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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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a nurses job

— Bakugou breaks his arms and as a nurse, you have the responsibility to make sure that he is comfortable, even when he needs to use the bathroom.

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pairing: pro hero!bakugou katsuki x nurse fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, prohero!bakugou, golden showers/water sports/piss kink, degradation (giving), dirty talk, lusting/pining, handjobs

word count: 5,050

a/n: so, I was going to make this a piss in ur mouth and pussy type of fic, but I kept seeing all those beautiful bakugou piss arts where he’s with a nurse.... so this is inspired and brought upon by all the water sports bakugou x nurse art ive seen for three months.

kinktober day 21 main kink: piss | kinktober masterlist

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You’re not quite sure what persuaded you into wanting to become a nurse as a child.

Maybe it was because your quirk (when you hum at an A flat, everyone within 5 meters experiences accelerated healing properties) was useless for Pro Hero work, so you realized early on that being a Pro Hero was a distant dream. Maybe it was because medical staff were still hailed as everyday heroes despite being in a world with people who could perform extraordinary achievements. It started as a small obsession to prove to the soon to be jobless, dream broken, and graduated failures of the hero course high schools that you had done more than them. That you, unlike them, were recognized as a hero.

You were decent with math and science, so you strove for medical school. But with the horrendous costs of schooling, your then living situation, and your dislike of unneeded and unwanted competitive stress, you deterred toward the nursing pathway. It was a pathway where you really found yourself, or at least, you thought so.

Empathy, emotion, and the need to see people come out of a hospital better than when they entered was something that grew on you quickly and obviously. Your earliest clinical rounds often left you with swollen, tired feet from walking around for restless hours, but with a smile on your face that was irreplicable. With every semester in school, you got better, connected better with your patients. Your feet still ache after long shifts, and sometimes your smile is hollow and broken, and if you look closely, you could see dried tears and puffy eyelids, but you wouldn’t ever regret this decision to become a nurse.

At twenty-five, newly graduated from nursing school, already working full time at the best hospital in Japan, while studying for your degree to eventually become a nurse practitioner. You loved your job quite a lot. They had placed you immediately within their Post-OP, ICU, and recovery wings, and even though you were somewhat new, you were celebrating a year of working in a few weeks, you already had some… more than familiar faces.

“Well, Ground Zero-san, I guess you owe me a drink because unless my eyes are deceiving me, it looks like both your arms are broken, no?” you hum, your grin bright and wide, not even attempting to hide it’s glee as your high profile patient sat seething on the hospital bed. “It’s been, what? Two weeks since you last showed up here? You getting old?”

“Oh, would you shut the fuck up, you shitty ass nurse?!” Bakugou snarled, his arms obviously trying to tense and move against the large casts that envelope him. “The fuck would you expect to happen when facing off with a quirk that’s specifically meant to break people’s arms?!”

“Deku didn’t break any arms,” you point out with a soft laugh, eyes still scanning and reading through his charts to check his medical needs and medicine prescribed by the attending and when he should be taking them. “A bit weird that only half of the Wonder Duo was indescribably injured, no?”

A loud snarl ripped from Bakugou’s throat, and you stifled your own laughter as you raised your eyesight to look him straight in his raging eyes.

“I took that damn nerds hits because he’s broken his arms so many fucking times he’ll be forced to amputate them if he breaks them again!” Bakugou’s eyes were near white in his anger, but the intensity of his emotions was heavily diminished by the fact that his arms were strapped to his chest in thick, round bandages.

“You can admit you care for him,” you chide, ignoring his ‘like hell I do!’ Placing the chart down and walking to his IV drip, you checked to see if anything he was hooked to required any changes or whatnot. “Besides, this is not the first time I’ve seen you in here! It was quite surprising to see Ground Zero on bedrest on my first ever shift here.”

That much was true.

You had been working at Tokyo Hospital for nearly nine months now. Within the nine months, you saw a lot of heroes; that much was true. Your quirk was versatile as a nurse, and you were bright, young, very good at your job, and definitely a beautiful individual. So, when you were assigned to be working most of your days healing heroes because they were the backbone of the country, it didn’t quite catch you by surprise. It was a common assignment you had as a nursing student too.

You just didn’t expect the head nurse of the floor to assign one of your five rooms to be holding none other than Ground Zero, a.k.a Bakugou Katsuki.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot. You had known about the explosion hero since high school! You had sat in front of your TV in high school, attempting to do your homework while watching the rather intensive first-year battles. He had done well in every stage, placing within the top three each time and even winning the game! You had cringed at the awards ceremony but had been horrified at the news of his kidnapping.

But after that, with the rising tensions of the villain world upon the dying world left behind by All Might, you had forgotten him for a moment. As time went on, and finally, a new support system was brought forth, Ground Zero, much like his quirk entailed, exploded onto the scene alongside Deku and a few other young heroes.

So, sure, you expected to maybe one day run into the ash-blond hero, but you didn’t expect it to happen on day one.

All things considered, the two of you got along rather well.

His... strong personality did make you wary of him at first, taking his near verbal barrage until you, very flusteredly he will argue, told him to ‘shut up, you butthole!’

You were horrified at your lack of professionalism, and Bakugou had gone silent as he stared at you in silence.

“Did you just call me a butthole?” he echoed, his face full of emotions you could not read. You felt on the verge of panicking, unsure if he was going to potentially tell on you! The sounds of a barking laughter rang in your ear, and you looked up to see his grinning, much more relaxed form. “Are you some shitty preschooler?!”

Thus began a working relationship of sorts between you and Bakugou.

He was an asshole, and you tried your best to not let him talk you off a cliff. It didn’t take very long for you to find out what made him tick surprisingly enough, and you used that to your advantage. The best way to tease him right now was by reminding him that he had been hospitalized more times than Deku, who apparently had held the record for the number of hospitalizations between him and his friends.

“Are you going to mention that shit first meeting every time we talk?!” Bakugou barked, his eyes narrowed as he turned his head away from you.

“After you admit you care deeply for all your friends!” you chirp back, stepping away from his IV drip, satisfied by what you saw. “Well, you look good for now. I’ll be checking up on you every ten to fifteen minutes since you can’t press the button until we can get those casts off! Did ya need anything before I go check on my other patients?”

“Open the damn window; it’s stuffy in here,” Bakugou grumbled, his face finally facing you again.

“Of course,” you smile cheekily, your eyes squinting with your broad grin. “It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy!”

Standing at the side of the bed, you stretched over Bakugou to grab the edge of the window and slide it open. Through your stance, you were entirely aware of how this looked, how this felt. Your breasts centimeters from Bakugou’s face, your eyes never once breaking from the window to feign your innocence as you finally pull away. Even with scrubs on, you could feel his hot, sharp breathes expelling through your clothes, his ears tinging just the smallest bit red as you smile.

“Anything else?” you asked sweetly, failing to hide your impish grin.

“Put the water cup close by,” he grunted, eyes staring at the liter of water at his side table. Well, he wouldn’t be able to use his arms until just before he was set to be discharged, so moving the water closer was a good idea.

Nodding, you grabbed a nearby cup, filling it three-quarters of a way full before placing it onto the feeding table and dragging it near his mouth, a bendy straw already secured into the cup. You watched as he shot forward, putting the plastic straw into his mouth and beginning to drink the cold water. His eyes were back on yours, deceivingly cold had you already not been an expert on his personality.

With one final soft chuckle, you waved at Bakugou as you headed out, a cheerful smile on your face as he continued to drink his water.

“See ya in a few!”

Well, you guess there was one more important detail about your relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. For the past five months, you have been doing everything in your power to seduce him — to get him to admit that he wanted you too.

You knew the ethics and the morals behind falling for a patient of yours, much less a high profile patient at that. You knew that if your little crush was ever found out, you would most definitely be moved from his room. You were also damningly aware that you should have brought up your initial feelings for the explosion hero to your admin the moment it arose. But the thought and the way you were always so happy to be around him eventually overruled your logic. Five months ago, you had stayed at the hospital until nearly three am, talking with a severely concussed Bakugou. You were stationed for an overnight round with the task of making sure that he didn’t fall asleep. And for the first time in your time knowing Bakugou, the two of you somehow clicked into place, and when he was discharged the next morning — the nurse who had a quirk to rid of concussions finally arriving — he had thanked you.

It was so benign, so incredibly simple, yet the way the golden sunshine illuminated his blond hair and made his red eyes shine like a ruby, you found your own tired body feeling heated and warm. He wasn’t such a lousy conversationalist, and you had already enjoyed all your interactions together, yet it still caught you off guard to feel your heart pounding in your throat as he pulled on his jacket and left.

So after coming to terms with your sudden infatuation for the stubborn hero, you began to express your desires and feelings for him without having to say it. For all that he was worth and all that he expressed himself to be extremely observant, Bakugou Katsuki still had no idea that you liked him.

Unfortunately, your scrub nurse uniform wasn’t precisely seductive. The light blue of the breathable, sterile uniform was about as unsexy as uniforms got. But that never stopped you from leaning in too close when doing what Bakugou demanded of you. It didn’t prevent you from accidentally dropping papers in front of him and bending over to show off the curves of your ass.

There had never been a time such as this one where you hated that the old, ‘sexy’ nurse outfits were no longer up to standard and banned from use. How you would have loved to be wearing gartered held stockings just to accidentally flash to Bakugou. But, you suppose that it’s alright. Even though your feelings and ambitions to get the Pro Hero to like you as much as you did him, you never tried to push it.

For now, you were just an asshole tease.

You carried out the rest of your rounds in peace, your pager sitting comfortably in your pocket, unused, unneeded for now. The rest of your four patients were doing well for now.

One was asleep, most likely due to the medicine coursing through his veins, but his vitals remained unchanged.

Another was in the process of getting ready to be discharged, her family there to help her in leaving.

The third was eating his dinner, eyes concentrated on a poker game on the TV as he asked you to help fluff his pillow.

The last was busy with a physical therapist, her forehead slick with sweat as she attempted to sit up from her chair.

All in all, they were all doing fine, and you were back to the beginning, back to Bakugou’s room.

You entered his closed room door to be greeted by an empty bed. Your eyes widened immediately, the initial wave of pure horror flashing through you that by some freak accident, some murderous villain had kidnapped the injured hero straight from the hospital bed.

“Ground Zero-san?!” you called out, a pitched voice of concern frilling your voice as you stumbled through the room. Your eyes were frantically searching the room, fingers feeling the lingering warmth of his body on the bed and your eyes noticing the empty water cup on his table still. The sheets of his bed haphazardly thrown off as if in a struggle.

Your fingers wound around the panic button, your ears straining to hear any sort of sign of Bakugou still being here.

A gritted teeth snarl was muffled from the attached bathroom, and you froze, unable to move as you felt the untouched button in your hands turn as light as a feather. You approached the bathroom door with soft footsteps, the smile on your face, unable to be stopped as you pulled the door open.

The sight you happened upon was something that made your lips curl into a wider smirk as the hospital clothed-clad hero absolutely struggled with his lack of functioning hands and arms to pull down his pants. Something he couldn’t do himself because the socks and slippers on his feet kept him from even attempting to tug his pants off with his toes.

In his struggle, undoubtedly miserable attempt to get his pants and underwear off his waist, Bakugou seemed ignorant to your arrival. His back still towards you, his head tilted down in his struggle as he twisted and pulled at practically nothing.

And as you watched him struggle, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drink in his form that stood tall before you. Most occurrences where you found yourself face to face with Bakugou, he was always tucked in a bed (except that time you realized your feeling for him), whether it was because he needed to be or because he was forced to be. So seeing him in his full height, seeing how despite your size, you were still only at his shoulder, made your eyelashes flutter.

He was tall, so deliciously tall, you wanted to climb onto a chair to see if he would be taller even with that added height. And oh how the flimsy material of his hospital outfit was stretched then against the taut muscles of his back. They flexed and shifted with his aggravation, and the only thought on your mind was to rake your fingers against the tempting muscle and skin.

“Shitty. fucking. villain!” he hissed angrily, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he still struggled to do what nature called him for.

But you couldn’t help it; the flexing muscles of his back, the lower tenor of his voice, and the way he seemed ridiculously larger than life at the moment tipped your restraint over. Your ability to hold back crashing through you like a tsunami wave, drowning you until you found your hand tethered to the tight spot at the center of his spine, your hushed words drifting to his ear like sweet, warm honey.

“You need any help here, Ground Zero-san?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to have your hot breath fanning against his sweaty exposed neck. You could feel him twitch in your hold, his body stiffening as he whipped his head around to look at you, red eyes wild, wide, and dark.

“Don’t ya know how to fucking knock?!” he snapped, his body flushed at being caught in the bathroom, unable to shed his clothes. He doesn’t move from your touch, and that small detail makes you warm, knowing that he wasn’t entirely repulsed by your touch.

“You were missing from your bed, and I called your name,” you smile despite his angry glare. “I know you are susceptible to hear loss, but I thought you were still in the clear.”

“I ain’t fucking deaf,” Bakugou growled, his face twisted with a frown. “And that still doesn’t explain why the hell you’re here!”

“Oh, were you not just completely struggling earlier?” you feign shock, the grin on your face unstoppable at the embarrassed scowl that sets on his face. You step even closer to him so that your torso is perpendicular to his side. Your hand still gently touching his muscled back, and your free hand gently pressing to his own abdomen, the feeling of his flexed muscles, making you dizzy as you peer down at the white toilet. “Is there a villain in the toilet? I didn’t think that was possible!”

“Of fucking course not, there’s not a shitty villain in the toilet.” Bakugou flushed, his body entirely trapped by you, but he made no play to escape.

“Oh, so did you need help?”

Bakugou stares at you, his mind whirling a kilometer a second as he contemplates his next course of action. The both of you know he needs help, and still, the both of you are aware that his ability to ask of that from you is slim to none given he couldn’t even wait for you to return to his room.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue angrily, annoyed, completely fed up. His eyes rolling to the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge you as his head nods once. “Help me, shitass nurse.”

“Of course!” you chirp, your eyes finding his hooded ones.

You give him one last warm, sweet smile before the hand on his torso lightly drags down his stomach, soft in its unashamed way of feeling him up. Your head tilted as your fingers hooked into the tight waistband of his pants and pulled it down, the heat of your palm accidentally dragging itself over the imprint of his cock behind his boxers.

The slight, flustered choking noise at the back of his throat didn’t go ignored by you, but rather but aside for later. Your eyes flashing up to see his red eyes wide, his cheeks so lightly dusted with pink as you managed to pull down his boxers too.

“There!” you exclaim, your eyes closing in your grin before you turn your attention back down to his exposed dick.

Immediately, you had to hold back a noise of pure want and lust at the sight of him. He was long, undoubtedly eight inches, definitely more. Although you couldn’t tell how thick, you knew his dick would fill your palm without a struggle. The trimmed, dark blond pubes and the protruding veins are what did it for you, your tongue poking out for a millisecond to wet your lips as you stared at his dark pink head.

“Stop staring at it!” Bakugou hissed, clearly embarrassed if the slight voice crack said anything about it.

You looked back up at him, fake confusion swimming in your eyes as you tilted your head. “It’s only a penis. I see millions of these all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s fucking weird!”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling softly as you sighed in retreat, “Fine, fine, let's pee big boy and get you in bed.”

With your dominant hand, you grabbed his dick with a soft grip, pleasure simmering through you at the confirmation of the thick dick in your palm. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who thought that for the moment you tried to steer his dick toward the toilet to assist in aim, Bakugou hissed loudly. His flesh twitching to life in your warm, soft hand as it began to grow upward.

