#so it’s easier to just overly apologize and try to salvage things than it is to say what I really want to

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[willownoir1112]

Hello you beautiful people of Tumblr! Wyn here with day two of White Rose Week! I am humbled by the wonderful response my day one submission received, and I hope everyone continues to enjoy as we continue onward!

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Rules

No one, not even a Goddess, can ever predict a zombie apocalypse. But, to a well organized, if overly sugared mind, even a plague of brain eating former people can be survived. And if said mind is kept in check by an equally overly caffeinated, blueberry and cute dog adoring brain, well, even an attack by creatures even the Grimm fear due to not being immune may in fact be survivable.

"Listen up!" Ruby Rose roars as she looks about at the gathered survivors of Beacon Academy, which had been hit hard by the initial wave of the undead. They have all gathered inside the auditorium, which has been turned into a small fortress by the group of survivors in their desperation and fear. "My beautiful white wolf and I have been planning for this since second year, and we've come up with some rules that everyone needs to follow if we're going to survive this."

"Rules?!" Cardin Winchester cries out in terror as he sits next to a boarbatusk that is actually trembling in fear. "What good are rules against things that won't die?!"

Weiss Schnee sighs as she looks at him with sympathy for his obviously missing brain, thus making him a hundred percent safe from the rampaging hordes. "Because if we follow this list of simple rules, we will keep ourselves and others safe, you ignoramus. Or do all of you want to end up like Jaune?" She points out.

Every single head, whether it belongs to a Grimm, a human, or a faunus shakes vigorously. The blonde in question having made the mistake of approaching what they all believed to be a sick little girl. To their horror, they all watched in an odd detached fascination as the child proceeded to knock him down and start feasting on his face, while his screams turned into something that was simply not human. 

Then the rest of the zombie hordes descended upon them, which is how they all found themselves inside Beacon's auditorium, which was the closest shelter they could safely reach.

"Any other questions?" Ruby calls out, once again getting vigorous headshakes as well as murmured responses in the negative. "Ok, good! Now, let's get started!" She declares as she turns towards a salvaged chalkboard from an otherwise empty storage room and begins to write vigorously. "Rule number one, Cardio! To escape a pursuing zombie you'll need to out-run it, and that means being in good shape!"

"Welp, I'm doomed!" Automne Ombre from team TAPE declares sullenly, his leader, Tyra, nodding in agreement.

"Rennie, I promise Yang and I will take turns carrying you!" Nora Valkyrie declares as she hugs her best friend, who has a look of acceptance for his fate on his face.

Weiss shakes her head. "Ren, you and several others will need to work on your endurance. Or get very good at climbing trees and buildings."

"Arrrr. Roo, ruff ruff." A beowolf barks out next.

"He wants to point out that several Griffons have been turned as well." The Hound declares calmly from where it sits next to Weiss's twin sister Willow, her new Master.

"It was a pleasure to know you all." Ren deadpans seriously as he untangles himself from Nora. But to everyone's surprise, he suddenly strides to Emerald Sustrai and sweeps her off her feet and into a deep kiss.

"Now that's a kiss!" Ruby declares, while Weiss holds up a sign with a number nine on it. Blake holds up an eight, and Yang enthusiastically waves a ten over her head.

"Ahem, can we continue?" Professor Goodwitch calls out, even as she keeps staring nervously at the scroll held in hands threatening to shatter the device if they hold it much more tightly. "Please, Mina. Please answer me." She mutters.

"Fair enough. Ruby, rule number two please?"

"Number does! Double Tap! When in doubt, don't get stingy with your bullets!" The Reaper declares enthusiastically as she brandishes her Crescent Rose above her head.

"As we have all learned now, most zombies won't die from just one hit unless it's a shot to the head, and it will instead get up in very little time - and will then bite you." Weiss continues as the rabbit faunus fawns over her beloved weapon. "The most effective way to prevent this is to take a second shot or a follow up hit to their head which will stop them from attacking again, and surely one more shot can't do too much harm! For this to work, you will need at least two shots in your weapon at all times so you can double tap without having to worry about reloading in time."

You usually won't get that time!" Ruby singsongs before she returns to hugging her sweetheart.

"Luckily, the second shot should be easier as the first shot should take the zombie to the floor and temporarily prevent the zombie from moving." The white wolf finishes before Gibbs slapping her girlfriend. "Stop that, dolt!"

"And just what are you going to do, Weiss?" Blake calls out as she sits next to Ilia, who is staring in fascination at the full sized Drake that has managed to squeeze into the auditorium with them.

"I'm the first tap!" Ruby declares menacingly.

"And I'm the second, Kitten." Weiss follows up coldly.

"I'm convinced." Yang declares firmly as she sits next to Nora, who is watching in surprise as Ren continues to make out with a still surprised Emerald. "So what's the next rule, sis?"

"Limber Up!" She declares enthusiastically. "Before going into a zombie-infested area, you'll need to prepare for the impending running by limbering up."

Cinder Fall, who is sitting next to a shell shocked Pyrrha, holds up her hand. "Hold up! This one doesn't make much sense!"

Dr. Ara Ebony stands while nodding. "I hate to inform you of this, but despite the common notion that stretching prior to exercise reduces the chance of injury, or prepares you for a run, most modern studies point to muscle and tendon stretching exercises prior to engaging in heavy cardio actually reducing performance and increasing the likelihood of muscle, joint, and connective tissue injury." She explains calmly, getting a groan from the Reaper.

"I told you that was a ridiculous rule, Dolt." Weiss adds in agreement.

"Fine! Forget that one!" She sighs as she looks around. "Then let's go with the Buddy System!" She declares as her grin returns. "You can't always look in front of you and behind you at the same time."

"Even though the common zombie has so far proven themselves to be slow they can still surround you and trap you in a corner, so with the help of a buddy you have a better chance of clearing and keeping an area safe." The white wolf explains as she smiles. "There is also another great reason to follow this rule which would be in case you get an injury the assistance of another person can be perfect for this situation."

Velvet stands and looks around. "And, if you don't want to be with people, It's easier using a handgun to your head." 

"We have plenty of them stashed in our dorm room!" Coco adds with a cocky smirk.

"How about sharing some then?!" Cardin cries out. "I don't even own a squirt gun!"

"Apologize to my sister, and we'll talk." Sasha Scarlatina, who is in her first year growls out, her own girlfriend Sarah Arc next to her and already counting her ammo.

To everyone's complete and total surprise, the young man walks to the rabbit faunus and falls to his knees in front of her. "I'm sorry." He declares loudly enough to be heard by everyone present. "I'm an asshole, and I honestly don't deserve a single bit of kindness anyone would show me, but I'm not ready to die."

"Apology… accepted." Velvet whispers, getting a nod from Ruby and Coco both. "Admitting you're an ass is the first step."

"Let us continue." The white wolf looks at her dolt, who nods as she steps forward.

"Don't be a hero." Ruby declares sadly, while looking at the sealed off doors to the auditorium. "It's possibly the most important rule of all. Don't risk your own life just to make yourself look good."

"When taking risks in our new reality, there is always the possibility that you might get eaten alive by zombies. This isn't a risk you want to be taking so rather than trying to go for the "bad boy or bad girl look", Yang." 

"Hey! Not during all this crap!" The Brawler calls back.

"Just simply take a step back and keep yourself safe. Unfortunately, you won't make yourself look too impressive if a zombie is currently biting into your arm. However, remember that there are certain circumstances where perhaps this rule should be ignored, so that maybe you save someone who makes staying alive worth it, or making sure that you will still have a partner to back you up later - as they might be responsible for saving your life later. Always follow this rule... except when you shouldn't." Weiss stops and smiles at Ruby, who grins back at her.

"I'd definitely break it for you, Snowflake!"

"I know you would, my dolt."

"Blargh!" Nora pantomimes gagging, getting scattered laughter from the gathered survivors. 

"Miss Rose, may I add one last rule?" Headmaster Ozpin, who has silently sat next to a shocked into silence Celestia Peach this whole time, calls out.

"Well sure, Headmaster!" Ruby replies while she looks at the instructor with some concern. "And is Professor Peach ok?"

"She will be fine once she gets the image of Jaune being eaten alive out of her head." He replies as he stands and joins them at the podium. Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of coffee before beginning. "Enjoy the little things. As well as surviving all the zombies which obviously will soon be dominating our world, you'll also need to maintain a happy and sane state of mind by keeping positive."

Glynda nods as she joins him, a rare smile on her face as her daughter Silentia sleeps in her arms. "With the constant stress of staying alive with little time to put down your gun and rest, it's important that whenever you do get the time, you spend it on entertaining yourself. Of course, soon it will not be easy to entertain yourself in any extravagant way such as playing games, playing sports or watching trivid. So instead it's best to enjoy the little things that come your way whether that be having fun with another survivor, enjoying a luxury you come across, lying back and forgetting about all the problems in the world or even just destroying a whole bunch of little things. Without enjoying the little things, it's all too easy for you to lose sanity and peace of mind from the constant stress and pains of staying alive."

"We… We really can survive this, can't we?" Velvet murmurs quietly, getting nods from everyone present.

"We sure can, Velvet!" Ruby declares enthusiastically as she loads a fresh magazine into her weapon. "I'm gonna go set up on the roof and clean out the crowd. Maybe we can make it to the cafeteria before we get too hungry."

"I'll come spot for you, Ruby." Blake volunteers as she stands, a nervous Ilia whining as she clings to the panther's hand. "Stay with Weiss, ok?" She asks quietly, getting a nod in response.

"The rest of us need to prepare to reach the cafeteria. We can use tables to barricade the doors and whatnot." Weiss adds as they begin to busy themselves. But one thought runs through all their minds as Weiss gets them prepared and Ruby and several others begin to snipe the undead hordes...

When happened to them to convince them to prepare all these rules?

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-Two Years Ago, November 1st-

Weiss Schnee has regrets. Serious, unadulterated, never ending regrets. After attending her girlfriend's seventeenth birthday party, then going trick or treating (which was fun no matter how much she denied it), the two of them settled down to watch Dr. Merlot's Halloween Scare-a-Minute zombie movie marathon. 

Under normal circumstances, the white wolf and her red rabbit would have laughed their way through the rediculous, often borderline idiotic movies, but this year? Oh no, this year Dr. Merlot upped the horror and gore factors to eleven, then unleashed them on the pair of overly sugared and caffeinated, overly sleep deprived young faunus women, with devastating results.

