Whatever their hope was, it did not materialize. I am trapped on a dead world, maybe my gut flora will inherit it after I’ve starved.

I step out of the portal and all the trees are petrified, the dryads dead at my feet, the last bit of magic powering the portal fizzling

“thank you for listening to me”, he spoke to the empty chair

Binary trees make for a decent magic conductor in a pinch. Magic has not yet caught on that they’re not really wood. Please don’t tell it.

The mountains hear the challenge and prepare for battle, to meet civilizations worth of architecture, led by the renegade demimountain

The pyramid bellows a command in a voice of shifting rocks↵It reverberates over the plain↵Cities dwindle as houses wake up and march to war

The nest is cushioned with all manners of gems: a great treasure but jealously protected by the mother who has eviscerated many a miner.

The crystal eagle’s nest is perched under the base of the mountain. A small number of geodes lie in it, still dreaming, waiting to evert.

Stones, worn smooth from bumping into other stones constantly.↵Minds, creased and crinkled instead, with lots of things hanging on to them.

Trout: A tale of light broken by waves and narrow escapes from predators.↵Bread: Wind, burning sun, mice.↵Milk: Warmth, love, confusion.

The stroke stole all his words but the stories still burn in his mind. He now cooks them, talks in spices to people his subtlety is lost on.

Your symbol: a tesseract↵Your task: throw the dice, defeat the odds; wear many faces↵Your destiny: lost after 3 right turns

Planets with a spin of ½ have twice the surface area, which makes them highly sought after by colonists.

This cloud looks extremely suspicious: a bunch of tornadacles are dangling from its belly, wrapping around another cloud, reeling it in

Dig the pit just right, yes, leave a little iron in it, set off the charge, if you did it right a meteor will form and leave at great speed

Mass is inside an old reactor dome, the priest wears a hazmat suit and hands out iodine tablets, and the congregate dances a chain reaction.

The Church of the Fission Reactor has made religious schismata part of their dogma. The more heretic beliefs you hold, the holier.

We stripmined the Moon and in it, found a continent-sized gear. The Builders had just left it there after finishing the Round Earth Project.

@allgebrah the fundamental shapes are underrepresented among occult and religious symbols↵semioticians, apply yourselves

Your occult symbol: a circle↵Your task: separate inside and outside; repeat, uphold the rhythm↵Your destiny: eternal recurrence

Your occult symbol: a straight line↵Your task: find syzygies and otherwise bring them about; drive progress↵Your destiny: be born, live, die

Chronoleeches suck his time, his limbs age at different speeds, one half of his brain has five years on the other and constantly berates it.

Three moons, but only one is real!↵Will you land on the right one and take home the prize? Or fall through its surface and vanish?

Old idea of mine whose time may have come: VR/AR overlay that lets you spam virtual graffiti and imaginary buildings

your cat molts, steps out of her skin, emerges just a bit taller↵not long until she spins a fluffy cocoon to end her caterpillar stage

Long abandoned, a local desert wind often moves in to overwinter. Its snore fills the palace with dust and the towers once again stand tall.

In the desert, the Palace of Winds stands invisible. Dust devils trace its corridors. A jinn built it, in love, granting a fourth wish.

These people’s superstitions are rich and varied: where the shadows mix, new qualities emerge, certain ones are not to be stepped in

Multiple suns light the sky and people throw multiple shadows, each of a different character: unstable, sinister, rebellious, sullen

The future saints of: skewered by a particle accelerator beam, eaten by grey goo, mindwiped by a hacked neural interface, lost in space

Proposed rule: For any imaginable violent death, there is a catholic saint it claimed. If there is none (too new?), there will be one.

We succeeded in making our robots more natural than nature itself: fluffier, shinier, greener, deadlier. So we just gave up on the biosphere

a creature of the city, small, formless, it collects discarded memories to eat them, grows into something people expect but never remember

Reality did not crack as it fell to the floor. It did, however, make one hell of a noise.↵BANG-ANG-Ang-aanng-aaaannnng-a a a annn an a a

Discovered by an imprisoned witch, a plant growth spell for example will split into the (unstable by themselves) swelling and aging spells.

An essential tool in spell analysis is to diffract it through a wrought iron grid to split it into its semantic constituents.

Every page of my earth orbit book opens a portal to space. Found an NSA satellite in it once, glued a fly to its camera to mess with them.

Nobody can die here. There is no night. The wind is endless. Some walk out into the plains and lie down to watch the blank sky for millennia

The palaces of the powerful are mazes of flesh shivering in the wind to shield their inhabitants, staring into the distance with dead eyes

Human civilization in Limbo has nothing but their naked selves on a featureless plain. Often, members serve as someone’s tool or dwelling.

a hive of parasitic wasps has grown in the flesh of your left arm but it’s cool because nobody bothers you at night as they buzz around you

@allgebrah “I never met one of you guys and my grandfather didn’t live long enough to teach me much I had to figure out everything myself an

@allgebrah “oh so you’re a necromancer too?” and her eyes light up in a way you think is more than just excitement, just a hint of green

@allgebrah twist: she’s a necromancer and thinks that’s totally cute and romantic

you profess your undying love but get the word order wrong and it comes out as “I will kill you and fuck the [reanimated] body”

Embrace oblivion, keep it as a pet, let it eat discarded memories and nibble at your mental calluses, stay nimble, raw and fresh

I looked into the abyss and the abyss flinched

The drug produces lasting insights but during the week-long comedown, everything looks obvious and boring.

Nobody had quite tested the limits of the new icebreaker so as it ran ashore, it just kept plowing on, leaving behind new tectonic plates.

advertising cyranoids in our midst are the inevitable end game of ad based business models [is your mother an ad zombie? find out here!]