* She’s been chasing you for a while now–she must be tired after so much running! …You hope.
Loyal, kind, and ferocious…
Since she has taken the role of the captain of the Royal Guard, she doesn’t have a lot of time to calm herself down and relax. This means she’s normally very high-strung and antsy, and the smallest bit of news (good or bad) tends to set her off if she can’t get a hold of herself in time.
Asgore’s continued isolation in his castle has also left her (unwillingly) in charge of the entire Underground, so not only does she have to focus on basic monster’s needs, she also has to protect everyone she can while constantly worrying about her father figure.
Role in Monofell
It is her sole duty to serve the denizens of the Underground, but with HOPE rapidly depleting with no end in sight, she had taken it upon herself to start harvesting human SOULs to free everyone.
Her magic reflects her mental state, so her spears are normally always bursting with unrestrained and chaotic magic.
She wears her SOUL on the outside of her body as a show of strength and a challenge. Who would dare fight someone brave enough to bare their weakest point?
Papyrus is the skeleton who is tall and active. Within a red tunic and a
pair of white pantaloons, he also tied the sleeves and trouser legs in linen,
which looked like a martial artist. It is quite true. He always wears in a red headband
with writing “The Hero” (义者) which is made by himself.
Papyrus is not quiet but obtrusive in the group, so this lets people
feel him in the ways of confidence and innocence. He didn’t have any close
friends ever, because he likes to talk about his dreams with others in
unfiltered ways, which let others felt unrealistic. However, in the Peach
Blossom Village, he is the welcome one by his enthusiasms. He is really helpful
and honest to strangers as well as a hero he wants to be. Papyrus likes to do
some run errands works that most of guys are annoying to do, and this is one
part of his exercise for him to be a hero. If you truly become a friend with
him, he will help you to escape from the chasing battle.
Papyrus likes to advocate justice, and a part of adamancy in his mind
will help him to recognise humans are evil. In contrast, his methods in
treating the evil enemies are adorable. He wants to be friends with humans who
fell in Arcadia. On the other hands, he doesn’t want to break the law of his
justice. In this way, he chose to design some puzzles on your ways to the Peach
Blossom Village but always failed. Facing your flirts, he would be surprised
and then angrily say that was the trick of humans.
Papyrus is strict to his brother. Right now, he
is trying to organize a series of manual exercises for him, but Sans always
likes to escape by his “Space Transportation”.
The reason of his restriction to Sans is that Papyrus always thought
Sans cannot protect himself well. Sans is always an idiot that needs to be guarded
Papyrus is sometimes careless and
absent-minded. For example, he prepared some pickles for you on the way, but he
forgot to leave a pair of chopsticks for you. Sometimes, he is really clever, which
just like what leaves you some wrong messages to Undyne in the ways of your
(It is a plate of well-done pickles,
but there are no chopsticks for you to use. You gave up for that.)
He likes to call himself as a hero, and he
always helps people in the village. However, the Peach Blossom Village is quiet
and peaceful, and there are not some naughty guys to make trouble here. In this
way, Papyrus is looking forward a magnificent world for him to fight, and he
wants to hear someone call his name in some corners of this world for help.
Facing the kindness of you, Papyrus kept
telling himself that this was the cheat of humans. You would find he was
murmuring to himself.
He has a soft heart, and it is hard for him to
kill someone even his enemies are sinful. He cares you a lot, even he never
knows you are kind or not. He prepares pickles for you as your hunger meal and
some puzzles as after-meal snack.
He really wants to leave Arcadia and travels
around the world.
He likes to call himself as “the Great Papyrus”
or “the Just Papyrus”, although he knows that he is not great at all.
He hates poems, and he hates Sans recite poems
He once gave a scarf to a scarecrow.
He is a vegetarian.
He is a part of power to maintain “the Barrier”.
If you killed him advance, you would not meet
Sans in the Waterfall.
