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⊠:)
Like cylinders of a lock, the planets revolve around the sun. Take the key, align them, and it will open to reveal what is behind.
As the Jupiter atmosphere probe flies overhead, sentient storms emerge from the cloud cover and jump along its path like dolphins.
scenes of utter depravityâ”[zooms onto a furry roleplay chat]â”[subliminal images of a VR gimpsuit]â”[someone self-liking their entire feed]
We like to visit the part of the city where a nuclear explosion was frozen in time by the cityâs glitch-powered missile defense shield.
cut reality to see if it bleeds: it doesâ”liquid time flows out, traps you like amberâ”realityâs skin heals over and youâre caught under it
Two lightning bolts chase each other, outside, across the meadow, do not heed what is around them, leave scars like writing on the ground.
a wave of rock is on the horizon, closing in, grasslands and forests break on fresh mountain faces that push through the ground like teeth
She cries soap bubbles that float upwards, each containing an unhappy memory, darkly iridescent like oil slick
fill me with useless data just like one of your terabyte externals
Some successes are documented, like one hive of eight humans and one octopus (needed for routing). But it was immobile and incomprehensible.
Metaphors, like horses, only carry you so far.
a glass knife to cut a light ray, not along its frequencies like a prism, but across so that it shatters and can be harvested
Donât be fooled by the parchments, I draw territories, not maps. Not sterile like the competitionâs, alive! Kingdoms of ink could be yours!
âAnd what is this?ââ”âThe Criticâs key, a skeleton key to lay open all stories. You probably wonât like its results, best not to use itâ
Like one of those moments when everybody in the room stops talking, sun and stars stopped shining for a minute. Left the sky perfectly dark.
A city arranged like a dreamcatcher: The citizensâ dreams wander into the center at night, come down with the morning dew and are collected.
An anonymous writersâ club where to be let in, you have to come up with a story the bouncers like (theyâre unusually bookish for bouncers)
A lost letter looking superficially like an o, but actually an endless stairwell of ink viewed from the topâ”Donât walk down unprepared
Smoke clouds acquire names like rider and bird, helicopters visit the still intact (only tilted) tip, people still work in the lower levels.
Next to the police, the unlaw enforcement has its seat, a building that seems to overgrow its neighbours like ivy. Officers fly in and out.
What we now call the Shadow Sea follows the Moon across Earthâs surface like a lost dog, in a tide that travels both oceans and continents.
It also turns out magic is not picky about what space is made of: GPUs soak up magic like sponges when running certain computations.
Setting: The universe stops expanding and the arrow of time reverses, but unevenly, like a wave on a shore both advancing and receding.
It must have embedded itself in the crust like a wooden splinter long ago. Mountain ranges have splashed and broken against it like waves.
she shows you how to tickle the stormâs belly with radio waves, its purr thunders over you, nearly throws you off your feetâ”âhe likes you!â
A starfarerâs constellations are ephemeral like a surfacerâs cloud formations. As stars move, mythical animals emerge and vanish in silence.
should you survive multiple purges and not lose your eyeballs, youâll be invited into secret meetings that do not look like meetings at all
facebo (n): like a placebo but for faces
My last trip through faerieland left me infected and now I sporulate little worlds. Like, I open a cupboard and find a tiny medieval city.
The production budget has run out. Tea is tasting stale, the animals are tired, the night sky shows stains like a run down cinemaâs screen.
We return to paradise but like all the other places of our childhood, it has become smaller - itâs just a few ancient trees on a hillside.
you wake up in a hospital bedâ”> look leftâ”occasional sloshing, tentacles probe under your curtainâ”> look rightâ”a sound like a boiling kettle
his hat is a tiny storm cloud that flashes up occasionally when heâs concentratingâ”you borrow it and it feels like cool wind in your hair
An extremely long earthworm was hidden under the rock, curled in a way as to look like a brain. Around it, a protective shell was hardening.
I find them sitting in a tree: it looks like a swarm of bats is hanging off its branches.
#roster uses a junction table for tags insteaf of like, so #graph does not match #graphite. Should have done that from the start.
#roster uses a junction table for tags insteaf of like, so #graph does not match #graphite. Should have done that from the start.
sheâs reading me like a book: staring at me, thumbing through pages I didnât know I had, leaving coffee stains, discarding me for the day