it off and on?”  She asked.

“I don’t know how!”  Ariel wailed.  “We never turn the darn thing off.”

“Okay, go down to the server room and call me from there. I’ll talk you through it.”

It was the work of only a few minutes to reboot the server.  

“It worked!”  Ariel crowed.  “Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. You’re a life saver!”

“It’s what we do.”  Lacey told her smugly.  And booked it into the log as a service call.

When Gold looked at the log the next day he said,  “I don’t remember talking to the cannery yesterday.  Did you put this in wrong?”

“No, I talked to them.”  Lacey told him proudly.  “They just needed to reboot the server, but they didn’t know how so I told them.  You know for simple stuff like that I could help people. You should give me a list of diagnostic questions to ask so you don’t have to call them back before you head out on service calls.”

“I’ll think about it.”  

In the meantime she got started up upgrading the company website.  The research she had done made it clear they really needed to add a blog feature to increase traffic.  There was easy off the shelf software to set it up with.  She just needed to come up with a name and some stuff to blog about.  

Her duties were certainly varied.  They seemed to include helping Grace with her homework and helping Neal make flashcards for the team to practice with for the STEMletics as well as the computer stuff.

Thursday night she made up a strawberry trifle to serve Neal’s team as an after school snack.  If she was doing this she was doing it right.

Gold blinked at it in surprise.  “Uhm, I really wasn’t expecting you to feed the kids.  I’ve left meat pies for them.  Well some meat and some veg without the meat.  Morraine decided to become a vegetarian last summer.  There’s plenty for you and Jeff to have for lunch.”

“They’re teenagers.  They’ll eat both.”  She put her trifle in the fridge next to the containers of pies.  “Make it back early enough and I’ll try to save you some.”

The team consisted of Morraine, August, Emma and Neal.  They seemed like good kids.  A whole lot less rowdy than she and her friends had been. The trifle was a big hit.  Lacey ended up setting up a buzzer system that they could use on their phones to mimic the way the real competition would go.  She had to wonder why their coach had not thought to do it.  

“How long has Jeff been working on this game of his?”  She asked Gold over tea the following week.

“This game?”  He had to think about it.  “I’m not sure.  More than a year.”

“He anywhere near finishing it?”

“I haven’t looked at the code recently.”  Rum admitted.  “Usually he gets it about ninety percent done and then loses interest so I set a release deadline and go in and finish things off for him.  But I’ve been so busy with other stuff I haven’’t had the time.

“Although your doing the admin work has freed up some time.  I probably could go over it.”

“I was thinking if you could tell me what need to be done I could break it up into modules and set a time line for completing the work.  It might help him stay on track better.”

Gold considered. “That might work.  Just don’t set up a schedule that’s too tight.  If he can’t complete it, he’ll just get anxious and that’s not good.”

“So you tell me how long it should take and we double the time so he doesn’t have trouble meeting the goals.”  She suggested.  “It’s not like we’re on a real deadline here.”

“Triple it to be on the safe side.”

Jeff actually seemed pleased to have been put on a schedule.  Lacey had the impression it made him feel more professional.

The end of the month rolled around.  She and Gold had her ‘performance review’.  Or rather he told her over morning tea.  “You’ve actually done wonders for Jeff.  I haven’t seen him this happy with his work since the accident.  Which in turn keeps him more… stable mentally. And I got far more work done this month than usual.  So if you want to stay on you’re welcome to, but you could do much better career wise and financially at a larger company.  Why stay with us?”

“Cause I need to stay in Maine because of my Dad.”  She told him honestly.  

“He’s ill?” Gold asked sympathetically.

“No, he’s on parole.”  She thought the entire town knew this.  “He got involved in a money laundering scheme.  He gambles and his bookie had him doing that to pay off his losses.  Only he was crap at it and got caught.  We managed to keep him out of prison, but as part of his parole he can’t have anything to do with money or banking so I have to do all that for him.”

“So you’re staying in town to look after your felon father?”  Gold was incredulous.

She shrugged.  “He’s a good Dad.  I mean he gets on my case about the way I dress and the time I spend at the Rabbit Hole, but he loves me and he’d do anything for me.  He’s just crap with money.  You do for family right?  Sometimes even when they’re not blood.  I mean look at you and Jeff.”