Daybreak found the two of them huddling in Ruby's old treehouse in abject terror as they clutched their weapons in hands that have gone numb from the pressure. Neither of them dare to sleep, for fear of an undead horror reaching them and eating their precious overly agitated, far past rational thinking brains. 

"Ruby?"

"Yeah Weiss?"

"We need a plan." The white wolf points out as she stares at the trap door to the treehouse, which is currently blocked by a pillar of ice created by her when they fled to the safety of the small hide away in the trees.

"A plan?" The rabbit faunus asks nervously, her finger still on Crescent Rose's trigger and terror in her eyes. Her foot long ears are still twitching and swiveling as she strains all four ears to hear the unmistakable noise of a person's skull being cracked open like an egg to create a zombie feast. "Snowflake, it might be too late for a plan."

"Rules then. Rules we can use to stay alive during the hell of the zombie apocalypse." The white wolf declares as she struggles to both hold her weapon as well as keep her eyes open. "Like a rule about a buddy system."

"You're definitely my apocalypse buddy, Snowflake." Ruby declares as one long ear flops down, the Reaper no longer having the energy to keep it held up in the air. "What about cardio?"

"That is important too." Weiss admits with a yawn as her finger slips off of Myrtenaster's trigger. "And perhaps one about double tapping?"

"Uh huh." Ruby replies sleepily as her other ear falls next, her weapon starting to slowly lower itself to the floor. "And stretching. Don't forget stretching…"

"That's a stupid rule…" The white wolf declares with a yawn as her head slowly makes contact with her taller girlfriend's shoulder. "Think we're forgetting one…"

"It's ok…" The red rabbit admits as her head lowers to sit on her girlfriend's. "We'll think of more later…

[vetisntdead]

Murder, By Internet

From the vets behaving badly blog

Feb 24, 2014

I apologize in advance for the length of this, but the story is a bit involved, and I believe illustrative.

Blood ran down my arm, across the back of my hand, and dripped onto the exam table. I stood there quietly taking the verbal abuse from an outraged pet owner, my hands resting on the metal surfaced table. It's better to let them rave themselves breathless rather than trying to interrupt. Ya learn this after a while. Once they've spewed their piece, they eventually stop to take a breath. Then they are not talking. No one can listen when they are talking. It's an A/B switch kinda thing.

I'm pretty thin skinned. Don't mean by this that I'm overly-sensitive. Far from it. Nah, I'm just old. Skin gets thinner when you get old, so when the dog rakes you with those front toenails little furrows appear, followed shortly by that red stuff. And when you follow the physician's advice and take those little aspirin daily, this inhibits platelet aggregation. Oh sorry. Big words, This means you bleed with enthusiasm from little furrows.

I learn from such encounters, even after all these decades of playing this game. I listened intently to the young man, occasionally glancing over at his embarrassed wife. I wanted to learn what he thought I'd done incorrectly. She was dumbfounded by his tirade. I was a mite taken aback myself, but I too stood there taking it in.

By the time he finished, it was completely obvious that I need not try to respond. Why waste the oxygen? This guy had it all figured out, and reality had nothing to do with our little predicament. The first words out of his mouth when he had entered the exam room with his dog, “We didn't like the last vet”, would be the first words out of his mouth at the next veterinary practice. Nothing I had to say was going to change that.

I shook my head and turned away, ignoring that little bit of his spittle hanging off his lower lip. I left him puffing in the exam room. Time to bandage the arm again.

“We should have listened to your internet reviews.”

Yeah, you should have. Thought it but didn't say it. I don't read my reviews, No point in that. But someone, (the mayor of our little city) had mentioned those reviews just the week before. Apparently next to all the good ones were two rather nasty ones. I figured I knew what those were about, and when I replied the mayor simply nodded.

One was a young woman who was incensed when I excused her dog before my exam could even begin. It had something to do with not being able to touch her vicious little dog. Her boyfriend had screamed into my face that I get paid to get bit, and I took some small exception to that bit of misinformation.

The second bad review concerned another client who announced as she entered the exam room, (yep, another who didn't like her last vet) that she was dissatisfied with the dose of the pain killing drug the last doctor had prescribed for her cat, so she had raised the dose without asking if this was appropriate.

The second sentence out of her mouth was to demand from me more of the drug, long before I had the opportunity to become familiar with the animal's condition, the history and the physical exam. I didn't jump at this opportunity for a fast sale, in as much as this was a controlled substance, and prudence suggests we not simply supply these to the public .

Numerous other demands poured from this woman's mouth with each new statement she made. And then the complaints as I began my exam. I was to do it the way she required and how dare I do it my way. I smiled and continued my exam. She continued to rail against every single thing I did. I smiled again.

Goodbye.

The mayor has been a client of mine for roughly thirty years, so I don't know why he consulted those on line reviews, but I'll get back to this thought later.

Anyway, the young couple and their dog entered my exam room. It was a busy Saturday morning and we were completely booked. We'd set aside the usual 15 minute slot for what should have been a routine visit. The chart hinted at an ear problem, and they needed a rabies vaccination. I greeted them in my usual ingratiating fashion. I'm a heck of a nice person after all. The dog was about 45 pounds of one and a half year old mix-breed.

Warning #1: “We didn't like the last vet.”

#2: Dog is wearing a harness rather than a collar. This is where self-preservation kicks in. It's kinda like how you feel when the guy walks into the convenience store wearing a ski mask. Maybe he just has bad acne, but ya still watch em closely.

#3: I get down into my squat that I use to greet every dog that comes into my exam room. This is diplomacy in the dog world. It invites the dog to come over and make friends. It often begins the process that defuses doggie anxiety in the vet's office. It makes the job easier. The friendly dogs just love it. The clients love it. And I really enjoy the dogs. This dog approaches to a four foot distance, stares at me, raises it's lip about a half inch, and then runs behind the man.

#4: “The last vet took a foxtail out of his ear.” When was this? “Last July.” OK, that's foxtail season. Seems reasonable. “But it didn't get better.” (Seemed he intimated that the other vet faked taking a foxtail out of the ear. Heard that nonsense before, too)

OK, how long has he had this ear infection? “I don't know.” Well, how old was he when you first noticed it? “He was about 7 months old.” So, about last February. And it's been infected ever since? “Yes. It didn't get better after the last vet treated it.”

Small wonder. Ears infected for a year, treated once, didn't get better. We gonna need more than 15 minutes for this.

Dog had erect ears, so from across the room I could see a bit of the inside of the ears. They were pigmented black. Bad sign. Usually takes years of neglect before the ears turn black. Turning black is scaring from chronic inflammation, and it portends other damage that is not only permanent but often requires what we call salvage surgery to keep the dog from suffering needlessly. Poor dog's owners clearly lacked the clue.

The young woman showed me the crinkled flattened tube of ear infection medicine. It contained plenty to treat the ears for the usual 10-14 day treatment. “We've been using this ever since, and he didn't get better.”

Sigh.

Without understanding the reasons for chronic or recurring ear infections in dogs, the poor owners who are treating these ears are unlikely to get it right. No knock on owners ( this time), but when not handled correctly such infections often turn into disasters, and even when handled correctly they are often not cured, but merely managed. The sun comes up in the east, and some dog ear infections are extremely challenging to treat. That's just how it is.

Educating pet owners is the single most important thing veterinarians do. This is how we best help the animals. It is critical. It prevents a lot of the preventable disasters. It is also the most challenging aspect of the job. (there he goes, picking on pet owners again) So I spent a half hour explaining the basics to this young couple. My receptionist stopped by to wag two fingers in my face. The next two clients were already waiting. But I was getting somewhere with these two and I didn't want to stop. They seemed to be learning.

Now you might wonder why I still hadn't examined this dog. Normally, this would precede the education part, but I like to give the fearful dogs time to become accustomed to the room and me, and it gives me time to defuse some of the anxiety or hostility residing in the owners, for they set these dogs off by how they react. So I laid on the whole lesson, going back over each concept in different ways when they didn't understand. I'm good at this. Done it for decades. Most clients thank me once they figure things out. I made my other clients wait while investing important time with this couple. It began to feel as if we might make this work.

The time arrived when I would try to examine the dog. Prospects for this hadn't improved much. The dog still would not come over to sniff me. It had sniffed the entire room, wandered out of the room when the owner didn't pull him back by the leash, but never once approached me. You don't simply reach for a dog behaving like this.

I got into my squat again, and it approached to that same 4 feet, and then headed for the other side of the room. The man holding the leash stood right beside me. His dog was over there, giving me the eye. Silly veterinarians often wonder why the owners don't simply use the leash to pull the dog to them so we can actually do our job. Rarely happens. So after a bit, I reached up and took the leash from his hand, and gently pulled the dog toward me. He stopped at that magic 4 foot distances. A bit more tug on the leash as I entreated the dog to come. Harness goes up and over head, landing limply on the floor. Dog hurries over to stand beside the woman, over there.

I held up the useless and turned to the man. “This is why you don't use a harness. They give you no control over your dog.”

Woman stands next to dog. Doesn't grab his collar. Doesn't try to bring the dog over to me. Man does nothing. Woman speaks, “Maybe I should leave the room. He gets real protective of me.”

Ah...warning #5. I shouldn't need to explain this one.

I turn to look at the man standing next to me. Why don't you go over there, take the dog by the collar, and bring him over here? A novel concept he had apparently not considered.

He squats next to me, dog cradled between his legs, biting part facing out. Perfectly wrong set up for dealing with an untrained fearful dog.

I take collar and pull dog in front of me. He lunges left, he lunges right, he lunges left again. I hold collar. He stops lunging and I turn him to face away and induce him to sit. Soft calming voice, praising him for a sit, petting and scratching his back. He settles a bit. I touch an ear.

Dog lunges left, dog lunges right. For expedience I will not repeat this part over and again. The dog did. Take my word for it. After some considerable time, I give up on examining ears. I turn to look at the man who is still squatting right next to me. No attempt whatsoever to control his own dog.

Your dog really needs a good obedience training course. Not only will it teach him to behave, but it will impart him with some badly needed confidence so he won't misbehave like this. Nothing.

OK, enough wasted time. I give the dog his rabies vaccine, and go to stand up. Dog launches one more time, spinning in a circle, which locks my hand in the collar. Not a good thing if he begins to nibble on my arm. Manage to untangle my hand without injury, but dog rears on his hind legs and rakes my arm with his claws. I know that feeling. I'm done with dog and turn him loose.

