#and all the other random animals he somehow keeps encountering in the Wilderness of New Jersey

[cementcornfield]

3 and 8 for the sports ask!

3. what sport moment had you jumping up and down?

okay well disclaimer, i tend to jump up and down every week lol i watch with PASSION. especially this season each time ja'marr breaks off for a huge run after what should be just a check down. but! one that comes to mind in particular is that contested catch ja'marr made during the '23 afc championship. it felt like such a turning point in the game, and i believe happened on a drive that ended with us scoring to tie the chiefs in the second half. and it's such a great display of how good ja'marr is, how he can just JUMP up past two very good chiefs defenders and come down with it (and kick said defenders in the face on the way down). and how joe just TRUSTED him so much to be able to go get that on a 4th down conversion when it mattered most!! god i was freaking the fuck out when that happened. (and then. you know. we lost but! that wasn't on joe or ja'marr!)

8. who's your favourite player not on your favourite team + never been?

okay this one might be a bit controversial but i am gonna have to say 3rd place is sauce gardner. yes his tweets are ummm. something. at times. but i simply have stopped looking at his twitter and i recommend everyone else do the same :)

but like the thing is, he's a ridiculous dude. he's funny, he's talented, he's far far too Online. and he's got that devastating combination of traits of big heart and insecurity. (note that all of the following is, of course, projection, like for all of these guys that none of us actually know but hey) i think sauce's thing is he wants so so desperately to be liked. so he will sometimes get into the wrong crowds, absorb some unfortunate opinions and kind of regurgitate those without thinking. BUT one thing that i do admire about him is that when he's (often rightly) called out, he wants to discuss it. he wants to hear why others are upset and learn from it. and he does!

beyond all that nonsense though, some of my favorite sauce moments include:

a. when he was streaming on twitch and found out that girls liked watching his stuff. he was SHOCKED and DELIGHTED that he had female fans lmao. it was very sweet and is one of the things that leads me to believe he just maybe has kind of a smaller world view, that he is only too happy to have expanded for him as he learns and grows.

b. that 9 hour tattoo stream. oh my god. it was both extremely hot and endearing to watch him lay there for his tattoo artist, just moaning at the pain and getting that tattoo high 👀

c. the little goofy slap fight he got into with ja'marr when we played the jets two years ago lmao. he REALLY got under ja'marr's skin (rare that a CB can shut him down. but sauce IS that talented) and ja'marr trying to start some shit and sauce more than ready to reciprocate until a teammate stopped them. then in the locker room pressers bragging about it while ja'marr pretended he didn't even know his name <3

d. perhaps my MOST favorite are the interactions sauce has had with justin lmao. playing madden live with each other during the pro bowl AND playing it online a few months later. the way that he both cracked justin up and pissed him off sooooo much. the way he so clearly wants justin to like him, but then can't help himself and just annoys him until justin is ready to snap (but STILL smiling at him. still laughing at him! that has to count for something, right sauce?? keep going! see what his limits are!!)

wow god i could go on and on about sauce but honestly my friend ted is way more qualified. he's the one who taught me about this weird fantastic dude in the first place and i'm so thankful!

[roseofithaca]

Little Blue Eyes

A brief follow-up to this. Eleanor visits Michael during his reforming.

.

She had to hand it to Jason. If anyone had told her that it was possible to break a Janet out of Hell and get her away from an army of demons using just a Molotov, a single demon exploder gun, and a bag of weed, she’d have been very sceptical. But somehow he managed to bring their not-a-girl home, riding back in that hand-cart, grinning away as if he’d gone to a Jaguars game with her.

That was one problem dealt with. Now only a billion others to sort out.

As overjoyed as she’d been to see Janet back, safe and sound, she hadn’t been looking forward to reliving the most awful night of the year by explaining to her why their tall, dandy dressed demon wasn’t at her side, or hadn’t gone to save her.

It was easier to hand her the note that Michael had wrote (or possibly snapped into being after she slammed the door as she was sure even he couldn’t write that fast) before he’d pulled the trigger on himself.

I’m sorry.

I don’t want you to be worrying about how I might betray you or let you down again. If I’m locked up, you’re just going to worry that I’ve escaped. Just leave me in a tank on the other side of the map, or in Janet’s void if you bring her back, or just leave me in the Bad Place. If anything I just wanna ask that you make sure I’m all in there as I’d rather not come back shorter. Also if you can make sure no dogs are around to lap me up, I’d appreciate it.