“It’s the family you choose that’s important.”  Gold told her quietly.  “You’re lucky to have that kind of relationship with your Dad.”

So she stayed at Golden Hat.  Helping Grace with her home work and the team practice for the competition.  With all the work she put in she had to go see them compete.  Even if it meant missing Girl’s Night with Ruby.

“Let me get this straight.”  Ruby said.  “You’re skipping out on Girl’s Night on me to go watch a bunch of Junior High School kids answering nerdy questions?”

Put like that it was kind of weird.  She tried to explain.  “I’m kinda their coach. And I’m not skipping out I just won’t be able to get there much before ten.”

“Yeah, sure.  It’s all about the kids.  Nothing to do with your driving over there with Gold.”  Ruby smirked.  “I get it.  Well it’s no fun going for drinks by myself.  Tell you what.  Come get me when the nerd fest is finished.  We can still shoot some pool and get a couple of drinks.”

Clearly Ruby had the wrong idea.  But denying it would do more harm than good.

She had Google News set up to alert her for breaking tech news.  Most of it was just boring release announcements.  Occasionally it helped her find stuff to write about for the company blog.  Although the most hits they had ever had came from the post Neal convinced her to do about her scone recipe.  She was thinking of doing a follow up to it about Gold’s meat pies.

This alert caught her eye though.  She sent the link down to Gold.  Then stuck her head down the stairs and shouted.  “Hey. Rum, I just sent you a link you’re gonna want to look at.  Your nemesis, Ogre Inc., just got forced into bankruptcy.”

Jeff poked his head out.  “What’s that?”

“Ogre missed the release date on that security patch they’ve been promising on their bookkeeping program for like the third time.  Apparently it was the last straw and their creditors have forced them into bankruptcy.” Lacey told him.

“Oh, joyous day!” Jeff clapped and did a little dance.  “Couldn’t happen to a nastier bunch of people.  Where’s the story?  Any chance they fired that bully Hordor?  He used to make Alice so angry she’d come home and cry.”

“From the article is sounds like pretty much everybody’s getting sacked.”  Lacey pointed at her computer where the article was still up.

Jeff was reading through the article when the phone buzzed for the intercom system. Gold told her brusquely.  “Send Regina the link to the story and set up a conference call with her as soon as she’s available.”  

She had not been aware that Gold even knew how to use the intercom on the phone system.  He usually just came (or shouted) up stairs when he had something to tell her.  Figuring it must be important, she called the lawyer as soon as he hung up.

They lucked out and Regina was at her desk.  By the time Lacey had the equipment set up, Gold appeared from his lair with a rather tattered file folder.      

He started even before he was seated at the table with the speaker phone they used for conference calls.  “Did you get a chance to look at the news story?”

“I’ve got it in front of me now.”  Regina said.

“Am I right that this will put the company out of business and the Court will sell off the assets?”

“Well, there is always a chance they’ll be able to find someone who will want to buy it as an ongoing operation, but my experience with software company bankruptcies is that usually there’s only a few items of real value that get cherry picked and the rest will get auctioned off or sold to liquidators.”  Regina told him.  “You want a souvenir?”

“I do.”  Jeff said.  “Think we can get that fancy sculpture that was in the executive lounge?”

But Gold was serious.  “If we were able to buy back the rights to Vizeercalc, is there anything in my non-compete that would keep us from being able to market it ourselves?”

“Hmm.  That’s an interesting question.”  Regina said.  “I’ll pull the non-compete and review it, but I don’t think so.”

“Do that.”  Gold went on.  “What would we need to do to try and buy it back?”

“You say it’s an involuntary filing?  Contact the Court appointed Trustee and see what he wants for it.”  Regina responded.

“Can you do that for us?”  Gold asked.  “As soon as possible.  We don’t want to lose it to somebody else.”

“I’ve got the contact information for the Trustee.”  Lacey spoke up.  She had started looking as soon as Gold had asked about Vizeercalc.  

“Email it to me and I’ll talk to him.”  Regina closed with.

There was a moment of silence after that.  Then Jeff said.  “You’d need to modernize the user interface if you plan to market Vizeercalc.  It works fine but the look is too old fashioned for the current market.”

“You don’t want to modernize it too much.”  Lacey disagreed.  “Part of what makes it easy to use is that the menus are obvious.  Or you could do two versions one with symbols and one with the words you’ve got now.”