The Dialogue of Papyrus before the battle with
HUMAN, ALLOW ME TO TELL YOU SOME MIXED
TASTES, TASTES LIKE,
THE MOTION OF YOU MADE A
JAR OF PICKLES BUT KNOCKING OVER THE SPICES THE ADMIRATION FOR ANOTHER’S
PUZZLE-SOLVING SKILLS THE JOY OF FINDING ANOTHER
PICKLES LOVER OF ME THE DESIRE TO HAVE A COOL,
SMART PERSON THINK YOU ARE COOL
THESE FEELINGS, THEY MUST BE WHAT YOU ARE
FEELING RIGHT NOW I CAN HARDLY IMAGINE WHAT
IT MUST BE LIKE TO FEEL THAT WAY AFTER ALL, I AM VERY GREAT
I DON’T EVER WONDER WHAT HAVING
LOTS OF FRIENDS IS LIKE I PITE YOU, LONELY HUMAN… WORRY NOT!!! YOU SHALL BE LONGLY
SO LONGER! I… THE JUST PAPYRUS WILL BE
…NO, THIS IS ALL VICIOUS I CAN’T BE YOUR FRIEND!!! YOU ARE A HUMAN, THE ENEMY
OF JUSTICE! I MUST CAPTURE YOU!!! TO
PROVE FOR MY MASTER
THEN, MASTER CAN TEACH ME
ABOUT WUSHU!!! POWERFUL! POPULAR! PRESTIGIOUS! THAT’S THE PAPYRUS!!! THE NEWEST MEMBER OF THE CELEBRITIES
(gif source @felicitys bc apparently source isn’t showing up)
YES, I WROTE A FIC ABOUT OLIVER AND HIS LOVE OF SOCKS. DEAL WITH IT. SUPPORT OLIVER QUEEN AND HIS LOVE OF SOCKS, EVERYBODY. (It’s Olicity as well)
Oliver loves socks.
It sounds absolutely ridiculous. Probably because it is, to most people. But he’s completely serious about it. People can scoff and laugh and joke about it as much as they want, but they’ll never know the real reason why he has such an adoration for socks.
Oliver doesn’t just love socks. He needs them.
Oliver didn’t have socks on Lian Yu. The North China climate was not particularly warm, and so when winter came, with the harsh cold winds, sleet and snow, his feet often froze. He came near to losing his toes several times over, the small digits going painfully numb and blue. He’d burnt them in the flames of small fires multiple times over, desperately hoping to get feeling back into them.
“I need to buy some socks. Everybody has their thing. I need socks. Bad.”
Except socks aren’t just his thing. They’re a security blanket for him. He has PTSD, as a result of the trauma he went through during his five years away. He admits it. And his need for socks is a PTSD tick, personal to him. Socks give Oliver reassurance that his feet aren’t going to get cold and his toes won’t freeze and fall off. So yeah, he loves socks. He’s not scared or bothered to admit it to his team either. Sure, Lance and Thea give him weird looks, Diggle narrowing his eyes and Curtis just aiming a ‘dude you weird’ glance towards him.
But Felicity ducks her head and smiles.
She knows a little bit about his love of socks. During their vacation, Oliver liked to buy socks in every city and country they went to. It was basically his version of collecting snowglobes. But with socks. She humoured him, even helping him choose some special Hawaiian style ones on their Polynesian Island tour, and some fluffy, natural ones made from alpaca wool from their venture into Peru. The fact that Felicity just accepts his love of socks, even grins at him about it, sends thrills through his body. Oliver didn’t think he could love her anymore, but when she bows her head and smiles, his heartbeat quickens and he falls even further into his devotion to her.
When they battle Chase, Evelyn, Black Siren and Talia Al Ghul on Lian Yu, it’s a bloody and exhausting fight, both physically and mentally. The entire team is tired when they finally, finally return to Star City. Lance hugs Oliver and calls him ‘son’ and Thea cries grateful tears into Oliver’s shoulder. Rene, Curtis and Dinah tell him he’s the best leader they could wish for. Diggle embraces him and Felicity… Felicity kisses him. He thinks it might just be the best day of his life, rivalled only by that day when Felicity agreed to marry him at Christmas, over a year and a half ago now.
But when they settle back into their lives in Starling City, the team buys Oliver a boxes and crates’ worth of socks, all in different colours and styles and textures, and Oliver cries. Tears of happiness. Because he now has over fifty pairs of socks, gifted to him out of love. Love and acceptance.
“Your weird sock fetish isn’t going to drive us away, Ollie,” Thea says. “We love you, however strange you can be.”