I'm washing the blood off my arm when the man launches on me. He doesn't like how I held his dog by the collar. Really? How else does one hold a dog by the collar? Silly me. Took me a bit before I realized that he didn't want the dog held at all. That thing where I always say that the use of a harness is the owner's concession that he has no desire to control the dog at all. That's this guy.

So I stood beside my exam table, bleeding, while he assailed me. And then I walked out of the room, bandaged my arm, and then put on my smile for the next client. Excuse me for trying to help. The day went on, as they have for all these decades.

Will this guy put up a bad review on line? Don't know. Don't care. I don't read reviews. I don't defend myself when a bad one shows up. Don't care. My practice has been growing for decades because satisfied clients send their friends to me, and people who don't like how I try to help their animals are welcome find someone who does it differently. Lot's of ways to skin a cat. (sorry cat lovers)

Does it hurt my feelings after all these years of dedicating my life to helping people and their pets to have someone scream at me like that. Yeah....a little. I got into this profession to help, and I've sacrificed a lot to continue doing this for a lifetime. Mostly it is rewarding. Sometimes it breaks my heart.

So why the longs story? Well, last week a few people killed a veterinarian I know.

Oh, they didn't poke her with a knife or shoot her with a gun. But they killed her.

Shirley was in practice for over thirty years, and although a bit unconventional at times, she was always compassionate, up to date, hard working. She finally got the chance to start her own little practice. On a shoestring, she opened a small place in the city of New York. As all start-ups do, it was a struggle. The economy still sucked. The weather sucked. The likely illegal collusion between landlord, banker, contractor and maybe even organized crime nearly bankrupted her. But it took crazy cat ladies to kill her.

A feeder of feral cat colonies in the city adopted a cat from a shelter and then turned it loose in a city park, in the snow and the 2014 winter, to struggle on its own. This lady thinks this is good for cats. Some friends of hers brought the sick cat to Shirley for a medical problem, but of course declined most everything necessary due to cost. So as she had done in the past, Shirley asked them to surrender their cat so she could care for it and then try to find it a nice home. Because they could not provide properly for the cat, they agreed. Later, the woman who had turned the cat loose in the park showed up to claim the cat, and Shirley refused. She didn't want to see the cat abandoned again. And she didn't at that point even know who owned the cat. For she had been duped into believing the first two people owned it.

That's when it started. Vicious evil people have the same voice on the internet as the rest. An organized assault on Shirley began on the net. An on-line blog that specializes in character assassination zeroed in on her. Protesters with signs lined the street in front of her hospital, and had to be removed from her clinic by the police. People who had no idea of the facts hopped on board with the mob because the evil rich veterinarian deserved it. They were vicious, conscienceless, and evil. But they got their wish.

Shirley killed herself the other night.

And the vermin on the blog celebrated, cheering her death in their posts.

Ask any veterinarian out here. This hurts us. So I guess they win.

[jennycalendar]

deliberate obstruction

read it on ao3!

“I have gone on multiple dates, all in completely different locations, and you have ruined every single one of them.”

(Giles is doing his best to get over Jenny. Jenny is doing her best to impede the process.)

for @worn-whorehouse-stairs!! i left a longer note for u on The Fic Itself but like...this is bc you tagged me in all those post-breakup au fics. so. this is your fault and also your fic. lov u bunches.

The first time it happened, Giles completely missed why it happened, for a multitude of reasons that would later have him somewhat wryly frustrated with himself. For one thing, dinner with Olivia was quite different than dinner with someone like Jenny; he and Olivia had known each other long enough that an interrupted dinner wasn’t too much of a roadblock in their relationship. For another thing, Giles would never have guessed Jenny to attempt something as underhanded and un-subtle as what she did. And the final, largest reason that Giles completely missed the subtext of Jenny’s intervention was simple: it had been a lonely summer, he had found himself thinking about her far more often than he’d care to admit, and every bloody time he saw her, all intelligent thought left his head.

As such, when Jenny arrived at their table, wearing the sparkly, satiny plum dress that nicely accented her figure, all Giles could manage was a sort of frightened noise before he did his best to hide his face behind his menu.

This didn’t work. “Rupert,” said Jenny. “Hi. Um, this is kind of awkward, but I think you guys are sitting at my table?”

Giles didn’t know what to say to that.

“You two…know each other?” said Olivia, looking between Giles and Jenny with a strange expression.

“Oh, yeah, he asked me to marry him one time,” said Jenny, as casually as if she were talking about the weather. “Whole big thing. So, you’re his new girl?”

Olivia was giving Jenny a thoughtful, half-amused look. Then she said, “I don’t know if I’d call myself that. Rupert, would you call me your new girl?”

Giles was very busy alternating between pretending to read the entrée section and pretending he didn’t exist.

“Whatever the term you kids use,” said Jenny with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I kinda reserved this table for a whole party-for-one dinner thing. Taking myself out on the town seemed nice.”

“We can move,” said Olivia helpfully, somehow entirely unbothered by Jenny’s presence.

“No, it’s okay,” said Jenny brightly. “I really don’t mind. Breakups are fresh and weird and maybe this’ll make things a little easier, you know? Call it exposure therapy. Rupert’s a great guy.”

“Isn’t he?” Olivia was relaxing, now, her smile becoming less contemplative and more genuine. “God, breakups can be the worst. My condolences.”

“I’ll have the salmon,” said Giles very loudly to the waiter, who had just arrived. Then, “Olivia, if you’ll excuse me,” and he got up, donned his jacket, and left, not bothering to look back and see whether Olivia was following. There were very few things that inspired him to make such an ungraceful, hasty exit; Jenny Calendar was absolutely one of them.

Olivia arrived at Giles’s place early the next morning, wearing the same floral-print dress she’d worn to the restaurant, her lipstick artfully smudged. Giles felt a sudden, violent surge of jealousy, looking at her, and was well aware that it was for all the wrong reasons. Jenny was an adult, he reminded himself. Jenny was an adult, who had made it very clear that he wasn’t what she wanted, and she had every bloody right to sleep with people she did want to sleep with—

“I’m sorry, Rupert,” said Olivia, and gave him a genuinely apologetic smile. “If it helps, the guilt did put a bit of a damper on the sex.”

“I’m sure it did,” said Giles, and tried to smile back. He honestly wasn’t that mad at Olivia. They’d been friends long enough for him to know that casual arrangements worked best for her, and this wasn’t the first time they’d gone out and she’d gone home with someone else. “Will you be seeing her again?”

“She implied that I could,” said Olivia, with a wary air of one testing shark-infested waters.

It wasn’t fair, Giles tried to remind himself, holding Olivia back from Jenny just because he was bitter and jealous. It wasn’t. “If you’d like to,” he said carefully, “I think I’m all right with that.” He wasn’t, he knew, but Jenny seeing other people was something he was going to have to get used to. He had no intention of impeding the process for her.

The second time it happened was when Giles really was on a first date. Joyce had set him up with one of her friends from book club: a soft-spoken woman named Maura with gently curling red hair. She’d gone for the polar opposite of Jenny, Giles thought, which was kind, but he liked romantic partners who were willing to tell him when they thought he was wrong. Maura simply got a hesitant, semi-disapproving look in her eyes and changed the subject. He’d made some disparaging remark about some book or other, one that she’d evidently liked, and now they were left in an awkward silence, waiting for their food to show up.

Giles, determined to salvage the situation, decided to make an effort. “That book does has its strong points,” he said, trying to smile. “I suppose I’m a bit overly critical. More fond of nonfiction, myself; I get too bogged down in plausibility when it comes to reading fiction.”

“Oh, I can understand that,” said Maura, brightening. “I can’t stand those vampire novels, can you? The concept of humans who suck blood…” She trailed off, making a face. “Apart from being ridiculously disturbing, it just doesn’t seem realistic.”

“Vampires aren’t actually humans,” corrected Giles without thinking. Maura’s warm expression faded. “Um—”

“Rupert!”

Giles turned, staring. Jenny was weaving through the diner, splattered with mud. What, he thought, are the odds that this should happen twice in a row?

“Hey,” said Jenny, waving to Maura. “Sorry to interrupt—”

“Do try not to sleep with my date this time, thank you,” said Giles before he could stop himself.

“Excuse me?” said Maura.

Jenny raised her eyebrows. “So that was a date?” she said. “Olivia seemed to be under the impression that you two were just old friends having dinner.”

“Olivia?” said Maura, who now sounded outright affronted.

“What do you want,” said Giles, well aware that this was most likely the last time he’d ever see Maura. He really would have to apologize to Joyce.

“My car broke down,” said Jenny. “I pushed it into the parking lot, but it’s getting dark, and, well, you know how the vampires get in this town.”

“Vampires?” Maura echoed.

“Is your thing just, like, parroting everything I say?” Jenny asked Maura, giving her a small, unpleasant smile. “Rupert, what’s the deal with her? She doesn’t seem your type.”

“Leave,” said Giles.

“Am I supposed to just walk home alone?” There was a challenging, combative tilt to Jenny’s smile, one that brought Giles back to those faculty meetings in Sunnydale High. She’d make some statement about the budgetary needs of the computer lab, he’d stand up to contest it just because he resented her asking for money the school shouldn’t be spending on those ridiculous machines—

“You are behaving like an utter child,” Giles informed her, “you are being intolerably rude to my date—”

“So this is a date,” said Jenny, sounding satisfied with herself. “Good to know.”

“You know what, Rupert, I think—I think I’m going to go,” said Maura uncomfortably, looking all but miserable.

“No, Maura, stay—” Giles began, feeling absolutely awful.

“No, I think—I should, I should go,” said Maura, and didn’t wait for Giles’s response, getting up from their booth and hurrying past Jenny without looking back.

Giles turned to Jenny, who looked absolutely unbothered by this turn of events. “That date was going badly anyway, wasn’t it?” she said.

“That is none of your business,” said Giles, infuriated. “You had no reason to—to show up, turn things upside down, hurt Maura’s feelings—”

“I gave her a reason to leave!” said Jenny, as though this should be obvious. “You should be thanking me! And anyway, I didn’t show up to sleep with your date, I showed up because my car broke down and I saw you through the window of the diner! So unless you want me walking home and getting killed—”

Giles threw a handful of bills down on the table and stalked out of the restaurant. He could hear Jenny following him, and didn’t turn to look at her until they were standing outside the diner. “You were terrible to Maura,” he said fiercely.