I only ever wanted to save you all. I’m sorry I did nothing but screw up. I understand if you don’t want me back in the group after I’m back to normal. Please just get Janet back safe, even if it does mean going to the Judge. And give my best to Chidi when he wakes up.

I wasn’t lying about one thing; I really do love you all so much. I’m sorry it could never be enough.

Michael.

Reading the goo-stained letter with shaking hands, she’d struggled not to burst into tears of anger or throw up. Standing in the middle of the empty room, her friend dripping all around her, she’d wanted to scream at him for this being his best attempt to make things up to her - to forking leave her! To take the cowards way out. 

Being angry was so much easier than accepting the guilt of what she had said to him before that moment. Of questioning if she had gone too far...if she’d just taken a moment to listen to him...Usually the dude had trouble shutting the fork up but that night, all he’d done is stand there and take everything she threw at him...until there was nothing left standing. Literally.

If she’d had any idea he would do something so reckless and stupid then of course she would never have said...

But you did know. You knew exactly what he was prepared to do to help you, if it’s what you said you needed. What you wanted.

She never wanted this, she admits to herself, barely a couple months later.

Running this experiment basically single-handed was...not overly difficult. In fact, she was pretty confident in saying they were doing okay, considering the circumstances. 

But it still sucked. She was alone. Again.

Obviously there was no way she was going to have Michael’s goo abandoned in some random, isolated location. She was mad at the guy but she wasn’t a monster...so she told herself. At the same time, she couldn’t give up the role he’d thrusted upon her by suddenly taking up the role of nurse-maid, as hot as she might have looked in the uniform. He’d chosen to do this so she could work without distractions. Without a liability. 

“He sacrificed himself to save me. We’re on our own now. Let’s make it count.”

Just get the fork on with things, same as before. No point in looking back.

Tahani is the one who volunteers. She’s able to separate herself from the other humans without causing too much suspicion, claiming the need for a private getaway up in the hills, deep in the valley, a hidden fancy lodge by a stream, surrounded by peaceful deer and mountains. Definitely not Eleanor’s scene, anything involving the wilderness or even resembling camping.

By the time Eleanor sees her off on a private car Derek conjured up, Michael’s goo already reached its first form. The blind, helpless demon larva showed no signs of awareness of his surroundings, curling up as small as possible, malleable as Tahani swaddled him in her fluffiest blanket. Eleanor was almost impressed at how quickly the sexy giraffe had overcome being grossed out at the slimy, squidgy creature, able to look almost maternal as she carried him into the car. And she made sure to say as much.

Tahani’s heavy hearted response would stick with Eleanor for the next few weeks; “I didn’t reassure him when he asked us if we could ever be friends with a gross monster. Best I can do is show him how much we truly care.”

Ouch. Way to kick her in the girl-nads.

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ve helped out in multiple animal sanctuaries and used to fly out to work with deprived children with my dear friend Angelina...But this is definitely new territory for me.” She’d said as she looked over the larva demon, making the tiniest cooing noise in his sleep (or what they assumed was sleep). “I’ll try my best.”

That was all any of them could do. She’d contemplated attempting to speak to the larva Michael in her arms. What could she possibly say? Could he even understand her?

She was still angry. And yet it was difficult to connect the anger towards the one who abandoned her to the pathetic looking being in the blanket. Best to save all those harsh words on the tip of her tongue for when he was back to being tall and slappable. 

Is he really the one you want to slap?

The question comes back to haunt her more frequently each night that follows, whenever she thinks back on that night, or wonders how the two of them are doing. She and Tahani send letters often via the birds who are happy to act as messengers. They just have to be careful none of the humans intercept them. She lets her gorgeous friend know how the experiment is going and Tahani offers her tips on how to improve John, in particular. Every time she goes to write ‘how is Michael?’ she erases it, chest tightening. Tahani tells her anything important.

The slug monster form that follows the larva is a lot more challenging, she reports. He’s now the size of a Tibetan huskie and just as hungry.