Oliver is slightly offended, but he’s too flattered and relieved for that offence to really stick too long.
When Oliver and Felicity move back in together, Felicity greets him at the door with a present. The box is carefully wrapped in emerald green tissue paper with a little white bow and Oliver simply vibrates in excitement as they sit down on the couch, thighs and elbows brushing, and she softly tells him to open it.
Oliver opens the present, and as soon as he sees the contents, tears spring to his eyes and he tackles Felicity down to the couch. He slams his lips onto hers passionately, sliding one arm around her waist to pull her flush against him. “I love you,” he whispers.
They head off into the bedroom, their bedroom, leaving the gift lying on the couch.
It’s a pair of green socks with little black arrows on them.
They were folded around Felicity’s engagement ring, with a little note written in red pen saying “It’ll always be yes,” curled inside of it.
“You told a mortal girl (Rachel Elizabeth Dare) about half-bloods?” “She can see through the Mist. She saw the monsters before I did.” “So you told her the truth.” “She recognized me from Hoover Dam, so—” “You’ve met her before?” “Um, last winter. But seriously, I barely know her.” “She’s kind of cute.” “I-I never thought about it.”
You had headed out to the grocery store because you were planning on making dinner for you and your boyfriend tonight. He was back in town for a few days and you wanted to treat him to something nice because he had been working so hard.
You were on your way over to his place now and had sent Seth a text telling him to have the door unlocked since you forgot your key to his place, but when you got there the door was still locked. You kicked your foot against the door, not having any free hands and you could hear Kevin barking from the other side.
“Ju-just a sec- whoa! - second!” You could heard Seth’s strangled call from the other side of the door.
The door flew open and there he stood, his hair pulled back in a messy, sloppy, sopping wet bun, his shirt and beard both dripping with water, and a very defeated look on his face.
“Why are you all wet?” you laughed as you looked him up and down. He was soaked. “Wait, let me guess! You were doing the dishes and fell in?”
“Ha-ha,” Seth said dryly making you laugh even more. “No, I was trying to give Kevin a bath but he wouldn’t cooperate.”
You looked down at Kevin who was wagging his tail excitedly at your feet, only his back paws looked a little damp. You looked back at Seth and raised an eyebrow.
“I swear to you he is a completely different dog when you get him near water.” Seth said defensively as he took the grocery bags from your hands and placed them on the counter.
“Well that explains why you didn’t get my text,” You said as you embraced him quickly before bending down and scooping Kevin up. “What do you say me and you got get you all washed up! Huh Kevin? Does that sound like fun?”
Seth rolled his eyes as you cooed at his small pup, “You won’t be smiling once you get him in there!” He called after you, watching you disappear into the bathroom with his dog.
In a few short minutes Kevin came running out of the bathroom with damp fur and you came out completely dry. Seth’s eyes widened as he saw you before he turned to Kevin and narrowed them, “Traitor.”
You laughed as you made your way over to Seth and wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning back a bit so you could look up at him, “Don’t be jealous babe.”
Seth smiled as he leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You hadn’t noticed the water bottle he had in his hands until you felt something cold pouring over the top of your head.
You jumped back with shock as he cackled with laughter.
“You’re going to pay for that,” You challenged, your eyes darting over to the sink where there was a spray hose for doing dishes. Seth saw your eyes and both of you moved at the same time. Ready to battle it out as Kevin chased after the two of you.
For our fourth interview, we have had the privilege of getting to know Mike from Florida, USA. Please take a moment to find out all his great stories from work from when he started writing as well as what inspires him and much more. Thank you for participating, Mike! ❤
Writers Creed: Thank you for joining us! We’d like to start off with a brief introduction. Tell us your name and any nicknames and / or cool story involving them (if any) :)
Mike: First of all I cannot begin answering questions before thanking you for this completely unexpected honor and pleasure. As for nicknames, the number one perk of being named Mike is no matter how old I am or ever get, I shall always be a Mikey, and yes I do like that. Michael is actually my middle name, and I’ll spare you the gory details, but that is confusing. I have a much stranger nickname at work, Frank, as in Frank Frawley. For the past fourteen years I’ve worked for the same family owned business, and for reasons yet unknown, one of them has and will probably always call me Frank. It’s now a running joke, and everyone including me when I’m in a good mood finds this hilarious.
