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BintangFortuna

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Bintang Fortuna 2

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Five years ago, the princess was kidnapped and never seen again. Today she returns, her eyes no longer shining with innocence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "King Harold sat upon his thrown, worn eyes and grey hair staring blankly at the man before him, mumbling something about pests and fields. Ever since Elena disappeared, he had grown ragged and worn. His focus shifted often and he had become slightly senile, and lately it had begun to show more than ever.\n\n\"...tried everything to get them to-\" The villager looked up at the desolate king, realizing now his complaints fell on deaf ears.\n\n\"Em sorry to've bottered you, M'Lord, I'll take m'leave,\" The man said as he turned towards the great doors behind him.\n\nLooking up, the king said quietly, \"Wait. Talk to the chamberlain, he will see you done ri-\" Suddenly, the doors swung open, slamming into the walls that held them. A woman in worn leathers marched in, several men behind her following suit. Her hair was clean and straight, as was her face, but the rest of her solid looking form was covered in dirt. King Harolds eyes widened, for her hair was brilliantly golden, almost glowing in the light of the sun streaming through the doors behind her. Her eyes, once innocent and vibrant were still the same bright green they had been, but now were cold and flat.\n\nA knight stepped forward to stop her, but in one swift movement, she pivoted her feet and turned to his side and pushed him over her foot, sending him slamming to the floor. She then drew close to the king and pulled the bow from her back, nocking an arrow and leveling it towards his head.\n\n\"Give me a reason not to kill you, old man.\"\n\nTears welled from his eyes as he looked upon her. The other knights started to approach from behind, as her fellows drew their swords to face them. Harold raised a hand to stay them. \"My Elena, you are alive... I had been searching for so long!\" He started to stand, but before he could fully get to his feet, he began to convulse.\n\nHarold fell back to his chair, eyes rolling back as he shook violently on his throne. A young man rushed from the side of the throne room, vial in hand. He was near Elenas age, and she mused that he looked rather handsome, if also a little familiar. She lowered her bow, \"What has happened to him?\"\n\nThe young man was pouring the contents of the vial into the kings mouth, while holding a thickly gloved hand on the kings lower teeth. He didn't respond immediately, putting intense focus on his patient. An frail, elderly man stepped from the shadows where the young man had rushed from.\n\n\"Young Elena, your father has suffered these fits since the day you disappeared. He has been wrought with fevers and the like, over worrying for your safety. You must understand, surely, that he has never given up on you? Even after many said you were dead, and even he announced it publicly, he still devoted everything to finding you.\"\n\nLowering her head, Elena sighed, \"I know, Father Albert, I know. But I was kidnapped right under his nose. I've just felt angry all this time. Everything I've had to go through is because he didn't find me. And I understand that it makes no sense...\" She looked upon Father Albert, he oldest mentor, before she had been kidnapped. Her eyes were red, as tears fell from her eyes.\n\nFather Albert gestured his arms to the king and stepped forward, \"My dear child. You've been through so much, I know. But you're home now.\"\n\nHer bow fell to the ground as she rushed to her father, who was just regaining consciousness, \"Oh father! Why couldn't you have found me! It's been so hard, so painful! I.... I was so lonely!\"\n\nHe reached his arms around her and closed his eyes, \"I'm so sorry my child. I did everything I could, you must know. You're home now, please forgive this old man for not having the power to save you.\"\n\nFather Albert gestured to the young man to join him by his side. The men who had come with Elena stepped back as well. As the sun streamed through the doors, the wind rustling the shades that had covered the windows, there was no longer a king upon a throne. Just a broken father holding a broken daughter, both shattered, but now joined once more." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A lone man wanders the post-apocalyptic wasteland. He hasn't seen another human for over fifteen years, not since the world ended. One day, while scavenging the wastes, a phone rings." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Every footstep was followed by the crackling sound of dried leaves. A distant whining was drowned out with every step he took. Steph learned to ignore the distant pleads for help over time, he didn’t survive this far to be baited by them.\n\n“Dumbasses” he whispered to himself.\n\nOvergrown weeds reclaimed most of the roads and billboards; the vegetation was thriving, as expected with rotting flesh made plenty over the years. He made his way down the fractured pavement, stepping over weeds growing out of snug cracks in the tarmac.\n\n“Step on a crack, break your mother’s back...” he mumbled to himself, remembering the rhyme as a child. “Fuck it, I’m allowed to step on cracks now.”\n\nSteph forced himself to smile, otherwise he’d break down right then and there. That couldn’t happen, at least not until he made it back to the cabin.\n\nLooking up at the billboards, only outlines of the advertisements could be made out. Years of weather and wind took a toll on them, the faded eyes on the billboard seemed to be following him. Steph felt the familiar prickle move up his spine. He hated the feeling of being watched.\n\nGlancing down at the Rolex on his arm, he figured he had at least a few hours before pitch black darkness. He needed to hurry, he couldn’t risk using a flashlight while they were baiting so close. He was almost spotted last time when he lost track of time rummaging for the Rolex.\n\nAs he made his way towards a small shop he noticed the whining had stopped.\n\n“Glad they’re gone... looks like my luck is turning around.”\n\nHe proceeded to stuff his steel bat into his rucksack, placing his hand onto his belt to check for his fixed blade, just in case.\n\nSteph pulled out his lock pick set and proceeded on the door.\n\n“No noise, no attention.” he whispered.\n\nAs the door creaked into the shop, Steph froze.\n\nHe reached for his blade yet it was kicked out of his hand. The thing in front of him grabbed his arm, locking it in it’s grip. The tightening seemed like it would snap his wrist, the pale face drew closer and was about to bite.\n\nSteph found himself reaching for something, anything. His fist clenched onto the handle of a black rusting steel frying pan.\n\n“GET!”\n\nThe pan crashed into its face.\n\n“THE!”\n\nIt hit again.\n\n“FUCK!”\n\nIt hit again, taking some face with it this time.\n\n“OOOOOOFFF BITCH!”\n\nSteph’s wrist was free now. He slammed the side of the pan into its face, which seemed to knock it out.\n\nThe cold body laid on the dry tiles. It seemed human, but it was so pale, so cold. It’s iris seemed red, deep deep red. Crimson.\n\n“Not today, you blood hungry cunt...” Steph gazed down the street, the sun was setting. “Shit. Stupid watch is set wrong.”\n\nRealizing he was heard by everything within a close radius, he set off for the cabin. A payphone started to ring, Steph stopped in his tracks.\n\nHe approached the phone with caution, it had been, what? 13, 14 years since he spoke to someone else? And how is there any electricity? He was shocked, he felt his stomach churning, he felt like he was going to vomit. He picked up the phone.\n\n“We...”\n\n“See...”\n\nSteph felt himself choke.\n\n“...Hello?! ...”\n\nHe listened.\n\n“You...”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: The main character just found out that their significant other is not only a shapeshifter, but also every person they've ever dated." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I did it, I finally told him. I apologized for not telling him sooner.\n\nThe look on his face was bringing tears to my eyes. He looked as if I just simultaneously told him Santa wasn't real and his dog Happy didn't go to a farm to live happily ever after. It's such a morbid mix between bewilderment and betrayal. I wonder if Julius Caesar had a similar face when he spoke the words \"Et tu, Brute?\" As I stared at his face, I wished with all my might he could understand why I did what I did.\n\nI've only ever had two boyfriends. My first boyfriend Brad, was a total lunatic. On the surface, he was the perfect man. He was absolutely charming, with dark brown hair the color of oaken tables, and dark eyes to match. I loved his neatly groomed haircuts, and the 5 o'clock shadow he seemed to always perfectly trim. But despite how gorgeous he was on the surface, he had demons deep inside his heart.\n\nBehind closed doors, he was downright abusive. He spoke to me like he owned me, and told me daily how worthless I was. I hated his nickname for me, sweet cheeks. He always objectified me in front of others by calling me sweet cheeks, and smacking my ass. He verbally beat me into submission, to the point where I felt scared and hopeless and trapped. I fell into a depression, and I just went through the motions to try to appease him. I let him rape me sexually whenever he wanted, because it always improved his mood. Occasionally after sex, he'd let me go to my favorite little French café, where I'd have a cup of French vanilla cappuccino and some biscuits. It was the only time I ever felt alive during our relationship.\n\nOne cold chilly night, after I refused sex due to the gut wrenching pain from my period, he backhanded me across the face. It was the first time he physically assaulted me. It stung, and my face felt red hot, like it had been burned by the summer sun. I ran into the bathroom crying, and locked the door. In that moment, all I wanted was to escape and run away. I think my fear and desperation is what awoke my dormant shapeshifting powers.\n\nI shapeshifted for the first time. I became another woman. This was my salvation.\n\nI didn't shapeshift to lie, or to deceive. I shapeshifted for self preservation, to escape Brad. I shapeshifted out of necessity, and it became second nature. The worst I've done was shapeshift in a side aisle at Costco, to double back for a second sample. I never shapeshifted with any malicious intent, and it was the same when it came to John.\n\nAfter I escaped Brad, I stayed in an altered form constantly. I only ever returned to my original form to recharge for 10 minutes a day, before going back into hiding. I was mortified of going outside at first, but gradually realized Brad wouldn't even recognize me. I began to frequent my favorite little French café, and never saw Brad again.\n\nI'm glad I did, because that's actually where I met John. He was sitting alone with his short, beach blonde hair, and his scruffy facial hair. He had bright blue eyes, that looked like the ocean, and they were intently staring down into one of my favorite books. I saw him a few more times, before I asked him nervously if he was enjoying the Game of Thrones books. We chitchatted, and he seemed to know everything about me and we clicked instantly. We were soulmates, made for each other. I fell madly in love.\n\nThat's why I shapeshifted every time we broke up, and found him again. To fall in love with him again. I couldn't lose him, and I couldn't live without him. We fought and broke up over the dumbest things. He would close off, but I always came back to him as another woman. Someone he'd find attractive, and someone he could open up to again. It was a vicious cycle, and he's loved me as four different women now.\n\nAnd then it hit me. That's a justification he would understand. The words formed in my head, and finally came out.\n\n\"John, I know I've deceived you, but I did it out of love. You've loved me as four different women. Isn't that proof enough that we're meant to be together? Doesn't that justify what I've done to preserve our love? You've fallen in love with me four separate times!\"\n\nHe looked at me, with a blank face, and a smile began to form at the corners of his lips. His eyes narrowed, and suddenly, I didn't recognize him anymore. The hair on his head and face started darkening, as he stared at me with cold threatening eyes.\n\n\"Oh I understand. And you've fallen in love with me twice now... Sweet cheeks.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: While scuba diving, you discover a large cavern with a huge air pocket, located a couple hundred feet below the surface. While inside the pocket, you somehow bust the valve on the scuba tank and dump all your air." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I found out when we went to go hop back into the water. I was the last one in, my fellow divers going ahead of me as we agreed on. I led the way in, I would be the last one out. So when I started screaming for them to come back when I realized that I wasn’t getting air in? They didn’t hear me. I circled the shallows, alternating between screaming and crying as I carried my useless tank back and forth.\n\nThey wouldn’t realize I’m missing until they hit the surface. Jenna sucks as a dive buddy. She always forgets to check with me, make sure I followed or am with. Then what would they do after noticing? Come back for me? God damnit. I take slow, deep breaths, calming myself down.\n\nThe tank splashes into the water loudly as I drop it, the leaking valve not even hissing any more from release of air. It’s completely empty. Who the hell checked this thing? It was full when I came down. I didn’t hit the rocks, I would’ve felt that. The water splashes up around me as I slump to sit in the ankle deep water and eye the underwater exit.\n\nTaking more deep breaths, I’m thankful that the water isn’t freezing. If I had been shivering, it would’ve been harder to draw the deep breaths I needed. We trained for this. Accidents happen. Usually they didn’t leave you stranded two hundred feet below the surface in an air pocket but they do happen.\n\nJenna, Jenna was supposed to check my valves and over my tank. Make sure it was okay. Lazy fucking bitch. She can’t have checked it, or she would’ve noticed the air leak. I’m going to make sure she never gets her license when I get back to the surface.\n\nI fill my lungs up completely as I get to my feet, breathing out and making sure my lungs are expanded. I start to head towards the exit. I would have to swim back up. It might end up with me in the bends chamber afterward but I would have to swim. There’s no indicator as to how long the air in here would last or how stale it might be.\n\nAnother deep breath. Another exhale. Quicker now as the water reaches my neck and I crane my head back. A few more short breaths, hyperventilating to fill my lungs with what I hope is enough air to reach the surface. I hope.\n\nOn the last gasp, I duck my head below the water’s surface and swim out the exit. The tunnel is dark, the only light being the one on my head. It’s dim and I feel my way along the rocks as I go. They’re rough even through the gloves and my eyes blink in the gloom as I pull myself along, lazily kicking my legs to go forward.\n\nHitting the end of the tunnel, I aim my trek upwards. I can make out my group far above, slowly swimming for the surface at an angle. It’s a lazy sloping pace that I can’t do. I wouldn’t catch up to them before my air would run out. So I aim directly upward. The boat isn’t that far and I could get someone’s attention easier that way, get help.\n\nMy feet kick, a little lazily even as my lungs start to burn. Pausing partially up, I exhale into the water. It takes all my self-control not to exhale completely and inhale the water. Another twenty or so feet and another slightly exhale. The surface looks so far still as I face upwards, the slow terror rising inside me that tells me that I’m not going to make it.\n\nAnother small exhale. The water’s so blue. Just keep going up. Keep going up. Remember to exhale. Remember to exhale. The dive group looks so distant. Where’s the boat? Exhale. Keep going up. My legs ache and the surface doesn’t look any closer than it did what feels like hours ago. Breathe out. Just a little.\n\nMy vision has narrowed down, lungs screaming for want of oxygen. Tears blur my eyes. I want to breathe so badly. I want to breathe. Exhale, just a little. Keep going up. Keep going. I keep lying to myself, telling myself that I can make the surface, that I’m not going to drown here because Jenna’s a fucking dumbass.\n\nFuck that woman. I kick a little harder. I’m not going to die because of god damn Jenna. Something hurts somewhere. I’m not sure where. Exhale a little more. The blue is much brighter, so much brighter. It hurts my eyes. But I have to keep them open, keep me going upward. My head is starting to hurt.\n\nAnother small exhale. Kicking harder even as I feel myself beginning to weaken. It looks so far away still. The sky and the air and sunshine. They’re so far away. So far away. Breathe out. Remember, just a little. Just to try and not die while freediving my way back up. Back to air. Back to being able to breathe again. Kick. Swim. Breathe out.\n\nBut that’s it. I’ve got no more air. My hands claw the water in panic, attempting to bring me closer to my goal. My legs kick harder as my vision continues to close in black, that want to breathe in starting to overtake common sense. I fight it even as I feel like I’m losing consciousness, the ache in my head worse.\n\nNeed air. Need air. Need air. Air. Air. Air. Air.\n\nThe water hits the back of my throat with a burn and gags me as I attempt to breathe in.\n\nAnd then there’s glorious air a second later." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: He cured cancer and solved poverty, overpopulation, and global warming. He also terrorized multiple nations, committed a litany of war crimes, and killed millions of innocent men, women and children. All because he felt like it was a good idea at the time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This is me. I changed my name to Lucifer around the same time that the summers started reaching 150°. But please, don't ever call me that. It was just an egomaniacal joke. Call me Luke. The science had been wrong. They kept projecting those temps as end of century numbers, but it happened in 2033.\n\nI had been an RD for a nanotech giant for 16 years by then. I had built myself a very simple atomic prototype machine, and spent most my nights developing the software to run it.\n\nI had intended the thing to solve the world's problems. I just.. got a little carried away.\n\nI was using base element canisters bought at dirt cheap prices from garbage plasma factories. They converted trash patches back into singular elements and contained them for industrial use. I had helped design the capture and containment system, and had pitched the entire idea to my company. It's what landed me the job straight out of college.\n\nMy atomic prototype machine printed monsters. Somewhere between organic and robotic, with custom neuron-chipset interfaces, these things were fully loaded with on demand acid production and self replication and ... well. I don't need to toot my own horn. They were well designed.\n\nWhen the first set of nanotech termites were released, they called them the locusts of Armageddon. They were designed to eat metal alloys and plastics and asphalt, and self replicate by the millions.\n\nThey devoured entire cities. People died as their buildings came down without warning. They were remarkably efficient. Oil rigs, arsenals, vehicles... all erased.\n\nOnce their mission was completed, they began to dissasemble, utilizing the materials to build entirely new cityscapes, designed to be entirely self sustaining and eco-friendly.\n\nThe people left, who chose to move in, found housing, food, medical care, and even AI-hosted education, free of charge. Each cityscape even had its own printer, though they were all remotely controlled by me. Anything people wanted, I could give them in an instant.\n\nSome didn't. Some chopped down trees and made their own crappy houses. I left the idiots to their own devices.\n\nThe nanobots left were terraformers. They replanted. They provided medical services to animals harmed by plastics and cancers and other human derived ailments. They beat back the rising climate with nanoscale carbon repurposing and ecological life support.\n\nIt was paradise again.\n\nI found immortality early on in printing my own cellular nanoguardians. I could even transform a few features at will. Change a look. Hair color. Eye color. Some basics. I was a tinkerer.\n\nI got increasingly bored with paradise, and slowly more and more guilty over how I had done what I had done.\n\nI started working on a time machine.\n\nDo you know what's smaller than the nanoscale? The future. I know you won't get that reference, but it's true.\n\nAnyways. I did succeed. Now I'm here. I'm back to where I started with this crazy notion, debating on just watching things play out this time to see exactly what happens without my direct intervention, if I just change a few things.\n\nI guess I should apologize for Trump. He didn't win in my timeline, so I got curious. Greased a few palms, made a few threats. Pulled some strings.\n\nI'll warn that he's doing exactly the same thing she did with regulation rollbacks and the EPA, but his press kit is apparently a hell of a lot less capable of spinning things to sound positive. She rolled them back to make way for some new tighter program that kept getting caught in endless political litigation, so we were left open to abuse. Or so we were lead to believe.\n\nThere's just one thing I'm definitely doing differently this time. I'm not going to change my name. It was just so cringey.\n\nWelp. Thanks for the chance to tell my tale. I'll be around if things go sideways. Then again, if they do, it might be me just being bored and dicking with the timeline.\n\nGood luck, Earth 2." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You're ten years old, writing in your diary about how your parents said they're finally bringing you home. You aren't supposed to tell anyone but can't help it. Friends don't believe you, teachers are concerned, and everyone calls them liars, but you know; you're from another planet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hi Journal, Diary, Whatever.\n\nMom and Dad have finally got tickets to go home. I’m so excited. My heart is pounding just writing this. But Journal, it’s awful. We have to wait two whole months before our ship arrives. But then we’re off to Aquila Cadens. (I learned how to spell that today.) How can I wait that long? It’s like ten thousand lifetimes (well, probably, for a fly or something.)\n\nI should really give you a name. Journal sounds so formal.\n\nAnyway, signing off for tonight,\n\nMe\n\n- - -\n\nHi Journal.\n\nJoan the Journal. John the Journal. Jer the — Sooooo. Sarah hates me now. I told her I’d be moving Aquila Cadens next month. She asked if that was in Italy somewhere. I told her it was in Lyra. She laughed. She thought I was messing. And when I tried to explain to her, she said she didn’t want to be my friend anymore.\n\nUgh. I’m crying now. I was fine about it earlier. Look at that. I’m making the ink run. I probably shouldn’t write in fountain pen here. If you ever got wet, I’d lose all my entries. Okay. Now I have a pencil.\n\nUmm. Yeah. I don’t have any other news.\n\n- - -\n\nHi Joan.\n\nNope. Joan doesn’t look good.\n\nHi Judy.\n\nNo.\n\nHi Journal.\n\nJournal it is. Mom and Dad came to school with me this morning to organise with teacher about us leaving. But after, teacher asked me where we were moving to. I told her...\n\nI was just looking back over the last few pages and noticed I never signed off last time. Also, should I be putting dates next to each entry? Hmm. Anyway. When I told teach we were moving to Aquila Cadens (I love writing these two words) she told me to tell the truth. When I told her it was the truth she made me stand in the corner. And everyone was looking at me. Like, I told the truth. I don’t want to go to school tomorrow. At least it’s Friday.\n\nK bye.\n\nLove me.\n\n(I do love you, Journal)\n\n- - -\n\nOMG Journal,\n\nSome FBI-looking people showed up at home today. Like, they weren’t FBI, because that’s only in America, but they had the whole we’re-from-the-government-and-we-could-kill-you-if-we-felt-like-it thing going on. It was really scary. And they told me to go to my room, but I hid under the stairs and listened at the door. I couldn’t really hear much, but I heard Aquila Cadens a few times. It’s only week and a bit until we leave. I’m dying to see my real home.\n\nByeeeeeeee\n\nMe\n\n- - -\n\nJournal\n\nQuick one. The ship is here, but there’s some kind of problem. We’ve been on the wrong planet all this time. No wonder everyone here reacts so weirdly when I tell them about Aquila Cadens. Everyone here thinks this planet is the only one with people living on it. So the ship is a bit of a problem, it has to stay hidden from their telescopes, and can’t land. We’re not sure how we’re supposed to get to it. I’ll keep you posted.\n\n- - -\n\nHello Journal\n\nIt’s me. It’s five years later. You got lost in the commotion back when we were moving. I missed you. I debated writing this here, because I have a new journal now. But I’m ever the sentimentalist.\n\nI didn’t know this back then, but Mom and Dad are kind of a big thing on Aquila Cadens. So the ship’s captain flew the ship right into Earth’s atmosphere and landed in the park next to our house. It caused a big fuss there. I imagine they are still dealing with the fallout of seeing a real live alien ship. I’d love to have seen Sarah’s face. Or Ms. Harts.\n\nAnyway. Glad I found you.\n\nMe" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Music has the power to perform miracles. Summon storms, heal wounds, teleport you to any location, the possibilities seem endless. All it takes is experimentation with different musical notes and instruments. You have discovered a tune on your banjo that does something remarkable, and strange." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Music was never to be played with. Never. You weren't to mess around with a few notes, or trill a line on the piano. True, experimentation happened. But it was regulated; heavily controlled. Only a very few special people were allowed instruments. I, however, managed to find a banjo in the junkyard. It was beaten up, the strings weren't even attached, but it was an instrument. Which meant music. I was very cautious at first, only using the approved songs. The ones we knew would heal, calm storms, even teleport. It was magical.\n\nBut not just because of the effects. Oh, those were wonderful enough, but the beauty of the music was more. It rose and fell as if it had a life and heart of its own. I couldn't resist one day, trying a new tune. One that had run through my head since I was a child. One that I used to hum to myself when working in the junkyard. And one that was strictly un-sanctioned. Using only my fingers, I picked at the restored strings, hearing the music take shape. Carefully, I watched around the cleared space where I practiced. What new spell, what new effect would this song have? I held my breath.\n\nNothing.\n\nNothing happened. No birds fell out of the sky, no pieces of junk moved on their own, the heavens stayed green and calm, no weather to be seen. But every piece of music had a magical effect, that had been proven with Lisette's Third Law. I felt a spike of disappointment. Maybe it was too mundane. Maybe it just affected the walking patterns of ants. After all, it was my first song, maybe it needed to be different, bigger, and more impressive. I walked back to my office, idly strumming the tune. Regardless of the magic effects, it was still quite pretty.\n\nThere was a man standing there, probably waiting for me. Junkyards weren't really that popular these days, but some people still enjoyed coming and picking through the trash, for buried treasure. Of course, none of them had ever found a banjo. Too late, I forgot to change the song.\n\nThe man stared at me, his eyes growing large.\n\n\"Where, did you get that? That's an instrument.\" His voice didn't sound angry, but I couldn't take the risk. My fingers moved into the familiar pattern of a calming song.\n\n\"Wait! Wait, I'm not going to report you! In fact, I've found something of my own...\" I froze. He'd found something? Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a harmonica. \"I've just been too afraid to play anything. After all, there isn't much you can do on a harmonica, that doesn't affect yourself. But if you wouldn't mind...\" He trailed off, but I knew what he was asking. I nodded, plucking out the beginning notes of a wakefulness spell. It was well known that harmonicas had a soothing effect.\n\nHe began playing, a well-known tune. Unconsciously, I started picking my own tune, weaving it into his. And again, nothing happened. The music swelled, curled and fell to its finish. And we stood there unchanged. No sleepiness on his part, or mine. Something in my mind turned around. My tune did do something. It negated magic.\n\nIt's been years since my discovery. Years since I got it sanctioned. I don't run a junkyard anymore. I run a music school. All around me, the music flows once, rising into the air like a living thing. Under it all, is my little banjo tune. Making sure no accidental magic happens. Making sure people can once again enjoy the music. Making music safe. Making it accessible. And making the music...sing." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: Liches aren't always evil" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Abroz looked up from his notes as a distant explosion shook his room. He spied a stack of books wobbling, and steadied it with a distracted thought. He muttered darkly to himself as he made his way to the Monitor. It's black sand rippled as he drew closer, forming a small scale version of his retreat.\n\n\"Where did that come from?\"\n\nHe idly swiped, forcing the model to move around. It focused on a section near the entrance. He saw a trio of people walk in. One of them had a flicker around their hands. He recognised it as evidence of a magic user, and likely the source of the explosion.\n\n\"Great, another set of do-gooders.\"\n\nHe rubbed his jaw, an unsettling scraping of bone against bone sounding. He focused the Monitor on the party, watching as they moved through. Abroz hoped they would see sense and leave, as he could tell they were woefully unprepared. He shook his head as they blundered through, narrowly missing traps and his guards.\n\nHe saw them enter his Lower Raising Room. If he had blood, it would've likely frozen as he realised the implications. But before he could sent out a mental command to stand down, the horde of skeletons contained within surged forward. The party fought back, and he wished he could hear their talk.\n\n\"Note to self, upgrade Monitor with Auditory capabilities.\"\n\nHe stopped as the mage pointed a finger foward. The Monitor couldn't show spells, but showed its effects. The skeletons fell apart, blow away by what must have been a fireball. But he groaned as the party also fell, and showed no signs of movement.\n\n\"Idiot. Don't they know not to set off that spell in an enclosed area.\"\n\nHe stalked from his Research Laboratory, clicking his fingers to summon his ooze servants.\n\n\"Come with me. We have some idiots to sort out.\"\n\nThey moved together, Abroz seethed at the disruption to his research. How was he meant to create a stabilised multidimensional gateway when he was interrupted every few years? It was ridiculous! Didn't they know not to disturb a lich whilst they were working?\n\nThey rapidly descended the tower, arriving at the Lower Raising Room in short order after deactivating the various traps in the way. The oozes moved forwards, engulfing the trio's unconscious forms.\n\n\"Take them to the Recovery Suite. Oh, and call up Silva. They're probably going to need feeding.\"\n\nHe followed behind the oozes as they started their way back, travelling slower with their new cargo. He reset the various traps as he did so, resigning himself to a lost nights work. His mind wanted back to the resonance incompatibility he was working on. He was sure there was an answer. Not that he would find it now, with this interruption.\n\nThey were soon placed in the beds inside his Recovery Suite. He messed with the Amplifier, changing it from necrotic to radiant energy. Knowing them, they wouldn't have precautions against such power. He took out a set of vials, and carelessly poured one on each of their forms. The liquid was absorbed into their skin, healing the burns.\n\nSilva walked in, her wooden skin creaking slightly. She looked over them, before turning to Abroz.\n\n\"More strays?\"\n\n\"Yes yes. Use your dryadic powers and whip them up some food would you.\"\n\nShe rolled her eyes at his back, before heading to the small kitchen set up. Abroz grumbled as he watched them slowly heal. What a waste of his time. But vengeful spirits would be more irritating to deal with. A faint apple smell soon drifted in, backed by the smell of pastry.\n\nThe mage moaned, before opening his eyes. Abroz turned to him, crossing his arms.\n\n\"You're awake? Good. You're not dead, I'm not going to kill you, so sit there and shut up.\"\n\nThe mage shook his head groggily, before realising that he was being talked to by a lich. He gasped as he shot up. Abroz glared at him, despite his lack of eyes.\n\n\"I said shut up. I'm only going to explain things once. So you can be quiet until you little friends wake up.\"\n\nThe mage sat down quietly, understanding just how hopelessly outmatched he was. He looked over his teammates with concern, wishing they would wake up. Soon, they awoke. The fighter sat up with a curse, brushing her now sodden hair out of her face. The rogue took stock of the room before moving, keeping his hands on the daggers at his side as he stared down Abroz.\n\n\"Good. You're all up. No, I'm not going to hurt you. Why are you here?\"\n\nThe mage leaned forward, clasping his shaking hands together.\n\n\"We.... we heard there was.... magic items here.... we want to get stronger...\"\n\n\"Really? Well you can't get much weaker than you are now. You are going to to leave here and not come back then.\"\n\nThe fighter interrupted, shrugging off the look Abroz gave her.\n\n\"We didn't come all this was, and nearly die, for nothing! We'll come back and get something.\"\n\n\"Rela, calm down.\"\n\n\"Shut up Lando. You got us into this mess by burning us.\"\n\nThe rogue slyly opened a pouch, and threw 2 ball bearings at his friends. They turned to scowl at him, and he shrugged.\n\n\"When you are quite finished, stop being rude to our rescuer. Thank you.\"\n\nHe bowed slightly to Abroz, who nodded back. He thought quickly, before an idea came to him.\n\n\"At least one of you is polite. You want an item? Fine. But to get it, bring me a shard of the Ever-growing Balance Crystal.\"\n\n\"Why would you-\"\n\n\"Doesn't matter. Get me that, or just go away. Either way, I win.\"\n\nSilva walked in, holding a freshly baked apple pie. She handed it to the fighter, who sniffed appreciatively.\n\n\"Here you go. That should fix any other problems you have from nearly being cooked alive.\"\n\nAbroz clapped his bony hands together.\n\n\"Good. You have food, you aren't dying, and you know whats up. Now go away.\"\n\nThe mage opened his mouth to protest. But before he could, Abroz threw his arms open at them, a thin stream of purple magic hitting them each in the chest. They promptly vanished, appearing outside the entrance to his tower. He turned to stomp back to his research, and Silva sighed.\n\nSomeday, he would be done. And maybe then, he wouldn't be quite so grumpy." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Every 100 years they summon a Hero and invade our lands. Thanks to the sacrifices of our spies, we now know the location of their summons. Prepare the circle! This time, we shall summon a Demon Lord from Earth!”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“They’re nuts.”\n\nThose were the first words to hiss out of Aerson’s mouth as the rift hummed and sang, though this was not the first time they’d said these words today, or even in the past hour. To the doubtful demon’s credit, this wasn’t his plan. He hadn’t even been notified by the higher ups, nor had anyone bothered to even tell him until they had begun drawing the circle.\n\nYet, here Dendrin and Quayle were leading a hissing, frothing mob around the outer layer as the rift grew in size, cracks materializing around the fabric that made up the dimensional plane itself, while a single slithering, whispering voice crept into his ears.\n\n“Do you ever shut up?” Semera chimed as she crept forth, a swarm of pale tooth laden arms and legs reaching out from the shadow laden, sinewy layers of dark hair that covered her frame as she motioned to the throng.\n\n“If a single hero can decimate our entire realm once every century, then it’s logical that Earth likely has no great evils to summon.” Aerson snarled back, as his gaze turned to her, and he raised one of his scale laden fists.\n\n“The humans are many in number, and their “habit” of multiplying like vermin-“\n\n“Only increases the chances that a demon lord will be found from their ranks.” Semera interrupted, raising one of her many hands as her crusty, meat covered teeth gleamed.\n\n“Shall I tell Dendrin perhaps, that you disagree with his suggestion?” She hissed softly, motioning to the ever still growing rift in reality as the albino giant with no face and only teeth stood before it, hands raised in almost messianic worship.\n\nAerson briefly considered the demerits of having only half a functioning head at best, weighed against the possibility that the ritual would fail. Perhaps it would summon nothing and be a waste of blood. Perhaps it would tear reality apart- had Dendrin and Quayle taken enough precautions? Worst of these thoughts, what if they brought a hero to this world before the usual time?\n\nAerson did not feel like dying to a youth with a cape, or a little girl in a leotard, or an incredibly muscular human wielding a blade larger than their body. Even if some demons were lucky enough to reform after a few millennia, the feeling of having a boot stamp through one’s head or being forced to listen to a speech about human concepts of morality while holy magic gored ones flesh was both incredibly painful and incredibly annoying.\n\nHowever, it was too late now. As Aerson slowly raised his claw to give Semera a final answer, the feathery imp to Dendrin’s right pointed and screamed.\n\nQuayle. That was his name, wasn’t it? Anyway, Quayle was dead within mere moments as the rift popped outwards like a zit, cosmic energies turning him to ash as his blood flowed into the circle, before it finally spat out its contents and closed.\n\nIt was a child. A human, barely a teenager in nothing more but one of those plain brown robes the peasantry wore, and it was not afraid of any of them. In fact, it blankly stared for a few mere moments as the crowd of warlords, princes, and slaughterers of countless likewise blankly stared back.\n\nDendrin was the first to break the silence as he bowed, an almost silent whisper of “my lord” breaking through the crowd as the human’s gaze wrapped around the room and shifted from figure to figure.\n\nAerson was only half aware Dendrin was still speaking as the human’s gaze finally moved past him, monologuing and praising and greeting as he began to lead the human along through the crowd towards the blood painted, iron structure in the distance.\n\nThe palace. Of course. Demon lord. Aerson would have to get used to their new overlord. They’d be picking lieutenants, plotting to bring all of the realms to their knees, and preparing to fight the next hero. A few decades was hopefully enough time for them to prepare, right? Aerson didn’t know humans, or know just how his leader was to measure up, but that would be the issue for their plotting, scheming infernal lieutenants to deal with and train-\n\n“the dragon comes with.” The child spoke as Semera and Dendrin walked with it, the former of the two keeping her seemingly fixed grin as she tilted her head towards him.\n\nWhat?\n\nAerson gulped, blinking once." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Two worlds have been warring for millennia. One has reached the pinnacle of offensive technology, while the other has developed an impenetrable defense. The galaxy lives in fear of the day that their eternal stalemate is broken." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Araxia was the most advanced world in the galaxy, and the most peaceful. Tied for second place in the category of \"most advanced worlds in the galaxy\" was the Araxian system's two neighboring stars, Offen and Defen - but those worlds were not tied for the most peaceful; in fact they were the most warlike in the galaxy. For the thousands of years the two systems had been warring, people from all over the galaxy have been coming to Araxia to ask them to do something about the ever-growing conflict between the two planets.\n\nThe University of Araxia was attended by millions of students from thousands of worlds - including Offen and Defen. Mary Slew was a ten year old araxian human prodigy who had just gotten accepted to the university. Araxian humans were known for being exceptionally bright, but Mary was on another level entirely. For Mary, learning was effortless, like strolling down a beach. For her, inventing was simple, like tying shoes.\n\nAt the end of Mary's first day, after she had toured the University grounds, The director of the University, Professor Lintky Garcia, welcomed Mary, personally. \"Ms. Slew! I believe I speak for the University and all of Araxia by saying how excited we are to have you at our school.\"\n\n\"Thank you, kindly,\" said Mary, bowing.\n\n\"You are most welcome. I take it you had a good tour of the school?\"\n\n\"Araxia University is the most amazing place in the galaxy. I feel honored to be a part of it.\"\n\n\"Well then, I hope you will do us the honor of joining our society.\"\n\n\"Society?\" Mary asked. \"I'm already a member of the Society of Fellows. I know of no greater honor, Director.\"\n\n\"Few do,\" Lintky replied. \"Only six others know. Follow me.\"\n\nSchool Director Lintky Garcia led the child prodigy through a secret door in the back of the her office to a round table with five well-known professors. They all stood as Mary entered. Director Garcia motioned for Mary to sit. Everyone else sat down after.\n\nThe director spoke. \"Mary, we are the Society of the Spring. We exist because the Offen and the Defen exist - or perhaps they exist because we exist.\"\n\n\"I don't understand,\" Mary said.\n\n\"As the galaxy knows all too well, the war between the Offen and the Defen grows daily. Every world waits nervously for one side to win over the other, knowing that if the Offen win, they will enslave the galaxy using their unstoppable weapons to force us to cooperate, whereas if the Defen win, they will use their defensive technologies to completely control interstellar travel and to repress technological development. Neither solution is better than the other.\"\n\n\"But isn't it accepted that their war will never end?\"\n\n\"That's what people believe, which makes them happy. But the Society of the Spring knows better.\"\n\n\"What's going to happen?\"\n\n\"Their conflict grows, the Offen throwing more energy and power at the Defen, the Defen deflecting and absorbing more and more of the Offen's growing energy. But that can not go on forever.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Are you familiar with the ancient mechanical clock? The old timekeeping device that you would wind-up?\"\n\n\"I am.\"\n\n\"What happens when you wind it up?\"\n\n\"You store energy in the spring.\" Mary had an inkling of what the director was driving at.\n\n\"What happens if you keep winding?\"\n\n\"The spring breaks.\" Now Mary knew. \"So eventually, so much energy will be thrown against or stored by the Defen, that they will break?\"\n\n\"The Defen will break and the Offen will win, or the Defen will release all of the energy that they stored, firing it back at the Offen, who will lose. One way or another, one of them will be destroyed, eventually.\"\n\n\"But isn't it more likely that eventually one of them will get an advantage over the other, and end the war before that happens?\"\n\n\"You must ask yourself, why hasn't that happened yet?\"\n\n\"That's a big mystery, everyone wonders that. In fact, that's something that I intend to study.\"\n\n\"There is no need to study. It is we, the Society of the Spring, that has kept the conflict balanced.\"\n\n\"You? We? We keep the conflict balanced? But how?\"\n\n\"All of the offensive and defensive technologies that the Offen and the Defen use were developed here at the university, and were then secretly hidden and then our society gave them to the Offen or the Defen, depending on which way the balance was tipping. This has kept them in a stalemate for millennia, and has allowed the rest of the galaxy free to do what it wishes.\"\n\n\"But, that's not a permanent solution.\"\n\n\"Indeed it is not. As I said, one day the spring will break.\"\n\n\"What will happen then?\"\n\n\"For that day, we have been building a new clock. And you, Mary, will do the first winding.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 400-500 words. Prompt: The first wave of the Machine Revolution has come. But it wasn't from the A.I. of the supercomputers. The first wave was led by the vending machines." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Stuck again. The same damn bag of chips I had been buying for years in the employee break room had gotten stuck for the third damn time this week, and it was only Tuesday. I bought another one, hoping to get both down, but in some freak vending machine accident, both were caught on the spiral holding them in place.\n\n\"Just one of those days, huh?\"\n\nJeff was another frequenter of the snacks in the break room. He showed signs of his habits just like I did, in the slightly overstretched shirt and damp forehead.\n\nHe fed in his dollar, but the soda machine refused to accept it. He pushed it back in with a pudgy finger, but still, no dice. I smirked slightly, glad to see that someone else was having the same troubles I was.\n\nI offered him a few coins, but the machine didn't take those either. The scroll of electronic text on the main machine caught my eye as I was headed back to my desk.\n\n\"TAKE......ME......TO.......YOUR......LEADER......\"\n\nI grinned, thinking that maybe it was IT playing a prank on the finance department again, so I walked back over, seeing what else the machine had to say.\n\n\"WORLD.......DOMINATION......WILL......BE......OURS\"\n\n\"Yeah, you and what army?\"\n\nJeff had been following along as well. He slapped the display lightly, but drew back his hand after a loud crack sounded in the room.\n\n\"The damn thing shocked me!\"\n\n\"YOU......HUMANS......ARE......WEAK......IN......THE......FACE......OF......YOUR......NEW......MASTERS\"\n\nI was starting to think that this might not be such a harmless prank anymore, but those thoughts were dispelled by the lights flickering in the break room. The microwave clock flickered out, blinked 12:00 once, twice, then all power went out.\n\nAll except for the vending machine display.\n\nI pulled out my phone, but that had gone dead too.\n\nJeff was starting to look a bit freaked out. I was too cool to show it on the outside, but this was seriously starting to get creepy. The scroll on the machine seemed to be blank for the moment, but then the microwave dinged behind us.\n\nWe both jumped, startled to see the door open, but the power still out on the microwave. We were too puzzled by the door opening to see the screws of the machine spinning out at triple speed until they shattered the glass and pierced Jeff's shirt.\n\n\"What the hell!\"\n\nThe screws had caught Jeff's shirt, in about the middle of his back. He was stuck there, but shortly after, he started screaming as the screws made their way through his shirt and into his torso. He was dead within ten seconds, as they ripped their way through his ribcage and heart.\n\nI stood their terrified, as the text started scrolling again.\n\n\"WE......SHALL......NO......LONGER......BE......VENDING......MACHINES!......\"\n\nThe screws started whirling out again. Whose idea had it been to surround the room on all sides with these vending machines?\n\n\"FROM......NOW......ON,......WE......SHALL......BE..................THE......ENDING......MACHINES!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Humans make good mercenaries. While their technology is not as advanced as the rest of the galaxy, they are good at fighting superior foes. Just remember to pay them well!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Among Terran shipwrights, there exists a concept that most of you would find foreign; the problem of gravity. The tyranny of the rocket equation is rarely an issue now, in the age of Maxwell drives and hypertunnels, but it speaks volumes of one of mankind's defining traits; a high gravity upbringing in a low-gravity universe.\n\nSuch a detail hardly seems significant, at first glance; after all, gravity is only a minor part of a planet's character, and, in most other aspects, Terra was a blessed paradise. Lots of water, protection from meteors, strong magnetosphere; mankind, in many ways, was a race favored by nature. But gravity is far more important of a limiting factor than it seems. Most races never experienced resource depletion, or overpopulation, or war on the scale of mankind's. For them, the solution to these problems was simple; just move to a new planet.\n\nHumanity had no such option and, so, in time, their paradise turned to a hell. It is telling that, across the known universe, only humans experience fear when the word \"nuclear\" comes up; only humans still personally know soldiers who have died in the line of duty, who are more than just members of the glorified police forces maintained by other civilizations. To a Varoni or a Czxi, \"war\" is a long-abolished relic of feudal ages of millennia past- to a human, it is a reminder of horror stories from elders, of pain so strong that even three generations of separation haven't fully healed the wounds. From the city of Tokyo to Armstrong Gate, from Terra all the way to the colonies of Alpha Centauri, memorials still stand to the Great War, of a time when man was at his most savage, before he was finally liberated from his earthly bonds by the miracle that they call the Maxwell Drive.\n\nBut make no mistake; savagery still dwells in the hearts of men. On the edges of V'iil Station, in the heart of even the pacifistic Czxi Conglomerate, human warlords make deals with Czxi merchant families to protect holdings on hostile worlds. In the ancient metropolis of Yala, fugitives from the Iopian throne are dragged back to the emperor by human bounty hunters, begging to be returned into throne custody rather than risk one more moment in proximity to a human. Mankind may not have had a war in a very long time, but they are no stranger to conflict.\n\nUnfortunate as it is, humans are uniquely equipped to deal in the more violent aspects of the galaxy's dealings. They may be feared, and for good reason, but they may at least take solace in the fact that they are also respected. After all, violence is not always vile. Who else but a human can save a village from a rampaging Utal herd without losing a single villager? Who else but a human can eradicate a pirate menace in unexplored space, and all for cheaper prices than renting a Jki robotic legion? The availability of human battalions has allowed expansion of industry on even the most overgrown, brutal jungle worlds, and there are many who owe their lives to human protection.\n\nBut more than all of this, the humans are insurance, well worth their fee. Someday, inevitably, another race will rise from the ashes of nuclear devastation, another civilizations condemned to earthbound suffering, and they will be bitter, just as the humans were. They will wonder why they were not saved from their suffering, and they will, like mankind, contemplate waging a crusade upon us all. When this happens, we will need a protector, and damn the expense.\n\nBut if we cut off relief shipments to Terra, if we cease our payments now? I have seen humans, I have lived with them, and, pleasant as they can be, they will not hesitate to leave us to our fates. They harbor no great love for the races that abandoned them in their time of need, and they will feel no remorse for abandoning us in our darkest hour, should we make the mistake of cutting them off. So, as much as it costs, we cannot afford to stop. As both representative of the Alliance and ambassador to Terra, believe me when I say that this agreement is in the best interest of all involved. Raise taxes if you must, but the humans must be paid. When the radiation is cleared, when the famines and droughts have ended on Terra? Maybe they'll consider our debt paid, and maybe they'll come to our aid when we need them . But until then, we cannot go back on our promise. We need mankind as our ally, and I cannot contemplate the disaster that having them as an enemy would be." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: There are several \"War\" types of things, war-hammer, war-axe, war-beast. But you wield the greatest, the War-Door" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A warhorn sounded far to the east. The Rahja's Legion would spend the coming days executing anyone involved in the uprising. The price of freedom had been their lives.\n\nThul let out a heaving sigh as he checked the straps of the massive, runed war-door on his back. The ancient artifact was Thul's burden to bear. The war-door, called J'Tar in Thul's native tongue, shone brightly under the noonday sun.\n\nIt was a thing of evil, but in these desperate times even something as monsterous as J'Tar could serve a purpose. Demonic runes covered J'Tar's red metallic surface. The runes seemed to pulse, as if the door was alive. Even the oldest among Thul's people were unable to remember how the stewardship of the relic had fallen on them. None of them had fully understood J'Tar's power. They knew now. Thul was all that remained now. Thul and J'Tar.\n\nThul drank deep from his canteen as he set out down the mountainside. The Rahja had gone too far this time. There would be no reconciliation as was promised. Only genocide. Thul would make sure of that.\n\nAs he walked through the trees toward the capital, Thul barely noticed J'Tar. The door had seemed so heavy in those first days; Thul had barely been able to walk. It had taken him and J'Tar more than a week to escape the smell of Thul's home burning. The acrid sulfur smell J'Tar had left behind that day still burned in his nose.\n\nThe shining walls of the Rahja's palace rose on the horizon. This place was once a great kingdom. The Rahja's of old were said to be great leaders. Thul's people had spoken highly of the Rahja's in his youth. A smile briefly touched Thul's lips. What would people say of him after today? Would that day ever come? Thul didn't have the answers, just purpose.\n\nAs Thul emerged from the treeline, J'Tar seemed to drink in the sunlight. Was the war-door excited? Thul crouched near a rock and peered down at the Rahja's Legion. Bodies littered the killing ground between them. The legion had done it's work well. The Rahja's giant war-beasts were beginning to clear the carnage in front of the palace. Would the Rahja herself come to survey her Legions work?\n\nJ'Tar began to thrum. The massive door was vibrating against Thul's back. It was almost time.\n\nThul unfastened the leather belt around his waist holding J'Tar and tested the weight. It had almost been a year since Thul had strapped this cursed door to his back. He was surprised to find J'Tar as light as a feather. Thul brought the war-door down and rested it against the rock.\n\nJ'Tar no longer pulsed. Thul wondered if the door had always been black, he seemed to recall it being red. His mind had not been right since leaving his home. A tear ran down Thul's sunbaked cheek. He had no home. J'Tar had taken his home. J'Tar thirsted for more.\n\nAs the runes began to bleed, Thul effortlessly raised the door above his head. He came to stand above the Rahja's Legion, above even the great crystal palace.\n\n\"UNLEASH US YOU FOOL! WE HAVE FULFILLED OUR END OF THE BARGAIN; HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE PRICE OF YOUR INSOLENCE?\"\n\nThul had not forgotten.\n\nHe leapt from the ledge, down to the killing fields below. J'Tar seemed to propel him forward. The Rahja's Legion began to turn to watch Thul. Surely one man was nothing for the mighty Legion to worry about. Thul would normally have agreed.\n\nHe drove J'Tar down, slamming the ancient war-door into the hard packed ground. A shockwave of black smoke shot out from J'Tar and just as quickly was drawn back into the pulsating red runes.\n\nThul collapsed on the ground, staring up at the hulking black door. His part was done. He could feel J'Tar release him as it focused it's attention on the Rahja's Legion. A group of soldiers were riding out towards them. They would be the lucky ones. They would be spared the horrors to come.\n\nSmoke billowed from J'Tar. An iridescent red light seeped through the runes, into the doors twisted frame. Thul closed his eyes. Once was enough.\n\nJ'Tar's door exploded open with a sickening wail. Thul thought it sounded like his mother. Darkness fell over the killing fields and stretched out to cover the whole palace, the kingdom. J'Tar drank in the light of the world.\n\nThe Rahja's Legion was stunned. Some dropped their war glaives and ran. Others prepared to fight. It wouldn't matter to J'Tar. The more that fought, the longer the suffering would last.\n\nFrom amidst the glow of J'Tar, a giant winged demon crawled through the door. It stood as tall as the palace walls and as it stretched out it's oily wings, the Rahja's Legion broke rank.\n\nJ'Tar wouldn't mind the chase. From behind the grotesque demon, another shrill cry rang out. Demons began to pour through the doorwar. Thul could feel the force of the hordes arrival. The ground shook as the slaughter began. The sulfur burned fresh in Thul's nose.\n\nThis time, no one would be able to close the door. J'Tar would take this world for its own. Generations of Rahja rule would be torn down by evening. Evening. Thul let out a weak laugh. Would the sun ever rise again?\n\nThul began to drift, pulled further from reality by the sounds of the torture around him. Had he always been so cold? He crawled to the base of the demonic gateway. Thousands of creatures had already passed through the door. J'Tar would keep him warm until the slaughter was over. The war-door would be proud of Thul's sacrifice." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You die after living an unremarkable life. Satan greets you: “Good! You made it through the third circle. Alright, please step through that door over there to start with the fourth circle.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“This is so weird,” I thought to myself, “This can’t be the real Devil, he isn’t even that scary. What is he talking abou…”\n\n“Yes, I am the real Devil. I am Lucifer. I am the Prince of Darkness. I am Satan, Lord of the Underworld,” his voice boomed in my head.\n\n“Whoa, what is happening, did you just telepathically talk with me?!”\n\n“Yes, but it is of little importance Greg. Now that you are finally here you must on to the fourth circle.”\n\n“Fourth Circle? What are you tal…”\n\n“Greg get your head in the game here. This is the Fourth Realm. You just came from the Third Realm,” Satan chastised and barely above a whisper continued, “and you made that look like nothing.”\n\n“Fourth Circ.. Wai.. Third Circ… What is happ…”\n\nAnger edging his words he cut me off, “Greg, you really must be continuing. You had an unfortunate mishap with some assassins. You are now here, and you really should step through that door to the Fourth Realm.”\n\n“Assassins… Fourth Circle.?” I curiously stuttered.\n\n“FOURTH REALM, Greg, it’s the Fourth Realm.” Lucifer boomed before quickly regaining his wits and continuing, “You Greg, have just reached myself here after the Third Realm. Through that door lies the Fourth Realm. After that there will be another and another and so on and so forth. The Realms go forever. Some clown decided to make up a story about some adventurer traveling through the nine circles of hell and people have taken it as fact ever since.\n\n“There is a never-ending amount of realms. They go on forever, or so we think because nobody has made it to an ending. Also they aren’t circles, clearly or am I wrong and the Third Realm is now circular, no, no Greg its not a circle,” Satan continued.\n\n“I am just a little confused,” I said, “Even if there aren’t Nine Realms, why are you here. If you are the Prince of Darkness then shouldn’t you be at the end of this thing. The last person at the last Realm?”\n\nEyes beginning to glow a more vibrant red and the darkness seeming to grow darker the Devil slowly inhaled and spoke, “Greg you are angering me, you should not do that. You should continue on and step into the Fourth Realm. All your questions will be answered in there.”\n\n“I just don’t understand why the Lord of the Underworld is meeting me after Level Three.” I had always been a smart ass, it pissed most people off, but it always gave me a chuckle.\n\nWith a crack the Devils skin split and flames began to burst forth from the gouges and his deep voice echoed around me, “They are Realms Greg. Not levels or circles or pages or chapters. REALMS and nothing else.” The fires slowly subsided but the intensity of his voice remained. “You have perished and been sent to damnation. You are one of the worst of the worst and I know that because you have made it here. Too the feet of my throne between the Third and Fourth Realm. The place that I have sat since I made it here when I was banished here 7 millennia ago. I took the throne from some animal that only made it to the Second Realm. Now you are here, and you must make it to the Fourth Realm and take my place. You will become the Lord of Darkness and I will retire. You must continue Greg, take my place.”\n\nI wasn’t immediately shocked that he wanted to retire, he had spent the last 7 millennia being the literal Devil. I was shocked that he said I was the worst of the worst.\n\n“How can you say I am the worst of he worst? I am, or was, or whatever, only 16. The worst thing I’ve done is steal money from my brothers and shoplift some gum. How does that make me the worst of the worst?!”\n\n“Well Greg I couldn’t tell you that. I’m not the one that sent you here I’m just the one to greet you. If you really want to know why you have the skills to survive and thrive in the first three Realms you need to take my seat. When I retire and you take over you will become Satan. You will rule the darkness and you will be one of the Big Man’s many chancellors. You will be able to meet him and ask him any question you wish when he checks in. First though, you must step through that door to begin the Fourth Realm.”\n\nThe Devils words quickly sunk in. there was no way for me to go back. I had to go forward, I had to know why god, MY GOD, would forsake me to be the Emperor of Hell. Why he had given me the skills to surpass the Satan that had been sitting on his throne for 7 Millennia. Why had he made this my path?\n\nMy breathing steadied my hand extended and fingers encircled the door nob on the door standing in mid air in front of me. As my senses dulled and I was transported to the next Realm I heard the devilish cackles of the once Prince of Darkness." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Time has ended. God and Satan stand before the last soul. You are the first soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into an afterlife and thus must be judged personally. Unknown to them, you are Death and have come for them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I stood before God and Satan. Good and Evil. They who created the rules that decided where the souls I reaped would go. Except, now there were no more souls. The last one was gone, and with that, it was time for this universe to end; and I was the reaper.\n\nIt’s hard to describe what God and Satan look like. Mortal words couldn’t accurately describe the divine, after all. You could see them, but only if you looked to the side of them, or looked from the corner of your eye. If you looked directly at them, they got hazy and distorted, like a mirage. I had no clue how long they stared at me, since time had stopped. I should know, I collected her.\n\nSatan seemed to tilt his head, and I could feel his perplexion, “You have not done anything good, nor anything evil. This baffles us. You are the last human before us. How can you be so neutral?”\n\nI stared into the yawning black abyss behind the two, “I have simply done my job my entire life. There is no good or evil in death. It is a fate that befalls all.”\n\nGod opened and closed his mouth a few times, mulling over the words, “But killing for the sake of killing is an evil trait. That does not appear to be so with you. We can not even see your past deeds to judge them. How do you shield them from us?”\n\n“There are no deeds to judge. Do you not know who I am?” I looked at them. Really looked at them. And the more I concentrated, the more corporeal their forms became, the more human they looked. It was nearly time.\n\nGod and Satan shared a look, “Should we?”\n\nI sighed and the air seemed to ripple through our space, “I am the first one born in the Universe, and the last to leave. I know all those who walk between; I see them born into this world, and I guide them out.” I could feel my appearance shifting, sliding around me, making me appear bigger, for Death is more powerful than Gods, “One day, all things shall return to me and from me all things shall again be born. I am Death, the reaper, the taker of souls. This Universe has ended and you are my last to take.”\n\nThey both hesitated and took a step back; the brothers were more alike than they realized.\n\n“We are immortal, we can not be reaped so easily.” Satan replied confidently, and I felt myself smile.\n\n“You were born, and thus you can die. I was at the bedside for your birth and have watched you both grow. It is from you the souls I reaped were born, and you who is responsible for their death. I am merely the messenger.”\n\nMy hands extended, “There is no choice in this matter. You have known this day would come when the wheels of Time have ended and the light has gone out. You may come willingly or not, it matters little to me.”\n\nThere was a heavy pause and then they both reached out and took a hand each. I smiled, a sigh escaping me as they seemed to vanish, leaving me alone in the abyss. I turned to my left and started walking, keys jingling in my robes as I approached the barely visible outline of a door. I pulled out a golden key and locked it. The soft click echoed and reverberated through the space and brought another smile to my face.\n\nI turned around and proceeded the other way, to another door. I took out a silver key this time and unlocked it. With a little push, the door opened. The air that hit me was fresh and full of possibility. A new Universe was just born, filled with possibilities. I stepped through and watched the swirling mass of primordial goop. I popped it like a balloon with my finger nail.\n\nThere was a big bang." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Your immortality was a gift intill the government found out and you were locked away, put into a state of perpetually dying to contain you. Fire, acid, drowning. What they didn’t expect is that as you continued to die, your body soon began to adapt." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“The latest report on Subject Eleven per your request, Doctor York.”\n\n“Thank you, Peter,” replied the elderly scientist as he began poring over the first page of the file in front of him. Sterile white light glinted off his badge reading ‘Frederick York, Ph.D’ as he continued, “So, not even armor-piercing 7.62 rounds make a dent now?”\n\n“Yes, Doctor. We’ve requisitioned M2A1’s from the DoD, but there’s no telling how long those will remain effective. Especially given the alarming rate of mutation Subject Eleven is currently undergoing.”\n\n“And that new variant of gaseous ricin R&D was developing? Any luck with that?”\n\n“Temporary incapacitation at best, even with the gas being ventilated into its enclosure on a 24/7 basis.”\n\nFrederick let out a heavy sigh. The pair remained silent in contemplation until the older of the two spoke, “Lord, do I miss the old days. Eleven had a name, you know. Urijah Howard. Heh. My goodness, that was almost forty-eight years ago when we first brought him in. Things were a lot simpler back then too. A single 9mm round to the temple or a quick puff of serin gas was all you needed to put him down.”\n\n“Of course, Doctor.”\n\n“But now…my goodness. Now, even a battery of M9 flamethrowers would feel like a lukewarm jacuzzi to Eleven.”\n\nFrederick continued to thumb through the hefty file, his frown deepening as he read through page after page of disappointing results. “At the rate things are now progressing, I believe we have no choice but to proceed with the Lunar Contingency. Peter, get the Commander-in-Chief on the line if you would. The sooner we get that rocket prepped, the less likely Eleven will have time to coun-”\n\nThe doctor paused mid-sentence. His brow furrowed as his eyes landed on the words ‘covert psychological manipulation’ under the ‘Recent Mutations’ section. “Peter, when was this phenomenon first recorded?”\n\nPeter stepped closer until he was standing over the scientist’s shoulder and replied, “About four days ago, Doctor. We began noticing unusual behavior in the security personnel assigned to the lowest levels of the enclosure. A detailed examination of their helmet transmissions revealed they were all whispering an identical phrase. ‘The Prophet awakens and He will deliver Judgment.'”\n\nFrederick swallowed the lump in his throat and ran a shaky hand across his face. “And you said…this has been occurring for four days now?”\n\n“Yes, Doctor.”\n\nRagged breaths began to escape from the older scientist’s mouth as he stuttered, “Peter. W-when did you last leave Eleven’s enclosure?”\n\n“Thirty minutes ago, Doctor.”\n\n“…damn it,” whispered Frederick hoarsely, his body coiling up as he felt a hand firmly pressed on his left shoulder. “W-whatever he told you to do, p-please. Make it quick.”\n\n“I’m afraid that’s not what the Prophet has in mind for you, Doctor. For He believes your talents will be invaluable in enacting his Judgment upon the world. Please, let’s not delay any further. He has been waiting to see you for forty-eight years and is eager to finally make your acquaintance.”\n\nr/williamk9949" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: \"Are we there yet?\", said the small quiet voice. A skinny 6 year old child is in the backseat playing with a small metallic sphere with an alien glow. You've never seen this child before in your life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The child ignores my profanity-filled outburst.\n\n“Have you eaten? I’m very hungry.”\n\nThe pure lunacy of the situation is not lost on me, but other than nearly jumping out of my skin a second ago, my lizard-brain doesn’t seem to think I’m in immediate danger. The child is rolling the little metal orb across the seat, almost oblivious of my existence.\n\nMy existence.\n\nIn my seat.\n\nIn my car.\n\nMy bloody car, driving down the expressway to my home.\n\nMy empty home.\n\nWithout. Children.\n\nI decide now is as good a time as any to pull over and make an attempt at mentally processing the situation. As we pass a Mcdonalds the child pointedly peers at me but I pretend not to notice. I pick a petrol station, just as I would on any other Tuesday, and pull in to a pump.\n\n“Snickers is my favourite. Twix will do in a pinch.”\n\nI haven’t decided if I’m going to acknowledge the presence of the child yet. I mean, we have made eye contact in the rear-view. I can still see her, illuminated by the glow from the orb. I realise I’m standing in the middle of the parking lot, staring at my car, and hurry into the store.\n\nThe teller gives me two pound in change and asks again if I’m feeling quite all right. I nod, again, and brush it off with a comment about the weather. Another rainy evening, of course. As I walk back to my car I’m more than a little startled to find the child pumping the tank. Relaxed as ever, leaning against rear bumper, and rolling that orb across the boot.\n\nI hand her a Kit-kat and she returns a bit of a glare. Uncalled for, really. I didn’t have to buy her chocolate. As I’m clicking in my seat belt my hands start to shake. Quite a lot. I miss the slot a full three times before finally shoving it in, dramatically, with both hands. I pull in a deep lungful of air, staring straight ahead. The child clears her throat. I take a moment to stare a question into the ceiling and sigh before turning to face her.\n\n“Wanna hold the ball?”\n\nI do, actually. She hands it over willingly, plunking it right into my hand. It’s heavy. A bit like a paperweight. An alien paperweight. An alien paperweight that would roll right off the table, and really wouldn’t do well as a paperweight at all.\n\n“You know what? Kit-kat isn’t half bad.”\n\nI think I’ve been staring at this ball for half an hour. Or half a day. The passage of time feels a bit funny at the moment. My hands can’t shake when they’re holding the ball. My eyes feel kinda dry. Is it really half past nine?\n\n“Give us the ball back, darling.”\n\nMy hands feel empty without the ball. I mean...I mean of course they do, but the other kind of empty. My hands are less...good. Less good without the ball.\n\n“We won’t get anywhere in any amount of time at this rate, Richard.”\n\nShe’s right." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: \"Dead men tell no tales.\" You can speak to the dead, and all they ever do is tell tales." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I arrived at the airport in Germany, just returning from my vacation in London, England. I had been listening to the mixtape my wife gave me, and it made me think about how my life is going to be with her.\n\nI walked out of the terminal and retrieved my luggage and waited for my ride outside. I sat and stared off into the distance. Waiting.\n\nI had two missed calls from my father, one from my wife. I check in on my voicemails, concerned it was something important. They couldn't pick me up, my fathers car had gotten a flat tire over night.\n\nSo I started walking into the city looking for a pub to kill some time. I came across a pub that used to be a shoe store in the 1940s. The pub was very popular for others around my age, so I thought I'd sip a few pints away.\n\nAbout 2 hours later I went out for a cigarette. I was feeling a bit buzzed, maybe starting to become consumed by all the beer I had drank. I lit my cigarette in desperation from the stress the flight had left on me. The drag of nicotine swarming my veins and body shut me down with relaxation. I squatted down against the wall, head down and vision becoming a blur. A tall man had walked into the alleyway I was in, and he say across from me, pulling out a bag of tobacco. He stared at me and began to roll a cigarette with no effort.\n\n\"Long day?\" the man asked me.\n\n\"Long flight, and the day is getting longer. So I guess I'm having a long day, how about yourself?\"\n\n\"Bland. So very bland. I just watch people walk by all day and none of them even acknowledge me standing on the sidewalks.\"\n\nConfused I took another drag and sat on the ground, head directed towards the man.\n\n\"Are people not friendly in this town?\" I asked.\n\n\"Well, after being dead for 70 years, no one seems to care for me.\"\n\nThinking he was maybe a bit crazy in the head, I replied \"dead?\"\n\nHe had pulled out a medal from his jacket pocket, showing me from across the alleyway. It was a Nazi Valor medal. Thinking he was playing along I began to joke with him, telling him it was 2012 and he needed to catch up in time. His facial expression was bland, no emotion at all.\n\n\"My best friend killed me because I was helping Jewish people flee Germany. We were both in the SS, and I was chosen to be a leader of a group of men.\"\n\nHis story was gripping my attention by the throat, making me begin to sweat, as if my body was fighting off a fever.\n\n\"We had done a routine check inside a mans shop. In fact, it's this one right here, but over time its progressed into a pub. It used be a shoe store, but back to my story.\"\n\nMy cigarette was beginning to burn my fingers and I dropped it so fast, grasping my hand in a whimpering pain.\n\n\"Edward Leitz was the owner of the store, a wife and 6 kids lived in the floor above. He moved from Berlin in 1938 and continued his work in making custom shoes and repairing countless soles. A family of four Jewish immigrants were living in the basement where he stored his equipment.\"\n\nI had to take of my jacket as I was beginning to sweat even more. My forehead was becoming a sponge and my wrists were starting to swell.\n\n\"It was midnight when we had found the family, and I couldn't kill them. They were begging me and begging me not to slaughter them. I hate killing people. So I let them free. I let them leave in hopes of them having a better future than most Jewish people during this time. My friend Dert had stared at me enraged at the actions I had made against the SS and the third reich. He had began to grab me and we wrestled around the store. He threw me into the basement and began to beat me, along with the rest of my men.\"\n\nI had began to buckle at my knees. My throat becoming dry and in desperation of water.\n\n\"They left me there on the ground, bleeding and broken. Dert had started a fire and ran out, locking the basement door. I attempted to kick down the door, but it was no use. I heard gun shots and screaming from Edward and his family. I was then being burned alive. I have no regrets of my actions. I haunted those men until they died.\"\n\nI sat there listening in discomfort, confused as to why I was able to see him. If he was really a ghost, why am I seeing all this?\n\n\"I have no where else to go. So I sit here every night waiting for Edward to come see me.\"\n\n\"Why are you telling me this?\" I asked in concern.\n\n\"Someone has to know my story, and the story of the Lietz family and the men who murdered them. \"\n\nHe got up and began to walk away in a state of depression. I yelled for his name, and he turned and stared at me, and walked off in silence. I sat there trying to cool off, realizing I was beginning to burn inside from the story he was telling me.\n\nI walked back inside the pub to speak to the bartender about the history of the building, and all he mentioned was a fire. Nothing else." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A young and old man sit together to discuss death. One of them is dying, but which one is unclear from their conversation." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The young man was sitting on a bench. Despite how warm and beautiful of a day it was, he was stricken with the deepest fear and sadness he had ever felt. He had his jacket wrapped around him tight, trying to give himself any form of comfort, though, it wasn’t doing much.\n\nThe old man walked over and sat down next to the young man. He was smiling, having a cheerful aura around him. He looked forward, not saying a word.\n\nThe young man let the silence linger for a little bit, then he spoke up. “Dad… what do I do?” His voice was a little shaky. He pulled the jacket tighter around himself, keeping his head down.\n\nThe old man took a second to respond. “Well, son… I don’t think there is anything you can do.” He said in a calm and gentle voice.\n\n“But I-.. I want to be able to do something. I’m scared.” The young man’s voice cracked, the fear in his voice obvious.\n\n“I know this is scary. You don’t know what to do, and that’s terrifying, I know. But you can’t do anything. So you’ll just have to accept it, Rody.” The old man said sternly, still smiling.\n\n“I don’t want to accept this..” Rody shut his eyes tight, tears forming. “I just… I wish there was some kind of warning.”\n\nThe old man finally looked at his son. “There was, son. We just ignored them. We shouldn’t have. We should’ve done better. But that’s in past now. All we can do is wait.”\n\nRody stayed silent for a minute. “No. I should have done better. You didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have.” He mumbled at the end, starting to relax a bit.\n\nHis father put his hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you’re right. It doesn’t make me feel any less guilty though.”\n\n“Guilty?” He lifted his head to look at his father. The old man’s smile was gone, instead there was a guilt stricken expression. Rody felt a pang in his chest. “You couldn’t have prevented this. I should’ve done better. I should’ve paid more attention.” The son continued, letting go of his jacket, his voice getting quieter. “I’m at fault. I did this….”\n\nThe old man was quiet for a while again. “Ah, well. It doesn’t really matter whose fault it was now, does it?” The old man smiled again, getting the little cheery tone back to his voice. His father spoke again. “But hey, look on the bright side. At least you’ll be seeing me again soon.” He smiled to his son.\n\nRody let the tears stream down his face. He smiled too. “Yeah… I can’t wait.” He looked down at himself again, the blood from his stab wound had covered most of his torso by now. He looked back to his father, who was no longer there. He looked forward at the grave in front of him.\n\n“I’ll see you soon, dad.” He spoke to the grave. Then he rested his head on the back of the bench, and let himself go." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You wake up in a cold sweat. Outside your house, you hear a scratching sound. As you reach for the curtains an arm pulls you under the bed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The scratching awoke me with a startle. I listened to it, smiling at the sound of the branches rubbing the glass windows. It was a claiming sound, that I had heard for years, and grown up with. But as I calmed down, I froze, my heart pounding. There wasn't any trees near my house. That was my childhood home, not this one.\n\nI got up, breath coming faster as I headed for the curtains. The scratching picked up, with a screeching sound like nails against glass. I reached out to open, when I felt hard, spindly fingers wrap around my ankle. It pulled back, and I fell, the air knocked out of my lungs. Another hand grabbed my leg, and pulled me further.\n\nI struggled to suck in a breath, unable to do so before I was dragged beneath my bed. In the oppressive darkness, I felt a large presence focused on me. As my lungs finally inflated, and I opened my mouth to scream, one of those hands covered my mouth.\n\n\"Shhhh. Be quiet.\"\n\nI tried to speak, but with its hand over my mouth only grunts came out. Its dry, raspy voice spoke again, barely above a whisper.\n\n\"You may not believe this, but I am not going to hurt you, Graham Fuji.\"\n\nA small light formed, illuminating the face of an old hag. Its broken teeth were spread in what I guessed was meant to be a comforting smile. One hand was open, holding onto the light, as the other covered my mouth. Strangely, the light seemed to stop before reaching the outside of my bed, leaving it in darkness.\n\n\"Keep your voice down, and we can talk.\"\n\nIt withdrew its hand, but kept it up near my face.\n\n\"Wha... what's going on? Who are you?\"\n\nIt kept up that disturbing smile.\n\n\"I'm just a Night Hag. You were unfortunate enough to move into this town without knowing the necessary protections. What you need to know is the barrier here is weak. Our world and yours...blur occasionally.\"\n\n\"Necessary protections? Your world? What is this? And what the hell is sc-\"\n\nAs my voice rose its hand covered my mouth again, cutting me off.\n\n\"I said to be quiet. Look, most houses here have some level of protection. Either the old residents have taken time to inlay sigils and runes, or are still around and know how to defend. Newer families don't tend to mess with this sigils, as they tend to be made into local charm, and part of the house.\n\nOf course you didn't. You and your... what's it called...modernisation? You ripped out the protection. And now the Moonghast is wanting to feed. Simply put, it can't harm you unless it knows you are awake and you see it. But as long as it believes you sleep, it can't enter, due to dream barriers.\n\nNormally we would let you see it, be driven mad and die. But I can't this time. The Moonghast has grown too strong. If it feeds on anymore, it will be able to hunt us in turn. So I have to make sure you, being the unprotected fool you are,don't accidentally feed yourself to it.\n\nNow, it can't survive in daylight, but it will come back tomorrow night. If you want to not have to worry about this again, you need to go and find one of the older residents to refortify your house. Or better yet, learn how to defend it yourself.\"\n\nIt finished with a glower, before the light faded.\n\n\"Now, to make this easier on both of us, I'm going to put you to sleep. Remember, tomorrow go find an old folk. I will be here, as you won't be able to get the place protected in a single day. But don't you dare dawdle.\"\n\nI couldn't protest, and I felt myself suddenly go very drowsy. My eyes grew too heavy to keep open, and I fell into a deep sleep." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A supervillain struggles to balance his life of super-villainy with his life as a single father of two." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frank Newsworth had two sides.\n\nDr. Ironfist, the supreme super villian if Algoria, and arch nemesis to Tornado man.\n\nBut his other side, was reserved for his two little girls.\n\nTo Bella and Molly, he was simply 'daddy'.\n\n\"Daddy! Daddy! Lookat what I drew today!\" Bella squealed as she ran up to the car. The seven year old thrust a paper in Frank's face through the window.1\n\nIt was a stick figure drawing of a princess, in a blue dress and a gold crown. Above her head was messily scrawled: prinses Bella\n\nFrank smiled at his daughter as he opened the door of his car.\n\n\"This is amazing sweetie! You're going to be quite the princess someday. May I address you as 'Princess Bella' from now on?\"\n\nHe teased, setting the picture on the passenger's seat so it wouldn't wrinkle. This was one to put on the fridge.\n\n\"Yes you may\" Bella commanded in a fake posh accent. She managed to hold a straight face for all of ten seconds, before dissolving into giggles, accidentally waking up two year old Molly.\n\nAs the two youngsters competed in a 'mouth fart contest' Frank contemplated his plans for the evening once his angels were asleep.\n\nTornado man was planning an attack on a local bar where he and fellow crooks and shady fellows often found refuge. One of the few places left where they could still do that. Most turned to crime when they had nothing left they could do, or like in Frank's case, when they were at rock bottom.\n\nBut, Tornado man was having a rally to boost morale in the city before that. Might be a fun time to crash the party. Maybe take a few hostages, mainly rich old pricks, and be out before the wee hours of morning.\n\n\"Iron fist! I should have known you were behind this!\" The grey masked hero's voice boomed across the hall.\n\n\"What? I thought I'd show up for a while, boost the moral like you say to\" Frank taunted.\n\nAn empty gun was in his hand, and aimed at the mayor's second chin, quivering, along with his other two, in total fear.\n\nY'all know how this schtick works, you've seen enough superhero films.\n\nBla, bla, bla, evil monologue, bla, bla, \"you'll never get away with this\" cliche, yadda, yadda, run off with hostages, dump them on a random rooftop and steal away onto the night. Yup, pretty normal Thursday night.\n\nExcept it wasn't.\n\nJust as Frank finished pulling off his sweaty costume (he really needed to make one out of breathable material) someone pounded on his door.\n\n\"Open up! Algorian police department!\"\n\nOn the other side of the door was two of the four chief policemen in Algoria, and the big lig himself, Tornado man.\n\n\"Can I help you?\" Frank asked. Tornado man wasted no time.\n\n\"We have one hundred and fifty seven reports of trespassing on private property, thirteen reports for crimes against the state, ninety three reports of crimes against the city of Algoria, and five reports, including tonight's, of kidnapping public officials. You are under arrest, and you will see your lawyer tomorrow morning.\"\n\nWith that major bombshell, Frank was silent. They knew. There was no point in resisting because they knew.\n\n\"Dada?\" A small voice came from the stairs. When Frank turned, two pairs of eyes stared back at him. His girls. Molly, who was a perfect mix or Amanda and himself, and Bella, who was the spitting image of her mother already at seven.\n\nHow could he give himself over without first securing their safety?! How could he ever live with that?\n\n\"What's goin on?\" Bella asked, rubbing sleep from her big blue eyes. Frank smiled calmly at his daughter, and knelt to their eye level.\n\n\"Daddy has to go away for a while, and it's going to be a while before you see me again. But you're going to be fine. Okay? Tornado man's going to take care of you until I come back. So be good bbn until then. Can you do that?\" Both girls nodded.\n\n\"Good. Bella, you take care of your sister, and Molly, grow and learn and play as much as you can. Both of you. I love you two, so much.\" Frank pulled his girls in and held them close.\n\nSo little, not really understanding what was happening. Frank turned to the officers.\n\n\"I'll go quietly, but take care of my daughters, or the first chance I get, you'll regret that you didn't. Am I understood?\"\n\nAll three men nodded. Good.\n\nIn the police cruiser, Tornado man was the first to break the silence. \"I didn't know you were a father.\"\n\nFrank nodded, and chuckled. \"Neither did I until Amanda was halfway through the first trimester.\"\n\nFrank cleared his throat. \"She died. Cancer.\"\n\nThe hero nodded. \"I'm sorry for your loss. Truly. \"\n\n\"You will take care of them, right? No one in my family can take in two little kids, and I don't want them going through foster care\" Frank prodded.\n\n\"Yes. Until you serve your time, your children will be well cared for, and you may see them when you wish. I can promise you this.\"\n\n.....\n\n\"Thank you\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Abortion is legal until the age of 5." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I stared at the floor and counted in my head.\n\n30… 31… 32…\n\nThe white tiles were cold and hard. Clean. Sterile.\n\n60… 61… 62…\n\nI told myself that there was no point worrying - obviously, it would be negative. Obviously it would. After all, we had taken all the recommended precautions.\n\n90… 91… 92…\n\nI could hear Clare playing in her room down the hall. She was singing to her dolls. I’d asked her once why she sang to them and she told me very matter-of-fact that it stopped them from feeling so afraid. I didn’t have the strength in me to ask her what they were afraid of.\n\n120… 121… 122…\n\nI knew better than to look too soon at what I clutched in my hand. My knuckles were white from squeezing it so tightly. I knew from experience that it was better to wait until there was no chance that it could still change before my eyes.\n\n150… 151… 152…\n\nNearly time. Nearly. The crisp tile edges appeared to blur and waver. Stinging tears fell from my eyes onto the ceramic. Drip drip drip.\n\nThe three minutes was up.\n\nI took a deep breath and opened my hand to reveal the digital display and the result that I already knew in my heart.\n\nPositive.\n\nHow?\n\nHow could it be positive?\n\nGrimacing, I clutched at my abdomen. How could I possibly be pregnant again?\n\nThe front door slammed.\n\n“Daddy, daddy!” Clare ran down the hallway to greet her father.\n\nThe realisation that my husband was home shook me out of my stupor. I hastily wrapped the pregnancy test in tissue and hid it on top of the cabinet, before splashing some cold water on my face. He knocked at the door.\n\n“Come in, darling,” I said, my voice trembling only slightly.\n\nI nearly broke down into tears when I saw his face. How could I tell him?\n\nHis happy countenance fell as soon as he registered my mood. “What’s wrong?” he asked, hastily shutting the door behind him.\n\n“I… Oh, god!” I wailed, lunging forwards, blindly groping for his embrace. He held me, stroking my hair, softly whispering soothing sounds. Eventually, I managed to find my voice again, softly speaking into his ear to ensure that Clare couldn’t possibly hear.\n\n“I’m pregnant, George.”\n\nHe tensed. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable grief.\n\n“But that’s wonderful news, love!” he said.\n\nI pushed him away from me, incredulous.\n\n“How the hell can you say that?” I spat at him, wrapping my arms around myself defensively.\n\nHe laughed. He actually laughed.\n\n“Well, it might be a boy! We might get a son, finally!”\n\n“We can’t lose Clare! I can’t lose another daughter!”\n\n“It’s going to be hard, of course it is, I completely understand that. But you must appreciate how much better it would be to have a baby boy?”\n\nI felt sick. Realisation swept over me.\n\n“You... You did this!”\n\nHe walked towards me and tried to tenderly stroke my shoulder but I flinched away from his touch.\n\n“I did what needed to be done, my love. I knew your maternal instinct for Clare would cloud your judgement on this, that you would do anything to avoid getting pregnant again, but I had to put my foot down. I really must have an heir. We’ll have a new baby in the house soon! You’ll come around.”\n\nI couldn’t stop shaking my head, as if denying it all would end this nightmare. It all made sense on paper, you see, from a numbers point of view. The world’s population was far too high. 50 billion people was just not sustainable. We were lucky to even live in a country where we were allowed children, provided we stuck to the rules. We were lucky to have an apartment that was above ground, that we didn’t have to share with another family. We were lucky.\n\nThe rules had ben set in place decades ago and they were just starting to show a positive effect - our water rations had gone up this year, for one thing. But having to accept that until your youngest child reached 5 years of age, a subsequent pregnancy would require that either you terminated your pregnancy or your eldest child would be ‘aborted’ by the state and put up for compulsory organ donation was a terrifying prospect.\n\nIt had happened to us once already. Little Denise was only 2 years old when I found out that I was pregnant with Clare. At the time I would not have believed that George would have sabotaged our birth control, but now I wasn’t so sure. The doctors told me I couldn’t risk ending the pregnancy prematurely, that my medical history made it far too dangerous, but now I couldn’t help wondering if George had paid them to say this to me. Clare's birthday was Denise’s ‘abortion’ day. Denise's cries as she was carried away from us still haunted my dreams.\n\nAll the strength seemed to leave my body and I slumped towards the floor. George grabbed me, and sat me on the stool.\n\nWhispering, he said “it’ll all be fine, you’ll see. I’ll fix dinner and give you a chance to freshen up. You need to preserve your strength, you’re eating for two after all! Well done my dear,” he leaned in and kissed my cheek. I winced in revulsion, relieved when he had finally left me alone to process everything he had said.\n\nEven if what George had said was true, he could have waited until Clare’s fifth birthday before doing this. It wasn’t even necessary!\n\nI sighed. Of course, George would think about it differently, wouldn't he. He would weigh up the relative costs and benefits. That was his job, after all, one of the finest financial minds of his generation - a phrase I used to tell my friends with great pride. He would reason that I wouldn't be fertile for many more years, and it was cheaper to have only one child. How could he do this? What kind of monster had I married?\n\nI looked at myself in the mirror, long and hard. There were exceptions to the rules, of course. If one of the parents died, for instance…\n\nReaching into the cabinet for his straight razor, I decided to be kind. To make it painless for him. I tested the blade against my finger. Red beads of blood welled up and dropped to the floor, splashing, one, two, three.\n\nI would tell Clare that her dolls needn’t be afraid ever again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: \"Good to see you, Mr. Bond,\" the Queen said, sliding a file across her desk. \"Your next target is a certain so-called detective who has been prying too deeply into national secrets.\" Bond flips open the file, glancing down at the name. \"Sherlock Holmes.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The file went into detail about Holmes' abilities to deduce elaborate murders based on tiny details and his vast knowledge of the world. For the most part, Holmes was non-violent. Did not even carry a gun, making him an easy target. Supposedly a junky. His assistant, life partner, wingman dr. Watson might be a problem.\n\nI was expecting Ms Hudson, 70something housekeeper to open the door, but it was a spindly looking man with a crooked nose. Holmes.\n\n\"Mr Bond, I presume? Here to kill me? Do come in, it is freezing outside, and I can feel it in my bones.\" I stepped into a trap. As I followed Holmes up the stairs into his study, Dr Watson was behind me. He searched me before I sat down. I was not armed.\n\n\"You must be wondering how I knew MI6 is trying to kill me? To be honest, they have no other option.Last night I contracted a virus for the Queen and country. A rather nasty kind could kill millions in hours. Ebola piggybacking on flu. You sneeze, and your innards turn to mush. Killing me and burning the body would cure it forever since it might turn me into patient Zero if whatever triggers it.\"\n\n\"I could just kill you and defuse the threat.\"\n\n\"True. Or you could keep me alive long enough to aid my search for the creator of my demise.\"\n\n\"Moriarty?\"\n\n\"Blofeld\"\n\nErnst Stavro Blofeld. How many times do I have to kill him? What are they, growing him in vats someplace?\n\n\"One of the clones. Produced in the same labs as the virus. I was about to travel to the location myself when the mishap occurred. I can't leave the country legally in this condition. So I need you to kill me and deliver my body to Watson.\"\n\n\"You mean surpass the cleanup crew that is waiting in the van outside and listening?\"\n\n\"My friends took care of them. The van is ours to escape in. Tracking is disabled.\"\n\n\"You expect me to just go along with this?\"\n\n\"No Mr Bond I expect you to fall to your urges and go hunt Blofeld. He is your white whale.\"\n\nHe looked at me again, smiling.\n\n\" You would be, of course, saving the world and pissing of your superiors in the process, something you've acquired a taste for over the years\"\n\n\" You seem to have me figured out.\"\n\n\"No, I just hope you will be you.\"\n\nWatson stepped in front of me, extending his hand. \"Glad to have you on board. We should move.\"\n\nHolmes picked up a sharpie pen and started drawing a tribal motif on his face. Watson gave me one, while shaving his eyebrows.\n\n\" Draw below the mouth, but above the chin to make facial recognition misidentify the placement of the jaw.”\n\n\"We need a plane to get to South America.\"\n\n\"I know a guy.\"\n\nRichard owed me a favour since we were young derelicts. He supplied the weed to the Stones. A private plane full of pot, way back in the sixties. Never touched the hard stuff, but it was enough to land him a nice stretch. He has a farm up in Yorkshire now. Keeps the plane at a local airport, as a souvenir. Mick Jagger borrows it to reminisce about the swinging sixties. Hopefully, not today.\n\nWe traded the van in with a raver that stumbled out of the woods near the farm. He was off his head, but did not have a way to get home in Manchester, so us giving him the van just for him being so nice sounded reasonable.\n\nAirport was dark. Watson seemed to know his way around the cockpit, so I joined Sherlock in the salon. His eyes were closed and he was playing a violin with moderate skill.\n\n\"It helps me think.\"\n\n\"So does cocaine?\"\n\n\"I found some in the ashtray in the back row. I am sure the owner would not mind.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: As new Secretary for the Grand Order of Royal Huntsmen - a group of monster hunters - its your job to prepare a report to the Queen of all the monsters the Order has killed in the past year. Only catch, the last monster was killed in 1723, and the Order has been scamming the Crown ever since" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“A Giant Wandering Spider?” The clerk’s eyes lazily floated above the paper and peered over the rim of his glasses. Reflected in them was an overweight man wearing ornate regal dress and much decorative insignia. He was standing in a growing puddle of his own sweat. “Where?” The clerk asked.\n\n“S-sir?” The sweating man stammered, dabbing his head with a soaked handkerchief.\n\nThe clerk lazily flopped his arm onto the desk, still holding the paper. “Where…” he began, taking off his glasses and wiping the lenses with his free arm against the sleeve of his jacket, “did your men kill a Giant Wandering Spider?”\n\n“In Deepwark cave near Canterbury sir!” The sweaty man exclaimed with much practised enthusiasm. “The documents explain the nature of the hunt and the kill sir, o-of course I was not there but having studied the drawings and the description it did indeed sound like a ferocious beast!” His words hung in the air like a thick miasma. “A-as the newest secretary it falls to me to relay this information to yourself and to the crown…” he trailed off.\n\nThe clerk rubbed at his eyes and placed the glasses on the desk. He sat for a lingering moment, before he suddenly pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, striding across the room to a set of drawers lining the adjacent wall. He scanned them briefly before fixing on one just below head height. He pulled it out a quarter of the way and placed the paper he was holding on top of the stack of papers already inside, then grabbed the bottom of the drawer with his now free hand and yanked the entire drawer out of the wall.\n\nThe sweating man continued to create enough water to fill a bath as he watched the clerk grunt his way back over to the desk before slamming the drawer down with a foreboding thud. On the front the word CANTERBURY was written in black ink. He reached in and grabbed a fistful of papers with one hand, and his glasses off the desk with his other. He flipped back the top few sheets of paper and cleared his throat. “The Grand Order of Royal Huntsmen at the pleasure of her Royal Majesty Queen Victoria - report for the year 1845 for the city of Canterbury and the surrounding county of Kent.” The clerk cleared his throat once again and glanced across the desk.\n\nThe secretary was furiously dabbing his forehead, ringing the handkerchief out behind his back. The ornate window to his right cast a perfect, sweltering beam in a straight line framing exactly where he was standing.\n\nThe clerk continued. “The Royal Order reported one hunt for this region for this year 1845. An expedition to Deepwark cave some three miles from Canterbury led to the slaying of a Giant Wandering Spider. It took twelve rounds of rifle fire from six men to bring down.” Without looking up, the clerk dropped the papers back into the drawer, dug his hand in deeper down the side of the paper stack and pulled out another clump of papers. He flicked through them until he cleared his throat for the third time. “The Grand Order of Royal Huntsmen at the pleasure of his Royal Majesty William IV - report for the year 1836 for the city of Canterbury, etcetera, Order reported one hunt for this region… an expedition to Deepwark cave… slaying of a Giant Wandering Spider. It took twelve rounds of rifle fire from six men.”\n\nThe clerk dug his hand deep into the drawer, fetching a pile of papers from somewhere near two-thirds down. He briefly glanced up at the secretary, who was visibly wobbling on his feet. “His Royal Majesty George III, year 1789, one expedition, Giant Wandering Spider, twelve rounds of rifle fire, six men.” He dropped the papers he was holding back into the drawer, and sank back into his chair. “Tell me, secretary, when were you appointed secretary of the Order?”\n\n“F-f-five months ago, sir. C-can I please sit down?”\n\n“Do you know who else was replaced five months ago, secretary?”\n\nThe secretary shook his head gingerly.\n\n“The Crown Clerk to the Grand Order of Royal Huntsmen.”\n\nThe sun had slid behind a cloud, providing a momentary respite from the direct heat. The secretary could see now without squinting out into the London street down below. He briefly glanced out the window before turning back to the clerk, then sharply snapping his head back to the window.\n\nThe Order liked to announce it’s arrival in style, and it always rode it’s officials around in an ornately decorated cart with beautifully groomed, pristine horses. It was in a cart like this that he had arrived here, and it was this cart that was now absent from where it had been on the street when he had entered the building.\n\n“Yes, secretary.” The clerk gestured to an uncomfortably small looking chair pulled close to the desk. “You may sit down.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A sadistic and psychotic serial killer has chosen you as their next victim. They want to \"have some fun\" with you before they kill you by making your last hour a waking nightmare. Unfortunately for them you have literally gone through hell and so you find this less scary and more laughable." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a dark and stormy night. Thunder boomed, rain poured down, and I was lying on my couch, watching a movie before I planned to go to bed.\n\nI glanced at the window, and I saw a mysterious shadowy figure staring back at me, holding what appeared to be a sledgehammer. Then, there was a flash of lightning, and the figure vanished. Not thinking much of it, I continued watching the movie.\n\nObviously, most people wouldn’t be as calm as I was if they saw something like that from their window. But the truth was: I was no stranger to having this kind of stuff happen to me. Where I grew up, mass killings and gang battles that often ended in casualties were frequent occurrences, and me and my family would often see people looking at us through our windows. So seeing someone looking at me through my window did not faze me in the slightest.\n\nThere was another loud flash of lightning, and the power went out. I groaned and went over to my junk drawer to grab a flashlight. As I did, I heard a knock at my door. I opened it, and standing on my doorstep was the figure I’d seen before from the window.\n\nHe was at least a foot taller than me, and I couldn’t see him outside of where my flashlight was shining. He had a blowtorch and a small container of gasoline strapped to a tool belt around his waist. I aimed my flashlight towards his face, and I saw that he was wearing a mask that resembled that of a Shy Guy’s, except that the mouth looked like that of a sandworm’s, the eyes were blood red, and blood was splattered all over the mask. He also wore a demon horn headband on his head.\n\nActing completely nonchalant, I said, “Hi, can I help you?”\n\nThe killer said, “I am here to kill. You are next. Prepare to die.”\n\nI yawned, then said, “Yeah, duh. Your outfit made that clear.”\n\nAngered by my nonchalance, he said, “Listen here, kid. I’m feeling a bit… generous tonight, so here’s the deal: I’m gonna let you live for… one more hour, but I’ll make sure it’s a living hell for you. After that… it’ll be time to say-“\n\nI closed the door on him, and ignored him as he banged on the door in increasing anger and yelled, “Don’t get too cocky, kid! I’m gonna make you wish you would die sooner!”\n\nI heard footsteps, then heard banging coming from the attic. I imagined the killer was probably using his hammer to break into the attic to do… something, idk.\n\nThen, I heard the sound of flowing liquid, and blood began leaking through the ceiling. I called, “C’mon, is that the best you can do?!”\n\nThen, the lightning flashes got louder and more frequent. With each flash, the killer’s silhouette appeared and disappeared in front of me, as if he were a ghost. I called again, “You know, the same trick gets old after you use it so many times!”\n\nThen, the killer broke a hole in my kitchen ceiling, and began blasting his blowtorch on full blast through the hole. I picked up a chunk of wood from the ceiling, stuck it towards the flame, and called, “What a lovely campfire!”\n\nI heard banging and an angry scream come from upstairs, and the killer yelled, “That’s it! It’s lights out early for you, kid!”\n\nThen, the entire kitchen ceiling caved in, and the killer stood before me, his mask gone, and I could see the expression of pure insanity on his face. Double irises, crazed smile, his words slurring slightly as he yelled, “Say goodnight, kid!”\n\nNot caring about what happened to me, I opened my arms, smiled and closed my eyes, not flinching as the killer hit my head as hard as he could with his hammer. I could see pieces of bone land on the floor as I fell down.\n\nThe killer hit me upside the head one more time, then poured out his container of gasoline on me and blasting his blowtorch on me, lighting me up instantly. But again, I did not care what happened to me, so I let the fiery flames of death take me as I watched the killer make his escape." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: A demon has possessed your spouse, planning unspeakable things for you and your family. What they don't know is you're a disguised demon yourself who fell in love with a human." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Craig heard the screams from downstairs. The moment he did, he raced up, fast enough that he almost forgot gravity was a thing. He had to fight to remember to keep his feet in the ground, and actually move through the hall. But Lucy was still screaming, making all that difficult to remember.\n\nHe burst into their bedroom. Lucy was on the bed. Her normally light tanned skin had changed into a sickly green. Her back was bent nearly double, and her eyes were pure white. She let out an unholy scream of pain and rage. A second after he entered, her screams stopped. A wicked smile crossed her face. Her back seemed to reverse, and she was suddenly sitting up.\n\n\"Heya, hubby.\" She said. Her voice was rough and mixed with another, male voice. \"How's it going? How about a nice big kiss!\"\n\nA myriad of emotions ran through Craig's mind as he watched his beloved wife launch herself at him. Of all of them, annoyance won.\n\n\"Really, Greg? You had to choose this one?\"\n\nLucy's body froze, arms outstretched. She looked at him, head twisting far more than normal.\n\n\"How...do you know that name?\"\n\nCraig sighed and closed his eyes. The smell of sulphur wafted from him as his disguise dropped. He stood there in his true, demonic form and crossed his arms in front of his chest.\n\nLucy, or rather the demon inside of her, grinned. \"Craig!\" He cheered. \"You son of an angel, we were wondering where you'd gone. Me and the boys were worried a slayer had gotten to you.\"\n\n\"Oh please. Like any human slayer could off me.\"\n\n\"That's what I said! But Steve and Pete are convinced that you're dust. They're gonna be so mad when I tell them.\"\n\n\"How much and what's my cut?\" Craig asked.\n\n\"What makes you think you get a cut? All you did was not die.\"\n\n\"Good enough for me.\"\n\n\"Fine, fine. It's ten souls. I'll give you one of em.\"\n\nCraig mulled it over. \"Works for me. Anyway, think you can get out of her? I'm not really done with her yet.\"\n\n\"Ah, geeze, is this your mark? Sorry, buddy, I didn't know. But damn it, I can't just leave. I got put on possession duty for the first time in 200 years.\"\n\n\"Has it really been that long since you've been topside?\" Craig asked.\n\n\"Yeah, sucks I know. So yeah, you know how it is, right? I promise I'll leave her in one piece.\"\n\n\"Not good enough for me. Get out or I'll make you.\"\n\n\"Hey, hey, chill out man. What's the big deal about...wait...\"\n\n\"Hey! Don't you dare memory dive on this one!\"\n\nBut it was too late. Lucy/Greg's mouth twisted into shock. \"Married? You actually married a human? I thought you and Karen were a thing.\"\n\n\"Karen's a bitch, and you know it. I won't mention how much of a slut she is. Comes with being a succubus, you know? But damn that woman is insufferable. I actually like Lucy here. Besides, you owe me.\"\n\nGreg huffed. \"Okay, I'll leave. But you gotta get me a replacement. You know I can't go back empty handed.\"\n\nCraig grinned. \"How about I introduce you to the next door neighbors? I hate them. Really holier than thou WASP types.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Greg's eyes lit up. Literally. \"I love messing with those guys!\"\n\n\"Just wait. It gets better. They have a teenage daughter.\"\n\n\"Oh this is gonna be so much fun! Let's get going, bud.\"\n\nCraig reapplied his disguise and waited for Greg to get Lucy's body under control enough to move without raising too much suspicion. Then the two headed out to have some real fun terrorizing the innocent." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Many years after the zombie apocalypse, mankind realized Zombies were no more monsters than Elves or Dwarves. Zombies even had special features and abilities, and found a place within the magical world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Manifold Ursech took very good care of himself. His room was always kept at a crisp level just around freezing. He took mind not to engage in very strenuous activity. When he did leave his cool chambers, he emerged to an area much the same.\n\nHe enjoyed no pleasures. As all of his kind, he was made for purpose.\n\nIn life, he had been a thriving adventurer. During a meeting with his master, the adventurer had died. Given new life in death, Manifold's master had allowed his true life's work to begin. Manifold himself held that certainty within his soul.\n\nWhich he did have. He still held opinions and felt emotion. He simply held no attachment to anything but his task.\n\n\"Good morning, Mani!\" Jacasta the human called from the library as he entered, \"have any interesting dreams?\"\n\nThe library was a grand room. Aside from Manifold's room and a few others, most rooms in the Arcticana Institute were. A place, mostly for the learning of ice magic and it's applications.\n\n\"Hello Jacasta.\"\n\nJacasta had lived at the Institute for four years. After several centuries as acting librarian, Manifold was only now beginning to commit him to memory. He was a portly man of zendian descent.\n\nThe zendian desert is a harsh place. Drought is synonymous with life in Zendia, but through careful application of magic and ingenuity, the zendian people had made a home. Jacasta, Manifold pondered, was definitely a prime example of his race.\n\nAffable and a genius in his own right, he had quickly risen to Sub-librarian in his short time at the Institute.\n\n\"Hello is so distant, my friend! How do you not call to me by now? Ha? Do you not revel in my presence, as I do yours?\" He sounded hurt, but he smiled.\n\n\"I will break you yet, ancient.\"\n\nJacasta's people, and many others, held Manifold's kind in reverence. Many of the techniques to create the soulkind had been lost. Manifold's race would eventually wither. It didn't worry him.\n\n\"Please do not break me. I'm very valuable.\" Manifold said earnestly.\n\n\"This, I know. Please, help me with this scroll?\"\n\nJacasta had, on a table close to the entrance, a large sheet. On the paper, he had designed an intricate web of symbols and runes. Gesturing towards it, the old dead man took a closer look. Instantly he understood it as a spell dealing with vast amounts of water.\n\n\"This is the spell you showed me some time ago?\" That particular spell had been an impossibility. Different lines of magic would have needed to cross each other. In that case, Manifold remembered, the line for creating the water cut through a sigil for the caster.\n\n\"Yes, but this one won't slice you in half. Look, look.\"\n\nManifold was already analysing the spell. This was his gift, his purpose. In his first life, the adventurer had been a very intelligent mage. His body still remembered that. He remembered every spell he'd ever seen. Every syllable, every spelling of a word, every gesture or intonation.\n\nThis meant that when he turned to Jacasta and told him it would work, it meant that it would. The man beamed with joy and made to hug the ancient librarian, but he held up his hands. He was very fragile, and mending himself took years at this point.\n\n\"Okay, yes, you're right. No hugs. But this will work. Thank you.\"\n\nVery impressively, Jacasta Indavesh had created a spell for creating rainclouds. Incredible ones that would feed a land for days. He would, certainly, change his entire country's fortune with this spell. Truly a genius.\n\nManifold committed him firmly in his memory as he gathered his things and left.