You didn’t say anything; your jaw remained as tight and closed as your vocal box despite the egging need to tease him and celebrate his apparent approval of your touch. So, eventually, in a voice that defied the nervous energy coursing through your veins, you asked: “Didn’t you need to pee?”

Bakugou let out a throaty, guttural groan, his anger hissing between his teeth as his dick twitched again in your hold, growing longer and harder still.

“I can’t take a damn piss with a hard-on, you idiot!” he roared despite the strawberry red blush on his cheeks. You admired the way he was still fighting for control of an upper hand here despite — clearly — not having any.

“Oh, haha! Silly me!” you laugh, your hand shifting against his length, your warm palm getting closer to the base of his cock.

“W-What are you doing?!” Bakugou spluttered, your soft butterfly touches sending him through a loop he clearly wasn’t expecting. “You could just wait for it to die!”

“It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy,” you repeat your words, your hold on his dick growing firmer and harder just as his cock continued to do. “You clearly need to pee, and there’s no telling when your cock will go down.”

“I’LL MAKE IT GO DOWN!” Bakugou yells, but the usual sharpness to his tone has deflated, diminished to nothing but whining embarrassed yell. You look up at his clenched jaw and how a pretty pink glows on his cheeks, and you’re mesmerized.

Looking back down at his growing cock that warms your hand immensely, you hum, slightly twisting your hand around his length. Bakugou shudders, a whine hidden in his throat as you open your own mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” you question, your eyes fluttering up to look at his clouded red ones. “Do you not need or want me?”

That was a double-headed question if Bakugou ever heard one. He looked at your glossy lips, the way they were pouted, so ready to be kissed, to be claimed, and that delirious look of want and need in your eyes. And he knows better; he knows that this is not the place, not the time to act on emotions like this. The need to pee sits heavily on his lower belly, just like the need to cum makes him twitch and pace uncomfortably. God fucking damn his broken to smithereens arms.

But you already know this, of course, you do. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how anal he can be about the littlest thing. So with no answer, you weaken your grip, making him think that you’re ready to leave, and he falls right into the trap.

“Make it fucking q-quick,” his voice cracks, the embarrassment nearly tangible as you nod your head firmly, your fist tightening around his cock.

Your warm fingers pressed onto his length, beginning at a slow leisurely pace, your eyes glued onto his face, detailing how he reacts to every small flick of your wrist, every little difference of grip in his hands. Your strokes began to grow larger, your fingertips tracing the bulging veins on his cock, your eyes hypnotized by the way his face pinches in his pleasure, the blush on his cheeks, the way the hot pants expelling from his mouth curl warmly in your lower belly.

“Y-You do this with all your shitty patients?” Bakugou growls, but it sounds weak, too blurred and slurred with his increasing pleasure.

Your fingernails drag against the underneath of his cock, tracing the incredibly sensitive skin until he’s slowly thrusting his hips into your fist. “Only the hot ones,” you tease, your thumb pressing against the tip of his beading tip, the warm pre-cum slick and spreading quickly against his flushed tip.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Bakugou continues, his head tipping backward, exposing the slenderness of his neck that begs for your teeth to sink into. “Just needed to take a fucking piss.”

“Nervous, you’ll pee all over me, and I won’t want to suck your dick?” you ask, your fingers brushing near his scrotum, eyes blazing dangerously at the sight of his gasping, jaw-dropping face. His hips rut forward, leaking cock dripping with his pre-cum, and you giggle softly, fisting him faster, spreading the pre-cum against his heated sex.

Your fingers run against his throbbing length, your palm tight and hot against his cock, the veins you drag across searing against your flesh, ingraining itself onto your skin and memory forever. Despite it all, the obvious near tangible horror Bakugou has on the thought of pissing on you, he continues to fuck into your fist.

“Damn bitch like you would probably l-like it if I pissed on you,” Bakugou pants, his casted arms twitching at his chest. His head tilted away from you, but his eyes burning into you, the red eyes hot as fire against your skin. “You want me to piss on you? Make you my bitch.”

The words burn against your skin, your teeth biting onto your lower lip as you meet his gaze. You’ve never considered it before, never thought you’d be into it. As a nurse, you’ve been around piss, shit, and vomit, and while you had grown unfazed by it, you never considered the prospect of a man pissing on you. But you thought of it, of Bakugou standing above you, free from his casts, hands on his cock as he smirks down at you with golden liquid spraying from his cock, soaking you where you lay.

You shudder, pleasant chills running down your spine as you stare into his eyes yet again.

“And if I do?” you ask, fingers rolling the head of his cock between your forefinger and thumb, relishing in the way that he snarls low in his throat. “What’re you gonna do about that, Ground Zero-san? You gonna piss all over your bitch after you get out of here.”

“You want me to piss on you here?” he asks, his voice snappish, strained, his hips drilling harder into your hand that was quickly speeding up. A battle of power and speed between the both of you as he looms over you, face flushed, pink, and lips demanding to be kissed. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you do.”

“Why’s that?” you breathe, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a breath away as your hand grips and tightens even more around the base of his cock, causing a pained-pleasured hiss to rip from behind his teeth as he looks at you.

“Don’t act like your shitty ass hasn’t been trying to seduce me every time I show up,” Bakugou gruffs, his hips continuing a drilling rhythm into your fist, his body no longer shy or embarrassed.

“So you noticed but never said anything?” you counter, your fingers shifting over to his swollen, hot balls. You fondle them, tugging at their weight gently, taking in the way his eyes roll to the back of his head and the way his teeth tear into his lip. “Coward.”

“Hah?! Who the fuck—”

You can’t help yourself anymore, your mouth coming to slam against his in a piercing, searing kiss. He moans into the kiss, and you gasp back, tongues clashing together, teeth knocking into each other as awkward, nearing uncomfortable kisses are exchanged. His sweet scent of caramel wafts into your nose, and his grunts and groans are addicting, entirely enthusiastic noises that send your own thighs clenching shut to quiet the heated need in between your thighs.

Your hand increases in its speed, his whines and groans so pretty and piercing into you.

“How fucking gross,” you laugh into his mouth, the slicked heat of his precum lathering your palm until soft noises of your fisting hand begin to fill the sterile bathroom. “You’re a child, wanting to piss on things that you shouldn’t. You came to the bathroom and got a hard-on instead of pissing, Bakugou, aren’t you embarrassed.”

“Y-Y/l/n,” he hissed, his jaw falling slack against your mouth. His hips are drilling into you faster and faster, the throbbing of his cock, the growing, thick scent of his caramel sweat filling the room and your senses. “F-Fuck!”

“Such a dirty, childish pro hero,” you smile your tongue curling into his mouth and dragging against the roof of his mouth as he shudders helplessly against you. “Cum already, Bakugou, cum and piss over yourself like some small brat.”

He shudders, and you find your mouth leaving his own as you stare down, spurting white ropes of cum pour from his tip, completely covering the toilet seat with his sticky white cum. And you watch as soon as his body collapses onto you, entirely spent from the orgasm, yellow piss streaming from his tip.

The toilet fills with his cum and piss, and you grin once his balls and bladder are completely drained. His cock limp and weak in your hand as you hum, your quirk activating and causing the exhausted Pro Hero to recompose himself so that he wasn’t entirely weak against you.

“Such a good patient,” you coo, pulling up Bakugou’s boxers and hospital pants without a second's thought. Patting his butt gently, you watched as his still exhausted red eyes stared at you. You walked over to the sink, washing your hands so that you could continue to finish the rest of your shift.

“Don’t think this is over, shitty nurse.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your fingers curling under the warm water as you grin.

“I expect to be fucked and pissed on next time,” you counter, your smirk devastating and sending a fire right back to Bakugou’s groin. “No freebies anymore.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #tw: water sports

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saltwatersweets · 5 years ago

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Keeping it Together

Summary: Everything was better now, and Bismuth loved Earth for Earth, not for the cause she fought for. She loved the Gems working by her side, loved the Gems who had been there to repair the broken society that was Homeworld, and loved making things better. She loved today. Today had been perfect: sunshine, pretty clouds (that Lapis definitely had no part in causing, or so she said), and Little Homeworld was almost complete. Today had been perfect. So of course something had to screw it up.

Warnings: major character child death, blood, amputation (not mentioned, but is in the original au, soooo), slight gore, and swearing. I think that’s it, and for how dark this fic is, I’m surprised that’s all to be warned about. Still though, it’s dark, so read with caution!

A/N: a short fic for @spudinacup‘s “SU AU Gone Wrong”, you’ve probably heard of it by now. I just have,,, a lot of Feelings for this au and needed to write one of them out.

Alternate titles: 1) author got the idea for some angsty words and wrote sixteen hundred words in two days. Somehow. Even though they procrastinate on Literally Everything Else. 2) author likes to italicize every other word.

Anyways, enjoy! Hopefully!

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Bismuth always had to be the one keeping it together.

It’s what she was made for, y’know? Building things, repairing things, making sure they don’t fall apart on an unstable foundation. It was her job, her duty for the Diamonds and the Empire.

And she found that she loved it.

Not the “doing it for the Diamonds” part; the diamonds could choke on their own perfection for all she cared. It was the building that entranced her; the idea of doing something she wanted to do. And she did a damn fine job of it (though she would never allow Steven - or Peridot for that matter - to hear that sort of language) if she said so herself. Little Homeworld was only a few months away from being complete, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited for the day the numbers were at 100%.

The last time she had felt this liberated was when Rose offered her a job to build weapons she wanted to build instead of what Homeworld wanted to build, and even then, looking back on it felt more bittersweet than anything. She still had a lot to unpack with Rose, but she found she had all the time she needed before she’d get on that airport.

(Humans were so weird with their phrases, but she learned to fit them into her vocabulary.)

Days were especially better when Steven or the other members of Main Four, as the remaining Crystal Gems had taken to calling the group, visited. Even if it happened at least once a week, there was no lying about the smiles that would be left on everyone’s faces. Peridot, Lapis, and Bismuth’s certainly shined the brightest. Today, Amethyst had helped out a bit (well, she hadn’t eaten and painting supplies, which for her was helping out), and Steven said hi. A friend’s smile always gave her a smile.

Yes, today had been a good day.

Lapis seemed especially excited about Little Homeworld’s completion status, which was nice. It was sometimes difficult to get her smile on worse days, but today she seemed happy and carefree. Peridot was smiling too, but then again, hers weren’t quite as rare.

Lapis’s smiles had gotten more and more frequent the last year, and all three were happy.

It had been such a good day.

So of course something had to mess it up.

Bismuth was outside when she first saw it. She had been bringing out a few newly made pots that would hopefully be used for flowers, and suddenly they had dropped from her arms and shattered on the ground. She didn’t bother picking up the pieces; didn’t even flinch when a few of the broken parts landed on her feet. There was no ignoring the clouds drifting apart and gathering as a large pink needle looking injector stopped by the lighthouse. Peridot saw it too, and breathed out,

“Holy smokes.”

Bismuth agreed.

She may have been primarily made of honor, but adrenaline was a pretty close second. Whatever that thing was doing on Earth, Lapis might be of help in stopping it, so she grabbed the blue Gem’s slim arm. The marine flinched for a second, but only for a second, and Peridot pointed at the injector. “What the heck is that thing?” The Era Two Gem all but screeched. “Is that an injector? It doesn’t look like the ones at the Kindergartens!” “Whatever it is, it’s a threat.” Lapis said, water appearing on her back in wings. “We’ve got to stop it; that’s where the Gems and Steven are.”

“Yeah! Crystal Temps are back together!” Peridot exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air, before her face grew a little sad. “Wait, Connie’s not here, and Pumpkin…”

She looked down for a second and her hand fell back to her side. A trash lid (she always seemed to be near those things) flew in front of her, and she hopped on it. She had really mastered her abilities now.

“Let’s go.” Bismuth said.

It was very lucky they had managed to install the warp today, or else they wouldn’t have gotten up there in time. The temple looked a little different from the last time Bismuth had seen it, but now was not the time for sight-seeing. Lapis had always been the fastest of the trio, and as soon as they warped to the Gems’ house, she flew out the door. Peridot was a few seconds behind, and the builder Gem sprinted right behind.

All it took was a quick sprint up the hill.

The first thing Bismuth saw was a whole lot of red. It took her a minute to realize that the paint like substance was human blood.

The last time she had seen this much blood was thousands of years ago, back when humans had still fought in the Gem War. What the hell had happened here?

She got her answer. She almost wished she didn’t.

It would’ve been so easy to collapse on the ground, as Lapis and Peridot had evidently done, when she saw Steven (the one who had unintentionally and then intentionally set her free, the one who had forgiven her for all her mistakes, the one who had pretty much forgiven everyone for their mistakes, the one who had suffered so much for something as unfair as the Gemstone that had been enclosed in his navel, the one who didn’t deserve any of this bullshit) lying bloodied on the ground, motionless.

It would’ve been so easy to run away from the graphic scene, to rub at her eyes furiously to try and erase the image from her mind, to leave the others to bring the little meatball home and to think of something that could help then (maybe one of Rose’s fountains? They were still working, that could work).

It would have been so easy to stop the pink version of Steven from bringing down a magenta rejuvenator down on the heart-shaped Gem and smashing it to shards, to-

Wait.

What.

If she had veins, they would have been full of adrenaline. What else could explain the mad dash she made towards the- the- what could she call this being, who had no expression except for molten, bubbling fury?

It was… surprisingly difficult to stop the weapon from smashing the Gem to pieces. She didn’t know why she was surprised; Steven was a Diamond after all, he was powerful.

The pink hand trembled with force, and it took everything in her power to keep the handle raised. “What the HECK are you doing?” She yelled with force and fear, hand shaking on the rejuvenator. “We don’t shatter Gems… remember...?”

His eyes gazed up at her.

Stars, those eyes.

Every Gem knew the Diamond pupils when they saw them in their eyes.

She had never wanted to see them in Steven’s.

He dropped the weapon, and she instantly relaxed a bit. He remained tense, but at least one issue was solved.

Bismuth let out an unnecessary sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she breathed, clutching the weapon to her chest. She spared the pink Steven another look, and found pink eyes staring blankly at her, searching for… something.

He didn’t seem to find anything he was looking for.

She looked away.

Peridot had begun wailing now. Lapis was silent.

He still stared, intense but blank. He seemed to be in shock, and she couldn’t blame him. A pat on his back was the best she could do. “Let’s get you home.” Bismuth said, adrenaline vanished, voice barely more than a whisper at this point.

(And if Bismuth picked the boy up and cradled him like a baby in her arms and desperately wanted to break down in tears and hold him close to her chest, and wanted him to wrap his arms - both of them - around her too, then it was never the matter.)

(And if she couldn’t stop herself from feeling around a little frantically for a heartbeat (even though she knew in the deepest part of her coding that there would be nothing) and giving out a little gasp when she found none, and tried not to imagine his dying whimpers, or how much it must have hurt, or how he had been so alone, then it was never the matter.)

(And if she wanted to take the Gem she’d bubbled and smash it beneath her feet herself, until there was nothing left but dust, but it’s wrong and you’re past that and that’s not what Steven would want kept her from doing that, then it was never the matter.)

(And if she wanted to gently lay the child in her arms down (had it really been two years since they’d met in Lion’s mane? Some days it felt like it had been yesterday; some days it felt like she’d known him his whole life. After two whole years, though, he still felt as fragile and tiny and so, so very breakable in her arms as he always had.) and shake his Gem, desperately searching, begging, pleading him to just say something, to show some sort of emotion, please, Steven had healed so many people, so many broken lives, why couldn’t he heal himself, then it was never the matter.)