WC: Haha that is a great story Mike. We’ll make sure to stick to Mike and not Frank haha. So onto the real writing questions, what got you into writing?
M: I actually started writing at one of the lowest points in my life, and never had much if any desire to write prior to 1999. Fighting a losing battle with addiction, I had chased away love, most if not all of my friends, and totally destroyed a 21-year career. I wrote about 4 poems to pass the time and hopefully keep some of whatever was left of my sanity. Several years later I was able to share one, “Hush” with a severely depressed friend. She loved it and passed it around to everyone else, who also said they loved it, and I was hooked. Thankfully, she’s now an RN, a happily married mother of two, and I’m doing much better as well.
WC: Wow that is a great answer. It is incredible how people are able to turn tragedy into something positive and in turn also inspire others through their writing
M: People are actually pretty amazing, and when I don’t have my head buried deeply up my behind, I realize, or remember that the true gift of writing is found in the hearts you touch.
WC: Well said, “the true gift of writing is found in the hearts you touch.” 😊 Love that. So what usually motivates you to write? What are the subjects you most touch upon?
M: The motivation like everything else has changed over time. After my first few poems, I started writing to share with my friends at work. Along with enjoying their positive feedback, I totally unexpectedly discovered that I actually loved to write. There are so many thoughts and feelings that I feel I can adequately express only via written words. In our words, we can be actors, saints, sinners, lovers, dreamers, and anything else we can imagine. In its own way, I’ve found writing to be a very liberating experience. Early on, the mostly spiritual books I was reading often inspired me, and of course music, always music. By far my favorite topic has always been love in its many hues, from romantic to tragic to altruistic. A few of my favorite themes are of course pirates, The Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz, God, self-love, and most definitely dreamers.
WC: Lovely answer, just spot on. You have a wonderful point here about how easily it is for us writers to take the role of any character we choose and really go with it. The power to be able to create is fascinating. How long have you been writing?
M: As I mentioned, I wrote about 4 poems in 1999, and for reason I saved them while going through some shall we say pretty interesting times. Several years later when I began sharing them with friends at work, I probably wrote one or two per week at most. You may find this moderately humorous, after a while I started sharing prose on Fridays, and having never heard of prose along with only knowing that a blog had something to do with the internet, I referred to them as Fake Blog Fridays. Since joining Tumblr in December of 2010, and counting whatever I wrote prior to that, I’m “guesstimating” that I’ve written somewhere around 4,000 poems and other types of creative writing.
WC: Haha that is amazing! You know, I think we (all writers on Tumblr who have been blessed with your work) can agree that it was the best thing you did to start writing when you did! ❤ Any strange, interesting, cool stories or experiences happen to you because of the fact that you write?
M: I can’t think of too much other than in my early days of writing at work. I had a readership of about 50 people, and I used to go around each morning whenever I had written a new poem passing them out on company paper, and time. My boss heard about it a few years later, and while shaking his head in disbelief, smiled and said, don’t do that anymore. Also, I’m not generally very comfortable meeting new people, and it certainly was an ice breaker. New employees would often come up to me and ask, “Hey aren’t that poet guy?” Minor though it was, I’m sure I enjoyed the notoriety as the only fish in a small pond.
WC: Cute :) Well now for the last question, tell us a fun fact about you :)
M: Why did they get tough at the end? LOL. For some reason you just reminded me of one of my father’s favorite stories that he loved to share even into old age. His passion was traveling, and as a Marine Corps Officer was allowed 30 days of vacation each year. In a little pale blue Tempest hauling a camper trailer we literally traveled around the country for 3 or 4 weeks once every year. I’ve been in 40 plus states as well as both Canada and Mexico. Yellowstone with its geysers and bears was one of my favorites. Anyway, back to his story. Apparently at least one of my school teachers had called the house expressing her concern over my apparent chronic lying, and when he inquired as to why, she replied, every time we have a geography class and discuss a new location, he says I’ve been there. My father smiled and answered, he has. I can only imagine her expression.
WC: No way! Haha that was epic!