I just let him roam the fields and eat what he can find. Sometimes I have to pull him in on a leash if he doesn’t tire himself out, otherwise I worry he’ll slither off in the night. I try to talk to him but he just grunts or roars at me until I tell him off. I was a little worried he might try to eat me but I found playing music - 80′s classics, mostly - calms him down and makes him rather docile. I don’t think he knows quite who I am or remembers anything. Perhaps it’s like when Janet is rebooted? He may need time to restore his memories, as she did.

Oh, darn, I must finish - he’s in the rose bush again!

Sometimes the image of her prim socialite friend trying to restrain a two-hundred-pound slug monster is so hilarious she can’t help but laugh. Other times she feels more guilt tugging at her soul to go lend a hand.

Is Michael really little more than an animal, in his head, right now? She’s hardly proved herself the best at pet care, though it sounded like Michael overeating was the least of their worries. It pained her to imagine what his head must be going through right now. Is he scared? Confused? Lost? Does he have any emotions other than the instinct to feed?

Does he still blame himself? Does he miss her as much as she...?

The more she sits in that chair in the office, the smaller she feels. It doesn’t belong to her; she’s merely filling it in while he’s gone. She has lunch in silence, remembering the jokes they used to share, the games of trying to aim food in the others mouth across the desk. She remembers him snapping a margarita for her when he knew she needed it most. She remembers his hand on her shoulder. She remembers him finding her at her lowest point, when everyone else had doubted her, turned their backs.

She remembers him, always there. And now she’s lost him.

Was wanting him gone over a stupid lie really worth all of this?

When Jason returns with Janet, on the same day she’s hesitating whether to jump on the nearest unicorn and head towards the mountains, she takes it as a sign. She has no excuse to stay away now - not with Janet back to watch over things, though she’ll probably be paying Michael a visit soon too.

She rides up on the train Janet conjures for her, saving her from trying to figure out how to ride a unicorn without breaking her neck. Something tells her she might have more luck at taming a slug monster than her British friend, not that she has any experience, just a few encounters with the grosser men in Arizona. Besides, it was Michael, at the end of the day. Their Michael.

The same Michael willing to sacrifice himself to help a bunch of cockroaches.

It’s such an idyllic landscape she arrives at. A total holiday card photo, without the snow. Nothing but grass and trees for miles before a backdrop of purple mountains. She looks around, seeing the evidence of devoured flower gardens and broken fences. At least the solid, oak cabin by the stream stood in tact, smoke billowing from the chimney. 

Eleanor is so focused on keeping her eyes peeled for a rampaging slug monster that she almost fails to spot the little person sat on the front step of the veranda.

She frowns. That has to be the whitest child she’s ever laid eyes on. Granted most kids growing up in Phoenix were smothered in fake tan before they were three by their moms, but this is something else. The kid has long white hair, half-plaited, down to the shoulders of the cream dress she’s wearing. Her skin is so pale it’s nearly translucent. Fork, is she looking at an actual ghost?

Wait...She’s a ghost. That really shouldn’t freak her out.

There’s just something so eerie about the little girl, from her sickly appearance to how weirdly quiet she is for...However old she is. Six? Seven? Thirteen? Eleanor really knows nothing about kids, just that they’re usually much louder than this one, sat alone, playing with a set of shining...

Oh.

“Michael?”

The kid looks away from the chain of a paperclips they were linking, gazing up at Eleanor on the gravel path. As soon as she sees their eyes, she has her answer. Even without a pair of glasses, she’d recognise those sparkling blue eyes anywhere. It’s only then that she remembers the third form.

Spooky little girl.

Though far less spooky than she imagined. More...sad.

Despite her surprise, she tries to smile, not knowing how badly she needed to see those eyes look at her again after this past month.

“Hey, buddy. How’re you feeling?” She starts to approach.

The kid drops the paperclips and jumps up to their feet, beginning to tremble terribly, eyes wide as saucers. 

Eleanor stops. Is he afraid? Of her?

“Michael? D’you remember me? It’s Eleanor, dude..”

“‘Hani!” The child cries turning and running inside the cabin. Fork, she knew was bad with kids, but shirt! Eleanor rushes in to follow, unable to hold back.

She enters the cosily furnished cabin to see the pale girl run up to the leg of the six foot beauty standing at the stove and cling to her skirt for dear life.