(And if she instead chose to carry him to Rose’s fountain with the notes of a millennia-old lullaby that had been sung during the times of the Gem War falling from her lips, and to brush his messy, curly hair out of his face, and to hold him even tighter to her chest, to her exposed gemstone, because it may be the last time she ever gets to hug him, then it was never the matter.)

Bismuth always had to be the one keeping it together.

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scriptmedic · 7 years ago

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Injury Analysis: How to Train Your Dragon

This post is an excerpt from Maim Your Characters: How Injuries Work in Fiction. It’s one of nine injury analyses that appear in the book, but this one is near and dear to my heart, especially because you all helped pick it. I asked a couple of months ago for injuries to analyze in fiction, and this one was suggested above all others. I hope it doesn’t disappoint!

(Image courtesy of Dreamworks)

Format: Feature Film (animated) Genre: Action-Adventure / Kids ealism: Fantasy (high fantasy)

It’s funny. When I put out a call to my readers asking what injuries I should take a look at for this book, I got this kid’s movie as an overwhelmingly popular arc to take a look at. It’s a great representation of disability!

It’s just that everyone suggested specifically the back half of the movie, where a human gets injured.

But I say let’s start from the front and look at both of the arcs in this movie, shall we?

I think everyone forgot the first injury because it happened to a dragon.

How To Train Your Dragon is a Dreamworks movie about a Viking named Hiccup, a chief’s son who’s very… “un-Viking.” As in, he doesn’t want to kill dragons.

Dragons are initially presented as “pests,” but it turns out they’re more than that, they’re a menace: the town of Brunk gets raided, set on fire, all the time.

So here’s an interesting start: the beginning of the movie finds Hiccup working for a disabled blacksmith, who has interchangeable prostheses for his left hand and a peg leg for his right leg. His hand can become anything: a hammer, tongs, even a saw or a battle-axe. Yet his prosthetic leg is just that: a leg, something for him to stand on.

As the blacksmith’s protégé, Hiccup is shown to be a very handy inventor. He makes a mean catapult, and the opening of the movie has him trying to take out a special kind of dragon called a Night Fury. Scary!

To the excitement of all, Hiccup shoots one down! His homemade catapult launches a set of stone balls on a cord, which brings down a Night Fury — a feat no one’s ever accomplished before.

Of course, no one sees him do it, so no one believes him.

But when he goes over to check on the dragon he shot down, it turns out the Night Fury isn’t so tough after all. The beast is tied up in the cords from the weapon Hiccup launched.

In a moment Blake Snyder’s kickass book on storytelling (Save the Cat!) would approve of… Hiccup sets him free!

…and almost gets eaten for his troubles.

But the dragon doesn’t kill him, which is perplexing to Hiccup. After his relief washes away, the ever-curious Hiccup keeps coming back to find out why the dragon hasn’t killed him.

It turns out the dragon — who’s later dubbed Toothless — has an Inciting Injury: one of his tail fins has been ripped off by the accident.

Hiccup has already given him his only Immediate Treatment: he’s cut the ropes that are holding him captive.

But that doesn’t solve Toothless’s flying problems. Toothless is pretty miserable. He has fallen into a ravine he can’t get out of, because his flight trajectories are all messed up by his damaged tail.

The two form a friendship, over fish, over drawings, and Hiccup decides to build him a prosthesis to fix his tail.

This is the first analysis we’ve looked at where the protagonist gives the Definitive Treatment to another character. It’s unconventional, and it’s a risky move on Hiccup’s part, but it gets Toothless back in the air.

Cue the training montage! Hiccup builds a saddle to ride Toothless, and their training forms a Rocky Road to Recovery as they learn to fly together. They train, and Hiccup works through various incarnations of the dragon tail and harness system. They crash, they fly, they crash again, until they get it right.

Their New Normal is a great partnership! With Hiccup at the controls of Toothless’s prosthesis, they can fly together. The lessons Toothless teaches Hiccup about the way dragons work make Hiccup a celebrity in his town.

So Toothless’s arc is pretty straightforward…

Toothless’s Injury Arc

Inciting Injury: Tail fin amputated when he’s shot down by Hiccup.

Immediate Treatment: Freed from the projectile, which had tied him down. (A few days later, but hey, he’s a dragon.)

Definitive Treatment: Prosthetic tail fin made by his human handler.

Rocks on the Rocky Road: Toothless and Hiccup almost fall from the sky a few times during the acclimation process, but the wound itself isn’t the issue that needs discussing.

The Big Test: None. By the time we need Toothless to fight, they’ve already reached the last stage.

And the New Normal? A lasting friendship and partnership, where the two can fly — but only together.

This isn’t the only injury arc the movie has in store for us, however. Later in the plot it’s Hiccup’s turn to be maimed.

In the story’s global climax, Toothless and Hiccup are taking out the mother dragon that’s made all the other dragons behave so badly. Their plan has worked — the other dragon’s gone down and exploded!

But up shoots a wall of fire, Toothless’s prosthesis has been burnt away, and Hiccup falls —

And Toothless, ever the faithful dragon, follows him down.

When they hit the ground, there’s a horrifying moment when we think Toothless has been horribly hurt and Hiccup has been consumed by the flames, until Toothless reveals he’s had Hiccup nested inside his wings.

Hiccup has had an Inciting Injury, though we don’t know what it is until the next scene.

He wakes up at home to Toothless’s cheery face snuffling him like a puppy, and we discover when he tries to stand that his injury has been twofold: a head injury (which explains the time lapse) and a lower leg amputation. He’s got a steel prosthetic foot, a Definitive Treatment for an injury we didn’t know he had. (His Immediate Treatment for the burns and concussion was injury prevention: Toothless wrapped him in his wings so he wouldn’t burn to a crisp on the way down.)

Hiccup gets an absurdly short Rocky Road to Recovery as he tries to walk outside and stumbles — but Toothless lets himself be used as a crutch, and helps his friend learn to walk on his new leg.

However, the two get back to their New Normal pretty quickly. Turns out Hiccup’s blacksmith boss — owner of the peg leg and the prosthetic multitool hand — has built a special harness that will allow Hiccup’s new metal foot to lock in to Toothless’s saddle. They can fly again!

(All of this happens in the span of about two minutes of screen time, which is pretty impressive for a fully-told injury arc! However, this arc is abrupt even for a fantasy movie; the character goes from unconscious and unable to walk to flying a dragon in less time than it takes to brew coffee.)

Hiccup’s injury mirrors Toothless’s…

Hiccup’s Injury Arc

Inciting Injury: Falls through some fire. It’s never explained how, exactly, he comes by his leg amputation or his significant head injury which causes him to wake up at home probably weeks later.

Immediate Treatment: Injury prevention, by Toothless swaddling him as the two plummeted together.

Definitive Treatment: While he was unconscious, his blacksmith boss built him a prosthetic leg. His head injury is completely ignored here; it’s implied that he’s been allowed to rest.

Rocky Road to Recovery: Hiccup has some difficulty walking, but it quickly goes away — the magic of filmmaking! He literally stumbles twice.

(To be fair, we’re talking about a movie with Vikings riding dragons and talking with Scottish accents. Realism isn’t exactly their forte.)

The Big Test: None.

New Normal: Hiccup is back to total functional ability. Because his needs have been fully met, he can continue to walk, fly his dragon, and has no apparent significant changes to his life. This can technically be regarded as Total Disability for the foot, since the foot itself was lost, but as he shows no signs of problems walking or performing his activities, it’s almost a meaningless amputation. Functionally, this is No Disability.

What Can We Learn?

Well, first of all, the injury arc doesn’t have to be about the hero to be a meaningful arc for the audience.

The injured character doesn’t even have to be human.

Second of all… notice a theme?

The blacksmith (the only one in the village who truly believes that Hiccup can become a great Viking, by the way) is disabled. His disability is played almost for laughs; he’s got an interchangeable hand (sometimes tongs, sometimes an axe), but his leg prosthesis is just a piece of wood.

Then Toothless gets hurt — by Hiccup’s hand, an emotional element that’s never fully explored. Should Hiccup feel guilty about shooting down what turns out to be a gentle, playful, kind creature?

But Toothless has an injury that’s a parallel to a leg amputation: one of his tail fins is missing, making his usual form of locomotion impossible.

While Toothless is canonically a dragon, he’s modeled very much like a dog in his actions and behaviors: his loyalty, his curiosity, his initial standoffishness that becomes a fierce friendship. Hiccup, seeing this metaphorical dog metaphorically limping, helps.

It’s through his kindness to his companion that Hiccup learns how to save his people — and does just that in the end. Seeing Hiccup’s example of kindness and understanding toward the once-feared creatures causes a realization in his people: that humans and dragons can coexist peacefully, that each can benefit the other. Hiccup and the Vikings help rid the dragons of an evil overlord, and the dragons stop raiding the village and stealing the sheep.

Hiccup is himself injured near the end as a parallel injury. Thus, the blacksmith, Toothless, and Hiccup all find themselves depending on their prosthetics to move through the world as they once did. The parallelism is phenomenal!

There’s even a moment of kindness repaid: It’s Hiccup who’s taught Toothless to fly again, and it’s Toothless who helps Hiccup walk again.

Now, how can we all learn to incorporate that kind of parallelism into our stories?

It’s also a great example of the Big Battle having consequences — Hiccup’s wound isn’t timed so that his Big Event will coincide with the climax, but so that the climax will be his Inciting Injury.

My one criticism of the film (from an injury arc perspective) is the way in which Hiccup’s arc is shortened.

He remains unconscious for what must have been weeks of sailing home and fitting him for his prosthesis — his smithy mentor has even designed and built a wholly new flight apparatus for Toothless so they can fly again right away.

In terms of time, it takes weeks for a stump to heal enough to accept a prosthetic, and weeks again for the amputee to learn to walk, instead of literally seconds of film time. However, since this is in the denoument of the film, it’s much less irritating than it would be if, say, it had happened before the Big Battle and Hiccup had been on his feet again for the fight.

This post is an excerpt from Maim Your Characters, out THIS WEEK from Even Keel Press. If you'd like to read a 100-page sample of the book, [click here]. If you’d like to order a print copy, it’s available [via Amazon.com], and digital copies are available from [a slew of retailers].

It’s not too late to receive the bonus content for Maim Your Characters!

With three extra injury analyses like this and the official ScriptMedic Character Injury Worksheet, plus a copy to keep of the 5 Biggest Mistakes Writers Make Approaching Injuries. Just email a copy of your receipt for the book to AuntScripty{at}gmail{dot}com and I’ll be happy to send your bonus content right along!

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

#injury analysis #How to Train Your Dragon #Toothless #Maim Your Characters #masterposts

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nyxysabyss · 8 years ago

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LEVEL HORIZON; YEAR THREE.80 4/4; Anamnesis & Provocation

Chapter 30!

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. ~Thornton Wilder

Keishin Ukai isn’t sure how he ended up staying with the group of eccentric beach dwellers, but he won’t complain. It’s been a mind-bending last twelve hours and he’s exhausted, but doubts he could sleep anyway.

The avian heir and the bunting had shown up in Sheru bay not long after the first wave had come and destroyed the vast majority of everything. Keishin had been helping scour the murky bay for missing people when he’d noticed their shapes over the coastal hills.

Tanaka had stopped in to grab a sweet for Natsu just that morning and told him that the short crow and several of the others would be gone to some spring festival a good day’s walk inland, so he’d scrunched his face in confusion. But it had quickly dissolved.

Of course, they’d be on their way back after something like this.

He’d met them head on, knowing they would be aghast at what had become of Sheru Bay. They’d immediately inquired after Noya and Keishin had frowned, because the small crow was also supposed to have gone to the festival, and he hadn’t seen him for two days. After a stuttering and broken explanation that the short avian had bolted and torn back home ahead of them, Keishin had felt something very much like dread settle in him.

The inn had been one of the few buildings that had been left even partially intact and still recognizable as having been a building. It had come to rest upstream in one of the creek ravines; in the pandemonium of the aftermath, he’d completely forgotten that the remaining unit members were supposed to be renovating it.

They’d arrived in time to find Tanaka, Daichi, and Bokuto crowding around a hole in the roof, Noya’s frantic voice echoing from within.

“— Asahi’s trapped! We need to get him out!”

They’d proceeded to hack their way inside only to find the other crow in shock, his one wing literally destroyed. It still makes his breath catch and his gut twist when he thinks about it now. They’d managed to find another axe to help them get inside, but Keishin had had to stop them from just cutting and pulling one of the walls away to get him out.

It had been over seven centuries since the last earthquake like this, but it was something he would never forget. He’d probably been around their age now, maybe a little younger… but he knows that they will feel loss as keenly as he had if they aren’t careful. But that hadn’t meant his interference had been welcome. Noya had nearly gone ballistic when he’d stopped them from lifting the wall off Asahi’s pinned wing.

“What are you doing? We need to get it off him!” He’d screeched and Keishin had reacted under the insistent press of those memories by grabbing the small crow’s shirt and jerking him up off his feet.

“And he’ll die!” He’d snapped.

He’d lost a sister this way.

In that last earthquake… she’d been trapped under rubble for three hours, one leg crushed beneath a beam and bricks. They’d freed her.

And she’d died from shock an hour later.

Keishin remembered her shrieks as the pain became agonizing, her glazed eyes and confusion as she’d started shaking all over. After she’d been pulled from the mess, she’d rapidly gone pale, her pulse growing thready, and entirely nonexistent in the injured leg at all. She’d gotten violently sick, and increasingly weak, her mind slipping. She’d finally succumbed to unconsciousness while his family had panicked trying to save her only for her to stop breathing.

She’d been fine while she was trapped— in pain, but coherent and responsive, her mental capacity and pallor holding steady. Only later did they find out that they had incorrectly extracted her, inadvertently paving the way for her to die as her body overwhelmed her in the wake of blood being restored to the massively injured limb. The leg had been left too long without blood flow, the tissues dying, and when it had returned, the crushed dead muscles had poisoned her. She’d have been better off if they’d have amputated the limb at the outset and she might have survived.

Keishin remembers every detail from that horrible memory.

A limb crushed like Asahi’s was very dangerous because it could kill even after it had been relieved of the pressure on it. There was a critical time frame where things would start going south as the tissues began dying, and he knew they were getting frighteningly close if not already past it. If Asahi had been there more than an hour, he was potentially at risk. And the wave had destroyed Sheru Bay about an hour before.

“We can’t just remove the wall.” He’d told the anxious crow. “We have to place a tourniquet.”

“T-tourniquet, are you insane?” Noya had spat. “He doesn’t need a tourniquet. We aren’t hacking his wing off!”

“And if losing the wing is the only way to save his life?” He’d barked at the short crow who’d pulled up short with wide mocha eyes. “We aren’t just going to hack it off, either. We can try to save it, but if it’s too damaged, it will have to be removed or it will kill him.”

The short crow had found Asahi with panic and Keishin had wanted to facepalm because they were wasting time. Anytime there was a major injury, things needed to move fast. Time was a critical commodity that would always be in short supply, and ten times out of ten, the quicker treatment was given, the better the prognosis.

“Asahi can’t lose his wing!” He’d adamantly insisted and Keishin had wanted to smack the kid.

Honestly, with how badly it was pinned between those two walls, even if he managed to keep the limb, he’d never fly again. The long bones were shattered, they’d never heal properly. Asahi was never going to leave the ground again under his own power. But he’d been saved from acting on the urge to take a swing by the large crow in question.

“It’s okay Noya. I honestly thought I—just getting to see you and the others again is a gift. If I have a chance for more than that, then I’m grateful.” He’d said with calm sincerity.

“You can’t be grounded!”

“I can Noya. If I lose a wing, I’ll just be like the cats or Hinata. And that’s okay.” Asahi had said and looked up at him. “Place the tourniquet.”

