The others stare in horror as I retrieve my violin from the chest.
"What?" I ask, annoyed.
"Th-that's a mimic. You're elbow-deep in a mimic!"
"It's a security measure."
"How are you not being eaten right now!?"
"Would YOU eat wood and metal?" Gods, meatbags are dense sometimes.
What is a writer?
A miserable little pile of words!
Call me MP or Miz
Fiction attempted, with various levels of success.
Yes, I do need help, thank you for noticing.
AO3 Fiction Archive
archiveofourown.org/users/MiserablePileOfWordsDreamwidth Fiction
amiserablepileofwords.dreamwidth.org/Tumblr Mirror
www.tumblr.com/blog/amiserablepileofwordsItch page
amiserablepileofwords.itch.io/You must log in to comment.
Pinned Tags