Mr. Mimicry

@mrmimicry.bsky.social

79 Followers 191 Following

Prolific reader, nonexistent author, posting quotes from web serials and books I read. What did you think we got up to while waiting for clumsy adventurers?

A screenshot of a chapters text of the story Path of the Deathless on Royal Road. The text reads: Now, it's the unfortunate fate of every artist to suffer under the heel of a cunt with a sword. Because the cunts with swords are good at that one thing, and that one thing allows them to squeeze their fellow man. But a cunt with a sword doesn't make anything. They go out; they kill monsters. Sometimes you need a cunt with a sword. But when that's all you're good at and that's all you're worth, you're going to eventually run into another cunt with a sword. That cunt’s sword will be bigger and better than yours, and their cunt will swallow yours. But neither of these cunts will be able to make shelter for themselves. They won't be able to feed other people or figure out which berries are poisonous and which ones aren't. They won't be able to repair their own clothing or fix their own sword. They won't be able to find their own way home even if you give them a map and a compass and a talking fucking dog with a Heroic-Tier sniffing skill. I guess the main thing I'm trying to impart on you is that you want to be able to give. You want to be able to create, not just take, not just reduce. Civilization is about people. I know a lot of people are just cunts and assholes, but even if they're cunts and assholes, think about what they give each other. Think about what they do for each other.
A book excerpt: The diviner was staring at the dregs in his cup, then frowned. The effect of the strangely positioned, jutting head with its even more jutting spike of a pony tail, suddenly frowning was enough to make Tian the discombobulated one for a moment. “Boy, do you have any… unsavory habits?” “I don’t think so, but then, I wouldn’t know, would I? Could you narrow it down?” “Are you… interested in girls?” “Not romantically.” “Boys?” “Not romantically.” “Would you say that… you had carnal knowledge of a bird, you filthy little degenerate?! Confess at once!” “Does eating poultry count as carnal knowledge?” Tian was the one to spread his arms this time. “Ancestors preserve me, I hope not.” Outspread the Discombobulated shook his head. “But it says here you are chasing your daughter, who is a bird. And that means you did something dreadful with a different bird. And I drank your tea. In a long, happy life, this may be my darkest day.” Tian blinked. Then blinked again. “She’s adopted. A foster arrangement.” Outspread counter-blinked. “Fostering. A bird.” “Yes.” “Boy, are you crazy?” “I’m not crazy, I’m just not well."
A book quote: "Are you usually bandits?" he asked. "Is this your profession?" "Fifth time," the largest one said. There was a note of pride in its voice. "Fifth time robbing someone?" "Fifth time trying." "...Trying?" "Yes." Sael waited. The goblins did not elaborate. "And the previous four times?" he prompted. "Did not work," the largest one admitted.
A screenshot of a book quote: The doorknob started to turn as I quickly turned to Ophelia, putting on the most serious face I could. “I forgot to tell you—he’s… he’s a thing, a bizarre creature. You have to watch out.” I warned the now-concerned woman as the doors swung open. In walked William. As always, in a full suit, his black hair falling flat against his scalp, of course, in a faultless, combed hairstyle. He wore a fine, deep-blue coat over the suit, with a fancy, silver-decorated dagger sticking out from the inside. His face was handsome, bringing to mind English aristocrats from TV dramas. “Don’t move,” I whispered to the now slightly panicked Ophelia, as all of us froze in place—aside from Luna and Q’Shar, who just sighed, rolling their eyes. “What’s going on?” Ophelia whispered. “Can you idiots stop?” William asked with a groan. “It’s unbecoming of a grown man.” We still sat without moving. “It’s kinda fucked up, but he’s… he’s—” I said, as if struggling. “He’s… British.” I let the silence hang. “I heard they react to movement,” I whispered to Ophelia. She took a while to process my words and then turned to me with a mixture of disbelief and disapproval.