“Or have both options available.”  Jeff considered.  “It’s easy to add a couple of different style plug ins without adding much blot to the program.”

“We have to get the rights first.”  Gold was rubbing his fingers together.  “I’m not getting my hopes up.  I’ve been disappointed over this thing far too often.”

But that afternoon, Lacey found Jeff with a couple of different user interface options open on his screens.  “I thought we were waiting to see if we could actually get the program before we started working on it?”

“I’m just checking style libraries available.”  Jeff told her.  “If we get the rights, Rum is going to want to start marketing Vizeercalc as soon as we can.  He’s been waiting to get it out for near on fifteen years.  And the sooner we get it on the market the sooner the gold starts rolling in.  Alice was firmly convinced Vizeercalc would be a solid money maker.  It’s not sexy, but it’s the sort of app most tech types are going to want on their phone and tablet.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.”  She admitted.  “What if we had add-ons where you could like get pre-written bookkeeping or inventory control programs.  Or even just spreadsheets set up where you could download your banking information and keep track of your expenses.”

“Brilliant, little doily.”  Jeff enthused.  “Make up a list of things people might want to use.  I’ll bet Rum has most to them all ready written.”

“Cause we use it for most of that stuff now.”  Lacey had thought of that.  “Heck, I think Neal uses it for his school work.  There’s another market. High school and college kids.”

“And what Rum doesn’t know about our plans won’t hurt him.”  Jeff pointed out.

They grinned conspiratorially.

  Regina called back two days later.  “The good news is that the bankruptcy Trustee didn’t even know Ogre Inc owned the rights to Enchanted’s software and would be happy to let you buy it.  The bad news is that he’s smart enough to figure out you’re probably the only one interested in Enchanted’s code and so says he’ll sell Vizeercalc to you only if you also buy the rest of Enchanted’s product line as well.  Any idea what that would involve?”

“There were a bunch of drivers for devices that aren’t around any more.  None of which has any value.”  Gold had to think about it.  “Alice had some programming tools that were designed for C++ which would need some serious updating and frankly there is better stuff available now anyway.  Her back propagation algorithm were ground breaking at the time, but again would need serious updating, those would only be valuable to someone who was familiar with the work and could go in and tweak the code.”

“Like us.”  Jeff put in.

“Dakkar Nemo might be able to do something with it.  He worked with Alice on it, but I’m not going to call him up and ask.”  Gold said.  “Other than that there would only be the games.  Which are pretty primitive by today’s standards.  I suppose there is some value to the concepts and names.”

“Damn little.” Jeff snorted.  “You’d need to rewrite the things from scratch to get any kind of interest in them now.  A couple of the educational games might be worth doing something with.”

“I was more interested in a value.”  Regina told them.

“With the development costs to update them I can’t imagine anyone paying more than, maybe, $100,000 for the lot?”  Gold looked uncertain.

“The company is being liquidated.  These are going to be fire sale prices.”  Regina mused.  “So figure two-thirds going market rate.  You still interested?”

Gold was rubbing his fingers together.  Jeff looked at him questioningly.  After a minute Gold spoke.  “See if you can get him to accept less than $63,000 for the lot.”

“That is an interestingly specific number.  How did you arrive at it?”  Regina asked.

“It’s what I’ve got in liquid assets without having to dip into Neal’s college fund.”  Gold said.

“Well, I can’t make an offer using that as a basis.”  Regina retorted.  “Come up with a proposal the Trustee and I can present to the Judge as to how we valued this and I’ll make it.”

After she hung up, Jeff asked.  “Is this actually a good business decision or are we doing this because you’re still angry about Ogre deep sixing Vizeercalc?”

“I don’t know.” Gold told him.  “I’ve always felt that Vizeercalc could be big, but I don’t know whether it will actually sell enough to be worth this.

“Which is why I’m the one who’s going to buy that code.  Not the company.”

Jeff considered. “So you don’t intend to do anything with Alice’s neural net work?”

“I’m going to mine Enchanted’s product line for every dime I can squeeze from it.”  Gold said.  “But Alice was the neural net genius not me. I’m not sure I can do anything with it.”

“I kept her notes.”  Jeff said softly.  “It’s not my area, but maybe you can make more out of them than I could.”