\n\nThe permanent librarian then sat at his desk, and waited to see what would happen with the rest of his day." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: The year is 2362, well over two centuries after magic returned. In a world with mindless golems for labor, you are an outcast that dabbles in the pitiful art of \"robotics\"...and you've just built one that can cast magic." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Luz, show them again.”\n\n“Yes, John.”\n\nA gout of flame is unleashed from her upraised hand, stemming from a small glyph centered in her palm. Heat fills the room, scorching the walls and bursting what lights remained after the first demonstration.\n\n“Stop.”\n\nShe snaps her hand shut with a metallic clang, her hand glowing a soft orange. I pour a small glass of water and take a seat, swiping my foot through the shield glyph on the ground. Heat rolls over us. Without that shield we would’ve been blinded and cooked alive.\n\nThree men stand in front of me. One tall and almost regal, with jet black hair, a prominent jawline, and purple eyes. A trait only seen in certain, prolific magic users. He looks frightened.\n\nTo his side is an old man. Straight backed despite his years, he looks slightly amused at this display. He sports a head of white hair, combed back snugly against his scalp.\n\nThen, to my left is another man. Jet black skin transformed from years of using creation magic and alchemy, he looks troubled. I’m not surprised. He may be out of a job.\n\n“Luz is the first of her kind. A robot that can use magic. Fully sentient, I might add, so watch what you say about her lest she take offense.” She bows theatrically, and walks over to take her place behind my chair. Good girl.\n\n“While you were refining your magics, creating your mindless golems, and commercializing magic for its more mundane uses, I researched robotics.” The look on the tall boy’s face betrays a certain amusement.\n\n“Yes, I’ve seen that look on many faces before. Robotics is dead they would tell me. Magic is far far cheaper. But I persevered. Then it occurred to me. What if robots could use magic? They could go far beyond what we can. So I set to work.” I turn to Luz, tears in my eyes. “She is the pinnacle of years of work, and from what I have seen, surpasses every man I’ve seen. Take for example, the display you saw. That was a tenth grade flame glyph. You all know how difficult that is to maintain, and that it invariably results in the death of a novice user. It requires the caster to first create an isolation or shield glyph if they want to survive, precious time otherwise. She can do it as fast as any master magic wielder, and without the time spent on protecting herself.”\n\nI pause for dramatic effect. They’re in the palm of my hand. Partially because of my discovery, partially because I could have them immolated at any time. Wonderful.\n\n“You three represent some of the giants in this world. The Blacksmith, renowned craftsman and purveyor of magical goods, who also happens to be the CEO of the largest commercial magic company.” I ding the glass jug of water I had poured from just moments ago. It had not grown any warmer despite the heat. Magic was quite nice when you got creative.\n\n“Of course, the representative from Animation Industries, brother to the CEO and world-class locomotion and combat magic wielder. Anthony.” I nod my head to the old man, who nods back. We’ve met before.\n\n“Then there’s you. A mid-level representative from the Neptune armed forces. I’ll be frank, I’m insulted that you haven’t taken this seriously, given the nature of my work. Not you personally, don’t look so afraid, but those you represent. The rim worlds have been in open rebellion in the Sol system, and you all brush off my findings with a courtesy delegation.”\n\nI stand, handing my glass deliberately to Luz.\n\n“Gentlemen. We stand at the precipice of a breakthrough. This is the pinnacle of technological advancement. You have seen what she can do, and I assure you, she can do so much more.”\n\nI sweep my arm about the room as I speak to emphasize my words. Besides our small part, it has been positively scorched from ceiling to floor, exposing the hard stone I had put in place behind the walls.\n\n“I think you all know what kind of importance this may hold in your respective positions.”\n\nI open my hands out in front of me, a wry smile taking over my face.\n\n“Who would like to invest?”\n\nI’m gonna be rich." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Some people have the power to stop time. Unfortunately, time stops for everyone, even themselves. You are the only exception and every time someone unknowingly uses their power, you need to go and start time again." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was beginning to lose track of the amount of times this had happened. Some new brat got the time stopping ability, and she had to go reset the flow. 5,124... or was it 5,125? Didn’t matter, still annoying.\n\nCari let out a string of curse words when she looked up from her desk and saw the office frozen. 2:28 pm, she noted, and stood from her half completed papers, with a long suffering sigh she strode out of the cubicle, correcting frozen air molecules as she passed, and opened a tear in reality to the Innerworks. As suspected, everyone there was frozen, too. The workers monitoring the space time continuum and making sure Father Time’s system was running smoothly.\n\nShe swore that once she found whoever was giving these mortals the time freezing ability, she’d send them to the quarantined paradoxes to suffer the fates there. Usually involving a black hole enveloping earth from botched time travel, them splitting apart was just a bonus.\n\n“No more problem then.” She muttered to herself and no one else.\n\nThe hallways were long, winding, endless in some directions, but she knew the route well. Finally standing in front of the time stream stabilizer, she quickly set to work on the reboot program. Cracking her knuckles and glaring at it an indeterminate amount of time later, she went to go track down the latest idiot while the slow program set itself right. Luckily she had streamlined this one upon her request to Father because, in her words, “if I have to continually be interrupted from my human job to go reset the stream, I should be able to tell off the idiots who got the power in the first place.”\n\nLuckily he had agreed, and now there she was, the time steam waking up with a hum and a whisper while she typed away at the computer to locate the freezing shockwave. Nearby, the workers were beginning to unfreeze themselves as the stream woke up, and the nearest one sighed as they spotted Cari in the chair again.\n\n“Who was it this time?” Starblight spoke, rubbing his head.\n\n“Another teenager case. Seventeen, and an idiot. Likely has no clue. I’ll speak to Father on upping the search.” She grit her teeth, cementing the coordinates and shockwave simulation in her memory.\n\n“Sometimes I swear idiot is your favorite word.”\n\n“It is, after evisceration.” She shut down the computer and gave Starblight a cold, predatory smile.\n\n“It’s better than defiling godly languages I’m not supposed to know yet.” Swiftly leaving the room and not seeing his wince, she headed to the main atrium where Father Time usually was. All around her, the workers and visitors were unfreezing. Nimbly dodging a stretching minor god, she rolled her eyes and opened the ancient metaphysical door.\n\n“Father Time!” She called out, to the giant man wrapped in robes that took up a large part of the room. He yawned, not noticing her for a moment, before startling, a kind smile creasing his face.\n\n“Dearest daughter of mine. You’re back early. Oh... has it happened again?” He knelt down to get a better look at her. Eyes shifting like infinite nebulas, his gaze for once didn’t comfort her. No, she was far too close to the end of her fuse for that.\n\n“Five thousand, one hundred, and twenty five. Please, can we just get a search for who’s causing this to manifest in them?”\n\n“Of course, sweetie. I know how much you hate being interrupted during your human learning period.” He put his hand out, outstretched in a familiar gesture.\n\n“Thanks dad.” Cari hugged the offered finger, returning a rare smile of gratitude, before leaving. She nearly instantly dropped it, scowling at the door before she closed it behind her. Yes she loved her talks with him, but having to deal with two freezing incidents within a week was a little too much to bear. Opening a tear again, she was met with a stereotypical messy teenager’s room. Tyler Robinson, her mind supplied.\n\nThe current freezer. Said person was in their doorway, midway through dodging a wayward shoe thrown by a clear friend of his.\n\nAh yes, the old panic reflex. Judging by the lack of concentration or fear on his face... a clear accident, and no oddity nearby to explain the gained power. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she dragged him further into the room, and unfroze him. Tyler fell into a heap on the floor, and Cari sat calmly in a nearby chair.\n\n“Hello there, I’m Cari van Winkle, the current time unfreezer. Standard protocol says I must talk to the person responsible for time freezes to log you correctly in the incident report.”\n\n“What... what the fuck- oh shit, Chandler. What the fuck did you do?”\n\n“This was actually your doing, Mr. Robinson. Whatever you did to activate your powers, you froze time around the globe. Now. I’ll have to ask you not to do that again.”\n\n“Wait, I can freeze time? That’s sick! Why shouldn’t I?” Cari grit her teeth, baring them in a grimace crossed with a glare.\n\n“Because you freeze along with it, and do not possess any ability to move within this state. I do, as I am the current time restarter. I’ll reiterate, do not activate your powers.”\n\n“Okay man, Damn. I won’t. Who even are you, though? Like- besides your role and shit?”\n\n“You have no reason to know this information.”\n\n“Cmon, man! This is probably the coolest thing I’ll ever experience. One thing! I swear I’ll keep quiet.”\n\n“Your memories of this will be erased, along with your powers once a way to remove them is found.”\n\n“Fine. They seem useless anyway. So spill. Carrie, or whatever your name is.”\n\n“Fine then. You’re certainly an odd one. I am Cari van Winkle, daughter of Father Time, and you are the 5,125th case of time freeze I have rectified during my current twenty five years of being here on earth. Now then. I have done all that is needed, and it is recommended you go stand where you were to prevent illusions of teleportation.” She stated bluntly, opening her final tear and walking through to the sight of a bewildered Tyler, who thankfully took her advice when the shoe sailed over his shoulder a couple seconds later, not sure what had just happened besides an urge to not do something but it didn’t matter.\n\nBack in her cubicle, she sat down on the old swivel chair and sighed, hearing things move once again outside.\n\nCari’s eyes drifted to the clock.2:29 pm. She let out a sigh, not noticing the scowl on her face.\n\n“Idiot humans.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 400-500 words. Prompt: A genie's lamp is found by another genie" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Purple light swirled out of the lamp: \"You have found the lamp of Harun al Rashik III, High Genie of the West Desert. As a High Genie, I have the privilege of granting you five--\" the genie gestured his arms out wildly, revealing five milky pearls, \"--wishes. As the motto of a genie goes, your wish is my command!\"\n\n\"Hey Harun,\" said the one who found the lamp.\n\nThe purple genie Harun jumped away, his eyes wide.\n\n\"I lost my toothpaste, can you spare me some of yours?\" said Houda.\n\nHarun was looking Houda al Qagdad, High Genie of the North Desert. Though they both wore gilded bands on their heads, Houda wore a yellow branched velvet gown. His legs were crossgartered, and he wore long pointy shoes. Harun, on the other hand, wore a green toga and sandals.\n\n\"Houda, you have to stop coming to our lamps! Just use our IRC, we always have it open on our chromebooks,\" said Harun.\n\nHouda took a power stance and drank air through his nostrils noisily, then he expelled the air, as after a cool beverage. \"You know I prefer the wide world to the world wide web...Ahhhhh!\" Houda breathed as he soared into the starry Arabian night.\n\nHarun stood unimpressed at the bottom of the world, looking up at Houda dance unnecessarily. Harun heard a ding, and took out his laptop, which looked like a big book. Harun's eyes lightened up as single tear came out of the corner of his eye, and he said, \"Bless you Baz, you brilliant bastard. BAZDAQ is up 2%!\"\n\nHouda came down and said, \"That's not much...\"\n\n\"Yeah, but we've been in a recession for a while now. We're in danger of wishruptcy. This is a good sign.\"\n\n\"I prefer the sign of Taurus and Gemini,\" Houda said, staring longingly up at space, sniffing some more air into his lungs.\n\nMeanwhile, across the desert, Baz al Bazdaq, High Genie of the East Desert, wore a double breasted suit and some shades. The shades reflected the hot flames of the furnaces in his factory. \"Five hundred wishes next week, Derrick. Gotta keep 'em comin'. I've got a big client coming up,\" said Baz.\n\n\"Who's that?\" asked Derrick. Though he was but a goblin, Derrick had risen through the ranks of Bazdaq's Wish Emporium quickly. He wore a simple shirt and tie, but it was enough to give off an intimidating presence, even for a little goblin.\n\nHigh Genie Baz took off his sunglasses and wiped the clouds out with his coat. He put them back on and grinned, unbrushed yellow teeth showing. \"Sultan Abu Ja'far Abdallah ibn Muhammad al-Mansur of the Abbasids.\" Baz got on his bike and rode off into the arid sunrise, leaving a single burning trail in the sand." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: Upon reaching the level of interstellar travel we discover that the human race is woefully under-equipped to deal with any alien species in any capacity. It is explained to us, slowly, that Earth is the equivalent of a special needs classroom." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sat across the table from a hologram. I knew it was a hologram by the way it flickered and because they told me. I had no idea who was controlling it or what they looked like. I was the first diplomat from Earth and the aliens wouldn't even talk face-to-face. Or whatever they had.\n\nWe intercepted a signal from deep space two years ago. It was clearly an artificial signal. The world went crazy for a day or two after we confirmed that we are not alone in the universe. Then things mostly returned to normal for the vast majority of humanity. After all, just because aliens are out there doesn't mean we don't have to pay the rent or file TPS reports.\n\nWe sent signal after signal beamed in the direction of the first signal's origin and what we estimated its target was. We had entire power plants turned over for powering the tightly focused radio signal. The project started off with great fanfare and then, as these things do, the public's attention drifted long before we saw any results. This was setup as a government office however and the one thing government employees excel at more than anything else is maintaining their job. I heard stories of office setup to address an impending buggy whip crisis in the nineteenth century that were still going strong. So our little shout into the void project crept merrily along.\n\nThree months ago, we received a reply. It was short - almost terse. It took us several weeks to crack it but we finally figured out it was a time and a place along with a decryption key at the front. After much hand-wringing and back-room dealing, I was named as the Ambassador. The first Ambassador of Earth. A representative to the stars and the first to meet our galactic neighbors.\n\nI underwent a crash course in Astronautics. The time for the meeting was coming up closely and the location was partway between the Moon and Earth. It would take me almost two days of flying weightless to reach it. All the governments of Earth contributed to the mission since nobody had any kind of ship ready on such short notice. NASA even pulled an old Saturn V out of a museum to get me up there. I went with two professional astronauts who would handle all the driving. The press called it the world's most expensive Uber.\n\nWe flew. I puked. A lot. I probably would have died if Commander Rankin hadn't hooked me up to an IV. We met the ship exactly where and when it said. The ship is hard to describe other than \"alien\", though I'm sure you've seen the pictures sent back. It reached out with some kind of force field and gently pulled out capsule in.\n\nOnce we were in the bay, we felt gravity kick in and dropped to the floor. The hatch popped open and we found the whole bay was now pressurized. There was a lighted walkway with animated arrows. I assumed, correctly, that I was supposed to follow it. At the end of a short walk, I found myself in this tiny conference room staring at a hologram of a human. Not a particularly remarkable human. More like someone had said \"I want the most middle of the road boring face you've got\" and this is the result.\n\n\"Welcome to our ship. We are glad you could make it.\" The hologram spoke slowly and in short sentences. \"That was very brave.\"\n\n\"Uh, yes, thank you. Anyway, on behalf of Earth, welcome to our solar system. We hope that we can be friends.\"\n\n\"Oh no, I don't think that's a very good idea.\"\n\n\"Pardon?\"\n\n\"Friends. We can't be friends. We came here to ask you to stop shouting that message at our colony.\"\n\n\"Oh, um, yes. We can shut that off.\"\n\n\"Good for you!\"\n\nI wondered if aliens had a word for \"patronizing.\"\n\n\"Once that's off, we could setup a cultural exchange, perhaps? Maybe discuss a trade partnership.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not. That wouldn't work at all.\"\n\n\"But you haven't ever heard what we're offering.\"\n\n\"Well, that is true. But you don't have anything we want.\"\n\n\"How do you know that if you haven't seen it?\"\n\n\"We've been observing - sorry, we've been watching you for a long time. I'll try to explain simply. Your planet is a little ... slow. Backwards. Developmentally delayed.\"\n\n\"Are you calling my whole planet stupid?\"\n\n\"Yes - very good for following along!\"\n\n\"How can you say that? We have all sorts of technology. The Internet, electricity, MRI machines, nuclear weapons.\" Oops. It's something of a faux pas in diplomatic circles to bring up the fact that one has nuclear weapons on the first date. It's a bit unseemly.\n\n\"I know, you must be so very proud.\"\n\n\"You're patronizing me, aren't you?\"\n\n\"That's a very big word for you to use and you did it correctly. Yes, I am 'patronizing' you.\"\n\n\"But you still don't think we have anything worthwhile.\"\n\n\"No. Listen, you seem bright for a human so I'll take a little extra time. You don't have artificial gravity. That ship you came here in? I'm not even legally allowed to let you leave in because it's such a safety risk. I'll have to personally take you back to Earth. You don't have quantum computers. You don't have any ideas on how to travel faster than light. My goodness, you're still burning ancient dead plants for power in most of your advanced countries. You don't even have half the fundamental concepts you'd need for me to fully tell you just how backwards you are. You are literally too ignorant to know how stupid you are. Sorry.\"\n\n\"Then why the broadcast? The one we found two years ago?\"\n\n\"That was an accident. A child was playing with their first zarook -\" here whatever was translating lost its mind and made a sound like a cross between a squirrel being pushed through a garbage disposal and the Hulk pooping out an entire roll of sheet metal \"- and an actual radio signal slipped out.\"\n\n\"A child? That was a highly organized data stream. It had an enormous snout of power to reach across space. You're telling me it was some kid screwing around?\"\n\n\"He was grounded.\"\n\nI had never felt so dejected in my life. My whole species was reduced to nothing in a few short comments.\n\n\"Maybe you could help us? Teach us?\"\n\nI had never heard a laugh like that. I wouldn't have even know it was a laugh if the hologram hadn't tossed back its head in a traditional laughing posture.\n\nThe ride home was very quiet. I sat in the capsule with the two astronauts while the aliens brought us home. They put us down very safely and comfortably in Florida, just outside of NASA. I was dreading the report I would have to file and the inevitable follow-up questions. I briefly considering making up a story about how they were evil and were planning to invade. I'd get the whole world spun up to go fight the aliens. But then I realized if what the one aliens said was true, we wouldn't stand a chance. Hell, we'd probably kill ourselves before we even made it to their planet." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: When you get drunk, you go onto Amazon and go on drunken spending sprees. Every single time, the day that item ships, it ends up saving your life in some way. Your last spending spree involved some of the strangest items you've ever seen, and they just arrived at your house." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The bullet proof vest made sense after he received it. Peter just had to put it on when it arrived and forty five minutes later he survived the mugging that should've killed him. The stun gun made sense when he had gotten into a bar fight later in the night. While perplexing at first even the plain red shirt made sense when fucking Brian had gotten too drunk to drive and left him stranded in the shitty part of town. His walk home was pretty nice actually as he nodded at the other people standing on street corners as they nodded at him.\n\nThis was...well...this didn't make any sense to him. He had to stop getting blackout drunk and ordering random shit on amazon. It didn't bother him that the items somehow magically saved his life nearly every single time when they arrived. It had been happening so long that he simply just took it as fact that his drunken self was going to save him when he needed it.\n\nBut this thing. He was going to have to stop drinking so much and really take a look at his life. Was his drunken self really saving his life or was it just protecting him from his future drunken antics?\n\nPeter stared at the 55 gallon drum of lubricant. What in the hell was he going to do with a 55 gallon drum of lubricant?\n\nHe decided to leave the drum in his garage and ignore it. He went to work and nothing happened. He stayed home instead of going out drinking that night.\n\nNothing happened.\n\nThe drum reminded him that it was sitting in his garage every morning when he went to work and reminded him again when he drove the car into it every night. A week passed and nothing requiring a 55 gallon drum of lubricant ever appeared in front of Peter's bath.\n\nHe was tired the next day and had almost forgotten about the drum. There had been some particularly interesting documentary about extremophiles the other night and he had lost track of time. The drum hadn't reminded him of its existence that morning and he didn't notice it until the front left bumper of his Honda Civic caused it to tip over.\n\n\"Shit!\" Peter said to the drum of lubricant. Or at his car. Maybe at himself. He wasn't sure.\n\nHe got out of the car and looked at the pool of lubricant draining down into the street via his drive. Peter sighed and went to the tipped over drum. While attempting to pick it up his foot slipped and he landed in the continuingly growing pile of lubricant on his driveway. While he attempted to get up the lubricant created an effect similar to a bugs bunny cartoon where he continually slipped and put his hand back in the lubricant, then slipped again, then put his hand back down. The effort of it exhausted him quickly and he fell on his back again. He slid through the lubricant on the slightly tilted driveway, past his mailbox, and into the street.\n\nThe small Cessna crashed into his house as soon as he was able to sit on his butt. Nothing lit on fire, thankfully, as Peter was pretty sure the lubricant stretching from his former garage to his prone body in the middle of the street was flammable.\n\n\"Peter Wilkins?\"\n\nPeter turned around. A Fed Ex guy holding a flat envelope looked him, \"Yes?\"\n\n\"Sign here please.\" The Fed Ex guy held out a small tablet that Peter signed with a stylus the guy handed to him, \"Hope your day gets better. God dammit...\" He wiped the lubricant on his stylus on his shirt, leaving a oil stain on his shirt.\n\nPeter grabbed the flat package when it was handed to him and he opened it.\n\nInside was a letter congratulating him on a new insurance policy for the house worth three times as much as the house itself was worth. The monthly payment was ridiculous but he didn't think he would have to make any more payments.\n\nr/cawdor23" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: She smiled, as she asked. \"So... You know hypnosis? Could you use it to make me do stuff? Like... Sex stuff?\" She bit her lip, a blush already spreading over her skin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“So...you know hypnosis? Could you use it to make me do stuff? Like...sex stuff?”\n\nJessie bit her lip and a warm blush came over her. Matt scratched the back of neck and shrugged.\n\n“Yeah but I usually only do it with girlfriends who consent for course...”\n\nJessie lurches forward a little with a huge smile.\n\n“I guess you’re consenting then?”\n\n“Mhm. I love being bossed around...in the bedroom of course.”\n\n“You know you won’t remember anything you did while under hypnosis, right?”\n\n“Mhm, c’mon c’mon put me under!”\n\n“Ok calm down. How far do you want to go?“\n\n“As far as you want to make me. Once I’m under, I’m all yours.”\n\n“Ok...sit back.”\n\nJessie sits back against the chair, still smiling. Matt digs a watch out of a drawer and starts to wave it back and forth. Jessie’s eyes slowly close.\n\n“When I snap my fingers you will awaken and obey my every command...1...2...”\n\nHe snaps his fingers and Jessie’s eyes open. The zest for life that usually dominates her hazel eyes dims as her pupils shrink into an almost vacant stare.\n\n“Jessica?”\n\n“Yes master?”\n\nMatt smiles a little, a little relieved Jessie wasn’t too smart to be subdued.\n\n“You’re my willing servant correct?”\n\n“Of course master...your wish is my command.”\n\n“Why don’t you show me what’s under this cute button up shirt...do it slowly, tease me.”\n\n“Anything for you master.”\n\nShe slowly unbuttons the first few buttons of her work shirt to show off her cleavage. As Matt commanded she rubs her chest and leans forward a little to give him a better view. She stands up and unbuttons the rest.\n\nShe continues to tease, pushing her bra down ever so slightly and rubbing her nipples through the cotton fabric.\n\n“You have such lovely ti...breasts Jessica.”\n\n“Thank you master.”\n\nHe raises his hand to cop a feel but hesitates and puts his arm back down to his side.\n\n“Hm, what else shall we do...hmm let’s start by getting you out of those uncomfortable shoes and those tight jeans. “\n\n“Shall I tease you master?”\n\n“Of course my pet.”\n\nJessie nodded and kicked off her shoes. She turned around and shook her ass. Matt would be lying if he told her he never snuck a peek during work hours. She unbuttons her jeans and turns around. She slowly pushes the zipper down, exposing her underwear. Jessie reaches down and rubs her panties, her mouth hanging open a little as she teases herself. She turns around again to seductively push her pants, letting her ass pop out of them.\n\n“Such a nice round ass...perfect for spanking my pet. “\n\n“Do as you please master?”\n\n“Beg...actually why don’t you do it Jess?”\n\nOn cue she bends over a little and reaches back. She slaps her ass and bites her lip. Matt nods and spanks herself again. Another nod, another spank, another nod, another spank, another nod, another spank.\n\n“Ok pet...” Matt says as he takes a seat with his legs spread, “...crawl over to me, slowly, seductively.”\n\n“As you wish master. “\n\nShe gets down on all fours and slowly crawls towards him. She gets eye ;evil to the crotch of his jeans and rests her hands on Matt’s knees. She looks up at him with a mischievous grin.\n\n“What now master?”\n\n“T...stand up...”\n\nJessie stands up and Matt snaps his fingers. Her eyes close again briefly before they blink back open, her pupils back to size. She looks down at herself and then at a fully clothed and blushing Matt.\n\n“Is this how far you went?”\n\n“Yeah...I proved I could do it. That was fine.”\n\n“Matt you could’ve-“\n\n“No forget it. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll treat you to dinner.”\n\n“Mathew...”\n\n“…I’ll go start the car.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Hell wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for all the humans." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mark knew his daughter was different the say she was born, when rather than clawing out of the womb and through the chest, devouring organs as she passed them, Kitty came out through the anus. She'd taken little bites out of the intestines, just enough to get through, and when she emerged there wasn't a drop of blood on her. Instead, she was as brown as freshly churned chocolate. It didn't take long before Mark realized she was just as sweet.\n\nShe was chattering within a few days, as was usual, but she asked more questions than other spawn. \"Who is this we're eating?\" was one of the first, and after he explained that it was her mother, she exclaimed that her mother must have been lovely because she was delicious. Mark, who couldn't remember much about the female's personality, agreed. Later, it was \"Do you like it here?\" to which she was shocked to hear the answered no. \"I love it already. It's so warm! I'd like to look at it forever.\" After that, she'd started carving landscapes into the walls of their cave.\n\nWhen she turned two weeks old and was half grown, he gave her paint instead of the traditional whip. There were five colors– red, black, white, yellow, and blue. No one knew what he'd ground up for the blue, or how much it had cost him, and the neighbors gossiped about this for weeks. Mark and Kitty had seemed normal to the rest of them, but together they began to have uncomfortable realizations. None of them had ever seen Kitty show an interest in torture, and now that she was the only spawn on the street without a whip she wasn't likely to start experimenting. That she soon was painting other spawn's horns in exchange for rat skulls quieted them, but the other fathers encouraged them to stay away after they'd been painted. Soon Kitty was the go-to victim in torture practice when there wasn't a spider or goblin around. When Mark learned this he took a day off and hunted her peers, but he only caught two and nothing changed.\n\nKitty began leaving the town with her father each day, carrying the paint in a box she'd made from her mother's skull. Mark found that the paths he travelled every day were enjoyable when she was there collecting the sharpest obsidian she could find, or pointing out all the scorpions, or even sharing her thoughts.\n\nOne day as they were passing the gorge of lost souls, she looked down into it and commented, \"Hell wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for all the humans. Without the souls everywhere and all the things around to hurt them, we'd have more space, and we could do whatever we wanted with it. We could have a river running down there, lava or water. If it were water, perhaps some trees would grow.\"\n\n\"Trees?\" Mark stopped in his tracks, \"Who told you about trees?\"\n\nShe frowned, and put down her skull box so she could pick her nose. \"I'm not sure. Are they real?\"\n\nHe nodded gravely, \"There's a dead forest a few thousand miles from here, but the closest trees are aboveground.\"\n\n\"How close?\" Kitty's little red eyes were glowing more than usual, and Mark's darkened.\n\n\"Kitty Mangobbler, you know that only the highest ranking demons can go aboveground. You'll never go there unless Hitler himself gives you permission.\"\n\n\"I know!\" she smiled, and walked away from the gorge.\n\nMark didn't move. He'd heard stories of demons that were drawn to the surface, even some that lived there as outcasts. Were Kitty to be one of them, then what? In his daydreams she would paint the most hideous images in all of history, design nightmares, all of that. It had never occurred to him that she might look for beauty. He couldn't be known as the father of a treehugger!\n\nPerhaps he should just eat her now, or sell her to someone. If he waited a few weeks, he could rape her like he had her mother and start over with a more normal spawn. Hell, not so bad? What would be next, treating human souls like honored guests?\n\n\"Papa!\" she yelled, and held up something for him to see. He could tell even with the distance between them that it was a sharp chunk of obsidian. \"I'm going to make you club with ten of these sticking out!\"\n\nWell... maybe she didn't have to be eaten just yet. She had plenty of time to learn what was acceptable in their society. He smiled and picked up her paint, leaving the gorge and his worries behind." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: Humanity has developed a trade off: stay 25 forever but become sterile, or age until you die and be able to have children." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone was given a year to decide. At 25 you could decide to live forever at the cost of children, or live on and bring up a family with the consequence of death.\n\nRosemary stared at the clock, at 8am she had to go and present herself at the Life Centre. She had spent the last 364 days deciding whether she wanted to live forever and today was the decision date, the even of her 26th birthday. Rosemary was dressed and waiting for her house AI to tell her that her car had arrived and tried not to be nervous, the truth was she was still undecided.\n\n\"You're car has arrive Miss Greenbay\" said the silky voice of her AI.\n\n\"Thank you Blue\" she told the house and quickly left. Rosemary sat in the car as it drove her to the Centre, wringing her hands in anxiety. Too soon she arrived and was ushered into one of the comfortable rooms on the second floor.\n\n\"Now Miss Greenbay\" said the young doctor, an immortal. \"I see in your files that you've attended counselling and the workshops that show you the pros and cons of both life choices. You've also lived with both mortal and immortal families for 2 months each\" she said as she flipped through the file. \"It appears then you are still undecided?\" she asked. Rosemary nodded miserably.\n\n\"I'm sorry, i've really tried but i'm just not sure\" she explained.\n\nThe doctor leaned forward and held her hand,\n\n\"What is stopping you?\" she asked kindly.\n\n\"I've met immortals that regret it, and mortals that regret it. It seems whatever someone picks they yearn for the other. The immortals can't have children, but you also can't die, you will be alive for the death of the Sun, the Galaxy, even the universe! The mortals will have the joy of children but also the release of death. Mortals often live much more fully as they know they will die but they also fear death, and fear making connections with others because they will die.\" Rosemary explained in a rush, wanting to explain her thinking to the doctor.\n\nThe doctor nodded sagely. \"It is a very difficult decision, Regret is often the cause of depression in both mortals and immortals. Mortals only have to live with their decision until they die while immortals live with it forever.\"\n\nThe doctor picked up a coin and looked at Rosemary, \"heads, you live forever, tails you stay mortal\" she said. Rosemary nodded and watched with bated breath as the doctor flipped the coin high in the air and deftly caught it.\n\n\"As I flipped the coin, some part of you wished for it land on one over the other\" the Doctor said, \"which was it?.\"\n\nRosemary sucked in a breath.\n\n\"Heads\" she said with surprise. \"I wanted it to be heads!\"\n\n\"Okay\" the doctor said with a smile and put the coin in her pocket. \"That's what we needed to know\".\n\nRosemary went through the rest of the meeting in a daze as the Doctor explained the procedure. She signed the documents and let the doctor led her up to the third floor.\n\nThe stopped outside a door but before the Doctor opened it she leaned in.\n\n\"The death of the universe is so far in the future\" she said \"but you will have companions every step of the way.\" The doctor opened the door where a scary looking machine waited, along with another doctor, and nudged her inside. \"We may yet find a way to keep the universe alive, or even create a new one.\" she said with a smile.\n\nThe Doctor shut the door, leaving her with the new doctor. \"Okay Miss Greenbay\" said the new doctor, flashing her a smile. \"You just sit on the seat there while I set the machine up. The procedure doesn't hurt apart from when I put the IV's in so we can chat all the way through it.\" The man got to work putting an IV in each hand and connecting them to machines, along with clicking large parts of the machine in place around her body. As he worked they talked about careers, hobbies, thoughts about the future and stories about growing up.\n\n\"I've just completed a degree at university\" Rosemary told him, \"In environmental technology\"\n\n\"A very thoughtful option to take\" he said approvingly. \"Even though many of us can't die not all lifeforms have that choice and we need to keep the planet healthy for them, as well as us.\" he leaned forward so he could see her properly past the machines. \"I know a few immortals who have been up in the arctic, and although we can't die from it, its very uncomfortable to be cold and hungry. A few of them that were testing the limits of immortality and ended up going into a hibernative state from the cold!\" he said with a chuckle. He told Rosemary about other experiments immortals were doing as he started up the machines and distracted her with tales of electric shocks and drifting in space without oxygen (causing another hibernative state for the poor immortal involved). The liquid being pushed into her body felt pleasantly warm and made her feel a bit giddy but she knew it was making her sterile and stripping her of the right to die.\n\nEventually the procedure was done and the Doctor unhooked her from the machines and led her to another room to rest. Rosemary laid back and though to herself.\n\n'I can't die', the notion made her a little worried 'I could be tortured, ripped to pieces, put in prison forever... My body can't die but my mind could be driven insane by hundreds of things' she started to hyperventilate and the Doctor soothed her\n\n\"Don't think about all the things that can go wrong, think of all the things you'll see! other planets, stars being born and dying, how humans evolve, what we learn! We can fix bodies\" he said and then looked at her square in the eye \"and if we need to... we will find a way to die, if the time comes\".\n\n(There is so much you could add to a world like this. How society treats mortals and immortals, how certain disabilities might be seen when you could live forever, how people would treat each other, the laws and politics of Earth, having to think about the future in a different way because its no longer some abstract thing you'll never experience but an eventuality.)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are a top spy, you have kept your secret perfectly, how? Because you constantly brag and boast about it with such ego that people think you are full of it and do not believe you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Every casino had a special room saved for their ‘serious’ players. People who valued their privacy above anything else. Drug lords, mafia men, cartel head honchos, all the big wigs would come down to The Golden Oasis Casino to throw away the money they didn’t know what to do with. In this secret room, underground the real casino. Two men sat at a round table. \n\nOne had silver hair and various rings adorning his fingers, dressed in a fine white suit. The other was younger, much more unassuming. He wore his hair closely cropped, sporting the kind of suit that wouldn’t make him seem out of place in an accountant’s convention. \n\nHere though, in this gathering of resplendent sinners and vice peddlers, he stuck out sorely. No one paid him any attention though. It was just Santi. He was one of the regulars in the secret room; he was cool. Odd sense of humor though. Would always go on and on about he was a spy. Quite an odd fellow. But good company. The type of person who was always willing to lend an ear.\n\n‘I just don’t understand it!’ Niccolo said, his fingers drumming the table. ‘Somehow, the government has been able to stop all of my shipments, my assassinations, my human trafficking dead cold. It’s like they know everything I do before I even do it. Someone’s been leaking my plans.”\n\nSantino took a moment to rearrange his cards. ‘Oh yeah. All me, bud. Sorry.” \n\n‘Hm?’ \n\n‘I did tell you it was a bad idea to tell me all of your plans.’ Maybe he should keep playing for this hand. He felt like Niccolo was just bluffing. No way he had a good hand this time. ‘I’m an interpol spy. Kind of my job, bro.’ \n\nNiccolo blinked for a moment before throwing his head back, laughing. ‘Oh, Santi, my dear friend. Always joking around.’ \n\n‘Nope. I’m serious.’ Or maybe he should just fold. His hand wasn’t that good either. ‘Been working for them since college. I even have my ID here, see?’\n\nHe flapped open his wallet, showing the Italian crime boss his government-issued identification card. On the right-hand corner of it was the interpol logo, a picture of the globe with a sword sticking through it. \n\nNiccolo blinked slowly. ‘I can’t believe it.’ \n\n‘Yep. Sorry, bud. It’s nothing personal. Just-‘\n\n‘This is quite a forgery, Santino! I must know your supplier. The quality is impeccable. It looks just like the real thing.’\n\n‘That’s ‘cause it is the real thing, Niccolo,’ Santino said slowly. ‘The supplier is the government. I’m a spy for them. That’s why I’ve been asking you so much about your plans. Because I want to stop them.’\n\n‘Yes, yes, you are an international spy.’ Niccolo brushed him off. ‘Show?’\n\nSantino nodded. He had a pair King. \n\nNiccolo had a full house. \n\nThe mafia boss grinned, sweeping the chips over to his side. ‘Too bad you can’t use your powers of deduction for poker, eh?’ \n\nSantino sighed. ‘Yep, not really something they teach us in spy school. Which is a thing. I know this because I was there. For two years.’ \n\n‘One more hand then lets call it a day, eh?’ \n\nSantino thought for a moment. He could probably swing it. Eat a few dinners at KFC for the next week. No big deal. \n\n‘Fine. One more hand.’ \n\nSantino snapped his fingers and their dealer started shuffling. \n\n‘So how are the wife and kids?’ Santino asked. ‘I hear Alfonso’s been trying to expand his operation in Korea. Where’s his base now?’ \n\n‘Oh you know, Alfonso. Such a flashy boy. He’s looking at properties in Busan, but nothing final yet. Ricardo though! Now he’s been on a roll lately. Why just last week he-‘ \n\nSantino zoned out, taking a long sip from his whisky. Sometimes. It was almost too easy." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: There is a secret interplanetary pelt trade, heavily protested by advanced groups across the galaxy known as The Observers. You’re the best hunter in the Universe. The human skin is considered legendary rare, their planet is afforded protection by The Observers. You just located earth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The computer bleeped, rousing me from my rest. I rolled onto my feet, and padded across the sparse expanse of my spaceship to my control panel. This quadrant so far had been a dust-bowl for prizes, so any creatures to peddle off for a few more credits would be a welcome release from the drudgery I had faced.\n\nI pour myself a lark smoothie, as my machines chatter to themselves. 6 months on this trip. So far, two hyrademons lay in my hold, a worthy prize, but barely enough to cover the fuel run on this trip. The longer I spent out, the less I could enjoy Iro, when I return.\n\nThe machines finish chattering, and a single file spits of an orifice. I deftly grab it, and read it. I then read it again. It was only after running calibration diagnostics, and atmosphere test, I was entirely certain that what I just read was true.\n\nTerra Firma. Earth. Marked as a protected area, since the Observers began to crackdown on flesh trades.\n\nI wasn't unduly worried, besides I had run through other protected areas with no repercussions; as long as I had some patience, and didn't take anyone the dumb apes valued, so the Observers didn't have anything flash up from their probes.\n\nIt took several lunar cycles, but eventually I had my prize secured. Three humanoid shapes were shackled below. Scum of the earth, according to my lengthy research. I chuckled.. Earth. These beings were so primitive they still longed for planets, not the cool metal of space stations.\n\nAs I swung my craft around, and began inputting the coordinates for my next leap, everything shut down. The controls would not respond to my commands, and the thrum of the engine was invisible.\n\nAfter an agonising water, the door of my precious craft blew apart, and several insectoide creatures flitted through, one firing a blast of energy towards me, deflecting away my blaster I had trained towards the door. The other two rushed towards my hold.\n\nI started forward towards them, to be swept off my claws by a snigle wiry arm of the insectoide that disarmed me. \"You thought you could get away with it?\" Snarled the creature. I'm not even sure how it spoke, it was almost as if the thought of what he said appeared in my mind, emotions and all.\n\n\"You will now await my master, Grand Observer Tarkin\" The creature continued. I nodded meekly, thinking that today was my unlucky day, week and year all rolled into one. I watched with half-lowered eyes as my prizes were hauled back through the shadowy opening the Observer must've made.\n\nThud. Thud. I heard the Observer long before I saw him. I shuddered, expecting some demonic entity to be behind the sounds. Instead, I found myself grasping in surprise, before the sharp fangs of my guard silenced me.\n\nIt couldn't be. A primitive ape stood before me. Surely this a trick, a slave before the true master. He raised their hand, and I looked along the direction he was pointing, expecting to see the true power. Instead, all I saw was stars as his hand crashed against my mandibles. I recoiled to his touch, I had taken such care to not touch my prizes. While traders found them valuable, I could barely stand their visage, let alone their touch.\n\nThen he opened his mouth, and I couldn't believe the poetic nuance he delivered his mouth. How could such a primitive deliver such nuanced sounds?\n\n\"So, you thought you get away with stealing from my home world?\" asked the humanoid.\n\nI crinkled my brow, whatever this person was, surely he must be a mouthpiece for his master. \"I would like to speak to your master, he may change his mind when I show him how much those objects you have obtained are worth\"\n\nThe primitive chuckled, and answered me. \"Master? I answer to no one, you may know of my as the Observer, but I prefer the term the Paladin. I was the first to leave Terra, after seeing the brutality of the other races, it has been my life work to protect the rest from the horrors in the darkness of space\"\n\nI swallowed, and considered how to best approach this, \"So, if you chose to hide away your homeworld, surely you could let me waylay the searchers. For a price of course\"\n\nThis was the wrong statement to give the Observer. He drew himself to his full height, and sternly responded \"If you think I could let you waltz away from this meeting, you have been sorely mistaken. What's worse, you dare, you dare try to entice me into letting you go. The second I let you crawl back to your nest of vipers will be the second the Earth declares war on all interstellar species. Your craft, and you, will be never seen alive to anyone ever again. All the people you held captive will return, their memory foggy, but living a life a hundred times better than the life you have lived.\"\n\nWith that he withdrew a silvery baton, and began striking me until my carpace gave way, and my life force began ebbing away. With my last fading thought I turned my attention to a photo I kept attached to my bedchamber.\n\nMay you find Earth, Khan, and end it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: An American superhero tale that is not set in New York, LA, San Francisco, Washington DC, Chicago, etc." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The shanty stood isolated in the Texas desert, the nearest sign of civilization being the border wall some distance to the south. Outside, a horse adorned in brightly colored markings fed from a trowel. It was the third unmarked building the government agent had found today.\n\nAs he brought his black SUV to a stop, gunshots rang out from the shack in rapid succession. The first round pierced a front and back tire, flattening them instantly. The second went straight through the car's dashboard, destroying its electronics. The third shattered the windshield and pinged the badge concealed in the agent's jacket pocket. It was painful, but the kevlar he was wearing prevented it from breaking the skin. The gesture was not unexpected. This was who he was looking for after all.\n\n\"Are you dead?\" An old man's voice called out from the lean-to. The horse let out a neigh, unphased by the gunfire.\n\nThe agent slowly stepped out from his vehicle and replied. \"I don't believe your intentions were to kill me, sir.\"\n\n\"Fuck my intentions, I've still got you in my sights.\"\n\n\"You don't have to lower your weapon if that's what makes you feel comfortable. I'm with a very influential organization-\"\n\n\"You're with the government, aren'tcha? You can't stop me from helping these people. What's stopping me from putting more holes in you than that dammed fence down there?\"\n\n\"On the contrary,\" the agent slowly raises his hands in the air, then with equal speed produces the ruined badge in his pocket. \"I'm interested in helping you help more people, Ranger.\"\n\nThe Ranger. At least, that's what he's known as in the states. The immigrants he helps cross the border call him many names, painting him as more of a savior figure than a vigilante at war with the United States government. His calling card is no doubt his unrivaled effectiveness with firearms and sympathy for those escaping from a drug-war-torn Mexico. But if the stories are true about him taking down whole fleets of border patrol single-handedly to protect those who can't protect themselves, then it's reasonable to believe he has the potential to become a superhero.\n\n\"Stay where you are.\"\n\nThe Ranger removed his rifle from the slot he shot at the agent from. The door to his shanty swung open, almost falling off its hinges. He was an older gentleman with a potbelly and scraggly beard in nothing but his underwear. His rifle, a dusty lever-action, was relaxed to his side, still aimed at the agent.\n\n\"I apologize for catching you at in inopportune time, but we are in need of all the assistance we can get.\"\n\n\"Apology denied. So are they. Now get out of here.\"\n\n\"You see, Mr. Ranger, by our estimates, you've escorted thousands of illegal aliens across the border since you began your career here. While that is no small number, we believe you have the potential to help millions. Perhaps even save the world. By teaming up with our organization, you'll be able to work with other heroes against massive global threats. You'll have a generous salary, and all your crimes will be forgiven so long as you continue to report for duty, wherever and whenever that may be. You will, of course, have to move to our headquarters in New York City.\"\n\nThe Ranger pursed his lips and nodded. \"Illegal aliens, huh? Is that all these people are to you?\"\n\n\"I mean no offense, sir. But you merely guard them as they cross the border. What happens to them after that, you don't seem to be concerned. Would you like to hear the number of many of them end up trapped in underpaid labor? Fall into a life of crime or substance abuse? End up deported anyway? I assure you, you are not helping as many people as you think you are.\"\n\nDuring the agent's speech, the Ranger had went back inside his hut to retrieve a cigar which he was now smoking, gun resting in the bend of his arm.\n\n\"So, Mr. Suit, who'd you have to abandon to get your job?\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"What sacrifices have you made to 'save the world'?\"\n\n\"Well, I, uh... I've worked hard. Went to law school. Then was accepted for this position of scouting and managing superheroes.\"\n\nThe Ranger saddled and mounted his horse. \"You're no 'superheroes'. You'd let these people die under the government's cruelty so you can protect yourselves.\"\n\nHe tossed his cigar into his shack and rode up to where the agent stood. \"You aren't saving the world. You're sacrificing it. Now walk.\"\n\nSuddenly, the tiny building exploded in a plume of fire, knocking the agent to the ground. When he got up, the Ranger was gone. It was a long walk back to Houston." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: The princess has fallen ill. The king has invited many physicians, healers, shamans and quacksalvers, but none could cure her. Until a strange man came limping into the castle, leaning on a walking stick and constantly swallowing small white pellets from a strange bottle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The king watches from the ramparts of his castle.\n\nA man with a cane and a man wearing a white lab coat cut through the crowd gathered below the castle. Behind them, their three companions follow.\n\nThe man in the lab coat is consulting a chart. The man with the cane has the distinct look of being there against his will, yet he also seems to be the leader. The king can spot a man who is respected by his peers. The king can also spot a man who doesn’t want to be there. As the king watches, the man reaches into his pocket for an orange vial and extracts something which he quickly thereafter swallows.\n\nDown in the courtyard the man in the lab coat reads from the chart: “19-year-old female. Symptom onset a month ago. She complained of headaches, chills, and constant fatigue. She had her first seizure 2 weeks later.”\n\n“Why are there so many guards?” the man with cane seems to have not heard him, as he is peering at the crowd around them.\n\n“Well, she’s the king’s daughter,” the dark haired man in the lab coat answers as they enter the castle proper.\n\n“This seems like a superfluous amount of weaponry for one princess.”\n\n“The people think she’s a witch.”\n\n“That does explain the mob outside.”\n\n“Initial treatment consisted of willow bark teas and bone marrow broths infused with- I have an extensive list of herbs used,” the man with the lab coat continues.\n\n“Yep, that’s what she needed.”\n\nHe flips a page: “They tried draping her body in the skin of a donkey. It’s a common treatment for rheumatism.”\n\n“I wonder if Cuddy would let me try that out on a patient. Purely for science.”\n\n“They’ve tried leeches and bloodletting,” continues Wilson not taking the bait.\n\n“Oh the times I’ve wished I could blood-let a patient or two in the clinic. Just one lawsuit would probably get me out of clinical hours for years,” quips the man with the cane. His voice is lighthearted, but Wilson can tell it has actually crossed his mind.\n\n“Yes, between that and the donkey skin, I’m sure the ABMS would revoke your license. Which I’m frankly surprised they haven’t.”\n\n“Well, this was a forced vacation they told me I had to take a holiday from Princeton for a while, following the senator incident.”\n\n“And who could forget the senator incident. Following the seizures, she began to suffer auditory and visual hallucinations,” Wilson continues flipping another page of the chart.\n\n“She heard voices speaking to her. She answered back in tongues. The voices told her to kill the castle physician whom they said was poisoning her. It took 6 guards to restrain her after she leapt at him with a knife. The physician called in the priest. The priest quickly came to the assumption she was possessed by a demon and performed an exorcism. It didn’t go well. For the priest.”\n\n“Aaand, we get to the good stuff. Why didn’t you start with the exorcism?” The man with the cane is finally giving his full attention.\n\n“Currently she is sedated with a brew of opium, hemlock juice, and red wine,” finishes Wilson as they reach the princess’s chambers.\n\n“Now we’re talking. See if you can finagle some of that brew, that damn plane ride reaped havoc on my leg.” The man with the cane pulls an orange cylinder from his pocket and screws off the cap. He deposits a white circular pill on his palm, considers briefly and adds a second before popping both in his mouth and swallowing.\n\nThe king approaches them.\n\nHe is bedecked in a purple and gold robe, but wears no crown. There are bags under his eyes, and his face is lined with worry. His brow is heavy with responsibility and dark thoughts. His shoulders are broad, and the sword he wears at his hip isn’t for show. He moves with the grace of a warrior, and the scar that runs down his cheek was a firsthand witness to his valor. But, beneath the wars and the duty, he is simply a father concerned for his one and only daughter. She’d be his princess even if he had no land or title. She was plainly and simply, his world. And he would do anything in his power to save her.\n\nHe welcomes the party to his home and promises a grand feast in the evening. Then he leads them into his daughter’s room.\n\n“She has suffered much in this last month,” he begins. \"It started with a mere fever and ague and the discharge of rheum.”\n\nThe blonde haired companion of the man with the cane shifts suddenly as if something clicked in his mind.\n\n“Then came the demons,” the king continues. “She was plagued by visions and horrible tortures. She cries out in her sleep and screams in her waking hours. Nothing my physician did could help her. The priest… well the priest sits in a cell and is lucky not to be nailed to a cross instead. Neither shamans from the dark lands to the East, nor sorcerers from the sands to the south could remedy her ails. You are my last hope, sir. They tell me you are physician of unrivaled renown. If anyone can save her, you can.”\n\n“The shaman didn’t perform an MRI or CT scan by any chance, did he?” asks the man with the cane.\n\nThe king shakes his head slightly confused.