“You were terrible to me!” Jenny shouted. “Who the hell opens with don’t try to sleep with my date? If you didn’t want me to sleep with Olivia that badly, you shouldn’t have left without even paying for the fucking salmon!”

Giles stared at her, and felt suddenly, horribly miserable. This is the woman I love, said a small, terrible voice in the back of his head, and she is looking at me like I’m the bane of her existence. “You’re right,” he said, and pulled out his wallet. “How much?”

The furious expression on Jenny’s face flickered. “Rupert, no,” she said.

“No, I’m serious,” said Giles. His hands trembled as he opened his wallet, fingers fluttering over the small compartment that still held an old picture of her. “How much was that salmon?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Jenny. She sounded just as tired and sad as he felt. “Just—look, I can get home on my own, okay?”

“If your car’s broken down—”

“My car’s not broken down,” said Jenny, and turned on her heel, heading in the direction of her Bug. It took Giles a moment to realize what that might mean, and another moment to decide that he wasn’t going to follow her. This felt like the natural ending to things, he thought; whatever it was she’d been trying to accomplish, she wasn’t going to try and do it again.

She did.

The third time it happened was with another of Joyce’s friends, because ever since Joyce had found out exactly why Giles and Jenny had broken up, she’d all but thrown herself into finding him a lovely single lady friend to rebound with. Surprisingly, she had taken the setback with Maura in stride, saying with a light laugh that Maura was a little hard to handle anyway, and today Giles was out with a woman named Stacie who talked a mile a minute. He rather liked that quality in a person, even if it became difficult at times to get a word in edgewise.

“I don’t know if I personally believe in magic,” she was saying, “but the concept has, at the very least, always fascinated me. There’s something a little wonderful about imagining a world where logical improbabilities can just be called magic, you know? I used to go to a lot of magic shows when I was in college—I was dating a magician, long story—and the whole rabbit-in-a-hat thing was always just so cute to me, though you mentioned things that sound more in the tarot-cards-and-tea-leaves vein of magic, right?”

“Yes,” said Giles, who had completely forgotten what, if anything, he had mentioned.

“That’s pretty wonderful too!” Stacie beamed. She had a rather nice smile, Giles thought, and the fact that this date wasn’t a complete and utter disaster was making him feel a bit more optimistic about his romantic prospects. There wasn’t much of a romantic spark, but at the very least, things weren’t as going as catastrophically terrible as they had with Maura—

And that was when Jenny, walking by their table, very deliberately poured half a bottle of red wine onto Giles’s suit jacket. Stacie, in the middle of chattering away about her friend who read tarot cards, hadn’t noticed Jenny tilt the bottle just enough to spill it, but Giles had, and it shone a very new light on Jenny’s actions. Jenny mysteriously showing up and claiming that she had reserved Giles and Olivia’s table, Jenny’s car breaking down right outside the diner Giles and Maura were at, and now this—

“Oh no,” Jenny gasped, and to her credit, she really did manage to make her remorseful expression look relatively believable. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” said Giles through gritted teeth.

Stacie had stopped talking, eyes wide. “Oh no,” she said. “Red wine stains, Rupert, and you were just telling me that the washing machine in your house is broken—”

The washing machine in Giles’s house was broken because, two days before Jenny had moved out, she had tried to do a load herself and broken it. There was no way that Jenny’s wine spill hadn’t accounted for this fact. “It’s fine,” Giles said again. “Really, I-I’d hate to miss what you have to say on, on tarot cards and the like. You were talking about your friend Camille?”

“The washing machine in your house is broken?” Jenny echoed. “Look, you can see this lovely lady any time you want,” she directed a huge smile at Stacie, who beamed, “but laundry waits for no man. I think you should get those clothes to a Laundromat as soon as you possibly can.”

“Honestly, Jenny, I really think—” Giles began.

Stacie cocked her head, frowning. “Jenny?” she echoed. “How do you know her name?”

“I’m his ex-fiancée,” said Jenny, giving Stacie another huge smile.

That was it. “Stacie,” said Giles, well aware that Stacie was probably never going to call him back after this, “I am extremely sorry. Jenny, I would appreciate your leaving. And for the record, I am not going to pay for the salmon.”

“What salmon?” said Stacie, whose big grin had now vanished entirely.

“That was from a different date,” said Jenny helpfully, and left.

Giles watched her go. “Where in God’s name did she get an entire bottle of red wine at this hour?” he said, turning back to Stacie with a semi-forced smile. “She really is—”

“Rupert,” said Stacie, not unkindly, “I really don’t think this is gonna work.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re a sweet guy,” said Stacie, “but Joyce mentioned you were going through a recent breakup, and it seems like she’s still a really big part of your life. I don’t think I can compete with that.”

“That’s not—” said Giles helplessly.

“Call me if you ever get over her, okay?” said Stacie, and leaned across the table to kiss Giles on the cheek. “I hope the wine doesn’t stain.” With that, she set a few bills down on the table, then hurried out of the restaurant, leaving Giles extremely frustrated.

It did make sense, he thought, that the one decent date he’d have would be with a woman smart enough to recognize his feelings for Jenny. He really might call Stacie back at some point, but he resented the fact that Jenny had ensured it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

The fourth time was because a striking fellow named Sebastian had seen Giles playing at the Espresso Pump and asked him out in that tentative, half-furtive way that gentlemen tended to do. Giles accepted, mostly because he rather liked the idea of getting to have a date unimpeded by Jenny, and they were halfway through dinner when Jenny showed up and said, “Rupert—”

And Giles snapped. Without a word, he stood up from the table and grabbed Jenny by the arm, towing her through the restaurant and out onto the sidewalk. Letting go of her, he stared at her, infuriated. “This stops,” he said. “Now.”

“I don’t know what—”

“You know exactly what,” Giles retorted. “I have gone on multiple dates, all in completely different locations, and you have ruined every single one of them.”

Jenny’s indignant expression faltered. She looked away.

“You were the one who ended this relationship, Jenny,” Giles retorted. “You told me you wanted us to avoid each other, you wanted time and space and a clean break, and I respected that—”

“I know.”

“You have no right to show up in my life to humiliate me repeatedly in front of other people, just so you can ruin even the slightest chance that I’ll be going home with someone who isn’t you—”

“I know,” said Jenny, and tugged herself free of his hand, falling against the building with an exhausted, defeated look on her face. “Okay? I know I’ve been…” She trailed off. “God, I don’t know the word for what I’ve been.”

“I hope you’re not about to try and justify it,” said Giles coolly.

“No,” said Jenny, “no, I don’t think—I don’t think I get to do that.” She stood up, a little wobbly on her thin heels, and Giles noticed she was wearing the dress that she had worn to the children’s senior prom nearly a year ago. She’d even done her hair the same way.

“You broke up with me,” he said, and couldn’t help his voice from softening. It didn’t bring him any joy to know that this was just as hard on Jenny as it was on him, but…he could at least understand parts of what she was feeling. “You can’t try and win me back, Jenny. That’s not how that works.”

Jenny nodded, and nodded again. “Yeah,” she said.

“If you want to get back together,” Giles began, then stopped, thinking of Sebastian at the table and his own half-finished plate of pasta. “If you want to get back together,” he said, “it won’t be tonight, and it won’t be easy, and—and you’re going to have to tell me—”

“I don’t know how to do that,” said Jenny helplessly. “You proposed to me and I said no without even thinking. I don’t want to go back to that.”

Giles stopped. Slowly, he said, “Jenny, did you break up with me to avoid talking about what that proposal meant?”

Jenny didn’t answer. She drew her arms into her chest, looking down at her scuffed-up high heels.

Giles exhaled. “Whatever it is,” he said, “this won’t—it won’t sustain itself if you can’t just talk to me.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “And you don’t need to win me back, all right?” he said, quiet and tired. “You’ve won me a thousand times over, darling. You’ve won.” Letting his hand drop, he turned and headed back into the restaurant, unable to look over his shoulder. If he looked back, he knew he would fall into her arms, and that wasn’t the right thing for either of them.

The fifth time wasn’t a date in the strictest sense, but the more inebriated Giles got, the closer he came to thinking of it as one. This year had been awash in nostalgia and loneliness, and the fact that Ethan was still the same after all these years (still wanted him after all these years) had much more sway on Giles than it probably should have. Things were comfortingly blurry around the edges, and Ethan kept on touching Giles’s hand in a lingering, purposeful way, and Giles thought he might take Ethan home. That would be nice. His home was very lonely and it felt two degrees too cold because Jenny had done something slightly magical to the central heating during that heat wave last spring and Giles didn’t know how to fix it.

“We should go,” Ethan suggested, giving Giles a small, slow smile. “After you’ve finished—” and he nodded to Giles’s latest drink, the one that had arrived when Giles had stepped out to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He didn’t mind being drunk, but some sobriety was required if he and Ethan were going to—that is, Ethan wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy, and—

“Hey,” said a voice. “Hey.”

“Oh, look!” said Ethan, tilting his head up to grin broadly at whoever had just come up to their table. “Ripper, look, it’s that bird who wouldn’t marry you!”

God, Giles was glad he was drunk. “Jenny,” he said, and turned to look at her. She was lit up by the glow of the terrible, barely-working lightbulb behind them, and she was wearing that soft grey sweater he’d pulled off her after the Ascension. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.

“Ethan?” said Jenny. “Leave.”

“I’m Ripper’s moral support,” said Ethan seriously. “Also we’re going to go off and shag later.”

“Great,” said Jenny. “Cool. Well, can I talk to Rupert for a second outside before you two go off and shag?”

Ethan seemed to seriously consider the question, something that he probably wouldn’t have done had he not consumed an ungodly amount of alcohol. Giles decided to answer it for him. “M not going anywhere with you,” he informed Jenny. “You don’t want me, remember? You just want to show up and bollocks up all my dates.”

“Yep,” said Jenny. “That is exactly why I am taking you away from the drunk warlock who almost got Buffy killed on two separate occasions.”

“Thank you,” said Giles, gratified that she had admitted to her wrongdoing, and reached for the beer on the table. Jenny reached forward, trying to grab it from him, and Giles’s attempt to grab it back ended up spilling it all over Ethan, who jumped back with a screech as though he’d been burned. “S’ just beer,” said Giles, a laugh in his voice.