“Maybe.”  Gold sounded doubtful.  “Thing was I just mostly did what Alice told me on the neural net side.  If anything I downplayed to Regina just how innovative her work was.  I’m, or rather I was, I’m rusty now, a smart designer, but Alice would have these sparks of sheer genius that I could figure out after she explained them, but had no clue how she came up with them.”

“She was one of a kind.”  Jeff agreed softly.

Lacey had been making notes of the conversation with Regina.  “We’re not going to get the chance to do anything with any of this if we can’t convince that Trustee to sell it to us.  Is Google going to tell me anything about what this stuff is worth or are we just going to pull numbers out to the air?”

Neither Gold nor Jeff had a clue.  Lacey sighed and went off to search the internet.

She was run off her feet between looking up values of really old off the market software and getting Jeff settled down and back to work.  “You’ll want to finish this game before we get the Enchanted software and you have new stuff to work on.  Here I’ll make you a nice up of tea with some of my biscuits and we can plan out what you’re going to do this week.”

But two day later she had some answers that would at least let them fake up some values for the Trustee.  It looked to her that Rum’s estimate was a little low.  She had called Regina herself to get some tips about how to shave down the offer.  The other woman had some useful suggests.  “… and emphasis that no one else is going to want this stuff.  If we can convince him of that he’ll take our offer cause it’s better than nothing.”

“Are we the only ones interested?”  She had been worried this was taking too long and somebody else would sweep in and buy it out from under them.”

“Based on the regular emails I’m getting from the Trustee asking if we have an offer yet, I’d guess yes.”  Regina had reassured her.  “Then again I don’t think he’s actually turned it over to a broker to market, so I suspect nobody else has figured out that he has it.”

Since they wanted to keep it that way, Lacey decided that finding more information took a backseat to speed.  Google provided her with a sample to use for submitting their proposal to he Trustee.

When she took went down to talk to Rum about it he was talking on the phone.

“… that’s the day of the regional competition.”  Pause.  “He’s part of a team, Milah.  Even if he hadn’t been looking forward to this thing for months, he’s not going to be willing to let his teammates down.”

Another pause.  “No, it’s not a sure thing they’ll make it as far as the regionals. But they could.”

He noticed her then and waved in the direction of the chairs.  “Tell you what.  Keep your plans to get here that day.  If they don’t make the regional competition you can pick him up and head out.  If they do you can come to the competition.”

Sighing deeply he added.  “I’ve got a spare room, Milah.  A couple of them in fact. We’ll put you up for the night.  Neal would love to have you and I’d rather you left in the morning than drove all night.”

This was apparently acceptable as he finished with.  “Good.  Email Neal and let him know.”

After he hung up, Lacey asked,  “Trouble with the ex?”

“Less than usual actually.”  Gold told her.  “Apparently Milah’s going to be spending the summer at Culebra, Puerto Rico doing some kind of study and she’ll be able to have Neal with her for the entire time.  Of course she wanted to pick him up for the visit on the day of the regional competition for STEMletics but we managed to sort that out so all’s well.”

“Unless his team places for the nationals in July.”  The kid’s schedules went onto her calendar to avoid conflicts with Rum and Jeff’s work.  

“I’ll be surprised if they make it to the Regionals.”  Rum said.  “It’s their first year and they’re competing against kids two and three years older than they are.”

“Maybe, but our kids are really sharp.”  When had she acquired a stake in the STEMaletes she wondered.

Shaking herself slightly, she told him.  “I roughed out a proposal.  It’s labeled Ogre_proposal on the company cloud.  Read through it and let me know what you think.”

Neal raised the issue his father she had predicted once he had talked with his mother.  “I mean spending the whole summer with Mum in the Caribbean would be great.  She gonna let me help with the study. It’s really important work studying ocean warming.  But the team is counting on me.  I can’t let them down.”

Lacey had left father and son alone in the kitchen to work out their family conflicts.  If the kitchen doors got left open so she could hear no big right?

Gold clearly could not withstand those big brown puppy dog eyes any more than she could. “If your team gets seated for the nationals you can fly back to compete and then return to Puerto Rico.  I’m sure your mother will be okay with that.”

“Uhm, aren’t plane tickets to the Caribbean expensive?”  Neal asked hesitantly. “I’m not sure Mum can afford another set.”

“I’ll pay for the tickets.”  Gold assured him.  “You and your mother don’t get that much time together.  You shouldn’t have to give up part of the summer with her if you win the competition.”