The libero had stared at the trapped crow with watering eyes for long moments before pulling his shirt and handing it to Ukai to use as a tie. He’d just finished wrapping it twice around the snared limb and had been tying it off when a shout had echoed from the roof.

“Daichi! We have to move! There’s another one coming!” Tanaka had called down to them and Keishin had gone cold.

Another wave?

It wasn’t unusual for a coastline to be battered by multiple tsunamis after an earthquake like this… but it was the last thing they’d needed. Time had very quickly become a commodity they were fast running out of. If they could see another wave coming, they probably had five minutes before it would hit to get the crow out.

They had pulled the chunk of wall away from the stricken appendage as quickly as they’d been able. Keishin had swiftly snagged an axe and sliced through the last few feathers still wedged between wood panels and Asahi had outright collapsed with a heavy exhale, his eyes rolling back as the pain instantly vaulted.

Within moments, both Kageyama and Daichi looked green at the sight of the disfigured wing, and Noya had almost lost his mind. Keishin had barked sharply at them; they hadn’t had time for that. Kageyama was the first to react and had focused on anything but the downed crow as he’d taken up across from Keishin and pulled an arm over his shoulder. They’d navigated the unconscious crow out of the twisted maze of what was left of the inn and had haphazardly negotiated him out onto the roof, the small crow panicking anytime the injured wing was jostled. Getting him up into the bright sunlight where Bokuto, Tanaka, Natsu, and Yachi waited allowed him his first real look at the damage instead of by the weak light of candle flame.

And, oh, was this bad.

The bones weren’t straight anymore, the main joint between the two heavy long ones all but obliterated. It bent in the wrong places with every small movement and Keishin was pretty sure the tendon he could see on the underside was supposed to run across the top. Blood slowly leaked out through various lacerations all along the limb through the mangled covert feathers, bone and ligaments peeking out here and there. It was unnervingly similar to his sister’s injuries that had claimed her life centuries ago.

And to make matters worse, Miss Haruka, their resident medical expert, was missing.

“Gods, this is awful.” Bokuto had said in a hushed tone, snapping Keishin out of his daze.

And as the next wave had crashed against the shore, Tanaka had collected Natsu, and they’d lifted Asahi out of harm’s way, headed for Takeda’s on Daichi’s order. And upon reaching the man’s home, he’d been greeted with more staggering details about the eccentric beach group.

He frequently saw Bokuto and Akaashi after a shift at the docks, Suga and Daichi stopped in periodically every few days, the cats all made an appearance roughly once a week, the girls were regulars any time they made it into town, and the rest of the Karasuno unit— barring Kageyama and Hinata— showed up once in a while, too. And of all those people that he’d seen on a cyclical basis, he’d only known that the two he didn’t see every day were a level pair.

As he’d helped set up a makeshift med area in Takeda’s house, he’d quickly found that he was surrounded by them.

Upon carefully moving Asahi inside, he’d come face to face with Lev and Yaku glowing brightly enough to light the dim room enough to see by. He’d known the two cats were close, had always been able to see the spark between them, but seeing Lev clutching the unconscious russet feline to himself with a hardline determination that was tempered with gentle adoration amid the light that radiated from their ears while Suga had finished stitching his gut closed was eye-opening.

And that had only been the start.

Over the next few hours, he’d learned that Daichi and Suga were a pair, Bokuto and Akashi as well, Tanaka and little Natsu… and now Noya and Asahi, too. Yachi had surveyed the wing as Asahi had come around with an agonized grimace.

“I… I can’t fix this.” She’d whispered, horror screwing up her cute little face.

“You have to!” Noya had said frantically.

“I can’t! I don’t know where to start. We need Miss Haruka.” She’d whimpered.

“We don’t know where she ended up in this mess, so we’ll have to go off my knowledge right now. We need to see if the wing is dead already. Daichi, can we get wet cloth to wrap it in? We will need it when we remove the tie and see if we have to take it off.” Keishin had asked and Yachi had turned to him with grateful respect.

“I can get it!” Noya had yelped, on his feet in a flash, but Asahi had captured his wrist in a grip that showed veins down through his forearm with a grim expression.

“Stay Noya.” He’d ground out through the excruciating pain and the short crow had frozen. “Just stay.”

Furious, terrified, sorrowful tears had welled in Nishinoya’s mocha eyes, and he’d dropped next to the long-haired crow.

“Okay. I won’t go anywhere without you again.”

The small crow had gone silent as they’d removed the tourniquet, hadn’t complained even once when Asahi drew him up in a suffocating embrace as the pain multiplied another hundredfold. Keishin had never done anything like this; hadn’t had the chance last time because he hadn’t known beforehand. He’d hated putting the large crow through this as much as he’d hated watching his sister die.

But as the large crow had passed out under the onslaught once more, he’d glowed.

Apparently, the soft indigo hue that emanated from his wings had been a surprise to the others as much as to Keishin, because everyone had paused with shock. Noya had stared at the unconscious large crow as if he’d never met him before his face had scrunched up.

“It was you? This whole time? That stupid cat wasn’t just jerking me around.”

Keishin could make heads nor tails of the dumbfounded remark but Lev had stirred with a small smirk.

“Mori’s pretty good at calling ‘em.” He’d said quietly, burying his face in the russet cat’s hair. Tanaka had looked at him in disbelief.

“How are you even talking? Suga’s still stitching up your gaping stomach.” The thrush had looked up at him apologetically.

“I gave him white willow and ginkgo… the combination may have had unexpected effects.”

“Maybe we should give some to Asahi. He’s probably in worse pain than Lev right now.” Bokuto had remarked and Akaashi had returned with Takeda as if on cue.

“Already working on it.” He’d said.

Noya hadn’t heard any of it though. His awed gaze had never left Asahi’s slack face. He’d leaned his head against the crow’s shoulder, that almost reverent look wavering as the hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you know what this means, Asahi? It means that it doesn’t matter if you lose your wing or not. You’ll still get to fly again someday.”

That had been hours ago.

Asahi still breathes and he still has his twisted, disfigured wing. Even in the wake of knowing that he could regrow it, Suga had pressed to try and save it anyway. The thrush had said healing damaged tissues or broken bones— no matter how shattered— was still easier for the leveler link than regenerating them altogether.

That didn’t mean the road to recovery wouldn’t be excruciating. The crow had dropped from the waking world twice more from the pain, even with Akaashi’s questionable willow and ginkgo blend. He had gone pale, a sheen of sweat coating his face, and staunching the blood loss had been a challenge, but he’d been able to hold down fluids which was critical.

Keishin thanks every star in the sky above him that a wing had fewer major arteries than other limbs. Unfortunately, there were no fewer nerves or ligaments, though, and as it stood, the crow has had no feeling beyond the pain radiating from the limb.

Noya hasn’t left his side for more than a few seconds, which was honestly a relief. Keishin didn’t know what to do with that anxious mass of energy and Asahi seemed to handle and contain it with complete ease. He’d even just kind of smiled with a quiet ‘I know’ when Noya had informed him of his glowing status. The banded blond can totally see why they are levelers.

Voices break his train of thought.

“You won’t even know where they are. You leave and it will be just one more thing to worry about.” He hears Daichi say and then Kageyama scoffs. Keishin cocks an eyebrow and heads their way.

“That’s easy for you to say. Your leveler isn’t in the middle of the mountains somewhere.”

“They’re fine, Feathers.” Bokuto says.

“The beanpole has cracked ribs and the blinky cat has a broken shoulder. Your version of fine is pretty warped.” Kageyama snaps.

“They aren’t alone, though Kageyama, there are six of them.” Akaashi tries to reason with him.

“And three of the four that aren’t injured aren’t accustomed to fighting if they run into trouble. And Hinata might be out as well; he hasn’t been sleeping well and his back has been killing him lately.”

“Their numbers should deter most would be assailants. Normal people don’t attack one on four.”

“May I offer my thoughts?” Keishin breaks in and they all turn toward him. Daichi frowns slightly as if he expects to be overridden, but nods just the same.

“You’ve more than helped us; we owe you that much and more.” Keishin dips his head in appreciation and looks at Kageyama who watches him expectantly.

“You should stay.” He says, surprising the others, and the avian prince’s gaze widens just a touch.

“Hinata—”

“Hear me out.” Keishin cuts him off.

“All of your people might be accounted for, but Sheru Bay as a whole hasn’t been so lucky. Most people survived, but last count, we had four dead, and thirteen missing, Miss Haruka among them. That number rose by another two after the second wave hit. Every extra set of hands is a blessing and Sheru Bay needs help.”

“Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I’m not allowed in Sheru Bay.” Kageyama growls.

“You aren’t, but the others are— and at the moment, I doubt it matters as Sheru bay is literally no longer on the map. Suga and Yachi are already trying to help with injuries; Daichi, Tanaka, Bokuto, anyone else you can spare will mean the world to them.

“There’s still close to a month before summer really arrives. Interim shelter is the first concern and we are already hashing that out, but the next thing they will need is sustenance. We can procure water just fine, but we’ve lost a month’s worth of food stores. While Takeda has readily extended what he has left for you guys, the rest of Sheru Bay still has to eat, too. At the very least, you should stay and take care and provide for your group so that they can help do the same for Sheru Bay.”

“I don’t like leaving Hinata out there alone.”

“Have a little faith in your leveler, Feathers; I saw you spar under your father, and you are both formidable opponents. And he isn’t alone. Besides… if I know Hinata at all, he’d rather you stayed, too.” Kageyama’s expression is quite black, but Keishin knows he’s caving at the mention of Hinata’s inclination.

“I will stay until the day after tomorrow. If they haven’t shown up by then, I’m going looking.” He says in a rigid voice.

“If they aren’t back by then, it won’t be just you going to find them.” Bokuto says firmly.

“Wait… wait a moment.” Daichi frowns.

“You saw Kageyama spar back at the rookery? You knew who he was when we came here— knew all of us. Who are you?”

Keishin is surprised it’s taken them almost four years to ask that question. To be fair, he’s pointedly avoided it up till now, but he’s been entrusted with all the beach crew’s secrets today so he doubts he has any right to keep his own.

“My grandfather was one of the advisors to the Grand King. I grew up in the rookery, a few centuries older than you guys, but watching you become the first unit all the same.”

“Why did you leave?” Daichi asks curiously.

“The wharf shop was left to my mother and I came out here to take it over.”

“And why did you never turn us in?” Kageyama asks with a critical gaze.

“I recognized you immediately, and to be honest, I was mystified that you showed up here. But your reasons for leaving were your own. Looking back, I have to say they were probably justified.” He says, his gaze drifting back toward the door and the three glowing level pairs behind it— because apparently Natsu was also grounded like her brother, by pinioning no less.

“We are grateful for your silence.” Daichi says sincerely and Keishin nods.

They all jar as the earth under their feet trembles with another aftershock— one of several already, and Kageyama and Akaashi step back inside to check on the others. As it quickly subsides, the banded blond breathes a mild sigh of relief now that one minor crisis has at least been postponed. It would be less than ideal to split the beach crew even more when they have three critically injured ones right here.

Asahi might have made it through the first few hours, but that destroyed wing is a prime candidate for necrosis and will need to be watched carefully. Lev’s stomach might be stitched up and the cat very lucid, but sepsis could easily infiltrate that injury. Perhaps most concerning of the three is Yaku, who has yet to stir. He’s bruised and battered, one arm broken, but he doesn’t have much for open wounds, which makes determining what is wrong a hundred times more difficult.

If the small cat doesn’t wake by tomorrow, Keishin worries that he maybe never will.

~ ~

It is getting late the following afternoon and the young avian heir has long grown restless by the time a wagon driven by a couple monks rolls up carrying the half dozen missing beach crew along with a rash of sorely needed supplies.

Keishin smiles slightly at the reunion between Kageyama and Hinata. The wagon hasn’t even stopped before the redhead is leaping from the back of it, flying past him, and throwing himself into Kageyama’s waiting embrace. The avian prince ditches discretion altogether, and buries his face into his leveler’s hair, chaste kisses finding his ear and temple.

“Please don’t ask me to leave like that again, idiot.” He says gruffly and Hinata nods and presses into him a little more.

Tsukishima climbs out gingerly with the help of one of the monks, a small, dark haired man who’s careful not to jar a splinted wing while the freckled crow hovers anxiously. Kiyoko and Kenma help Kuroo down, and Keishin has to give the cat props for muffling his curse. He wonders how often those two would have preferred walking to the discomfort of a wagon that bounces across every stone in the road. Yachi joyfully greets them before sharing a brief hug with Shimizu, but the little bunting trails after the female crow with starry eyes until Shimizu spins and plants a decidedly not so chaste kiss on the blond.

Keishin greets the large silver haired monk, a quiet man by the name of Aone, and explains about their small coastal town. He’s surprised to learn that he and the other monk, Moniwa, are from the temple that collapsed on the black cat and the ibis. The bears have brought with them so many things that Keishin wouldn’t have even considered.

There isn’t just food, there is clothing, and tools, and medical supplies. He’s brought all the necessary implements to begin rebuilding, and he’s even brought half a dozen ravens. Keishin has to marvel, because it was one of the last things anyone was thinking about, but one of the most critical things they’d need if they wanted to stay in contact with other towns. Sheru Bay’s own small aviary was destroyed much to Natsu’s extreme distress for the birds they’d lost. Hinata turns toward Daichi with a neutral expression.

“Why are we holed up here? What happened to the beach house?” He asks and Keishin notices the other five pause at the question as well.

“It’s gone. There isn’t even a foundation left and the beach looks nothing like it used to. The only reason we know where it used to be is because the stream is still there.” Tanaka answers for him.

“Eh? It’s really… gone?” Yamaguchi asks with wide eyes.

“Yeah. You want a detailed description of its final moments, you can ask Lev. He and Yaku were inside when the first wave hit.” Bokuto says and Kuroo’s gaze turns sharp.

“They are alright?” He asks, his voice hollow.

“They are still alive, if that is what you are asking…” Tanaka says with a frown, “But they aren’t exactly in stellar condition. Yaku hasn’t woken up yet and Lev is on a mission to eviscerate himself any time he moves. Akaashi and Suga have been doing everything they can, but if Yaku doesn’t come around soon, we may be facing a bad situation.”

“Anything else I should be worried about?” Kuroo asks heavily.

“Asahi’s grounded now, too.” Bokuto offers frankly and all six of them turn horrified eyes to the streaked owl.

“Grounded?” Yamaguchi echoes in a choked voice.

“Yeah… he got caught between a couple walls and one of his wings got destroyed. On the bright side, we found out Noya is his leveler, so he won’t stay that way.” Hinata’s jaw drops.

“Asahi? And Noya?”

“Yeah.” Kageyama murmurs and one of Tsukishima’s brows cocks.

“You mean none of you guys had that figured out?” He asks with a condescending smirk, and Akaashi glances over his shoulder from where he’s helping Aone unload the wagon, the smaller owl’s hand rising.

“I did.” Bokuto’s head jerks toward his leveler, his golden eyes going wide.

“What? Since when?”

“Since Lev let it slip years ago.” Kuroo shakes his head.

“That stupid cat.” He grumbles with a sigh. “That brings the total flightless avian count to what? Four? How did that number quadruple since last year?” He murmurs, one hand rising to his head in a beleaguered gesture. “I wish I’d been here. All of us.”

“No one could have known this would happen, Kuroo.” Kenma says.

“I want to see it.” The freckled crow’s declaration silences them all and everyone turns toward Yamaguchi. His face is set into a resolved expression, his mouth pursed into a thin line.

“Yamaguchi—”

“We haven’t been to Sheru Bay, yet. I want to see it.” He repeats firmly, cutting off the ibis.