“It’s part of a spell!” Ethan objected with alarm. “S’posed to turn you into a Fyarl demon!” He blinked, then winced. “Fuck.”

Giles looked at Ethan, looked at Jenny, and felt a profound sense of exhausted heartbreak. Nothing ever really changed, did it? There were always strings attached, whether it was with Ethan or with Jenny. Jenny was here to ruin his date, and Ethan was here to fuck him up and fuck him over and fuck him in the process. “I should like twelve to seventeen more beers,” he informed a passing waitress.

“Cancel that,” said Jenny to the waitress, tugging at Giles’s shoulder. She smelled like lavender.

“You smell like lavender,” said Giles, letting her pull him out of the restaurant. He stopped a few feet away from the door, then slumped against the wall, staring out at the half-empty parking lot. “I’m going to be alone forever,” he said.

“You are very drunk,” said Jenny tightly. “Come on.”

“Jenny, I should have hidden the ring away and never asked you,” Giles told her. “It was my fault. I should have known—you were always scared of that sort of thing, you hid in a linen closet in my family’s mansion rather than meet my mum for the first time—I didn’t need to marry you, you know that, don’t you? I just wanted you to know, that, that it could happen if you wanted it—”

“You’re gonna be so mad at me if I tell you I miss you while you’re drunk off your ass,” Jenny whispered. “Please don’t make me tell you how much I miss you, Rupert, okay?”

Through the fog of alcohol and general misery, Giles recognized only that Jenny was hurting. Clumsily, he tugged on her hand, then pulled her into his arms, closing his eyes. He felt her hands grip the lapels of his jacket, felt her cheek against his shoulder, and how many times had they stood just like this? “You know I love you, Janna-Jenny-Jen,” he whispered.

Jenny sniffled. Then she said, “We have to go home, okay?”

“It’s too cold at home,” Giles told her. “You did that thing to the heating system and I don’t know how to fix it—”

“I’ll fix it, just, just, let’s go home,” said Jenny, pulling away from him and scrubbing at her face. She started walking in the direction of her car, except Giles didn’t follow—Giles didn’t want to follow her. She turned. “Rupert?”

“I don’t want to keep walking,” said Giles, staring at her and thinking about—dancing with her that first time, the way her hair fell out of its updo and her blue-and-black sweater bunched under his hands. “I don’t want to walk back home and go to bed alone, Jenny. I loved you so much, I don’t know why—I don’t know what I did wrong.” He swallowed, eyes bright. “I’d do it all over again if I knew how to fix what I did wrong.”

Jenny shook her head, fast and hard, dark hair flying out like a storm cloud. “Absolutely not,” she said, fierce and horribly sad. “No, okay? You didn’t do a single fucking thing wrong, and you know it. This one’s on me.”

“Nothing’s on you,” said Giles, taking a stumbling step forward and gripping her elbow to brace himself.

“You’re really drunk, Rupert, please don’t start a conversation you won’t even remember—”

“Tell me again in the morning, then,” said Giles very softly. “Tell me why I’m wrong and you’re right and you’re the only reason you left.” His chest felt tight with longing. “Tell me.”

Looking away from him, Jenny took his hand again, tugging him the rest of the way to the car.

Giles woke up on his couch with a headache and a distinct sense of regret. The house was the right temperature, which struck him as odd, and then a flicker of memory came back to him—holding Jenny outside a seedy bar downtown, her face buried in his chest. But that couldn’t be right. He’d been out with Ethan last night, hadn’t he?

“Hey.”

Giles almost fell off the couch. “Don’t do that,” he gasped, staring at Jenny, who was…wearing one of his button-downs, the way she’d always done on lazy weekends when she didn’t want to get dressed. She was holding a glass of water, and she looked gently disheveled, and he missed her so much it hurt.

Jenny nodded. Tentatively, she said, “Do you remember what happened last night?”

“I assume Ethan tried to poison me,” said Giles, letting his head fall back against the couch cushions. “That or turn me into a demon. It’s what usually happens when we go out drinking, though it was much more entertaining when we were young and in love.” He’d meant to say young and stupid, but that had slipped out instead, and something about it made him feel strangely better. He’d gotten over Ethan, hadn’t he?

You never proposed to Ethan, though, said that same terrible voice in the back of his head.

Jenny sat down in front of him, holding out the glass of water. Giles took it. “That pretty much sums it up,” she said. She hesitated, then said, “I don’t think I ever gave you a real apology for the horrible way I’ve been acting these last few weeks. I really think you deserve one.”

“It’s fine,” said Giles.

“It’s not,” said Jenny firmly.

Giles took a second look at her. The half-manic glint in her eyes, the one that had been present every time she’d crashed all of his dates, had faded to a tired sadness that he didn’t know how he’d missed before. “Jenny,” he said, “I meant what I said. I still want to be with you.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Jenny, and scooted closer to him on the floor, resting her head against his leg. “I wanna be with you too.”

It didn’t feel like all that much of a revelation. Giles handed her the water, and she took it, taking a sip herself. “So what now?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Jenny quietly. “I think I probably stop crashing your dates, and you maybe hit up Olivia again. Or that Stacie chick, she seems nice—”

“Jenny,” said Giles.

Jenny looked up at him, her mouth trembling. “I don’t wanna get married,” she said. “Not now. Maybe not ever. I never liked the idea as a kid and I don’t think I can like it even if it’s you, and I hate that. I don’t think it makes me any less of a person, but I don’t like that it’s something I might not be able to give you.”

“Relationships are always about compromise,” said Giles softly. “What on earth would make you think that marriage is a non-negotiable for me?”

“Because—” Jenny stopped, then sniffled, resting her head against his leg again. Giles reached down, carding his fingers through her hair. “Because it should be,” she said, almost childishly.

Giles smiled a bit wryly, sliding down to sit next to her on the floor (and doing his best to ignore hangover-related aches and pains). He set down the glass of water on the coffee table, reached up to tilt her face towards his, and kissed her.

It felt like the right decision, kissing her, especially when she kissed him back, raising her hands to tangle them in his hair. Every part of this felt shockingly simple, and it made him want to laugh; they were just so bad at this. He pulled away, cupping her face in his hands, and she bumped her nose against his. “You know we could have saved each other a lot of trouble if—” he murmured.

“I know,” said Jenny miserably. “And that’s kinda the other thing. I’m not good at talking these things out. Generally I just pull back from relationships when things get too real, but…” She kissed him again, then let her forehead fall against his.

“You never did that with me,” Giles finished.

“Yeah,” said Jenny.

“Well, you’re doing it now,” Giles pointed out.

Jenny exhaled, almost a laugh. “Yeah,” she said again. “Yeah, and…a lot of it is because of what you said last night.”

Giles thought back, finding only a few hazy memories. “That you smell like lavender?”

Jenny really did laugh at that, which warmed Giles. “That you didn’t know what you did wrong,” she said, her voice softening. “And—Rupert, you, you have to know that you didn’t do a single thing wrong, okay? This was all me having an extended meltdown and doing my best to drag you down with me.”

“You give yourself too much credit,” said Giles. “I went out drinking with my ex-boyfriend who has a history of poisoning people for laughs.”

“Still,” said Jenny.

Giles smiled a bit. “So what do you want to say?” he asked gently.

Jenny’s wobbly grin faded. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Really, I am. I can make excuses for the rest of the day, but that won’t change the fact that what I did hurt you. I know I want to be with you, but after the mess of these last few months, I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Giles shook his head. “I’m not asking for an apology, Jenny,” he said. “I’m asking for you to tell me if my proposal has changed things between us in any way.”

“I feel like it should have—”

“But has it?”

Jenny smiled again. “No,” she said. “No, I—I still love you just as much, Rupert. None of that’s changed. I just…” She trailed off, biting her lip. “I was scared things would have changed for you,” she said. “You’re traditional, and British, and adorably romantic, and when you commit to something, you commit. I mean, god, the way you care about Buffy and those kids! I know I’m not the marrying type, but I also know that you soare.”

“I’m not the marrying type, Jenny,” said Giles firmly. “I’m the commitment type. It’s certainly easier to express through marriage, but all I wanted to establish is that I want you with me for the long haul.”

“That freaks me out,” said Jenny matter-of-factly.

“And that is perfectly fine, all right?” Giles kissed her again, very gently. “That doesn’t make me think any less of you. Understand?”

Jenny stared at him for a long moment, then said, very emphatically, “God, I am an idiot!” Giles tilted his head, smiling in agreement. “Shut up,” said Jenny, a sobbing laugh in her voice, “shut up shut up shut up,” and pulled him into a fiercely passionate kiss.

“You all owe me so much money!” Buffy shouted triumphantly at the next Scooby meeting. “Faith, fork over ten dollars, you said they’d stay broken up for six months. Willow, you said a year, that’s five dollars. Xander, you dumbass, you bet twenty bucks on them never getting back together, that was such a bad investment—”

“I bet twenty-five on three months,” Joyce reminded Buffy mildly, refilling her glass of lemonade.

“You sent Giles on all those bad dates,” said Buffy, “that so doesn’t count—”

“Those were…bad dates?” said Giles.

“Joyce,” said Jenny.

“Don’t Joyce me,” said Joyce reprovingly, “I didn’t spill red wine all over Rupert just to make a point.”

“Those were bad dates,” Giles repeated disbelievingly.

“We’re really stupid,” said Jenny, who was holding his hand. “Really, really stupid.”

“I am going to buy new boots,” said Buffy, and gave Giles a friendly shoulder punch. “So when are you two getting married?”

“Never,” said Giles, and tugged a grinning Jenny into his side.

[skeletorific]

Toxic Relationship Headcanons

Its time for aaaaaaangst

So I was spitballing this with @with-a-whisper a few days back and decided on a whim to publish them. Essentially I’ve decided to break down how a relationship with each of teh bros could end up being potentially toxic and harmful to both parties, as well as the steps that might be needed to help rebuild. Because we can’t always be happy damn it

Also please note, guys, if the relationships you are in have these qualities it may be time to have a serious talk with the other person. And while I believe that a lot of relationships can genuinely be salvaged if both partners are willing to put in the effort, if your partner is unwilling or nothing is changing you may need to get out.