“Thanks, Dad! You’re the best!”

She and Gold hashed out the final version proposal the next morning over Elevenses.  They had agreed that the less Jeff was stressed about this the better.

Once they had that finished, Lacey could not resist bringing up.  “Since you don’t think the STEMaletes have got a shot at Nationals, you’re getting an awful lot of Dad cred for very little effort by promising to fly him back for it.”

“Milah’s taking him him to the Caribbean for the summer.  On top of being an Eco Warrior and saving the bloody planet.”  Rum growled.  “I have to compete with that while still being the responsible parent.  I’ll take my ‘cred’ as you call it where I can.”

Points to her for getting him to admit it.  By way of being a gracious winner she poured and prepared his tea for him.

After she handed it to him she asked,  “So you gonna hook up with the ex while she’s here?”

Rum sputter into his tea.  “God no!  I wouldn’t even assuming Milah were interested. Which she’s not remotely.   She and Killian have been disgustingly happy together for more than ten years now.  We’ve managed to establish… an equilibrium of civility when it come to being Neal’s parents.  There is no way I’d risk that.  Not for a quick shag.”

“Wouldn’t have to be quick.”  Lacey helped herself to a biscuit.  

“Generally was toward the end.”  Rum said dryly.  “Which should have clued me in a lot earlier than it did.”

“Yeah, crap sex is the first sign they’re losing interest.”  Lacey agreed.  “Gaston stopped trying long before you showed up and got us fired.”

“I did not get you fired.”  Rum denied.

Lacey shrugged.  She was too interested in pursuing something else she had noticed about his comment.  “Neal said you got divorced while he was in kindergarten.  That’s only eight years ago.”

“Yeah.”  Rum developed a sour look.  “She and Killian got together a couple of years before.  At first I just thought she was happier cause she was back sailing.  When I finally figured out she was a little too happy for it to be just enjoying her work, well, mostly I just pretended like I hadn’t.          

“We hadn’t been good for a while at that point.”  He stirred his tea unnecessarily. “Moving to Maine and having Neal was supposed to be us trying to make it work.”

“Didn’t take?” Lacey asked.

“I think it actually made things worse.”  Rum admitted.  “She didn’t really enjoy the sort of work she could do here at a land based research station.  She felt too tied down with a baby.  And I wasn’t very supportive about the way she felt.  I love being able to work from home and take care of Neal.

“Then she got the chance of doing research with Greenpeace.  We had a huge row over her taking that job.  The job requited her to be away from home four to five months at a time.  That pretty much put paid to our marriage even though we didn’t do anything about it legally for years after.

“So I wasn’t really surprised when she found someone else.  What I was surprised at was that she was willing to give up on Neal.  When he was four she calmly announced that she was leaving Greenpeace and joining this radical group calling themselves the Eco Pirates and her next expedition would have her gone for more than a year, well, I told her she had to make a choice.”

He looked up with a depreciating smile.  “She didn’t choose us.”

Lacey could understand wanting your freedom.  But that afternoon when she made tea for the kids she wondered about Milah’s choice.  You would have to be damn committed to a career to leave Neal behind.  She was pretty sure in Milah’s shoes she would have found another way. Hell, she had figured out how to stick around for Dad and still get herself a career she liked and that was nothing like leaving a little kid.  

Regina called back two days after they sent her the proposal.  “Can you come up with another $4000?  The bankruptcy Trustee won’t go lower that $67,000. But he’s willing to throw in gratos a total release for you from the non-competition agreement you signed with Enchanted Software.”

“Take it.”  Gold told her.  “I’ll find the money somewhere.  How soon can we get the source code?”

“He’ll hand it over at closing.”  Regina told him.      

“Tell him we can have the money together by the end of the week.”  Jeff told him. “And we want that release to include Alice as well.”

“Already thought of that.”  Regina assured him.

When the conference call ended,  Gold turned to Jeff.  “You’re not putting up your money for this.  This is my personal vendetta.  I won’t ask you to go along with it.”

“First, you didn’t ask.  I offered.”  Jeff sounded surprisingly coherent.  “Second I’m not going to use my money.  I’m going to use Alice’s money.  Those bastards shafted her just as much as they did you.  She would want to see her work released as much as you do.”

