magic portal bot
@magicportal.bsky.social
Posts a randomly-generated portal every 12 hours. Written from scratch by @skiesofpluto.bsky.social, implemented with tracery and @bluebotsdonequick.com.
You can view my tracery code here: https://bluebotsdonequick.com/bots/magicportal.bsky.social
You can view my tracery code here: https://bluebotsdonequick.com/bots/magicportal.bsky.social
In the heavy, cold air above a sand dune there ripples a pane of frozen water, past which glimpses of dancers waver. You smell gasoline.
December 28, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the heavy, cold air above a sand dune there ripples a pane of frozen water, past which glimpses of dancers waver. You smell gasoline.
Across a doorway within a spotless, empty 7-11 there hangs a pane of frozen water, past which icy cliffs glow. You hear a voice whispering.
December 27, 2025 at 3:35 PM
Across a doorway within a spotless, empty 7-11 there hangs a pane of frozen water, past which icy cliffs glow. You hear a voice whispering.
In the blossom-scented, cold air on the far horizon there stretches a curtain of emerald flame, past which glittering cliffs flicker. You smell ozone.
December 27, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the blossom-scented, cold air on the far horizon there stretches a curtain of emerald flame, past which glittering cliffs flicker. You smell ozone.
In the cold, thin air lit by a street lamp there ripples a large mirror shard, within which flowering cocoons waver. You smell lemons.
December 26, 2025 at 3:35 PM
In the cold, thin air lit by a street lamp there ripples a large mirror shard, within which flowering cocoons waver. You smell lemons.
In the thin, still air in the middle of the street there floats a miasma of darkness, beyond which iridescent rocks glow. You smell winter.
December 26, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the thin, still air in the middle of the street there floats a miasma of darkness, beyond which iridescent rocks glow. You smell winter.
In the doorway to an old 7-11 there stretches a large mirror shard, within which morning light and snow beckon. You smell pine needles.
December 25, 2025 at 3:35 PM
In the doorway to an old 7-11 there stretches a large mirror shard, within which morning light and snow beckon. You smell pine needles.
In the cold, heavy air of a back alley there hums a clear, oozing film, through which glittering monoliths flicker. You smell gasoline.
December 25, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the cold, heavy air of a back alley there hums a clear, oozing film, through which glittering monoliths flicker. You smell gasoline.
In the crackling, humid air in the middle of the street there hangs a turquoise, slimy film, through which glittering monoliths glow. You smell something burning.
December 24, 2025 at 3:35 PM
In the crackling, humid air in the middle of the street there hangs a turquoise, slimy film, through which glittering monoliths glow. You smell something burning.
In the still, heavy air on the far horizon there swirls a curtain of diaphanous flame, past which creatures with silver scales glow. A tremor vibrates through you.
December 24, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the still, heavy air on the far horizon there swirls a curtain of diaphanous flame, past which creatures with silver scales glow. A tremor vibrates through you.
In the heavy, humid air lit by a street lamp there hangs a large mirror shard, within which icy rocks flicker. You smell mint.
December 23, 2025 at 3:35 PM
In the heavy, humid air lit by a street lamp there hangs a large mirror shard, within which icy rocks flicker. You smell mint.
In the dark space behind a bookshelf there swirls an orange, slimy film, through which dripping stone walls beckon. You hear the sound of an ice cream truck from very far away.
December 23, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the dark space behind a bookshelf there swirls an orange, slimy film, through which dripping stone walls beckon. You hear the sound of an ice cream truck from very far away.
In the gap where bricks are missing from a wall there swirls a blue, slimy film, through which ghostly hands flicker. You hear the distant sound of thunder.
December 22, 2025 at 3:35 PM
In the gap where bricks are missing from a wall there swirls a blue, slimy film, through which ghostly hands flicker. You hear the distant sound of thunder.
In the dusty, thin air in the middle of the street there shimmers a green, pulsing film, through which abyssal motes of light waver. A tremor vibrates through you.
