Just A Post Of Appreciation For The Slugterra-minor-character Lovers:

WAIT WAIT WAIT

episode 1, when Will's being sucked in. He crosses his arms and holds onto burpy close. GUYS HE WAS TRYING TO KEEP HIS BANDOLEER FROM FLYING INTO THE DEEP CAVERNS AND THE ONLY ONE HE COULD SAVE FROM THE FORCE WAS BURPY.

ahhhhh, this is gonna be awesome to read!!!! Thank you, happy holidays bestie!!!!!!

Another Version of Me

This is part of a Slugterra gift exchange I hosted!! This is for @mrros-e, who gave a prompt with Twist and Maurice! Minor warnings for discussions of injuries, death of an unnamed side OC, and gang activities. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, happy 12/25 to those who don't!

Let it be known that Maurice was not good with kids.

He didn’t know what to do with them. Thankfully, in his line of work, dealing with children wasn’t a common occurrence. People of all ages typically cleared out wherever Doctor Blakk went, and for the most part, where Blakk went, Maurice went.

There were a few exceptions, when business partners would bring their well-behaved children along to meetings, as if it would earn them any sympathy or extra care from the head of Blakk Industries. There were kids- preteens and young teens, which to Maurice might as well be toddlers- that were “contracted” with the company. They were information couriers, or mecha drivers, or just eyes and ears on the streets, paid enough for a couple warm meals. Maurice rarely interacted with them, but when he did, he often felt awkward and was certainly judged by the kids who were down on their luck. And being in Blakk’s inner circle, he didn’t often have to mingle with the grunts.

Then there was Twist.

For better or worse, Maurice had been the one to find the kid. He’d been in a rundown cavern on the bad side of town with a few grunts, checking in on stores they had deals with for slugs or money or equipment. As time went on and Dr. Blakk became more respected- feared? Was there a difference, really?- in the 99 Caverns, these cavern visits became easier. Nobody wanted to bring a slug to a ghoul fight. Maurice was having to draw his blaster less and less, and he wasn’t one to complain about less work.

Checking in with the local shopkeepers had devolved into some street slingers approaching Maurice and his slingers, inquiring about any work they could pick up. Maurice was tired and ready to go back to the citadel, so he’d stayed back while his ghoulslingers “tested” the street slingers, which really just meant dueling it out. If any of the prospective workers could take down Maurice’s men, he’d consider them, but they all failed and left to patch their wounds.

Except for one blond teenager, sporting a beater blaster and a single Thugglet. Maurice hadn’t thought much of him. Thugglets were neat, sure, but they worked best with surprise attacks, not when you walked straight up to your opponents. He’d been ready to turn the kid down and let him off the hook, noting his thin frame with a twinge of sympathy, when the blond launched into battle.

It was over almost as soon as it started. With a series of flashes, the kid was everywhere and nowhere, flipping ghoulslingers over his shoulder and slamming them to the ground with ease. He moved like water, dodging the few shots the ghoulslingers were able to fire off, getting up close and disarming each one of them.

The kid had looked up, tired teal eyes meeting Maurice’s warily. Maurice regarded him carefully, and for a moment, he saw not a stranger, but a younger version of himself, tired and ready to do what he had to if it meant guaranteeing his own safety. With a Shane or without, the streets were tough, and Maurice knew firsthand they could create unbreakable resolve.

Maurice glanced over at his fallen lackeys, then back at the newcomer. He shrugged and gestured to the Blakk Industries mechas parked nearby.

“You made your point, kid. Come with us.”

The rest was history. Maurice learned the kid went by Twist. He’d established himself at Blakk Industries quickly, and his attitude and talent put him face to face with Dr. Blakk. One meeting later, and the plan for Twist to infiltrate the Shane Gang was born. The infiltration ultimately hadn’t gone to plan, but Maurice knew the kid was safe for now. Dr. Blakk had taken a liking to him, probably seeing the same familiar attitude Maurice had noticed.

Blakk spent more and more time training Twist, but Maurice’s day-to-day life didn't change much. He still manned the company’s lackeys and reported to his boss. He rarely interacted with Twist directly, but often sat next to him in meetings. Twist’s frame had filled out more since joining the company (although the tenseness in his muscles never really ceased), but if Maurice nudged his leftovers over to the kid during mealtime meetings, then that was nobody’s business.

It was hard to forget what the gnawing hunger of his youth felt like.