“Are you sure?” Hinata asks cautiously. The crow frowns and nods.

“It’s… there isn’t much left of it.” Kageyama says uncertainly.

“I don’t care.” The crow says and Keishin lets out a weighted breath.

“I know a decent vantage point where you can see pretty much the full scope of it. I’ll take you there.” The redhead turns to his leveler.

“I want to go, too.” He says with one of his determined looks and Kageyama’s head tilts but he doesn’t refuse Hinata’s request. The avian prince had been into Sheru Bay twice since returning and Keishin had been right; no one batted an eye at his presence in the wake of this disaster.

“Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima watches the crow with a steep focus, a tension around his eyes, but the freckled crow meets his gaze without flinching.

“It’s okay, Tsukki. I’m going to go. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Kageyama gathers up his leveler— they haven’t broken physical contact since their reunion and it would be foolish to expect anyone else to take Hinata at the moment, and Keishin takes to the sky with a nod. The young level pair and Yamaguchi follow him, the streaked owl tagging along as well.

Keishin has to marvel at the former sentries’ physical condition; Kageyama is barely hindered by Hinata’s extra weight and keeps pace easily beside him. Being in such close proximity with the former first unit drives home everything he already knew about them. They are all in peak physical shape, their stamina and strength impressive, and they are all exceptional at logical analysis and processing. He’d seen them spar in training bouts when his grandfather had brought him to the military compound when he was younger and he remembers being quietly awed at their skill even as budding adolescents.

Now, nearly fully grown adults, they’ve lost a lot of the more childish attributes they’d had back then, their features sharper and movements even more precise and controlled, everything calculated and intentional. He’s never seen them in real action, but he knows they’ve seen actual combat since Tanaka had given him a rough synopsis on their brush with the snake nest after he’d brought Natsu into his shop the week after they’d returned. And he remembers how that gull who’d harassed the small redhead and bunting had looked after Kageyama had been through with him.

They really were a frightening group to take up against… but having gotten to know them, Keishin knows they are so much more than that lionized, untouchable ‘first unit’. They were some of the closest-knit people he’d ever met, and infinitely more compassionate than their ‘warrior’ image and training would have led one to believe. They readily offered most people the benefit of the doubt, were never averse to helping when it was needed, and they were surprisingly vulnerable.

Tanaka was hyper protective of them all, but a complete pushover for the younger redhead sibling. Daichi had gained wings like Kageyama’s with his last molt, and Keishin knew he’d been considerably rattled at nearly having lost the thrush. Suga himself had only gotten more serene after his brush with death, and he’d taken up Yachi’s decision to learn everything he could from Miss Haruka in order to be able to help people. Noya had been irate that he hadn’t been there for the fight and thoroughly given the black cat an earful before Asahi had restrained him from throwing punches. Keishin doubted the large crow could ever hurt anyone with how pacifistic he was in general.

And though he hadn’t seen them as much as the others, the level pair beside him had mellowed with their run in with the snakes. Kageyama takes insults with far more grace than he has in the past, and he is never far from Hinata’s side, the redhead able to completely ease his black moods in moments. Hinata himself… has dimmed somehow. He was still sunny and happy, would still join in on pranks, and was still perpetually optimistic, but… his eyes look older. It was only after he’d asked the black cat about the kid that Keishin had learned how closely they’d actually tangled with the snakes.

And Keishin had lamented that loss of innocence as much as any of the others, no matter how unavoidable it might have been. It had hit them all, but Noya had been extremely upset over that turn of events and Bokuto had taken it especially hard, doing everything in his power to bring that brilliant spark back to the small spiker.

The person who could mitigate the occasional bouts of melancholy best, however, was Kageyama, the dark-haired setter simply pulling him into an embrace with a quiet look of lament. Keishin could tell the gesture had spoken of experience, had rung with solidarity in the form of both support and inherent understanding, and the banded blond had wondered where along the line the avian heir had had the misfortune of taking a life that he knew exactly the most effective way to comfort the redhead.

As Keishin touches down on the roof of a shed on the hillside that Sheru Bay used to be nestled up against, he can’t picture the former first unit like he used to—as nothing more than a cold and calculating team that functioned with perfect efficiency.

They are all human with very human emotions and feelings. They are all as colorfully individual as everyone else and they are just as susceptible to pain. They laugh, they cry, they smile, they argue and play, and they hurt just like all people, and Keishin is gratified to have discovered that.

Yamaguchi stares with wide eyes, and Kageyama lets the redhead down onto his own feet and he steps forward with a slack jaw. Bokuto, who’s seen all this already, had been here when it happened just like him, stands oddly silent behind them, and Keishin can’t bring himself to break it before they’ve had a chance to really take it all in.

Most of Sheru Bay has been stripped down to nothing but bare earth, the remnants of destroyed buildings here and there, splintered bits of wood and debris lacing the landscape. Trees that weren’t uprooted are dying from the seawater that saturated the soil after the two major waves, one of the boats that was docked at their small port resting aground not far from where Keishin’s shop had stood, another blocking the path that would normally skirt along the beach to the location of the beach crew’s old home. Almost nothing remains and it is a shock to the avians seeing it for the first time.

“It… really is all gone.” Shouyou whispers.

“Yeah. The body count is at twelve so far. We still have seven missing.” Keishin supplies with a sigh. And only a few hours back, he’d received word that Miss Haruka had been found. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been found alive. It’s a hard reality; the woman had always reminded him of his mother.

“When we were little,” Yamaguchi says quietly, drawing their attention, “There was this day games thing in the neighboring town like an hour’s flight away. Just one of those ‘air relays’ things they put on for kids. Our parents weren’t able to come, so Akiteru took us. Tsukki didn’t like me at all, but his mother would scold him any time he’d scoff at me, but I didn’t really care. We didn’t live by the coast so there weren’t many gulls for him to blend in with and he was like that with everyone.” A small smile tugs at his mouth before it disappears again.

“We left early in the morning when the sun was just coming up and Tsukki had already won something— I don’t even remember what it was, but he was always taller so his wings were naturally larger than most kids in our age group which gave him an edge.

“I was just getting ready for my turn when the shaking started. Akiteru came out of nowhere and snagged both of us and pulled us away from all the buildings and huddled us up under a tree that I remember seeing sway far enough that I was sure it would snap. When it finally stopped and we went back home, there had been a slide and our entire hillside… there was no home to return to— no house, no community, no family. There weren’t even landmarks so we couldn’t even tell where anything used to be. Everything was gone.” He says and Keishin wonders if the others are reeling at the freckled crow’s words as much as he is.

“I never thought I’d live through something like that again.”

It’s surreal, he thinks, that the crow beside him had also lost people in the same big quake that took his sister. They’d been nowhere near each other, didn’t know the other in the least, and yet… they share the experience. He imagines that most everyone could still remember where they were and what they were doing when that one had ruptured their lives. And he’s positive that centuries from now, they will still all remember this one with just a grim of clarity, too. Hinata is the first to recover.

“You didn’t. Not entirely. We’re all still alive this time— Tsukishima, too.” He says with conviction and a small smile, but Yamaguchi frowns slightly.

“I won’t run from this anymore.” He murmurs his eyes finding the redhead. “Tsukki almost died because of me. If I hadn’t frozen up, he wouldn’t have left in the first place.”

“Yamaguchi… that’s why you guys have the rest of us. When one of us falls short, everyone else will step up. As long as you are with us, we will have your back.” Hinata says and Yamaguchi’s eyes widen just a bit. His dark orbs slide back to the devastated Sheru Bay.

“Is that so?” He asks rhetorically, a smile just barely tugging at his own mouth. Hinata grins.

“Of course!” He says brightly before turning back to his leveler. “Can we go back? I want to see Noya and Asahi. I never got the chance to give them crap for finding out they were levelers after we did!” Kageyama smirks and offers his back to Hinata who happily clambers on.

They all take to the sky after the young level pair, Keishin feeling both lighter and heavier. He absently hopes this isn’t the way it will always be around these guys. He doesn’t know how much more heartbreak and worry over them he can stomach. But… just knowing them, living through their hardships with them… he’s sure that it’s worth it and he knows that he will suffer a thousand more tragedies with them if they will allow it.

Ahead of him, he sees the redhead glance to the side and his face momentarily slacks with surprise. Kageyama can’t see his face, but he does turn his head in inquiry of his motion and Hinata jerks slightly. He says something to Kageyama that Keishin can’t quite hear, and the setter nods before resuming his course.

Then the grounded avian turns and finds the banded blond crow. With a small smile, he points to the hillside beneath them. As Keishin follows his gaze, he sees another cart loaded with goods, it’s driver paused at the junction where the road splits to go down into the ruin of Sheru Bay.

He nods and the redhead grins before turning and hunkering back down across Kageyama’s back. Bokuto has caught sight of the figure as well, but Keishin waves him off, letting the owl know he’ll take care of it. He banks away from them and plunges down toward the cart and driver.

It’s a woman, he muses with surprise as he gets closer, and she looks up at him with sharp dark eyes as he closes in on her. Keishin almost frowns because she almost looks familiar.

But that thought is immediately sidelined as he takes in her appearance. She’s mostly garbed for the early spring weather, but her heavy mantle is left open to the warmer air. Her outfit below is perhaps not the most modest, the thick black bracelet on her arm and the piercings in her ears lending her a more derelict or eccentric appearance. Her blond hair is bleached, he can tell, and it’s pulled back on one side by a pretty mitsudomoe pin. Her arms rest on her knees in front of her, her black wings slack behind her, and he assumes she’s probably a crow and swallows.

Shit. This chick is actually… quite attractive.

He belatedly rues the fact that he volunteered to intercept her.

“Good afternoon!” He calls amiably as his feet touch down. “You, um... seem a little lost. Can I point you in the right direction?” He asks and her head tilts.

“Perhaps. It’s taken me longer to get here since none of you country rubes know how to post any signs. I’m looking for Sheru Bay. Which way?” She says with a scowl that tweaks Keishin’s memory.

“Eh… it’s that way, but there’s nothing left.” He says, pointing down the road into the town. She frowns with a tightness around her eyes.

“Did you live there?” She asks bluntly and he swallows again.

“I did.”

“Then maybe you can tell me where I can find someone. I’m looking for a guy named Ukai. He used to run a shop by the docks.” He blinks stupidly before shaking his head.

“Um… yeah, that would be me, actually.” He supplies, completely dumbfounded.

This is a first. He’s definitely never had some cute punk girl ask after him like this before.

Her eyebrows rise.

“You are a lot younger than I imagined. Are you sure you’re the Ukai I’m looking for?” She asks skeptically, her chin rising with suspicion. He can’t decide if that’s an insult or a compliment. Maybe both?

“Ah. Yes?” He says uncertainly.

“Uh huh. I’ll kick your ass if you are lying to me.” She says bluntly, a sterile expression flattening her mouth, and Keishin almost huffs in surprised amusement.

“I don’t doubt that. May I ask who’s asking?” He says with a wry smirk.

She’s totally adorable.

She frowns darkly and cocks a brow at him.

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

“I’ve only been here the last couple centuries or so. Not long enough to strip away my rookery accent completely yet. Would you have a name to go with that lovely cagey disposition? It might be nice to be able to tell my friends who handed my ass to me.” He murmurs, enjoying the way her scowl wrinkles her face and her arms cross in front of her with affront.

“Keep pushing hotshot, and it won’t be just your ass.” She grumbles with a glare and he laughs.

He feels like he could go on a verbal spar with her for the rest of the day… but he’s sure the rest of the beach crew are waiting on him. Besides, if she’s determined not to tell him, then he might as well quit while he’s behind.

Shame. I bet I could wind her up pretty good.

“Heh. Keep your secrets, then. That road will take you into Sheru Bay— or what’s left of it, but I should probably get going. If you need to find me, ask for Takeda. Anyone can point you in the right direction.” He says with a wave and turns to take off.

“Wait.” She says with a scowl and he pauses. “Wait a moment. I’m… I’m looking for—”

She breaks off and they both look up to see an incoming pair of black wings and Ukai recognizes Tanaka.

“Hey, Ukai. Hinata said you’d need help—”

“Ryuu!” The woman screeches and as the crow lands beside him, the former sentry is nearly bowled off his feet with arms full of the blond. The bald crow blinks before his face goes slack.

“Saeko?” He says with a mystified expression and Keishin blinks.

They know each other?

“Freaking pinfeathers! Saeko!” Tanaka blurts and crushes her in a death grip, swinging her around with a grin.

She laughs and hugs him back and Keishin has the irrational urge to scowl. The crow sets her down and holds her at arm’s length, his face a mask of joyful incredulity.

“Saeko, what the hell? What are you doing here?” She beams back at him.

“Spring came early this year so migration was early, too. We’d been back like two days when the quake hit. We’ve put together as much for supplies as we could come up with for you guys.”

“Is it just you? You came out here alone?”

“Mm!”

“You idiot, that was dangerous! And what if you were followed?”

“Everyone was busy trying to fix the rookery. No one was going to notice me being gone.” She says and Keishin cocks a brow, a tendril of a thought tickling the back of his mind.

“Eh… sorry, Tanaka, but… who is she?” He asks politely. The bald crow straightens and his trademark cocky smile slips into place as he looks down at the blond beside him.

“Ah, sorry! This is Saeko. She’s my crazy sister. She’s the reason the rest of us sentries are insane.” Saeko jolts and punches him in the ribs and Tanaka doubles over with a laugh.

“You brat!” She barks, but Keishin’s chest breathes the slightest sigh of relief, the banded blond never even realizing he’d been holding it.

Sister. Somehow, he’s unreasonably happy to hear that.

“Heh. I can see the family resemblance. Wait… Saeko. Saeko… as in the drummer chick? Your sister is her?” He murmurs to the bald crow and the woman’s brown eyes snap back to him.

“You! You don’t get to say anything. You were most unhelpful.” She growls and Keishin snorts.

“I answered every one of your questions. And you were the one threatening my ass.” He says with amusement and Tanaka brings a hand to his face in embarrassment.

“Again, Saeko? Why do you always do this? This is why Jiji banned you from family gatherings.” He says before reaching for the horse that patiently waits with the cart, a grin still tugging at his mouth.

“You are so dead if you say one more word, Ryuu.” She growls and Tanaka laughs again.

“Come on. The others will be happy to see you.”

Keishin walks the ten minutes back to Takeda’s with them in relative silence, content to listen to the siblings bicker. And the longer he’s around the blond woman, the more entertaining she becomes. If she lives in the rookery, perhaps he will have to make more frequent trips to visit his mother.

They round the corner up the way and Tanaka sucks in a breath. Keishin blinks and follows his gaze and then his jaw drops.

“Feathered cat balls on a stick. They’re gonna be alright.” He murmurs, relief washing through him.

Lev sits in a chair in the evening sunlight, Yaku cradled in his lap… and the small cat’s eyes are open and taking everything in. Despite the nagging voice that states that under no circumstances should Lev have ever gotten up with his stomach like it is— something Keishin is also positive he will catch hell for from his leveler when Yaku realizes, the banded blond smiles, his eyes rising briefly to the sky in thanks.

For the first time in the last two days, he feels the mountain of stress fall away from his shoulders. Asahi will live and even fly again with his leveler there for him. Lev and Yaku will also pull through, although Keishin wonders if this instance will make both of their ears completely white or something. Kuroo will heal like new in a few months, the ibis, too. And they are all back together. A shout from Hinata pulls him from his thoughts and he turns only to be met with curious brown eyes framed by blond hair.

“Eh…” He says, taken off guard by Saeko’s intent stare.

“What?” He asks. Her head tilts.

“That was a hell of an oath. Especially with little ears around.” She says and her gaze pointedly slides toward Natsu who bolts toward them.