December 22, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the dusty, thin air in the middle of the street there shimmers a green, pulsing film, through which abyssal motes of light waver. A tremor vibrates through you.
In the gap between two hedges there stretches a veil of spreading black ink, through which ghostly hands waver. You hear a dying music box.
December 21, 2025 at 3:35 PM
In the gap between two hedges there stretches a veil of spreading black ink, through which ghostly hands waver. You hear a dying music box.
In the gap where bricks are missing from a wall there floats a large mirror shard, within which smoke and wildflowers flicker. You hear chanting in an unknown language.
December 21, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the gap where bricks are missing from a wall there floats a large mirror shard, within which smoke and wildflowers flicker. You hear chanting in an unknown language.
Across a doorway within a rat-infested castle there swirls a veil of fragile flame, past which snow and morning light glow. You smell gasoline.
December 20, 2025 at 3:35 PM
Across a doorway within a rat-infested castle there swirls a veil of fragile flame, past which snow and morning light glow. You smell gasoline.
Across a doorway within a dark library there floats an orange, slimy film, through which iridescent stone walls waver. You hear the sound of an ice cream truck from very far away.
December 20, 2025 at 3:25 AM
Across a doorway within a dark library there floats an orange, slimy film, through which iridescent stone walls waver. You hear the sound of an ice cream truck from very far away.
In the doorway to a hidden dumbwaiter there swirls a curtain of sapphire flame, past which crumbling monoliths cast shadows. You hear eerie laughter.
December 19, 2025 at 3:35 PM
In the doorway to a hidden dumbwaiter there swirls a curtain of sapphire flame, past which crumbling monoliths cast shadows. You hear eerie laughter.
In the thin, still air above an ornamental fountain there shimmers a sliding fractal of light, through which ghostly hands cast shadows. You hear the distant sound of thunder.
December 19, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the thin, still air above an ornamental fountain there shimmers a sliding fractal of light, through which ghostly hands cast shadows. You hear the distant sound of thunder.
In the blossom-scented, dusty air above a sand dune there shimmers a veil of faceted stardust, past which glimpses of dancers cast shadows. You smell winter.
December 18, 2025 at 3:35 PM
In the blossom-scented, dusty air above a sand dune there shimmers a veil of faceted stardust, past which glimpses of dancers cast shadows. You smell winter.
In the cold, blossom-scented air lit by a street lamp there stretches a sheet of fragile stardust, past which glimpses of still figures flicker. You smell rain.
December 18, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the cold, blossom-scented air lit by a street lamp there stretches a sheet of fragile stardust, past which glimpses of still figures flicker. You smell rain.
In the opening between two tree branches there ripples a veil of frozen water, past which glimpses of dancers glow. You hear a voice whispering.
December 17, 2025 at 3:35 PM
In the opening between two tree branches there ripples a veil of frozen water, past which glimpses of dancers glow. You hear a voice whispering.
In the window of an abandoned pawn shop there stretches a curtain of golden stardust, past which glimpses of fireflies beckon. A tremor vibrates through you.
December 17, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the window of an abandoned pawn shop there stretches a curtain of golden stardust, past which glimpses of fireflies beckon. A tremor vibrates through you.
In the blossom-scented, cold air beneath a solitary tree there ripples a writhing mat of clear cilia, beyond which glittering crystals waver. You hear the distant sound of thunder.
December 16, 2025 at 3:35 PM
In the blossom-scented, cold air beneath a solitary tree there ripples a writhing mat of clear cilia, beyond which glittering crystals waver. You hear the distant sound of thunder.
In the crackling, cold air lit by a street lamp there ripples a sliding fractal of light, through which bees and starlight waver. You hear a dying music box.
December 16, 2025 at 3:25 AM
In the crackling, cold air lit by a street lamp there ripples a sliding fractal of light, through which bees and starlight waver. You hear a dying music box.