Whatever. It was to keep Twist battle-ready. There was no point slinging on an empty stomach, and he was getting sent on more and more missions by Blakk as the weeks went on. And if he underperformed, Blakk would be in a bad mood, and Maurice would have to deal with it, so it was all purely for his personal preservation.

So when Maurice saw the kid dragged into the citadel, blood spattered down his torso and hanging limply between two masked lackeys, he was a little concerned. He’d started to feel invested in the young slinger’s progress, and Twist had been settling into his role at Blakk Industries well.

Maurice stayed back while Twist was rushed off, past Blakk’s office, where he was supposed to be debriefed by Twist and Dr. Blakk about the mission against the Unbeatable Master and toward the infirmary. The remaining lackeys that weren’t carrying Twist had some scuffs on their uniforms, but otherwise looked unharmed, and even pleased with themselves. The mission must have gone well, or as well as it could have gotten with Twist looking like he’d been hit by a mecha.

Worry knitted the redheaded man’s brow, but he stayed put until Dr. Blakk approached him, a satisfied smirk on his face despite his usually spotless uniform being torn and singed. He didn’t seem particularly concerned that his apprentice was being half carried to the infirmary, and Maurice knew Dr. Blakk didn’t really care for most of his employees, so why did this feel different?

“It looks like you were successful, boss?” Maurice said stoically, his hands tucked behind his back while he followed Dr. Blakk into his spotless office, shutting the door behind him.

“Indeed. The Unbeatable Master didn’t live up to her name,” Blakk said, laughing to himself and shaking his head as he brushed some soot off his sleeve. “A minor hiccup at the end, but we won the day.”

Maurice raised an eyebrow, curious as to what sort of hiccup could cause his boss to look like he’d touched a live wire, but he recognized that Dr. Blakk’s good mood was a rarity that shouldn’t be tampered with. Besides, Blakk wasn’t the biggest concern he had at the moment.

“And what happened to Twist?” Maurice asked, careful to keep his voice neutral. Dr. Blakk waved a hand dismissively.

“He’ll be fine. He took an attack from the Unbeatable Master head-on,” he said, as if he was talking about something as simple as slugball scores, and not his apprentice fighting the most talented slinger in Slugterra.

“I didn’t know she had it in her, to go so hard against a kid,” Maurice grumbled. He’d heard tales of the Master’s capabilities, of course, but with how strict she was in selecting trainees, and having trained every Shane in recorded history, Maurice had always assumed she had the sort of moral code that would lead to her holding back against young opponents.

Dr. Blakk scoffed.

“I doubt she would. No, he was disguised as me. He fought her off long enough for me to line up the final shot,” he said, a smirk on his face as he recounted the battle. “Once Twist took the hit, the illusion dropped. She looked almost remorseful for a moment. But she didn’t live for longer than another minute afterwards. Twist seemed surprised. He still has a lot to learn.”

Hm.

Maurice didn’t particularly care for the Master’s death. She was an obstacle and his boss removed her from the equation, it was as simple as that. Try as Eli Shane might to change things, this world was tough and you needed to be powerful to survive. Dr. Blakk had challenged her power, and she failed.

But Twist wasn’t an obstacle, or an opponent. He was Dr. Blakk’s apprentice, his protege. Maurice knew Dr. Blakk had been through hell as a kid, just like him. That was how they met, after all. He’d assumed- hoped?- that would grant Twist a little bit of grace, being a fellow person who suffered because of how this world worked.

Apparently not.

But why did that matter? Why was Maurice’s stomach tightening at the knowledge that Twist had taken a hit meant for Dr. Blakk, and had been notably injured, and Blakk hadn’t even escorted the kid to the infirmary? He didn’t even seem to care.

Maurice didn’t usually care. Caring was dangerous in this line of work. And yet…

“Well, congratulations on the victory, boss,” Maurice said, clearing his throat and turning toward the door. “I’ll do a gear check on the slingers who returned. See what needs to be repaired.”

Dr. Blakk only hummed in approval, either not noticing the internal conflict in Maurice or choosing not to acknowledge it. The redheaded man nodded and walked out of the office, shutting the door silently behind him.

He took a deep breath, fully intending to go to the storage bay like he said, but his eyes caught a glimpse of something on the floor. He frowned and peered down at what looked like a simple scuff, but what he instead realized was a small smear of blood. He frowned and looked down the gray hallway, and there were a few more drops, creating a faint trail in the direction of the infirmary.