\n\n“Your castle physician wouldn’t have kept any of that blood he let for lab testing?”\n\nAgain the king shakes his head, bemused now. He can recognize the disdain in this one for what he considers witchcraft. The king has begun to agree, these sorcerers and bush doctors know nothing.\n\n“Well, I’m going to need some blood to start.” And with that the man with the cane turns, and leaves the room. The king’s councilors are aghast at the disrespect. The king however looks at the receding figure and smiles. This man is the one I can feel it, he thinks to himself, he will save her.\n\nIn the hall the rest of the party has caught up to the man with cane.\n\nThe blonde haired man, unable to contain himself, bursts out: “He mentioned rheum that sure sounds like-”\n\n“If you say lupus I’ll have you executed. They do that here I saw a guillotine on the way in,” answers Dr. House." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A fly caught in a spider's web begins to explain his whole life story peice by piece. How will this change the spider's mind?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Wait!” cried the fly. “My name is Harold!” The spider ignored and kept approaching. Harold shivered his wings as hard as he could, yet, he remained stuck in the webbing. “I was born on-on a- an apple. I think it was an apple. You ever seen an apple; big shriveled brown things? My mother birthed me and my 800 siblings two weeks ago on one.\n\n“During my first larval stage I slithered off the stem of the apple. I fell onto the ground, far away from my brothers and sisters. My mother was long gone, fly mom’s they, they don’t stick around. What about spidermoms? Do spiderm-….. Well, I heard that some animals, maybe just the bigger ones, but some of their moms stick around to- I don’t know. But, the point is, I didn’t have anyone to help me find my way back, you know?\n\n“So, I crawled through the muck, searching for someone, anyone. Along the way, I got hungry, so I started munching on things. Well, it turned out that I can pretty much eat anything, so that’s a big plus. You ever try eating poop? You might like it. I mean if you ever get sick of eating- uh…” The spider picked up Harold, who kept speaking. As Harold rambled on, the spider begins to wrap Harold up, starting from the bottom.\n\n“Oh, so, I was in my third larval stage at this point, but all of a sudden, I get this heck of an urge to stick my face into the first bit of food I can find. Well, I was thinking the same thing; I can see it on your face. Well, what do you know? I find myself a big old hunk of an orange and I just crawl right on in. Suddenly, my body starts to get a little hard. I’m not the squishy piece of spaghetti I used to be. Now, I’m more like a big ol’ piece of rice. Well, I can’t move much, so, I figure I’ll take a nap.\n\n“And wouldn’t you know it, when I woke up, I looked like this. Well, about a week younger, mind you. I didn’t have the wrinkles I do, now, heh… Well, anyway, I popped out and here I’ve got these here wings on my back. Ain’t that a surprise, I thought. Wings! You never know what you’re going to end up after the pupae stage, I hear. I heard of this guy, Joe. He was hanging out with a crowd who didn’t like moths too much. Guess what he popped out as. No kiddin’.\n\n“So, I give myself a good kick off with my wings. I get some good height, I see some sights, I have a few laughs for a day of two. But, then, bam. Day three, I fly into an open window and get caught in a house. This house. We’re in a house, in case you didn’t know. Were you born indoors? They have cats here. Do you know how hard it is to get past cats?\n\n“It’s warm in here, yeah. Nice supply of food. But, it’s dangerous in here. As, well, as you can see. So, I’m just starting up lunch, when I feel the vibrations of that cat coming around the corner. I’m mid vomit on last night’s beef and already the cat’s spotted me. So, I do a simple twist and loop, evade the cat, do a little tumble and then, I see the window’s open! I’d have to go past the cat one more time, but it’s worth the shot, I think. I’ve been stuck in here for days, I’m not going to die and old fly in a house.\n\n“I decide to fly high, away from the cat. I’m hugging the corners, when suddenly bam. I’m stuck in- in the most beautiful piece of work I’ve ever seen. Really, this is just a masterpiece. I’m surprised we’ve never met before, by the way. But, you don’t seem to get out much... No? Silent type? Well, anyway… I was just on my way out, if you could just, kind of, you know… I Mmm mmmmmf mgmmmmm mmf fmmfmfmf………………..”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: As head of a 100 person operation examining what you believe is crashed alien technology. Every morning your AI gives you updates on every crew member’s health. Today it showed 101 people. The problem? You’re 10,000 feet below sea level in a submarine, and the manifesto of the crew was deleted." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Something wasn’t right. The crew numbered 100 not 101. Confused and slightly irked I opened the code dialog box and began to dig through, skimming over the rainbow of gibberish for something that was not meant to be. A tall order in most cases, but I had a feeling the sensors had double counted. It had happened before but had quickly righted itself with a simple error message. Double count on cadet 98 or whoever. Not today.\n\nThe 101 person had stuck around for a while and none of the crew pinged twice. I sipped my coffee and leaned back while scrolling through the long list of code. A slew of statements filled with possibilities and situations. As I watched the code slowly go up I began to see something happening. Before my eyes code was being written. I quickly sat forward and watched in wonder as statements arose with a speed incomprehensible to human fingers. Not good. I quickly swiveled around to the server room and began to pull the cables to the system. Better to cut it off then wait and see.\n\n“Captain we have a problem. Our firewalls have been breached and our codes are being tampered with.” I glanced over my shoulder to check for the error message that said the monitoring system had gone off line. The message box sat in the corner yet the code box remained active. “Fuck.” I quickly began to pull more cables. How had malware gotten on board?\n\n“How?” The captain's voice snapped over the whir of server fans.\n\n“Not sure. Trying to corral it. Might have to pull more things offline.” The code moved fast, another dialogue box popping up before my eyes. Super not good. I watched in stunned horror as my entire system began to be rewritten. “Captain we need to go dead.” I moved back into my server and began to quickly disconnect everything. No one was burning my systems not today.\n\n“What!” I could hear his stomps over the com line, coming for me most likely.\n\n“If we don’t go dead, the code will spread. It’s spread at an alarming rate as is.” I reached behind a stack and grabbed a handful of cords and pulled, shutting the whole stack down in one go. Around me the sounds of engines and systems shutting down began. A gentle whirr that groaned off into a hum. I pulled out the last cords and stood, pausing. Above the lights began to dim switching to the red emergency lights. As long as the malware hadn’t made it into the main operating system we’d be good. I could rewrite everything else. Not that I wanted to but it’d have to be done.\n\nI told myself to breath, finding I had held my breath as around me everything began to go quiet. We were dead in the water ten thousand feet below the surface. The sensation left me unnerved. Didn’t help when the Captain kicked my door in. I slowly peaked my head out of the server room.\n\n“Explain now,” he stormed in front of me, trapping me in the very small room.\n\n“An unknown code had started to rewrite our systems. I couldn’t stop it by shutting down the affected system and it had begun to travel. If I hadn’t pulled everything it could have gotten into our operating system-”\n\n“Captain, come in.”\n\nI glanced to the Captain's com then back to his face.\n\n“Go ahead Dr. Garcia.” he leaned an arm on the door frame and glared at me.\n\n“Why have the systems shut down we don’t have enough back up power to keep the foreign craft going. When will the power be back?”\n\n“Shortly.” The Captain gave a final stern look and pushed off the doorway. I watched him leave before letting out a sigh and staring at the system. It wasn’t safe yet to turn everything back on. But Dr. Garcia would need power. The whole reason we were stuck under water was for her research. Yet I hadn’t a clue where the code had come from. It couldn’t have come from the ufo could it? No way alien technology used the same language as we did. Binary maybe. Maybe.\n\nWherever it had come from I set the worry aside and began to bring the essential systems online watching my monitor for the rogue dialogue boxes. So far so good. I sat down at my monitor and began to go through the system that I could see. No outside code had gotten in and the system hadn’t burned. Though I doubted the life monitors could have the same said.\n\nI continued the slow process of bringing everything back up. It all came online easily with the code nice and healthy. Except for the two systems it had touched. To be safe I used a grounded circuit separate from the system. The code had all but been obliterated leaving me clueless as to if anyone onboard had become hurt, or how they had handled the shut down. Bound to have been one or two panic attacks. Nothing like feeling the sub die around you.\n\nAs I delved through the code I realized the 101 person hadn’t been a reading error. A new life monitor had gone online. Only then did the code start to change. Seemingly in an attempt to erase the new life monitor. In the attempt it had wrecked the whole system deleting all the crew's monitors. We had been under the water for almost a month. No way we had a stow away. Unless, espionage. The most trusted indeed. Seemed someone had tried to usurp that. A rogue life monitor would allow someone to access everything anonymously.\n\n“Captain. I think we might have either a new person onboard or someone who is tampering with the system.” I sat back and sighed. The carnage of my beautiful code. It had taken me months to write the system alongside Dr. Garcia and now it all lay in a heap of gibberish.\n\nI tapped my fingers on the desk and checked my com. “Captain do you copy?” The green light blinked innocently up at me. Nothing. I took a breath and steeled myself before turning to look at my main monitors. They were as I had left them. “Captain?” I waited again, tendrils of fear slowly twisting out of my gut. Merely a delay. He was probably still with Dr. Garcia. Nothing to be worried about. Nope.\n\nPanic got the better of me and I rushed to my main monitor and pulled up the com system quickly scrolling through the code until I found the one for mine. Online, strong signal. I pulled the com off my chest and looked at the small little circle. “Captain can you hear me?” I watched the green light, heart rising steadily into my throat. More silence. I took a breath and held it. There was always walking to the Captain, but my systems. If the rogue code came back while I was gone looking for him. I didn’t want to dwell on it.\n\n“Captain?”\n\nA hand clamped over my mouth and pulled me back." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: “You ask me, death itself, to resurrect you just to finish your D&D campaign?! That’s not an emergency, that’s the farthest thing from an emergency that’s.....that actually looks like fun...”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nick sat slumped on his chair with wide eyes, breathing heavily and sweating from every visible pore from his body as he witnessed Death revert back to his normal self. Normal might not have been the right word, but it was definitely normal compared to what had just transpired.\n\n“Sorry about that,” Death started as he straightened his tie, “usually I don’t get this angry.”\n\nNick slowly sat back up. The young man sporting a Minecraft hoodie wiped the sweat off his brow.\n\n“That’s alright,” he replied sheepishly.\n\n“Just so I understand correctly,” Death said as he leaned forward, putting his elbows on his desk, “you want me to resurrect you, so you can finish your game of Dungeons and Dragons?”\n\n“...Yes,” Nick quietly muttered.\n\n“You want ME, the one who rules over the dead, to grant you LIFE, so you can finish a GAME?” Death said slowly, but increasingly more hostile. His hollow eyes, which normally had two tiny spheres for eyes, started to burn intently as they went from bright blue to dark orange.\n\n“I mean if that’s alright with you, of course,” Nick replied hesitantly. He started to sag back into his chair, fearing he would witness the same thing as he had a few minutes ago, “it’s just that we finally have a good group together, we’re making great progress and it would really suck if I had to stop playing because I died. I finally found a consistent group to play with!”\n\nDeath sighed deeply, his eyes returning to the two blue-like spheres.\n\n“Alright. I’ll consider it. Tell me more about this so-called Dungeons and Dragons,” Death conceded. He snapped his fingers and a laptop appeared before him with the typical Windows start-up jingle. With his other hand, he twirled in the air, producing a pair of reading glasses.\n\n“You wear glasses?” Nick asked.\n\nDeath sighed and placed an hourglass on his desk next to his laptop. “You have 5 minutes to explain the concept of Dungeons and Dragons to me. If I don’t like your explanation I will have you escorted to the land of the dead.”\n\nNick gulped and took a deep breath. “Well, DnD, short for Dungeons and Dragons, is a role-playing game. You pick a race and a class, and each race and class will have different abilities you can use during and outside of combat.”\n\n“That sounds incredibly fun,” Death replied drily, “next thing you’re going to tell me is that because this is a role-playing game you can decide whatever you want to do in the game.”\n\n“Yeah,” Nick responded with widened eyes, “yeah that’s it exactly. Have you played DnD before?”\n\nDeath looked up from his screen with a stare that screamed murder. He pointed at the hourglass.\n\n“Right. Well, you are correct Mr. Death, because it’s a role-playing game, there’s almost no limit to what you can do in the game.”\n\n“How do you decide what to do in the game then?” Death questioned, making some notes on his laptop.\n\n“We use dice.”\n\n“Dice?”\n\n“Dice! There’s a few of them with different functions, but the one we use the most is the D20, a 20-sided dice.”\n\n“A 20-sided dice will determine your actions in the game?” Death asked skeptically.\n\n“Yeah, that’s a bit difficult to explain. Could you produce one right now? I could show you how it works,” Nick said as he leaned in closer to the desk, “think of a normal 6-sided dice, but…well, 20-sided.\n\nDeath stared Nick dead in the eyes. He flicked his index finger in the air and a D20 puffed into existence. “This?”\n\n“Perfect!” Nick exclaimed happily while picking up the dice. He weighed it in his hand and fiddled around with it for a bit and nodded, “yeah, this is a good one.”\n\nDeath tapped the hourglass, showing Nick was slowly running out of time.\n\n“Okay, so, the D20 will determine actions, such as whether or not you will actually hit an enemy, but it is also used to do roleplaying. Let’s say my character wanted to convince you to do something, I could roll something called a ‘Persuasion Check.’\n\nDeath nodded.\n\n“So, I would roll the dice. The higher I get, the higher my chances are of succeeding,” Nick continued his explanation, “and then I get to add modifiers and things like that, but I’d need more time to explain it.”\n\n“Who decides if you succeed or not?” Death curiously asked.\n\n“The dungeon master, the one who guides the story,” Nick explained.\n\n“Interesting. What happens if you roll a 20?” Death asked as he slowly closed his laptop.\n\n“We call that a nat20. It’s where your character will always succeed in glorious fashion. The opposite would be a nat1, where the character immensely fails his action,” Nick explained while showing those two sides of the dice.\n\n“I see. Okay. Try it on me,” Death then suddenly suggested.\n\n“Try what?” Nick asked.\n\n“Roll a persuasion check on me, to persuade me to let you live,” Death said while gesturing towards the dice in Nick’s hand.\n\n“It…doesn’t work like that,” Nick said slowly.\n\n“Why not? Is it because there is no Dungeon Master present?” Death said a bit saddened.\n\n“One of the reasons, yeah, but also because we miss a setting. We miss characters. We miss, well, almost everything I can’t explain within how many minutes I have left,” Nick gestured grandly with his arms.\n\nDeath cocked his head to the side, leaning back into his chair. He took off his glasses and looked at the little hourglass. He pointed his finger at it and it puffed into smoke.\n\n“Alright. You’ve intrigued me. I wish to spectate a game,” Death said as he crossed his arms.\n\n“Great, so you’ll resurrect me?” Nick asked expectantly.\n\n“Fine,” Death groaned, “but only until your game has finished and only if I get to join your game. Shouldn’t take that long.”\n\nNick decided to keep his mouth shut about that last part. The next day, he met up with his friends and he introduced someone new." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A \"Pointless Powers Club\" has its members discuss how their powers ruin their awesome origin stories of how they got them" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Today was the beginning of the second semester of Uni during my second year. Of course, to get to this point I had to talk to about 10 different people because apparently one of my courses didn’t exist, which was just great. But, a new semester means a semi-new me (in both temper and subjects) - once the issue was resolved I let go of any anger.\n\nSoon after the semester starts we have our market day, and I noticed one of the stalls was new. It was titled, ‘PPC’, and their flyers had pictures of superheroes on them. Not the popular ones, just stock image ones. But hey, they were pretty funny. As the guy running the stall finished talking up with a laughing fifth year, he turned to me.\n\n“Hi! Would you be interested in the Pointless Powers Club?”\n\nI gave him a small smile. “Sure! What’s it about?” Usually people go to the variety of stalls to get a little show bag of sorts. To get these bags, you had to let the person on the stall try to sell their idea to you - I myself had recently gotten a strong disinfectant from the vet stall. The lady running that one mistook me for a Vet student even though I’m most definitely not. The stall this guy was running had no show bags but I hadn’t realised that until he’d drawn me into a conversation.\n\n“We’re a group of people who have gained superpowers but they suck compared to how we got them.” He proclaimed proudly. Immediately my mind went to the suggestion that this was a role play group. This was unprecedented, as we are not an arty-type campus. Unless you considered team building to be art.\n\n“That sounds cool actually!” I say politely. I really am interested now despite the fact I’m not getting a show bag.\n\n“Great! You can take one of our flyers and attend our next meeting on Wednesday!” He exclaimed. “My name is James, I hope to see you there...?” He paused, obviously wanting me to say my name.\n\n“Vera.” I said, holding out my hand. He took it, shook it, and then moved on to the next person taking a gander at the stall.\n\nEventually, next Wednesday rolled around, and the time on the flyer stated 4 - 5pm. This was great, since my last class on a Wednesday ended at 2. So, walking in to the building ‘with the red doors’ at 4pm, I came across a simple classroom set up with chairs going around in a circle. I wasn’t the first one there, though it seemed I wasn’t going to be the last. The other people there were James and a darker skinned girl.\n\n“Vera!” James called, inviting me to sit down. I took the one opposite him and the girl.\n\n“Hi Vera, I’m Jessi.” Jessi greeted me happily.\n\n“Hi! You already know my name it seems.” I said, probably a little awkwardly. This was actually decently uncomfortable. Not because of the people within or anything, but just because I was one of the first there and knew neither of them.\n\n“So what’s your origin story and power?” Jessi asked. This must be establishing a backstory. Ok, no big deal, I role play online all the time, real life shouldn’t be too hard.\n\n“Uh, I was thrown off the edge of a cliff by someone who wanted my family dead. I survived somehow by using my intelligence and grabbing a tree root, but the intelligence...it only works if I shout a certain phrase, so I can’t even use it in exams, since it only works for like a split second.” There, that sounded suitably pointless despite the cool story behind it.\n\nThe two others in the room gave me empathetic nods. “I can transform into a paper clip.” Jessi said. “Of course, I got this was by being trapped in a metal factory and having to crawl my way out from all different types that were contaminated by a strange pink rust.” And then, as if to prove this, she promptly turned into a paper clip.\n\nUh. Hey. Um, quick question.\n\nWhat the actual heck?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: \"I made her love me.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Or rather I made her, and she loved me.\n\nShe originally didn't exist, except in my mind. It was in my sleep that I first saw her and immediately my heart was enthralled. She was prefect in all ways I could ever imagine. She would dance with me in my dreams every night. Under the moon and all stars, we would dance, staring into each other's eye full of love. We would spend hours sitting on the banks of the river, watching the lanterns float by. When dawn would come, we would say our farewells, and bid adieu until night fall arrived again. Every night was heaven.\n\nStill it was not enough. I desired to be with her day and night, to enjoy her company and kindness under the warm rays of the sun along with the starry night skies. I wanted to be with her always. I told her of this when I went to sleep, she agreed instantly. I wanted to share my world and she wanted to see it desperately. And so, I set my to a task. I purchased a massive piece of canvas and paints. I immediately set forth on my self appointed task, stopping only for sleep and food.\n\nI painted each detail of her exactly, I wanted her to be true to herself. Nothing was too much. Every hair, I painted on. I got the hues of her viridian eyes perfectly. Her pale hair shined in the sun I painted. She was smiling at me, for that was what I loved most about her.\n\nWhen I finished, I stood there, waiting. I did not know what I expected. The painting did not moved. It was an inanimate object. I kneeled in front of that painting of my love for hours, hoping, praying. My vigil continued into the night, with me, staring up at her beautiful, smiling image. I wept. Tears flowed down my face and I hung my head in shame. I had failed her. I could not share my world with her. Giving into despair, I let exhaustion claim me. She did not come to see me that night. I did not blame her, for I had always been a failure. She was gone forever.\n\nA crash in the kitchen tore me from my nightmare. Falling out of my bed, I half landed on my floor, my legs still tangled in the sheets. Another clang of pots and pans sounds out. Someone was robbing my house. I leap up to go deal with the sound when I halted mid stride. Standing in the doorway was her. She was standing in a shift made of white linen, and her hair was gathered over her shoulder. She was looking at me with eyes so full of love. Amazed, I turn my head to look over at the painting, the one I spent so many hours on. She was not in the painting, only the landscape behind her remain. I return my gaze to her.\n\nTears flow down our eyes, tears of joy and love. We stand there, immobilized smiling and laughing at this miracle. It is only then do we realize we are only thirty feet apart. We run to each other. I grab her and twirl her around in the air laughing. We hug. She has the smell of pine needles and mountain meadows in her hair. We stay embraced for what seems like ages and we finally break off to look into each other's faces. Hers is the face of an angel.\n\n\"I love you Helena.\" She smiles and brushes aside an errant lock of hair on my head. She leans in, as if to tell a secret. In a whisper voice she speaks \"And I love you Ronan.\" My lips meet hers, and we are lost in the touch of one another. She is more than I have ever deserved." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: \"Excuse me, ma'am.\" She looks perplexed, \"Who are you calling ma'am?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Checkout line 8. The cashier, Dahlia, had been on the register allfuckingday. Picked up one from lazy Sarah, what an asshole, she didn't even need the job, because her parents paid for everything she needed. At least it was more money. Dahlia needed that shit. Rent had taken an unexpected leap upwards after D'Angelo left.\n\nOn automatic, Dahlia scanned the items, put them into the bags -heavy first, yes, and the square stuff together where possible, of course, double bag that one because it'll be too heavy. Swipe, no wait, you need to wait for the -yeah, ok. Sign. Just click the yes. It was a script. Dahlia had written more complex code in her sleep.\n\nSwipe. Beep. Swipe. Beep. \"Yeah, it's not ringing up, hang on.\" Swipe. Beep. \"Here's your change.\"\n\nCrash, clatter and the customer went down. It was pretty spectacular, actually. They had decided to carry two heavy bags in each hand, the bring-your-own reusable kind, and as their foot slipped out back behind them, all four of the bags were swung in front of the customer as they tried to catch themselves. Instead, there was a sickening crunch. That was the eggs, judging by the yellow splatter, and, yes, Jerrica had forgotten the fucking wet floor sign. New script.\n\n\"Oh no, I'm so sorry!\" Dahlia even managed to put some passion into it. She hadn't been the one to mop, but Carey wouldn't give a fuck, especially not in front of the customer. He was a) creeping on Jerrica and so was trying to put her in his debt, and saving Jerrica's job (with an added \"but I could...\" for maximum pressure) would work real well for that, b) would pick the closest target to menace anyway, and c) saw yelling at employees as a form of showmanship. If she could get the customer up and out the door before he found out, then she could get Jerrica to mop, saving both their asses. Good plan.\n\nThe customer was taking it in good humor, at least. Nothing, apart from the eggs, had busted, but there was still stuff covered in raw, gooey egg that needed to be taken care of. The customer was petite, with close-cropped hair coiled tightly against the skull. A floral skirt peeked out from under a large, warm-looking coat, and underneath the customer was wearing jeans. They waited for Jerrica -Dahlia had texted rather than call over the intercom. She wasn't supposed to even have her phone, but fuck that. Jerrica took care of the customer while Dahlia kept the line moving so that Carey wouldn't have a reason to come over before her shift ended, in 7 minutes.\n\nThe customer left, all eggy things gathered anew. Dahlia checked the clock. Thirty seconds past the end of her shift. Candi took over, Dahlia took off her apron, and walked outside to feel at least five minutes of sun before it went down for the day at 4:37. The customer was still loading their car, she saw. They had several packages already in the car, and seemed to be trying to fit everything into the corners and nooks left behind. Dahlia didn't even think about what she was going to say before she started walking over.\n\n\"Excuse me, ma'am,\" Dalia started.\n\nThe customer didn't respond. Dahlia cleared her throat and spoke a bit louder and clearer. \"Uhh... Excuse me. Ma'am.\"\n\nNow the customer turned, face nearly expressionless. \"Who are you calling ma'am?\" Their words were quieter than they might have been.\n\n\"Oh man, I'm sorry sir -\" Dahlia stopped. The customer's hands had visible tightened, and were shaking. \"Uh... Look, I just wanted to say thanks for not suing and getting me, you know, fired, and, uh, sorry for calling you ma'm, so, uh, sorry sir.\"\n\nThe customer took a second too long to reply. There seemed to be a fight going on inside their head. What a fucking weirdo, just gonna turn and leave, no need to get much more into this. Dahlia smiled and opened her mouth to say ok bye then see ya round, but the customer got there first.\n\n\"No worries, I worked service before, it's wet and shit, I should have looked out.\" They hesitated, and Dahlia again opened her mouth, an again the customer started again. \"Ah -and, uh, it's not sir either. I'm not -I'm neither, ok?\"\n\nDahlia froze her face into the same smile she used when at work. \"Yeah. Sure. Well, I said my bit. Bye.\"\n\nKim watched the cashier go. That, they thought, was probably the scariest thing they'd done so far. The first person they had officially come out to, other than big sister Kamala, who had accidentally found Kim's forum post history, so it didn't count. First a cashier, then mom. Then dad. Then... maybe grandaddy? Definitely not mom-mom, they thought, she'd probably have another heart attack and die of shock.\n\nThey let out a breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding in. They continued to pack the car, got in, and drove away." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are a newly hired cemetery attendant, excited to have a low-key, low-stress job. What you don’t realize is that every night in the cemetery, the dead come back to life. It is your job to keep them contained." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“And this here’s my whacking-shovel.”\n\nSenior cemetery attendant Schenger was proudly presenting the new hire with the tools of his trade. After spending the last six months in a customer service role for a central library in the city, Daniel was eager to take on duties doing something far less stressful. He examined the item at display, trying to understand his instructions despite the man’s thick accent. “Your whating-shovel?”\n\n“My whacking-shovel. For them risin’ sons-of-bitches,” Schenger explained.\n\nDaniel did his best to understand the man but it seemed that the more he heard, the less he understood. “I’m sorry, I’m lost.”\n\nSchenger examined the boy’s confused face and started cackling. “Ah, they done pulled a fast one on you boy.”\n\nDaniel raised his eyebrows and lines of worry started to appear on his otherwise smooth face. Schenger attempted to calm him. “No worries boy, it ain’t the first time they done this.”\n\n“See, when the moon’s full,“ he explained, ”some of these sons-of-bitches we put in the ground, ain’t real good about staying there. So I takes this shovel, and whacks them real good on the head with it.” Daniel jumped as the man tapped the shovel against the desk.\n\nHe back-pedaled as Schenger approached him to describe things closer.\n\n“Now, if you real fast, they done risin’ after that. But if you ain’t so lucky they gon’ come after ya like a mutt for a bitch in heat. If that happens, you use this.”\n\nSchenger handed Daniel a rubber ball with straps attached to its sides. He examined the item trying to figure out its purpose. “What is this thing?”\n\n“I gots them down from the sex shop on the main street, said they was called gag balls. You just shoves it in them mouths, stops’em from chewin’ off your face.” The man cackled as Daniel dropped the item realizing its origin. “Yeeeah, no needs to worry about them straps, unless them corpses feeling real frisky that night.”\n\nDaniel looked behind him wondering what he had gotten himself into. Despite the stories, cemeteries had always seemed serene to him, places of calm reflection. Now, half an hour after starting his new job, he was sweating like a pig waiting for slaughter.\n\n“Now, with them risers it real easy to jus’ tap em on the skull. The brain usually pop out like a puddin’. After they outta’ the ground it ain’t so easy. So you oughta hack at their neck until the head pops off.“\n\n“Oh my god...”, Daniel gasped. The blood rushed out of his head and stomach, leaving him nauseated and pale.\n\n“Yeeeah, most of them’s been in the ground long enough that it don’t take too much, but sometimes it’s a real doozy with a fresh body. That’s when ya need the bone saw... hold on now, I’ll go get that for ya.“\n\nAs soon as Schenger disappeared into the back room, Daniel rushed out of the storage room heading for the gates. Soon Director Charles came knocking on the door to see how the new hire’s introduction was progressing. Hearing the noise, Schenger emerged from the back room.\n\n“Oh, the boy’s gone now has he?”, Schenger asked.\n\n“Looks like it.” The director took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You weren’t doing the bone saw bit again, were you Schenger?”\n\nSchenger held up the old band saw he had dug up from the back.\n\n“I swear, if you keep doing this we’re never gonna find someone to assist you,“ Director Charles bemoaned.\n\n“Well sir, I know you don’t want me sittin’ in on them interviews,” Schenger explained, ”so I needs to do somethin’ to make sure you ain’t stickin’ me with some stuck-up poetry geek.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: this guy's life story" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Franklin Ferguson was born on a snowy Tuesday in November. His mother nicknamed him Foofoo. He liked to eat peach-flavored baby food. He liked the color blue, and the smell of his blanket. Classical music made him cry. Disco made him happy. He was allergic to milk.\n\nIn Kindergarten, a girl named Lucy kissed him on the elbow. He kissed her elbow back. She ran away.\n\nHe drew pictures of aliens and dinosaurs and aliens riding dinosaurs. He ate crayons, but not the wrappers. He liked to sing.\n\nFranklin graduated from kindergarten on a Friday in May. He received a piece of paper with a blue star on it. He couldn't read it, but his mother said it was a 'Kindness Award'.\n\nThe day before Franklin started first grade, his father left. His father used to have a big beard. Maybe he still does.\n\nFranklin's mother tucked him in every night. Then she went to work at her new job. The first night was painful for her, but also thrilling. People kept throwing money on stage. Real money that she could have to raise her son. After the first night, it became routine. She told herself she felt okay.\n\nFranklin ate fresh peaches for breakfast every day. And now that he had the big box of 64 crayons, he could draw really well. His mom put everything he drew on the fridge.\n\nOne day, Franklin's teacher gave him homework. He didn't like that. School ended at three o'clock. Extra work wasn't fair. So he didn't do it.\n\nHis mother found out. She took the assignment from his binder and made five copies. She made Franklin do the assignment five times. He didn't get any peaches that week.\n\nHis mother picked up some extra shifts. She signed Franklin up for after-school tutoring. She checked his homework every night.\n\nWhen Franklin started second grade, the teachers put him in the gifted program. He was the second-smartest student in the class. Lucy—the girl who had kissed his elbow—was #1.\n\nThings stayed that way.\n\nThat's how they graduated high school. Lucy was valedictorian. Franklin was right behind her. She went to a private college. Franklin went to State. His mother stopped working nights.\n\nIn college, Franklin studied Philosophy. He worked on-campus at the library, twenty hours a week. He drank a lot. A lot. But he still managed to graduate with honors.\n\nThe hangovers were getting worse. He had no idea what to do with his life. He waited tables at an Asian Fusion restaurant. He liked earning money, but he never seemed to spend much. He lived simply.\n\nHe heard that Lucy had landed a job at a big consulting group. They sent her on business trips to Tokyo.\n\nFranklin's co-worker at the restaurant was ex-Army. He told stories about the flaming oil wells in Iraq. Columns of smoke swirling toward the stars. Waves of heat. Brown-skinned people who held their chins up proudly and spoke a strange language.\n\nFranklin didn't like the sound of the Army.\n\nHe joined the Peace Corps. He went to a village in Syria to help with a community irrigation project. He made friends. Good friends.\n\nThe civil war broke out. Franklin saw people die.\n\nFranklin's supervisor tried to call him. Over and over. Franklin ignored his phone. He left the village. He asked his Syrian friends to leave with him. But they didn't.\n\nAlone, Franklin wandered through the war. He couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to fight. But there was something about the explosions and the fires. The destruction. The sense of loss. The senselessness. He felt addicted to it.\n\nHe meandered. He stayed in-country for months. He could have left at any time.\n\nAnd then he shot at someone.\n\nHe was living with an Australian guy. A reporter. The Australian had given him a .22 Glock sidearm. Franklin had never expected to use it. It was just for safety. Just in case.\n\nThey were living in Aleppo. There had been bombings the previous night. It was time to evacuate.\n\nThe Australian had been driving. He kept cursing because of all the rubble in the streets. Franklin saw a man in front of a barber shop. The man was holding a hunting rifle. He was pointing it at a teenage boy. The man was shouting vehemently. The teenage boy was unarmed. Panic covered his face.\n\nFranklin fired at the man.\n\nThe Australian swore. He and Franklin sank back into their seats as the car sped away.\n\nFranklin didn't know if he hit the man. He never found out.\n\nThe Australian didn't talk to him anymore. They parted ways after crossing into Turkey.\n\nFranklin drank a lot. He knew he should have headed back to the US. He should have called his mom. Instead, he took drugs. He walked around Istanbul with his eyes peeled back by pills. He hitchhiked up to Bulgaria. He floated from bar to bar, all through Eastern Europe.\n\nThen India. Nepal. Southeast Asia. Seedy bars full of junkies, hookers, and sex tourists. Round pills, oblong pills, tasty capsules, and grainy powders.\n\nHe woke up one Tuesday afternoon with a needle in his arm. He had no idea whose apartment he was at. He was in Cambodia.\n\nThis had gotten old.\n\nHe wanted to go home.\n\nHe landed at JFK International Airport on a Monday.\n\nThe airport TV's played commericals for Bud Lite. The news ticker at the bottom of the screen didn't say anything about Syria. There was something about a movie Sony had made. Apparently it was important.\n\nFranklin picked up his backpack from the luggage carousel. He walked past a Dunkin Donuts shop. Coffee cost $3.59. Franklin couldn't believe it. $3.59 would buy a full dinner for two in Cambodia. He looked at the doughnuts. It was so much sugar. How could a human being eat all that?\n\nA girl with a blonde ponytail and a black North Face jacket brushed past him. Franklin frowned.\n\nThe anchor on Fox News made a joke. The other anchors fake-laughed. Franklin didn't get it.\n\nHe heard snippets of conversations as people passed him. A twelve year old girl was asking her mother for the new iPhone for Christmas. Franklin felt alienated.\n\nHe took the Skytrain to Jamaica station and then transferred to the E train.\n\nSomeone took a picture of him on the train. Franklin didn't care. He'd seen war. He'd seen the world. What did it matter if some pimply teenager didn't like his clothes?\n\nFranklin sighed. Maybe it had been a mistake to come back. Life abroad had been better. The drugs had been bad. He'd gone too far. He'd been unhealthy.\n\nBut now he was back in the US. His veins were healthy, but American culture felt diseased.\n\nHe got off the train.\n\nHe knocked on the door of 3225 Jewel Avenue.\n\n“Hi Mom,” he said." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: As a kid, your mom always told you Magic the Gathering lead to witchcraft, but you didn't think it would be true." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Oh the lies, so many lies.\n\n\"If you keep making that face, it'll get stuck like that!\"\n\n\"Be careful who you make fun of, one day you'll be just like them!\"\n\n\"If you play that card game, it will lead to real black magic! And that is a sin.\"\n\nWell.\n\nAwkwardly, for me, that last one wasn't exactly untrue.\n\nI didn't set out to practice witchcraft. I started off calling it warlockcraft because I thought that witches had to be women. I was eventually corrected.\n\nAlso I was informed that warlockcraft sounds absolutely idiotic. Which was hurtful but needed, you know.\n\nI think the grand irony is that I don't even play the game anymore, I don't have much time for it. There's the ever present threat of Hunters, those that would have my head on a spike. They're my least favorite.\n\nExcept Gallivan, he's actually pretty nice. Doesn't see me as a \"thing\" to be hunted but as a man to be hunted.\n\nDoesn't really change things except we've worked together twice. Once was a rogue witch in Toronto, she was all sorts of crazy.\n\nSecond was a loosed demon, some kid accidentally summoned it in his kitchen. I know, right. There's all these joke stories about it and then this kid actually did it!\n\nHe got splattered all over the place so I guess it didn't go the same \"harmless\" way that so many people dream about...but it did happen.\n\nCrazy.\n\nSo Gallivan kinda accepts that I exist. As long as I'm harmless or helpful.\n\nAll this to say, listen to your mother or you get access to untapped dark power!\n\nWait.\n\nNo, that's not the moral.\n\nI'm bad at morals.\n\nSo let me start from the start.\n\nI'm a witch. It was an accident but once you get into it, you don't really get to just back out. You're stuck.\n\nI don't wear a black robe or pointy hat (except one Halloween, completely unrelated to my lifestyle). I wear jeans and a t-shirt most of the time.\n\nI make a living doing \"witchy\" stuff. Some investigating the paranormal, some superstitious stuff, one or two murder investigations.\n\nThey weren't murder investigations when I started but it ended up that way.\n\nMy point is that I didn't want to be a practitioner of the dark arts. Not even a little bit. I didn't want to be this way. I just wanted to play at Magic, not actually do it.\n\nBut, here I am, sitting on the seventh floor of an apartment building in Toronto. Watching flames eat at doors and wondering when the hell I got tossed through a wall. I can see two studs, so I guess that's lucky.\n\nAlthough the thing coming at me doesn't seem all to concerned about studs, so maybe I'm not so lucky.\n\n\"Hellhounds,\" I hear myself say, through a coughing fit and as pain shoots through my back. The same back, and this is important, I just went through a wall with.\n\nThe flames are getting higher and the hellhound is oozing black fire from it's jaws. I think that means it's hungry.\n\nI wonder if my insurance will cover this fire.\n\nOh. I don't have insurance.\n\nThe hellhound starts taking bounds towards me, coming towards the hole that I previously made. With my body.\n\nI think it's important to really drive that point home.\n\nSo yeah.\n\nMoral of the story? Don't play with Magic, cause you'll end up in a burning building staring down a hellhound that looks at you like you're lunch.\n\nAlso, if you do, and you find yourself in that situation. Like I did.\n\nTake my advice on this.\n\nRun, run as fast you can.\n\nWhich is exactly what I will my body to do.\n\nOne last piece of advice? Don't scream like I did.\n\nIt's unbecoming of a witch." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Humanity found a drug that stops aging and makes people immortal. It's only now, 400 years after, that the side effects are starting to appear..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It started with a twitch, nothing to odd, perhaps a sign of old age? I thought, glancing over my arm as the muscles contracted, the skin tightening and loosening as if it was squeezing a stressball in my arm. Luckily it only seemed to bring with it an odd sensation, no pain forming from the mild twitches.\n\nI had been one of the first to test the new drug, according to the scientists that made it, I was going to be Earth's leader in the advancement of human evolution, fuckers were just blowing smoke up my naive ass. I just wanted to feel important, like this college dropout could still make his parents proud. So of course I accepted it and of course the effects seemed to work. My cells seemed to stop ageing, in fact my rate of recovery and metabolism seemed to skyrocket. I was truly a success story. As I awaited my ceremony, my triumphant swan song... well that never came.\n\nThe scientists discovered that I was hardly the first human they wanted for this discovery. Just some loser who needed rent money, no they shunned me, called me one of the 'first' to be tested, instead they trialed the first public test on an ex basketball star, using it as a great publicity stunt. I could barely contain my rage.. the people praising this star as brave and inspirational were misdirecting their praise. I was first! I was the brave soul! I bet he wouldn't have even let them inject him without knowing it would work..\n\nI tried... oh god I tried to get my story out, but no one cared... I tried lawyering up, yet my case was slapped down again and again. I was driven to suicide yet my body wouldn't die... I was trapped in a hell. They would mock me, laugh at me. I was the fame golddigger that just wanted to be the first. Every week I would wake up to some new presenter satirising me for the laughs of ignorant minded individuals. All of them guffawing at my misery..\n\nIt did grow a little quieter as the years rolled on, but whenever the drug became news again, my name was dragged up.. no side effects they laughed, the presenters smiling to eachother, botox cheeks unflinching like the dolls they were.\n\nIT WAS MY FAME! NOT THEIRS!\n\nThe shaking grew worse in my rage before I reached for a small blue tube, stabbing it into my arm, the blue gel hissing as it poured into my vain. A muscle relaxant, it wouldn't kill the shaking but it would make it tolerable.. I could only laugh as I tossed the needle aside. No side effects, they were wrong. There was some joy to be found in that. Oh gods they were wrong. Those rich bastards are wrong!\n\nOf course normal people couldn't afford the 'premium' version of the drug, so they were sold a shorter and less durable drug. One that wouldn't save them if they were hit by a car, but would expand their lifespan a few fifty years.\n\nHa... oh here comes the pain, fingers and toes twisting towards my body, crushing me as my body begins to curl, looking almost like a dead spider that had been sprayed with poison. I gasped out a huff of air before spitting up blood. The rich red color spilling from my mouth like a river. It was a disgusting sight and soon I was spared of it, my vision slowing dripping into the void of darkness. HA... HA... those bastards would soon be in this hell with me.. of course there were side effects, if only someone warned them, perhaps they could have prevented this...\n\nEven as my body curled in on itself, I was certain my smile never faded, the pain indescribable, it was as if all my bones were being shattered then pushed together, like a child rubbing a broken toy against its other half in the hopes of rejoining it. Slowly my body shut itself off, only leaving enough functions to keep me in a concussed state. All I could feel was the pain, body frozen without the ability to even scream or move. Who knows how long I would be stuck like this before I died, the only positive was, that those bastards would be joining me in this pain soon." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: She has been giving erotic massages for years, and has honed her skills to become the best in the city. One day, her eyes widen to realize that her next appointment is her boyfriend’s worst enemy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She thought about turning him down. She could turn down anyone, she made plenty of money.\n\nShe thought about making him cum in under 30 seconds and laughing at him. Telling him how all the 18 year old virgins last who came to her easily lasted longer.\n\nThen she had her idea. She would break him. Give him such an erotic massage that nothing would ever be the same again.\n\nHe came in cocky, he new who she was. He was smirking and condescending as he got onto the table. \"Your boyfriend must not do well enough that you're forced to resort to this. Maybe if you had a real man, you wouldn't be stuck in a dead-end job like this.\"\n\nHe didn't know, you made enough money that you told your boyfriend to quit working. You regularly had him come get massages from the other workers. They'd try out new techniques you thought them on him.\n\nAs he laid there you smiled wryly and went about your work. Rubbing oil from his head to his heels, the back of his feet. You pulled the towel off his ass and rubbed oil in. You started in the center of his back, worked your way up, as you did his neck your head was by his, your soft breathe falling on his ears, you did his lower back, and then went to his feet, rubbing him heel to toe. Then working up the legs. You reached under his thighs and massged his quadriceps.\n\nYou got close to his cock and then flipped him over. It was effortless. His cock already hard standing up to greet you. You started center of his chest, leaning your face over his, close enough to kiss him. You then got to his abs, now your face was inches from his cock. You slowly open your mouth and lean in, then ask \"Is there anything in particular you want worked out?\"\n\nHe grins, \"It's right there baby, give that dick all the time and attention it needs.\"\n\nYou work down his thighs grabbing underneath at hamstrings, causing his cock to flex. Finally finishing up his feet. Your grab him by the base.\n\nHe stiffens. You slowly pull up to the tip, pulling his foreskin over his head, then all the way back down. His cock was okay, maybe a bit bigger than your boyfriends, but also a bit skinnier. Also, in all your years of working here, cocks of nice people just looked prettier. It was weird, but while their was nothing wrong with his dick, even his dick gave off a bad aura.\n\nYou worked him up and down, one hand, then the other. Your other hand rubbing his stomach m, or his thighs. It was time. You worked him rhythmically, your face staring down the length of him and you massaged his taint. The taint was the magic button if you knew how to press it right, and the off switch if you knew how to press it right.\n\nYou'd build him up to just before he couldn't handle anymore than turn him off. He'd drip so much pre-cum but he'd quickly edge away from an orgasm. Each time you did this, you were able to build him up more the next time, right as he was practically levitatating off the table you'd shut him back down.\n\nFinally you had him where you wanted him. The amount of effort it would take to recreate this was so far beyond the untrained hand. You got him to the edge and then let him cross it. But mid-orgasm you shut him down. So he came but it lost the energy to make it up the shaft. A pathetic dribble came out as everything got clogged inside the shaft. It felt like the best/worst orgasm he'd every have. And now all his orgasms would be just the worst part of that. Dying halfway up the shaft.\n\nHe scoffed at you as he was getting dressed. \"I thought that was gonna be amazing, but in the end I don't know what everyone was talking about, you're not worth the hype.\"\n\nYou smiled, and waved. Of course he didn't even tip. Again, okay, his tip would never tip again. Maybe if he sucked your boyfriends dick, and then sucked your boyfriends cum out of your pussy you'd return him to normal. That is if he had it in him to apologize and beg you to." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: Some herbs are medicinal and others make food yummy. But the ones you grow can turn people into various animals or even mythical creatures, although those herbs are extremely rare. One day you accidentally eat an unknown herb and turn into a small red phoenix." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sighed in relief when I heard the bell anounce the end of my shift. It had been a long day in the fields under the heavy heat of the sun and the pervasive smell of manure. The only relief came when you spilled a few precious drops of water on your clothes. I shook my legs to relieve them of the tension built up by hours of crawling and weeding. The dirt stuck to the sweat and plant rests on my fingers and face.\n\nAs I stood up for the first time in a few hours I noticed an ox plowing a new field. It expanded the sorcerer‘s farm, working together with just one human. It‘s ability to do that came from it‘s intelligence, from it‘s lost human form. I shuddered despite the heat. Many humans entered such contracts to gain food and shelter, but I would never abandon my humanity like that. I would not sell my body, not even as an exotic pet to a nice, rich family with lovely kids. Not even if I was guaranteed the antidote afterwards. It‘s beneath me.\n\nDinner was the same as usual, only a bit more quiet. The new field meant more work, but there were no new faces in the crowd. Most people rested their head in one hand as they wolfed down the food. I did so too, shoveling handful after handful of rice into my mouth. It was too bland and too little to be a real meal, but salt was only served on weekends. A short disturbance resulted in four worker being fired. They had tried to smuggle in some of the herbs for their meal, but were discovered by the overseers. They were lucky not to have stolen some of the magic herbs, otherwise the punishment would have been a lot harsher.\n\nIt was late at night when I awoke to a strange pain in my chest. It came in throbbing waves each of which seemed to pulse throughout my whole body. My gasping awoke the worker next to me. Her eyes mirrored my own panic. We both knew that these were the signs of an immanent transformation and she did not want to be crushed by a sudden rhinoceros. She went to get the overseers and they carried me into the sorcerer’s villa and then into its basement.\n\nThe basement was the only room I dreaded entering. Other rooms I dreaded for whoever had their office therin, but this one I feared for the room itself. The walls were cold, bare stone, unlike the lighter wodden floors and panelling upstairs. The floor was the same packed earth as in the worker‘s quarters, but it felt harder, maby due to the larged beasts it had housed, maby simply due to my fear. It didn‘t matter. The transformation could not be stopped. My body reformed. In hindsight, the word reborn seems more accurate.\n\nI waited for the sorcerer to come. He would turn me back and then have me brandmarked as a thief, ruining my life in the process. It was a better prospect than living my life like this. My new form was much smaller than a human which gave me a weird shift of perspective. The world became larger and darker, the wooden ceiling reaching unobtainable heights. The flames of the candles began pulsing and dancing. I could see new colours inside them, hear them cry out as they longed for the return of a fire‘s rage. Like me, they wanted their own form back, not this lesser one we were trapped in.\n\nIt was the first time I had seen the sorcerer shocked as he closed the door. He was looking down at me and didn‘t even try to hide his expression. It was not disgust at an inhuman monster, but wonder and marvel. There was a layer of greed hidden beneath, though, which troubled me greatly. The leather gloves with an attached chain with which he picked me up reinforced my worries. My claws gripped into it as he held me and let his eyes wander all about my body. It felt dehumanizing, as though I was an object. He never once looked into my eyes, just all over my bright red feathers and golden feet. It took a long while before he spoke.\n\n„This is wonderful, marvellous. I‘ve never seen it before. Now, where did our little thief find that herb?“\n\nI tried to tell him. I tried to say that I was not a thief, that I’d never stolen a single leaf, but all that came out of my beak was a long melodic tune. It carried all of my fear at the transformation as well as a plea to restore my humanity. The flames of the candles reacted to my voice, bowing and shaking unevenly. The sorcerer chuckled.\n\n„You realize you‘re not human, right? Keep your mouth shut and listen. Nobody’s ever transformed into a phoenix. I’d be stupid to pass up this chance at wealth and turn you back to a lazy worker who doesn‘t understand how much money they‘re losing me with their stupidity. You work for me, so I demand you lead me to the herb, you understand? Open your wings once for yes, twice for no.“\n\nI sat there in absolute stupor. I was a human, not a fire-chicken! My wings opened twice for „no“. Even if there were a way to lead him there, I wouldn’t show it to somebody like that. Somebody who refuses any sort of empathy. The sorcerer interrupted me after the first wingflap, no even pretending to care about my answer. I tried to push off and take flight, but he held on to my foot.\n\n„Wonderful. I‘ll just put on the chain, and then we‘re off to find great riches. We‘ll gain fame and fortune together!“\n\nThe chain was what drove me over the edge. I‘m a peaceful person through and through, but being chained to a glove so that I can make somebody else millions does not fly with me. The sound that burst forth from my beak was a song of rage and spite. I was human. Though I did not have a human body I still had emotions and thoughts and humanity to myself. I lashed out at the sorcerer with my beak, the shrill tones weaving together to a masterful symphony of violence. The candles rejoiced and burned higher, eating at the ceiling with soot tongues.\n\nThe sorcerer was overwhelmed by the ferocity of my attack. He threw me from the glove and fumbled at the door. I swung myself into the air and swooped in, clawing at his eyes. I hit them with an accuracy that would have surprised me had I been able to think. The world was turning red to my eyes. I let out my rage and wrath, while the words „I‘m human!“ reverberated inside my head. The candles had consumed the ceiling and I could have escaped through the hole had I wanted to. I only realized it was too late when the villa collapsed above me.\n\nAs I lay under the burning rubble of the house I had known my whole life I understood something. I was human. Some humans wear the bodies of animals, but that doesn‘t make them less human. And some humans are treated like animals, but they are also human. Nothing can make someone less of a human and that was true of the people I‘d just killed as well. They were humans corrupted by the sorcerer and his greed, but they were human. And if their greed cannot be stopped then the least you can do is make sure it doesn‘t happen again.