UT!Sans: He definitely needs someone a little more comfortable with themselves and who's able to draw any kind of vulnerability or honesty out of him. Bonus points if they're particularly good at telling when he's faking being okay. So to prevent a break his partner would need to understand that even when he pushes it away he genuinely kind of wants someone to force him to articulate how he's actually feeling. In order for it to start devolving, his partner would either have to stop trying to reach out or make themselves the center of every emotional crisis. Either option is ignoring his feelings or assuming he doesn't have any. When he beings to feel like his emotions are unwelcome or unimportant he will more than happily begin to shut down, because after all, its easier than confronting the hot mess he is most of the time. His smiles are all faked these days and he will rarely, if ever be open with you

Patch: You need to listen  to him. This is harder than it sounds, getting Sans to be honest emotionally when he’s felt like he can’t be is like pulling teeth. ITs a slow process of rebuilding trust, of asking him questions about how he is every day no mattter how much he evades the question. If he feels like you really mean it, he can eventually warm back up to you

UT!Papyrus needs someone who won't overly-indulge him and provide some grounding but who is also quite generous with praise, especially for things that he desperately wants/needs to be praised for. He believes you entirely, but that has to go both ways at some point. Papyrus wants your validation, he wants to know that he’s important to you. This can be a little needy, and it only gets worse if he senses he’s starting to annoy you. It enourages him to ramp up his antics adn constantly strive for your approval, whih only annoys you further. If this keeps going he will be constanty on edge and in deep denial. He’ll insist that of ourse he’s happy but he’s so disappointed, trying to greet you with a smile but you never return it. He won’t break up with you, he’s convince that it has to be his fault somehow, and so he stays on. Feeling like more and more of a burden as time goes by

Patch: In order to patch up a break a good method is you have to try and match at least half of his compliments to you. He doesn’t honestly need that much, but strong signs of approval send him over the moon. He’s not as sensitive as you might think but he does need to know that deep down you really do enjoy him and his company. As you grow to a healthier place you can then begin to work on his compliment dependence.

UF!Sans needs a balance of someone who will call him out on his shit and someone who he can genuinely have a good time with and not be constantly on edge. On the one hand you need to be able to tell him no, to draw a line when his reckless behavior gets too unsafe. On the other you need a good sense of humor, as well oas a lot of patience for when he does fuck up. He’s good about apologizing, you just have to let him do it on his own terms. If you never reel him in he will trample over you and likely drag you both down with him. Drinking binges, trashing your house, forgetting dates, all that gross stuff. And He will apologize, but if you keep acting like its no big deal....it kind of starts to bug him. Why aren’t you bothered? Do you just not care that much about this relationship? Should he be treating this as casual too? Eventually he stops apologizing and does whatever the fuck he wants until you finally kick him out.On the other end, if you’re constantly snapping at him and he can’t do a thing right for you....in all likelihood he’ll break up with you. At the very least he’ll be on edge and likely tend to be hypercritical of your every move as well. Not so fun when its your fuck ups being pointed out, is it? Both of you get increasingly petty and its just bad to be around.

 Patch: it depends on which end of the spectrum is failing. If you're hitting him too hard to shape up you have to relax a little, let him live (this is also most likely to end the relationship before patching up even begins). If you're not calling him out enough in the end you just kind of need to toughen up and yell at him when he's really being a dick. He'll resist it and roll his eyes but he does take what you say into consideration if he thinks its reasonable.

UF!Papyrus just genuinely needs someone with a backbone. Someone who won’t talke all of his “Master of the Universe” bullshit lying down. Don’t get me wrong, Boss nags because he cares. He genuinely wants you to lead a healthy life. But don’t just coast and let him make all your choices for you, he’ll stop seeing you as a person and more as a puppet that he can move however he wants. So if the time ever comes that he makes a choice for you that genuinely bothers you, he’s going to be furious when you try and defy him. He’ll start punishing you for going against him. Don’t get excited sinners, not the fun kind. He’ll ignore your texts for days or start lecturing you in public. Like, trying to make you cry He tells himself its tough love, and if you ever remove yourself he won’t stalk you or hurt you. but its not good.  

 Patch: His breaks are the hardest to fix because if you've devolved into toxicity you've let him order you around for too long and its a lot of backtracking to where you can finally get him to listen to you again. You need to stand up to him whenever and wherever he's crossed the line, even if you don't want to make a fuss. If you keep it up he can eventually start to take it to heart. He wouldn’t be dating you if deep down he didn’t honestly respect  you

US!Sans (Despite not being an angel) is kind of hard to trigger an unhealthy relationship in because he  is really good at keeping up a bright and happy front but he, like Tale Sans, tends to suffer if his partner constantly needs to be the center of attention. His s/o will never likely be ignored but people with a tendency for drama tend to pull him into their spiral because he wants to help them overcome their problems but they don't seem to want to solve them. In an unhealthy relationship he'll be pulling away, emptying himself out and kind of going through the motions more than ever. 

Patch A patch up would just be focusing some attention on him. He doesn't even need that much, you just need to not need to be the Center of the Universe At All Times. 

 US!Papyrus needs someone who's willing to call him out too, but gently. He hates being ordered around and will just avoid you if he feels like you're trying to control him unnecessarily. However just quick reminders that "hey, that kind of makes me uncomfortable, just a heads up" are usually enough of to set him on the right track. An unhealthy relationship with Stretch is a matter of time. Its a lot of small errors that snowball on itself.  He will constantly be going behind your back to do whatever he wants and will likely be pushing your buttons as far as he can because it feels like its the only way he gets a reaction out of you anymore. He also has a tendency to gaslight his partners when he thinks he can get away with it

Patch: A patch usually involves a pretty intense confrontation that directly takes him to task on his lack of honesty. It'll be unpleasant but its what needs to be done. This, however, is easier said than done, since Stretch is a master at sidestepping conversations he doesn’t want to have. Tie him down if you have to. And if he is genuinely uninterested in changing....you may just have to break it off.

SF!Sans devolves in at least partial toxicity more often than not. Keeping him on the straight and narrow is a complex matter. It requires a lot of patience and a lot of stubbornness because he will take control wherever you let him and it Will Not End Well. That said, once you've made some progress you can usually get him to take the next steps entirely on his own. He has a tendency to be very derisive of his partners and struggle to make them genuinely feel loved This isn’t because he doesn’t feel strongly, but because expressing those kinds of emotions are life-threatening where he comes from and he has no idea how to do it anymore. 

 Patch: There is no single patch that works every single time, but you will have to separate for a while. He will be in a place where he cannot and should not be around you physically, and you may want to avoid calling him for a while. Your absence makes him realize that he still cares about you , not just for what you can do for him, but as a person. Where it goes from there is up to you.

SF!Papyrus: he's pretty easy to track. The worse place he's in a relationship the more his substance abuse kicks up. Alcohol, weed, jacking off, sleeping at all hours of the day, pretty much anything that lets him escape. He starts losing track of his responsibilities even to Sans and you've picked him up out of a puddle of his own piss and vomit more often than you've kissed him good night the past 4 months.  What Rus needs is someone who can give  him the space he needs but still lets him know that they need him. Worse than anything is the idea that he's failing you. This behavior tends to pop up more frequently when you've just been injured or have been having a rough patch of fights because he feels like he's tying you down, and so self-destructively is making himself more incapable of being a good boyfriend in the hopes that maybe you'll leave him 

Patch: Like his brother its usually a somewhat lengthy process but what he needs more than anything is just firm support. Don't be a doormat, keep him away from his substances as best you can and get Black to help with that, but let him know that you're here for him and you always will be. Keep asking him to do little things for you, it makes him feel needed and wanted around. Its a process of months depending on how long he's been spiralling but he's pulled himself out of it before, and with your help, he'll hopefully do it again. 

[invaded-identity]

50 Powerful Questions That Can Help You Identify The Signs Of Emotional Abuse

By Shahida Arabi, March 28th 2018 (https://tcat.tc/2pJokd0)

TW: Emotional/psychological/narcisstic abuse, coersion, general crappy-human-being shit

1. Does your partner enjoy humiliating you in public?

Not especially. Nothing stands out in my memory. I am often the butt of jokes, though. 

2. What is the worst way in which your partner has used your own insecurities against you?

Telling me that I was going to fail at my future career. Triangulating with other women to make me feel bad about myself and my appearance.

3. Do you find that the way your partner treated you in the beginning of the relationship is unrecognizable from the way your partner treats you now?

I can’t even remember. We were so young, and it was 8-10 years ago. But yes, I do suppose it was very different. 

4. How often does your partner make you feel sorry for them after mistreating you?

Every single time. It seems that everything is always my fault. 

5. Are you persistently made to feel guilty for voicing your concerns in the relationship?

Absolutely. In his mind, we would work out if I would just “try,” and if I would “stop living in the past.”

6. Does your partner shame you about qualities or traits you have that they once praised?

I think so. I think at one point he appreciated my independence, wit, and opinions--or at least he acted that way. Now my only option is to agree with him, and never use sarcasm in any way that he decides makes him look stupid. 

7. Does your partner shut down conversations about their behavior before they even have a chance to begin?

Yes. 

8. Is your partner nicer and more respectful to others in public than they are to you behind closed doors?

Absolutely.

9. When your partner gives you the silent treatment, do they usually explain themselves or do they continue to ignore you and come back only to pretend like nothing ever happened?

Yes and no. Typically, there is an expectation that he will speak to me once I’ve apologized for what I’ve done to him. Though he does pretend like nothing happened in other situations. 

10. Does your partner continuously claim that you’re too sensitive when you express your emotions?

No. He doesn’t verbalize that. He just gets angry when I express emotions and assumes that I’m wrongfully upset at him. 

11. Do you find yourself questioning your own reality on a daily basis?

Not so much anymore, but yes. Typically my memory.

12. Have you been made to doubt things that you know for a fact your partner has said or done?

Yes. I caught him cheating twice, and he continued to deny it, call me paranoid, and change the subject.

13. Does your partner call you names when he or she doesn’t get their way?

Yep. Cunt, bitch, ass hole, whatever else. 

14. Are you afraid to express your true feelings around your partner because of the way they’ve reacted to you in the past?

Yes.

15. Do you feel like your accomplishments are belittled, ignored or minimized by your partner?

100% every time. Typically ignored altogether. 

16. How often are you made to feel insecure and invisible when your partner engages in conversations with people of the opposite sex?

Most of his friends are women, though I’m not sure he’s interested in a romantic sense, but pretty much always, unless they are a mutual friend. 