The image of Twist held up between two uniformed workers resurfaced in Maurice’s mind, and he sighed, groaning at his apparent inability to not care. Why couldn’t he be like the doctor? Why couldn’t this kid just be another face in a sea of revolving slingers who were down on their luck and needed a home or income? Why couldn’t Twist just be another cog in the twisted machine that was Blakk Industries?

“Don’t get involved,” he muttered to himself, adjusting his vest and turning the other way, towards the storage bay. “Kid’s not your problem.”

But he only made it about four steps before his legs couldn’t seem to move.

That wasn’t true, was it? In a way, Twist was his problem. Maurice had been the one to invite him to Blakk Industries. He’d seen the potential in this street-hardened kid, and maybe Twist would have gotten into trouble against the Shane anyway with his long standing grudge. But Maurice had brought him here.

It had been going well. Twist was proving himself at every turn. Maurice knew all too well the reflex to strive for power, for perfection, for some semblance of safety.

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair before turning on his heel and walking the other way down the hall, his fists clenched as he followed the occasional drop of blood to the infirmary.

Maurice rarely ended up in the infirmary, both due to a lack of injuries in the field and the stubbornness to patch himself up alone when he did sustain injuries. He stopped in front of the plain gray door, adorned with the company’s V logo, and straightened his shoulders. This was purely professional. It wouldn’t be good if Blakk’s apprentice was down for the count, so it was practical to check on him. Right.

He swiped his key card through the scanner and the door slid open, closing behind him once he stepped inside.

The infirmary was one of the brightest rooms in the building. It didn’t necessarily match Dr. Blakk’s aesthetic, but the white and silver of the floor and walls helped potential contaminants stand out, making the place easier to clean.

There were only two people in the room. One was one of the handful of doctors employed here, Dr. Stevens. Some of the doctors were more coerced than employed, willing to stay only because their passion for healing people was stronger than the moral question of if Blakk’s ghoulslingers deserved healing.

Dr. Stevens was not one of those people. She didn’t care about Blakk’s mission or the morality of helping ghoulslingers. Maurice had come to learn she saw people as puzzles, and it wasn’t as much about helping them than it was feeling the success of figuring them out.

She stood next to one of the dozen infirmary cots, wearing a white jacket, with her dirty blond hair tied up in a tight bun. She was tucking a roll of bandages on a shelf next to the cot. She pulled a pen from her bun to scribble something down on a clipboard. Watching her warily was Twist.

“Right, well, you won’t die,” she said cheerfully. She stood between Maurice and Twist, blocking his vision of the kid. “My medical advice is to give it a couple days before getting back in action. I’m even more limited on Boon Doc usage now that Blakk found out a ghouled one can be a one-shot kill. How neat! Makes more work for me, though.”

She tucked her clipboard beneath her arm and stuck her pen back in her bun.

“At least stay the night here instead of going to your bunk, and take those painkillers once every six hours. There’s disinfectant wipes if you want to clean yourself off, but don’t shower until tomorrow night. I don’t feel like dealing with you passing out and hitting your head. Otherwise, I’m not your mother. I don’t care what you do.”

With that phenomenal example of bedside manners, Dr. Stevens turned on her heels and headed for the exit. Her eyes widened when she saw Maurice standing close to the door and gave a surprised hum, but she didn’t stop or say anything on her way out. Maurice could appreciate that, at least. He didn’t particularly enjoy talking to the eccentric doctor. She had the unnerving habit of blurting out your medical problems halfway through a conversation.

Now that Dr. Stevens was gone, Maurice had a better look at Twist. He was laid down on the cot, lifted slightly by a couple white pillows. His tan skin was still a little pale, and his blond hair hung in his eyes. His shirt, vest, and blaster sat on his bedside table, stained with dirt and blood. His stomach was wrapped, with a few smaller, separate bandages higher on his ribs, and one concerningly close to his heart. His lips were downturned, and he stared forward blankly, not acknowledging Maurice’s presence.

Before he could hesitate again and bail, Maurice forced himself to approach Twist, letting his footsteps fall heavily to alert the kid to his presence. Sure enough, Twist tensed, quickly turning his head and looking up at Maurice, his expression guarded.

“Did Dr. Blakk send for me?” he asked, gritting his teeth and starting to sit up. Maurice shook his head.

“Relax, kid. No, he didn’t send for you.”

Twist didn’t relax, but he did fully lay back down, reaching down and yanking a pale gray hospital blanket over himself. Maurice frowned at the familiar motion.