Tahani looks over from the pot of spaghetti, face fearful at first before lighting up when she spots her friend stood in the foyer.

“Eleanor! What a lovely surprise.” She beams, turning the stove off; “I’m so glad you decided to visit.”

“Wow...You’re kinda rocking the whole rustic single mom look here, babe.” Eleanor says, looking around the place, everything making her feel so warm and comforted from the open fireplace to the heavy air of recently baked bread. 

Tahani looks down to her charge hanging onto her dress, reaching down to pick the little fingers off carefully.

“Well, it was rather nice to have a project to myself, and Derek was surprisingly helpful. Everything else I acquired myself, having learned to survive in the wild from a well known ‘Bear’ friend of mine.” She holds the kid’s hands and bends down to their eye level; “Michael, sweetheart, look who’s come to visit. Remember Eleanor?”

The demon child whimpers, throwing their arms around Tahani’s neck and hiding in her luscious dark hair.

Eleanor bites her lip; “He’s a lot more shy than the slug monster, I take it.”

“Oh, I don’t understand. They were fine with Jason this morning, they were playing video games for hours - he and Janet teleported over briefly to check in on us. So glad they got back safe.”

So Jason gets a teleport but she takes the train? The first time she’s not an immortal being’s favorite to spoil.

Eleanor shuffles her feet, trying not to feel wounded at how terrified her friend currently is of her, when apparently there was no issue with Jason. But then, Jason makes it difficult for anyone to dislike him. Eleanor makes it an open invitation. 

The kid whispers something to Tahani that causes the woman to pick them up.

“Oh, darling, don’t be silly.” She responds, rubbing their back; “That was just a nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” Eleanor asks. Is she the stuff of nightmares?

Tahani eventually convinces the pale kid to go back outside to continue playing while she catches up with Eleanor.

Questions Tahani has about the experiment and the subjects get quickly brushed aside. Eleanor is unable to focus on anything but the image of Michael’s eyes looking at her with so much fear. When Tahani hands her a fresh cup of cofffee, she wants to stick her hand in it, just to scold herself for the sake of it.

“He’s having nightmares? I mean...she’s having...” Eleanor frowns.

“I find it easier to use ‘they/them’, which Michael seems to prefer as well, currently.” Tahani explains; “Most of the time, they’re a calm, affectionate child. Such a welcome change from the beast I was putting up with a fortnight ago, as much as they grew on me. It’s just at night, while their brain is still reforming and all these memories are flooding back...It can be rather distressing. Trust me, it’s heart-breaking just to see them crying and screaming...”

She can’t imagine that recalling centuries of brutally torturing innocents along with the knowledge of why that was wrong is easy for anyone, least of all in the form of a small girl, creepy or not.

“Honestly, the creepiest I’ve encountered so far is them levitating at the end of my bed - and that’s usually when they’re just looking for a cuddle.”

Eleanor smiles a little, Michael never was the best at being a truly ‘frightening’ demon.

“And I’m in these nightmares?”

Tahani sighs; “I suppose the memories of their last night are mixed up with everything else. They just...were worried you were here to say something mean or...you wanted them gone.”

Fork-sake. 

“I never wanted this, Tahani. I never wanted him to...Shirt, I didn’t even think he could, but...” She struggles to hold back tears; “I shouldn’t have come. I’ve just made him...Them more upset. Fork knows what I’d be in for if I stayed for the Teenage Boy phase. He’d probably set my hair on fire as payback.”

Bratty Michael in his fully grown form had been enough to handle. A hormonal one with amnesia was a whole other level.

“Eleanor. Just go talk to them.” Tahani presses; “This whole distancing thing you two are doing to deal with your falling out is dangerous. You’re not going to fix anything by staying away from them. As I kept telling my good friend Courtney when she had a row with my other friends, Lisa and Jennifer - you just need to communicate!”

“Babe, they’re afraid to even be alone with me.” She’s the monster under the bed now. All because she took one sin he committed to heart and forgot about all the good he’d done for her that outweighed it.

“Then stay, there’s plenty of room. Even if it means we swap and you stay here and I return to help with the experiment. Either way, this needs to be sorted out. I don’t believe demons are supposed to be this upset during their growth...You could help with that.”