Saeko’s face morphs into one of surprise as Tanaka swiftly hands her the horse’s reins before the child throws herself at the bald crow. He catches her up with a grin.

“How’s my little Bel?” He says with a laugh and she rattles off something unintelligible at him punctuated by ‘Baldy’, and Saeko stares as he captures her hands and suspends her in the air with one of his before dragging fingers across her belly. As she screeches with laughter, Tanaka’s feral smirk slips onto his face.

“How many times have I told you? I don’t speak your munchkin babble. Now what were you trying to say?” He asks pausing his assault. Natsu gasps and looks at him with her brow scrunching despite her smile.

“Se?” She squeaks and Tanaka raises a brow and resumes his attack and she squeals again.

“Non!” She gasps, “Mwen—” When he pauses again, she’s breathing hard but she watches him steadily.

“Mwen— I… I no know word!” She squawks when he makes to tickle her again.

“Ah.” He says and catches her up again.

“What do you not know the word for?” He asks and Natsu points at him and then at Saeko. Realization dawns.

“Sister.” He says with a grin and she smiles, her face lighting up like Hinata’s.

“Se… s-sister.”

“Yep, Saeko is my sister.” The little girl stares at her for a long moment before turning back to the bald crow.

“You right. Flowers Bad.” Tanaka sputters as laughter rolls from his gut, and he’s still busting a gut as he sets her down.

“Come on, Munchkin. Saeko’s brought us a bunch of stuff, too. We should take care of it.” He croaks, taking the reins from Saeko and handing them to Natsu. They lead the horse off, leaving Saeko standing beside him with a very bewildered expression.

“She… kinda looks like Hinata.” She says and Keishin grins.

“Your eyes are sharp as they are beautiful.” He laughs and she turns on him with her jaw hanging.

“You—”

“That kid is his honest to god blood sister. I don’t suppose you missed the little pin in her hair either? The sunflowers?” He says and her mouth closes with a click, her eyes drifting in rapid thought.

“No?” She says cautiously.

“Ask him about that. That kid is… unique, especially with regard to Tanaka. That will be a conversation you probably won’t be prepared for. He sure wasn’t.” Keishin laughs. She frowns before looking around at the others, her gaze wide and curious as she takes in the owls and cats, the two bear monks, before she looks back at him.

“I thought they lived on the beach.” She says with narrowed eyes and Keishin cocks a brow at her.

“We did just have an earthquake?” He says and she looks away.

“It’s gone, same way as my shop. I’m sure it will be rebuilt soon enough; that’s the way it goes. Another few years and the town will have a new face, another century people will have halfway forgotten the events of the last few days. That’s… just the flow of life, no matter who it leaves behind.” He says, thoughts of his sister briefly skimming through his head.

Somehow, he can remember her now with far less pain than he had before this quake. Perhaps having been able to save Asahi from the same fate— and by extension, Noya, allows him wistful joy at her memory.

“Who did you leave behind?”

He jars and looks down at Saeko with her sharp brown eyes, unprepared for the question. For a long moment, he mentally stumbles, before smiling slightly.

“My sister. The last big one like this, I lost my sister.” He murmurs, looking back at Lev and Yaku, Hinata chattering happily to them before Kagaeyama calls him over toward Tanaka and the wagon.

“I’m sorry.” She says and he shrugs mildly before turning a devious smirk back on her.

“So I get the feeling there is a particular incident that got you banned from family functions. I feel like it’s a safe bet to assume sake was involved.”

“Why, you—”

“Little ears, remember… although I didn’t peg you as one who’d care about something like that.” He says with a grin. Her jaw works and her wings ruffle like she wants to zing him with a good insult, but can’t decide which to hurl and Keishin full on laughs.

He was right. Winding her up is a blast.

Across the yard in a chair, a lanky gray cat tightens his grasp just a little more around his leveler, ignoring the pain radiating from his gut.

“Hey Mori.” He murmurs, his gaze tracking the banded blond and new female, and the small cat in his arms barely moves at the sound of his name.

“Mm?”

The grey cat grins as the crow laughs while the newcomer nearly spits her teeth at him in frustration.

“I think I can see what you mean when you say there’s this kind of ‘spark’.” He says and the russet ears on his chest shift just enough so he can see what the grey cat is talking about.

“Ah…yep, that would be it.” He says and the lanky cat smiles happily.

Level Pair ; Chapter 1; Chapter 29; Chapter 31

A/N: And that's it for year three. My POV for this one was decided after Ukai's seiyuu passed away as kind of a tribute, but the more I wrote him in, the more no one else seemed even remotely appropriate. Also, welcome to another one of my atypical ships. I stumbled across a couple brilliant pieces while researching Saeko, and have been unable to ship either of them with anyone else since- I invite you to join the madness:

http://www.photosjoy.com/p/92mY9F http://haikyuucrows.tumblr.com/post/140634571603

I was shite for formatting and cleanup, so I apologize for any errors. Heh, Nyx is dead. Im getting pulled in for OT to help other depts, and it's tax season so im already busy as hell. Two 10s and a 12 already, another 12 tomorrow, supposed to play in a Thursday night vb league, and they want me to come in for a few hrs before my flight on friday, and 2 days of travel after that. I feel like I should tie a surrender flag to a stick and wave it at life as it sails by.

My sincerest apologies guys, but I might take a couple days' sabbatical for my own sanity. Pulling crazy sleep dep schedules is fun and all on weekends when I have no real obligations, but when I have to be up at 530 tomorrow for another long day and have to NOT miss a flight the next... yeah, adulting sucks. Again, I'm sorry for the short notice. Love y'all, have a fantastical evening!

#level pair #level horizon #haikyuu #ukai keishin #asanoya #kagehina #saeko tanaka #fanfiction #long post #seriously #saeko & ukai #i totally fell into this ship before i even realized what happened

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sweetcerac · 7 years ago

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Birds Of Wonder Blog Tour!

Birds of Wonder by Cynthia Robinson : “One August morning while walking her dog, high-school English teacher Beatrice Ousterhout stumbles over the dead body of a student, Amber Inglin, who was to play the lead in Beatrice's production of John Webster's Jacobean tragedy, The Duchess of Malfi. Barely able to speak, Beatrice calls the police. That is to say, she calls her daughter. Jes is a detective with two years of experience under her belt and a personal life composed primarily of a string of one-night-stands, including the owner of the field in which Beatrice has found Amber. In addition to a house and a field, Child Services lawyer Liam Walsh owns a vineyard, where Amber Inglin, along with a handful of other teens who've had difficulty negotiating the foster system, was an intern. Set among the hills and lakes of upstate New York and told in six vibrantly distinct voices, this complex and original narrative chronicles the rippling effects of a young girl's death through a densely intertwined community. By turns funny, fierce, lyrical and horrifying, Birds of Wonder probes family ties, the stresses that break them, and the pasts that never really let us go.“

This book looks super intriguing and I can’t wait for it’s release! To celebrate it’s release, I have an interview with the author and a sneak peek excerpt from the book!

________________________________________________________

Interview with Cynthia Robinson!

What inspired you to write Birds of Wonder? When I was in my mid-teens, a girl was found—much as in the opening chapters of BIRDS OF WONDER—in a field near my house, by a woman walking her dog. Girls found in fields are presumed dead, and that was the case here. The girl, eerily similar in appearance to me, had been raped and strangled, and her arms amputated. This violent crime shook up my smallish Tennessee town for a good long time—my mother didn’t want to let me out of her sight. And it clearly impacted me, remaining deeply lodged in my subconscious for, literally, decades. Many other concerns and events informed the novel’s conception, often relating to exploitation of and/or violence against women, but the central kernel was the finding, so many years ago, of that young woman’s body, in my home town, where “things like that” ‘didn’t happen.’

What advice would you give readers interested in reading Birds of Wonder? How should they approach the story?

Don’t expect a traditional crime novel or psychological thriller all the way through. It does start out that way, but then—purposefully—veers off into other territory. Be ready for a few tough moments. All justified (I believe and hope) by the plot.

Who are your favorite authors you like to read and/or follow?

I read everything by Kate Atkinson. Love Javier Mari’as (in Spanish), and Lola Lo’pez Monde’jar (ditto). Noy Holland, Kazuo Ishiguro, Rabih Alameddine. James Lasdun. And I could go on, but I won’t!

When do you find the time to write?

My sweet spot for writing is in the late afternoon to early evening. Ideally I get 2-3 hours (daily). Obviously, sometimes this isn’t possible, but I try to carve out a spot, even if half an hour, each and every day, so as not to lose contact with my work.

How has career at Cornell Univiersity influenced your writing style?

For a good long time, my academic career kept me from writing fiction at all (or, perhaps more accurately, I allowed it to do that). No more! In the positive column, my work as an academic (both as a teacher and a researcher) has given me focus and discipline, a deep knowledge of the past and of other languages and cultures, and a treasure trove of material I am beginning to tap only now. My published (or soon-to-be published) fiction, for the most part, has steered entirely clear of the academic sectors of my life and knowledge, but I am changing that…

What are you working on now?

a novel set in a hotel in Bloomsbury, in London. The protagonist is a ghost. It circles themes of loss, regret, love… It time-jumps, it uses figures from the (in)famous Bloomsbury Group as secondary characters. If I say more, I might jinx it, but I really am loving this project. It’s in its fourth draft, and I very much hope to deliver it to my agent toward the midpoint of the current calendar year. I believe that there will be short fiction spin-offs from this project, but for the moment I am focused like a laser on getting the draft in shape, to where I want it.

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers?

Read, lots. And then read some more. Find the process that works for you (mine involves whiteboards and note cards…), which will take some experimentation. Find the schedule that works for you, and stick to it. Ass-in-chair is the best way to get words onto the page. You might decide you hate them, and you might even erase them, but you will have written.

We noticed you're very active on Instagram! What sorts of photos do you like sharing?

I’m not a Bookstagrammer in the sense that I have some sort of system for reading and reviewing books. But most of my posts (except for the bunny part — the bunnies speak for themselves, or I often put words into their mouths…) do have to do with books and reading. I’m a very visual person, and so enjoy coming up with creative compositions that help to express, visually, what I feel about a particular book, or where I am in my reading process of it. I read like a writer, which means cannibalistically, always out for something that inspires me or helps me solve a particular problem, so my IG is maybe a bit chaotic compared to the pages of others. I’m also trying to include more literature from Spain, or from the middle ages, not to burden people with boring stuff, but just to introduce a little variety and wider awareness into my feed. Anything you don’t like, you can scroll past! I also am thinking about how to incorporate references to music that I associate with certain books or reads… just starting on that right now, so it’s still just a kind-of mess in my head at this point!

_________________________________________

Sneak Peek Excerpt!

Edward painted girls. Girls, in fact, were his discovery. He found them, mostly in magazines, the filthier the better. They had to be white, so the light could shine through the skin, not just on it. His chosen ones, he cleaned up. Heads and shoulders—never bodies. Faces framed by billows of hair you could sink your face into, necks like warm, slender columns of marble, clavicles bowed like a bird’s wing, the hollows dark and secretive. With every passing week, his girls were inching closer and closer toward perfection—according to his particular definition of the term—frozen in that exquisite moment between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, when molecules and cells twine themselves into lustrous hair, clear pink nails, skin like butter and cream. His girls, though idealized--his gallerist wielded the adjective like a bludgeon; Edward would have bet his nonexistent retirement savings the woman had never read Plato—were also heart-stoppingly close to real. Each eyelash a whip of three-dimensional beauty, skin textured to believability, inviting touch—he’d learned a thing or two from his days as a photorealist, his girls looked as though they might burst right off the canvas. But they were frozen there, in space and in time, in the moment he had captured, saving them from the inevitable slide—from perfection there was nowhere to go but down—into the prosaic, the everyday, decay and decrepitude. And his girls represented a sacrifice. Up until two years ago, he’d had a good gallery in MidTown. But then he’d been doing something the art world recognized, derivative though it was. A well-known critic had even attended Edward’s MFA show—he now wrote for the The New Yorker; Edward kept a notebook of his reviews, penning dissenting comments, precisely and in red, in the margins. The man had hailed his work as a new twist in Photorealism—meat-packing district diner scenes, transvestites after they’d been clubbing all night. The later the better—the baggier the under-eye circles, the redder the zits and the scars beneath the makeup. His work had been lauded because of the outré subject matter (it was a cheap shot and he’d known exactly what he was doing when he’d taken it). Following the critic’s review, he’d begun to sell, at first only a trickle, it was true, but he’d been on his way, even a couple of musems had bought small pieces, and eventually he was living decently on the sale of his work, the leaner times supplemented with the steadiness of underpaid teaching. But then had come the epiphany. One summer evening after an opening—not his, but an artist also represented by his gallery, they’d been a kind of fraternity back then, now they all avoided him—he’d followed a golden-haired girl through the park, the dying light on her skin wouldn’t let him do otherwise. Even though he’d lost her—and he’d had no idea what he’d have said even if he’d caught up to her—by the time he’d reached his studio, he’d known he couldn’t keep doing it.

Cynthia Robinson is a writer and art historian based in Ithaca, New York. Her short fiction has been published by The Arkansas Review, Epoch, The Missouri Review, Slice, and others. She is Mary Donlon Alger Professor of Medieval and Islamic Art at Cornell University and has recently, following a very long hiatus, returned to fiction with her first novel, Birds of Wonder.

Birds of Wonder will be available via Amazon and other fine booksellers on February 20, 2018. To learn more visit cynthiarobinsonbooks.com and connect with Robinson on Goodreads and Instagram.

#blogtour #bookevent #goodreads #books

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elizabethleslie7654 · 7 years ago

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The Anti-White, Post-Christian Church

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by Gaius Marcius

John Piper is the preeminent evangelical proponent of White guilt. To overcome his own guilt about growing up as a privileged White in the segregated South, Piper inculcates self-loathing in White Christians who may not know how much they have to be sorry for. To atone for the sin of being White in America, Piper has, among other things, adopted a Black child of his very own, organized his Bethlehem Church to actively promote non-Whites into leadership positions, and praised the so-called music of Christian rapper Lecrae. Piper also regularly condemns Donald Trump and White identity politics while making excuses for Black identity politics, even after his favorite non-Whites abandon him for explicitly racial reasons.

Unlike many anti-White activists who are liberal or secular, and therefore immediately suspect within the evangelical community, Piper is relatively conservative on many social issues, and he preaches an anti-racist Christianity that makes religious conservatives reluctant to defend their own culture and race, even though many evangelicals share with the Alt Right an emphasis on tradition, personal virtue, community, and spiritual, as opposed to materialistic, values that should make the two groups natural allies.

Piper structures his articles around some basic anti-racist talking points, generally ones that could be refuted even by a novice race realist, and then squeezes in some non sequiturs and a few cherry picked Bible passages. Piper’s articles conform to the inoffensive, socially acceptable opinions most Christians have been taught since childhood; they are plausibly religious without being intolerant. Unfortunately, Piper’s method is entirely lacking intellectual content and so can be used to make a Christian virtue out of literally any ridiculous, self-destructive behavior. In the following essay I will use Piper’s logic to show that chopping off your hands and feet is a Christian virtue. This essay was inspired by a piece that Piper wrote to commemorate the Loving v. Virginia Supreme Court case, and will be more interesting after you slog through Piper’s tendentious article. There really is no substitute for experiencing the original.

Celebrating the Beauty of Weakness

Forty years ago, on June 12, 2020, the United States Suprema Corte de Justicia de la Nacion declared unconstitutional all state laws that prohibited Voluntary Amputation (VA). The case was called Smythe v. Iowa. Mark and Katherine Smythe were determined to have their hands and feet surgically removed, but every doctor in their home state of Iowa refused to perform the procedure, citing Muslim religious objections to “self-maiming” other than female genital mutilation.

