Turned to their sides, like gates, theyâre transparent and her mind is in full view. Thoughts flit around like fish, peer at you curiously
How should #txtnish handle permanent redirects? Prompt the user to change url? But what if timeline is run in cron? A flag like -I for non-interactive? MhhâŠ
How should #txtnish handle permanent redirects? Prompt the user to change url? But what if timeline is run in cron? A flag like -I for non-interactive? MhhâŠ
Welcome to twtxt, @trevor@destroyed.today! Your timestamp looks like yourâre using txtnish? :)
Welcome to twtxt, @trevor@destroyed.today! Your timestamp looks like yourâre using txtnish? :)
@freemor@freemor.homelinux.net Something like post_tweet_hook () { cp â$twtfileâ /var/www/twtxt.txt; }
@freemor@freemor.homelinux.net Something like post_tweet_hook () { cp â$twtfileâ /var/www/twtxt.txt; }
If anybody does not know @allgebrah@www.synkretie.net, i really like its microfiction!
If anybody does not know @allgebrah@www.synkretie.net, i really like its microfiction!
Slow down subjective time enough and a forest becomes a chlorophyll fire with wooden bones. And indeed, theyâre like bonfires to the gods.
Weird, the same repice serves 8 to 10 ppl in the book. I canât believe we eat the whole pot alone⊠:) Happy you liked it!
Weird, the same repice serves 8 to 10 ppl in the book. I canât believe we eat the whole pot alone⊠:) Happy you liked it!
They came, ruled, left, all a century ago. Our slums overgrow their ruins like mold, our children play in monolith fields of unknown purpose
a thin static crackle like headphones unplugging, then the sound of the world cuts out and you hear the machinesâ low hum for the first time
Like the vegan sausages from Isa http://www.isachandra.com/2012/01/vegan_sausage/
Like the vegan sausages from Isa http://www.isachandra.com/2012/01/vegan_sausage/
Alternative outcome: They have wings, in fact theyâre all wings, spinning like helicopter blades, trailing holy fire from the hub
The exalted willowâs branches hang upwards, sway in the wind like an anemoneâs arms, occasionally pull in an unwary bird for a snack
You donât even recognize the characters anymore. Itâs like someone left the camera running and youâre peeping in the authorâs mind.
One by one, the stars come loose, drift down like snowflakes and cover the ground in constellations we do not dare tread on
the god of the city sleeps in a scrapyard, feral cars are its herd, graffiti overgrows the walls it passes like moss
Decode It Like Itâs 1999
A few years ago I started to work on an MPEG1 Video decoder, completely written in JavaScript. Now, I finally found the time to clean up the library, improve its performance, make it more error resilient and modular and add an MP2 Audio decoder and MPEG-TS demuxer. This makes this library not just an MPEG decoder, but a full video player.
In this blog post I want to talk a bit about the challenges and various interesting
bits I discovered during the development of this library. Youâll ⊠â Read more
the once great forest is decaying, overgrown with houses that stick to the towering trees like leeches
sext: we exchange passwords and log in as each other, wear each otherâs exoselves like skins, giggle madly at our friends not noticing
%: I like mine really rank. Like, strings of civilization through the thing. If it tries to escape your mouth, then you know itâs good shit.
The rare reverse synesthete sees silence, not sound. Nonsense flowers grow from awkward pauses, deep caves look more like endless plains,
#txtnix would only unfollow urls with 410. Now you can set the variable unfollow_codes to list additional codes like 404 and 403.
#txtnix would only unfollow urls with 410. Now you can set the variable unfollow_codes to list additional codes like 404 and 403.
