moral problems.

how do you lick apples.

[mimicic]

#MIMICIC. independent original character named mim. inconsistent activity. somewhat selective. will not follow anyone underage. written by jordy (they/it/he), ‘95, est, other accounts here.

ABOUT + RULES ⤵

ABOUT: custom page (with additional info).

LISTEN /// LOOK /// READ

name mim age 22 gender agender (it/its) sexuality asexual grayromantic mind autism, apraxia, prosopagnosia ability dynamic camouflage languages english, some asl (can't sign; can understand it) occupation case study subject eyes brown or iridescent red and blobby when camouflaged height 5'0" face tatiana maslany as helena appearance short, blonde, unkempt bedhead hair; pink, striped turtleneck shirt; reddish eyelids; dark eye-bags; emotionally less expressive face; slouched in shoulders and back, frequently leaning and head lulling every which way, limp and dangling arms

RULES

shipping i ship chemistry. only at your discretion and approval. however, ships are not likely to happen with mim. at least, not without plotting and very particular instances. mim is asexual and grayromantic and doesn’t easily develop romantic feelings for others. replies tentatively mutuals only. if we’re not mutuals but you wish to write with me, send me a message and i’m sure we can work something out. age while i don’t mind minors following me, i will not write with or follow you. i’m simply not comfortable with the age gap and life discrepancy. icons i will occasionally use icons on this account. writing my writing is generally longer here, but i will try to keep in the ballpark of your reply length. do not feel compelled to do the same. i don’t use any formatting or small text. i don’t mind if you do, but i have difficulty reading heavily stylized text and tend to stay away from accounts that do so because of this.

[mimicic]

should you go through the odd but worthwhile gauntlet of courting mim, this is the type of physical affection it will show you.

[mimicic]

@martymouise

Mim did not eat the ping pong ball. It is gophering its leftways cheek out like it did. The ball is hidden in its loose fist. Its eyebags crease around the bulge of its smiling eyes. A rare expression. Like two crisply folded two-dollar bills. No moneyer than the commoner but funner to see.

[martymouise]

it only takes marty a second or two to see what's changed in how environment and how it's the absence of a little plastic white ball. it's only a second or two or three later when he figures out where it is. where it seems like it is. and outrage paints itself all francisco goya on him, no expression held back. 'what the hell, spit that out!' doesn't do the math on it, just goes for it. tries peeling it from it's mouth. 'your mother didn't teach you any fuckin manners?'

[mimicic]

It cannot answer. There is a big round lie in its mouth. And his fingers—bigger. Biggest: Mim’s grin. Marty is close to forcibly deflating the air out of its cheek. Before he can, its tongue understudies the place of Ping Pong Ball.

[mimicic]

@jupiterfree for emily.

Some time between its second and third chocolate milkshake, Mim has wrapped five napkins around its hands. All ten fingers crudely stabbed through three layers. The remaining napkins paper-mushy to its palm and hand-hind with the borrowed sweat of the drinks. It is a poor Emily costume. “Do you like your job.”

[mimicic]

@choicescreen for murdock.

Mim watches Murdock watching a bird watching a half eaten footlong hotdog seesaw on top of an overgarbaging trashcan.

[mimicic]

@thrownsoul

“I am an alien. Too.” With its tone sapped of any humancerity, it sounds psychtifically true.

But this is called a fib!

[thrownsoul]

"I'm not," Alice says, after a moment. Sorry, we know this is disappointing to some people.

"I'm human. And scarab is—an AI, technically. From space."

[mimicic]

Mim squints at the Not Eye looking thing on Alice’s back. “Aaay eye. From space.” In better words: “Alien eye.”

[orphanblackzone]

Helena + knowing that something is wrong with Sarah

[mimicic]

@lastsplashh for agnes.

After being dealt its first hand, perfect poker face: “Go fish.”

[mimicic]

@bluedprints

Mim is staring at Molly. In her bed. From its bed. Eyes as unblinking as a fluorescent nightlight. “Do you need a lulltobye.”