He laid on a battered futon, his chest heaving. He’d taken a Rammstone earlier and cracked two ribs. He’d won the duel and sent the trespassing slingers running with their tails between their legs, but damn if his whole torso didn’t hurt. He didn’t have any painkillers, so he’d resorted to tying an ice pack to his chest with his bandoleer.

The door to his ratty apartment slammed open, revealing Viggo Dare, flanked by a young Thaddius Blakk. Thaddius raised an eyebrow at the sight of Maurice laying there injured, but didn’t say anything. Viggo scoffed, and Maurice quickly yanked a thin blanket over himself, as if hiding injuries could protect him from Viggo’s scorn.

Maurice gritted his teeth and grabbed a chair from next to another cot, dragging it to the foot of Twist’s cot and sitting slowly.

“How you holding up? You looked rough coming in here.”

Twist still looked rough, in all honesty. He still had dried blood on his skin, and his eyes looked colder than usual. Maurice knew he was probably frustrated getting injured, but considering Dr. Blakk being in a good mood because of the mission’s success, he thought Twist would have been taking this a little better.

“Fine,” Twist said curtly. “Just some weird… energy blast, I guess. Worked like a burn on my skin, and I got blasted through a stone pillar, so the landing was rough.”

Maurice’s eyes widened. The Unbeatable Master had really been trying to take Dr. Blakk down, by the sound of it.

And instead of taking the hit himself, Blakk had let this kid stand in his place. He had to have known Twist wouldn’t be able to hold his own against the Master. It was just a fact. She hadn’t earned her reputation by being gentle.

“Still, it’s impressive you managed to stand your ground long enough for her to prepare a hit like that,” Maurice said, leaning back and hoping to come across as casual. “Don’t take it too hard. Sounds like you did exactly what the boss needed you to do.”

Twist hummed halfheartedly in agreement, shifting his weight and pulling his gaze away from Maurice.

“Sure.”

The two sat there in silence, Maurice frantically trying to think of what he could possibly say to make Twist feel better. He still didn’t understand why Twist seemed so closed off, why he seemed to be taking this all poorly. Injuries were unfortunate, sure, but this wasn’t the first time Twist had gotten hurt, although it might have been the most severe (since joining Blakk Industries, at least). Nobody was mad at him - Dr. Blakk was actually pleased. So why-?

Maurice remembered Dr. Stevens’ words.

“I’m even more limited on Boon Doc usage now that Blakk found out a ghouled one can be a one-shot kill.”

Right. The Unbeatable Master hadn’t just been defeated. That wasn’t how duels worked with Blakk, not when he had any say about it. His mission had been successful because he killed her. Again, not something Maurice particularly cared about, no matter how “wrong” it was. He wouldn’t grieve for a stranger. But Twist had been there, and Maurice knew what it was like to watch people die before becoming apathetic to it.

Viggo Dare stepped away with a scoff as the woman fell to the ground with a thud. She’d gone after him in a fury after he’d sent some thugs to beat up her brother, a shopkeeper who refused to pay Viggo for “protection.” Now a Dirt Urchin spike ran through her chest. She was dead before she hit the ground.

Maurice had joined up with Viggo only two days ago. Well, “joined” wasn’t quite it. More like threatened and surrendered.

He’d been in plenty of fights before. He’d been living on the streets for years. But he’d never been right there, only feet away, with a front row seat to a person’s death.

Viggo hummed and reached down, grabbing the woman’s blaster. It was still loaded with an Armashelt, who growled angrily but made no moves to leave. After a moment, Viggo turned toward Maurice, who instinctively flinched. The mobster laughed at that, rolling his eyes before handing Maurice the blaster.

“This’ll do you better than the piece of junk you’ve got now,” he said casually, like he’d just picked something up from Caverna Mall instead of off a corpse. Maurice took it with shaking hands.

“You, uh…”

Maurice rubbed the back of his neck, wishing there was some manual for talking to kids. What was he supposed to ask? If Twist was okay watching someone die right in front of him, as part of a plan he’d participated in? That’d he’d been key in? Clearly he wasn’t.

And judging from Dr. Blakk’s comment earlier about Twist being surprised, it sounded like he hadn’t known Blakk planned to kill the Master, not just win the duel. That had to have come as a shock.

“You good, kid?”

Nice one, Maurice. Nailed it.