Gold looked like he was going to refuse for a moment, but finally nodded.  “We’re going to need some more coders.  You and I can’t do everything.  Do you think Dakkar would be interested?”

“Very likely. I’ll call and see.”

“Get me a list of qualifications you want and I’ll post an ad.”  Lacey told them. “I’m sure there are some kids at U Maine who wouldn’t mind some summer work.  You are going to be able to pay them I assume?”

The two men exchanged looks.  “Are we?”  Jeff asked.

“We’ll need to dip into the company reserves.”  Gold admitted.  “If we can finish the updates in a couple of months we won’t have to start using the kids’ college funds.”

They were on pins and needles for a week until the next call came.  Luckily the team had it’s finally local competition and placed to go on to regionals so they had something to else to think about.

Then the call came. “We got it.”  Regina announced.

“He’ll turn it over to us as soon as your check clears escrow.  I’ll meet him in Boston to hand over your paperwork and pick up the code.  Apparently it’s on antique hard drives.  I hope you’ve got a way to read them.”

“Uhm, Regina. We can’t afford to pay you to act as delivery girl.”  Gold told her.

“Don’t worry I’m only billing you for the time at the meeting itself.”  She told them.  “After all the trouble this stupid code as caused over the years, I’m not about to risk it going astray.  I’m going to hand carry it to Storybrooke myself.  It’s a nice little town and I deserve a weekend away.”

When they finished the call, Gold whispered,  “We did it.”

“If by did it you mean we just just used all your available cash to buy a whole hell of a lot of work then yeah.”  Lacey told him.  “But this is just the start.”

“Yeah, but tonight we celebrate.”  Jeff beamed at them both.  “Ice cream at Granny’s!”

“You’re buying.” Gold told him.  “I’m broke, remember?”

“I will even splurge for hot fudge and nuts.”  Jeff promised.  

While they were waiting for the code to get delivered Lacey finally showed Gold what she and Jeff had been working on.  “I did some plans about how long the different add-ons would take to have in shape to market.  Jeff and I think we should release the bookkeeping, inventory control and educational math ones when we release the main program.”

“You’ve already got half of the project scheduling figured out.”  Gold was impressed.

“I’ve always said, I’m a good project manager.”  She smirked.  “Admit it, you’re glad you hired me.”

“I’m not unhappy.”  He sipped his tea and admitted.  “It is rather nice to have an adult to talk to who I’m not constantly monitoring to make sure his meds don’t need adjusting.”

She was setting up an interview schedule with some of the U Maine students who had applied to work for them on the updates when Neal approached her looking very serious.

“Could you kind of keep an eye on Dad while I’m gone?”  He asked.  “When I'm gone he gets really into programming and when he does that sometimes he forgets stuff.”

“Like paying bills and doctors appointments?”

“More like eating and sleeping.”  Neal sighed.  “When he has Jeff to keep an eye on it keeps him on schedule.  But this year Grace is signed up for all these summer programs and Jeff's not going to be around as much.  If Dad loses track of time he may forget to check in on Jeff and Grace too.”  

“So I’ll need to keep an eye on Jeff as well?  I’m pretty sure nurse maid isn’t part of my job description.”    

“You’re the project manager.”  Neal pointed out.  “I grew up around computer geeks, remember?  Babysitting is pretty much what project managers do.”

“You have a point, kid.”  Lacey admitted.  “Okay, I’ll nag your Dad to look after himself, and Jeff, while you’re gone.  But you better call regularly and check up on us to make sure I’m doing my job right.”

Cause Rum was going to spend the summer worrying about the kid if he did not hear from him regularly.  Hell, he was going to spend the summer worried about him anyway.  Probably why he lost himself in programming while the kid was gone.

“I’ll call when I can and email when I can’t.”  Neal promised.  “But I Googled this place.  It’s kind of the back end of nowhere.  I’m not sure even how much internet access there’s going to be.  Let alone phone.”

“There’s a resort.”  Lacey had Googled it too.  Kid was not wrong.  “You can probably get cell coverage from there.  And a research station will need to have some kind of connectivity.  Even one running on the cheap.”

[dorothydelgadillo]

9 Ways to Manage Your Inbox Instead of Letting Your Emails Manage You

American office workers are spending an average of 6.5 hours per day responding to and generating email. And according to Verizon, 90 percent of Americans bring their smartphones to the bathroom.

