one of the things about being an educator is that you hear what parents want their kids to be able to do a lot. they want their kid to be an astronaut or a ballerina or a politician. they want them to get off that damn phone. be better about socializing. stop spending so much time indoors. learn to control their own temper. to just "fucking listen", which means to be obedient.
one of the things i learned in my pedagogy classes is that it's almost always easier to roleplay how you want someone to act. it's almost always easier to explain why a rule exists, rather than simply setting the rule and demanding adherence.
i want my kids to be kind. i want them to ask me what book they should read next, and i want to read that book with them so we can discuss it. i want my kid to be able to tell me hey that hurt my feelings without worrying i'll punish them. i want my kid to be proud of small things and come running up to me to tell me about them. i want them to say "nah, i get why this rule exists, but i get to hate it" and know that i don't need them to be grateful-for-the-roof-overhead while washing the dishes. i want them to teach me things. i want them to say - this isn't safe. i'm calling my mom and getting out of this. i want them to hear me apologize when i do fuck up; and i want them to want to come home.
the other day a parent was telling me she didn't understand why her kid "just got so angry." this woman had flown off the handle at me.
my dad - traditional catholic that he is - resents my sentiment of "gentle parenting". he says they'll grow up spoiled, horrible, pretentious. granola, he spits.
i am going to be kind to them. i am going to set the example, i think. and whatever they choose become in the meantime - i'm going to love them for it.
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mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.
he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.
you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.
in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.
"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."
standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.
"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.
and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.
with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."
silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.
"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"
had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.
his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.
(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.
you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seems from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.
you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)
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"yue qingyuan deserves to know the truth about sqq." well yes but also, it would completely destroy his life bc he literally would not rest until he found shen jiu again. He would actually he horrified to think he had left xiao jiu all by himself for several years AGAIN. Ended up in shen yuans world without his memories? He's finding him. With his memories? He's finding him. He's actually still in his actual body, but isn't the main consciousness? Qi ge is bringing him back out, I fear. He woke up in some rando book extras body? He's finding him. He ended up in a whole other mxtx book? YUE QINGYUAN WILL FIND HIM
Doesn't matter if it takes him a day or a month or a year or 800 years or 1600 years he'll find Shen Jiu again
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okay im sorry but just imagine being kageyama tobio. your parents are always working late, your sister quit volleyball years ago and now she's off being an adult and having a career, none of your teammates get why you care so much and the only guy who did, because he cared the same amount in the same way, graduated 2 years ago and also hated your guts. your peers have given you a cruel nickname just so they can reinforce how little they like or understand you, you dont have any friends, you have nothing but volleyball actually, your grandfather is dead and you are clinging to the promise he made you when you were a little kid because if you dont you might just go insane. you are so, so incredibly lonely.
and then, THEN, this scrawny 5 foot nothing kid stares you down outside the gymnasium bathrooms and promises to beat you, and he totally sucks at volleyball. like, he. is. terrible. but he can run, and he has good reflexes, he jumps so high he looks like he's flying, and most importantly he runs headfirst into a wall and then says 'we haven't lost yet' like its the most obvious thing in the world when his teammates ask him why he bothered. and you realise this kid is just like you, the same kind of fucked in the head you are. and youre furious, what the hell has this guy been doing for the past 3 years? your grandfather promised you that someone even better would come and find you are here he is, but you beat his team in less than an hour and you're pretty sure you'll never see him again, despite him promising to take you down, because never once in your life has anyone who was supposed to stick around actually do that. you're angry because you didn't have to be so painfully lonely all these years, you could've had someone who kept up with you, but he just wasn't there, because he sucks and you don't but he doesn't have to and that makes it so much worse than you just being a freak who was completely one of a kind.
and then you go back to your team, back to your last middle school tournament, and you play more games. only this time youre pissed. you know that there's someone else like you now, someone who will. not. stop until the ball has hit the floor and you don't get why your teammates won't just be better, try harder, move faster. and then they abandon you too. you thought you were alone before, but now you have absolutely nothing, not even volleyball. and you didn't get into the school your grandfather went to, and the coach you picked your back-up school for is in the hospital, and your plan for the next 3 years is to essentially bide your time until you get scouted into the v-league because you literally do not have anything left and you are doing everything your 15 years old and incredibly depressed self can because you refuse to let go of volleyball, no matter how lonely it makes you, no matter how much it hurts to cling on.
and then, AND THEN. that same scrawny dumbass from that 2-0 match in middle school is there and he still sucks and he's still the same kind of fucked in the head that you are and you won't give him one of your 'royal sets', not after what happened last time, you can't stop being lonely but you can at least try to not get abandoned again. and he says 'forget all that, i'll be here no matter what', and he spikes the damn set. he shuts his freaking eyes and he trusts you and you have just had the rug pulled out from underneath your damn feet because you understand, maybe better than anyone else, being ready to do whatever it takes to win but who the hell just fully puts their faith in someone else like that and maybe, just maybe, this kid was serious when he swore he'd get better and take you down.
he's invincible as long as youre there and so are you as long as you have him. you ask him if he's prepared to go all the way to the world stage to take you on, because you've never set your sights anywhere else, and he tells you he'll match you every step of the way. he picks up your crown, puts it right back on your head and proves to you that he refuses to leave you just like everyone else did, even at your worst. you tossed and he spiked and he said 'i'm here' and he is.
he is, and he never stops being here for you, chasing after you, making you chase after him, even when he's on the other damn side of the planet. and then 6 whole years after you first met him, first played him, first thought that maybe your grandfather would keep his promise to you, you get to play him again and you realise that he is your someone even better, always has been. actually, they all are. and you're not that lonely tyrant you used to be anymore, youre not that sad, abandoned kid hiding behind anger and obsession, you're doing the thing you love surrounded by people who love it in the same fucked in the head way that he and you do, and the man you love is there across the net from you, playing against you, and he's also there on the court next to you, playing with you, and either way he is here.
you got really, really good at volleyball, and somebody even better came and found you.
he's here.
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