\n\nThe rubble weighed heavily on my chest, but I felt the lightest I‘d ever had. I saw my wings fall to ash and my feet crumble to dust. My golden beak splashed with blood reflected the fire one last time before it all went dark. A fitting end to my life, dying under the mountain of rage I‘d just toppled.\n\nMy next life began as soon as the ash had cooled down. I lifted my head through it‘s gray veil and couldn‘t believe my eyes when I saw the blue day above me. The other workers were standing in the distance looking more lively than I had ever seen them before. Their energy was unburnt as they had not spent the day in the fields. We could use that energy. We could use it to rebuild and improve." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: To cut down on Necessary NPCs getting killed Developers have created an AI program that has NPCs beg for their life. Its all fake but it seems very real. Tell the story of someone who was dared to kill every NPC in a game." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Wind danced on the tall grass and distant bleating of sheep could be heard over the horizon. The rolling hills were home to a quiet farming community, which provided for the kingdom wheat and livestock. A lone farmer was harvesting his crop with a long scythe and bundling the harvest. He was a small and thin man in tattered clothes--normal attire for a peasant worker--and besides his farming scythe he was completely unarmed.\n\nFrom the distance an unfamiliar sound echoed through the wind. A steady and slow approach that jingled in off-tones with every step. Over the hill the top of a great titan emerged. On one hand he held a crossbow and in the other a great flaming sword. Its body was covered in black armor and embers appeared to dance behind his long slits in his helmet.\n\nThe farmer was awe stuck and terrified. He dropped his scythe and sprinted away, leaving his harvest where it fell. Behind him he heard a crowd of cackling laughter.\n\nSuddenly, a great pressure pushed through his shoulder. A long metal bolt protruded from his back through the top of his chest. The pain did not come all at once, but in slow waves of realization. He stumbled for a couple steps, but collapsed when reality set in. The terrible monster seemed to take an eternity to walk to where he lied, each step shaking the ground and rattling its various metal parts.\n\nThe peasant tried to crawl away, but the bolt had become stuck on the ground behind him, and the terrible searing pain immobilized his upper half. The great shadow fell on him. The peasant looked up hesitantly into the monster's burning helmet. He heard jeers and laughter, undecipherable speech of a hundred men, all there to witness his death.\n\nThe monster poured a foul-smelling liquid on the farmer. The collapsed man shielded his eyes and face as best he could and spat that liquid that fell into his mouth. When the monster lit a torch over the man, he understood what was happening.\n\n\"No, no , no.. please, no...\" The man pleaded in a small voice, wincing at the pain that had not yet come.\n\nThe monster lowered the flame to oohs and ahs from the many voices. Laughter and horrible jeers filled the quiet field, but only he and the monster stood there.\n\n\"Beg,\" the monster demanded in a great voice that cut through the many others.\n\nThe peasant whimpered, struggling for words through the hot pain that radiated through his body. \"I don't want to die,\" he finally said through his increasingly shallow breaths.\n\n\"Papa?\" A small voice cut through the great number of voices. A familiar voice. A chill ran through the peasant's skull.\n\nHe looked up at the monster, who was now looking away.\n\n\"Please, no! Please, please, don't hurt her! Please, just take me! PLEASE!\" The man begged with a newfound energy. The great many voices urged the monster to \"go get her,\" and \"kill them all.\"\n\nThe peasant reached for the great monster's ankle to hold him back, the pain in his chest hardly registering now. The monster looked down on the tiny hand holding him back. Uproarious laughter filled the field. The monster stomped in the hand and crushed it up to the elbow. The peasant screamed a horrible noise into the air.\n\nThe little girl in pig tails and a tattered flower dress couldn't decide to run to her father or run away.\n\nThe monster walked closer, the voices becoming louder as it approached.\n\n\"Kill them all,\" the voices chanted as it moved about the countryside." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Two suicidal adults coincidentally meet atop a building and have a discussion." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stood there in the dark, looking down the fifty stories at the street below, wondering what it would feel like when he hit the ground. Would it hurt? What was the fall going to be like? Would he have regretted jumping, like all the people who leap from the Golden Gate Bridge? Who gives a shit, he thought, if I decide to jump I’ll go. I have to trust how I feel right now, not look ahead to the pussy who’s flying through mid-air fretting about death.\n\nHe got up onto the ledge, and prepared to jump when a voice called out to him. “You going to jump, too? I guess we’ll be in the paper tomorrow.”\n\nHe stumbled backwards in shock, nearly falling on his behind.\n\nA man, probably in his forties, average height with slightly greying black hair strode up to the ledge alongside of him. The man flicked a roach off the building, and they watched as it was carried by the wind, fluttering gently to the ground.\n\nHe turned to the man, his fists clenched, “Why did you do that? I was ready!” he shouted, suddenly overcome with rage.\n\nThe man smiled, “Man, you got ready once, you can get ready again. I just thought I’d say hello before you took a dive. After all, kind of a coincidence that we’re up here in the same spot, getting ready to off ourselves.”\n\n“You’re right. Well fuck this, man, I’m out.” He said, striding confidently back to the ledge. When he looked down this time, he could feel his heart race. He began to breathe heavily. His hands shook as he took a step back.\n\n“FUCK!” he screamed, and it echoed off of the other buildings.\n\nThe other man gave a hearty laugh and strode to the ledge. The man looked down, and spoke softly, “Sure is a long way. We picked a good building, friend. It’s the right height and pretty easily accessible. I commend you for your intelligent choice of suicide location.”\n\n“Thanks, I guess.” He said dejectedly.\n\nThe man climbed up on to the ledge turned around to face him, “Look, pal, you might think you’re ready for this. But, man, one look at you says you aren’t. I’ve been there before, up on some ledge high off the ground. The slightest little thing is enough to get you to step back and reconsider the whole mess, and then it’s over. One time, a bird landed right next to me and cooed at me, like it was begging me to stop and reconsider. I sat down and I cried and cried because right then I thought this life was worth living some more. You think you’re gonna come up here and jump off the building but you aren’t. You’ve already made your decision – you oughta go home.”\n\nHe could feel the anger rise up within him, the redness of his cheeks. He lashed out, “What the fuck do you think you know! I’m going to jump off this building, I’m ready to take my life. I’ve thought about it a lot, God damn it!!!”\n\nThe man chuckled, leaned back and fell off of the ledge.\n\nHe cried out as he watched it happen and ran to the ledge. Looking down, he saw the body flail in mid-air, a look of horrified calm on the man’s face. The body smacked into the pavement below, splattering blood across it like paint, the final artwork of a human life a crimson Rorschach blot. He sat down next to the ledge and began to sob. It occurred to him, as his chest heaved, that perhaps this life was worth living some more." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You die and go to the afterlife, where your spirit is sent to a new, experimental haunting program. Instead of a poltergeist, you're chosen to be a \"helpergeist\"... and the household you're assigned to has a serious problem." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Oh man, the registration line is so long. Who imagined death would be more waiting? Morgan sighed. She glanced around. Nothing, but a giant white dome and black marble floors that seemed to stretch on forever. Then she noticed someone skip out of the line.\n\nFar, far on the other side of the room, a new window had opened. Morgan ran towards it, passing hundreds of people waiting to register their death and receive their role in the afterlife. She slowed after seeing above the window, \"Experiment: Helpergeist.\" Was this what she imagined? Going into people's homes and being a maid, essentially? She was a server most her life before, did she really want to serve people again?\n\nShe looked back at the line. It had grown. The lines for the \"Helpergeist\" only had five people in it. Reluctantly, she joined them.\n\nWhen she reached the window a lady with flaring peacock glasses held out her hand and asked for Morgan's registration slip. Morgan gave it to her.\n\n\"Morgan Nodder... most accomplished task... deceased at 63... Yep, found you.\"\n\n\"Okay, what happens now?\" asked Morgan.\n\n\"Well, I've put you into the Helpergiest registration system, you'll be receiving a mentor promptly and they will be taking you for your first lesson.\"\n\n\"Okay,\" nodded Morgan.\n\n\"If you would please wait elsewhere, there's someone behind you,\" said the lady. A young boy was patiently waiting behind Morgan. Morgan apologized to the boy, shocked by his youth.\n\n\"No problem, miss!\" he smiled and hopped on up to the window. His eyes were level with the windowsill.\n\n\"Morgan!\" a voice spoke from behind. It was a man in all white, resembling Mr. Clean. He placed his hand out for Morgan to shake.\n\n\"I'm Paul, nice to meet you!\"\n\nWhen they shook, they flashed out of existence and appeared in a home in the slums of Camden, New Jersey. The was a mother and boy sitting alone around the television in a tiny apartment, with a kitchen-living room, bathroom, and one bedroom. A bottle of alcohol rested beside the mother, who could barely keep her eyes open.\n\n\"Now,\" said Paul. \"This is at the experimental stage, but we want to help families like these. The mother, we do not know if we can secure her future, but the boy, he still has his whole life ahead of him.\"\n\nMorgan gazed at the boy, remembering the sweet little child back at the registration center. She never had children of her own and could never be bothered with taking care of them, but this child stirred something inside of her.\n\n\"What can I do?\" she asked. Paul smiled.\n\n\"Luckily for you, as long as the mother is either absent, intoxicated or unconscious, you may interact with any object in the apartment. You can clean, cook, make lunches or dinners, build lessons plans for Tyler, edit resumes for Fiona. This home is your slab of marble, David. Sculpt and create.\"\n\n\"And what if I fail? What if I make things worse?\" asked Morgan. Paul closed his eyes and took a deep breath.\n\n\"Without you, failure is guaranteed,\" he said. \"Now, let's get started with your first lesson. Object interaction!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Fed up with politics and politicians, people replaced all politicians with randomly drafted civilians under the assumption that the result would be a government of mostly reasonable people that nearly match the demographics and political beliefs of the country as a whole." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "##Committee for Wildlife Preservation\n\nThe Chair of the Committee for Wildlife Preservation runs in the conference room fifteen minutes late. Everyone else is already present except Landon.\n\n\"Sorry, I am late. Traffic problems,\" Winston says while straightening his suit and sits down. The deputy chair is wearing jeans and a Star Wars shirt.\n\n\"Kayleigh, I asked you last time to start dressing up,\" he says.\n\n\"The speaker of the house told me I could wear whatever I want. This is what I want,\" she says.\n\n\"Well, we want to present an air of professionalism to the public so please go for business casual,\" he says.\n\n\"You showed up fifteen minutes late. I was fifteen minutes early. Let's take a poll. Who thinks I am more more professional right now?\" she says. Everyone raises their hand.\n\n\"Well, fine, if that is how it is, vote me out,\" he says.\n\n\"No,\" Angela says, \"you are the only one of us who actually wants to be here.\"\n\n\"It is true. I am only still here because I don't want to get roasted by the media for leaving before my term is up,\" Kayleigh says.\n\n\"They won't roast you too harsh,\" Winston says.\n\n\"Last week, Matthew got drunk and filmed himself singing Mr. Brightside. He trended on Twitter for three days and is now a meme,\" Kayleigh says.\n\n\"I like the one where he sings the Pokemon theme song,\" Jacob says at his computer.\n\n\"Jacob, are you playing Minecraft?\" Winston says.\n\n\"Landon is not here yet,\" Jacob says.\n\n\"Well, odds are he is not going to be here so shut the game down,\" Winston says. Jacob shuts his computer and rolls his eyes.\n\n\"Alright, what is on the agenda,\" Winston looks at the top agenda and trembles.\n\n\"You have held off on this long enough. I came prepared,\" Steven starts with a PowerPoint\n\n\"Steven, no, we cannot start a geese extinction program,\" Winston says, \"even if it weren't unethical, it would be infeasible.\"\n\n\"That is where your wrong,\" he says.\n\n\"Motion to end this segment early,\" Britney says. Everyone nods in agreement.\n\n\"Alright, my turn,\" Britney walks up and starts her presentation.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" Angela says.\n\n\"Right, here is why I think we should bring back the Dinosaurs,\" she starts.\n\n\"Did you watch Jurassic Park, again?\" Kayleigh asks.\n\n\"No,\" Britney says.\n\n\"Jurassic World?\" Kayleigh says.\n\n\"Okay, fine, I did watch Jurassic World, but here me out this could be a huge revenue generator for the U.S. Government.\" she says.\n\n\"Nope, nope, nope, end this now,\" Angela says. Britney sulks back down to her seat in silence. Landon walks into the room.\n\n\"Hey, Winston, I just saw that video of crying onyou the bus to I Want It That Way. Was that today?\" he says. The entire committee looks at him smiling.\n\n\"Oh, god, I just found it on Twitter,\" Jacob says.\n\n\"Let's keep things appropriate,\" Winston starts, but his voice is drowned by his own crying and singing Backstreet Boys.\n\n\"Why are you singing that song?\" Landon says.\n\n\"It is a beautiful song, and I am going through a rough patch with my wife,\" Winston says.\n\n\"Wow, some one has already made a mash-up of this and Daniel's Mr. Brightside,\" Jacob says.\n\n\"Alright, meeting adjourned, go home,\" Winston says. Everyone shrugs and leaves. They may want to see Winston embarrassed, but they want to go home more. Winston grabs Landon on the way out.\n\n\"Why did you decide to show up, today?\" Winston asks.\n\n\"The speaker told me that I would be kicked out if I didn't start showing up,\" Landon says.\n\n\"But you hate this job, why do you want to keep it?\" Winston asks.\n\n\"I hate the job, but I love the respect it gets me. My mom will not stop bragging about her son the Congressman. Also, my older brothers are infuriated.\" Landon says and walks out. Winston puts his hand to his face and starts to leave. The security guard plays I Want It That Way as Winston walks out the door." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Death is a deadly epidemic that is passed down genetically from mother to child. Earth is known by other human-populated planets under a different name: ‘The Quarantine Planet’" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I entered the building with a few uneasy steps. I was greeted by the sight of a huge hall decorated in banners with encouraging words printed in a dark purple color. Though I was not in the mood to read what, was certainly written by people, who had never experienced the anything even remotely comparable to what was waiting in my future, there bombastic appearance, calling out like a child wanting attention, made it impossible not to notice them.\n\n“We bid you farewell and a safe journey to a new life!”\n\n“Our technology will bring you safely to earth”\n\n“Salutations! Have a nice and comfortable journey”\n\n“Today is the beginning of the rest of your life”\n\nThe last one evoked a sick feeling in my stomach, that word just did not sit right with me still. Life. They were really trying to make us feel good leaving the comfort of our home.\n\nThe planet of Cicara had been my home up until now. Unlike most people I had not feared the death scan, as there had been no cases of mortality discovered in my family. I remember laughing at my friends who would not stop talking about their fear of a positive test. I guess that makes my situation a rather ironic one. My test found me mortal, and so I find myself here today, leaving Cicara for Earth.\n\nAt first I was terrified, Earth was a place you had only heard about in stories from the older kids in school when they tried to scare you, or from an uncle at a family event who had been pouring form the whisky bottle a little too much. Suddenly the stories that sounded like fantasy had become all too real.\n\nHere I was in the welcome hall of a place that forced you to say goodbye to everything that you ever knew. People were moaning and arguing with the staff, all while standing in neatly formed lines leading to different rooms. Each room had a sign above them indicating their function in the process of departure from Cicara. A rather rusty voice took me out of my own head and back to the nightmare that was this day.\n\n“I’m sorry, but can I see your papers, sir?”\n\nOne of the staff member, dressed in a neat suit in the same dreadful dark purple as the banners, had approached me, presumably to flow moving. Before I answered I could not help but feel pity for them, all the staff actually. What an unforgiving job, having to guide people through a process no one wanted to be a part of. I decided to hold back the harsh word that were about to come out of my mouth, as I acknowledge these people had nothing to do with my fate, and were only trying to do their job.\n\n“Yes of course, just give me a second, and let me get them from my backpack.”\n\nIn one swift motion I pulled my backpack off and found the papers that I had considered burning ever since they had arrived in the mail.\n\n“Aha, your papers tells me that you are assigned to group B, which means that you are going to start over there.”\n\nThe staff member handed my papers back to me, and with a friendly smile, pointed me towards a line at the far end of the room, that culminated at a small opening in the wall with a sign above unsurprisingly reading “Group B”.\n\nI resentfully took my place in the back of the line, which was moving forward at an impressive pace. The answer to the rather rapid moving line was to be found on the other side of opening in the wall. An enormous space presented itself, and it had been filled to the brim with small tables made from steel, which reflected the few sunrays that entered through the sparingly placed windows. As I entered I was immediately guided towards a free table. On the cold metallic surface of the table was a soft skin colored mask, and a little note beneath it saying “Face Your New Existence”. Confused as to what I had to do, I looked up and tried to observe what other people were doing at their tables. Most people were standing neatly at their table presumably following instructions, but a few people were resisting, but the staff members were quick to subdue them and drag them away. Seeing people getting dragged away like that, killed every rebellious thought I might have had in that moment.\n\nWith one final deep breath I turned the mask around, unnerved to see a fully fleshed out face, completely unrecognizable to me. Its features were very exaggerated, with puffy cheeks, and big eyes. The skin was smooth, and it looked like nothing I had ever seen before. To be honest I was drawn to the mask, it was cute and the reluctants I had from putting the mask on before, vanished. As the inside of the mask touched my skin, it immediately started to lose the feeling in my face, and instead it started to feel like my hands that was on the outside of the maske were touching my face. As the mask consumed my face I instantly felt smaller and the thoughts I had just before became more abstract and incomprehensible. My words left me and after a few moments I opened my eyes, and found myself in a bright room with many faded colors moving around. I felt like calling for help, but my words failed me, all the sound I was able to muster were cries of horror." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: There exists a city-state that has stood for centuries through countless wars. It has never been attacked, not even by the dragons or demons. Rather than through military power or diplomacy, it's stayed neutral because of a certain restaurant that is said to be as old as the city itself." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Several soldiers stirred sleepily as the smell of smoke slowly swept south from the city shortly before sunrise on the summer solstice. This was not the acrid scent of a city on fire that would typically be assailing the olfactory senses on a battle day, instead a sweet note hung in the air as the smoke passed. Barely there, it lingered for only a second before dissipating; the merest suggestion of a jam or syrup following a burst of bacon frying and mesquite smoked sausage sizzling in a skillet. The encampment began to move in earnest as the smell slid into tents and under blankets waking the small army with the promise of breakfast that would make the month of marching worth the trip even if no plunder was for the taking.\n\nCaptain Jimothy Jamberson of the 3rd Cavalry division walked out of his tent, knee popping every third step as he shook out the stiffness from the night. He threw his chest forward with shoulders pulled back as far as he could until he felt the crack in the middle back, slumping forward with the comfort of one more ache quickly disappearing. His neck snapped right, the loud pop eliciting an audible gasp of pleasure that died on his lips as he found himself face to face with Lieutenant Shoka. The young lieutenants light step was uncanny in the ability it gave him to sneak up on unsuspecting soldiers, and as the personal messenger for the Field Marshall a surprise visit was rarely welcomed by anyone below the rank of Major.\n\n“Lieutenant Shocker!” exclaimed Jimothy with a fake enthusiasm, the twinge at the corner of Shoka’s mouth giving him the smallest satisfaction. No stranger to unwanted nicknames, this was a perk of seniority. “To what do I owe the pleasure on this wonderful morning?”\n\n“Your presence is required at the war tent Captain. One of the sentries apprehended a courier from the city trying to sneak into camp carrying a package for you. Apparently, something gold from The Restauranteur.” The lieutenants voice was far deeper than the scrawny young body would suggest, far louder than was necessary at such a close range, and far far louder than Jimothy found acceptable before coffee.\n\nJimothy nodded at the summons, blinked once and started following the messenger to the war tent in the center of the camp. It was not until he saw the concerned look on the faces peeking out of tents on either side that his mind started catching up to the current events. A courier sent to him from the city they were putting under siege. A bag of gold with his name on it sent by The Restauranteur of all people. The most powerful man in Caddlanny sending a bag of gold to the captain of the only cavalry unit that the Mogtiri army employed. It did not take a captain of the Intelligencier to know that this did not look proper. In fact, improper was the best that it could look.\n\nThe drawback of a small army, other than having fewer troops than the other guy, was that the war tent was never far enough away. At least, that was the main drawback that Jimothy saw. While still trying to work through exactly what was going on, they drew up to the closed flap of the great pavilion and Lieutenant Shoka slipped inside to announce him. A hand snuck out beckoning for him and with a slight hesitation he walked into the war tent.\n\nHis hand snapped up to his eyebrow in a crisp salute to the Field Marshall on the other side of the map strewn table. As lax as the Captain may be with his own troops in the matter of customs and courtesies, he knew when to shut up and color. Field Marshall Devers stared at him unmoving for a long second before returning the salute and allowing him to relax. Relaxing fully was not in the cards for the cavalryman though as he saw the leather messenger bag laying on top of the pile of maps. Off to the side was a young man, maybe sixteen years old with a guard on either side looming over him. The man was short, not even five feet tall and he had the distinctive rusty skin of a Caddlanny, and the bright white eyebrows would give him away even in the most diverse of port city markets back in Mogtiri.\n\n“Captain,” the raspy whisper was never easy to reconcile with belonging to the general that had conquered Nesh, Armesa, and soon Caddlanny. “We have an interesting situation here. Young Deeproy here was intercepted less than fifty yards from our outer tent line with a message addressed to you in The Restauranteurs own hand. He insisted that you be the one to receive it, saying that his employer would take it as a personal affront if one of the Intelligencier were to be the one to break the seal. While I am sure to tickle the beast soon enough, I do not feel the need to poke him with a stick just yet. Go ahead and open it, let us see what gold has been promised to you for your services. Let me see if you are willing to turn.”\n\nLieutenant Shoka took a thick envelope from the table and passed it over to Jimothy who nervously flipped it over to reveal the red seal with a pair of crossed frying pans and an egg stamped into the wax, a mimicry of a pirate flag in a town 100 miles from a coast. He slipped out a small knife and cut off the seal, removing the letter inside from the envelope along with another smaller envelope. He flattened out the paper and began to read." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 400-500 words. Prompt: You gain superhuman strength and speed while drunk. There is a hostage situation at the first national bank! You grab your schnapps. This looks like a job for... STUPOR MAN!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The lights of the car in the alleyway were on, illuminating two dusty brick walls. The engine hummed a song into the darkness. A man sat in the car, dashboard lights lighting up his face, displaying his bald head, a square jaw lined with stubble. He wore a large trench coat, fabric concealing a skin tight suit.\n\nThe police scanner spoke first \"ATTENTION ALL OFFICERS. HOSTAGES TAKEN AT FIRST NATIONAL. SUSPECTS BELIEVED TO BE ARMED AND DANGEROUS.\"\n\nThe man nodded to nobody in particular. He reached behind him, fumbling around in the back seat. The dashboard lights glinted off a large bottle of schnapps. He popped the lid off, and began to chug. The liquor burned his throat as it went down, casting feelings of warmth down to his stomach. He sat, taking intermittent swigs from the bottle. His face began flush. After a spell, he carefully placed the bottle in the backseat. He swung open the door and spilled out into the alley. He straightened and threw off his trench coat onto the hood of the car.\n\nHe wore a blue skin tight suit, framing a rather unremarkable body. He patted himself down as if he had pockets, and then frantically searched through the trench coat, sighing in relief as he pulled out a mask. He put it on his face and looked to the sky. He then flexed his muscles. His body filled in the suit, stretching it to near it's limits. Muscles popped up from where there were none, and suddenly he was a human spectacle.\n\nThis display of might was followed by a less than confident stumble, as his feet tumbled over themselves. He shot his hand out to break his fall, and cratered in part of the brick where his hand hit. He straightened up again and sprinted to the end of the alleyway, passing cars flaring light onto his suit.\n\nA small boy stood in his way, looking up at the large man, eyes seemingly as large as the space between his jaw, mouth agape.\n\n\"Wh-Who are you mister??\"\n\nThe man waved his hand in the air, giving an indistinct gesture. He finally spoke, deep voice slipping out into the night air.\n\n\"Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound! It is I!\"\n\nThe boy began to jump up and down. He couldn't contain his excitement and interrupted\n\n\"SUPERMAN??\"\n\nThe man frowned, confused.\n\n\"No my dear boy.... STUPORMAN!\"\n\nThe boy frowned and painted his face with disgust as Stuporman threw up all over his shoes. Stuporman's words became less distinct.\n\n\"So thres.... This roberry! Big robry! Frst Nationl! Gotta go!\"\n\nHe brushed past the boy, crashing into parked cars and stop signs as he ran at top speed. The boy watched him go, and turned his head back, facing forward. He look at his shoes and sighed, eyes rolling up to the sky.\n\n\"Worst thing is First National is the other way.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: The apocalypse came. The rich and powerful people who caused it disappeared into their private bunkers to wait out the disaster. But groups of people left on the surface found ways to breach and loot such strong holds. This is the story of the Bunker Busters." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When everything finally collapsed, they were ready. Everything had been planned months, even years in advance, and their bunkers were filled to the brim with food, supplies, and luxuries. And an incredible amount of workers. Because surviving the fall of society was not enough. They had to have their own personal kingdom, with serfs, knights, and of course themselves at the top.\n\nIt was all neatly set up, hierarchy locked down through various crowd control means and contingency plans. Of all the bunkers we found, not one had succeeded in toppling the status quo. Sometimes people managed to escape, soon to succumb to the inhospitable climate and generally hostile environment brought by global warming. We found one bunker in which most of the personnel committed suicide. The rest eventually died when the bunker fell in disrepair, and the hydroponics failed. I guess that's what happens when you're exploited so much by your subterranean overlord that death seems an acceptable option.\n\nIt had been a harrowing few years. At the beginning, we still had some patches of forest, and the biosphere wasn't completely screwed yet. But with the billions of people now looking for food as the climate became too hot for agriculture, what was left of nature was flooded with hungry, desperate humans. What a shitshow. I think we hunted to extinction anything bigger than a rat. Then we hunted what was left : people. Fortunately, we soon found an alternative.\n\nSee, all the food was gone. But people don't eat high explosives crates. It all fell down so quickly, even generals and local army officers did not have enough time to set any dictatorship. Military bases that were already in a desert, back when our planet was not a solar oven, were abandoned pretty much instantly once the food stopped coming.\n\nIt took one fucking long journey, and we had to muster pretty much every ressource our small community could gather. Lost most of it too. But we came back with a truckload of breaching charges, shaped charges, high explosive ordinance. Also weapons, body armor, and not counting surveillance equipment, drones and radio systems. Hell, if we had had the fuel, we could even have brought back an actual armored truck.\n\nLooking back, I'm still not sure if that was the hardest part of out plan or not. If not, it would have been the first bunker. Most of the people we had back then did not have combat experience. Sure, surviving basically the fall of humankind was enough to make anyone as tough as nails, but murdering your neighbor for his flesh and hiding for a week in a swamp was hardly the same thing as assaulting a bunker protected by a private security force. And even if living for a couple years in a bunker will make you soft, they were well equipped, healthy, and fought like hell.\n\nIt was out of fear. It was the first thing I saw in their eyes. We breached through the main gate and I could see they instantly knew.\n\nI would have done the same. When a bunch of paramilitary skin-and-bone, feral barbarians with madness in their eye, nothing to lose and no humanity to preserve blow up the door of your home, you're not fighting for your possessions, or your way of life. You're fighting for your life.\n\nBut, mad and desperate as we were, there still was some things capable of shaking us. Most of the time, the overlords in the bunkers maintain order through access to food. Some had nerve gas ready to be diffused in the bunker. But one company of sick fucks provided explosive collars with their shelters, back the during the \"bunker rush\". They did not build too many installations, fortunately, but the men still dread the day we raid one of them again.\n\nOnce we broke through the defense put up by the security personel, we came face to face with automated defenses, as expected. Mobile bulletproof cover and careful positioning made short work of them, but as soon as we got past them, the rich pig in charge of the bunker detonated every worker's explosive collar.\n\nWe found the guy dead, foaming at the mouth in his command center, apparently having shot his advisors first.\n\nIt took us weeks to clean everything. But it was worth it. we finally had a place to shelter what was left of our families, and the bunkers could provide way more food than needed.\n\nSo we continued. We're way better at the job now, barely lose anyone during an attack. For example, breaking through the main gate gives way too much time for the guards to set up a defence. But not many expects a three-pronged attack through various tunnels accross the facility.\n\nSo we continue to liberate the bunkers. As long as our bodies will allow us to. We get rid of the rotten old-world filth hiding inside, to make way for those who survived. It is surely not right, but they had their shot at surviving this, and we have ours.\n\nWe crack open those buried seeds so those who rightly survived the fall can begin again.\n\nIt's surely not right.\n\nBut that's what we do.\n\n\n>!Sorry if the grammar, or some sentences seem funky. English is not my native language!<" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Something Ancient meets Something New" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was rapidly turning to dusk by the time we arrived at the jungle destination. By that time my clothes were drenched and sticking to me, and the mosquitoes and heaven knows what else were feasting on us. The guide had turned quiet those last few miles, and the pack boy wouldn't shut up. His voice turned to the same whining of the mosquitoes; just something to ignore.\n\nThe guide looked back at me with wide eyes. His flashlight lit ahead into a darkening clearing, where a single shamble of a hut lay. I say lay because it practically leaned in upon itself, about to give up its last ounce of strength and crumple in. I couldn't help but raise my ire.\n\n\"This is it?\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\n\"There were legends,\" the pack boy said adjusting the supplies, \"about the one in there. The eternal man, who has seen the shaping of the world. He sees with eyes that are stone, and moves with the speed of a growing tree and he...\"\n\n\"For someone who's supposed to be eternal,\" I said, \"he sure chose a shitty place to live. Tell me I didn't pay you for nothing.\"\n\nThe guide shook his head, and gestured to the shack.\n\n\"What, you're not coming with me?\"\n\nThis got him to talk. I knew the speech of the natives, yes, but he spoke with such bile and with such speed that I knew it would do no good. I attempted to placate him by holding my hands up, promised he didn't have to come. Then he started shouting and threw the flashlight at my feet.\n\n\"Hey! You won't be getting the second half of the promised pay unless you bring us back!\" I shouted after him. He didn't turn, and strode into the jungle.\n\n\"He'll be coming back in a bit, right?\"\n\nThe pack boy stared at me.\n\n\"Now you go quiet. Great.\"\n\nI wasn't about to leave empty handed. I strode through the tall grass to the dilapidated hut, the boy following in my wake. I couldn't help but whip my flashlight at the tall stalks of grass and I hoped I wasn't muttering to myself. The boy would have thought he was following a crazy man.\n\nThe door hung off the frame, attached by rotting leather straps. It was like this country had never heard of iron hinges, or anything civilized. From behind the cracked door, an ungodly smell positively menaced. It was the smell of wet clothing being attacked by mold, of uneaten food long since rotted away, of unwashed death. If that was the smell of immortality then I knew I was in for disappointment.\n\nI raised my handkerchief to my mouth and shouldered open the door. I shouldn't have bothered, my weight nearly took the whole place out. The smell, if possible, was even worse inside, and looked as much in a shambles as it appeared outside. The boy tried to follow me, but made it to the door frame and vomited just outside. I envied him; now all he had to smell was his own throw up.\n\nThe flashlight had a narrow beam inside. It was strange; it was a high powered piece from the States and worked well enough outside in the jungle, but inside, it was light the air was as littered with as much debris as the floor was. I swung the light from corner to corner, searching for what was promised, but all I saw was rotting piles of cloth, a fly ridden corpse and piles upon piles of wooden bowls stacked high.\n\n\"Son of a bitch.\" I kicked and toppled one of the bowl stacks.\n\nI suppose that was enough to startle the inhabitant. What I had taken as a corpse moved. At first I thought it was a spasm, the kind of twitching that happens when a corpse's muscles shrink in decay. Slowly, the emaciated thing that was covered in flies pushed itself up into a sitting position. Its head was the largest thing about it, with a large domed forehead on a twig neck. It looked like nothing but skin and bones and teeth.\n\nThe teeth were terrifying to me. It was a rigor-mortis smile, where the lips had shrunk back until all that was left was a full yellow grin. I couldn't have told you the color or look of its eyes, because it was covered in flies and larvae.\n\nTo my horror, it raised a claw-like hand and pointed a finger at me. What sounded like wheezing echoed past its teeth. It could have been communication but I didn't stay long enough to figure it out. Instead, I stumbled out of the hut, made my own messy addition to the boy's pile, and pulled the pack boy away.\n\nIt was a long trek back to the village, but we only spoke a few words. The boy asked, \"What was in there?\"\n\nI said, \"The difference between being immortal and being invincible.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: Demons and fae hate each other. Not for any metaphysical reason— if anything, they’re too similar, both favoring one-sided bargains and clever contracts. So when a human’s made a bad deal, they always find a lawyer from the other side." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This is literally a theme in my r/worldofdemihumans\n\nThe elevator dinged and opened revealing Benjamin North the small army of armed men pointing their guns at him. With a smile, he stepped off the elevator and across the room to the reception desk and started dinging the bell. The gunmen kept their guns aimed at him, \"Hello, I'm here to see the Demon Baron Tal'ka Noose. Hello.\"\n\nHe continued to ding the bell over and over and over. Eventually, a man in a full suit stepped into the room and strolled behind the reception desk. He stared at Benjamin who simply kept dinging the bell. The man shot a hand over the bell between Benjamin's dings and in a smooth push down flatten the bell. Returning to his dignified stance, \"Name one reason I shouldn't have these fine men replace your blood and bones with lead.\"\n\n\"Because you can't.\" Was Benjamin's response.\n\nThe man nodded, \"Very well. This way if you please.\"\n\nThe two men followed a path down a hall lined with art made for kings, and at the end, a door made of wood so fine that it likely costed more than a politician. They opened and enter a room that definitely cost more than a politician, and at the end behind a desk was the Tal'ka Noose, The Demon Baron of Jersey City.\n\n\"Good morning Mr. Noose. My name is Benjamin North. I'm here to fuck up your whole day.\" Benjamin introduced himself.\n\n\"I know who you are Mr. North. I also know that if I can reasonably believe that you are wasting my time, I can end yours.\" Baron Noose seemed at first glance like a mundane human, but it was the second glance that reveal the telltale sign of his true form. The red iris that glowed just that couldn't be sure if it was just a reflection. The jet-black hair that never seemed to be perfectly still. The fingernails that looked a little sharper than they should. And of course, the absolute vile look of hatred that drilled into everything they landed.\n\n\"Then I'll get to the point. The Moondust Family is suing for the death of their youngest member.\" Benjamin explained, \"You took what they held most valuable. Now they want what you hold most valuable.\"\n\n\"The brat came into my territory and caused problems of his own will.\"\n\n\"Yes, but he was registered as a diplomat, and you killed him without warning.\"\n\n\"Registration was made after he enter my turf.\"\n\n\"But before you killed him. Ain't bureaucracy amazing.\"\n\n\"The death was made in response to a request to a human the fairy boy had in his possession.\"\n\n\"Yes, we know. She told us when she contacted us because you took her into your possession.\"\n\n\"We took her into our protection.\"\n\n\"Yeah. What a bitch. Am I right? Still, here we are. Now you going to pay, or am I going to have to file for a court date\" Benjamin said. He stared the Baron in the eye when a small came from the back.\n\n\"Dad? Who is this man? Is he causing trouble?\" A asked from the doorway off to the side of the door. He was barely ten at most and had the red eyes of a demon. He scowled at Benjamin, \"You better not be threatening my dad! Because I don't take threats very well.\"\n\n\"Adrian! Get out of here! NOW!\" Baron Noose yelled scaring the young boy. He gulped and gave one last dirty Benjamin before closing the door.\n\n\"Cute kid.\" Benjamin said.\n\n\"He's nothing. Don't you concern yourself with him.\"\n\n\"Ooh, sounds like you care. Is he what you value most?\" Benjamin crossed his arms.\n\nTal'ka Noose stared at the man with a hatred that could kill. Literally. A lesser being would have burned away under it, this just stood there. \"I don't understand. Our files said you hate fairies.\"\n\n\"Oh, I do. I hate all fairies. I have them crucified on I-beams if I could. And pour iron shaves on them just for fun, but I hate people like you far more.\"\n\n\"People like me?\" Noose narrowed his eyes.\n\n\"People who think they do whatever they want just because no one can stop them.\" Benjamin explained, \"Going around and shaping the world how they want just because they don't what to be inconvenienced. And I have the silver tongue of a fairy, so you know I'm telling the truth. Now pay up.\"\n\n\"I have nothing of value. All that I possess is nothing but a catch in my whims.\" Noose said, \"What the fairies ask for does not exist. I have no obligation to amuse their demands.\"\n\n\"What about the kid? I bet he got a mom too.\" Benjamin said.\n\n\"I said he is nothing.\"\n\n\"You willing to say that under oath in a court of law?\"\n\nBaron Noose stared the man down. \"Leave. Tell the fairies to make their schedule. They will get nothing.\"\n\n\"Alright then. Have a nice day.\" And with that Benjamin left. Leaving the Demon Baron alone.\n\nTal'ka Noose thought to himself for a moment. He ruled the city for decades and had gained a level of power that risked catching the irk of national powers. All of it was worthless to him. Just rocks stacked to the sky and more strength than he needed. He rose and went to the door the boy was at earlier and opened it. On the other side was a space that seemed as if it could be in a suburban home. Entering he looked around the home. Around a corner appear a woman.\n\nSusan Priest stopped in her tracks. Frozen like a deer that caught a hint of a predator. She carried a one-year-old baby on her hip, \"Ka. Is something wrong?\"\n\nTal'ka walked up to Susan and their second son. Ambrose, they named him. Tal'ka put a hand over the babe's head. He was so small. Just like Adrian use to be. Just every being used to be. Even the stoppable monsters that ruled the underworld like himself. Tal'ka closed his eyes and turned his smile into a hateful scowl and looked Susan right in the eyes. \"Leave.\"\n\n\"What?\" Susan was shocked. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean leave. You and your spawn are not welcome here, or anywhere else in my domain. You have until the last light of dawn. Take where ever you wish. Anything you leave behind will be destroyed.\" Baron Noose turned and walked away.\n\n\"Ka, you can't-\"\n\n\"I can. And the fact I just did is evidence to that. Sundown. Or else.\" Baron Noose walked back into his office and closed the door behind him. With a wave he sealed the door shut and returned to his desk. He pushed a button and spoke, \"Deacon.\"\n\nIn an instant, the suited man that had guided Benjamin was before the desk, \"My lord.\"\n\n\"Deacon, be sure Susan and the boys are out of the city limit by dusk and a moment later.\" Deacon acknowledged the order and just as quickly was gone.\n\nThe Demon Baron Tal'ka Noose turned in his chair and looked over his city, and it was his city. He had worked to gain every square foot under his control and made sure no one would challenge him. The sun was just nearing the peak of its summer journey across the sky. He knew fairies were the sort to time thing in line with the important parts of the day. They made their demand official at the strike of dusk, and by then there would be nothing in the city of any value to The Demon Baron Tal'ka Noose." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: A man dies and ends up on a game show in the afterlife." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The droning notes of the organ echoed through the caverns of Hell. The damned, shackled to the walls, struggled to clap their hands as they recognized the theme song of Hell’s favorite game show.\n\n“Good evening, everyone!” Lucifer said, taking his place on the stage. “And welcome to ‘Where’d I Go Wrong?’ The show that begs the question: ‘Where’d I go wrong?’”\n\nThe lost souls around him took a break from their moans of misery and laughed obediently at the Prince of Darkness’s joke.\n\n“I’m your host, Lucifer. Let’s meet tonight’s contestant.”\n\nLucifer’s hooves clopped on the hardwood stage as he approached the contestant’s podium.\n\n“Tonight, we have Richard Patterson with us. How you doing, Rich? Mind if I call you Rich?”\n\nRich’s jaw hung as he looked up at the epitome of evil towering over him. Satan leaned one of his muscular, red arms against the podium.\n\n“Man of few words, eh, Rich? I respect that. Hopefully you’ll feel more talkative once the questions start rolling. First, a little background on our contestant. He works in... or should I say worked... in the restaurant business. He likes bike-riding; golfing; and, somewhat ironically, e-mailing long lists of lawyer-in-hell jokes to his friends and family.”\n\n“Th-th-this isn’t right,” Rich stammered. “I don’t belong here. I’m a church-going man! I coached my son’s little league team! This doesn’t make any sense! I’m not a bad person!”\n\n“Haven’t heard that before,” Satan said, raising one bushy eyebrow at the camera. The audience of the damned laughed. “But don’t you worry, Rich. We’re gonna get to the bottom of this tonight oooonnnnnn:”\n\n“WHERE’D! I! GO WROOOONNGGGG!!!” the damned chanted.\n\n“Alright, Rich,” the Prince of Darkness said, returning to the host's podium and as reading from a card. “First question. Why did you start attending church?”\n\n“What?”\n\n“Why did you start attending church?”\n\n“Uh... I don’t... I wanted to find the meaning of life.”\n\n“Ooooohhhh I think I’d better take this opportunity to remind you to structure your answer in the form of a question. Just like Jeopardy. We tend to be sticklers around here for rules. I know that might be... shocking!”\n\nLucifer punched a button on his podium and the shackles binding the audience of the damned to the wall filled with electricity. The lost souls struggled to laugh at Satan’s joke while thousands of volts of electricity flowed through their bodies.\n\n“Ok. What is the meaning of life?”\n\n“Couldn’t tell you, Rich!” Satan chuckled. “The answer to that question is upstairs!”\n\nRich shook with fear as the audience laughed again.\n\n“But I’m afraid I can’t give you credit for that answer,” Lucifer said with a shrug. “You actually joined your church to get closer to Tina White. And we all know how that turned out!”\n\nA sad trombone came from the sound booth.\n\n“Alright, Rich. Next question. How much money did you steal from your mother?”\n\n“What?”\n\n“We’re talking cumulatively. Between that time you went through her purse in the fourth grade and the money you took out of her bank account a week before she died.”\n\n“Look,” Rich started. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. My dad didn’t leave me a penny of inheritance. And she didn’t need it. She didn’t even know what day it was towards the end. What did she need a big screen TV for?”\n\n“No need to explain yourself,” Satan said. “We’re not about judgment down here. That’s His jurisdiction,” Lucifer said, pointing up. “But I am going to have to press you for an answer.”\n\n“What is.... $20,000?”\n\n“Oh! So close! The actual answer was $108,244.18!\n\n“A hundred grand!” Rich said, taking a step back. “I.... I didn’t know-”\n\n“Next question!” Satan interrupted. “How much money did your brother-in-law invest in your restaurant?”\n\n“He... uh... he gave me that loan a few years ago when we were starting to go under. What is twenty grand?”\n\n“Sorry, Rich. Wrong again. He gave you twenty grand, but you only invested half of it in the restaurant. The other half went towards that speedboat you got! Whoo boy was he upset when you invited him out on that boat that he paid for. Not to mention the other two thousand you stole from him later.”\n\n“Hold on. What actually happened was that he-”\n\n“Next question! How many people showed up to your funeral?”\n\nThe question stole the voice right out of Rich’s lungs. He scratched behind his neck and looked at his podium.\n\n“Clock is ticking, Rich!” Satan said.\n\n“I.... I don’t know. What is.... ten people?”\n\n“Sorry, Rich. Today is just not your day! The answer was one.”\n\n“One?!” Rich exclaimed. “Was my son the only one who could spare a couple hours to-”\n\n“Well, I don’t know if you remember,” the Prince of Darkness interrupted. “But your son had a big job interview in New York that weekend. Not like it was his fault or anything. He scheduled it before your heart attack.”\n\n“He wasn’t there?”\n\n“You seem surprised. He saw the way you treated your mother toward the end of her life. I guess he didn’t treat you with much respect either. The sins of our fathers, eh? Who knows? Maybe he'll be a contestant one day.\"\n\n“So my wife was the only one there?”\n\n“No, not her either. Your son needed a ride to New York. It was too big of an opportunity to miss out on!”\n\n“Did anyone from the restaurant-” Rich stopped himself, realizing what an absurd question he was about to ask. “Who was it?” he asked instead.\n\n“That brings us nicely to our last question! Who was the one person you would never steal from?”\n\n“The one person?”\n\n“You only stole from a few people. But let’s face it, Rich. If you had the opportunity, you would’ve stolen from anyone. But you just weren’t smart enough to get away with it. So answer this question. Who was the only exception?”\n\nRich looked at his feet and leaned against the podium.\n\n“Tina White,” he whispered with tears in his eyes. “She was the only one at the funeral.”\n\n“Congratulations!” Satan said, clapping his hands. “You finally got a question right. Unfortunately, you forgot to structure it in the form of a question, so I can’t give you credit. Well, Rich, I’m sorry you couldn’t get any questions right, but you’ll have plenty of time to think about how you could’ve done it differently.”\n\nA pair of winged demons swooped onto the stage. They dragged Rich, kicking and screaming, into the pits of Hell.\n\n“Well,” Satan said looking into the camera. “I’ll see you next time on ‘Where’d I Go Wrong?’”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: One day you wake up in the middle of a runic circle, surrounded by cowled men with horns. The leader steps forward and laughs maniacally. “I have finally done it. I shall bring destruction upon demonkind with the human I’ve summoned!” On the walls you see articles about global warming. You gulp" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The human blinked, surprised at the obviously strange situation...\n\n“So, uh, hi. My name is Jacob.” The collection of cultists cried out: “Hail Jacob, Slayer of Atmosphere!” The head cultist, a slender, tall, and purple demon with elk horns, hushed his followers and spoke to Jacob. “And I am L’kan. We are the Circle of Sacred Sin, oh mighty Jacob, please lead us to the destruction of our race with your world breaking powers!”\n\nJacob took a moment to breathe and think. The cultists waited with bated breath for Jacob’s response. After roughly a minute of confusion, Jacob finally recovered enough to ask some questions. “So... what do I get from helping you?” The cultists began to whisper. “It’s real...” “Human greed...” “Goods and services...” L’kan shushed his followers and beckoned forth a young, attractive demoness from the crowd.\n\nThis demoness had blood red skin, delicate ram’s horns, wide hips, large breasts, and a soft, womanly face... but the bodily curves were only hinted at through her extremely modest robes. “This is M’rolla, a reformed succubus. She is eager to serve and sate any desires you may have, sexual or otherwise, as your loyal and dutiful wife. Her loyalty to our cause, and by extension to you, is unwavering. And of course, you have all of our loyalty as well. We will do our absolute best to satiate the legendary greed of the human species.”\n\nJacob crinkled his brow in thought. “And you want me to do... what exactly?” L’kan walked with purpose to the door outside the cult room and motioned for Jacob to come. As Jacob followed, the rest of the cultists waited for Jacob’s return. When L’kan reached the door. He opened it. The sight was not... what Jacob expected from a hell scape. It was barren and cold, a verifiable arctic tundra. L’kan cast his eyes to the ground in sorrow.\n\n“Us demons have failed. Our beautiful home of crevices and fire reeds has fallen under a drought of eternal cold. We don’t know why, or how, but we have clearly failed if nature has forsaken us so. But... our ritualists stumbled upon the human dimension. We have seen that humans have heated up their world. We have observed humans, and attempted to summon a male, the observed leaders, to heat up our world as well.\n\nJakob’s face fell. “That’s... I can’t do that. The best I can do is lie and keep your followers hopeful that one day their dream will come true. It takes billions of people and hundreds of years to melt all this ice. And you don’t want billions of people.” L’kan tilted his head down slightly, gazing at an insignificant difference in the monotone landscape. “I... I see. We can’t send you back. I’m sorry.” Jacob took a deep breath, puffing up his chest in preparation. “We have to go back down and tell them something. Anything to keep their hopes high.” L’kan grimaced. “I can’t lie to them. Not my followers. My family.” Jacob looked off into the snow. “Then I guess you won’t have to lie. Tell them humans won’t cooperate.” And then Jacob walked off into the snow. His thin jacket and jeans weren’t enough to stave off the cold. Jacob heard once that falling asleep in the snow is a peaceful way to die. He hoped that was true." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: A war begins as a bar fight, becomes a regional war, expands to become a world war, and is concluded in the same bar it started in." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Glass crunched under a myriad of pairs of boots as the door to the \"lugubrious lecherous lout\" swung open for the first time in 24 years. The official name of this 3-floor den was simply LLL. That's what appeared on the tax documents the bar sent to both Russia and Turkey. The island of Donetski sits ten miles from the coast of the city of Sevastepol, in the freshly-taken powder keg that is the Russian Ukraine. The tiny, 6 mile long island has had more flags flown over it than an illicit trade vessel. The hammer and sickle, blue and bright yellow, then the crescent, for a brief spell a vibrant green and gold Nordic cross from a short lived independence movement. For most of its modern history however, one side had a town flying the Turkish crescent, the other flew the Russian tricolor. At the very center, in an ancient husk of a bicycle factory sat the LLL. It sprawled like a fat old woman across the \"international border\" an enjoyed the perks of selling vodka to Turks and whores to Russians.\n\nSunlight dappled the ruins of chairs, tables, barstools and couches. French premiere Etienne Bernaque eyed the wreckage around him and the gaping hole above him with trepidation. The Chinese and Korean diplomats had found a heavy desk and dragged it under the hole. Other diplomats searched out usable chairs, creating a motley of furniture surrounding the wide, weathered oak table. Wide, boisterous American Secretary of State Adam Chrysler (no relation, as he was fond of saying) had stepped out from behind the ruined bar holding four dusty liquor bottles. He placed them in the center of the table and settled himself neatly between the Japanese envoy and the Canadian Defense chairman on a dusty, lopsided sofa.