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[ { "from": "human", "value": "A time traveler goes from 2018 to 1980. Instead of using his knowledge for great gain or influence history, he writes a sitcom that scarily accurately predicts future events." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am a time traveller. I mostly did it for kicks, not fame or money, so I didn't go far back and get famous antiques. Or go forward in time and bring back advanced technology. Just to 1980.\nI wasn't too fond of 1980, but it only took a few years for me to put together a fake identity. I spent the rest of the time writing scripts. And, finally, I have persuaded a network to pick up my show. Hello future. My name is Matt Groening." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In 5 sentences, without using the letter \"a\", write a story about a man who has lost it all." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "None linger by his side but the bitter wind's empty murmur. Memories flickering by his mind's eye, he is reminded of his loss. The whole world seems to mock him, gibe him, twist him into comedy, surround him with sinister mirth. Soon enough the shrieks of vicious joy infest his very mind, consuming hope of rescue from his supreme torment, giving no shelter but simply joining in. So his misery wells up within him, woeful hysterics erupting from his very soul, echoing through this bitter new world." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A man is wrongly sentenced to death in Victorian England for supposedly killing a milk-maid, write a letter from him to his wife." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To my beloved wife,\n\nTomorrow morning I will be taken to be hanged without any regret and with a clean conscience but I write this last letter as a plea to you for forgiveness and understanding. Please take my word dear wife, as I did not invite that maid into our home and I did not nor would I ever commit the sin of adultry with her. She just appeared in the parlor and did not comply with my requests to leave. When you appeared in the doorway my dear and saw us struggling it was only me trying to force her out of our home. I hoped that by confessing for your crime I would prove to you my love and devotion yet you havent sent me any word since I've been locked in this tower. I wish that you forgive me for any offense that you think I have ever commited against you. Never in my live would I willingly or knowingly do anything I thought might bring you harm or that may upset you. I would like it very much if you were there tomorrow, in the square so that I may gaze upon your face during my last moments, it is my only and final request.\nYour beloved husband, who will keep loving you in the next world as he has in this one." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It's the year 2114. You're a history student. Your assignment? To write an essay comparing the events of 2014 with what happened 100 years earlier." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As a history student in the year 2114, I have been tasked with comparing the events of the year 2014 to what happened exactly 100 years prior, in the year 1914. Although these two years were separated by a century, they share some striking similarities and differences that have shaped the course of history in very different ways.\n\nOne of the most significant events of 2014 was the outbreak of the Ebola virus in West Africa, which quickly became an international health crisis. Similarly, in 1914, the world was facing a health crisis with the outbreak of the First World War, which affected millions of people worldwide. Both crises brought about significant changes in the way governments and societies responded to public health and international relations, highlighting the importance of cooperation and solidarity in times of crisis.\n\nAnother similarity between 1914 and 2014 was the rise of new technologies that transformed the way people lived and worked. In 1914, the world was experiencing the dawn of the industrial age, with new machines and technologies making their way into factories and homes. Similarly, in 2014, the world was experiencing the rise of the digital age, with new technologies like smartphones and social media transforming the way people communicated and connected with one another.\n\nHowever, there were also many differences between 1914 and 2014. One of the most significant differences was the level of globalization and interdependence between countries in 2014. By this time, the world was much more interconnected than it was a century earlier, with goods, services, and people moving across borders more freely than ever before. In contrast, in 1914, the world was more divided, with nations operating largely independently of one another.\n\nAnother major difference between 1914 and 2014 was the political landscape of the world. In 1914, Europe was dominated by a complex web of alliances and rivalries that would ultimately lead to the outbreak of World War I. In contrast, the world of 2014 was marked by greater cooperation and diplomacy between nations, with the United Nations and other international organizations playing a key role in promoting peace and stability.\n\nIn conclusion, while there were some similarities between 1914 and 2014, the world had undergone significant changes over the course of a century. The rise of new technologies, the growth of globalization, and the development of international institutions had all transformed the way people lived and interacted with one another. As a history student in 2114, I can only wonder what changes the world will have undergone by the next century and how they will shape the course of history." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "An immortal couple have been seen throughout recorded history, write an account of them in any time period you wish. Bonus points if you match the writing style of the time period" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was 1915 and we were in Belgium. I'd always wanted to visit Belgium, but not like this - not in these trenches. Here, but not now.\nBelieve it or not, living in stretching concaves in the Earth with no personal space breeds a special sort of relationship among the inhabitants. Funneled like rats - with rats - through these dark and sometimes cold trenches, morale was low. Except for one man.\nThat one man was named Richard, and he seemed weary - but he always had a positive outlook on his situation. Strange, considering death was almost certain in here - surely he knew that?\nI remember sitting with him and asking him about his life back home - he apparently had a wife, but he seemed so young for it. He asked me if I had a girl back home, I told him I didn't. He just seemed indifferent, aside from a brief flicker of a frown. He told me I'd find someone eventually.\nThe one thing he said that stuck with me was, when asked if he planned to grow old with his wife, he looked me in the eye and said with a serene smile \"I've already done that\".\nThere was something off with that man, but I had to admire his optimism.\nThat night he disappeared, we never found a body - but there was no way he'd leave. Unless he simply got out of the trenches and started walking. Surely he couldn't do that? Surely." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In the parallel world of spiders, instead of \"Spider-Man\" there is \"Man-Spider\": a spider in a human costume with human superpowers, such as a gun he caries around and the ability to talk. You are the spider chosen to write a screenplay for the movie." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I regret my choices.\nI should have just become a cobwebineer in stead of a screenwriter. But of course, with my luck they'd have come up with some completely absurd construction job for me to do.\nLike, at first I was one hundred percent on board with the \"Man-Spider\" concept. I mean, pure body horror, you could make some really, really scary shit out of that material.\nBut then came the instruction: \"Make it sexy\". *Sexy*? Have they seen humans? Only half the proper amount of limbs, the eyeball situation is just disturbing and those red, wet holes... masticating species, uggh!\nBut apparently this... specimen... is supposed to be the hero? We're never going to see him eat on screen, that's for sure.\nI guess I can work with the gun thing. Emphasize the technological ingenuity. There's probably some way to make this form of hunting seem cool in stead of a pathetic compensation for natural weakness. Maybe.\nAnd they want talking to play a central role. I can see why, given the man-spider thing, but how to do it without directing attention to that nasty face hole? Putting a mask on him might work - and it could cover the eyes. Mask it is!\nA mask would also help making the love interest story line a little more believable. I'm not writing any mating scenes! They'll just have to find another spider for that, I have my limits.\nAlthough, thank the Great Spinner that it's *man*-spider. Imagine if it was woman-spider. Those creatures are *mammals*. It really is the most disgusting reproductive biology imaginable. I wish they'd let me make a horror movie." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "I have a myth: Earth has no moon, instead it has a ring. There is ringlight every night year-round, and a ring shadow somewhere on Earth every day, which moves with the seasons. Re-write mythology." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Long before the days of the War of the Gods, Titans reigned over the face of the Earth. As with any rulers, there were some who ruled fairly and others who did not. Among the more benevolent leaders was Hyperion, the Lord of Light. He was called upon for wisdom and discernment; mortals valued his insight and praised his control of the heavenly bodies.\nYet Hyperion had one great love: Theia, his consort. She was a Titaness of radiance, a mother goddess who shone like the sun on all who sought after her. The two Titans were very much in love, and their love gave vibrancy to the life around them. They were happy - for a time.\nThat time ended when the Gods declared war on the Titans, with Zeus at the forefront of battle. Cronus, Hyperion's brother and Lord over all the Titans, called Hyperion into battle against the upstart Gods. Knowing the war would end in defeat, Hyperion left anyway, answering the call of his brother and king.\nBut before he left, Hyperion gave Theia a gift: a ring of radiant light to wear around her finger. He told her that the ring would tell her if he was safe; that the ring would glow with a silver light when he was in danger. Theia took it gratefully and bid her lover farewell. It was the last time she would see him.\nHyperion fell during the war and was banished with the other Titans to the pits of Tartarus. During the battle, Theia watched in helpless anguish as the ring shone brighter and brighter until it was nearly as luminous as the sun. In her despair, she removed the ring and prayed to the Mother Gaia that she would cause the ring to grow as large as her love for Hyperion. Gaia listened, and so the ring grew.