Can she? She’s not the nurturing type, like her hot friend. She melted her own doll in the microwave as a kid. And she unwittingly talked her own demon bestie into exploding himself.

Tahani’s hand squeezing her wrist gives her some strength. 

“...Okay. I’ll try.” she meets her eyes; “Is Michael the only one allowed to snuggle in bed with you when they’re scared?”

Ten minutes later, she goes to find the creepy girl outside, this time sat among the flowers, being far more gentle with them than her previous slug form was. 

Eleanor approaches slowly.

“Michael? Buddy?”

The kid gasps, standing up again and flinching back. Eleanor raises her palm.

“Please don’t run away. I promise I won’t hurt you...and I won’t be mad.” She says, soft as she can manage, getting down to the ground; “And I’m not gonna make you go away anywhere. I just wanna chat...That ok?”

Michael doesn’t look too convinced, glancing over at the cabin. Looking for the one constant they’ve had, who’s been here for them, caring for them. Where Eleanor should have been, at least sometimes.

Okay. Time for the trump card.

“I got you something. Tahani said you have trouble sleeping. I thought maybe this guy could help?” She produces the minion toy from behind her back.

Michael’s eyes sparkle and he instantly reaches out to take it.

“So ugly!” They cheer, hugging it to their front.

Eleanor chuckles. Still so easily impressed.

“Can’t argue there...Also, I picked up those paperclips of yours. Did you know you can do this with them?” She holds up the chain; “Gimmie your wrist a minute.”

Michael frowns, hiding behind the toy a little.

“I won’t bite, dude. Kids are way too gross to eat. You’re too stringy and bony.” She wrinkles her nose.

They blink at her before slowly holding out their wrist. Eleanor takes the paperclips and links them around Michael’s arm, forming a bracelet.

The child gasps, clearly thinking they’ve seen it for the first time; “Holy motherforking shirtballs.”

“Damn, you kiss Tahani with that mouth?” That must have been another residue memory tucked away.

Michael sneers; “Kissing is gross.”

“It’s pretty weird if you think about it, yeah.” She concedes, glad they’re at least talking, as much conversation as she can have with a billion year old immortal that’s lost their mind as they regrow in the body of a haunting little girl; “...What about hugs? You like them, right?”

The kid nods, eagerly.

“...Maybe I could have one, someday? If we can be friends? I’d like that...” More than they could know right now. More than anything else, even having Chidi remember her. This...This is just as painful, because she can’t be sure if this is fixable. 

Eleanor crosses her legs as she sits, facing her friend.

“I’m so sorry, Michael. I know...you don’t understand that right now but...I’m sorry for why you’re scared of me...I wouldn’t ever wanna hurt you. Please believe me.”

Trust me? God, she’s such a hypocrite. 

The kid eyes her, up and down, before turning to the flowers. They bend down, picking a few up into a small bouquet of daisies. Michael turns and hands it out to her.

“Oh...Uhh....Thanks...” Eleanor reaches for them.

Michael’s blue eyes flash red. The flowers burst into flames.

“Forking shirt!” Eleanor jumps.

And still the kid holds them out; “Pretty, right?”

A heartfelt laugh tumbles out of her; “...I can tell Jason’s been here.” Or maybe that was part of her friend’s demon nature. Either way, it was adorable. “Thank you, Michael.” she says, taking the flaming daisies. “You know...if you want, I could show you how to make chains out of these? We could make a crown for Tahani?”

“And ones for me and you?” Michael asks, hopeful.

Eleanor’s lip quivers, a sudden lump in her throat. She reaches out to run her palm over her friend’s white hair, soft as it’s always been; “Yeah...Me and you too, bud.”

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: Taisetsu

Relationship: Zelgadis Greywords/Miwan

Characters: Miwan, Zelgadis Greywords

Tags: Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Rescue

Summary: Miwan has been searching for Zelgadis ever since Lina-tachi left Femille. Finding him isn't what he expected.

Note: I intend to continue this at some point. Set after Evo-R. For the Springkink prompt: Slayers, Miwan/Zelgadis: stalking, romance, hero worship - After the incident in Femille, it had been easy for Miwan to slip out. Finding Zelgadis, on the other hand, wasn't easy at all.