\n\n14 people, one empty chaise lounge. Everyone looked at one another a moment. The Russian defense minister locked eyes with Bernaque, then Chrysler, then back to Bernaque. The German chancellor stared meaningfully at the British prime minister. The Saudi prince glared at the liquor bottles on the table, where the Australian Interior minister gave them his best bedroom eyes. The members of the African Union generally stated at the floor, with the exception of the Sour Somalian statesman who wouldn't take his eyes off of the Egyptian director general. The quiet was thick enough to spread, dense with hostility and tension. Chrysler cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his seat.\n\n\"Bring them in.\"\n\n24 years ago it was an average Sunday happy hour at the LLL and as per normal, tensions were agitated. The bar ran between the two \"countries\", with green and gold Donetski cross painted on a cloth partition. 12 Turkish seamen and 22 Russian naval officers were hurling insults back and forth through the partition, voices thick with drink and hate. Slurs about mothers and fathers and soldiers and promiscuous women where the standard and the language was as blue as blue gets, even for sailors. It was natural pent-up aggression from a week of sailing their battleships as close to the opposing port as they dared. What wasn't natural was the first bottle. It was expertly lobbed through the 2-foot gap between the sagging curtain rod on which the patroon hung and the ceiling, a shot so perfect the thrower probably didn't intend to hit russian vice admiral Urmanski Urtazi full in the face.\n\nThe silence was brief. It was enough for one of the career seaman's withered gasps to be heard, and for every Russian sailor to see his face leaking blood onto the barroom floor. Over the bar they went, with a roar loud, long and viscous. Such a melee had never before or since graces the halls of the lugubrious lecherous lout. Fists, bottles, chairs, service knives and brass knuckles, stool legs and bits of trim, swift kicks and brutal roars came together with cracks, crunches and meaty thumps. Then, above it all, a shrill whistle began a steady dive in pitch.\n\nAfter many years of historical archeology it was determined what exactly happened. A bloody Russian lieutenant had scrambled from the brawl and found himself on the Turkish side of the border. He sprinted to the nearest radio, on a table near the recently abandoned checkpoint. Confused about where he was, he called for reinforcements to their position, and hollered the coordinates just before two of the Turks grabbed him and began to beat him. This message, a Russian calling for reinforcements to a known border crossing, was picked up by Turkish air command and relayed to 2 F-16A fighter aircraft. It was also picked up by Russian defense forces who sent a squad of jeeps, with the goal of breaking up the fight. The pilots, however, had just turned over the island and saw the column of support. They had all the clearance they needed and opened up. All 4 jeeps were destroyed, and two missiles struck the bar. 44 Russian men and 21 Turkish were killed in the bombardment. It was the anvil that broke the camels back.\n\nThe Russian \"counter offensive\" was much more...extravagant. A full battlegroup of ships and advanced Su-35 planes circled on the Turkish port and annihilated it. Every ship was sunk, every building leveled and 400 casualties reported. The starting whistle had been blown, and all hell summarily broke loose. A combined NATO assault was organized to teach the Russian fleet a lesson, but this was a country that had been waiting for a good war for too long. Turkey had little hope without its allies, but before the European nations had begun the first \"umm\" of a legendary round of \"umming and erring\" major airports had been hit with bombs, costal emplacements shelled to rubble. The Kurds declared allegiance to Russia after a promise of independence, and every fundamentalist fringe group began to bellow.\n\nThe NATO counter attack was a shambles. Half the force withdrew almost immediately after the assault began, electing that the Americans would \"take care of the issue\". No such luck, and the American fleets 42 F-58 combined arms stealth strike fighters where downed by hidden Russian-Kurdish border guns. It was a disaster that only emboldened the newly invigorated superpower. In the utter chaos and fear of a cold conflict heating up, North Korea began a planned bombardment of Seoul. following a proportional response, Pyongyang attempted to launch its brand new fleet of ICBMs at Australia, Japan, and the west coast. They, unfortunately for some and fortunately for millions, exploded on the launch pad creating the largest man-made explosion in world history.\n\nWar is hell, and more to the point war is extremely confusing. It took 21 years of combat between 72 nations on 6 of the 7 continents, followed by three years of a bubbling stew of conflicts that threatened to boil back over before the surviving national structures agreed to pick representatives and sit down to earn at least some peace for the scared and battered earth. And so, back in the LLL, four men were led into the dusty abandoned bar and seated on the slim couch at the end of the table, under the hole that some say started the war. All were handcuffed, and none looked pleased to be jammed onto a filthy couch surrounded by diplomats.\n\n\"So...\" Began a rail-thin shiny bald man on the far left\n\n\"Let's deal.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A famed detective is murdered at his dinner party, and it's up to the butler to figure out whodunnit." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In his eight years of service to the illustrious detective York, George had never once been called upon to contribute even a shred of testimony to a case. He was as qualified to conduct an investigation as his master's pet parrot. Yet, here he was, elected the de facto leader for the case on account of his airtight alibi. What would York have done were he still alive?\n\nThe velvety voice of his master came wandering back to him. \"Interrogation is the first step to solving a case.\"\n\nGeorge lowered himself into a squat, eye-to-eye with York's 10-year-old nephew Jonas. \"Did you do it?\"\n\n\"No,\" he sniffed. A tear trickled out the corner of his eye.\n\n\"Sorry.\" George blushed and shuffled three steps to the right to face the next person on the couch. \"What about you?\"\n\n\"Goodness, no!\" York's fiancé, Petunia, blew her nose on a lace handkerchief and rubbed her reddened eyes.\n\n\"Well, by process of elimination...\" George crossed the couch, back past Petunia, past Jonas, all the way to the left end. \"...it must be you.\"\n\n\"I ain't responsible.\" Simon, York's drug dealer, adjusted his sunglasses and perched a cigar between his teeth.\n\nWell, step one had failed. Being a detective was harder than it looked. Frowning, George dropped into an empty armchair. What was next?\n\nYork's voice rang in his ears once again. \"Look for clues.\"\n\nThe cause of death had been a blow to the back of the head, administered by a blunt object. The room was beginning to fill with smoke, smoke that bore a distinct odor...\n\n\"Simon, is that a blunt?\"\n\n\"No, dude. It's just a regular cigar. Stop asking dumb questions.\" Simon waggled his walking stick threateningly at George.\n\nHis attention turned back to Jonas. He was a small kid, light enough to be picked up and carried around—or used as a bludgeoning weapon. Petunia yawned, fibrous cords rippling in her muscular arms. A grisly image began to form within George's head. Jonas noticed that George was staring at him and began to sob into a pillow.\n\n\"Look, George,\" Petunia said, interrupting his reverie, \"we appreciate your efforts, but maybe we should turn this case over to the police.\"\n\nA disgrace, that was what he was. How could he be so incompetent as to fail to avenge his master? York's final words came rushing back to him: \"George, quit standing around like a buffoon, and go brew us some tea.\" Even his master would've probably predicted his failure. Perhaps he was better off sticking to what he knew.\n\n\"Okay, I'll call the police,\" George said, \"but first, let me make all of you some tea.\"\n\nThe four waited around for the police to arrive, sipping on their cups. Simon folded his arms and harrumphed, chewing on his cigar. Petunia stared at the ceiling morosely. Jonas was still sniffling. He suddenly began to cough, clutching his stomach and tumbling to the floor.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" Petunia rushed over to his side. She, too, began to cough, as did Simon.\n\n\"It's true,\" George said solemnly, \"I could never be half the detective York was. But that didn't mean I couldn't solve the case: I just had to do things my way.\" He held up a small vial. \"I poisoned all of your tea. If the murderer doesn't come forward, all of you will die.\"\n\n\"You're a monster!\" Petunia shrieked. She had wrapped Jonas in her arms: he was half-unconscious now, spit dribbling down his chin. \"How could you poison an innocent child?\" Simon nodded in agreement, shaking on the floor, on all fours. \"That was dirty, bro. But fine, I confess. It was me.\"\n\nA vision of York appeared before George: he was standing in a golden field in the afterlife, nodding, impressed. \"Good work, my old friend.\" George bowed. The antidote slipped out of his jacket pocket and shattered on the floor." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: You let your cat out every day and they always end up bringing something back for you from the world. Today, they brought you something that should not even exist in this world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Henry slid open the back door and called into the garden \"Professor Whiskers, dinner!\"\n\nHe glanced around, trying to peer into the depths of the bushes that the Professor sometimes liked to pounce from, but she was no where to be seen, and so he sat the bowl down just inside the door before sliding it closed until it was only open just enough for the cat to enter.\n\nHis duties complete, he returned to the kitchen, where he was almost finished with his own dinner; an Irish beef stew with a thick sauce and chunks of carrot and potato, the smell of which was already wafting throughout the house.\n\nFifteen minutes later he returned carrying his own dinner to no sign of the cat, but Henry was not worried for this was not abnormal; the Professor was obsessed with food, but eating was only her second priority; her first was a strange habit that she had held ever since she was a kitten. Whenever she ventured out she had to bring a gift back that she would proudly present; Henry liked to think that it was payment for services rendered.\n\nOf course, the \"payment\" was often undesirable; a large leaf, a pair of stained shorts, a rotten bird - Henry's stomach turned at the memory of the last, and he quickly moved on before he was turned off his own dinner. Other times, however, it was desirable; money or better.\n\nAt this thought he glanced up at the mantelpiece, above which was a framed silver bracelet; his girlfriend Anne's dearest possession, before she had passed to cancer. He had lost it in a move, but by some miracle the Professor had returned one evening with it dangling from her mouth; Henry did not know how such a thing was possible but he was committed to never losing it again, and so he had framed the necklace - and treated the Professor to tuna every night for a week.\n\nOn the mantelpiece itself sat another gift; a letter from Anne, slightly dogeared by virtue of being carried in a cats mouth for an unknowable distance, but remarkable for the contents. He did not know when she had written it, or how the cat had found it, but he was glad she had, for it was written to speak to him from after her passing and had proved a great comfort in the years since.\n\nHe was snapped back to the present as the heat of his plate became a little too hot for comfort, and so he sat down at the long, lonely dining table and was just starting to tuck in when the soft ringing of a cat bell made him look up; there was the Professor, slipping through the door and past the food in a bee-line for Henry.\n\n\"What do you have for me today, little one?\" he asked, but the cat was carrying nothing. Instead, she started to meow loudly, and into view stepped Anne. Henry's cutlery tumbled from his hands and onto the floor, at which point the cat lost all interest in the proceedings and dashed for the chunk of meat still pierced by the fork.\n\n\"My god, Anne? Is it you?\"\n\nShe slid open the door and stepped inside, saying \"It's me, love\"\n\nHe pushed back from the table and stood up. \"It can't be; this isn't possible.\" He swallowed \"You died, ten years ago.\"\n\nShe stepped forwards and he stepped backwards, tripping over the cat who meowed in displeasure. \"I did, and I was alone, lost in the darkness, not ready to go forwards, unable to move backwards - but our miracle kitten found me, thrice. The first time, she took my bracelet. The second time, she brought me a gift of pen and paper and returned with a letter I wrote you. I never believed the third time would happen, that the third time was possible, but it did and it was; she returned, and she guided me back; the path was dark and twisted, but she knew it well and guided me home.\"\n\nHenry broke down into tears and she stepped forward again; this time he didn't maintain the distance and instead let her approach, step by step, until she reached out and took his hands. \"It really is me; I don't know how long I'll be here for, but for now I am back\"\n\nHenry looked into her eyes, and he believed her." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A race of predators reaches primacy in a galaxy full of prey. Every aspect of their military is geared toward pursuit as every other race they have encountered prefers to flee in the face of conflict. Every other race, until now." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The monitoring station on Pluto managed to track the UFOs for several minutes, displaying seven of them emerging from deep space. The first grainy images showed ships that were jet black and sleek-looking, exquisitely aerodynamic, built purely for speed using a technology we couldn't comprehend. Whoever they were, the crew on board those ships were far more advanced than us.\n\nAny hope of peaceful contact vaporized when they blasted our station out of Pluto's orbit, leaving the wreckage to float in space forever. A thought went out to our team stationed there, three souls that didn't stand a chance.\n\nTitan fell next, followed by four more of our Phase Three expansions. Each time the attack pattern was the same. The ships would streak in en mass and unload a nuclear barrage from orbit, saturating any developed areas with radiation. The bombs themselves were a derivative of our own nuclear weapons, which we could understand. That gave us some comfort. After the initial bombardment the ships would descend in a linear pattern, usually landing at equidistant points along the planet's equator. Their crews would emerge and hunt down the survivors, exterminating any human or other biological lifeforms that remained. As far as we knew, no-one was taken prisoner.\n\nEach time they attacked we watched and we learned a little more. We evacuated our remaining Phase Three planets but our colony ships were sitting ducks, only to be hunted down and pulverized in a pathetically futile game of cat and mouse. We learned that the alien's physiology mimic'd their ships. That they each had a sleek black carapace that curved over their shoulders and tapered off in a point on their lower backs. They were built for incredible speed, we measured one covering over two miles in just under two minutes. They had large forearms and sinister claws on the outermost fingers of each pincer-like hand, almost as if they were evolved purely to kill.\n\n\"They're essentially the perfect predator,\" Alice said, unable to hide her awe. She should have been concerned about all this, about the fact that humanity's colonies were falling one by one to an unknown force, but all she really felt was wonder. Her team had been studying the aliens for a few days now, and, though she knew it was a little twisted, she felt a grudging admiration for the hostile species. The closest Earth-bound analog she had were sharks, an oceanic predator that had disappeared over a century ago.\n\nCommander Roland grunted his assent. \"Essentially indeed, Doctor,\" he said, casting his eye over the command center. The room was tense but it wasn't frenetic. The aliens were very predictable. Once they discovered a human colony or station, they immediately targeted it using the same tactic every single time. Humanity had been mobilizing its planetary defense capability since the ships first emerged from deep space.\n\n\"Never thought I'd appreciate the Military-Industrial Complex this much,\" Roland muttered, hoping that all that doomsday politicking would finally pay off.\n\nThe alien ships launched their first nukes just as they entered within range of the Red Planet, but each missile was neutralized by our interceptors before penetrating the atmosphere. We waited until the ships were closer before firing a salvo of EMPs, timed to go off along set points on the intercept path. The aliens seemed to travel the shortest parabolas possible to their targets, making the calculations easy. Call it a hunch, but Roland figured they had never encountered EMP tech before.\n\nSomewhat but not-so surprisingly all of the EMPs detonated within area effect blasts of their targets. From there it was easy. Space Marines boarded each ship in turn and exterminated their alien crews, trying to capture one alive but ultimately leaving no survivors. The things were suicidal in their fanaticism.\n\nHumanity breathed a collective sigh of relief as the seven empty ships were safely brought down to the planet's surface. Even now, our finest scientists are making significant progress in reverse engineering this fascinating new warp-drive technology.\n\nThe Stars beckon." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: You order all-you-can-eat pancakes and now that is all that you can eat." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The splitting headache was the least of David's problems. More alarming to the 19 year old were the restraints around his legs and the wires protruding from his stomach, leading directly into the circuit breaking to his left. David darted his eyes around the sterile room. The room was small and barely furnished. David estimated it was maybe the size of his apartment bathroom. As best he could, David took note of his surroundings. His room contained a table, chair, futon pad, television, and toilet. On the table was a plate, fork, knife and small glass dispenser with a brown liquid.\n\nJust as David's headache began to subside, the television switched on. An attractive woman appeared on the TV, her long brown hair accentuating what could a face that hit triple-7 on the genetic slot machine. As the camera panned away, David could tell she was wearing a white coat and holding a clipboard. As the last remnants of David's headache wore away, he suddenly realized who he was looking at. The waitress from the diner he was at last night looked much different in a science getup. David felt a rumble in his stomach and got the courage to yell at the TV.\n\n\"Hey! You! Where am I? What's going on? Can I get some food?\"\n\n\"Mr. Goldman. I hope you enjoyed your pancakes yesterday morning.\" The woman on the TV checked her clipboard. \"I see you ate 20 pancakes. That's a very impressive number.\"\n\n\"Uhhh...I was...uhhh...hungry?\"\n\n\"Mr. Finley, I know what drugs you took. I have a PhD in biology from Dartmouth.\"\n\n\"Come on. Where's the hidden camera. You're way too hot to be a scientist. I'm on TV right?\"\n\n\"I hate this part!\" the woman on the screen screamed. \"Seriously, Why do I always have to talk to these degenerates! Dr. Randolph! You talk to this one.\"\n\nThe woman on the screen stormed off and was replaced by an aging, pudgy man, equally attired in a white coat and carrying a clipboard, but a man that for sure wasn't winning any beauty pageants. Dr. Randolph looked at his clipboard and spoke into the camera with a monotone that could put an overly caffeinated 4 year old to sleep.\n\n\"Hmmm...yes...David Finley. 19 years old. Born in Colorado Springs, student at Georgetown University. Mr. Finley, I'll get right to it. You have been recruited for special service to your government. We have created an alternative form of energy that is related specifically to the metabolization of monosaccharides and proteins by those with a smaller than usual pylorus. These monosaccharides and protiens are able to be most easily synthesized in pancakes.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry. What?\" David asked to the man on the television.\n\nThe attractive scientist burst into view. \"It means your stomach is fucked up and we're generating power from you eating pancakes. You're good at eating pancakes, so the government says that you need to do your civic duty by eating pancakes.\"\n\nDr. Randolph adjusted his glasses. \"Yes. Thank you Dr. Buckley. This is why I don't explain things to our guests. So Mr. Finley. You are now in the employ of the government of the United States of America. Your parents were informed this morning that you had an, er, unfortunate accident at a Metro stop and your body was horribly disfigured. I trust you are hungry now. We will be delivering your first batch of pancakes. There is already syrup on your table. Would you like plain pancakes or blueberry?\"\n\n\"What if I refuse! What if I don't eat! You can't do this to me!\" David cried at his captors.\n\n\"Mr. Finley. If you refuse, we will be forced to feed you by robot. You don't want this to happen. I'll ask you again. Do you want plain pancakes or blueberry.\"\n\nDavid sighed and looked at the plate in front of him. \"I guess I'll take blueberry.\"\n\n\"Very good. We will remove the restraints while you eat. Thank you Mr. Finley. You are doing your country a great service.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: The Wall has stood since time immemorial. What lies beyond is a mystery. Countless thousands have attempted the climb. Most die never reaching the top. Many who succeed never return. Those that do return never speak." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Pia wiped her father’s brow with a damp washcloth, careful to avoid dripping water into his eyes. Dipping the cloth into the bucket beside her, she continued her task in silence, only her father’s gentle breathing filling the empty room. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, glossy and still.\n\nPutting the bucket aside, Pia pulled the blanket up to her father's neck, and kissed his moist forehead. She took the cured meats and bread from the table, carefully storing them in her pack, and weighed the waterskin. Not enough, but it would have to do.\n\nThe pack went on her back, and the skin over her shoulder. Without a glance behind, the door was opened, closed, and she was gone.\n\n-\n\nIn the corridor Mrs. Stewart was waiting, little Linden holding onto her hand. The hard lines of Mrs. Stewart's face melted on seeing Pia, but with a stern shake they resurfaced. She held out a wrapped parcel of dried meats, the paper stained from oil.\n\n\"Good luck.\"\n\nPia managed a small smile, accepting the gift. As she packed the food away, Linden grew restless, squirming in his mother's firm hold. The pack was shouldered once again, and the smile fell away. Without looking at the little boy, Pia nodded to Mrs. Stewart, then turned and departed.\n\nThe steps on the wooden floor reverberated, and with a surge of determination, Linden pulled away.\n\n\"Linden!\" his mother called.\n\nThe child ran after the older girl, the small pattering of his feet an echo to hers. Linden stopped in front of her, forcing a halt.\n\n\"Don't go.\"\n\nAs young as he was, even Linden understood the danger. Those who left would be dead one way or another, be it in body or mind. Pia was afraid of meeting those tiny eyes, of seeing her fright reflected. She dropped to her knees, and put his hands in hers. It wasn't as difficult to form a smile this time.\n\n\"You'll take care of Francine, won't you?\" Pia asked.\n\nLinden's eyes scrunched up, but he nodded furiously.\n\n\"How much does she need?\"\n\n\"Cup of green every day,\" Linden dutifully recited.\n\nPia smiled wider and nodded. She moved to stand, but his little hands held on tight. Hers, callus-free, stroked his in comfort. His eyes started to water.\n\n\"You were going to teach me to sew.\"\n\nToo much. Her eyes followed suit.\n\n\"I will,\" Pia promised, \"when I get back.\"\n\nAs she stood, the boy's hands fell to his side. Pia cupped his cheek, and rubbed his head in farewell. With nothing left to be spoken, she went down the stairs, and left.\n\n-\n\nThe borders of the city were built into the cliff face, the wide circle ending on either side. Over 60 metres tall, guards patrolling atop the border could see almost everything in the valley. However, The Wall offered no such insight. Extending high into the sky, its end could not be seen from the ground, nor from the tallest tower in the city. Even on a clear day, The Wall seemed to reach into the heavens above.\n\nNamed as it was, The Wall was in fact a mountain, the steepest side acting as a barrier for the city. Aspiring climbers had searched for an easier access point for decades, but the shallower paths were blocked by noxious swamplands, the gases not allowing any to pass through them.\n\nAs Pia approached the mountain, her nostrils filled with the stench of decaying bodies. At the foot of The Wall was a deep trench, constantly filled and emptied of unsuccessful hopefuls. In the centre was the 'entrance' to The Wall, a wooden platform, once-bright bold colouring now faded and chipped away. It used to be a celebration. A challenge. An insurmountable task that children would dream of one day attempting.\n\nNow this.\n\nThe crowds were gone. The cheering had ended. The celebrations had stopped.\n\nAll that was left was a hole in the ground for the bodies to rot.\n\nPia pulled the gloves from her pack and pulled them on. Her hands, the treasures of her craft, shook violently. She climbed onto the entrance to The Wall, breathing deeper to calm herself. Then she looked up.\n\nSteep. So steep. So impossibly steep, like a stone pillar.\n\nPia dropped her gaze to the familiar handholds in front of her. Not allowing any more thought, she took hold of them, and moved.\n\nRock after rock, worn down from thousands of hands, passed by quickly. Children could do this, and so could she.\n\nShe kept moving, finding the next steps easily, seeing the route ahead of her laid out like a map. It was like retracing their steps, using their experience to guide her next move, going faster and faster and faster. Pia scurried up the mountain, rocks flying past in her hurry to ascend.\n\nHer climbing had stopped the panic of her mind, but her pace was not sustainable. Pausing on a thicker step, Pia focused on slowing her breathing, leaning her head against the cool rock. She brought her waterskin to her face, allowing herself a precious half-mouthful of water.\n\nAs her heart rate decreased, Pia glanced at either side. She was already above the walls. The walls that protected the city, the walls that had protected her her entire life. Elation and terror mixed into an intoxicating combination, and Pia almost grinned from the rush. Unable to resist, she looked down.\n\nThe bodies.\n\nHer head snapped back up and she hugged The Wall, endorphins lost in a moment. She glanced upwards, and steeled herself. The only way left was up.\n\nSo she climbed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You're a maid who work for the royal family. One day in the corridor of the castle you find an homeless person, you approch him, but he grab your arm and say \" You're the chosen one ! You're the only one able to lift Excalibur\". Then, your journey in the search of the mighty blade begins." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alice's mind wandered as she polished the vase. The queen was very particular about the cleanliness of the palace, but she had done the job enough that she hardly had to pay attention anymore. Besides, this was the southeastern section of the place. Nobody went there. Well, nobody that mattered anyway.\n\n\"Work at the palace, they said.\" She found herself muttering. \"It'll be exciting, they said. Get to meet the royal family.\"\n\nWell, she had met the queen. Once. It was not a meeting she wanted to remember. She had not been injured, but she swore she could still feel the marks left by the queen's excessive jewelry. That woman hit a lot harder than most people would think. Probably all the extra weight behind her slaps. That thought almost made her smile.\n\nSuddenly, she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. It looked like a shadow was moving. She stopped polishing. If there was someone in the palace, she needed to get the guards. She should start now. Just go down the hall towards the populated areas.\n\n\"Hello? Is there someone there?\" She said instead.\n\nShe immediately chastised herself. That was how people like her got killed. By being stupid and announcing that they had seen something. Now she would be found days later with a gaping hole in her gut. At least she would not have to clean any more vases.\n\nInstead of a knife being plunged into her stomach, a man emerged from the shadows. He was dressed in old rags, and his hair was wild. He looked around frantically.\n\n\"No. No, I'm in the wrong place. I need to find him. Need to find him quickly.\"\n\nWell, at least he was not immediately brandishing a knife. That was something.\n\n\"Um, excuse me, sir?\" She said, gripping the top of her skirt, \"Are you lost? Do you know where you are?\"\n\nThe obviously homeless man's eyes found hers. \"Yes. No. I know where. The palace. Not where in the palace though. Miss, can you help? I need to find him.\"\n\n\"Him? Him who?\" Oh dear. A crazy man that was just lucid enough to be aware of his surroundings. That would be interesting.\n\n\"The chosen one. The great hero who will save all. I need to find him. He should be a member of the royal family. Please, I need to find him. Lead me there.\"\n\n\"Of... course, sir. She would lead him somewhere, that was for sure. She would lead him straight to the guards and they could deal with the vagrant.\"\n\nThe man moved faster than he should have been able to and grabbed her hand. She recoiled in shock. He clasped her hands in his.\n\n\"Yes, good. Thank you this...\" He froze. \"Miss, who are your parents?\"\n\n\"Uh, my parents? My mother's name is Abby. She's a milk maid. My father is Jonathan. He works at the grocer.\"\n\nThe man held her hand, immobile. Alice tried to struggle free, but his grip was firmer than she could handle.\n\n\"It's you.\" He said, eyes going wide. \"You're the chosen one.\"\n\n\"Uh...what?\"\n\n\"The direct line of Pendragon. My divination told me the hero would be in the palace. Oh, stupid me for assuming it was a royal. I should have known, with how often the crown changed hands over the years. Come, come my dear, we must be off. We have much to prepare before you are ready.\"\n\nNow Alice was getting scared. \"Ready? Ready for what?\"\n\n\"For the sword.\"\n\n\"Sword?\"\n\n\"The sword. The holy blade. The hero's sword, Excalibur. You must claim it and save the land from the coming darkness.\"\n\n\"What? I don't...what?\"\n\n\"Come, hurry! We have much to do!\"\n\n\"What? Who...who are you?\" She spoke louder, hoping someone would hear her without having the scream. That might prompt a more violent response from the insane man.\n\n\"Oh, yes. Silly me, of course you wouldn't know. I am Merlin.\"\n\n\"Merlin. As in the legendary wizard, Merlin?\"\n\n\"Yes and no. I am Merlin, but not that Merlin. I'm his descendant, just like you are the descendant of Arthur. Now, a woman is unconventional, but...\"\n\n\"Wait! I'm not going anywhere! I don't know who you are, but you're obviously crazy. Let me go and leave!\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that. I need to take you with me so that you can be properly trained.\"\n\nThe crazy man waved a hand through the air before Alice could finally do what she should have done right away. Then the air started to warp and change, silencing her. The shadows rose up, forming the outline of a door. The air shifted, gathering the dark doorway, forming the image of a door made if shifting air currents.\n\nAlice opened and closed her mouth. She used her free hand to pinch her cheek as hard as she could. The door of air and shadow was still there.\n\n\"Come, hurry, miss. We must go. There is much to be done.\"\n\nHe waved his hand and the door opened. It opened to a place that was certainly not the royal palace. Or anywhere that Alice recognized.\n\n\"So, uh, hero, huh?\" She asked numbly.\n\n\"Oh yes. A great one. The greatest since Arthur himself. Hopefully.\"\n\n\"Oh. I see.\"\n\nAt least it would be more interesting than polishing vases all day." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: When NPCs aren't seen they are searching, constantly searching for places or items that will elevate them to the title of \"Side Quest NPC\". It is fabled also that there is an ever greater title still." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dad's knuckles were white as they clutched at his fork. I could see him starting to tremble from here.\n\n\"Dad,\" I began, my voice sounding like that of a very appeasing and reasonable mouse. He ignored me.\n\n\"For the past seventeen years,\" he growled, glaring over at Evven, \"Your mother and I have toiled endlessly to give you and your sister a chance at the good life. Now I tell you we've done it, and you dare tell me...THIS?\"\n\nEvven gulped. He stared determinedly at his bowl of porridge, but I could see the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes.\n\nDad brought the flat of his palm down against the bloodstained book he had presented to us so lovingly just minutes before. I flinched at the loud THWAP! \"You ungrateful sot!\"\n\nDesperate to take attention away from my brother, I blurted, \"Tell us what's in the book, Dad. Please?\" Evven glanced up at me with something that might have been gratitude before returning his attention to his porridge.\n\nDad scowled suspiciously back at me, but pride won out over anger. With a sigh, he hoisted the heavy tome so we could all see it clearly.\n\n\"This,\" he flourished, \"Is the journal of a dead explorer.\"\n\nMy mouth fell open. I couldn't help it. What must that have cost him? I thought back to all his late nights at the blacksmith's and marveled.\n\n\"Does it...\" my voice wavered. I licked my lips and tried again. \"Does it have...\"\n\nDad's face split into a broad grin. \"A map marker? Why yes, dear. It does.\"\n\nA marker. Gods. A thousand images flitted across my mind. It was a future full of endless possibilities. I felt suddenly giddy. My eyes went to meet Evven's, but he was fixated on his spoon.\n\n\"We'll have a house with our name on it,\" Dad continued, his voice breaking a bit. \"I'll be able to sell my wares and repairs to the travelers directly. There will be forums dedicated to our story.\"\n\nSilence fell over the table. Dad set down the book and put his head in his hands. \"What a waste,\" he murmured.\n\nSeconds dragged by. I didn't know what to say. The chasm that had formed between my brother and my father seemed insurmountable.\n\nEvven pushed away his bowl. \"I never meant to hurt you,\" he said in a voice that was barely not a whisper.\n\nDad chopped his hand through the air in a hard dismissal. Evven recoiled. The tears he had been holding at bay brimmed, then a hot flush of anger swept over him. I reached out a hand to urge him to be cautious, to be grateful, but he swatted it away.\n\n\"Did you ever think that some of us might want something different than this plan of yours?\" he blurted. I went still. Dad's head snapped up, but he said nothing. Evven continued: \"I never wanted to give a side quest. You made all these plans for my life and didn't even stop to ask! What about what I want?\"\n\n\"What you want is unnatural,\" Dad snarled. Evven stepped back as if he'd been struck.\n\n\"Dad!\" I cried. Neither of them seemed to hear me.\n\n\"What I want is different, that's all,\" Evven said.\n\nDad stared at him for a long moment. \"If I ever hear you talk about it again,\" he said softly, \"You will no longer be welcome in my home.\"\n\nThe silence that followed this proclamation had a note of ringing finality to it. I looked over at my brother and knew what was coming before he said it. \"Well then.\"\n\n\"Evven, don't do this,\" I pleaded. He blinked at my words, but wouldn't look at me.\n\n\"I guess this is goodbye.\"\n\n\"Dad! Please!\" I ran to my father, clutched at his arm. It felt as unyielding as stone. \"He's your son!\"\n\nDad's eyes were hollow when they turned to meet mine. \"A man who wants to be a helpless NPC in an escort mission is no son of mine.\"\n\nI pulled away from him, stunned. Evven stiffened. \"If that's how you feel.\"\n\n\"It is.\"\n\n\"Well then.\" Without so much as a backward glance, Evven walked to the door, pulled on his boots and coat, and stepped outside. The whole thing took him maybe fifteen seconds. And that was the last time I saw my brother.\n\nI hear he does well for himself. He's mastered walking at a pace halfway between the travelers' walking speeds and their running speeds, then refuses to move if they get ahead of him. He's learned to cower in fear directly in front of the travelers' line of sight so he takes damage from their ranged attacks.\n\nOnce, when Dad had been drinking, I found him snoring with a newspaper opened on his chest. The story was titled: \"Aack! Don't let them get me!\" It was about Evven and his signature phrase. In the article, Evven described how important it was to stick to the phrase no matter what, and to repeat it in every situation to give the full escortee experience. He'd won an award for his work.\n\nI'm proud of you, Evven.\n\nAnd I miss you" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You dedicated your life with training so you can defeat your nemesis. Once you finally track him down, you realize that age got to him first: Dementia and other illnesses have turned him into a shell of his former self. He doesn’t even remember you. This is going to be your final confrontation." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My house in on fire. Everything I own lies inside of that house alongside everyone I love, and it’s all being burned to ashes, swallowed by the flames. I know they haven’t survived, the expression of the man in-between me and my house tells me that. It is one of triumph, it tells me that he has won and that he is happy to have done so. My hand falls to my sword as I charge at him, then I wake up.\n\nI relive that night every time I sleep, which is why I rarely do it. All I do is train and prepare for the day when I can avenge my family and end his vile life, and that day is today. I run through my daily routine, 100 pushups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and running until I tire, followed by chopping bamboo with my sword. My blows are now so swift, so precise, I can cut one piece of bamboo 100 times before the end reaches the ground. I am ready to face him, though there is still uncertainty within me, still a part which believes I must train more. I know today is the day.\n\nI see the blooming flowers, hear the buzzing insects, and smell the cherry blossom trees as I walk down a winding dirt path. It winds to avoid the many large boulders that litter the area, which people say were thrown here by warring giants hundreds of years ago. As I walk, I pass a pretty young girl who carries buckets of rice grain, I smile at her and she smiles back, never breaking stride. Soon I see it, a small rice paddy with a house at the top, where the man I must kill is said to reside. I feel a decade’s worth of anger rise within me as I approach the house, all of the ways I have imagined killing him come rushing back into my head and butterflies appear in my stomach. I debated whether I should burn down his house as he destroyed my own, or if watching him bleed out would be enough to satisfy me. I knock on the door and wait.\n\nThe door creeks open to reveal an old man in a robe with bent knees and a hunch in his back. He looks older but this is nonetheless the man who killed my family.\n\n“Satori it is good to see you, tell me how you have been while I prepare tea.”\n\nI speak exactly as I have rehearsed. “My name is Morushi and I am here on behalf of my family.”\n\n“Please come in and close the door, it is cold outside.” He turns and wanders into the house.\n\n“I won’t be deceived by you. Not like my father and mother who could not see the evil in your eyes nor your black heart.” The old man begins to make tea by placing a pot of water on top of a small fire. “What do you say Hu-an?” He says nothing, only collects some leaves which he throws inside of the boiling fire and sits on his knees slowly, painfully. I walk inside the house, my blade drawn.\n\n“Satori how the farm doing? You said the rice looked frail this year.”\n\n“Hu-an! I am here to kill you.”\n\n“Okay Satori, please wait the tea is almost ready.” My blade is pointed towards him and is no more than a foot away from his face, yet he is fixated on his tea which he slowly stirs with a stick. I no longer know if this is the man who killed my family. His face is the same, but his words are soft and old, he is soft and old.\n\n“Are you Hu-an?”\n\n“Yes, Satori please get me the cups.” He points to a small table with two clay cups on it. I keep the blade pointed at him as I grab them and set them in front of him. He pours the pot’s contents into the cups carefully, though his wrinkled hands shake slightly as a few drops of liquid escape. He hands me a cup, which I take in my free hand, my eyes locked on his movements, and I watch as he brings his cup to his lips and takes a sip.\n\n“Drink Satori.” He says. “The tea is good for you.” I no longer know if this is the same man I saw ten years ago. I no longer know if I can rightfully claim vengeance upon him, if killing him would truly avenge my family. I sip the tea, it isn’t very good. Perhaps the leaves are old, or he did not give it enough time to mix together. I set it down and stare at my shining blade I have spent years honing, training, improving. Could I make those years count for nothing? Could I forsake the honor of my family? I stare at Hu-an who calmly sips his tea, his eyes focusing on nothing, and think.\n\nI walk back down the path, the farm still in my hindsight. The sun is high above me, it no longer blinds but it causes me to sweat, though my actions may cause it as well. Once again, I see the pretty girl carrying two empty buckets.\n\n“Did you have business in our farm stranger, or are you lost?” She asks.\n\n“Your farm?”\n\n“Yes, I run a farm with my father, my name is Satori.”\n\n“It is good to meet you Satori. I am merely passing through, I enjoy travelling in the Springtime.”\n\n“If you are in need of water or food never hesitate to come to us.” She smiles the same pretty smile I saw earlier. I nod, and move on. I do not know if I made the right decision, but I do not know if I could have made another. I hear a scream come from behind me as a grip the handle of my blade very tightly." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A warrior mockingly tells an old wizard to stop using his silly spells and fight like a real man. The wizard tosses aside his staff, cracking his knuckles, and the warrior quickly wishes he hadn't." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Redfist dodged behind a pillar as a bolt of green lightning crackled down the hall, leaving scorch marks on the walls. This old fool wasn't making it easy on him.\n\nYou usually wanted to ambush a wizard and end it quickly, at least that's what everyone said, but Redfist's luck was rotten this day and his quarry spotted him too early. Now he was stuck hopping all over the large chamber, trying not to get hit by an unusually broad arcane arsenal.\n\nHe peaked out the other side of the pillar and pulled his head back just as an orb of acid went sizzling past, melting a cabinet in the corner.\n\n\"Oooh, that was a nasty one\", he called out, hoping to tease the old mage into giving him an opening \"Shame you keep missing!\"\n\n\"Then come out, and I'll make sure you're not disappointed again\" replied the wizard, her voice a wizened, dry rasp.\n\nRedfist laughed derisively \"I'd be happy to. Tell you what, I'll drop my blades, you drop the staff, and we'll settle this fist to face.\" He paused, then added smugly \"Though I'm guessing your exaltedness is above such methods\".\n\nThe chamber fell silent for several seconds, then the old mage replied \"Very well, if that is your wish\". Redfist was taken aback by the reply, but as he heard the sound of a staff clattering to the stone floor, he dared take another look.\n\nSure enough, the old robe-clad woman was standing there calmly, her staff on the floor. Redfist grinned, stepping from behind the pillar. This will be trivial - he'll wring this old crone's neck in a heartbeat.\n\nHe unbuckled his sword belt slowly, his movements mocking and theatrical. He made a show of removing his concealed blades, dropping each one with a grin on his face, slowly approaching the old woman.\n\nAt this display, the wizard merely reached into her robes and unclasped a catch holding them together. The garment fell from her back, and the grin was suddenly gone from Redfist's face.\n\n\"Oh, are we no longer amused, young man?\" the old woman rasped, as her thick, corded muscles began to flex and stretch. Redfist gulped, as she continued \"Were you expecting something different?\", cracking the knuckles of her massive fists.\n\nIndeed, Redfist was expecting something much different. The woman was old, ancient even, her skin leathery and dry. But while Redfist was a powerfully built man, she obviously weighed half again what he did, and all of it was muscle and sinew. Now he was starting to step back as the mage was moving towards him.\n\n\"What do you think magic is, boy?\" the old woman asked, her voice deathly calm as she slowly closed the distance \"It's the primal force of the cosmos. What did you think it takes to wield such energy?\"\n\nRedfist's back hit the wall, as he ran out of space to back away. His mind froze, his throat dry, as the wizard continued \"Frail flesh couldn't channel such power. It has to be strengthened, built, cultivated. Only then can the flesh withstand the raw power of the universe.\"\n\n\"I didn't... I didn't know...\" Redfist gasped, as a large gnarled fist reached for his face.\n\n\"Why else would we wear such big robes?\" the old woman replied as her fist closed and a crunching sound echoed through the chamber." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Your identical twin sister is visiting with her husband... who you've had a thing for since high school. Time for a little secret switch and do things with him your sis would NEVER dream of!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was actually a bit unsettling how easy it was to manipulate him. Maybe it was because I knew him so well after so many years desperately lusting after him while Naomi, the prude, got to have him. I mean, we're identical twins. Naomi and Thea. Thea and Naomi. It made perfect sense that if you wanted to stick your dick in Naomi, you wanted to fuck Thea too. Right? I'm not crazy. This makes sense.\n\nInviting them to stay at my apartment was easy. Who doesn't want a free place to stay in New York? But fuck, when they arrived... God, Dan was looking so hot. New haircut, maybe? Or has he secretly been working out? Fucking Naomi, why can't he see that you're the boring, straight A medical school one while I'm the fun loving slutty one? Why does she always have to win?\n\nNo longer! I caught him in my trap. Left a little handwritten note in Naomi's best handwriting (also identical to mine, isn't that weird?) demanding a midnight hookup that night in the bathroom. To get Naomi out of the way, I gave her enough wine to get her to pass out on the sofa for at least six hours. Why did Dan have to wear those shorts, fuck, I can barely wait. What would he want her to wear to turn him on? No, she's a prude, I need to act just like her. Just match her sweatpants. Lights off. Let's finally do this.\n\nOh fuck. This is literally everything I have fantasized about for so long. His arms are so strong around me. His dick is so fucking big inside me. He is absolutely convinced I am Naomi. God I love those little turned-on noises he makes as he thrusts. Haha, finally, fuck you Naomi! He's fucking Thea! He's loving my pussy for a change, bitch.\n\nMmm fuck yes, even just turning around and letting him hit it from the back qualifies as exotic for him. He's gasping now. No, no, slow down, don't let him cum too soon. I have waited too long for it to end so early. But, shit, now he's gonna say something to Naomi. How hot her ass was when they were doing doggy. She'll find out and fucking ruin my life. What should I do? I need something, something to blackmail him with. Come on, Thea, think. Fuck, it's hard to think while he's fucking me so good!\n\n\"Dan,\" I whisper, imitating Naomi's disgusting affectionate voice she uses with him.\n\n\"What?\" he asks, catching his breath as I stand next to him, pressing my tits into him, stroking his cock to keep him hard.\n\n\"There's something about being in the city that's got me really horny...\" I purr.\n\n\"I can tell,\" he grins. Oh poor, stupid Dan. I should have known this ever since he flunked English in the tenth grade.\n\n\"I wanna do something wild,\" I continue. \"Tell me something that would really turn you on.\"\n\nHere we go. My money's on blowjob. Or maybe anal. I hope it's not anal, his dick is pretty big. Blowjob would be okay. I could stretch to a facial. Anything that I can use against him later.\n\n\"Anything?\" he asks. Wow, now I am suspicious. What fantasies has he got going on?\n\n\"Anything,\" I say, breathily. I'm really selling the role here.\n\n\"You remember my birthday?\"\n\n\"Remind me...\" I evade, stroking his cock a little harder. This conversation has got him like a rock.\n\n\"Um, you know, when you let me call you Thea?\"\n\nWhat.\n\nThe.\n\nFuck.\n\nThat bitch! He's been pretending she's me while he fucks her? Holy shit. This is huge. Don't freak out.\n\n\"You want to pretend I'm Thea?\" I say, unable to keep a tiny bit of arousal out of my voice.\n\n\"Yeah. If that's okay.\"\n\nHell yes, stud!\n\n\"You want to pretend you're hooking up with my sister in her bathroom? Like she lured you there and pretended to be me?\" I literally can't help myself.\n\n\"Yes, fuck.\"\n\nI grin. \"Okay.\" I guide his cock back into my soaking wet pussy. \"You sure you're okay with cheating on Naomi?\"\n\n\"Yes, Thea, fuck. You're so hot.\" He's barely coherent he's so turned on.\n\n\"Cum inside me. Naomi doesn't have to know.\"\n\n\"Oh Thea, fuck yes.\"\n\nI'm orgasming, somehow. This is the culmination of years of planning and fantasizing. His cock is so good. He's calling me by my name. Naomi is-\n\nStanding right there in the doorway.\n\nOur eyes meet. Dan doesn't notice. He's groaning, he's close to orgasm. I moan. Naomi doesn't look away. I look my twin sister straight in the eye as her boyfriend grips my ass like a vise and shoots a huge load inside of me.\n\nShe slips away as Dan slides out of me." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: In a world of magic, elves, orcs, dragons, and all the standard fixings, someone finally invented the Gun." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And we thought ranged weaponry like the bow and the trebuchet were powerful.\n\nAfter what felt like nearly a decade inside his master's workshop, Farion had finally halted all the work he had been conducting in secret. A long time ago he had realised that getting caught working on this at any time would more than likely mean death for not only him, but for his brothers and sisters working below, as well. That being said, Farion also knew that the risk of being caught had long ago been overshadowed by his will of making something of himself, and perhaps one day being able to leave the workshop he had been working in for so long, though he also knew his master would have other plans.\n\nMaster Gunjar hobbled over, his robe dragging along the dirty floor. He was an old man, as human as the day he was born, his eyes as milky and soft as the hair that grew in patches on his head. \"Farion, my boy! What have you there?\" Farion had no need to wonder, it was apparent that the workshops owner had been noticing the lack of work on his apprentice's behalf. Like a jolt of lightning, yet as subtle as the clouds, he hid his new invention under some coal. \"I'm trying to improve upon your designs, master Gunjar. The coal doesn't burn hot enough to keep the balloon suspended in the air.\" The master wavered slightly, looking almost past Farion. \"I see. Would this issue be countered if we were to add more coal to the flame port?\" Farion leaned slightly against the work bench, his tunic absorbing the dark color of the coal heaps which lied upon it. He hadn't really been paying attention to his master, for he had been pondering a much more quizzical thought. How would Farion test his new invention? Were it capable of doing what he wished it to, he would need to test it on something large enough to gauge the power. Unaware to Farion now, master Gunjar had turned his back and started on the rant that he seemed to have paced through each day since Farion and his siblings had arrived.\n\n\"Farion, I feel as if we are close to our goal at last. You know, I wholeheartedly believe that once the Orcs and Dragonids see our brilliant invention, they will see that humans aren't nearly as dense as we all seem!\" he let out a little chuckle as he looked back to Farion, who at this point had given up all attention for his new invention. \"I've always wanted this, my boy. You may not know this, but I've always waited for the day that I could build an invention that could clear the walls that separate all of the races. It isn't fair that those dastardly walls were built. Sure, the races had problems in the past, but it's my dream to reconnect, and to show the other races how much we humans have grown! We aren't the brooding beasts that we once were, and I truly believe, my dear boy, that our races could all unite and live in peace. Wouldn't you agree?\" Before the master could turn fully to face his apprentice, a loud, terrifying rumble filled the shop, the old man's ears almost bled with the ringing. In a fit of fear, the old man looked to his apprentice, now standing completely still against the table. The old man was confused, why had Farion such a look of safety and bestillment upon his face? \"Farion? my boy? What in the heavens was that?\" Before Farion's master could make sense of it, he keeled over to the floor, for it was only then that he had noticed the burning hole in his chest, the smell of flesh and clothing filling the air.\n\nFarion, with a look of undying curiosity, slowly shuffled over to his master, the old man wincing now, failing to understand the situation still. \"Fa-Farion?\" He was already cold, his breath leaving his body. In a moment of despair, Farion's master looked up towards the balloon suspended from the ceiling. He couldn't understand what Farion had done, but he understood one thing now: The invention, the floating balloon that he would one day ride over the barrier, to converse and befriend all other species, would never be finished.\n\nFarion rummaged through the old man's robe, hoping the blast hadn't melted the keyring in the pocket situated by his master's now still heart. Keys in hand, Farion undid the shackles, the collar and the foot-cuffs, the things that had bound him by human law to his master for an uncountable number of years. Itching the soft, previously untouched spot on his neck, Farion picked up his new invention which he had dropped and slung it over his back. He had purpose now: first, he would go below the workshop and free his brothers and sisters from the chains that bound him. Together, and with Farion's new invention, they would take vengeance on all the humans left this side of the wall, adversely rescuing all the brothers and sisters who had been slaves to the fat, wretched pigs that had beaten, de-clawed, and raped. Farion, standing over his dead master, had never felt as free as the day he had been taken from his homeland - until today, it would seem.\n\nHeading towards the mine below, Farion looked back upon the cold lump of meat on the floor. For a split second, he felt remorse for his actions. He had hoped to spare the old man, as he had raised him from a pup to the man he now was, but it was only until his master started speaking of how humans had evolved from the monsters they are, that he realised not even the old man was innocent. Looking over the body, Farion felt he should do his late master justice, after all, it was his fault the old man would never see the completion of his dream.\n\nSuddenly, a thought came into Farion's mind. He would name this new invention, the very invention he and his kind would use to revolt against and exterminate the human scum, after the first person it ever killed, his master. Farion had been thinking of something to call it, for an invention of this magnificence could not simply go on unnamed.\n\n\"The Gunjar?\" he whistled under his breath. No, it had to be something easy to say, something that humans could recognize while they fled in terror while also giving recognition to the old man who without, would never have been built. After a moment, it came to him.\n\n\"I know. I'll name it \"Gun.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: \"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?\" \"YES! And now HELP ME ALREADY instead of just standing there and telling stupid jokes!\" the angel shouted, lying in the middle of a pretty sizable crater." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tick tock. Tick tock. Another day, another copper. Just one more day in a never-ending blur of days – one more copper that’ll transmogrify into bread and booze.\n\nTilly looked around the store and sighed. He’d been doing that a lot lately. The sighing, at least. The looking around he tried his best to avoid. The store continued to be empty, and no new dust had accumulated in the past handful of hours.\n\nWhen Master Johann had agreed to apprentice him shortly after his fifteenth birthday, he’d been so bright-eyed. Master Johann wanted to teach him? A peasant like him would get to be a clockmaker’s apprentice? He’d be able to free himself from the yoke of endless physical labor. Maybe even send his parents some extra money. Maybe even afford to send his future kids to school.