[mimicic]

@thrownsoul

“I am an alien. Too.” With its tone sapped of any humancerity, it sounds psychtifically true.

But this is called a fib!

[mimicic]

@martymouise

Mim did not eat the ping pong ball. It is gophering its leftways cheek out like it did. The ball is hidden in its loose fist. Its eyebags crease around the bulge of its smiling eyes. A rare expression. Like two crisply folded two-dollar bills. No moneyer than the commoner but funner to see.

[deidarx]

[mimicic]

@guttersniper

There it is. Lying on the full length of the public sidewalk. Like an evicted bridge troll. “Say a laugh and you can path.” In its knit-knot tongue, the words rhyme.

[mimicic]

like or reply for a starter slung your way.

[vitalphenomena]

CATE DOESN'T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE. Mim's mind works strangely and overwhelmingly. The processes that allow it to resist Cate's push are so complex and antithetical to Cate that she begins to feel her stomach ache underneath all the outrage and confusion.

Cate gains nothing by being here; doing so does not render Mim more susceptible to her influence. Instead, it continues to resist. Cate growls in frustration—immature and unrefined.

"Is this your whole thing?" she snaps. "Is this why they let you creep around? Great. Awesome. Cool. You can stop it, now."

She wraps her arms around herself tightly. She needs distance between herself and it. She cannot mentally create that distance anymore; all of her thoughts are Mim's cerebral responses and reflexes.

[mimicic]

Bingeye! They are connected. Opposides. Say So and No Go. Mim's pointer fingers poke its mouth. "Sssshhecret. You can not know. My trouble will be big."

[vitalphenomena]

CATE IS ALREADY PUTTING FORTH MORE ENERGY THAN SHE SHOULD. The command is simple. Moreover, Mim's mind—its organic desires and inclinations—do not particularly resist.

And yet.

Cate does not hear the clatter of the phone because blood vessels are popping in her eyes and Mim's own thoughts, or what its thoughts are capable of being perceived as and present as to ward off abilities such as Cate's, have begun to consume her stream of consciousness, her sensory perception.

Straining, strained: "Tell me—how—you're doing that."

[mimicic]

Pressure adds in Mim's mind. Like a weighted blanket. Almost calming. Grounding. Stabilizing. Smoothed. Flattened. Like curled, drying paper under a heavy book. Deep Pressure Therapy of the mind. The push is just as stuck and flat. Cate's eyes watercolor red. Mim's hand pulls away, its fingers an effortless, fluid curl into a fist while the skirting hand contact remains. Once gone: back to rigid and clunky. Delayed enough it's clear it's choosing to answer, not being compelled to: "My brain has normal abs." Its hands make see-through circles around its eyes. This takes a moment to render. "You have red eyes."

[vitalphenomena]

CATE SHUDDERS; ITS ABSURD, UNINHIBITED GESTURES NEVER DON'T UNNERVE HER.

Also—part of her is worried. What if this doesn't work? What if she has a weak spot? If she can't push an entity so simpleminded (sorry—it's how she feels), what if she will fail in other scenarios, too?

Cate reaches out to—gingerly, uncomfortably—wrap her fingers around its. As she does, she does something she had, until now, had absolutely zero interest in doing.

She seeks out its mind and—

"Give me the fucking phone."

—reaches inside.

[mimicic]

Bad word! Frown. Their fingers zipper together. Minds, too. Mim feels Cate's tug. The Push. Caught in its brain folds like a zipper on fabric only baby inches into fastening a coat. Her influence, her in its head, feels like a pinchy compression. Mim hears the command. Feels it in its brain. Something to react to, but is not fully beholden to. The push frays at its neurons into: Mim grabs the phone through its shirt. Mim drops it.

Overbite grin. A pinch is not so bad! Cate is not so bad! Mim pinches Cate's hand with its free hand to demonstrate. Inside its head and out: "Hillo." The company is nice. It is nice not being alone.