M: I heard that story many times and smiled with each retelling. :)
WC: I can see why. It sure brightened my day.
M: This has been very enjoyable!
WC: Thanks! Well thank you so much for doing this and sharing your soul with us today!
6 Months Later:
I watched as the lights from the hills passed through the window of the Über. One of my good YouTuber friends Maggie Lindemann was having an all girls night party at her house and I was invited of course as one of the chief execs at Rolling Stones, currently.
“Miss Y/N, we are here.” says my driver Jesus
“Thanks Jesus.” I say and get out
I walk towards the open patio door and make my way in to the house, jam packed with girls of all persuasions and a few guys on stages dancing.
“Y/N!” squeals Mags
“Hey Mags” I laugh and kiss her cheek
“So there’s a full bar, snacks, rooms upstairs, with condoms, and these nice strippers are here for good time.” she winks and bounces away
“Y/N, damn.” says a fellow elite Liza Koshy
“David let you escape.” I laugh and so does she
“Sure he did, so let’s cut a rug.” Liza says as we make our way onto the dance floor
I think I see someone I think resembles Shawn, the stripper from Club X-stasy and the one who got my exec position secured.
My body presses against Liza and we grind sexily together and I flashback to the hot night 6 months ago in the dressing room with ‘Muffin Man’ and what happened.
His fingers inside me, thrusting and curling, and deeper and deeper in my Hot core. My body glistening as he fucked me from behind in the mirror as I watched it all unfold.
“Y/N are you okay?” asked Liza
“Yeah, I just need to go freshen up and grab a drink.” I say
I make my way through the crowd to the bathroom and walk in, splashing cool water in my face. As I open the door, I see a slender yet muscular body against the doorframe.
“Hey cheesecake.” he says with a cocked eyebrow
“Fuck.” I mumble
“What was that?” Shawn says
“Fancy seeing you here Shawn.” I say sweetly
I knew I saw his body on the stage when I was going to the dance floor, his platinum tight shorts against his chiseled body and tight on his bulge.
I swallowed and tried to exit the bathroom.
“How about we go down to my Jeep?” Shawn says
“What? No.” I say
“Oh come on cheesecake.” he says
“Stop calling me that!” I growl
“Look come on.” Shawn says
He grabs my wrist and leads me out and down the stairs. I couldn’t deny I wanted this but resisting and fight was part of the battle and chase.
“So why are we going to your Jeep?” I ask
“Just be quiet and come with me.” he says
We walk out through the crowd and outside the cool LA weather hits my warm body as we make it outside.
“Come, my Jeep is over there.” he says and leads me to a black looking Jeep with no doors.
“We are not having sex in that thing.” I chuckle
He gets in, reaching in the glove compartment and pulling out his coke stuff.
“Do a line with me, yeah?” Shawn says
“Drugs! Are you stupid?!” I say
“It’s a stupid line of coke and it will give you courage, and by the way I know you’re already wet.” Shawn chuckles
“I’m not wet.” I say with an irritation in my voice
“Then what is this?” he says and touches the small wet spot from where I crawled crossed the console
“It’s like a pussy snail trail.” he smirks and does a line
“Give me the fucking mirror.” I say and take the rolled up bill and snort the line
“WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT SHAWN?!?!” I exclaim at the burn of the cocaine in my nostril
“Feels good.” Shawn says
I crawl in the back and ditch my panties in his passenger seat
“Oh my little cheesecake.” he says and flicks his tongue
“What? You want this?” I say and run my hand up my skirt and between my thighs
He crawls back with me and we begin to make out, soon I find out I am flexible as my legs are behind my head and my wet heat is on display for him.
I watch his 9" spring free from the small shorts he’s wearing as I reach to find him, I tease his tip on my drenched slit, rotating the rubbing between my clit and slit.
“Oooohh.” I moan as I run him down and slowly press him inside me.
“Just as I remember.” Shawn groans
I hold my thighs as he thrust hard and deep, shaking the Jeep.
“Ooh f-f-uck.” I moan
I hear my juices as he thrusts harder and harder.
“Listen to that cheesecake, the sound of the wet.” Shawn smirked
I heard myself letting small flatulences happen from my core.