AO3 link

--------

Miwan had lost hope in ever finding him; he'd traveled far and wide since he had left Femille in the turmoil that had followed the Reveal. He had heard stories that he had used to try to follow him, but not knowing his name certainly put Miwan at a significant disadvantage.

He sincerely doubted the stone-skinned man's real name was "Lulu."

From the slip when he had introduced himself, it started with an X or a Z, or maybe even an S. But that wasn't a huge help.

And, of course, Miwan hadn't had the opportunity to talk to him after the Reveal. That really wasn't surprising; his mother had been so infuriated at the Reveal—which had spread throughout Femille like wildfire despite her best efforts—that she had called for the imprisonment and execution of him and his comrades. Something that Miwan had stalled long enough for them to disappear.

And disappear they had. By the time he had followed, they were out of reach. After nearly a year of fruitless searching that had often put him in awful situations, Miwan was seriously considering giving up and returning to Femille—if the city was still standing.

He had actually started on the journey back when he was accosted by bandits. Not that he had anything of value after so long on the road and so many times being robbed. What was worrisome about these bandits was their curiosity regarding his gender; despite everything, being raised as a woman had left its mark, and Miwan was used to this curiosity in the outside world.

What he wasn't accustomed to was the lewd quality of it—at least not enough for it to be unsurprising. Miwan had encountered it before, but the interest had disappeared with the revelation that he was biologically male.

But these bandits, before he could clarify, proved that he had been lucky in those previous encounters.

"Who cares what it is. It's pretty."

The terror helped Miwan find the strength to break the hold they had on him, made him run faster. But unless he found help…

He ran right into someone when he stumbled his way into a clearing, and he could only hope that they weren't a bandit as well.

The voice that intoned, "Fireball!" was familiar. So familiar that Miwan nearly crumpled in relief. But unlike the first time, that fateful first meeting, he refused to pass out. Not until he'd at least confirmed that it wasn't a figment of his imagination.

He looked up to find a familiar stony face, metallic hair poking from an off-white hood.

A face that showed no recognition, only mild concern and… a bit of curiosity. A face that was quickly covered by his scarf.

Miwan hadn't realized he was a shaman, but he'd never seen his real clothing. Somehow, it wasn't terribly surprising to find that he was that powerful.

"Did they hurt you…?" he finally asked.

The drawn out pause combined with his expression made Miwan realize with embarrassment that, once again, this man had mistaken him for a woman. And his voice would hardly clear that up. He hadn't been able to break out of his feminine speaking patterns, even after a year.

"Thankfully, no. You stopped them. They didn't seem to care that I'm a man."

There was a little spark of recognition at that, but his savior shook his head as though to clear it. "Well, you may as well pilfer their pockets while they're unconscious. They certainly deserve it. You should be careful on these roads; solitary travelers are easy targets."

Miwan could only nod, and then kicked himself as the other man made his way toward the edge of the clearing, as though to disappear.

"Thank you," he said quickly. "This is the second time you've saved me, Lulu-san."

He stopped dead, his whole body stiff in surprise at that. When he turned, his eyes were wide. "Miwan?"

He nodded, relieved that the shaman had at least remembered his name. "I'm sorry. I don't know your real name. I never got a chance to hear it before you left."

"Zelgadis," he murmured after a moment. "Zelgadis Greywords."

The name fit him, and not only because it was masculine, not only because it was the first true name Miwan knew to call him. It was a strong name.

"You're a long way from Femille," Zelgadis said after a moment. "Don't you have escorts, as the prince?"

Miwan shook his head. "I left shortly after you did. The turmoil after the Reveal made it easy to slip away."

Zelgadis frowned at him. "That was almost a year ago."

"I know. I was about to give up and go home."

The shaman eyed him, and Miwan knew he was taking in the shabby clothing, his gaunt appearance. He hadn't had anything to eat in several days, and it was hard to sleep in the wilderness with the threat of bandits keeping him from lighting a fire and nothing to keep the wild animals away.

"It can be difficult to leave home," Zelgadis finally said, completely misinterpreting his words. "I can escort you. It's not very safe in this part of the world after all the upheaval."

Miwan shook his head. "No," he murmured, blushing slightly. "Now that I've found what I was looking for, I'm… not ready to go home."

Zelgadis didn't seem to realize what he was saying at first, and then he blinked, wide-eyed and shocked. The blush that spread across his cheeks was actually quite charming, standing out against the blue stone skin in a way that was almost adorable.