Twist looked up at him, his face a carefully constructed mask of no emotion. Met with no response, Maurice felt compelled to continue.

“Just wanted to check - sounds like things got a little intense. You took a heavy hit, and sounds like you were caught by surprise when the boss took down the Master.”

Silence.

“No shame in that. If you’re not expecting it, something like that’ll naturally come as a shock.”

More silence. Twist was glaring down at the ground, looking anywhere but Maurice’s direction.

I should just let him be, Maurice thought. Twist clearly didn’t want to talk.

But he couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if someone had stopped to talk to Maurice when he was younger. At any point- when his family life fell apart, when he was alone on the streets, when he was roped into Viggo Dare’s violence.

He liked who he was today. He was strong. Capable. And yet…

“Same thing happened to me, once.”

Twist’s eyebrows raised. After a moment, he lifted his eyes. They were still guarded, but he was clearly listening more actively now. The action made Maurice feel relieved.

“Yeah. I was a year or two younger than you. I’d seen plenty of stuff at that point, but not that. Was running with a different group - led by Viggo Dare.”

Twist tensed. Maurice understood - not everyone knew about Viggo, but it wasn’t uncommon for people on the street to know about him, as either a role model or a horror story.

“I was with him when some lady came after him. He’d attacked her brother, she wanted to get even. Fight barely even began when he fired off a Dirt Urchin, ran her right through. Dare didn’t even flinch. Even gave me her blaster,” Maurice said solemnly, nodding down to the blaster hooked to his belt. “Same one I use today. I kept my cool until I got back to my apartment, then I threw up.”

Maurice leaned back in his seat.

“So, if you need to, you know, react, I won’t tell the boss.”

Twist watched him warily before finally speaking.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And with that, tears began to well up in the kid’s eyes. Twist gritted his teeth and raised a hand to wipe at his eyes.

“Damn it,” Twist choked, his shoulders shaking slightly. “Why am I reacting like that? I just- she- I don’t know, she believed in me. At least, enough for me to make it that far into the Winnowing. Even if Eli won, she might not have picked him. It wasn’t about winning, it was about who we were.”

Maurice only nodded, processing Twist’s words. He hadn’t been there in Dojang Grotto, but from the sound of it, the Unbeatable Master hadn’t been interested in Twist only because of his slinging abilities, but also who he was as a person.

She’d seen him, and not in the same way as Dr. Blakk had seen him. Maurice knew Twist wasn’t naive. The kid understood that no matter how much of Blakk’s favor he earned, he was still a mean to an end.

“I didn’t think he’d kill her,” Twist admitted, rubbing his face. “I knew he’d use the gattler, but I thought he just wanted to show her up.”

“He shoulda told you. Let you prepare. He probably just didn’t want you to have too much on your mind,” Maurice said. “It had to have been hard enough already, tricking someone as powerful as that.”

Maurice didn’t say a quieter thought of his, that Blakk maybe hadn’t told Twist because he still questioned the kid’s loyalty. To be fair, Maurice wasn’t sure Dr. Blakk truly trusted anyone. Maurice might be the closest one, if there was anyone.

Blakk- and Maurice- knew enough about Twist to know he wouldn’t plan on betraying Blakk Industries, but a spur of the moment decision? Maybe something like that wasn’t so easy to dismiss as something Twist would never do.

“Still, I shouldn’t be reacting like this!” Twist exclaimed, sitting up with a wince. Maurice wanted to stop him, but he also wanted to let Twist do whatever he felt like he needed. “Blakk can’t see me like this. I can’t ever break down like this. It’s stupid. I’ve seen someone die before, Maurice, why does this matter?”

Right. His father.

The whole reason Twist had sought all this out in the first place- to get revenge on Eli Shane for Will Shane’s killing of Twist’s father. Maurice didn’t know all the details, just that Twist’s father was a thief and Will Shane’s attempted apprehension had taken a deadly turn.

“Slinging’s rough, kid, but you can’t roll with all the punches,” Maurice assured. “I’ll be frank. Someone died in front of you. You helped make it happen. I’d be a little concerned if you were doing perfectly fine.”

“Yeah? How’s that?” Twist fired back, pushing his hair out of his face and wiping at his nose. “You’re glad I’m crying like some kid? That’s real great. Thanks for coming here to tell me that.”

Maurice sighed and shook his head, running his hand down his face.

“No, kid, I’m not- I don’t like that you’re upset. I’m saying I’ve been right where you are. It’s rough. Acknowledge that. Process it. And then you’ll be able to move on.”