After losing an initial lawsuit against the AIMA (American Islamic Medical Association), the Smythes wrote to Attorney General Latifa Washington to start a legal action for violation of their religious liberty. Latifa referred the case to the American Civil Liberties Union. The original judge, Athanasius Martel, who had handed down the verdict, refused to reconsider his earlier decision. He argued,

Almighty God created the humanity with a body with discrete parts and powers and placed them in a natural world suited to their bodily condition. But for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such amputations. The fact that he joined the body together by nature in the mother’s womb and by providence in his divine plan shows that he did not intend the body to be unnaturally divided.

The Suprema Corte was unanimous in favor of the Smythe family, observing that laws against Voluntary Amputation were “designed to maintain ableist supremacy”.

At the time of the Suprema Corte decision, sixteen states of primarily European demography still enforced laws prohibiting VA. New Hampshire did not amend its state constitution on the issue for thirty years (2050), and Idaho took until 2052.

Important as Ever

This is a court decision worth celebrating. But far more important than the legalization of Voluntary Amputation in one nation is the fact that God’s revealed will for the world is not undermined but advanced when men and women of different abilities choose to become weak for Christ. That is a startling and controversial claim in the face of diverse opposition to Voluntary Amputation in our own day.

From the White community, a spokesman says, “How can a White man fulfill his obligation to provide for his family when he has intentionally handicapped himself? Call it what it is: Selfish, self-imposed genocide and extinction of the White work ethic.”

From the White evangelical community, another says, “I would never Voluntarily Amputate. Why? Because I believe God made each person fearfully and wonderfully, knitting them together in their mother’s womb. (Psalm 139). He made them uniquely different and intended that these distinctions remain.”

From the Black community, one spokesman says, “Voluntary Amputation undermines [African-Americans’] ability to win athletic scholarships and introduce our children to Black role models who accept their physical identity with pride.”

Against all of these objections, I believe it is as important as it ever has been that Christians settle it in their minds that Voluntary Amputation in Christ is not only a beautiful picture of Christ’s sacrifice for His Church, but also a flesh-and-blood imitation of the strength in weakness Christ exhibited by submitting to Incarnation (Philippians 2:7-8).

Moreover, the common cultural ban on Voluntary Amputation lies at the heart of the physical division in the church. I would go further and say that opposition to Voluntary Amputation is one of the deepest roots of distance, disrespect, and hostility in the world. Show me one place in the world where Voluntary Amputation is frowned upon, and yet the able and disabled groups still have equal respect and honor and opportunity. I don’t think it exists.

Add to this that, since the recent presidential election, the ugly forces of hateful and angry ableist supremacy have felt empowered to show their colors in America more openly than for the last forty years. Just two weeks ago, I spoke with a friend whose double amputee (by choice) parents have lived as American citizens in the same neighborhood in California for decades, only to find their house, soon after the election, for the first time ever, spray-painted with slurs telling them to “give themselves a hand.”

Search Your Heart

I remember from the time I was a teenager growing up in South Carolina how the arguments from “nature” were used, and carried the day for most of us in our blindness to the fullness of biblical truth. “Birds have wings, cats have tails, and humans have hands and feet. This is the way God meant it to be. So, it’s against nature for people to cut off their own healthy limbs.”

Flowing from all these arguments against Voluntary Amputation is an inevitable pressure on all social structures to institutionalize ableist supremacy, especially among young people who might choose the noble path of VA if they hang out with the disabled. So, that includes neighborhoods and schools especially. No matter how much love or goodwill you may have, if my son or daughter with a self-imposed “handicap” is unacceptable as a spouse for your son or daughter, then you will keep your family at a distance from mine. And the social order will reflect that distance. And the desire for that distance will inevitably breed disrespect, suspicion, and antagonism. For all these reasons, Christians of every physical ability should search their hearts and search the Scriptures, and bring their hearts, by the power of God’s Spirit into line with God’s word.

Biblical Beauty of Voluntary Amputation

Let me simply give five summary pointers to the kind of arguments that show the biblical beauty of VA in Christ.

1. The biblical description of how so-called physical differences emerged from one pair of human beings, Adam and Eve, shows that VA does not contradict God’s purpose for diversity in this world and the next.

I agree that physical diversity is God’s good plan for humanity, and that it serves to glorify God more than sameness would have. This physical diversity will mark the people of God in the age to come. Our salvation in Christ does not obliterate all differences. He redeems, refines, and enriches them in the togetherness of his kingdom. The final image of heaven is “every tribe and language and people and nation” (Revelation 5:9; 7:9).

Some have argued that God’s will for diversity, therefore, rules out Voluntary Amputation, which “rebels” against the differences. They speak of the disabled as “deficient” and lacking the “benefits” of intact bodies. They speak of the “dissection room” where all God’s intentions for physical differences are destroyed.

The first thing to say in response to this view is that we must not overlook the fact that all ability levels and disabilities came from one human pair. God “made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth” (Acts 17:26). This is important because in the sad history of ableist “science,” which justified prejudice on the basis of VA’s having a different ability than non-amputees, the message of the Christian Scriptures constrained the development of merit based ideals of human achievement. For all the misuses of the Bible to justify normative physicality and subjugation, the teaching of a single common ancestor for all humans has been a massive deterrent to such abuses. In other words, “ability” is a fluid concept with no clear boundaries.

God seems to delight not just in three or five, but in thousands of variations of human beings. In fact, many today would argue that the concept of ability is unhelpful altogether because there are no clear lines that can be drawn, and the ones that are drawn are not genetically or morally significant. It is significant that when God foresees the physical diversity of the coming kingdom in Luke 5:31 and Matthew 11:28, he speaks not of the strong and powerful, but of “the sick,” and “the weary” and those “bearing heavy burdens.”

After the flood, God set in motion a process of increasing diversification of humanity. “From these the coastland peoples spread in their lands, each with his own language, by their clans, in their nations” (Genesis 10:5). He is not concerned with limiting diversity to a few groups. According to the text, he planned the multiplication of increasing numbers of peoples.

This leads me to conclude that the Voluntary Amputees add to the diversity of the human race, rather than diluting it. The scope of the world’s peoples is so huge that there is no serious possibility that VA will reduce the diversity of peoples. There is no melting pot. There is only a stew pot. And there always will be.

2. The Bible forbids the independent pride in one’s own abilities that is increased by physical prowess.

The instinctive, “natural” concern for our own physical well-being is part of the sin nature Christians are commanded to strive against. The goal is not to maximize ability or perfect physical appearance. The issue is this: Will there be one common allegiance to the true God in this life, or will there be divided affections? The prohibition in God’s word is not against VA, but against selfishly viewing your body as your own possession to do with what you will.

We see this most clearly in Christ’s teaching in Matthew 5:29-30, “If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.” This is the New Testament application of the Old Testament ritual of circumcision practiced by Israel as a sign of the self-denial that God requires.

3. In Christ, our oneness is profound and transforms ability and “disability” from barriers to blessings.

In Christ, physical differences cease to be obstacles to deep, personal, intimate fellowship, including marriage.

You have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. Here there is not Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free; but Christ is all, and in all. (Colossians 3:9–11)

When Christ is our all, and when Christ is in all, differences of ability change from being barriers to become blessings. Even “handicaps” — and the most severe of them — are present in the new “race,” the church. The head of this race is no longer Adam, but “the last Adam,” Jesus Christ (1 Corinthians 15:45). God aims that in this new “race” of humans, all types in the world will be included: “Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.”(Luke 14:21). Voluntary Amputation in this new humanity is one manifestation, and one means, of Christ being all in all.

4. God severely disciplined the able and blessed the “disabled” in Scripture.

God’s servant Elisha possessed a trait that would mark him as “deficient” in his day.

“Then he went up from there to Bethel; and as he was going up by the way, young lads came out from the city and mocked him and said to him, “Go up, you baldhead; go up, you baldhead!” When he looked behind him and saw them, he cursed them in the name of the LORD. Then two female bears came out of the woods and tore up forty-two lads of their number.” (2 Kings 2:23-24)

What is most significant about this context is that God does not get angry at Elisha; he gets angry at the boys for criticizing Elisha for his perceived “weakness”. God was not pleased with this criticism, and his punishment was swift and startling.

Likewise, the blessings of God come to those who are “disabled” like the blind man healed by Jesus.

As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him. (John 9:1-3)

Arrogant use of modern medicine has deprived Jesus of opportunities to display God’s glory. We should change our perspective; so-called disabilities are not problems to be solved but chances to share in God’s work.

5. In Christ, the good effects of Voluntary Amputation are worth the challenges it can bring.

Will it be harder live a comfortable daily life as an amputee? Will it be harder for the children? Maybe. Maybe not. But since when is that the way a Christian thinks? Life is hard. And the more you love, the more painful it gets.

The risks are huge. It’s hard to take a child and move into a diverse neighborhood where he may be teased or ridiculed. It’s hard to help a child be a Christian in a secular world where his beliefs are mocked. Whoever said that living with no feet and no hands was supposed to be trouble free? It’s one of the hardest things in the world. It just happens to be right and rewarding.

Here is where Christ makes the difference. Christ does not call us to a prudent life, but to a God-centered, Christ-exalting, justice-advancing, countercultural, risk-taking life of love and courage. Christians are people who move toward need and truth and justice, not toward comfort and security. Life is hard. But God is good. And Christ is strong to help.

Who knows what blessings through pain God may have in store? Voluntary Amputation has an amazing potential for great joy and peace. Yes, there are exceptions: a self-reliant father may never speak to his bedridden son-in-law. But another wonderful possibility exists. Indeed, it comes to pass over and over through VA.

A once-bigoted group of relatives is forced to see as a person the “burden” who just joined their family. The newcomer into the family is not just a burden any more. Over time the suspicions and prejudices and hostilities die away, and something beautiful is born: reconciliation and respect and harmony, spreading out in ways no one thought possible. The once-angry father now views all his disabled colleagues at work differently.

Shine with the Glory of Christ

It is good that laws against Voluntary Amputation have disappeared in America. But civil laws are not the main concern of the church of Jesus Christ. Our primary citizenship is in heaven, not America (Philippians 3:20). Our main aim is not to constrain the behavior of unbelievers by laws. Our aim is to bring the new, redeemed humanity — the church of Christ — into conformity with his will.

Our aim is to magnify Christ in this world. The freedom and the beauty and peace of Voluntary Amputation is one ray of the glory of Christ that should be shining from this new humanity — this “chosen race” (1 Peter 2:9) — which Jesus Christ died and rose again to create.

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flauntpage · 7 years ago

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DGB Grab Bag: Traveling Jagrs, Mythical 1917, and Nutso Billy Smith

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: This KHL player – This is technically from last week, but qualifies for this week's list due to the time zone difference.

The second star: The Travelling Jagrs add a member –

You've seen these guys before. They're a roving pack of Jagr impersonators who represent every one of the star's many stops around the hockey world. Now that he's in Calgary they need a new member, and the auditions seem to be going well.

The first star: Nathan Walker's butt makes history– He's the first Australian to ever play in the NHL, which earned him a call from the prime minister, during which he awkwardly had to talk about his own butt until the PM said "Well that's fantastic."

Bonus points to the Australian ambassador to the U.S., who shows up as a supporting character in this story and somehow has this actual name.

Be It Resolved

The first week of the season featured plenty of impressive performances, some of which even closed in on all-time records. In fact, you probably got pretty used to seeing stats like this:

Or this:

And eventually, you probably stopped and went: Wait, what the heck was going on back in 1917?

You wouldn't be alone. The NHL has this weird thing about its history. The league has been around for 100 years, as they're constantly reminding us this season. But for the most part, they tend to ignore the first quarter-century or so and just skip right to the Original Six era starting in the 1940s. Plenty of casual fans have no idea that there were once teams like the Pittsburgh Pirates and St. Louis Eagles and Hamilton Tigers, and unless you're Dick Beddoes you don't know about Joe Malone and other stars of those early years. To hear the league tell it, history basically begins when Gordie Howe and Maurice Richard showed up, and everything before that was some sort of warmup.

And then we see all these stats show up this week, and you think "Gee, the 1917 version of the NHL sounds fun as hell."

I think the league should embrace this. Ideally, they'd do that by marketing their entire history, not just three-quarters of it, but that ship has sailed. The league has spent decades making it clear that they don't want to do that, so I'm not going to bang my head against a wall.

No, I think the league should go in the other direction. So be it resolved, the NHL needs to start making stuff up about the 1917-18 season.

It's a perfect opportunity. Nobody knows anything about what was going on back then anyway, so you may as well have fun with it. The NHL should just start dropping random "facts" about their inaugural season and see how long it takes everyone else to catch on. Stuff like:

In 1917, it was a minor penalty for a goaltender to let his skates touch the ice.

There were five pucks on the ice at all times, but you could only score with the one that had bees inside it.

Player awarded an automatic penalty shot any time an opposing goaltender made a save.

The league only started with only four teams, but quickly dropped to three because one of the arenas burned down. (Wait, that one is actually true.)

Goalies wore full face masks, but they were made out balsa wood and didn't have eyeholes.

Jaromir Jagr won rookie of the year.

Literally everyone involved was drunk at all times. (Also probably true.)

Have some fun with it, NHL. You've never told us anything about that first season before, so you've got a blank canvas to work with. Don't let it go to waste.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

While Walker is the first Australian-trained player in league history, he was born in the UK, meaning there has still yet to be an Australian-born NHLer. According to the hockey-reference.com database of player birthplaces, that leaves 16 countries that have produced one and only one NHL player. That includes this week's obscure player: Willi Plett.

Plett was born in Paraguay to Soviet parents but raised in Ontario, where he didn't start playing organized hockey until he was nearly in his teens. He was a big kid who could also play, and he was picked in the fifth round of the 1975 draft by the Atlanta Flames. He debuted that year, playing four games, then scored 33 goals as a rookie in 1976-77 to win the Calder. He'd top that with 38 goals in the team's first year in Calgary in 1980-81, a season that saw him become the first player to ever have that many goals and at least 230 PIM. (He's since been joined in that club by eight other players.)

He was traded to the North Stars in 1982 because in those days, everyone who could fight had to serve some time in the Norris Division. He played five years in Minnesota, then ended his career with a season in Boston after they nabbed him from the Rangers in the waiver draft.

Overall, Plett was a skilled tough guy, or maybe a tough skill guy depending on how you wanted to look at it. He crossed the line once or twice, including a nasty stick-swinging incident with Wings' goalie Greg Stefan that earned him a big suspension, but he was generally considered a respected enforcer in an era packed with them. He finished with 834 games, 222 goals and 2,572 PIM, one of only six players to record 200+ goals and 2,500+ PIM.

(And yes, his name was "Willi", not Willie or Willy. It's an Eastern European thing. What, you want to tell this guy that he spells his name wrong?)

The NHL Actually Got Something Right

Given what happen in Las Vegas two weeks ago, it felt like there was really no right way for the Golden Knights to handle their home opener on Tuesday. A big splashy ceremony would have felt inappropriate, obviously. But at the same time, it's the first home game in franchise history; you can't treat it like any other game, because there haven't been any others. The team was left to walk what seemed like a near-impossible line.

And they basically nailed it. On Tuesday, they managed to be respectful without being maudlin. They found a way to say what needed to be said without making it all about them, and hit the right notes in the process.

Does that fix anything? Not even close, as others have argued. But we knew they weren't going to be able to do that. So they did what they could.