"Me?" he managed.

"Yes. You saved me from bandits, and then… Well, you saved me from being forced into the role my mother expected me to take. I might not be the most masculine person, but at least now I get to decide. You gave me that strength."

Zelgadis stared at him, shaking his head, but Miwan didn't give him a chance to protest. "Really, you're probably the most important person who has ever come into my life."

He knew that wasn't reciprocated. After all, Zelgadis was clearly an adventurer, and had likely met all sorts of interesting people. Miwan had likely only been a random person he'd met, a blip on his journeys.

"You shouldn't put me on a pedestal," Zelgadis finally murmured. "I'm no hero, no saint. I went to Femille hoping to find a cure. Everything I've done has been for that. Not that it matters anymore. I'll look like this, a monster, the rest of my life."

His words startled Miwan, in no small part because he had put Zelgadis on a pedestal. Had hero-worshipped him. It was the basis of his crush. He'd never considered who Zelgadis might really be, hadn't even realized that the stone skin wasn't natural. Hadn't considered that he might be in a similar position to Miwan himself.

Seeing him as something other than a saint was new, but instead of pushing his feelings aside, it only made them stronger, made him want to be someone who could ease the sorrow he heard in Zelgadis' voice.

"We're in the same boat, more or less," Miwan said after a while. "I'll never be female, and can never really be male, either. Technically, I'm both, or neither."

It wasn't exactly the same, but he would never fit into normal society—and he was sure Zelgadis had the same problem. Maybe the difference was that Miwan was getting tired of trying.

"So why can't we be ourselves?" Miwan whispered.

When Zelgadis sighed softly, he realized abruptly how exhausted the shaman looked. Physically, and maybe even deeper than just that. Miwan may have had a difficult time during the past year, but it looked as though Zelgadis' year had been even more stressful.

A bandit groaned from where he had been thrown from the force of the Fireball, and Miwan decided to take things into his own hands. He strode over, kicked the bandit in the head to render him unconscious again, and then took Zelgadis' original suggestion, taking what loot the thieves had on them.

Then he turned back to Zelgadis.

"You look exhausted, and I'm not much better. Let's find an inn, pig out, and get some sleep. We can figure out what to do next after that." He smiled tiredly. "My—or, rather, their—treat."

There was only a moment's hesitation before the shaman nodded.

Miwan would see if Zelgadis would let him travel with him, would be patient.

He might never become Zelgadis' important person, but, if nothing else, at least they could be friends.

[huntergoebel]

Week 3 SOMD Intimacy with God and Blazing Foxes

Ywam Los Angeles

So last week I gave you guys a really lengthy (but necessary) origin story to my walk with God.  This week is different!  This week I've been practicing a better "Outward Mindset" to right my wrong relationships, but not just for my sake or theirs, but for the sake of His kingdom being built here.  

My week started out with a new speaker at my school.  Kenny Peavy was his name, and his topic was somewhat of a mystery.  To this day, I still don't know what he was actually supposed to talk about. However, he ushered in the Holy Spirit and from there it was awesome every session.  He immediately got us in the temperament of letting the Spirit lead his lectures, our mindsets, our prayers, and eventually our character.  For me, the Holy Spirit showed me an intimacy with God that was unknown to me, but still felt extremely familiar.  The first night, Kenny challenged us that anytime the Holy Spirit speaks, He moves us to a new place, whether that’s in attitude or spirit or both.  I've really been caught up in believing I had already "peaked" in my knowledge of how exactly He does, and always will, interact with me.  Dang, I was so wrong.

In worship that night, God asked me if I could kneel in prayer to him, which I don't really remember ever doing in prayer, or worship for that matter.  I did kneel, and then had one of the most intense encounters with the Holy Spirit I've ever had.  It wasn't as if the kneeling itself was some mystical solution to an equation, rather it was a way of submission and of response to him taking my heart to a new place.  I heard God clearer than I had in quite a long while and when I asked, He answered.  I felt like a son.  I thought I had separated my idea of God from my idea of my earthly Dad, but I guess i hadn't.  My dad wasn't harsh but he was always so stoic growing up, he never really wrestled with me, and he avoided things like hugs and touchy affection.  I knew dad loved me to death, but he just was not affectionate.  