A book quote: Tian’s first move was the product of years of careful, expert training, built on top of a couple of months running through the jungle. It might, to the uneducated eye, have looked like wild flailing. Nevertheless, he was prepared to argue that it was really very tactical and sophisticated, especially since flaming monkeys jumping at your face with their enormous teeth and jagged claws and flames leaping off their white-gold fur merited the highest level of combat.
Sister Su just calls them out, and if they won’t duel, she follows them around and loudly reads essays, with footnotes, references, appendices and codicils, about their moral, physical, spiritual and hygienic failures. She got a little printing machine, hand cranked. She’s gotten very fast at setting the type, and has started commissioning new blocks of characters in different handwriting for extra emphasis. Sis’ Su has all her little printing blocks organized, categorized and regimented better than a unit of Imperial Guardsmen. She prints fliers, and distributes them widely, even commissioning missions to other Immortal Grottos (which is what they call their subsidiary temples.) The fliers come with attached bibliographies and a table of citations, as well as lists of women whom the young masters have failed to satisfy. She usually includes the ‘gentlemen’s’ mothers, but notes that the disappointment is merely inferred based on the totality of evidence. I insist that you picture Sis’ Su, sitting at her worktable, carefully and precisely setting the characters into wooden forms. It’s all backward, of course, so it prints properly on the page. With her slim, white fingers, stained with blue-black ink, she arranges the following sentence- “Allegations that he has personally received the unspeakable attentions of a Bull Hippopotamus, repeatedly and enthusiastically, are not without support despite his embarrassing physique and general lack of vigour. See Appendix C for an explanation of what a Hippopotamus is.”
I will take my future payment in horses, bush mage,” Xathar rumbled for the fourth time. Marcus just did his best to hang on, legs already itching. The demon was running fast enough to exhaust any regular horse within miles, something it had been doing for over an hour now. “It was old, sickly and so very stale, but I found it to be a pleasant experience.” Marcus grunted. “I’m happy you’re happy. And no, you won’t get to eat a horse every time I need your services. We’ll save it for special occasions.” Xathar grumbled something about greedy bushes, moving left to dodge a fallen tree
"Sure, this might be some sort of Trojan Horse, but it also might be a ‘Don’t-look-a-gift-horse-in-the-mouth’ type situation.” “This analogy has a lot of horses, Dan,” Croc said softly, before stealing a furtive look toward Nikoli. “Do you think he has some sort of secret bargain with horse people?” I pinched the bridge of my noise. “What? No. Don’t worry about the horses, bud."
Shiv. Look at me. Look at me. Speak the truth. Say what is right. Do not be your parents right now.” “Are you felling serious?” Shiv hissed. “You’re using that on me now?” “Well, I’m not going to out-bloody-seduce Uva, am I?” Adam said. “Pitiful,” Uva deadpanned. “To give up without even trying. Do seduce Shiv, Adam. Let me see how you might do it.”
He found a rock in the courtyard to sit on and pulled out his bowl. He had eaten half of it before he realized he wasn’t alone. “Oh. Didn't see you. Sorry.” Even he didn’t believe he sounded sincere. “You looked straight at me, and didn’t see me. I’m not asking, I am telling you that you looked straight at me and didn’t see me. If I thought I would succeed, I really do think I would try to kill you right now.” Lin said. Her tone was conversational, but Tian believed her.
"I… I am the potato?" Shiv mumbled, mimicking slicing motions in the air. Uva winced slightly. "No, Shiv, you are not a potato. You are misremembering. Your memories have mingled. You have overdrawn and over-focused on the wrong part of your mind. This happens in Psychomancy sometimes. I will mend you in a moment." "I'm not a potato?" "No, Shiv, you are not the potato."
“The Ramsdale estate is cursed. The village too. Terrible things happen here.” “Well I'm sure terrible things happen everywhere.” “All too true. But especially bad here. A month before Mrs Ramsdale disappeared, she purchased a new hunting dog for the kennels.”