17. Does your partner frequently compare you to others in a demeaning way in terms of appearance, personality, success or any other aspect of yourself they like to criticize?

Yes, it has happened. 

18. Do you feel like you’re always walking on eggshells around this person, careful what to say or do just to avoid “offending” them?

Yes. I feel like I exist in an eggshell when he is around. 

19. Does the way your partner looks at or talks about other women or men (whoever they are attracted to) make you feel uncomfortable?

Yeah. He can be really gross sometimes, he’s also started kind of leering at women. I suppose he’s better than other men, but it's still gross. 

20. Has your partner reminded you of how lucky you are to have them, usually after an outburst?

Yep, something to the effect of “you aren’t going to find anything better, this is as good as it gets.”

21. Does your partner have frequent rage attacks when their ego is threatened?

Every time.

22. If you call out your partner’s behavior, do they become excessively angry?

I don’t usually anymore, mostly because I don’t care enough and I’m just biding my time (12 days), but before, when I wanted to salvage the relationship--yes. 

23. Are you allowed to ever point out your partner’s mistakes, even in a light-hearted manner?

No, no, no. He is beyond reproach. 

24. How often does your partner make you feel ashamed about qualities and accomplishments you used to be proud of?

Honestly, it’s been so long that I don’t remember the qualities I used to be proud of. I’m starting to find qualities that I’m proud of currently. The one I can think of is my independence.

25. Do you find yourself apologizing for things you’re not at fault for in the relationship?

All the time. 

26. Has your partner ever compared you to others and made you feel as if you were in ‘competition’ with other people for their attention and love?

Yep. I’ve been told, “I have N___, I don’t need you for that anymore.”

27. Do you find yourself apologizing for the mistakes that your partner made but refuses to own up to?

No. He taught me long ago that this is a big no-no. I am not to apologize on his behalf. Big fight. 

28. How many times has your partner accused you of having flaws that they themselves possess?

I don’t see this so much. Maybe that I’m antisocial and standoffish. 

29. In what ways has your partner turned the things you used to enjoy doing into things you dread doing?

Hmm...like everything? Sex definitely. Though I’ve only been with him, I couldn’t stand it the last 6 months or so. I’m glad I don’t have to anymore--with him anyway. I miss sex in general at this point, though I’m not sure I’ve ever had good sex. 

30. How does your body react when you’re around your partner?

Ohh good question. I think I tense up, try to make myself small. Try to shrink into the wall. 

31. Do you feel overly anxious when you think about how your partner treats you?

No, not really. We’ve been fighting so much lately, and I’ve been standing up for myself, so I feel sort of desensitized at this point. But yes, I have in the past. Now I just don’t care. 

32. How many ways have you wasted time trying to please your partner, only to learn that they are never satisfied with anything you do?

Every way. Almost every time. Only now he brings up the nice things I did--notes, gifts, traveling hundreds of miles every week-as the expectation for how he should be treated. At the time it was nothing, and never enough. 

33. In what ways do you feel you have to ask permission from your partner before you do something?

I asked permission to get an iPhone instead of a Samsung. What to cook for dinner. When to visit my family. Anything really. 

34. Have you ever gotten the sense that your partner is envious and hateful when you’re happy and successful?

I can’t pinpoint an example. But yes.

35. Does your partner seem happy when you’re in pain?

I would say no. But he definitely did seem to be happier with me when I was deeply depressed. Part of this was likely because I was so passive to his wants and needs, but I also feel like he has this romanticized view of depression. He sees himself as a savior. But he was mad that he couldn’t “make me happy.”

36. Does your partner often comfort you, come to the rescue and ‘play the savior’ for the pain that they themselves caused?

Omg ^^ Not so much anymore though. 

37. Do you find that your partner gives you more negative feedback and criticism about yourself than they do encouragement?

I’m not sure the last time I was encouraged to do something. Maybe last year when I wanted to get on medication, he was very encouraging of that. He continued to encourage it after I decided it wasn’t for me. 

38. Has your partner punished you for making choices independent of their opinion?

Yes. 

39. Have you ever felt limited in your ability to see your loved ones because of your partner?

Yep. Though I can’t entirely blame it all on him--I spent no time with my mom for most of the high school and the entirety of undergrad. I only went home to sleep. 

40. How frequently does your partner call or text you to “check in” when you’re not with them?

I never realized he did this. He’s very needy and can only go so long without attention. Usually, he’ll call me and then one or both of his parents. It never occurred to me that he was checking in because the conversation was always about him, but that would have made sense too. 

41. Has your partner ever coerced you into sexual activities you weren’t comfortable with?

Most of the time lately. I’ve never felt comfortable saying no. When we were younger he would sit and pout and throw a fit and act “bored.” I had to initiate sex. For years he never did. It was always me chasing after him--even if I didn’t want it. If I didn’t ask him, he would get angry and treat me badly. Lately, it was just easier to pay the piper the first time, because if I demurred he would just come back a few hours later, and usually wouldn’t take a no then. At least this way I had some control. He never seemed to care that I was clearly not interested ahead of time, but got mad when I wasn’t enthusiastic during or afterward. 

42. Has your partner ever made you feel guilty for not having sex with them?

Yes.

43. Do you fear leaving your partner, out of the fear that they might harm you or harm themselves?

No. I fear the chaos, badgering, and terrorism.

44. Does your partner discourage you from pursuing dreams or goals that would make you independent of them?

Not so much. I pursued my education and career which is now allowing me to get free of him. I think he just saw it as I would have a good job and could contribute a decent amount of money to the relationship. 

45. How often do you feel like you’re pleading for your partner’s affection or attention?

Never now. But in the past, it was all the time. 

46. How many times has your partner insulted you and made you feel terrible, all while claiming “it was just a joke”?

None that come to mind, but I know it happened. 

47. Have you been told you’re too sensitive when you start setting boundaries with your partner?

Not sensitive. Generally just that I don’t care enough and I’m selfish. 

48. When your partner is acting kind, does it seem out of place with the way they usually act?

Uh not necessarily. He vacillates between kind and pissed so frequently that its just part of his bull shit. 

49. Does your partner treat you tenderly and affectionately one second, only to pull back and coldly withdraw?

Yes, when he wants to he’s affectionate, but when he doesn’t its nothing. 

50. When your partner tells you they love you, do you have a hard time believing them because the way they act is anything but loving?

He hasn’t told me he loves me in over a year when he discarded me. I think this is because he now expects me to tell him first, and then he might say it. That is my responsibility--but I don’t feel that way. I do have a hard time believing him when he talks about wanting to make the relationship work. He just wants me to do shit for him. 

[parsonsjessica1989]

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[emmaswanchoosesyou]

Part of the Narrative (2/17)

Emma Swan just wants to write the follow-up to her bestselling debut novel, that’s all. But when she gets off to a rough start with her new editor, Killian Jones, she knows it’s not going according to plan. Then, an unexpected figure from Emma’s past reappears and life begins to mirror the crime thriller she’s penning. Suspicion and secrets abound–but love might too. A writer/editor AU with a thriller twist.

Rated E. Story warnings: sexual content, kidnapping, some gore, violence, and minor character death–not to mention salty language! On Ao3 here.

Chapter warnings: swearing and plotting. 

First, a huge thank you to @sambethe, who is the best beta I could have ever asked for. And to @shady-swan-jones for the delightful banner. @bleebug did some incredible art for the first chapter, which you can check out here. Also, a huge thank you to @captainswanbigbang and everyone modding that for their tireless effort over the last 6+ months. Finally, to everyone who read, reblogged, liked, etc.--I was blown away and THANK YOU. Tagging @lenfaz and anyone else who asks me to!

Ch. 1

Chapter 2

Killian knows he has to fix things with Emma so they can work together, but that’s not the whole story.

Killian

Killian all but hit his head against the desk when Emma stomped out of his office. Fuck. This was...not good.

Bloody understatement of the year.

She didn’t deserve his behavior. He had meant what he said--he did think her work needed some polish, but she was a brilliant lass, and her debut novel had been excellent. She was impressive for her talent alone. To say nothing of her fiery passion and startling good looks.

God, he hadn’t been prepared for that. He’d been so distracted by her golden hair and solemn, intense green eyes he’d barely remembered how to function. Clearly, he hadn’t remembered how to keep his words in check, if that cringe-worthy excuse of a meeting was any indication. August was not going to be happy when he filled him in on this development.

When he’d met August Booth a few years before, he’d dismissed the man’s offer to come work at his fairly new publishing house. August and his partner, Regina Mills (a pseudo-royal figure in the publishing world), had just gotten it started and off the ground, and while they were pulling in excellent talent, Killian was happy to remain in London. Plus, the Boston location didn’t appeal. If he were going to relocate to the US, he really would prefer to end up in New York, the real center of the publishing world.

But then everything had gone to shit.

It had started with that damned publicity tour for the Royal Navy. He’d been recruited after graduating from uni, drowning in debt and getting his start in the cutthroat world of publishing and public relations. Liam was an officer and said he’d look out for him. He’d quickly been snapped up and promoted within the PR division for the Navy. (“Just think, your face and the pathos of brotherly love...the country will eat this up.”) It had gone well enough, grueling if a bit dull.

Then they’d sent him out on tour on his brother’s ship. The first part had been grand. Getting to spend time with Liam every day was amazing, a feat they hadn’t reliably managed in years. It had been smooth sailing of the literal and metaphorical sort, until the explosion.  

The work of terrorists or saboteurs--the Navy was never too clear about the results of their investigation. At any rate, the tragedy had claimed Liam’s life, and Killian had lost his hand. His increasing bitterness against his country had obviously rendered him a poor choice for continuing his career in PR for the Royal Navy. They’d released him with a generous settlement, on the condition he not badmouth them to every reporter who came along.

He’d done well enough at the keeping quiet bit for a while, until trouble had found him in the form of Milah Smythe. She was tenacious, his Milah. She was a journalist for The Independent, and she’d tracked him down and tried to tease out his tale for a story she was working on. She had succeeded in doing so...after three dates and a passionate night.

She’d come clean to him the next day about her job. He’d been angry, devastated that the first person he’d felt a connection to since Liam’s death was trying to use him. Then she apologized, telling him she had no intention of using his interview for her story, that the attraction between the two of them was worth more than that to her.