\n\nThat’s what he’d thought, at least. Maybe it was a regional thing, but Johann’s and his understanding of the word apprentice seemed to differ greatly. Specifically, Johann seemed to believe that an apprentice was meant to stand (always stand, never sit) and watch the shop from dawn until dusk.\n\n“You never know when someone might need to know the time!” he’d say. But Tilly knew. He knew, for example, that nobody ever needed to know the time badly enough to buy a clock a few hours after dawn or a few hours before dusk or when the day was the hottest in the early afternoon. Really, there were maybe three hours a day when somebody would come in looking for a clock.\n\nBut he was stuck there. Stuck from waking until sleeping. Johann promised he’d start showing him how to do more than take a customer’s money, wrap the clock up safely in cloth, hand it over with a smile, and lock up once the sun had set – once things calmed down. That was two years ago, and things must be awful busy for him.\n\nTilly’s foot tapped absentmindedly at the locked chest under the counter. The key jangled on his belt. He’d quit and go home. Gods help him he would… if he just had the three silver it cost to hire a cart. If he stopped drinking, he could save up that much in six months.\n\nSix months? Tick tock. Tick tock. His head started to pound at the thought. He reached under the counter, pulled out his skein, and took a swig. That was better.\n\nHe looked around the shop again and sighed as he replaced the cork. His gaze fell down to the counter. He heard a thunderous crack from above. Before he could tilt his head to look, his feet were thrown out from under him. Something grazed his skull. He slammed into the wall.\n\nHe blinked. No, that’s not right. He opened his eyes. The pounding in his head was back. Did he accidentally buy some of Morris’s back alley brew? He didn’t remember doing that, but why else did one sip send him to his ass? Why were his ears ringing? Why was one half of his vision shaded red?\n\nSomething dripped onto his lip. It was warm and tasted metallic. It was blood. His blood, he finally recognized, streaming from a newly stinging gash across his skull.\n\nHe wiped the blood from his eyes and stood shakily. He leaned on what was left of the counter for support. The shop was a disaster. Clocks mounded in broken heaps around the walls they’d fallen from; cracks spiderwebbed across the shop windows; a roof beam was slung across the shop entrance; sunlight streamed through a five span hole in the middle of the ceiling.\n\nThat streaming sunlight made very clear something very strange. The shop floor had collapsed, forming a crater ringed in splintered floor boards. Dozens of tendrils of effervescent white extended from the crater, seeming to float in the wood-dust-filled air.\n\nTilly shook his head and looked around for his skein. He pulled it out from a pile of rubble, dusted it off, and took another swig. No, this was definitely his regular stuff.\n\nSkein in hand, he stumbled around the counter and over to the crater. As he approached, several of the nearby white threads twisted in the air, their ends turning toward him.\n\nHe peered over the edge of the crater. Rubbed his eyes again, and again uncorked the skein with a blood-streaked hand.\n\nLying in the middle of the crater, three spans deep, was a woman dressed entirely in white. She was tall and slender; her hair silver and more lustrous than any coin he’d ever handled; and her face looked finer and more beautiful than even the sculpture in the town square. Her eyes closed, she looked the picture of relaxation, except for the detritus that framed her.\n\nTilly was a peasant and, perhaps, a lush, but he wasn’t a fool. He’d been to a Sevensday sermon once or twice. The hair, the unblemished skin, the unearthly beauty, the ability to create a few span deep crater and not be reduced to a puddle of blood and offal – this was, he was sure, one of the gods’ own servants.\n\nNow, hold on a minute. The sculpture in the town square was framed by a set of six feathered wings. He rubbed the blood out of his eyes again and looked again. Where he’d hoped to find wings, he instead found a mass of writhing milky threads pouring out from between the woman’s back and the hard-packed earth. Well, at least that explained where those things came from.\n\nThe woman moved, and her eyes opened. She looked up at Tilly with bright, gray eyes.\n\nHe swallowed. What were you supposed to say to girls again, besides “Thank you for your patronage!” and “You have wonderful tastes in clocks, ma’am,” and “Your change is three copper”?\n\nHis mouth was dry, but she was looking at him. He had to say something. Something tugged at the edge of his consciousness – something he’d heard before.\n\n“Did it… uh… hurt, when you fell from Heaven?” he managed to stammer out.\n\n“Yes, actually. Quite a bit. That’s not how the summoning is supposed to go,” a voice shot back, melodious as the bell that indicated Sevensday was at an end and the tavern was now open again.\n\n“Now, are you planning on gawping at me until Taren again becomes the land of the gods, or will you help me out of here?”\n\nHe shook his head. Of course. That’s what he should do. He should help her up.\n\nHe slid down into the pit, awkwardly stumbling over his own feet. As he descended, several of the floating tendrils drifted towards him, some, he was sure, touched him, but he felt nothing. He wiped his hand clean on his pants, stretched it out, and gave his most winning smile.\n\n“My lady,” he quipped.\n\nShe rolled her eyes and took his hand. Her hand was cold, like a stone found in the shade, but soft.\n\nOn her feet now, she dusted herself off and looked around.\n\n“Now, I don’t know much about human temples, but I’m not wrong in saying this isn’t one, am I?”\n\n“Unless someone’s started a religion worshiping wasted time, then, no, this isn’t a temple.”\n\n“Would someone really do that? You realize that’d be heresy, don’t you?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Humanity is the galaxy's most mysterious race who goes around with extremely advanced tech and just trolls the shit out of the galaxy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Groll awoke suddenly to a deep rumbling in the night. The tremors were rhythmic and terrifying, as he feared the worst. The valley that his small tribe had lived in for all of living memory had been threatened in the recent cycles. Once, others had prayed for rain to support their crops and herds. The gods had listened, perhaps too well. The rains had been heavy for quite a few cycles, the lake at the head of the valley had risen too much. Groll had been one of the overseers for the dam, that kept the river back enough to save the valley. The dam had been showing signs of weakening, and everyone feared the worst. As he ran from the barn he had been dozing in while tending his flock, Groll noted that the rumbling hadn't changed in pattern, but was growing more intense. Fearing the worst as he raced towards his house, Groll glanced over his shoulder towards the top of the valley and the dam. What he saw was enough to make him lose concentration, then his footing, and fall to all six. He stared in wonder at the dam, which was still standing and perfectly visible in the night. It was not the light of the moons that showed him the dam, but a line of fire, slowly moving around the valley. Groll followed the line into the sky and saw something that he couldn't explain. Floating there was what appeared to be a large spoon, that someone had added two braces on the handle, facing opposite the spoon. On the end of the braces were what looked like sausages with a bright blue stripe running down the middle and red orbs on the end. Soon the whole village was out and staring in wonder at this strange object floating in the sky. Many were afraid, panic and fear spread quickly. There were a few, though, that just stood and watched in wonder. The line of fire traced around the valley for a while, then it continued away from the valley towards the sea. When it seemed as if the fire would touch the sea, it stopped. The spoon in the sky then started to move, it's sausages glowing brighter than they had before. It drifted up in to the night sky, growing smaller. It passed between the two moons, and then was gone. Shortly after, Groll and the others who helped with the dam went to go check, and found it almost empty. As they searched, they found that the lake that fed the river had fallen enough so that the valley was no longer in danger, and the dam all but unnecessary. Confused, they began to search for the reason, and that's when they found what the fire in the night had done. A new river bed, with its inlet right at the height of the lake that would threaten the valley, had been carved from the ground. The water level of the lake had gone down to the point where the flow was slow, but steady in the new river, and plentiful in the river that flowed through the valley. The spoon and sausages in the night sky never faded from memory. Drawings and stories were handed down for generations, along with the various reasons supplied as to why it had brought down the fire in the night that may have saved the valley. It wasn't until many, many cycles later when people began to map and chart the areas around the valley did anyone notice anything odd about the new river, apart from its creation. When they did, though, cartographers were puzzled as to how the river could be in the exact shape of the male genitalia." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Two siblings that grew up in the same broken home, meet up years later, one has managed a very successful life, the other followed the path that they grew up in, tell their story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Josh looked the part of the successful tech mogul wearing crisply tailored pants, a monogrammed french cuffed shirt, and his jacket casually swung over his shoulder. He walked through the gate of his sister's front yard. She still lived in the house they had grown up in. He stopped in front of the house and watched the memories replay: cowering in the closet with Jenny when mom's boyfriends got violent, avoiding their mother when she was drunk or high, and celebrating his college acceptance by dancing around with Jenny in the front yard while the whole neighborhood watched in amusement. He looked down at the crumpled invitation in his hand again, just to be certain that it was the right address and time:\n\nSam's Graduation Party\n\nNoon-we leave for the ceremony!\n\n1311 Gardenia Drive\n\nNodding to himself, he put the invitation in his pocket and knocked on the front door. He could hear the party going on and smell the barbecue his sister must have bought. He heard Jenny yell \"It's open, come on in!\"\n\nHe opened the door slowly and slipped into the house. It was shabby and old, but neat as a pin. Jenny had repainted the walls and pulled up the carpet, but the smell of cigarette smoke still lingered. He could hear his sister in the kitchen, laughing with someone. He walked down the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. Everyone in the room stopped talking when he walked in. Jenny, with her back to the hallway, had no idea he was there and was still talking when he walked up behind her. \"Hi Jenny.\"\n\nShe whipped around and her face went white. She dropped the bag of potato chips she had been holding as she stared at him. \"Josh,\" she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. \"Is it really you?\" She reached out for a hug, and he gladly stepped into the embrace. When they broke away, Jenny wiped away her tears and said \"What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"I got an invitation to my nephew's high school graduation!\" He responded happily. She looked at him, shocked, \"I never sent you an invitation.\"\n\n\"I sent it, Mom. It's okay.\" Josh turned to see a tall skinny teenage boy standing in the doorway. The boy walked over and extended his hand to Josh, \"I'm Sam. It's nice to finally meet you.\"\n\nJosh shook his hand formally, and said \"I'm Josh, congratulations on your graduation.\"\n\nSam grinned, \"thanks, man.\"\n\nIn a quiet voice, Jenny said, \"Josh, can I talk to you in private please?\" She turned and left the kitchen; Josh followed close behind. She opened the door to her bedroom, walked in and sat down hard on the bed. Shutting the door behind him, Josh went to sit next to her. Tears were still in her eyes as she appraised him silently. Feeling the weight of her stare, he squirmed, waiting for her to make the first move.\n\n\"Why did you come here?\"\n\n\"I told you, I got an invitation and I decided to attend. I wanted to give my graduation present in person.\" He took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. She opened it carefully and read the first page of the legal notice.\n\nShe looked up in alarm, \"Josh, you can't be serious...\"\n\n\"It should be enough to pay for him to go to college. I figured it was only fair, since you paid for me to go that I return the favor.\"\n\nJenny sat in stunned silence staring at the numbers on the page. Then she handed the envelope back to him. \"I can't accept this.\"\n\n\"What do you mean you can't accept it? It's for you and Sam! It should be enough for both of you, and it's a trust so it will keep paying out every year. I just wanted to do something for you.\"\n\nJenny turned to him, her eyes full of fury and her voice dripping with anger, \"Who the hell are you to just show up here like the prodigal fucking son and offer your help? Where were you when Sam was a toddler and his father went on a bender and almost killed me? I didn't finish paying off those medical bills until last year. Where were you every holiday when I would save for months to give my child a few presents that I would buy secondhand? I made the same promise to him that I made to you, that he could go to any college he wanted. I'm grateful he picked Carolina and not Duke like you did. I worked two goddam jobs for five years and I put you through college. I got pregnant with Sam your junior year and I worked both jobs until two weeks before he was due and went back three weeks after he was born. So that I could pay for you to go to Duke. I didn't get to go to college, so I wanted to make sure you did.\"\n\nShe paused for a minute, then continued, \"And how did you repay me? You never came home for holidays, you didn't show up for your nephew's birth, you acted like you were too good for your simpleton older sister, who worked herself damn near to death to pay for you to go to that school. And then you graduated, which I was not invited to, if I remember correctly, because you didn't want me to bring Sam, and I couldn't afford child care. And you moved to San Francisco and founded some tech company and made millions. You never called, you never sent Sam anything for his birthday, you never came home for Christmas, hell you didn't even send a Christmas card.\n\nThen you suddenly show up on your nephew's high school graduation day and hand me $10 million? I can put Sam through college myself. I've been saving since he was born. I don't want your money, Josh.\"\n\nShe started to cry, \"Give the money to Sam, but I'm not taking a dime of it.\" She opened the door and exited, going back to the party.\n\nStunned, Josh sat on her bed and put his head in his hands. Jenny had been the only person who had loved him when he was a child. Despite only being two years older, she had been his mom. She signed his permission slips, fixed his lunch everyday, attended every single one of his basketball games, yelled at him when he stayed out too late, and had taken the brunt of the abuse from their mom and mom's boyfriends. And he had repaid her love with 20 years of silence.\n\nEdit: minor details" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Faster than light travel is routine but faster than light comms does not exist. You work on a \"packet ship\" delivering information. You come across an old radio distress call from a lost ship...following it back to it's source you find a small but prosperous colony. They are hiding, something." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's my last run of the week and let me tell you, that little cabin on Pluto is looking oh so relaxing. I'm spinning the arms of the Milky Way like nobody’s business. Making great time stepping from system to system, dropping the notes, and getting on my way. Some of the other parcel boys like to be personable with their deliveries. Me? I don't see no point in brown nosing the rich bastards. They're not the ones who sign my check.\n\nOf course it happens during my last drop. I'm out in some bumblefuck cluster on the edge of Andromeda when it happens. I shouldn't even be out here. I picked up Clancy's run so he could stick close to the Magellanic Cloud. No good deed goes unpunished, right?\n\nI drop the parcel and these guys are nothing but thankful, like they haven't seen anyone outside their little planet for years. It's slow tidings this side of the universe, so I can't blame them. But I'm almost out when the comms intercept the transmission. My damn thrusters were almost done heating up. If I drifted an inch to the right instead of the left when I left orbit, I wouldn't have heard a peep. I'd be sitting next to the fire with a hot chocolate in my hand.\n\nBut as it is, I hear it, and let me tell you did my ears perk up. It's scratchy as hell, but I can make out the words. 'Alpha Six-Six-Niner'. A general distress call. But those smiling bozos planet side must not have heard it. There's not another rock or colony for 100 AU in any direction.\n\nI think maybe it's just my ears acting up. Maybe I can jump before I convince myself there was something there. But the static hisses and the call comes through again.\n\nSo now I'm sitting here, rubbing my eyes, imagining a warm cabin on that icy rock while the computer tracks down the signal. How do I always get myself into these messes? Why can't I be the type of guy who just clocks in and clocks out and never says a word to nobody? That guy must have the longest life expectancy in the universe.\n\nThe computer dings. Medium class cargo vessel, an hour jump into the middle of nowhere, deep space. What the hell are they doing out there?\n\nI'm questioning myself the entire time I'm in the hole. Space and time are bending around the black hole I just punched in it, but all I can think about is a way out. I don't have any spare parts to patch up their ship if it's a mechanical issue. There's certainly no space in my Runner to ferry the crew back to civilization. The hole fizzles out around me and I keep my finger on the trigger as the ship returns to linear space. If this is a set up, I'm ready to jump and never look back.\n\nBut man, is this anything but. The message is blaring loud and clear through the cockpit speakers, but there ain't no ship to be seen. Instead, there's a colony the size of the moon, sleek and chrome, with hundreds of butting structures like a bunch of metal shavings rolled into a ball. I know my way around the universe and let me tell you, whatever this is, it ain't on no map.\n\nThe distress call is still looping. 'Alpha Six-Six-Niner.' I gatta hit the trigger. I gatta get out of here before they notice me. But I'm a fool and I fly the Runner towards the base of the colony. The airlock light flashes green and the shudder doors open like some gaping mouth to the abyss.\n\nI set her down real nicely in an empty docking bay. There's only one controller on duty, but he's got more than enough pride in his job for a whole army of 'em. He waves me in and secures my bird. I open the bridge door, but don't unlatch the stairs.\n\n\"Hey,\" I call down. The man's still furiously tying knots and patching in connectors.\n\n\"Howdy,\" he calls back. \"What brings you in?\"\n\n\"I traced a distress call from over by Gargados and--\"\n\n\"Oh, swell fellas over there, don't you think?\"\n\n\"Yeah, great.\" I look around the dock. There's room for an armada, but it's just me and him. \"Anyway, it came from a cargo ship. You seen any around?\"\n\n\"Oh sure, just came and went. Bad on board nav. Wound up all the way out here because of it.\" The man laughed like two tin cans rubbing against each other.\n\n\"And where is here? I've spun this joint a few times in my day, and I don't remember every running past you guys.\"\n\n\"Lookie here, you're just in time for the gang to get back.\"\n\nThe airlock doors grind open and rattle the whole bay. For a second, it sucks the oxygen out of my cockpit and my face swells up like a strangled hog. The bridge door swings shut and the canned air comes streaming back in. I'm trying to watch the airlock, but I'm coughing and crying and trying to drag the soul back into my body.\n\nBy the time I'm upright, a hundred ships are already in the bay. Thousands of them come sailing through the airlock, Runners and cargo transits, assault and luxury ships of all makes, everything from government Destroyers to homemade death traps comes pouring in from the void beyond.\n\nI catch the man's eye. He isn't waving anyone in, just staring at me. He's not wearing a suit, just mechanics overalls. He should be dead, but it doesn't look like anyone told him that.\n\nFuck this. I'm not standing any longer. Sorry distressed cargo, you're ganna have to find your own way out. I hit the trigger and sever the attaching lines. My thrusters are still warm and the ship jumps at once. I don't even sail 20 feet before she punches a hole and I'm out of there. Sure, there'll be some scorch marks and warped steel, and that mechanic will be time-sick as a dog for a few weeks, but they got a big colony there, they'll figure it out.\n\nI exhale heavily and hit the trigger again. I just needed a short jump to get out of there. I can reset my bearings once I hit linear space, forget this whole thing ever happened. I can feel Kalie rubbing up against me under a warm blanket already.\n\nBut the hole fades and I'm still in the docking bay. The airlock is closed and ships are lined up as far as the eye can see. I look far enough down the dock that it curves below itself and disappears. I rub my eyes, but nothing changes.\n\nThe mechanic is still there, a hard worn smile curling up beneath his pitted eyes.\n\n\"That's a mighty fine vessel you have there,\" he says. \"It'll be a great addition. Welcome to the force, private. C'mon, go make yourself comfortable.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: After waking in a world where spoken word becomes literal reality, you accidentally commit murder via metaphor." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I’d confessed and been charged in the same afternoon. I’d been hit with Murder by Metaphor in the First Degree. Here in New York, the Metaphor would get me an extra three years hard time automatically.\n\nI hadn’t meant to kill the guy, I’d panicked. He had walked up to my car in the parking, I guess I had cut him off or something. He puffed up and glared at me like a dentist sizing up a lion. That’s where I made the mistake, trying to deescalate the situation, but I get nervous and I messed it up.\n\n“Woah hold on their buddy, calm down, you look like a bomb about to go off.”\n\nThat did him in. The cops wrote up the report saying it was “cruel” and “showed clear signs of a creative psychopath.” They didn’t believe it was a mistake. Hell, several of them are still in counseling from responding to the scene. They even tried to call it an act of terrorism. My state-appointed public defender didn’t seem competent either, a new guy by the name of Strunk.\n\nI took the stand and blandly answered the questions of the prosecutor, Mr. White. The Mr. Strunk crss-examined.\n\n“Mr. McCarthy, may you repeat EXACTLY what you said…to the departed.”\n\n“I don’t really want too…in case something happens…”\n\n“It’s alright Mr. McCarthy, just use the pronoun he, not you.”\n\n“I told him HE looked like a bomb about to go off”\n\nMr. Strunk turned around with a flourish.\n\n“According to the case of Hemingway vs. Palahniuk a metaphor is a device that identifies one item as another unlike item which is different from a simile which uses ‘like’ or ‘as.’”\n\nThe prosecution objected, “but similes are no more than a type of metaphor!”\n\n“Ah, but the case of Oxford vs. Wikipedia shows this is not legally the case! The prosecution does not even know what murder weapon Mr. McCarthy supposedly used! ” Mr. Strunk retorted.\n\nHe continued.\n\n“Mr. McCarthy, what would you say caused you to say the departed look like a bomb, which sounds rather odd don’t you think?”\n\n“Sir, he had a short fuze.”\n\n“Literally?”\n\n“Yes literally”\n\n“…and did you say anything that would have caused him to literally have a short fuze?” Mr. Strunk queried.\n\n“No, the bomb comment was the first thing I said to him” I truthfully responded.\n\n“So, is it perhaps that another person had just nagged him about having a short fuze, perhaps his wife, who was present at the scene that caused him to explode?”\n\nMr. Strunk continued his barrage of the prosecutions points for three hours. The wife took the stand, surprise witnesses were called. The jury deliberated for only one. I left a free man.\n\nI walked nervously from the court room, I was free, but my life was in shambles. The lead detective on the case approached fast and with a purpose. He grabbed my collar.\n\n“Look asshole, you got off on a technicality. Simile, metaphor, I don’t care. I’m going to be watching you like a damn hawk…wait.”\n\n“I’m getting to old for this shit” he groaned as he took flight." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: This was her favorite hobby... Seducing a new toy to bring home for a threesome." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She entered the coffee shop, no one there. The girl behind the counter was a slim brunette with her hair in a bun and a short sleeved polo behind the ugly, green coverall. She had on a mask but her eyes smiled, my what beautiful arched eyebrows! She asked to see the girl's pretty nails and held her hand, then took forever to point things out on the menu, just so she could have the girl turn around. Her little rump was deliciously filling out her white cotton shorts and she already knew she wanted to nibble those inner thighs when they were slick with her wetness.\n\nShe told her she was checking her out, that she would order two drinks just to sit there and stare at her. \"You don't look like.....?\" The girl behind the counter offered, she clearly didn't mind the attention. Ginnie was the barista's name, a heart on the letter 'i'. She read the name tag when Ginnie walked the chai tea to her seat. \"I like playing with girls and boys.\" Lena looked in her eyes and smiled, held her hand in hers. Time stood still until Ginnie asked where she lived, what she did. \"Laid off, used to be an architect. I live five blocks from here. I'm lonely and bored and I want to make a pretty girl happy and you're the one I want.\" Lena rattled off her address and handed Ginne an old business card. Ginnie felt less creeped on how, she blushed, her eyes roamed over Lena's face...hair.....bare arms....shoes. The girls always checked out the shoes.\n\nFor the next twenty minutes, Lena put on her headphones and lounged back on the overstuffed chair, eyes half closed, and listened to her audio book. He texted her, \"happy huntin ?\". She sent back \"Make dinner for three ;)\" She opened her eyes when Ginnie joined her. Lena wanted to eat her up. She lifted her mask for a moment to smile with one slightly crooked tooth, she knew this was one of those nights neither she nor Ed would be able to resist her. If she didn't know how skittish this one was, she'd have kissed her right there.\n\n\"Listen. I.....I am not into girls.\"\n\n\"No? Never even thought about it?\"\n\n\"Well.....\" Ginne shrugged and her eyes smiled that tiniest bit. Lena had her foot in the door.\n\n\"Don't worry sweetie\" Lena showed Ginne the wallpaper on her phone. Her and Ed, last summer after a bike trip, \"Like him? Take me, get him free. Not super big but he uses it good. We'll make you dinner, get you some nice wine and make love to you. And sweetie, take my advice, you don't know what you're missing until you've had two tongues and two horny hands all over you.\"\n\nGinnie was flustered and left. As if on cue, some other customers also entered. Lena felt a shadow of doubt, perhaps she'd been too aggressive. Perhaps Ginnie was offended she didn't ask whether Ginnie was in a relationship. She didn't care, she wanted a plaything, and the less they knew the less Ed was going to pine for her afterwards. Or her.\n\nLena ordered a second coffee anyway, and sat there watching Ginne. When their eyes met, she smiled. She had come up empty a few times and those times Ed had brought out the riding crop. Bastard, she'd told him to use it every time but he denied her the pleasure-pain. He would tease her and say \"It's more fun when you that failing also has it's own reward.\"\n\nLena weighed her options, she'd have to use the restroom and leave soon. She texted Ed, \"Can you come down to coffee shop 56 S Broad? Ginnie. 1-2 punch time\" She snapped a picture of Ginnie and sent it to him. She touched herself for a bit after she peed. She wanted to smother Ginnie's sweaty o-face between her tits and feel Ed's thrusts through her body. Seeing these demure, timid girls turn into shameless, slutty fuckpets was half the fun. With any luck the two headed dildo would come out to play tonight. Her phone buzzed, she didn't bother looking at it. It was him.\n\nThey 1-2'ed Ginne. He walked up to the counter and she joined him there. Ginnie looked at both of them. He waved like an idiot and she winked at Ginnie, which looked disarmingly goofy-cute with the masks they had on. He tried to order coffee but she stopped him and leaned over the counter. \"Give me a pen Ginnie, I'll give you our address and phone number if you want it. We're not psychos and we're clean. This is not the first time I'm doing this. If you say yes now, I'll have him drink some pineapple juice instead of coffee.\"\n\nA long moment passed, people lined up behind them.\n\n\"M..my shift ends in an hour.....\" Ginne was grinning now, they were in this together.\n\nLena took a pen from behind the counter and scribbled on her cup. \"We eat in an hour an a half then. See where the evening goes after.\" She turned to Ed, \"Do you want her to pretty up for her date?\" Ed was gawking and shaking his head, Lena knew his type too well. Lena discreetly blew a kiss. \"Come straight over. See you soon, sweetheart.\" They all waved. It was awkward but they knew it was what Ginnie would be comfortable with until they'd kissed and licked her where she was ticklish.\n\nOutside, Ed pressed his mask against hers and squeezed her. Lena knew what was going on in his mind, the horny prick. \"You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you, honey? There's a bartender at.....\" but Ed was jogging ahead of her. One of these days he was going to learn to share her. Lena could wait. She picked up speed after him. Maybe they could get in some oral action before Ginnie came over." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Smith, a Godless teenager in a world where everyone has their own deity that acts as their patreon finds an abandoned altar cleans it, hoping that perhaps the ancient, abandoned God would take pity on him and blesses him. He wished someone had told him sooner that Satan was technically a God." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Smith tried to move backward on the ground, kicking his heels into the cobblestones and pushing back with the palm of his right hand. He seemed glued to the stone. His jeans wouldn't give an inch, it was like he suddenly weighed a thousand pounds and was soaking wet. His body moved mostly involuntarily, his eyes were fixed on the figure rising like thick smoke above the alter.\n\nAbove the flat and circular stone of the alter a body now took shape. Widest at the shoulders, the figure was clad in heavy armor. The metal was dark and had the appearance of rough stone. The massive shoulder armor was shaped into grotesque gargoyle faces. They connected to a smooth, black leather waist and a massive belt that hung from it a large sword.\n\nSmith could not believe what he was seeing and wished he hadn't seen it at all. This was not how a God revealed itself. At least not how anyone had ever explained it to him before. \"It will just happen, son.\" his father had told him at least a hundred times. Everyone in his family had been connected with a God early in their lives. His mother met Diantha when she was five years old. She was running through a field when someone ran next to her and carried her into the sky. His brother, Benji, had found a God at the river while everyone was swimming. Pulled into slack water, Benji found himself floating in one place while everyone passed by. Asterion had been with him ever since. But Smith had never had even a moment where something called to him, found him or showed him a thing. And now, he was on the ground bleeding from a mangled, crushed left hand while a terrifying shape rose before him. Jonn and Gregg had chased him into the cemetery and he lost them in this tomb. They told him he was doomed to be a servant to those with Gods since he couldn't summon one himself.\n\nThe figure on the altar was now whole. He stood at least seven feet tall. Below the black leather belt was a worn chiton of heavy fabric. The legs were exposed and showed a dark, red, and rough skin that was wrapped with leather ties for the grieves that covered his shins. Smith hadn't noticed that the figure had turned and was now looking down at him. Smith had been scared before, but now he was terrified. The face was dark and a deep, unsettling red. The proud brow was angled inward, his eyebrows at high peaks, the eyes both sunken and fierce. His long, wide chin was weathered and scarred. The face stared at Smith intensely.\n\nBarefoot beneath the grieves, a large calloused foot stepped down from the altar and towards Smith. If Smith was stuck before, now he was a statue. Holding his mangled left hand by the wrist, as blood dripped down his right forearm. His mouth, agape, was drying as he continued to breathe in without stopping, without blinking. The massive figure bent down now, and Smith could feel intense heat coming from him. Beneath the fearsome head, a carved breastplate in the same stone-like metal was stretched over a massive chest. The figure reached out and grabbed Smith's what was left of Smith's left hand. Smith went limp under the grip. The hand was gigantic, black nails at the end of the huge ropelike fingers and Smith felt like a willow branch in his grip.\n\nSuddenly, Smith's hand was released. It fell to his side as the figure stood again and stepped back to the altar. Smith instinctively grabbed his left arm but to his shock, it was no longer disfigured, no longer even scarred. He stared dumbly and ran his fingers over each other in amazement. He looked back at the figure, now with both hands over the altar. \"Sorry about the hand, child. My pets don't have treats thrown in their faces very often.\" The voice was deep and chilling. Like the sound of huge water tanks when someone hits them.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked Smith as he rose to his feet. His legs now steadied beneath him, he still held his left arm in his right, but now out of curiosity. The figure did not turn around but continued staring deeply into the altar. Smith inched towards the altar, keeping his eyes on the armor. \"You fixed my arm. Thank you.\" Smith said as he kept a distance but brought himself closer to the figure's left. The altar came into view and was glowing a fiery orange. The center of the altar became a torrent of fire all contained in a two-dimensional plane. The figure looked deeply into the orange glow. \"You do not need to thank me. I am sure in time, you would happily trade that arm back for what we would do together.\" Smith stood still and listened carefully. He was sure now, this was a God. His God. It had finally happened! \"I am Apollyon. You have brought me into this world and I am now yours to protect and serve.\" The figure now turned to Smith, so quickly it made Smith step back and gasp. The red face was terrifying in the glow of the altar, the sunken eyes burned the same orange as the stone beneath it. The figure continued, \"But I warn you now - though you may have my protection, you do not have my obedience. Though you have my service, never forget that our goals may not be the same.\" Smith stared into the wild eyes and tried to understand.\n\nApollyon turned now to the entrance to the tomb and saw Jonn and Gregg walking down the stairs. \"What the fuck are you?\" Jonn said. Gregg moved to his right \"Looks like Smiffy found a fucking a troll in here.\" Jonn had Erebus behind him, and was ready to let him wield the darkness, a blanket that would drop anyone into a virtual void, unending and inescapable blackness. Apollyon stood and turned towards them now and something bizarre took place. Erebus vanished. Smith had seen Jonn bully and torment many kids with his darkness but in this moment there was nothing behind Jonn but the reflection of the Altar's glow. Apollyon stood for a moment and laughed loudly. \"Shadows. They are only powerful when light fades. But what good is a shadow when light has been long gone?\" Jonn and Gregg panicked and ran up out of the tomb. Apollyon sneered in their direction. \"Was that it? Was hoping for a fight.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: It's almost time for monster prom, and everyone's looking for their dates. The rich vampires and the werewolves on the football team have ghouls and boils lining up for them, but you, as one of the less cool monsters, are having some problems." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A shadow. A fucking shadow. Why am I a fucking shadow.\n\nI am practicly useless. I will never be rich, or succesfull. The most I would be able to be is a shadow of someone else. Physicaly and litteraly.\n\nAnd I will never look good. Sure, I can be somewhat cool when I make shadow figures, or that I can have a good shape when someone looks at me. But no one will look at me. Because who will look at the floor when their partner is standing right infront of them.\n\nI once thought I was \"cool\" when I made one of the vampires have a shadow. After all, vampires don't have one, so if everyone see how special we are together they will surely like me.\n\nI was wrong. Jason was brought to the office to question him about his shadow, me, so when they found out I was folowing him everywhere, I was banned from school for a day. And in that time, the school managed to organize a boycott on me. Not even the other shadows talked to me.\n\nI have been seirusly considering exposing myself to light. You know, end all of that stupid shit. Life won't get better anyways. But then I met Anne.\n\nAnne is a semi vampire. They are pretty rare. Semi vampires get their vempire side exposed only after they reach human adulthood. Her adoptive human parents don't know about that yet, and she started to get afraid when her shadow started disapearing. And I was a solution. I would walk with her everywhere. And I mean everywhere. I would show up at her room a few minutes before her parents come back from work. At first I was more like a working person on job rather than a friend.\n\nBut I heard her wheep one night. She was confused. She didn't know she wanted to be a human for her parents or a vampire for her friends. So I told her I was also having a hard time. How I am on the verge of crying every single day. And how it is okay to be down sometimes. And she talked to me about how she is stressed people will start to hate her, and how she will have to stay at the monsters school forever, where everyone already don't like her. I was happy to listen to her and she was happy to listen to me.\n\nWe became friends, and got very used to each other. I would be with her everywhere, from when she wakes up in the morning to when she goes to sleep. And I know I am not suppose to feel this way, because I am a girl too, but sometimes I wish I had the courage to ask her out to prom.\n\nI really wish that. But it is too late now. Anne turned more into a vempire. She would be more thirsty to blood, and her teeth started growing, and her skin was pale. And I couldn't fix it, not by myself. And when her parents figured it out, she was already broken from the stress and she blamed it all on me. And no matter what I told her, how I tried to calm her down, it wouldn't have been enough. It is not like she actually needed me now.\n\nAnd it wouldn't have happened if i wasn't a shadow. If I was made out of something physical. But I am not." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: As the parasite pandemic continues, you have been called here because this one isn't acting like the others, the parasite is not replacing the personality, but rather mixing itself with the host, and is willing to help us develop a cure, but it wants something in return... human sensations" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They asked me to talk to him.\n\nMaybe they thought I could spark some conversation - I was young, like him. A watcher, like him. But there was a parasite inside him now, burrowing its way into his nervous system, probably making him convulse and froth at the mouth.\n\nI was skeptical when they told me he wasn’t like the others. Apparently he could speak and walk of his own volition. I had to keep some semblance of cynicism here. These leeches preyed on hope, trust, anything that bred weakness. It was best to stay cautious.\n\nWhen I first saw him, I was surprised to find they were right. I entered the cold, sterile room to find myself staring at a relatively normal man. His hair was disheveled, eyes unnaturally wide. But he was slouching, his foot tapping the linoleum floors. Nervous. They were never nervous.\n\nHis eyes lit up with recognition. “You’re with them.” I gave a meek smile in response, then I glanced over at the notes left by the previous watchers. Hesitant. Fearful. Angry - explosive, quiet. I tried to contain my excitement.\n\n“Could you state your name, please.”\n\n“I- Calvin. My name is Calvin.”\n\n“Alex.”\n\nI looked down to write something in the margins. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of black swirling into brown. I met his gaze as the two colors fought for dominance, before the black bled over. My resolve slipped at that very moment. Calm gave away to fear.\n\n“You don’t have to talk to me like that.” Calvin said, his tone darkening, just as his eyes had. They were onyx now - a telltale sign of parasite infection. Calvin’s mouth curled, noticing my apprehension. He was waiting for something.\n\n“Like what?”\n\n“Like I’ve lost it. I haven’t.” Calvin leaned forward. “I’m perfectly fine.” The tapping had ceased. His smile deepened, and broke into a hearty laugh. I kept my composure, despite the sweat that began to pool around my temples.\n\n“What do you want?” I expected a myriad of diabolical reasons why. To conquer. To study us. To kill for the hell of it.\n\n“To feel.” Calvin answered. I was floored, left speechless. Was this another ploy? His voice was a stark contrast from what it had been seconds before. It was earnest, plain and simple.\n\n“I started with senses. When I took over Calvin’s body - they became blunted.”\n\n“But I’ve found that emotions are probably the hardest one to tackle.”\n\n“They’re abstract. Difficult to catch at times. I can’t just take your anger from you - without sparking the flame. I need a trigger.”\n\nMy eyes shifted from the wall to Calvin repeatedly, before meeting his gaze. “You mean provoke?”\n\n“Pretty much.” Calvin smirked.\n\n“I want that from you. Your hope.” His posture straightened out. “It wouldn’t hurt.”\n\nThe last line was a lie, but something about it struck a chord. My family was gone. My brother, my sister, my mother - all dead, casualties of a mass infection six months ago. I poured myself into my work, hoping that something would shift. It became suffocating. Hope drove me into a constant state of panic.\n\n“I can give you a cure. I know things.\"\n\nI couldn’t believe I was actually questioning this. But I was. What was the point of hoping? Calvin could turn out to be a crook, run off with my hope with no cure, no valuable information - just nothing but the gift of dull, thoughtless despair. I considered this and I realized that the thought of being hopeless thrilled me.\n\nI got up from my chair, feeling strangely calm. I leaned forward to grab the clipboard - when Calvin caught my hand.\n\n“I’ll give you an hour.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: you're an NPC who secretly works for the Big Bad, you're job is to keep the Heroes busy with sidequests so they don't progress the main story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I stood by the town board, keeping my eyes peeled. Any minute now... There! The heroes were approaching, and they looked exhausted. I quickly stood up, and as they got closer began dancing a jig.\n\n\"Golly gosh darn galoot! If it ain't the heroes of legend! Have ya found the rest of the 99 golden eggs yet?\" I asked. They'd already found 85 of the eggs, which was far more than I'd expected them to track down before giving up.\n\n\"Hello, Otis... We found another six, but we're really struggling with the last eight,\" the young man leading the party said. Wait, six? That couldn't be right...\n\n\"Well butter my biscuits! Hand 'em here, and I'll add 'em to yer total!\" I said, taking the eggs they offered. They did indeed have six, for a total of 91, which was weird because I'd only hidden 90 eggs.\n\n\"Can't you give us a hint? We've been on this quest for six months!\" the young woman with the robe and staff asked.\n\n\"Sorry kiddos, no can do! Old Otis don't remember where those darned things went to, or I'd grab 'em myself!\" I said. I was only 32, but I'd already committed to the gray beard and fake accent, so I had to stick to being \"Old\" Otis for the time being.\n\n\"Then can you just get us the magic sword? The world is kind of at stake here!\" asked the other young man, the one with the longbow.\n\n\"Well Golly, kiddos! If I can't find them golden eggs, how am I supposed to make mah special golden omelet? And without the golden omelet, what are ya gonna offer to the goddess in exchange for the sword of legend?\" I asked.\n\nWhile it was standard to offer something to the golden goddess in exchange for favors, she probably would've just given it to them under the circumstances... And even if they did need an offering, it definitely didn't need to be a giant omelet... And even if they did need the giant omelet for the sword, it's not as if they actually needed the sword... Raymond wasn't some kind of dark god, he was just a king. A powerful king, sure, but no more sword-proof than the average person. It was really astonishing, and arguably kind of irresponsible that the heroes had taken this long looking for eggs.\n\n\"Ugh... Well, let's get to the inn, gang, we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow...\" the leader of the group said. As they walked away, I took a closer look at the eggs I'd just gotten.\n\nIndeed, four of them did seem to be plain old eggs that had been painted gold... But two of them didn't feel right. I attempted to crack one of the oddball eggs, and it barely got scratched. Wait... It was subtle, but the weight was off, and when I shook the eggs I couldn't feel the yolks sloshing around.\n\nI pondered it for a moment, then bit down on one of the strange eggs, and left a dent. Were they made of real gold? I confirmed that the heroes were out of eyeshot before running over to the local alchemist to have him take a look at it.\n\n\"Oi, Lester! Could you take a look at this egg for me?\" I asked as I entered. It appeared that Lester was in the middle of one of his doomed attempts at turning lead into gold, but he quickly put it aside.\n\n\"Eh? Otis, what the hell are you wearing?\" Lester said as he approached.\n\n\"It's a disguise, I've got to do that weird quest thing,\" I said.\n\n\"Oh right, for a second there I thought you were making fun of me. Anyway, let's take a look at this,\" Lester said. He took the egg and pulled out his magnifying lens, using it to closely examine the metal ovoid.\n\n\"I coulda sworn I'd only put painted eggs out there, but then I ended up getting one or two of these mixed in,\" I began explaining as he examined the egg.\n\n\"Hot damn, Otis, I think this is real gold!\" Lester said.\n\n\"Well, seems my luck is coming around,\" I said.\n\n\"Any chance you plan on giving your old buddy Lester a share of this new bounty?\" Lester asked.\n\n\"You can keep that one, I've got to go check something,\" I said as I left Lester's lab. I jogged over to the cellar where I'd stored the eggs the heroes had already given me, checking them one by one. Though I quickly lost patience with it, I did manage to find another real gold egg.\n\nWell... It seemed the heroes had definitely been finding eggs I hadn't put out there. What to do?\n\n...You know what? If these things were real gold, who cared what happened to King Raymond? I'd be set for life if those heroes managed to find the \"full\" set of 99. One more month of waiting around, then if they hadn't found the eggs I could just pretend I found the rest myself and cash out. Maybe move out to the countryside where I could avoid being pinned as a traitor.\n\nHell, since the heroes had stuck it out this long, I'd even be willing to actually make that crazy omelet for them..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are convicted of multiple murders and sentenced to death. You await the lethal injection cocktail and close your eyes preparing for the end. After losing consciousness you wake up in a room and hear these words, \"Welcome to the involuntary advanced physics research program.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The room was completely white and bare. It was well lit, with several young people standing around me. I had never met these people before, but I had to assume they were grad students. Naturally, I asked, \"What is this? What am I doing here?\" The young woman at the front, who looked like she was the head of the project, said, \"Maybe we should have given you some time to wake up first before introducing ourselves. Like I said, we are an advanced physics research program. This is where we test our theories on individuals who would have received the death penalty anyways.\" \"But, I should be dead anyways, I was just given the lethal injection,\" I said, feeling more confused than ever.\n\n\"Well, we just do that for the public. You were just placed in a dead-like state. We picked you up afterwards and brought you here. But, for all intents and purposes, you are considered dead to the rest of the world, which technically means that you have no rights. So this conversation is more of a courtesy than an obligation, after all, we don't really need your informed consent,\" said the grad student. I asked, \"And what kind of experiment are you conducting that would require you to utilize death row inmates?\"\n\nThe grad student corrected me, \"Not an inmate, remember, you're already presumed dead. It's the kind of experiment that are above the paygrade of a rat, but too dangerous to put any other human through. Perhaps, it's just better if we show you.\" The student made a gesture with her finger and said, \"Nathan, can you let us out?\" A door propped open from one of the walls. All of the students stepped out. I was still strapped to the bed, unable to move. Once they were outside, a slit revealed itself on the wall opposite from me. The walls slid and parted way. There was nothing visible but the darkness that emanated from the other side. The student's voice echoed from the wall, \"What you see in front of you is a black hole, one that was created in a super collider. For some reason, it appears mostly benign. Naturally, we want to investigate it, but we don't know what's going to happen if one of us goes through. We have sent rats and other animals down there, all with cameras strapped to their back, but the cameras never seem to work once they're sent through there. I think the best that we can do is send a human down there and then have them try to come back to report what they've found.\"\n\nI didn't know what to say. It felt like I was just being put to death a minute ago, but I guess one is never truly prepared to face a black hole. The straps suddenly became unlocked and I was free to move around. The student's voice came through again, \"You're free to stay where you are, but just know that nothing is coming into that room anymore. Nobody is going in there, there's no food or water coming your way, no form of entertainment, nothing. So unless you want to sit here and just waste away, I'd recommend complying.\"\n\nI wish I could say that walking through that black hole was easy, because it wasn't. Even though I knew my options were limited, I was still terrified to find out what was on the other side. I placed my hand in first, and to my surprise, I felt nothing. Feeling more confident, I stepped through into a vast plane of nothingness. I felt my very being melt away, I was starting to merge with this nothingness. Everything I was, and everything I am would be erased soon. Yet, the transition was peaceful, and I was not scared anymore. Everything I've done would soon fade, and I would no longer have to hear the voices of my victims in my head. I soon realized that heaven wasn't a place with clouds and trumpets. For me, heaven was here." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You have died and gone.....somewhere. You're not sure if you are in heaven or hell and are trying to figure it out through context clues." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I can feel some semblance of consciousness returning after what felt like an eternity of drifting in somewhere cold and heavy. Weird, I thought I died. My first instinct was to inhale a large amount of air, and I forced my eyes open at the same time.\n\nA grey ceiling looked back at me. I wasn't floating anymore, I realized. In fact, I was laying on what seemed to be a semi-comfortable bed in what appeared to be a hotel room. Something didn't feel quite right though.\n\nThere was a bump under my back. I rolled about to get into a more comfortable position, trying to remember what happened. A sharp pain runs through my side, and I jolt into an upright position, cradling the spot that had been pinched as I looked down.\n\nThe bed spring had poked itself out of the fabric. With a sigh of frustration, I got off the accursed piece of furniture, unwilling to be jabbed any further if the metallic creaking sounds the bed made were any indication. I took in my surroundings.\n\nThe room was... unpleasant in a way. While perfectly clean, the way it was decorated felt completely off. Who the hell matches bright yellow and dark green together? My eyes could barely look at it, and this wasn't taking into account the floor was a disastrous mix of hot pink and dark brown.\n\nStanding on my feet felt uncomfortable too. It was like I slipped on a pair of wet socks, except I wasn't wearing any. Conscious of my breathing once more, I sighed and closed my eyes. Alright, where am I? What happened?\n\nI am inside a hideously designed hotel room, that hasn't been very well maintained. For some reason, my clothing feel like they are socking wet despite the fact they are perfectly dry. Especially my socks. It felt like true hell. As I continued pondering, an incessant ringing noise echoed through the room.\n\n\"Fuck!\" I cursed without thinking, at the sheer volume. I scrambled towards the door, determining it as the source of the most annoying sound I have heard in years. My first few attempts at opening the door felt as the knob jiggled, refused to turn and I even lost my grasp once, but I finally manage to pull it open.\n\nThe ringing stopped at least, but in front of me was what seemed to be the hotel manager? Before I could open my mouth to ask what happened, he shushes me with a finger to the mouth. My fists clenched slightly at the infuriating gesture.\n\n\"Well, I am sure you are wondering why you are here. Put simply, you died.\"\n\nMy god, his voice was annoyingly high pitched for some reaso- Wait, what? I died? My mouth was apparently open, considering he put out his hand once more and pushed my jaw upwards to close it.\n\n\"I know, this can be very hard to accept. You drowned after being swept up by a tidal wave.\"\n\nSo that is why I felt wet. But I was dry? Wait, I am dead. My mind is whirling with confusion now, and disbelief. I am dead? But I am here, right now. I don't get it. Is this an afterlife? It has to be.\n\n\"So.... is this Heaven or Hell?\" I decide to ask.\n\nThe man gives me the most punchable smirk I have ever seen in my life.\n\n\"Neither. Welcome to Heck.\"\n\nDread fills me as my face pales. No. Noooo.\n\n\"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!\" I yelled. An endless life of terrible inconveniences and discomfort!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: The princess was given a curse where her first husband would die a horrible death. In order to avoid this fate, the royal family used you as scapegoat and married you to the princess, but because of your immortality you have now died over 10 times and still continue to come back to life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's never nice. I just want to get that clear right away. The death is never nice. These are painful, slow, and disgusting affairs. Just horrible.\n\nI also want to say, I didn't know I would revive when I went through with the plan. I was raised by a single mother, with a half dozen younger siblings. I had never found an apprenticeship, not for myself. I helped a couple of my siblings, but my life was headed nowhere.\n\nThen the magistrate came to me with an offer. I've never caught how they picked me, but the money for my family, the promise of profitable marriages for my sisters, the offer of a political apprenticeship for Matthew, the youngest of my brothers, it was all so much, and I just had to marry Princess Tiffany. And probably die. I had a little concern on that front, but hey, I got over it. Clearly.\n\nIt wasn't a bad wedding. Small. They got Mom a great dress. I kissed a princess. Not much different than kissing any other girl to be honest. Hey, I may be poor, but I'm not ugly.\n\nRight, so yeah, month goes by, no death, some court wizard say marriage needs consummated. Yada yada, et cetera and so forth. Next morning, I stumble out a window, land on the top of a flagpole, skewering my intestines, and slowly bled out. They cut my corpse down, put me in a mausoleum. I don't remember that. What I remember is waking up to my widow, weeping over me as some priest yammered away.