Twist sighed, taking a long, steady breath, letting his shoulder sag when he released it.

“Right. Yeah. Um- thanks. I guess,” he finally said. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes at least looked a little less hopeless, and Maurice would have to consider that a win.

He stood, and his arm inched forward for a moment, tempted to rest a hand on Twist’s shoulder. But a brief pang of guilt held him back.

I shouldn’t feel guilty for bringing him into this. He wanted this. He wanted revenge, to be on the winning side.

Maurice let his hand fall back to his side.

“Call me if you need anything. Ever,” he said gruffly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Won’t tell the boss anything you don’t want me to.”

Twist’s eyes widened, and he watched in shock when Maurice nodded to him and turned to leave the room. His hands curled around the edges of his blanket.

“I- thank you,” he choked out, the words tumbling from his mouth rushed and jumbled. “Maurice.”

Maurice turned and nodded again, gifting Twist with one of his rare, genuine smiles- not one full of pride or malice, but of content.

“No problem, kid. Rest up.”

Twist nodded, and Maurice left the infirmary, closing the door silently behind him. His smile slowly faded. He… didn’t know what to feel. So he just let himself be content with the boss’s victory, and Twist’s impending recovery.

And if, when the day finally came and the Dark Bane emerged from Doctor Blakk’s terraportal to wreak havoc on Slugterra, Maurice turned a blind eye to the sight of a young blond slinger retreating from the chaos?

Well, it was a hectic day. No one would ever know any better.

I DID IT, I POST WITHIN THE HOUR!

slugterra ao3, get ready, content has arrived

thanks, now I'm crying!

Ever think about how one of the rooms in the Shane Hideout technically belongs to Will,

So, like when Eli first scoped out the place, he probably stood in what was once his dads room for a solid five or ten minutes, taking in the dust covered room and all its stuff before getting the gear Will had left him.

And then when Trixie, Kord and Pronto like officially moved in and where claiming rooms for themselves they also saw what was once Will Shane's room, and how Eli just kinda avoided it by sleeping on the couch.

(because I hc there are like four actual bedrooms in the Hideout.)

And it takes like, a month to get Eli to not only clean out what was once his dad's old room but actually move into it himself?

And lest not think about the potential box/album of photos Will probably kept under his bed or something like that, and how those photos were of him and his son. (As well as some other personal items)

Let's not think about how Eli probably had to go out back and have a little cry before mustering up the energy to finish cleaning, out the room that was once his dad's, and is now his.

Let's not think about how Eli probably had to hide a lot of his dad's things, not just because he didn't want his friends to find them, but because they where to painful to look at.

...

Welp, i'ma head on off to bed now, night night!

YES YES YES YES YES GLORIOUS ART WHAT AN HONOR YOUR HONOR

Little snippet of a convo Will Shane and Tom Por are having in the fic(there both like 19 btw)

[for some context, they are watching a duel between two skilled trick shot duelist]

“I noticed, think something like that could be useful in a head to head shoot out?” Will asked. 

“You kidding? misdirection is never not useful Shane,” Tom snorted, “Though, ide say your years off from their level”

“Like you're a better shot!” Will snapped. 

“Compared to those two? No way. But you? It's hardly a competition,” Tom snarked with a smirk, as Will gasped dramatically. 

“And here I thought we were friends!” Will feigned causing Tom to chuckle. 

[Their silly little bros your honor!]

welcome back, everyone!

fuck fascists :)

what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?

would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldn’t it?

Not the Mets Radio making me cry...I wanted a WS so bad but fuck it the Mets have the best vibes in baseball so at the end of the day who really won.

like okay Ohtani be MVP u earned it, we had grimace and pumpkins and my girl and OMG and OMG concerts franchise moments and we had the underdog energy.

And hey, if we only change the staff a little bit? a few more pitchers? keep the energy up in 2025, and perhaps this season could become the start to an Era. Like not just a good year - an actual Era of a few years of the Mets being a playoff team. And I'd love Nimmo and Alonso and a healthy Senga to be part of it all - they have time to rest, now. They'll be at full strength. They can keep going. Wouldn't that be amazing?

I'll return to my 24/7 position as a small-fandom fanfic writer now. Till I see you all in the Mets tag next season,

Mister Rose :)

I can't keep having the same conversations about love languages, mbti, iq, bmi, "brain fully formed at 25" and shit over and over again...