“It feels so fuck.. don’t stop. Right there.” I moan
His thumb rubs my clit as I watch intently of him slide in and out, each thrust becoming deeper and deeper eventually sending my g-spot into overload.
“I’m gonna cum.” he grunts
“Inside, fuck inside again.” I moan
“You sure cheesecake?” Shawn moans
“Please, please.” I moan
I grip the leather of the seat and moan like a porn star, over-exaggerated and sort of rehearsed.
“Damn my little cheesecake.” he says
“I’m close too, cum please.” I say
“Here… it… comes.” Shawn grunts and thrusts hard and deep, making my orgasm peek and my grip tighten as the warmth fills my loins.
I untwist myself and breath deeply.
“Still as good as I remember.” he says
Felicity stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror. She traced
her fingers along the scars on her belly.
Twins, she thought to herself. She and Oliver knew since
that first ultrasound that they were going to have them. Her pregnancy was
difficult, with all the extra weight she had to carry, and then the doctors
cutting into her, a cesarean birth that brought her babies into the world. There
had been incredible pain and then her water broke. She woke Oliver at eight
thirty in the morning six weeks ago. He was immediately awake and alert, something
Felicity always found amazing. That he could be instantly on point like that
after coming out of a deep sleep—well, it instilled more awe of him for her.
Felicity turned to a side profile, noticing a slight
overhang to her belly. And more scars. Over the past six years, she had accumulated
her fair share of them: the one above her left eye from the van crash during
the Slade affair, the bullet wound in her right shoulder from the Clock King,
the knife wound on her right hip from that final showdown with Chase.
But the scars on her belly were more meaningful to her than
all the others combined. Every time she looks at them, Felicity is reminded of
that wonderful morning when she and Oliver gazed on their daughters for the
first time. Everything they had gone through since that horrible day two years ago in the loft when she almost gave up
on Oliver for good—the twins were the ultimate payoff for them.
After the final battle with Chase, both her and Oliver ended
up sharing a hospital room together—her with the knife wound on her hip and Oliver
with another sword in his chest. It wasn’t as dire as Ra’s, but Oliver was down
for the count and would be for a couple weeks.
Felicity continued tracing a light touch over her belly. Those
couple nights together in the hospital built another lasting memory of her and
Oliver. Before they went after Chase and the battle that ensued, Oliver and Felicity
had finally bridged the gap the brought so much distance between them. Oliver
declared his love for her again, (she
never doubted it) out in the open and with certainty. He told her that no
matter what happened with Chase, he wanted her to know this. There was still so
much to say to one another, but both of them knew the coming battle was top
priority. So Felicity acknowledged Oliver’s words and they shared a brief hug
before going out together to save the city.
That night in the hospital after they defeated Chase,
Felicity was eager to continue on with their thoughts and feelings for one
another. Oliver repeated his love for her and Felicity finally opened the door
she slammed in his face for all those months. She was inspired by their connection,
and within the distance of their two beds, Felicity reached out to take Oliver’s
hand, both of them wincing from the pain of their wounds.
Felicity knew then, with everything in her, that she did not
want to wait anymore. She squeezed Oliver’s hand—and asked him to marry her.
Felicity lost herself in her memories and didn’t see that
Oliver had come into the bathroom, standing quietly behind her as he admired
“Hey,” she said to him in the mirror. “I love when you sneak
up behind me like that.”
Oliver closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms
around her shoulders. “Yeah,” he replied. “Any time I can hold you, sneaking or
otherwise, is a gift for me. Are you okay?”
Felicity traced her scars again. “Yeah,” she answered. “I’m
okay, but what am I going to do about these?”
Oliver reached around her and put his hand on her scars. “Why
do you have to do anything about them?”
“Well,” Felicity replied. “Don’t you think they’re…uh, well
aren’t they ugly?”
“Felicity, you’re talking to the Scar King here. I think
they make you ever more beautiful. They are a permanent reminder of the
beautiful babies you brought into the world.” He frowned, paused, and then went
on. “None of my scars remind of anything nice like that.”
Felicity smiled and put her hand on his. “Baby, that was the
absolute right answer. But I disagree about your scars. I always thought they
made you look so damn sexy.”
“Felicity,” he told her. “You’re remarkable. Have I ever
told you that?”