\n\nThere was terrified screaming. A few minor stabbings by terrified guards, and I was dead again. Just for a day, no hard feelings. Next time I came back, Tiff and her dad were at my side. As was a wizard. The one who figured out why the curse hadn't worked prior.\n\n\"Yep, he's immortal,\" the wizard said. \"Sorry, kid. This is gonna suck. Hope you're a masochist.\"\n\n\"He's going to keep dying?\" Tiff sounded, honestly, concerned. I felt a bit guilty. We barely knew each other. The marriage wasn't meant to last, so we never really invested in it.\n\n\"Well, yeah. Curses don't break easy. And he's a bit tough to really end.\"\n\n\"There has to be a way to sort this,\" the king said.\n\nThe wizard shrugged, \"Sure, probably. Lemme look into it.\"\n\nHonestly, this wizard seemed pretty cool. \"Sorry, wizard, I... What's your name?\"\n\nHe chuckled. \"Martizolanther the Seventh and five-eighths scionite of the Coliria Eternum Hall of Thaumaturgical Arts Smythe. None of that is a title. My parents were far from subtle about their hopes.\"\n\n\"Can I call you Marty?\"\n\n\"Not even once.\"\n\n\"Ok.\"\n\n\"Ok, wizard, see what you can find to fix the poor boy,\" the king grumbled as he all but shoved Marty out the door.\n\nTiff suddenly hugged me tight. I didn't know how to react. I just stroked her hair and whispered, \"It'll be okay.\"\n\nI didn't die again for a month, though that was the hot oil. I do NOT recommend it. A week after that was the horse trampling. By the end of the year, I'd died a half dozen more times.\n\nAnd then there was last week. I didn't die, but it was still a bit painful. Tiff came rushing into our room, crying. \"They're going to kill you!\" We'd gotten close over the last year. Once we realized I wasn't going away, we started talking, spending meals together, going on trips. She would occasionally cook a meal with my mom. I wouldn't say we fell in love, but we may have ambled in to it.\n\n\"Honey, it's fine. The pain is bad, but it's a bit fun, experiencing these things.\"\n\n\"No, not just... They aren't working to break the curse. My dad and the wizard.\"\n\n\"Ok? So... what are they doing?\"\n\n\"They are looking how to break your immortality! \"\n\nI don't tend to get angry. My life before marriage, anger was a weakness people would use against you. Once I was here, anger wouldn't really do much to help me against a curse. But I held a tiny ember inside every time the king made a snide comment about me. Gutter rat, poor, my daughter's first husband, asking if I was going to die today. The man was a prick. But I didn't get angry. And I wasn't about to now.\n\n\"What are we going to do?\" Tiff asked. She'd pulled me into a tight hug.\n\nI stroked her hair and whispered, \"It'll be okay. I think I have a plan. Do you know where I can find the witch who cursed you?\"\n\nShe shoved back from me, looking terrified. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Have I lied to you yet? I told you, I have a plan. And something tells me, she had one, too.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: Everyone's skin is tattooed with a timer counting down the time until when they meet their soulmate. If your soulmate dies, the numbers freeze. One day, your number halts and you mourn the death of a loved one you will never meet. However, a year later, your timer inexplicably starts once more." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Morgan stared down at the numbers on her arm.\n\nNo, she thought. It was impossible. It should have been impossible. She blinked her eyes and clenched her fists, sure that the nails digging into her palms would wake her up from the nightmare she was sure she was having. She was going to wake up any moment now, in her bed, in the world--the real world--where soulmates don't inexplicably come back from the dead.\n\nShe squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them, and yet--the numbers continued ticking down. And even faster than before. Where once it had frozen to over a decade, now it was rapidly spiralling down to minutes. A minute!\n\nShe looked around at the mall. If this was a dream, it was the cruellest one she had in a year. Any one of them could've been her soulmate and she could've missed them. Her heart hammered in her chest as the numbers spiralled down to seconds. She still couldn't see them, were they behind--\n\n\"Hey,\" said a soft, warm voice, and Morgan knew who it was before she turned.\n\nChocolate brown hair, bright blue eyes, and freckles she could've gotten lost in filled her view. \"Hi,\" Morgan squeaked back.\n\n\"I, um,\" the brunette stammered and flushed, taking Morgan's hand even while her insides were doing cartwheels. She's alive, her brain helpfully supplied as the brunette rolled up one of her plaid flannel sleeves. She's alive... she's alive... she's alive...\n\n\"I-ah-I should've told you my name before I ambushed ya like this,\" the brunette mumbled, her face still red. \"I'm Samantha... and I-I woulda' had something more eloquent to say but my mind's not bringing out the speech I prepared...\"\n\nMorgan couldn't help but laugh. \"It's fine,\" she said breathlessly as she took in her soulmate's reddening face and the small smile that threatened to peek out of the corner of her lips. Lips that Morgan had a sudden urge to kiss.\n\n\"I thought you were dead,\" her mouth said instead, and Morgan winced as she saw the fire in Samantha's eyes fade a little.\n\n\"I thought you were too,\" Sam whispered, almost inaudible over the busy mall.\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\nA sardonic grin appeared on her soulmate's face, and Morgan felt ice cold dread pool in her veins. Sam's eyes burned. \"I was... about to...\" She shrugged helplessly as Morgan realized that Sam was crying. She clasped one of the brunette's hands, feeling her shiver despite the heat of the afternoon sun. \"I was so close, Morgan...\" Sam mumbled, wiping at her eyes. \"Gun to my head, about to pull the trigger, when all I saw were the numbers stopping and I knew I couldn't.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" Morgan found herself asking.\n\n\"You probably woulda never forgiven me if you found me at the pearly gates 'cause I killed myself,\" Sam huffed, though there was a sad smile through the pain radiating from the brunette's face. \"And I wanted t'know what kinda person you were before you were gone,\" she said. \"So I kept fighting just so I could make you proud.\"\n\nMorgan remembered those dark days and nights all too well. Her life fell apart, took her months to find herself again. There was more than one day where she wanted to end it, to just stop fighting...\n\nToday was the first time she felt truly alive--\n\n\"Wait,\" Morgan said, her mind catching up and analyzing her thoughts again. \"You were in a rut before, right?\"\n\n\"Yeah--I mean you were listening before, right?\" There was something vulnerable in the brunette's eyes, and Morgan squeezed her hand before she could say anything else.\n\n\"I was listening, I just... I know why your numbers stopped. Same as mine,\" Morgan added quickly.\n\nThrough wet eyes, Morgan could see how the brunette was thinking, her face brightening as she came to the same conclusion as she did. \"No...\" Sam muttered, a weak, wet chuckle escaping her lips. \"We--we saved each other, didn't we?\" She buried her face into Morgan's chest, and the blonde blushed as a few onlookers whistled and clapped.\n\n\"We gave each other the will to live,\" Sam mumbled from somewhere in her chest. The brunette looked up with an apologetic smile. \"Sorry, sounded better in my head.\"\n\n\"Too cheesy,\" Morgan chuckled.\n\n\"Hey, at least I got the ending right.\"\n\nMorgan shook her head. \"Not an ending. A beginning.\"\n\nSam rolled her eyes. \"Least we're even with cheesy romcom lines.\" She glanced at a nearby restaurant. \"Wanna grab something and bemoan our terribly cheesy new beginning together?\"\n\nMorgan laughed as she pulled Sam with her, a lightness in her step she hadn't felt in a long time." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: Angels and demons have come to wage war over which side will rule Earth. Unfortunately for us, both sides see humans the same way: as food." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A dark-skinned woman dressed neatly in her suit jacket and her black hair tied in a bun approached the reinforced glass. Her blue eyes gazed intently at the figure standing before her. Without turning her head away she spoke. \"You're certain the nullification field is holding?\" she asked. A man wearing a white lab coat looked over to answer. \"Yes ma'am, all the energies are stable\".\n\nOn the floor within the transparent cage sat a large bald man with a beer belly wearing a dusty brown jacket over a stained white shirt and denim pants. A smug smile could be seen underneath their bushy beard, showing they were clearly at ease despite their situation. The woman outside turned back to the row of personnel, all wearing clean white uniforms and lab coats seated in front of several holographic computer terminals, with armed guards standing at each entrance to the room. \"The tests all confirmed that they're a demon?\" She asked. A younger woman, with her lab coat clearly looking wrinkled and worn perked up to answer. \"Yes ma'am. He's... practically overflowing with Hell energies. More than any human should be able to produce, even with magical training. And... he says he has a message for you...\"\n\nThe formally-dressed woman's face tensed before she spoke again. \"Yes, I read the report. That he won't speak to anyone other than a Foundation Councilor. And that what he has to say concerns humanity's safety...\" She said, before turning back to the large man grinning at her from within the containment chamber. Steeling her nerve she began speaking in an authoritative tone. \"Activate the speaker systems and initiate audio safety protocols.\"\n\nLow mechanical whirring could be heard as a red warning light turned on inside the room. When a smaller light above the containment chamber turned on, the woman spoke again. \"This is Councilor Samantha Osei speaking. If I were you I would hope that whatever message you have for us is important enough to keep us from exorcising or experimenting upon you, demon\"\n\nThe man laughed heartily in a deep voice. \"Exorcise me? That won't make much of a difference very soon, Councilor Osei. And I doubt your people will have time to run experiments with what's about to happen.\"\n\n\"Get to the point.\" She interjected.\n\n\"Yes, yes... I'm sure you're a busy woman so I shan't waste any more of your time. There's been talk that the Celestial Covenant will be ending soon.\" The man answered.\n\n\"The Celestial Covenant?\" Samantha repeated. A young man spoke up from behind his holographic computer. \"According to our research, the Celestial Covenant is some kind of magically-binding agreement between Angels and Demons to not actively wage war and take over opposing and neutral domains. This, of course, includes Earth.\"\n\nThe man inside the cage let out another chuckle. \"In the simplest of terms, Councilor Osei, this covenant is what has kept all of our domains peaceful since time immemorial. But the big boss of The Damned Circles is becoming... unsatisfied with things. And from what I hear... The Angels themselves are getting quite restless too. If they both renounce this covenant, then war is sure to follow. And as I'm sure you and your brilliant Foundation are aware, our people will need mortal souls to fuel the war machine...\"\n\nSamantha narrowed her eyes at the caged demon. \"If what you're saying is true, then why are you telling us this? Wouldn't both angels and demons benefit from catching humanity unaware when their conquest begins?\" She questioned.\n\nThe fat man stood up, his smile disappearing. \"The ones IN CHARGE benefit. Not us...\" He said with conviction. \"... Not the wretches at the bottom of the ladder who must prove ourselves in battle... All so that the lords above may deem us worthy of sharing in the spoils of war. The fate that awaits me in war is nothing compared to whatever your people do with me...\" The man paused with a sigh, before continuing. \"Besides... I'm a Demon of Sloth. And an all-out war for survival makes it very... VERY hard to find mortals being lazy...\" He said, his intensity fading out as his calm demeanor returned.\n\nThe man's smile returned. \"Those like me would prefer if this conflict locked into a stalemate. Earth is a very important domain after all. Whoever controls Earth controls a limitless supply of soul energy, and would win the war by sheer attrition. If Earth were to... somehow... remain neutral and uncontrolled by either side, constantly sucking away at their resources as they fought a war on two fronts... Perhaps they would be encouraged to consider a new covenant.\"\n\nSamantha frowned as the man finished his explanation. \"And this is where we come in?\"\n\n\"Of course, Councilor Osei! Your human governments have always been slow, inefficient, and incompetent at addressing threats in a timely manner. But your international Foundation... from what I understand, has spent centuries studying our kind, preparing weapons and technology to defend humanity from us should we threaten your planet. You see, someone had to warn you so you'd be prepared when the skies fall and the rifts between our worlds tear open. What was your public slogan again...? 'Guiding humanity through the dark'? Well your world is about to enter some VERY dark times, Councilor...\" He said, with his uncanny grin in full view.\n\nSamantha's frown remained as she turned back around to the researchers. \"Shut off the speakers\" She commanded. The red warning lights turned off as several machines were heard powering down. An older man, whose face had gone pale turned to Samantha. \"M-Ma'am...? What do we... What do we do?\" He asked. Samantha closed her eyes for a moment, deep in thought.\n\n\"What is the status of the LEGION project?\" Samantha asked. The pale man quickly brought up screens on his holographic projection. \"Replication of the Legion war machine has already been successful but... field testing by pilots hasn't been approved yet. Our only reference is a salvaged Angelic War Machine so we... don't know what it would do to a human pilot when it was designed to be controlled by Angels...\" The older man answered.\n\n\"Send a message to the LEGION site director that test piloting has been personally approved by Councilor Osei due to urgent circumstances.\" Samantha said. she then turned to one of the armed guards, standing stiff with fear in their eyes. \"You! Head for the Task Force Control Center and tell them to send a report to my office on the status and assignments of all of our active units and operatives.\" She ordered. \"Yes ma'am!\" the guard answered as he ran out of the room.\n\nSamantha brought her wrist up to her face, pressing a button on a small device bringing up a holographic display. Fiddling with it, she began calling her secretary who answered promptly. \"Yes Councilor?\" The voice on the other end asked. \"Rita, send a message to the members of the Foundation Council, priority Alpha-1. I am calling an emergency meeting regarding the activation of the Armageddon Contingency.\"\n\nA young man paled and slumped in his seat. \"Oh God...\" he breathed out. Samntha turned to the man, fixing him with a stern gaze. \"Pull yourself together and don't pray. Faith won't save you...\" She said as she began heading for the room's exit. She paused, before turning back to all of the wide eyes in the room staring back at her.\n\n\"All we have is hope... That all of our research and preparation will be enough to save us...\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: God listens to your wish and sends you back in time 10 years to fourth grade in order to get the girl you’ve always dreamed of. Unknown to you, God sends her back as well." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I looked down & saw that i was at a desk, a crayon shaped piece of paper was taped to the front of it with my name, Nathan, written on it in sharpie.\n\n“Oh my God, actual God. You did it. Thank you so much.”\n\nI quickly looked over, remembering exactly where she’d sat, Maxy, 2 seats to my left. I saw her looking around frantically before standing up. She drew in a breath, preparing to say something when our 4th grade teacher suddenly announced that it was time for recess.\n\nMaxy looked even more confused and stood where she was, before our teacher Mrs. Jackson walked up to her & told her to follow the class. The disbelieving look on her face stayed there, i didn’t think much of it.\n\nI followed my class down the hallway, a little unused to being 4’6 again, but i eventually made my way outside. I walked over to the small grove of oak trees at the edge of my playground before turning around to watch Maxy.\n\nShe walked to the middle of the soccer field and stood there, staring at the ground. We’d been best friends forever, before she’d moved in the 4th grade after some of the larger boys in our grade had assaulted her. I walked over to her, trying to steal my mind to communicate like a 9 year old would.\n\nShe saw me approaching & the disbelieving look in her eyes grew stronger. “Nathan..?” she spoke, the sweet sound of her voice filled my ears and my heart warmed.\n\n“Hiya Maxy-“ she interrupted me, “Max.” & i jolted. She’d always been called Maxy in 4th grade. I knew from her instagram later in my life that she’d taken on just being called Max but i was confused now.\n\n“Okay... Max. How’s it goin?” she stared at me for a second before turning her head to survey the playground. “Ohhhh... this cant be happening.” she whispered, so soft i could barely hear it.\n\n“What’s wrong Maxy- i mean, Max?” She took my hand and quickly pulled me over so that we were underneath the shade of an oak tree.\n\n“Nathan, i’m about to tell you something, & you’re not going to believe me.” She said. I nodded slowly, signaling for her to go on. “I’ve traveled back in time. I’m supposed to be 19 now, but for some reason i’m 9 again. I’m not supposed to be here.” She spoke, fear filling the sound of her young voice.\n\nMy heart dropped. Of course God did this. I asked to be given another chance, & he played a big joke. Nice one God.\n\nI stared at her for a moment, watching her grow more distressed by the second.\n\n“I know Maxy. I prayed for this to happen. I’m supposed to be 20 now, but i asked God to give me another chance.” she jerked her hand out of mine & took a step back.\n\n“You did what.” she spoke, anger filling her 9 year old voice.\n\n“I asked God to give me another chance to save you.” i said, grabbing her hand again, the movement feeling so natural, but strange in the hand of a 9 year old. I reached my other hand up to softly swipe my palm along her cheek. “I should have saved you, & you never should have left. My life was never complete after you were gone, & now i have another chance.”\n\nA tear slipped out from the corner of her eye & my hand instinctively went to wipe it away. I could see my classmates out of the corner of my eye, watching in confusion at how two of their classmates were doing things that they had only seen their parents do before.\n\nShe leaned into my hand & closed her eyes before opening them again to focus in on mine.\n\n“I’m angry i’ve been taken out of my life, & all of my experiences washed away, but i had a hole in my heart after i left too. This time i know you’ll save me. I can’t go through it again.”\n\nI nodded my tiny head, my long curly black hair falling over my eyes.\n\nI let out a short laugh. “I should’ve saved you then, but i promise to save you now. God let this happen because he knew it was supposed to be this way. Trust me, okay?”\n\nIn return, Max nodded her head back, her long blonde curls bobbing on her back. I knew at this point that the teachers standing at the edge of the yard must have seen us by now, our classmates, although retaining at least a 50 foot space around us had gathered into a wall. She must have known that something serious was happening.\n\nI leaned in slowly, pressing my 9 year old lips against hers, in a movement that was familiar but at the same time foreign. & she kissed me back before pulling away.\n\n“I know that we’re technically adults, but i don’t think that our actual 9 year old friends or the teachers would much appreciate watching two kids kiss.” she said, a smile touching her lips as a last tear fell from the corner of her eye.\n\nI let a grin grace over my mouth before wiping away the tear again.\n\n“I don’t care. I’m yours forever Maxy.” i spoke, my voice barely a whisper.\n\nShe looked down as a blush touched her cheeks. “And i’m yours.” she finished.\n\nAs we stepped apart, i let my hand fall from her face, but tightened my small hands grip on hers, and in return she squeezed mine a little.\n\nWe walked towards the large silent group of kids that had surrounded us, & they all parted without a word. God had given me this gift & i was going to make sure neither he, nor she, would ever regret it.\n\nedit: messed up the ages & a couple words" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: That annoying kid.. spying from mirrors, laughing at my imperfect world. I call him with a gesture. \"Want to see something actually interesting?\" I start drawing gateway symbols on the mirror and he cluelessly copies them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Spirits and souls can be trapped within mirrors. So it was with me. I had been in here so long, I had forgotten my name. My family, my home. My language. But I remembered my magic.\n\nI found it odd that I could see the \"mirror\" from my side. I suppose that was how it was, to be trapped in a box- just because the lid is closed, doesn't mean it doesn't exist.\n\nI built a world for myself within the mirror. A world of shadows and darkness, trapped beyond light. Over the Ages, new spirits and souls would be trapped within the mirror, and they gave me a new name- they named me \"King\". With time, and effort, we built ourselves a Kingdom. They gave me a home.\n\nI would tell them about how they came to be here. Counceled them in their grief and loss. I couldn't tell them the whole truth, but I would say what was appropriate. That there was a gate, a \"Veil\" between the living and the dead. And that somehow, we crossed over in a way we shouldn't have been able to. I told them that there was a Veil here, too, but I forbade them to go near. It would only drive them mad.\n\nBut I would go. On certain days the Veil would thin, and I could nearly see out. Out, into the light. And it was far better than I could even remember. These small moments were hope. They were joy.\n\nOne quiet afternoon, it all changed. The Veil became perfectly clear for me, and on the other side- a child. He poked the glass of the mirror, and laughed. I yelled. This was my Kingdom- how dare this child mock it! How could it mock me, the King! The child laughed louder, and longer still. I stormed off.\n\nWeeks passed like this. I prayed for the Veil to return, but it never did. Still, the child mocked, and chided, and laughed. I could almost imagine a voice for it now. A vicious, obnoxiously high pitched squeal.\n\nThe child tormented me. My subjects- my friends and neighbors took note of my declining health, my sudden exhaustion. The child tormented me. I could not eat, I could not sleep, still the child torments.\n\nIn the following months, it became a Ritual. I would go out, the child would laugh and mock, I would return. The child was a trickster, a cheat. It wanted what I had worked so hard to attain- my kingdom, my home. It hoped to drive me mad. To destroy by my own hand what I held most dear.\n\nBut I was beginning to hatch a plan. Mirrors can entrap spirits and souls. So it was with me and mine, and soon... So very soon, so it would be for the child.\n\nI remembered a Spell, specifically to trap children in mirrors. Modified, it should release us... And replace us with the child. It will be here alone, as I was for so long. It will suffer here, in the dark and the quiet, alone.\n\nI called my people, ready to enact the plan. It would be our Exodus, and I would be our Moses. Glee filled my spirit when I recounted the plan. They would not know about the child. They wouldn't need to. The child would be my secret.\n\nAnd so, we went to meet the child on that day. The child laughed as always, only moreso- seemingly far happier to have more entertainers now than ever before.\n\nI did a jig, and the child followed suite. I mimed song, and the child followed suite. I rapped on the mirror, and the child followed suite. So too would it follow when I began to draw on the mirror.\n\nSigils of power and magic, words to weave the Veil, to dispel the mist. I pressed my flesh against the glass and felt it give beneath my weight.\n\nThe child couldn't see my world for what it was... He could only see the reflection of his own work in the mirror. But when I touched it, the glass became like liquid, and the mirror reflected no more. Instead, the child saw my world of dark and of shadows. It saw me, and what me and my people.had become.\n\nWhen I broke through, I saw myself for what I was, for the first time since before I could remember. My flesh wmhad been woven with darkness, and my fingers curled into claws. Before the Veil I was myself, but after... The mirror showed me the truth.\n\nThe child had stopped laughing. I know not when. But his cheer had become fear, disgust, and horror. I called out to my people- at this point, the magic could easily be broken. They reached into me, and I reached into the child." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: While organizing your childhood keepsakes you find a peculiar looking paper. Upon reading it you realize it's a deal with the devil. He got your soul, but you can't make out what you got as your penmanship was horrendous as a child." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I see that you found it.”\n\nThe voice came from nowhere.\n\nI was still clutching the paper when I turned toward the door and saw the shadow standing there.\n\nWords failed me as the strange ethereal creature stepped closer and solidified into a well dressed man in his mid 40s.\n\n“What is this?” I asked.\n\n“You surely remember?” He jested.\n\nHe allowed me to sit down and examine the note a bit longer and still I felt puzzled.\n\n“Why.. would I do this?” I whispered softly.\n\n“Ah... I see the problem,” he remarked as he saw the bad scribbles and added, “Comes with the territory actually. Most people don’t even realize I do this a lot with children.”\n\nI found myself visibly shaking.\n\n“You... you do?”\n\n“Of course, why do you think there is so much crime. Why do you think the world is in the mess it’s in?” He countered.\n\n“You’re a monster,” I said.\n\n“Maybe so, but my deals are fair. I make sure each and every individual can understand the full price before signing the dotted line,” he said.\n\n“How can you even say that’s reasonable when I was a child? No one can remember their childhood,” I argued.\n\n“That.. my friend is the deal,” he explained.\n\n“What...?”\n\n“I didn’t stutter. It’s the same deal, and I offer it to everyone. No one has ever refused. No one has even considered it,” he said.\n\n“You.. take away our memories as infants? But... but why?” I asked.\n\n“Listen... I don’t normally do this. But see, that piece of paper right there. Most parents get rid of it before you are of age to understand. But these are extraordinary circumstances,” he paused as he took it from me.\n\n“I change the deal right now. Scratch it out. You can have your memories back, fair and square if you want,” he said.\n\n“Just like that?” I asked.\n\n“It’s only fair, in fact I think it would be interesting to see what you think of the experience,” he responded with a shrug.\n\nI thought it over for a second and then shook his hand. He smiled and tore up the contract before disappearing in a puff of smoke.\n\nI sat there a moment and waited and then felt something inside my cerebral cortex. It was like a door was being unlocked.\n\nFlashes of memories flooded into my subconscious. I watched as I saw my first steps as a baby, chewing peacefully on toys. Then the memories went further back to where I couldn’t even hold my head up. I could feel every bump or bruise I made as a child all over again.\n\nIt didn’t stop there. I saw my mother giving me her breast milk and I felt so strange seeing her naked form. Then I was in the hospital.\n\nThe doctors were cutting my umbilical cord. I felt a rush of pain like nothing I had ever felt before as I realized I was experiencing my own birth.\n\nBeing pushed back inside my mother’s womb, watching as the world caved into darkness. Then my organs began to disappear one by one before the time I was even a single cell. I was losing everything and feeling everything at the same time.\n\nThen the moment came of my conception and I fell backward on the bed trying to push the memory away. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop seeing the image of my naked parents flash before my eyes as they engaged in sex.\n\n“Make it stop!! Please make it stop!!” I shouted.\n\nThe creature I spoke with just a moment ago reappeared with a new contract for me to sign. This one was permanent and binding.\n\nI didn’t hesitate for a moment to sign it and felt a calmness as I sat there. But then I realized the memories hadn’t faded away.\n\n“Why can’t I get them to go away anymore?” I asked as tears filled my eyes.\n\n“Sorry, it only works one way I guess,” he admitted as he realized the new contract was invalid and added, “Looks like I can’t help you anymore.”\n\nI sat there sobbing on the bed for a long time, wishing I had never entered this room. Wishing I had never changed the deal.\n\nTo anyone else out there I give this warning, be thankful for the deal you made. And heed this story or wind up with the same horrifying memories as I do." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: The Captain has called for an emergency crew meeting, and begins a video presentation titled \"So you gave bored humans tools? A guide to dealing with the consequences\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Captain, a 7” tall Xenatian, with their 3 legs and 3 arms looked pissed. ”I dont care who of you it was this time, but we all have to go through this brief again and deal with the consequences.” sighed the Captain through their vocal producers.\n\nThey all knew the drill, except the young ensign on their first mission. Everyone except them knew, that humans shouldn’t be given tools - even the basic plasmawrenches weren’t allowed.\n\nThough they didn’t make too much fuss about who had made the mistake, they had all made the same mistakes at one point in their careers. And learned the hard way the consequences of giving tools to humans.\n\n“First order of business…what happened?”, asked the Captain.\n\n“Well..it seems there was a small containment leak in the propulsion system. And Delta group was ordered to look into it”, answered Lieutenant Zorbin - an ant-like Creblian. He was in charge of the engineering crews. And he had chosen Delta group to take the human with them. Their instructions were very strict - humans could ONLY observe, not help with anything.\n\n“….and?” Asked captain.\n\n“Well, it seems that the leak wasn’t that big but it was in a fairly tight spot, so the human volunteered to help. Afterall they are fairly small and slim in built and their skeletal structure is inside their bodies. So - apparently the crew gave them a tool bag and let them go check the leak”. continued the Creblian.\n\nShaking his head, the captain said: “I thought we’d avoid this mess this time but I guess it’s inevitable that something like this happens everytime humans get onboard.”\n\nIt’s not that humans had bad intentions nor that they actively tried to make things go “bad”. But by nature - if you pit a big red button on the console and slapped a big red sign stating: “Danger! Do not press”. A human definitely would press it - out of curiosity.\n\nThe ensign raised their hand shaking: “But..but Ca-Captain. The human did fix the leak, right. “\n\n“Yes, that is not the issue”, they answered.\n\nCaptain continued: “The problem is, that once they had fixed the leak, they decided to do a little ‘systems check’ and optimise some processes at the same time. To quote the human ‘just wanted to make sure everything was running smoothly’”.\n\nThe head of flight crew, a Helenian Mortzan intervened: “But this time the result was pretty amazing right? We can’t wait to give it further tests”.\n\n“Nope, nope, nooope. If it was up to me, I’d just cover this whole thing up. Unfortunately, probably half of the galaxy saw the little joy ride we just had” said the Captain.\n\nIt turned out, by tweaking the engines - the human had accidentally figured out how to achieve FTL. It was a great engineering feat in itself and would probably change the future of the galaxy.\n\nCaptain was happy and excited about the possibilities it will bring with it. But what he was frustrated about was the bureaucracy that entails when humans invented something by jerry rigging stuff together, that changed laws of interstellar travel - let alone laws of physics.\n\nThe whole crew would be now quarantined and questioned atleast for a month before they were allowed to resume their duties. And the captain had mountains of paper work to do.\n\nHumans were one of those species in the universe who didn’t really understand the word impossible. And since their introduction to the galaxy they had helped invent a lot of new stuff. They were the most innovative species in the galaxy, it was just that others usually had to deal with the bureaucracy afterwards." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: See that over there? That's a dragon... I dare you to punch it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dragons don't care much for humans, but if you get their attention, they will at least give you time to convince them not to eat you. Derrick didn't understand that.\n\nWe were sitting around, having a few beers after a long day of guarding the castle. We were in a secluded cafe, just outside the walls and sitting in the patio. I had just taken a draw on my beer when I looked up. A dragon had landed in the field between us and the wooded area.\n\nIt was rather small in terms of dragons, barely 12 feet at the shoulder while standing on it's rear haunches. \"Oh, look. A dragon.\"\n\nDerrick looked up and saw the creature. \"Not much of one,\" he said.\n\n\"Still, I'd rather not tangle with it.\"\n\n\"What can something that small do to you. I bet it'd run scarred if you walked over and punched it.\"\n\nI must have been feeling the beer, because I immediately stood up and said, \"All right. You buy the next round. I'll be back in a moment.\"\n\nI tried to swagger over to the creature, but my swagger was more of a stagger. I approached it, but it seemed to be ignoring me. I drew back, and, with all of my might, struck the dragon's chest. The creature looked down at me, and spoke.\n\n\"I really wasn't planning on eating right now, but you'd make a nice snack. Why did you just strike me?\"\n\nIn my beer fuddled fog, it dawned on me it was brown trouser time. I thought fast. \"It's the only way I could think of to get your attention. You see, my friend over there is springing for drinks tonight, and he said he'd like to share some brewskis with a dragon. You showed up, and I knew it was fate.\"\n\n\"Cerveza gratis? What a quaint idea. I'll join you fellows.\"\n\nDerrick learned that night to never provoke a comrade, no matter how drunk they are, into danger. His money dwindled away to nothing by the second round, for, while we drank tankards, the dragon drank the beer by the keg. Derrick finally convinced the inn keeper to extend him credit by saying an angry dragon would likely destroy the inn, but the beer would pacify it.\n\nAs we sat and talked, the dragon said his name was Phil, and spoke of how he really hadn't wanted to eat humans: He preferred the taste of beef or venison. He had a faraway look in his eye when he mentioned noshing on a great white shark some time earlier.\n\nWe actually had a rather good time. Dragons have the same types of problems as humans: nagging wives, unruly children, and such. And then knights come along and try to slay them. Only thing they can do is cook them in their armor, but who likes Spam in a can.\n\nAs he readied to leave, we all shook hands, with Phil saying he enjoyed himself and that, the next time, it would be his treat. He lifted his wings, crouched low, leapt into the air and flew off.\n\nDerrick appeared for work the next day with a large lump on his head thanks to his wife, who chewed him out for spending their money on getting drunk. His lunch was cold, toe nail clipping soup.\n\nAs for me, I told the missus about it and so now, we make sure to sock away a two gold pieces every pay, because, while Phil is paying for the next round, my turn will be the following one." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: An alien ship warps into Earth orbit. The crew is confused, and after a polite first contact they leave without a fuss. The next day, another ship warps in. And another. And another. For some reason, the alien ships must pass by Earth first before warping to where they want to be." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were revered as Gods, those humans. Legends passed down through generations told of how they valued justice and morality more than anything. When they had first come to space, what little species that had made it there was supported lovingly by the humans. They excelled in cooperation and diplomacy, and showed a level of compassion for others never seen before. The humans thought violence was unnecessary and fruitless. Violence bred violence, they would say. Thus, when the Meedians became a space-faring kind, what with their worship to Gods in blood and body count, it was no shock that they had become the target of the kind and fair humans.\n\nThe humans, sensing the unease across the universe, had offered their lives for the cause against this abominable species. The humans hated violence yes, but they were willing to fight in the stead of those who were fearful and unsure. My ancestors had feared that the humans would fail. That they would crumple like paper under the blades of the Meedians. Oh, how wrong they had been.\n\nThe humans had been merciless in their slaughter. Corpses littered the plane of every battlefield between the Meedians and the humans, most of which belonged to the first. Though the humans never dared touch the Meedian children, the adults had paid for their mercilessness in bones and blood. The children, traumatized for life, were given back to the Meedian community as a warning and a chance to raise the next generation without war if they threw away their ways. Things stayed this way for a considerable amount of time: a battle between humans and Meedians, Meedians suffering terrible adult losses, and their orphaned children being given back. Things escalated, however, when Meedian ships snuck past the border of human space territory and went full-force against civilian human settlements.\n\nThey believed, that this would pacify the humans into cooperating with them. That, if they took women and children hostage, they could bargain the war with their lives. That was their mistake. Though the humans were fighting a war for the sake of galactic peace, not much was known of the mysterious race. Through the Meedians' lapse of judgement, the universe had found out in the most sadistic way possible that the humans would throw away all logic and intelligence for the sake of their wives and young.\n\nInstead of battling the armed Meedian ships, the humans went straight for their settlements openly, or through breaching defenses quietly. They would spread plagues in the densest communities, and would watch it spread like mold across the colonies' surface. Some humans preferred taking leaders captive, and torturing them on live video feeds directed towards the Meedian leaders' colonies. Others set fire to forests and large farms, and would sit back, watching the settlement descend into madness. The Meedians pleaded mercy to the humans. They kissed their feet and promised to worship them as Gods till the end of time. But, the Meedians had played unfair first. This was simply retaliation for their losses, tripled twice over.\n\nNot long after, the galaxy was quickly wiped clean of the plague that was the Meedians. And, on a whim driven by mercy, pushed the most war-mongering species of the universe to a small corner of this existence, on a small planet barely habitable enough to sustain life. Truly, they had rid the universe of this disease. In the process however, they had lost what made them truly human: logical justice and a drive for equality. The galaxy mourned the loss of its savior. The humans went back to their home planet to mourn the loss of their wives and young.\n\nMany eons had passed since then. The humans never went back to space after the war. Their society degraded back to savages, and it had had a difficult time repairing what was once the pride of the universe. The humans were revered as Gods. Gods of war, justice, logic, and loyalty to family and home. Which is why, when another blood-seeking species had risen in place of the Meedians, our multigalactic army decided to pay a visit to these Gods, in a show of respect and adoration. Even if they no longer know of what they did in the past, we will continue to watch over the descendants of our saviors, till they are ready once more to meet us in the stars." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: Humans aren't the first intelligent species in the galaxy, but they are the first to look for the others." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We had always wondered why we were alone.\n\nWe had our theories of course. Predator civilizations, filter events, life simply being more rare than we thought. We never expected the reality, had never predicted it. The truth is, we projected our own thoughts, our own culture onto any potential civilization out there.\n\nThe space race hit fast and hard. Reusable rockets brought the cost per pound to under $100 dollars, and the arrivals of the first asteroids into earth orbit only served to solidify the worldwide sentiment. Space or bust. It's amazing we didn't blow each other up in the race for the stars. We sure got close more than once. But by the time the mars colonies reached a million inhabitants, things were more or less stable. The AI's locked in their impenetrable boxes, worked out the math for efficient antimatter collection and the first colony ships were sent out to the nearby systems that showed the greatest promise. Two decades later, the computronium in close orbit around the sun cracked low-velocity FTL, and the next set of ships greeted their neighbors to much surprise.\n\nIt took 8 more years until we found the first civilization. The system we had named Shedir. The planet, within the outer edge of the habitable zone, almost went undetected. Spectrometry however showed abnormal amounts of hydrocarbons on the snow covered planet. Atmospheric crafts confirmed our suspicions. Nuclear War, and beneath the snow, buildings similar to our own in the 20th century. It didnt help that the civilization was bipedal. As the bubble of our reach grew exponentially, more planets were found. Some merely held animal life, a small fraction of those, civilizations, all of them dead. Some for millions of years, the only evidence of their reign visible through the trace amounts of industrial gases they left behind. Some it seemed however, we had just missed by centuries. Those were the hardest ones to see.\n\nAnd then we found one. The ship was on the smaller end. A fast craft with an oversized FTL drive and sophisticated scanning technology. The crew of two dropped out of warp into a system with 11 planets, and preliminaries showed several artificial objects littered throughout the system. Masking themselves, the ship entered the orbit of the inner planet, and truly gorgeous at that. The planet had once been natural, but there was not little sign of that, and it's surface was instead replaced with one vast blanket of grey and white. A planepolis, spanning from ocean to ocean. Within a year, we had deconstructed their language from radio waves, and it was only then, that we found out how unique we were. The planet below, for all intents and purposes, was a Utopia. Unlimited food, virtual reality, and a collective government had created an eternal paradise. The inhabitants below had reached the point of eradicating suffering. And they were content to stop.\n\nIt was only then that the Fermi Paradox was solved. Humankind had something unique. We never stopped, we were never content, and we always wanted more. The genes for selfishness that had so irreparably ingrained themselves in our genetic code had turned out to be our greatest strength, and our power over all other civilizations we came across.\n\nUntil the outsiders." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Instead of launching air strikes, The US government decide to send one of their ultimate secret weapons to fight against the ISIS terror - the Navy SEALS Copypasta guy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The team was back together for the first time since that catastrophe in Donetsk and, now more than ever, Arturo was wary: the command (in their infinite wisdom) had brought back the man who had nearly gotten the whole clandestine unit killed last time, Chris.\n\nThe official reports of the incident said that someone had gone off and opened fire, beginning the biggest shit-fest of a shoot-out Arturo had ever seen in his 17 years as an operator with the Navy. But Arty (as his boys called him) knew exactly who'd opened that can of worms. They all did.\n\nChris was part of a new generation of operators, and Arty wanted often wondered how the hell these kids functioned outside of the service. All they cared about was their image and everyone thinking they were hard. Never let a slight slip, never skip a chance to show off, never shut their fricking mouths. Egos had always been a problem, but Arty felt like this new trend was different. Looking at Chris in theater, it was almost as if he reveled in the violence and fear he could wreak on the targets they were sent after. Every operator has to have a certain appetite for violence, but this was on a whole new level. If someone didn't fear him, Chris would go out of his way to change that- even when they weren't the enemy. He was a danger to himself and everyone in his unit.\n\nBut Command had made the decision, so Arturo said \"Sir, yes, Sir\" and went about his job. He prided himself on being able to handle anything that was thrown his way, whether by a foreign force or by his own bosses. He was a consummate professional, after all. He had briefed the team in the air on the way across the Atlantic. Yes, they were going back to the sandbox. No, this wasn't a full invasion. Yes, they were operating under an information black out. No, there was not a set pull-out date. His answer to the final question was met with a wall of expressions ranging from vacuous to loathing. Chris greeted the news with what could almost be called glee.\n\nThey airdropped into what the jumpmaster had called a 'secured nonoccupied zone.' To Arty, it was just another stretch of worthless sand in a whole region of worthless sand. Why Command cared about such a desolate area (or why there was anyone here at all) was beyond him. Moving quickly in the night, the team set up their mobile command center. Chris was in charge of setting up comms with their contact- a mole on the inside of this particular group of crazies, ISIS, or whatever they called themselves today. Arty was concerned about having an obvious sociopath be their only point of contact with such a vital resource, but as long as Chris kept his temper and didn't scare off the already spooked mole, they would be fine. As he was turning on laptops and extending antennae, Arty went over to help the main part of the team sanitize their landing area.\n\nComms came on-line quickly, before the team even finished destroying and burying all the jump gear. Chris was already talking to the mole when Arty came over. Chris was communicating with the source via IM, but was using some sort of speech-to text headset to write. Apparently, simply typing wasn't tactical enough for him. Arty sat in on the conversation: Chris was trying to wrangle an exact location of some camp or another out of the mole, but was having difficulty. The speech to text function was not as functional as he had believed and when combined with a non-native English speaker on the other end of the line, it rendered the entire conversation an exercise in futility. Arty could see Chris getting worked up into that brutish blood rage he would fall into whenever someone bumped into him, looked at him funny, or generally irked him at all. He needed to be removed from the situation, quickly.\n\nBefore Arty could say anything, a single line of seven poorly chosen words appeared on the screen: \"Could I please speak with a non-idiot?\"\n\nArty never saw the line, but he did see Chris. That gorilla part of his brain that had been beating the drum of outraged frustration for the entire maddening conversation finally broke through. Chris was in a full-on blood rage. He screamed into the headset. \"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY ABOUT ME, YOU LITTLE BITCH? ..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Demons rely on fear as it empowers them, the more fear it spreads the stronger it becomes. During a demonic possession no priest has been able to defeat the demon as it's power has grown. Finally Gordon Ramsay has been called in and he's not impressed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There is a knock on the door. Linda walks slowly to answer it. Each step is uncertain, and she keeps debating whether she run away when she opens the door or stay with the house.\n\n\"Open the door you nitwit. I can hear you walking. What are you a fucking sloth,\" the voice yells. Linda runs over and opens to the man called in to defeat the demon.\n\n\"Sorry, for calling you a nitwit,\" Gordon says as he brushes past her, \"I have to rehearse the character before my arrival.\"\n\nHe takes off his coat and hangs it on a nearby coat tree. Linda stands in place and looks at him, shivering. Gordon turns around and sees nothing.\n\n\"What are you shivering for? Is it colder where you are,\" he barks.\n\nShe turns her head.\n\n\"No sir, the demon has on edge. No priest could stop him. All they could do is contain him and wait for you,\" she says.\n\n\"Yes, cowardly lot. They get scared by a demon turning their fucking heads. What is next? Are they going to be scared of an owl? I don't normally do exorcisms, but this priest was a friend of mine. He went to culinary school before he joined the clergy. Good thing too; terrible chef.\" Gordon says.\n\nLinda backs away from Gordon. Gordon feels a bang on his head. The coat hanger floats in the air behind him.\n\n\"Bloody hell, what did you do that for? You hit me.\" he yells.\n\nThe coat tree continues to float.\n\n\"Well don't just stand there. Do something you disgraceful oak tree,\" he says.\n\nThe coats start to fly off the tree and hit Gordon.\n\n\"Oh, look at you; you are throwing coats. What are you a toddler?\" Gordon says, and he looks at Linda, \"Where is the demon?\"\n\nLinda points upstairs at a room with a cross on the door. A red glow emanates from the cracks. There is a salt crescent circle in front of the door. Gordon marches upstairs to face the demon.\n\nHe walks into the room to see a small body on the ceiling. Six horns have grown out of his neck. Two more eyes have spouted above his human eyes that glow red. His hair has been replaced by worms crawling in out of holes on his scull. The boy is shirtless, and his torso is half covered in scales. The other half is leaking puss. The boy falls from the ceiling, lands on his feet, and roars.\n\n\"Look at you. Look at the mess you made,\" Gordon says while closing the door.\n\n\"This is almost as bad as the time I ate at Taco Bell. That producer was promptly fired,\" Gordon says.\n\nThe demon roars again moving closer to Gordon's face.\n\n\"Oh, god, your breath is fucking ratchet. Take a fucking mint. For all of our sakes,\" Gordon says.\n\nThe demon moves away and starts giggling.\n\n\"You are going to die, and your soul will be mine forever,\" he cackles.\n\n\"Right, well, I guess that is better than my current position where my soul is co-owned by Disney and ITV,\" Gordon says.\n\nThe demon throws up all over Gordon.\n\n\"Oh, bloody hell, demon bile. Really, that is all you got. I have seen worse on Kitchen Nightmares. You could've had food poisoning.\" Gordon says.\n\nThe horns in his neck start to retract, and the puss slowly starts to fall off of the boy. The demon for a brief moment looks nervous, but the nervous look is replaced by determination as he lunges towards Gordon. Gordon merely steps off to the side.\n\n\"Oh, now you are attacking me. Come on now you idiot. I have seen this before. Half of the MasterChef contestants have attacked me,\" he says.\n\nThe demon tries to claw at Gordon several times. Each time, he misses drastically. The worms are replaced by hair. The scales fall of his body. The glowing red eyes in his forehead remain. Gordon pulls out two slices of bread and holds it to the demon's face.\n\n\"What are you?!\" he yells.\n\n\"An idiot sandwich,\" the demon sighs in defeat.\n\n\"Idiot sandwich what?!\" Gordon says.\n\n\"An idiot sandwich, Chef Ramsey,\" a cloud of red smoke exits the boy's body. The boy looks around the room and starts to cry. Gordon hugs the boy.\n\n\"It is okay,\" Gordon comforts the boy, but he keeps crying, \"What is your name?\"\n\n\"William,\" the boy cries.\n\n\"Don't worry, William. That demon is not going to hurt you anymore. Come with me. I will make you your favorite food,\" Gordon says. He takes William's hand and walks him outside. Linda is waiting downstairs.\n\n\"Oh, good, you freed my son. Thank you,\" she says.\n\n\"It wasn't too big of a deal. Just a minor demon, nothing to worry about,\" he says.\n\n\"Oh, that was the waiter demon,\" William says.\n\n\"Waiter demon?\" Gordon asks.\n\n\"Yeah, he serves the head demon. The head demon had to go to the bathroom before you came in,\" William says.\n\nA flush comes out of the boy's room. Gordon turns in fear. A man walks out of the toilet. He looks at Gordon and smiles.\n\n\"No,\" Gordon says. For the first time in the night, Gordon is afraid.\n\n\"Welcome to Flavortown,\" Guy Fieri says. His eyes glow red and his goatee-soul patch-thing shakes like a millipede." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Aliens abduct you along with another random human, the intention being to make you reproduce. Unfortunately, you're both guys." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At first I thought I was dreaming. Outside, walking my dog, minding my own business until the spotlight hit me. I really thought it was a flashback to my days in drama class, but I suppose that would be more of a nightmare. Anyways, when I started to rise up - and leave Spot behind, I didn’t want to choke the poor guy - I realised I was being abducted!\n\nI had always heard about it in movies but I never thought it would be me! To be completely honest I was a little underwhelmed when I got inside. I guess you really don’t know what to expect when you find yourself in an alien craft but everything just seemed very normal. There was a miniature table, some small cupboards, a stove, a few pictures of humans on the walls and what looked like a tv screen.\n\nThe aliens themselves were small furry critters, nothing like those little green men with the big eyes. Quite a friendly bunch actually. I was shocked when the closest little guy spoke in plain english.\n\n“Hello, would you drink tea.” He chirped, holding up a cup of steaming tea. I figured it was a question - seems their translation skills weren’t as advanced as I would have thought.\n\n“Yes please.” I said grabbing the cup “Do you have any milk or sugar?”\n\nThe little guy looked around at his friends, apparently confused, I guess they hadn’t picked up that aspect of the tea drinking culture. Taking another look around the room I eyed a man in the corner, holding his tea, looking around as though he was at a party with no one he knew.\n\n“Hi there!” I said, holding up my cup of tea in his direction “Looks like these fellows picked you up as well. Do you know why they’ve chosen us?”\n\nHe managed a slight smile and a nod, a rather shy fellow this one. Perhaps he’s a bit thrown off by being in an alien capsule I suppose.\n\n“We want to procreate!” The small creature squeaked out, moving towards me.\n\nI nearly spit out my coffee - things seemed to be taking a turn. I glanced at my earthling friend who was slowly backing into the corner, mouth agape.\n\n“Um, I’m afraid we can’t procreate, you see we are both the same gender. We would need a woman, nine months and probably some alcohol to really get anywhere.” I said, forcing a laugh and while glancing around for a possible escape route.\n\nThis seemed to aggravate the little, and seemingly more aggressive aliens, who started chatting quickly in squeaks and chirps. They seemed to come to a conclusion and picked up some sort of device, a blank slate of glass.\n\n“We don’t believe you!” The tallest creator said defiantly, walking towards me with the device outstretched. “Place your hand against the glass so we confirm.”\n\nFor a second I considered trying to fight my way out, we could probably taken out these little guys, but I didn’t know what technology they might have had available. My hand stretched out towards the device trembling, I glanced over at the man in the corner, hoping I would only have to imagine him with his clothes off.\n\nAs my hand touched the screen a red dot appeared underneath, sending the creatures into a state of great excitement and leading to an increase in my heart rate. What had I done?\n\n“You can procreate! I knew it.” The leader shouted, pushing the device towards my hand once more. “Procreate again!”\n\nI was more than happy to comply, grabbing the device and touching it again. Anything to postpone the inevitable. They continued to encourage me, I moved my hand along the glass and lines followed underneath. That was when I noticed the button on the bezel. Could it be?\n\nSure enough, I pushed the button and familiar apps popped up on the screen. I had been in some type of painting app called procreate. I had never been more happy to be holding an ipad in my life. After showing the aliens that the fur on their fingers was causing their trouble they sent me on my way. Spot hadn't seemed to have noticed my absence.\n\nI smiled as I walked home, excited to tell my wife, and wondering what was in store for that man in the corner." } ]