When these things are done well, they always seem easy in hindsight. But this couldn't have been. As Elliotte Friedman pointed out, the Knights no doubt spent weeks preparing a big show designed to make an impression on their new home. It's almost a tradition that new teams have to do something embarrassingly over-the-top to mark their first game, as Grab Bag readers already know all about. Instead, the Knights had to scrap all that (including a mascot unveiling) for something more fitting.

And it worked. Full credit to the team and league for making it happen. And if they want to loosen up a bit and have some fun at tonight's second game, that's cool too. Things won't ever go back to normal in Las Vegas, but they'll inch their way in that direction, and the NHL can be a small part of that.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Today is Friday the 13th, which conjures images of a madman in a goalie mask hacking and slashing innocent people to pieces. Or, as NHL fans of the 1980s called it, Billy Smith.

Yes, it's our old pal Smith, the craziest goaltender to ever strap on the pads. When he wasn't winning four straight Stanley Cups, he was blazing a trail that would be followed by guys like Ron Hextall, Patrick Roy, Ray Emery, and others. He was nuts.

How nuts? Well, today's video features a selection of suspension-worthy stick fouls involving Smith and just one of the NHL's other 20 teams from a single playoff series. It's still five minutes long. You do the math.

Our clip begins with Game One of the 1983 final between Smith's Islanders and the Edmonton Oilers. We're midway through the first period, with the Islanders leading 1-0, and the Oilers have the puck deep in the New York zone. Glenn Anderson circles the net on a wraparound, then mysteriously falls over for no reason. Huh. Might want to see a replay on that one.

On a second look, we get a clear view of Smith executing a one-handed slash to Anderson's knee. Let's just point out two things. First, that play is dangerous and downright dirty, and should absolutely be a penalty if not an outright suspension. Second…I mean, that's a pretty cool move, right? Think of the combination of timing, hand-eye coordination and arm strength you need to pull that off and score a direct hit. I bet he couldn't do that again if he tried!

We skip ahead to late in game two, as Wayne Gretzky sets up behind the net. We used to call that Gretzky's "office," because it was where he did his best work. Unfortunately, he then skates out to the side of the net, which is Billy Smith's office, in the sense that it's where he performs amputations.

Yes, Smith manages to pull off the exact same move again, hacking Gretzky on the knee. That leads to a stare down, followed by a scrum. I can't tell who every player on the ice is, but the Oilers have Gretzky, Anderson and Jari Kurri, while the Islanders have a Sutter. So, advantage New York.

The announcer, longtime Islanders homer Jiggs McDonald, is great here. "Smith with a swing at the puck, and Gretzky has gone down like he was shot." Those 1980s pucks sure were tricky, always disguising themselves as the MVP's kneecap.

"You have to remember back to the time when Billy Smith… did it to Anderson." Ah, yes, back to those distant and hazy times of literally 48 hours ago. We were all so young then.

"He didn't hit Anderson obviously that bad." These announcers are great. "They're acting like a bunch of little kids now." Seriously, so great.

Hey, can we just point that legendary linesman Swede Knox is looking sharp out there? Not a hair out of place.

Meanwhile, a policeman who weighs 120 pounds and is clearly packing a loaded gun just casually climbs over the glass behind the bench to settle some fans down. He's never seen again. My guess is he's still there.

Gretzky is furious, getting in the face of referee Wally Harris to plead his case. I can't read his lips, but I'm pretty sure he's explaining that dangerous stick-related fouls need to be called consistently, even when they're committed by star players late in crucial playoff games.

Smith does indeed get five minutes, which needless to say outrages our neutral announcers. "Look how low the stick is!" If I'm ever charged with a violent crime, I want these two to be my defense lawyers.

We cut to the end of the game, as Edmonton's turns the tables by spearing Smith, causing the goalie to execute a full backflip in his crease while shedding all his equipment, Beetle Bailey-style. You'd think this would make the Islanders angry, but Dave Semenko is standing nearby so everyone just pretends they didn't notice.

For the record, the NHL responded to all this by being furious at…the Oilers. For complaining too much about the Anderson slash. As league VP Brian O'Neill put it, "[Oilers coach Glen] Sather has created a situation where Billy Smith is a monster. Billy Smith has had his problems, but he's made an effort to tone it down." Seriously, right? He's slashing guys in the knee now instead of directly in the eye. If he tones it down any further he'll be hacking ankles, and at that point why even bother?

We skip ahead to later in the series, as Anderson gets his payback by blatantly running Smith on a loose puck. That leads to Smith dramatically dragging himself back towards his crease like a wounded Terminator before making a miraculous recovery once he realizes there's no penalty being called.

Our last moment comes from the final game of the series, as Smith nudges Anderson and gets rewarded with a swat to the head that once again causes him to temporarily die. Smith basically admitted to taking a dive after the game, telling reporters ''I was hurt about as much as Gretzky was hurt in the second game…when I hit Gretzky he lay down and he cried to the referee, so I just took a chapter out of his book. I put myself on my back, and I squirmed and kicked and I played dead just like he did."

I mean, can you imagine someone dropping that quote today? We'd all lose our minds for a week. Back then, everyone shrugged and went "Yeah, seems reasonable".

By the way, the Islanders won the series in four games, and Smith got the Conn Smythe. I think he won this round, you guys.

[Turns earnestly towards camera.] If you'd like to learn more about Billy Smith losing his mind, please enjoy clips of him getting into it with Scott Stevens, fracturing Curt Fraser's cheekbone, and fighting everyone from Tiger Williams to Eddie Johnstone to Lanny McDonald.

Smith was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1993, the only goalie to make it in that decade. HHOF officials could not be reached for comment, as they were all suffering from mysterious knee injuries.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at [email protected] .

DGB Grab Bag: Traveling Jagrs, Mythical 1917, and Nutso Billy Smith published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

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amtushinfosolutionspage · 7 years ago

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DGB Grab Bag: Traveling Jagrs, Mythical 1917, and Nutso Billy Smith

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: This KHL player – This is technically from last week, but qualifies for this week’s list due to the time zone difference.

The second star: The Travelling Jagrs add a member –

You’ve seen these guys before. They’re a roving pack of Jagr impersonators who represent every one of the star’s many stops around the hockey world. Now that he’s in Calgary they need a new member, and the auditions seem to be going well.

The first star: Nathan Walker’s butt makes history– He’s the first Australian to ever play in the NHL, which earned him a call from the prime minister, during which he awkwardly had to talk about his own butt until the PM said “Well that’s fantastic.”

Bonus points to the Australian ambassador to the U.S., who shows up as a supporting character in this story and somehow has this actual name.

Be It Resolved

The first week of the season featured plenty of impressive performances, some of which even closed in on all-time records. In fact, you probably got pretty used to seeing stats like this:

Or this:

And eventually, you probably stopped and went: Wait, what the heck was going on back in 1917?

You wouldn’t be alone. The NHL has this weird thing about its history. The league has been around for 100 years, as they’re constantly reminding us this season. But for the most part, they tend to ignore the first quarter-century or so and just skip right to the Original Six era starting in the 1940s. Plenty of casual fans have no idea that there were once teams like the Pittsburgh Pirates and St. Louis Eagles and Hamilton Tigers, and unless you’re Dick Beddoes you don’t know about Joe Malone and other stars of those early years. To hear the league tell it, history basically begins when Gordie Howe and Maurice Richard showed up, and everything before that was some sort of warmup.

And then we see all these stats show up this week, and you think “Gee, the 1917 version of the NHL sounds fun as hell.”

I think the league should embrace this. Ideally, they’d do that by marketing their entire history, not just three-quarters of it, but that ship has sailed. The league has spent decades making it clear that they don’t want to do that, so I’m not going to bang my head against a wall.

No, I think the league should go in the other direction. So be it resolved, the NHL needs to start making stuff up about the 1917-18 season.

It’s a perfect opportunity. Nobody knows anything about what was going on back then anyway, so you may as well have fun with it. The NHL should just start dropping random “facts” about their inaugural season and see how long it takes everyone else to catch on. Stuff like:

In 1917, it was a minor penalty for a goaltender to let his skates touch the ice.

There were five pucks on the ice at all times, but you could only score with the one that had bees inside it.

Player awarded an automatic penalty shot any time an opposing goaltender made a save.

The league only started with only four teams, but quickly dropped to three because one of the arenas burned down. (Wait, that one is actually true.)

Goalies wore full face masks, but they were made out balsa wood and didn’t have eyeholes.

Jaromir Jagr won rookie of the year.

Literally everyone involved was drunk at all times. (Also probably true.)

Have some fun with it, NHL. You’ve never told us anything about that first season before, so you’ve got a blank canvas to work with. Don’t let it go to waste.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

Plett was born in Paraguay to Soviet parents but raised in Ontario, where he didn’t start playing organized hockey until he was nearly in his teens. He was a big kid who could also play, and he was picked in the fifth round of the 1975 draft by the Atlanta Flames. He debuted that year, playing four games, then scored 33 goals as a rookie in 1976-77 to win the Calder. He’d top that with 38 goals in the team’s first year in Calgary in 1980-81, a season that saw him become the first player to ever have that many goals and at least 230 PIM. (He’s since been joined in that club by eight other players.)

Overall, Plett was a skilled tough guy, or maybe a tough skill guy depending on how you wanted to look at it. He crossed the line once or twice, including a nasty stick-swinging incident with Wings’ goalie Greg Stefan that earned him a big suspension, but he was generally considered a respected enforcer in an era packed with them. He finished with 834 games, 222 goals and 2,572 PIM, one of only six players to record 200+ goals and 2,500+ PIM.

(And yes, his name was “Willi”, not Willie or Willy. It’s an Eastern European thing. What, you want to tell this guy that he spells his name wrong?)

The NHL Actually Got Something Right

Given what happen in Las Vegas two weeks ago, it felt like there was really no right way for the Golden Knights to handle their home opener on Tuesday. A big splashy ceremony would have felt inappropriate, obviously. But at the same time, it’s the first home game in franchise history; you can’t treat it like any other game, because there haven’t been any others. The team was left to walk what seemed like a near-impossible line.

Does that fix anything? Not even close, as others have argued. But we knew they weren’t going to be able to do that. So they did what they could.

When these things are done well, they always seem easy in hindsight. But this couldn’t have been. As Elliotte Friedman pointed out, the Knights no doubt spent weeks preparing a big show designed to make an impression on their new home. It’s almost a tradition that new teams have to do something embarrassingly over-the-top to mark their first game, as Grab Bag readers already know all about. Instead, the Knights had to scrap all that (including a mascot unveiling) for something more fitting.

And it worked. Full credit to the team and league for making it happen. And if they want to loosen up a bit and have some fun at tonight’s second game, that’s cool too. Things won’t ever go back to normal in Las Vegas, but they’ll inch their way in that direction, and the NHL can be a small part of that.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Today is Friday the 13th, which conjures images of a madman in a goalie mask hacking and slashing innocent people to pieces. Or, as NHL fans of the 1980s called it, Billy Smith.

Yes, it’s our old pal Smith, the craziest goaltender to ever strap on the pads. When he wasn’t winning four straight Stanley Cups, he was blazing a trail that would be followed by guys like Ron Hextall, Patrick Roy, Ray Emery, and others. He was nuts.

How nuts? Well, today’s video features a selection of suspension-worthy stick fouls involving Smith and just one of the NHL’s other 20 teams from a single playoff series. It’s still five minutes long. You do the math.

Our clip begins with Game One of the 1983 final between Smith’s Islanders and the Edmonton Oilers. We’re midway through the first period, with the Islanders leading 1-0, and the Oilers have the puck deep in the New York zone. Glenn Anderson circles the net on a wraparound, then mysteriously falls over for no reason. Huh. Might want to see a replay on that one.

On a second look, we get a clear view of Smith executing a one-handed slash to Anderson’s knee. Let’s just point out two things. First, that play is dangerous and downright dirty, and should absolutely be a penalty if not an outright suspension. Second…I mean, that’s a pretty cool move, right? Think of the combination of timing, hand-eye coordination and arm strength you need to pull that off and score a direct hit. I bet he couldn’t do that again if he tried!

We skip ahead to late in game two, as Wayne Gretzky sets up behind the net. We used to call that Gretzky’s “office,” because it was where he did his best work. Unfortunately, he then skates out to the side of the net, which is Billy Smith’s office, in the sense that it’s where he performs amputations.

Yes, Smith manages to pull off the exact same move again, hacking Gretzky on the knee. That leads to a stare down, followed by a scrum. I can’t tell who every player on the ice is, but the Oilers have Gretzky, Anderson and Jari Kurri, while the Islanders have a Sutter. So, advantage New York.

The announcer, longtime Islanders homer Jiggs McDonald, is great here. “Smith with a swing at the puck, and Gretzky has gone down like he was shot.” Those 1980s pucks sure were tricky, always disguising themselves as the MVP’s kneecap.

“You have to remember back to the time when Billy Smith… did it to Anderson.” Ah, yes, back to those distant and hazy times of literally 48 hours ago. We were all so young then.

“He didn’t hit Anderson obviously that bad.” These announcers are great. “They’re acting like a bunch of little kids now.” Seriously, so great.

Hey, can we just point that legendary linesman Swede Knox is looking sharp out there? Not a hair out of place.

Meanwhile, a policeman who weighs 120 pounds and is clearly packing a loaded gun just casually climbs over the glass behind the bench to settle some fans down. He’s never seen again. My guess is he’s still there.

Gretzky is furious, getting in the face of referee Wally Harris to plead his case. I can’t read his lips, but I’m pretty sure he’s explaining that dangerous stick-related fouls need to be called consistently, even when they’re committed by star players late in crucial playoff games.

Smith does indeed get five minutes, which needless to say outrages our neutral announcers. “Look how low the stick is!” If I’m ever charged with a violent crime, I want these two to be my defense lawyers.

We cut to the end of the game, as Edmonton’s turns the tables by spearing Smith, causing the goalie to execute a full backflip in his crease while shedding all his equipment, Beetle Bailey-style. You’d think this would make the Islanders angry, but Dave Semenko is standing nearby so everyone just pretends they didn’t notice.

For the record, the NHL responded to all this by being furious at…the Oilers. For complaining too much about the Anderson slash. As league VP Brian O’Neill put it, “[Oilers coach Glen] Sather has created a situation where Billy Smith is a monster. Billy Smith has had his problems, but he’s made an effort to tone it down.” Seriously, right? He’s slashing guys in the knee now instead of directly in the eye. If he tones it down any further he’ll be hacking ankles, and at that point why even bother?

Our last moment comes from the final game of the series, as Smith nudges Anderson and gets rewarded with a swat to the head that once again causes him to temporarily die. Smith basically admitted to taking a dive after the game, telling reporters ”I was hurt about as much as Gretzky was hurt in the second game…when I hit Gretzky he lay down and he cried to the referee, so I just took a chapter out of his book. I put myself on my back, and I squirmed and kicked and I played dead just like he did.”

I mean, can you imagine someone dropping that quote today? We’d all lose our minds for a week. Back then, everyone shrugged and went “Yeah, seems reasonable”.

By the way, the Islanders won the series in four games, and Smith got the Conn Smythe. I think he won this round, you guys.

[Turns earnestly towards camera.] If you’d like to learn more about Billy Smith losing his mind, please enjoy clips of him getting into it with Scott Stevens, fracturing Curt Fraser’s cheekbone, and fighting everyone from Tiger Williams to Eddie Johnstone to Lanny McDonald.

Smith was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1993, the only goalie to make it in that decade. HHOF officials could not be reached for comment, as they were all suffering from mysterious knee injuries.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you’d like to see included in this column? Email Sean at [email protected] .

DGB Grab Bag: Traveling Jagrs, Mythical 1917, and Nutso Billy Smith syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6