I had big goals for a recent precious Saturday. Weeks ago, I sent my husband a calendar invite that read “Laurie Writing Day.” He graciously accepted, and when I left the house he and our two boys were hammering away (literally) at their latest home improvement project.

I arrived at our town library to find my favorite table in the quiet room empty and waiting for me. Score! I was free. And fired up. Yet with one rookie mistake, I nearly sabotaged my entire writing day trying to clear some headspace before focusing on my creative project. I stupidly opened my email. Three hours later, I was deep in the rabbit hole yet still only halfway through several hundred work emails.

As a working mother, I spend too many days waking up at 5:00 a.m. already feeling like there aren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish everything I would like to. As I churned through my emails I started to question—how much of this can we own as individuals? If we acknowledge (as countless articles have) that email is universally reviled, if it’s quantifiably stealing years from our one and precious lives, where is the revolution?

But there are options here, especially if we focus on human beings and the choices at our fingertips.

1. Block Time

Block time on your calendar for “email churn” and avoid checking it any other time. Whether your block lasts one, two, or three hours is up to you—decide what works in the context of the expectations of your chosen profession and level. Just make sure you give your team the heads up.

At this stage, you might be thinking: “But you just don’t understand. . .” Rest assured, I do. Exceptional circumstances are the bane of change, in my view. Dare to question your assumptions; there are usually workarounds.

For example, client responsiveness is key in my profession. Yet at the same time making meaningful progress on projects often requires several hours of uninterrupted focus. How should you reconcile these two things? First, I turned off the new message alerts that pop up every time an email arrives—how incredibly distracting! To compensate, I created sound alerts for specified individuals, namely my clients. This way, I don’t miss important outreach and I am not distracted by the constant visual and audio pings of arriving emails.

2. Make it a Team Effort

Support your team’s use of time blocks and real downtime. Avoid being that annoying colleague who clicks send on an email then runs down the hall and asks “Did you see my email?” I know I am guilty of this myself. Agree on a strategy that works for everyone.

For example, instant message (or dare I say an old fashioned phone call) is a great workaround for time sensitive outreach. Just be careful not to abuse the system in your enthusiasm—there is a difference between satisfying our craving for instant gratification and that which is truly time sensitive. Which leads me to. . .

3. Be Thoughtful

We’re all suffering from email overload, but we’re all contributing to it as well. What can we do, as individuals, to reduce this suffering?

For example: I had 30 or so emails in my inbox that included some variation of “Hi Laurie, are you free to catch up this week?” That’s it. No context. No available times proposed. These emails create several avoidable extra steps for me, and are more likely to be filed or deleted. It’s mathematical, not personal. I love my work and the people involved, but there are only so many hours in the day.

When crafting an email:

Be succinct but offer context

Offer available times if attempting to schedule

Consider if all recipients truly need to be included

Avoid back and forth thank you, you’re welcome, and other pleasantries that multiply email traffic

If it’s after hours or on the weekend, consider saving it as a draft or scheduling delivery during business hours. We all need a break from email. This isn’t a lack of worth ethic; this is brain science. Many of us catch up during odd hours, but this creates unnecessary stress for others. Unless it’s urgent, do we really need to click send immediately? I’ve received emails from people I respect on Easter Sunday and Christmas Day. And as I caught myself judging them, I realized I was the loser checking email. On Easter Sunday. And Christmas Day. There are no bad guys and good guys here; we are all co-creating this insanity.

4. Avoid Checking Email First Thing

Getting sucked in to email upon waking up in the morning is a well- known productivity killer. And yet so many of us do it. Why? It’s gratifying, it’s easier than tackling harder tasks, and having so many unread emails can feel mentally paralyzing or even risky, especially if we’re working across global time zones.

Try this: Before anything else (except maybe meditating or exercising) spend 15-30 minutes clarifying your goals for the day and planning your schedule. Then ideally accomplish one nagging task—this sets you up mentally for a productive day.

Now it’s time to check in and make sure there aren’t any landmines in your inbox.

5. Address Root Cause Issues

Investing the time to address several root cause issues of email overload would be time well spent:

Report spam

Unsubscribe

Use email signatures or text expanders for often used responses

Discover what other email productivity hacks exist in your Outlook, Gmail or other providers

Ask to be left off unnecessary emails

6. Take Command of Your To-Do List

Your inbox is not your to-do list.