Now, everybody talks about God being "Papa" which made me super uncomfortable, and still does.  People talk about his Spirit being intimate and playful and close, which I just figured was how he was with 'those' people; not me.  As soon as I got on my knees, God met me in the affectionate way that I had wanted to dream about. I called him “Dad” for the first time and it didn't feel like I was talking to some hard-boiled Dad like my own. It felt like I was talking to to the actually gentle and intimate Dad that God is to us. The biggest feeling I felt that I'm able to describe perfectly is “rest”. For the first time in years, I felt like my soul was in a state of actual rest, amidst all my sin and angst and clouded hope.  All that inner confusion, stress, and bitterness was gone and I just got to be God's child for a little while.  That would've been enough for me, but it doesn't stop there.  I know I can feel that intimacy all the time if I let Him.  To make that happen, from now on, He’s not just my father, He’s my Dad.  Since then, 6 days prior writing this, I've done it!  I've been letting God make me uncomfortable in order to bring me comfort.  It’s really tragic and really beautiful.  I'll tell you know more about how it’s going in blogs to come.  

Next on this weeks agenda, we went camping.  Not just camping, but hiking. Not just hiking, but climbing a mountain, with all of our supplies. I'm not built for hiking, but I did it.  As a matter of fact, I hiked 21 miles all weekend, up and down Mt. Wilson like nobodies business. We learned a little bit about contemplative prayer, which God did a lot more work in me with the whole “intimacy with God” thing.  It was a great trip!  I needed the work out.  I’ve been real flabby the past couple years.  The hikes pushed me past what I thought I could actually climb.  I hurt all over, but I got to know my class really well.  If I ever have to hike or climb or scale any more mountains, I hope i get to do with it with them.  It sounds a bit cheesy, but they really did inspire me to keep going at times, and I can only hope that I was able to help them when they needed it.  

Also I read Ruth, Judges, and 1st Samuel, which are a few of my favorite books to read.  People were weird back then.  In case you forgot, one time Samson caught 300 foxes, and proceeded to tie there tails together in twos.  Oh yeah, WITH TORCHES ABLAZE BETWEEN THEM.  Don't worry, it gets better. Somehow the guy finds a way to transport and coordinate 150 PAIRS OF FOXES with LIT TORCHES through multiple philistine fields; standing grain, vineyards and olive groves to be exact.  Just imagine, you got your little Hebrew tunic attire all hiked up, you're sprinting at full sneak speed around the dry Canaanite wilderness, catching maybe your 2nd fox?  You just put it in the 2nd wooden fox cage of 300 cages you've just made, maybe bought.  Who knows?  From somewhere in your masculine spirit you are deriving enough ambition to seek out and capture an additional 298 (fairly elusive) foxes to fill the other 298 wooden fox cages you've acquired by questionable means.  During this jubilee, do you ever stop and wonder how many foxes there may possibly be in this area you've chosen? Fast forward like, Oh, I don't know, several days of fox catching, in which you've had to probably feed these foxes smaller (potentially more elusive) rodents you probably also had to catch.  Suddenly you are faced with the dilemma of delivering 300 cages of foxes on your families hand-me-down donkey-drawn cart across a desert like environment.  After 30 or so trips to that weird and annoying neighbors fields, you alone, make 300 torches capable of being tied to live animals.  After trial and error, you finally utilize a way to tie all these lit torches, to living, snarling, (depending if you've fed them, very hungry), very pissed foxes, two at a time.  Your arms are bit up, several of the foxes have excreted out of fright, and you are at your wits end (clearly), but you’ve proven you can pretty much tame a few hundred foxes.  Then the final task ahead of you; to direct the foxes with the perfect trajectory to burn your weird neighbors grain, vineyards and olive groves.  After the maybe first 6 or 7 pairs of foxes, you notice that they’ve only made it 20 yards in random directions before they’ve set themselves ablaze. You ignore the whiling fox screams and keep on keepin' on because you're a man and you can't let your people down.  You've made it this far; don't stop now.  Finally, fox pair number 13 has actually rain into a field and it's started a small flame.  There, a little satisfaction in the fire that is reflected in your pupils.  A slim grin can be barely noticed through your filthy beard.  Only 137 pairs to go...