So I had to give the chapters of B&T titles because I wrote a prologue and AO3 marks chapters numerically and writing something like “chapter two: chapter one” is just horribly confusing. So that’s all well and good but now I need approximately 14 more titles. Fantastic.

78 from the fluffy prompts(:

aquawolfgirl:

78. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

This got significantly longer than I expected it to. If anyone’s having trouble with the cut on mobile, let me know and I’ll just publish it on AO3 instead. 

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She remembers hearing about Professor Solo on the campus tour. Some brave soul asked their guide whose classes to avoid, much to the embarrassment of his parents who quickly tried to shush him. Their guide answered anyway, though, saying, “If you can, avoid Professor Solo at all costs.”

She didn’t give a reason. She didn’t even say which classes he taught. Which is how Rey Jackson finds herself sitting in the vast lecture hall, staring in horror at the syllabus that had been placed on the little desk.

How could she has missed it? How could she have completely overread the instructor’s name? She was too wooed by the idea of taking an entire semester of Gothic literature, it seems, and now she has to pay the price.

“Good morning.”

Keep reading

So my therapist said something to me a while back and I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I just want to get it out there. I dunno if it’s gonna help, but here goes. 

I’m a people pleaser. I’m not really as “if they don’t like me, fuck ‘em” as I try to portray. It’s been one of those “fake it till you make it” kind of things and honestly it’s not really working. But my therapist said to me “why are you willing to let yourself burn in order for other people to accept you when it’s not even you they’re accepting?” and I’ve been thinking. Honestly, I just really want people to like me. I’m very good at hiding. It’s been a pretty consistent pattern in my life that adults didn’t want to see the parts of little Rose that they didn’t like. Little Rose had panic attacks and no adults were capable of understanding why or what was going on so I’d get punished for it. Little Rose was a crier and was made fun of for it or told just not to do it. Little Rose was not taken seriously when she told adults about her troubling mental health issues. Hell, adult Rose was not taken seriously about her mental health issues until it got to the point that denying it was impossible, what with the daily panic attacks and very clear to see break and all. So I guess I’ve been trained, in a way, to shut up, suck it up, and present a good face because people like a good face. People like a “I do what I want” attitude. They like a smart girl. They like a pleasant and happy person. So I shut up and smile and don’t argue or assert boundaries. Because if I do… 

I loved someone once. I planned on marrying him, actually. He was abusive, but he never hit me so I wasn’t aware that what I was going through was really abuse at the time. If I was good and what he wanted, we didn’t fight. If I wasn’t what he wanted there was something wrong with me and he’d withdraw any and all affection at best, sulk and punch holes through the walls or sharpen his knives, maybe yell if he was really pissed off. And that wasn’t even the worst of it. So I shut up. The last time I finally asserted myself, the last time I was tired of it, he called me a manipulative bitch and fucked off for good. My father was similar. Say the wrong thing when he was drinking and it was a war until he would fuck off and come back expecting an apology but never giving one. So the message has been clear all my life: be what other people want you to be or they will hurt you and then they will leave you; you are not your own person, you are what other people need you to be so be that or they’ll find someone else. 

I just want people to like me. I just want to be loved, really. But dammit if I don’t want to be loved on my own fucking terms. I’m so tired of pretending that I’m not just as capable of being a cruel, viscous bitch as anyone else. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to scream and cry and break things when I’m pissed off and hurt. I’m tired of feeling like I have to meet some impossible standard I know I can’t actually meet in order for people to like me. I’m tired of my brain telling me that no one really likes me. I’m tired of caring about what other people think of me. I’m tired of needing it. I’m tired of just not being good enough. 

I don’t have anything to wrap this up with. Here’s my own little personal wank storm for the evening. I have no where else to go with this honestly. I’m just pissed off and done.