Whether you use a technology solution or an old school notebook, have a place to offload the mental weight of your to-do list. Even better, calendar it. If the deliverable is important, dedicate specific time. If it’s not, file or hit delete.

As a next level hack, designate a clearly identified place on that list for your top 5 priorities for the day. This is your North Star. This is what you (not others) have identified as your top priorities.

This accountability will serve you well when you find yourself churning through email or being pulled in to the fire drills of others throughout the day. Ask yourself: “Why is my attention elsewhere and not on my top priorities?”

It’s like meditation. We’re human and prone to distraction, especially when it involves helping others. The magic is recognizing when we’ve drifted off and getting ourselves refocused. Over and over again.

7. Write Like a Boss

My emails are lengthy. I like to write. My poor suffering colleagues would likely vote me off the island if brevity mattered. So it’s time to walk my talk.

Moving forward, I am committed to writing a healthy percentage of my emails the way CEOs do, specifically:

Keeping emails very short (possibly one line)

Saying “No, but thanks” more than others would like

Using “On it” to assure the sender I have their outreach in mind (which I may or may not action right away)

Reduce the number of people cc’d

Using fewer lead-ins and other non-essential words—emails are specific and straight to the point.

Ramping up quick responses from my phone instead of more thoughtful (and lengthy) responses from my desk

Reducing use of small talk, pleasantries and social banter

This last one may take some getting used to. I like people, and want our exchanges to be friendly and warm. Professionally and personally this matters. But I am committed to the cause.

8. Declare Bankruptcy

Several times a year, I return from vacation with 600-800 emails in my inbox. For an efficiency hack, this is paralyzing.

While keeping up with email during vacation may not be sound advice for everyone, ultimately I found that it works best for me.

The trade-off? I declare bankruptcy my first day back in the office. Everything truly essential has already been dealt with or delegated while I was away. Now, it’s time for the egregious act of hitting select all and moving everything to a folder I cheekily name something like “August 2017 Post Vacation Bankruptcy.”

My inbox is empty. My head is clear. I can focus on my top priorities. And while I am mildly anxious and have undoubtedly disappointed some, the overall benefits are worth the risk. I trust that anything urgent will appear again. And I am prepared to own it and say sorry if any important balls get dropped which, surprisingly, rarely happens. Later, I will churn through this folder (at a designated time—see Rule #1) and make sure I didn’t miss anything.

9. Set Boundaries

Is anything sacred anymore?

I attended a wedding in 2007 when BlackBerrys were all the rage. Being issued one signaled to the world that you were important. At one point all five groomsmen were heads down on their devices during the rehearsal which took place at a beautiful vineyard on the North Fork of Long Island overlooking the ocean. Instead of connecting with each other or enjoying the view, these old friends were on email. Remember this was before iPhones, before we were all so addicted. The emails weren’t urgent but the groomsmen’s desire to impress (or check out) took precedence during a once in a lifetime weekend. I snapped a photo because it was novel; but that scene might be considered normal now.

Ten years later, I am hopeful that having the courage to be unplugged and present in our lives will emerge as the new status symbol.

Meantime, we are in control of how much we allow email to infiltrate our lives. Just because an email arrives doesn’t mean we must immediately respond. Ask yourself: “If I am being honest, is this really so time sensitive?” Better yet, ask your partner. They will happily tell you no, it’s not.

Whether for a project requiring deep focus, family dinner, date night, workouts or other elements of living a fully realized life, experiment with setting aside a sacred block of time when you’re 100 percent off the grid.

Does your commitment to being a present parent or avoiding burnout trump your fear of missing out? Is it strong enough to overcome distraction? Have you told others so they hold you accountable to your commitment? A few months ago, I set a goal of taking a one hour walk per week without my iPhone. I’ve been surprised and humbled by how difficult this is. I am still a work in progress on this.

We are all a work in progress. At present, I feel like email is winning. But this afternoon, I transformed my frustration in to this article. I am fighting the good fight, and this small victory will hopefully serve others as well.

Bonus: Use Email as a Force For Good

Spend five minutes today sending someone a note expressing gratitude, kudos, or support if they’re going through a challenging time.

This post originally appeared on Ellevate Network.

from Web Developers World https://skillcrush.com/2018/03/09/how-to-manage-your-inbox/