Killian remembered the next year and a half in perfect detail. The laughter over dinners and lunches, the steadfast support they’d given each other. She had even gotten him back into the literary world by introducing him to an editor she knew.  The love that had grown between him and Milah was his cornerstone. He knew it was love on their first weekend away together, a brief trip to Cornwall. They’d moved in together after just a couple months, and he loved the bliss of waking up to her in his arms, greeted by her tousled hair and light snores, her teasing him over his sleep-talking.

He’d been eyeing rings--even had an appointment with a jeweler--when he’d gotten the phone call from the hospital. It had been one of those crazy things. Milah apparently had a heart condition no one had known about. It was completely unpredictable and her death instantaneous.

Suddenly, she was gone and he was alone again.

He’d climbed back into a bottle, and his work had suffered for it. He knew he was in trouble with his publishing house, so he’d done what he could to salvage it--he’d tried selling the story of what happened to him and Liam in the Navy.

The British government had been none too pleased, and when he found himself being followed by hulking men, he panicked. He dug out August’s number and asked him if the offer to come work for Mills & Booth was still good.

August had agreed to help him, and quickly, in exchange for a favor. The favor that would now be even more complicated than he’d thought.

Killian sighed. He’d had one job. (Well, two, since he was in fact an editor, regardless.) He needed to win Emma over, keep her pliable and complacent. And willing to go along with anything he or August suggested.

That was going to be...fun.

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. Somehow, someway, he was going to have to fix this.

&&&

Killian made his way down the hall to Cleo’s office. He had only known her by reputation prior to arriving at Mills & Booth, but so far all of the positive things he had heard seemed to be borne out. His meetings with her had been purely professional, but he recalled hearing that she had worked closely with Emma and her former editor. The couple of times they’d seen each other since his arrival had been pleasant enough, and he hoped she’d be able to help him.

He knocked on her closed door.

“Come in!” her voice rang out, in a clear, brusque tone.

Walking through the door, he dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Ms. Fox.”

“Mr. Jones,” she said, peering at him across the desk and motioning for him to take a seat. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to chat with you about Emma, if you have a moment,” he said, hoping there was enough humility in his posture she’d take pity on him.

Cleo looked impassive and unimpressed. “Quite a ruckus you all raised yesterday.”

He scratched the back of his ear self-consciously. “Er, indeed. About that…”

“I’m actually surprised it took you this long to make your way down here.”

Killian winced at the mild censure in her tone. “Sorry about that. I was unsure about the best way of handling, so I--”

She snorted. “So you went for the opposite of ‘handling it’ by doing nothing?”

“I thought maybe we just needed to cool down?”

A raised eyebrow was the only response he received.

Finally, he shrugged in defeat. “Look, truthfully, I’m not used to meeting that kind of resistance to my...suggestions.”

Cleo sighed. “What the hell did you suggest?!” She waved her hand before he could answer. “Never mind that right now, Emma was furious. I need to know what you intend to do about it.”

“Does...does she accept apology flowers?”

Cleo laughed. “The only time I’ve ever seen her accept a bouquet she threw it right into the trash.”

“Oh.”

“To be fair, they weren’t even hers. She thought they were, but turns out they were for poor Ariel,” she confided.

He let out a surprised chuckle. “Emma is a tough lass, isn’t she?”

“She is. And I’ll tell you more or less what I told her. You need to find a way to work with her. I don’t care if you think her writing is garbage--which it isn’t--but she’s one of our most successful authors, so you’ll keep an eye on her. Apologize, and get in good with her so you can bring out another bestseller from her.”

“I...yes,” he said. Sensing this brief interview was nearing its end, he got up. When he reached the doorway, he stopped. “One thing--how is it you weren’t assigned to work with her? It seems like it’d be an easier fit.”

She tilted her head. “A question I’ve wondered about, too.”

He paused a moment, wondering if she would elaborate. She didn’t so he nodded. “Well, then. I’ll do what I can.” He moved to exit the office.

“Killian?”

“Yes?”

“There’s a diner she likes. Out in West Roxbury. She worked there all the time on her first book. It’s called Granny’s.”

This time, his nod to Cleo was one of gratitude.

&&&

It took almost a day for him to work up the nerve to go to Granny’s and a further three and half days staking out the place before he contrived to “accidentally” run into Emma.

He had become very familiar with the greasy diner food, and the owner of the place knew him by name at this point. His insides hurt and he was overly caffeinated, but if his plan worked, it would be worth it.

On the Tuesday he finally saw Emma enter, Killian sat up higher. He was on his second cup of coffee, practically vibrating with the cursed fake energy that only came from caffeine.

She clearly had a destination in mind, and after a quick “Hey, Ruby,” she headed toward the back. Stopping only when she saw him, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You.”

“Aye, me. Lovely to see you, Miss Swan. I trust you’ve received my emails?”

She stared at him, seemingly contemplating his motives, his presence...probably his very existence, if Killian were honest with himself.

“Yeah. Sorry I haven’t responded. Haven’t figured out what I wanted to say yet.”

“Well, it appears we’re stuck working together, so...I’d like to smooth things over, if you’re amenable.” He gestured toward the other side of the booth.

“Nothing else to add to that, pal?” She cocked her head at him.

“Erm, sorry? I apologize for my words, though I stand by my methodology.”

She continued to stare at him a few beats before she slid into the booth. “That’s fine,” she said once she settled in, “but if you’re going to continue to be an ass, this isn’t going to work.”

“And it won’t work if you stubbornly resist everything I say.”

They exchanged wary looks, and Killian felt a pang of something a lot like loss at the thought that any flirtation seemed out of the question. He had enjoyed those fleeting moments when she first walked into his office and  had stared at him like he was a popsicle and it was a hot, hot day outside.

He intentionally leaned back, hoping he looked as confident as he wished he felt. “Well, if that’s settled, can I buy you a coffee? Or perhaps something stronger?”

“Why?”

“As a toast to our new partnership, Swan.”

She gave a deep sigh, “Fine. Get me a coffee, then.”

He gestured to the waitress and ordered them both coffee, his gut churning at the idea of consuming more of the stuff. As soon as the server poured their drinks, he found himself studying the dark roast, praying he could come up with an approach that worked with Emma.

“So, darling, what are some things I can do to make this collaboration more palatable to you?”

“For starters, don’t fucking call me darling. It’s condescending as hell, and the only thing it accomplishes is making me want to punch you.”

He snorted. “Very well, no more ‘darlings’. I’m assuming any other endearments are out, too. Anything else?”

She bit her bottom lip as she pondered the question. Killian found his gaze drawn to it, and he had to tear himself away from the frightfully imaginative things his mind conjured.

“Why?”

He froze at the unexpected question and looked back up to catch her eye. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you come here? And why are you working with me?”

He offered her his most charming, rakish grin. “While I didn’t request you, lo-Swan, I can’t say I regret it.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, buddy,” she said, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

He frowned at her. “Okay, I hate being called ‘buddy’.” He leant forward. “Can we just...impose a moratorium on nicknames of any kind?”

“Sure, but I also want an answer.” She took a pointed sip of her coffee.

“God above, you’re like a dog with a bone. Is this an interrogation?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “No, but getting information is an important part of writing.”

“To be sure, lass, but…” He sighed and leaned back in the booth. “My apologies--Emma. Truthfully, I don’t know. Perhaps Mr. Booth, and Ms. Mills, naturally, wanted someone partnered exclusively with you.”

“I need that much work, do I?”

He hesitated. “I’d think of it more as you being a valuable investment.”

She snorted. “Flattering, real flattering.”

He grinned. “I aim to please.”

An eyeroll greeted him at that. “I’m sure. But anyway, I get the feeling you’re not telling me something, and I really don’t appreciate being left in the dark.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Whatever,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Listen, I’ll be working on my book, and I’ll get you an outline and first chapter soon. But we’re not going to be pals, and I won’t compromise my integrity or my style just because you bought me a fucking cup of coffee.”

Killian stared at her, his mouth slightly agape, and for once in his life he felt speechless.

Emma wasn’t done rendering him shocked and incapable of using words. “Also?” She stood and tapped on the edge of the table. “You should have bought me hot chocolate if you wanted to impress me or get me to talk.”

Then she left before he even had a chance to formulate a reply.

&&&

Killian tried to tamp down the surge of mixed emotions he was dealing with. This was the second time in one week the same woman had walked away from him, and he was annoyed. He had been the one who was supposed to question her, to figure out what made her tick. Instead, she had managed to twist things around both times and, somehow, he had managed to reveal more of his hand than he had intended.

She had known he was hiding something. He wasn’t sure how, or why it bothered him so much. Everyone had an agenda, and Emma had to know he would have one.

But how she guessed it might not be a straightforward editorial one, he couldn’t imagine.

There was a part of him that he was trying to push away, though. A part of him that respected Emma, much to his surprise. She had called him on his bluffs and bullshit, and she followed her convictions and spoke her mind.

Unbidden, a thought came to him: Milah would like her.

He sighed. That was a road he didn’t want to go down. Nodding at Ruby and ignoring her smirk, he asked for the check.

“I knew you weren’t here for the salads,” she said, dropping the ticket down on the table.

He raised an eyebrow and gave her the smarmiest once-over he could manage. “Maybe I was hoping for different fare.”

She rolled her eyes. “And yet, you’re the one who got devoured. Chewed up and spit out, more like. It was a treat to see.”

“Ah...you know Emma, then.”

“She’s one of my best friends. Like a sister to me.”

“Of fucking course,” he groaned.

She grinned wolfishly at him. “Don’t be afraid to come back. I enjoyed the show.”

He dropped enough cash to cover his bill along with a generous tip and clenched his jaw, walking out of the diner.

How humiliating.

As he walked the couple of blocks to the T, he pushed his shoulders back, trying to let go of some of his tension. Once again, he could almost hear Milah.

“So dramatic, Killian. She bested you, and you’re just whinging about it now. Don’t be petulant, my love.”

He felt his insides twist at the realization that Milah would likely not approve of his dealings with August. It might not be precisely illegal, at least on his end--but it was unscrupulous and reprehensible.

He had only known Emma about a week, but wasn’t sure he could keep on doing this. Perhaps it would be best to be above-board from here on out, focus on his actual job.

Killian grimaced, thinking of all he owed August. Hating himself and holding back a snarl, he pulled out his phone and dialed August’s number.

He picked up after two rings.

“August? I got things a little more under control with Emma. She should be sending me her materials soon, and then we can figure out what else needs to be done…”

[ortizroger]

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