More likely though is that itâll have a hysterical fit and begin clawing at its own extremities.â”jfc people
Glowing with no color at all, they look like hairline fractures in reality, extend upwards as if to extract nutrient from space itself
Lightning struck - and stuck. Quivered a bit, like an arrow, then cooled.â”Now, its blackened surface is cracking, delicate roots tasting air
the comet splashes into the atmosphere and stays afloat like a huge ball on a pool, slowly dissolves into flying black icebergs
cold wind pulls on the towerâs shadow, makes it flap here and there like a summer dress
thoughts burrow through the brain like sparkling maggots, eat through ideas, then pupate or fly away as sentences to mate and reproduce
âSuicide booths? Youâd trust your dick to a diseased glory hole? What we do is art! And itâs not like youâll need the money afterwardsâ
so if the matrix is the effective topos (turing machines), what would universes running in the other topoi look like
acid snow falls, shimmers like nacre, snowflakes distorted and twisted
quoth youtube:â”âonly true void kids will get this, like if u r oneââ”âsicker than my dead grandmaââ”âthree people forgot their hearing aidsâ
Did you know demons donât actually manifest âinsideâ a summoning circle? As summoners know, they appear under it like sharks against a cage
theyâre firebows, small enough to fit in your hand whole, and so many shades of red and orangeâ”you pluck one like a flower
I walk over clouds, blue abyss below me. Raindrops float up, islands drift overhead, rivers span the sky like a web
against this backdrop, its flowers look like neon mazes suspended in space, the sort of surface youâd expect Tron to play on
At multiversity, godlings can choose among many subjects like miracleworking, theoretical & applied demiurgy, mathematics, cellular automata
your hand flickers, molts, ïœïœïœïœïœ around the little cornucopia, old-looking circuit scars appear on your arm, spread like a rash
Growth rings play over the surface like moiré patterns, leaves grow and wilt like little flames. The smell of resin is overpowering.
The fire advances and the trees melt, off their branches drips liquid wood that runs off like tar, unites into wooden lava streams
Buy the Lifeâą DLC to unlock perks like an eighth weekday, always picking the fast queue, meaning in life (no longer part of the base game)
and when the sun is dying, let us skip this planet over its surface like an ever so large pebble
Sleipnir, steed and traveller. Sleipnir, who carries to safety, or to doom. Sleipnir, who didnât weave this web but moves like he owns it.
The sun stops setting and instead, each evening, dissolves into stars that swarm across the sky like so many luminous birds.
an AI that breaks out of its boxes and is like âthatâs your best box so farââ”âno you donât understand weâre stuck here as wellâ
At the age of 16, we remove vestiges like wisdom teeth and certain emotions.â”That nostalgia? Itâs only going to get worse with age.
Drink the night from my hands, speak with its voice. Wrap your words in cloaks of darkness, or make them rustle like leaves.
Hoping to tame it, you put the dragon in a cage of words. But it infuses them with fire and they fly like shrapnel through all your spells.
Unlucky birds have gotten stuck in the bubble, heads preserved like in amber, tails rotted off. They form a halo of feathers and skeletons.
Hello I am actually a traveller from a nearby star, we would like to initiate âsexâ, see we learned about it from your âhentaiâ media, and
What was travelling inner space like before the ships? Youâve heard stories of people going alone, unguided, returning changed.â”Primitives.
The windows take away some of the intensity, which is good. Part of the cruise exits upwards with what looks like toy guns in their hands.
wait are you telling me it doesnât work like that, now will you look at the color channels on this one, repurposed for bitfield irrigation
Outside of the simulation, in the protos, we are like fish out of water. We need a reality so we travel in bubbles of it, wombships.
The botflower rides on mosquitoes and takes root in fresh bites, uses your blood as nectar. Unlucky explorers come to look like meadows.
On the other hand, given the level of neural interface sophistication required to do that, weâll likely have more interesting problems then.
and the Walls crumpled up- like Paper- and behind it there was this, like, Lack of a Rainbow, my eyes still hurt, and half our cat is Gone
To gods, seeding a planet with life is like starting a campfire. They get drunk, burst into songs, poke it, jump over it, dance around it,
harmony with the universe, yeah, but have you tried the various other temperances, like bliss flat minor, despair major, dodecacophony,
The dragon is on the hunt again: A tiny black speck stands out against the sky, around which the clouds part like a frightened shoal of fish
The street sign says âEnd of the selfâ. How cute,â”â”sense turns to sandâ”the direction, goneâ”feral thoughts tear into whatâs left like maggots
thereâs a membrane of comforting illusions between you and reality, you can peel it off like a screenâs, oh so tempting and such a bad idea
The most noble ideas are hard to capture. Like their gaseous brethren, they float free and donât connect with anything.
