It's 3:36 am I'm at work sitting at my desk eating a bell pepper like it's an apple

@swordoftheberserkgutsrage

untraceable cyberbucks

gasters stats are so funny bc even IF you, by some miracle, manage to defeat him after a long, arduous battle, not only does he absorb all of your EXP, (and most likely a lot of HP) he also robs you point blank of all your money. not only does he take your G (gaster coin), this dude sits down to open like 3 different credit cards in your name and max all of them out, before dusting with cash and card in hand. just so you're beyond broke. he might be on the verge of death but he's not about to go without putting you in unimaginable debt first. that's so petty. legendary hater behaviour.

you are spared from my psychic damage. for now

she’s magnetic…

Goes hard

does anyone want to see my deltarune madoka magica crossover

toger we can achieve anything

I love these two dummies

mahoyo polycule unite

me: We'll approach from the east, where their defenses are weakest

the commander: We should send a dozen men to the west side first, trick them into dividing their forces

the fell dragon that lives inside my head: (This is stupid. Let's just reduce the world to ash.)

me, out loud: We're not reducing the world to ash

commander: Okay.

i dont care if mondays rife,tuesday qednesday full of strife, thursday fuck my baka life, its friday im in sucks

happy thursday fuck my baka life, thank you for this post op i had this stuck in my head for days so i embroidered it

i might attach it to a magnet to go on my fridge lol

The Thus-It-Is of the World-Saving Hero’s Instruction Manual

When the world was old, and the rivers still had voices, there was a god for each and every disaster and disruption of ordinary life that could be imagined. In the great halls of heaven, the hunchbacked ogre-god of flash floods rubbed shoulders with the spindly-limbed minister of lost pets and the handsome shore-eroding prince. When misfortune occurred, the appropriate god would step in from a bridge of provisional space and give a moralizing interpretation of events. Motives were ascribed to entities generally considered to be inanimate. Faults were found in sufferers to offset their harm. Silver linings piled high in the ledgerbooks of heaven. 

After the war between the gods and the strange sharp things of the distant cold, the great communications systems of heaven — jingling golden bells on lines and chattering squirrel-headed gods — fell silent. When a disaster happened, there wasn’t a hope of notifying the appropriate god in time. Sometimes, it would be weeks, years, or even decades before a god arrived on the scene, and their remarks on the long-ago disaster were impoliticly terse. Other times, a god would show up before the disaster was actually scheduled and end up saving everyone from it. That was no good!

The many wise gods of heaven, troubled by such disorder, came together to find a solution, or at least, grant money. On the first night of the symposium, hopes were high, and the feasting-tables piled higher. By the final night, the hungover sages had nothing but their headaches, so they decided to just make some mortal do it. The Retrieving Sage went off to grab a suitable personage upon whom to shuffle off the responsibility. While he hunted, the other sages of heaven prepared a great codex with all their best blessings and superpower miracles: the World-Saving Hero’s Instruction Manual.

Once retrieved, the mortal was given a heavily abbreviated course of instruction in the manual’s secrets, for the sages were still hungover. She became a mighty hero, Emerald Sword Woman, and she fought off many monsters and unsavory beasts. 

“You did well to entrust the world to Emerald Sword Woman,” remarked the then-reigning dynastic lord of heaven, Whose Name Is Universal Fire, to the sages. “It will be a metaphor for self-sufficiency. You may have whatever grant money you wish for, and are spared from the gallows—for now!”

* * *

Emerald Sword Woman fought tempest demons, monsters, and wicked gods. Her skin began to wrinkle, and her hair to gray. She fought alongside her sons and daughters, and carried a pair of laughing grandchildren on her back as she severed the Kneeling Titan’s throat-vein, but she was still only mortal, and died drowning because she never learned how to swim. 

Retrieving Sage plucked up another hero, who became Seven Dog Man. He was the new world-saving hero, the gods told him. He wasn’t good at it. Fighting with the strength of seven dogs wasn’t enough to stop tempest demons. When he rebuilt houses and bridges after battles, they looked awful. He couldn’t even keep suffering from being an inextricable, essential element of the human experience! The sages took their leisure in their stately library-palaces, unconcerned by a world crying out at the chaos that had befallen it. 

Eventually, this disturbed the then-reigning dynastic lord of heaven, Jul-Ja the Forever Tiger, from his pursuit of mastering perfect cuisine. When the roiling turmoil of the world below made his fried egg’s yolk to break, the tiger-headed king decapitated Seven Dog Man with a world-crossing assassin’s kick—and Retrieving Sage too, for good measure.

“Metaphors for self-sufficiency are ill-suited to good governance. Instead, let mine be a reign of the infinite arbitrary,” Jul-Ja said, beating aside the sage gods and stealing their World-Saving Hero’s Instruction Manual to scatter its pages the world. Its boundless power was doled out by chance to the merciful and the cruel, the wise and the foolish, and even to a dog who’d learned how to read. Disasters occurred, sometimes, but were prevented at other times. It was so-so.

* * *

Years go by. Dynasties rise and fall. The so-so world becomes less so, and more so. Copies of the World-Saving Hero’s Instruction Manual become increasingly poorly translated, giving rise to all sorts of ill-conceived heroes. Two such personages eye each other from across a small coffee shop. One is Organs-Made-of-Honeycombs Prince (née Joe). The other, Seafoam Murder Executive Officer (née Annabeth). The coffee shop is filled with the corpses of night-grim assassins, whose presence here needs no explanation.

“Do you think,” asks Joe, frowning at the blood that’s covering his latte and his little pastry treat, “that our current state of affairs arises from the wayward deeds of humanity, which angers heaven and draws down its wrath? Or have world-saving heroes made us too meek, too dependent on the heavens when they were good, and now helpless that they have fallen out of contact?”

Annabeth separates the meat of Joe’s body from a good deal of its blood with a stapler. They made a good team against the night-grim assassins, but she is Seafoam Murder Executive Officer, after all.