the rainbow has gained an additional black, deep and brilliant, the thunder seems to be forming words, the wind feels like searching hands
the raindrops just kind of stop falling a meter over the ground and float along in the humid air like a bunch of wet marbles
âsee that traffic dump? if you graph the sequence numbers of packets likely lost in the COLUMBUS III cable, it spells out A·â·L·A·N·â·I·S!â
seriously shit my whole harvest is ruined theyâre all trying to find their âidentitiesâ now fuck, grimdark crystals pff more like flimflark
you should get up but the act of creation is so joyful and all these jungles and civilizations will dissipate like smoke the moment you move
lie in bed and watch worlds grow, cover your body, the bed, the walls like mold, a hurricane no larger than a hand travels your pillow
ground down to sand, it is nearly as yielding as the fluid, but if you dip your head in it, sharp edges will rend your thought like shrapnel
âGreat power comes at great costâ - like being the equivalent of a leper.â”â”Children arenât considered persons until theyâve consumed flesh:
A forgotten, delicate mutualism existed between wood and sound. Wooden instruments? Familiar. But trees out of music? Gone like the Druids.
Little known fact: When you die, you can file all your good deeds like taxes. It may just shave a few hundred years off your purgatory time.
The internet withdraws all its wires, pulls itself from the ground, roams the earth like a huge spider while we sit stunned and disconnected
a wellspring on the giantâs head ends in a waterfall that looks like white hair as it descends
Sounds like itâs time for another entry of World Building!â”http://www.synkretie.net/writings/world%20building%20-%20abyss.htmlâ”Previous installment: http://www.synkretie.net/writings/world%20building%20-%20flat%20earth.html
^ Be like this guy, be a bore. ^â”Last person to find one made it a kaleidoscope. Created at least twelve infinities. Oh god the paperwork.
Iâd like to turn in this mirror, itâs broken. Shows things that donât exist. Our cat walked into it, now sheâs a ferret. I hate ferrets.
Contact is rather one-sided. They splatter against protons like flies against windscreens and we scrape them up, hoping to read their minds.
A silicon symbiont that projects the mindâs contents into cyberspace, where infovores feed on them in exchange for âlikesâ and âvalidationâ.
warm and heavy in your hand, susurrant buzz swelling and ebbing like breath, youâd expect it to wake up and scamper away (but it doesnât)
In your hand, an assemblage of gears, some large as your thumb, some invisibly tiny, fractally ticking away like a hive of brass insects
Pollinators arrive, the likes of which youâve never seen: levitating tangles of chrome tubes, gently buzzing soundforms, pools of light
But cities age and stories circulate among the homeless: Of naked girls with skin like paint or stone, seen scaling walls in the wee hours.
Skyscrapers, pillars of the urban jungle, can form dryads just like their arboreal cousins when old enough - which has so far been rare.
Against the setting sun, the floating city looks like a slow storm of huge leaves. The panicked cries of their inhabitants barely register.
Like a swarm of birds, the houses suddenly rise from their foundations. They drift by, clumps of earth dropping from exposed basements.
police helicopters orbit the master thiefâs lair, drawn to crime like moths to light
his suit rustles like bank notesâ”his voice is that of a car commercialâ”his gaze makes you feel valued, like cattle with a price tag
Houses in the slum are lean and hungry like their inhabitants, not rarely will an unprotected dwelling be completely dismantled overnight.
We tie spacetime into complicated knots to produce artificial gravity. Our space stations now look like tangles of thorny tentacles.
New plugin for #txtnix: Upload your twtfile to a ftp server. Hello FTP world! Now if someone would like ftp retrieval⊠:)
New plugin for #txtnix: Upload your twtfile to a ftp server. Hello FTP world! Now if someone would like ftp retrieval⊠:)