\nNow the ring encircles the Earth, a strip of radiance that gives off silver moonlight every evening. Mankind looks up to the ring and is reminded of Theia's anguish, as well as her love for her fallen lover." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write a poem based of the story \"the strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They do not understand the genius that is required,\nTo create something quite so inspired,\nAs the wondrous concoction,\nthat i have created.\nSo I tinker and I work in secret,\nAs the formula is not complete yet,\nBut is ever so tempting,\nto take a little swig.\nScience was not advanced by caution,\nAnd though i may speak from exhaustion,\nI feel i must be brave,\nAnd see it to the end.\nIt burns with an unholy fury,\nas greats spasms run through me,\nmy very flesh screams,\nAnd i collapse to the floor.\nI am big man now,\nI will show them how,\nYou no laugh at me,\nno more.\nMy hands can crush,\nyour throat to shush,\nDon't call me Hyde,\nIts Jekyll." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a journalist. Everything you write becomes true. One day, not knowing this, you decide to write some satire." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I lean back in the comfortable chair and exhale the smoke of the cigarette. Grey clouds of smoke wander around in the room and for a moment I close my eyes. What a night: finally managed to finish the new book.\nIt was good to write something silly once in a while. Usually I pick a topic and research, write a book on it only to discover that things get even worse. Not this time!\nA parody, Satire, something funny.\nEven writing the damn thing was fun as hell, just take the strangest and most hilarious idea you have and make it the premise of the book.\nAnd here it was my take on the United States presidential election ..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write Martin Luther King's 'I Have a Dream' speech in the style of Doctor Seuss and then write 'The Sneetches' in the style of Martin Luther King" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I have a dream. My friends, it seems,\nThat all of us people are on the same team.\nMy children will grow, society will show,\nthat we won't pre-judge those we don't know.\nThe black and the white, aren't like day and night.\nAnd in this great nation, have no need to fight.\nHate can't conquer hate, love is more great,\ninto the darkest heart, light can penetrate.\nSo my child and yours, will swing open their doors,\nand love their neighbors, make peace and stop wars.\nIf we want it, we can. A brotherhood of man.\nI have a dream, of liberty in this land." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write a poem from the perspective of a dog" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hours,\npass like days,\nI wait here in silent desire,\naskew across my dark mistress' place of rest,\nas she walks the world without me.\nAlone.\nA roaring noise,\nto others it is a annoyance,\nas it escapes my hollow lips,\nbut inside?\nI am silent,\nFor she is not here." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "use all six of these words somewhere in your story or poem: fatigue, caper, typewriter, sword, calm, arrow" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frederick leaned back in his squeaky desk chair and stretched, feeling a full twenty hours' worth of fatigue. The stack of paper next to his typewriter - an old-fashioned one that was fully manual - was full of words. He was quite pleased with his story, and figured he would get some rest before sending it off to his publisher.\nTitled \"Caper Capers,\" his manuscript detailed the activities of an anthropomorphic onion that solved crimes in the medieval world. His sword, cape, and calm demeanor were iconic, as this book was the fifteenth in a series.\nFrederick stood, slowly, and hobbled to the refrigerator. He must remember to stop for food next time. As he reached for the handle, a soft thudding sound behind him caught his attention. He turned to find an arrow embedded in the drywall, having apparently come through the open kitchen window.\n\"What on earth!?\" he exclaimed, looking toward the window. The early morning light was still dim and nothing was immediately visible. He stepped over to the window, realizing too late, in his exhausted state, that it was probably a poor choice.\n\"Hey, Freddy!\" His friend Karl popped his head over the sill. \"Sorry about the arrow! I was just coming by to see if you wanted to join me for some archery, but you look shattered! Must've been a long night. Gimme my arrow and I'll get out of your hair!\"\nFrederick yanked the arrow from the wall, tossed it out to Karl and firmly closed the window before collapsing on the couch, too tired to even bother with the bedroom." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write a dark story but have the last sentence make it beautiful" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sammy didn't understand. Who would do such a thing?\nThe left eye of his best friend lay on the carpet floor in front of him. The shredded strands that once held it in place trailed behind, tattered and crimson.\nAll he could do was cry. He was the best friend anyone could want. A soul both soft and understanding. How could this happen? Sammy's mind was a mess of confusion and questions.\nHis mother entered the room, dragging the carcass.\n\"Now, now, Sammy. Everything going is to be okay.\"\nSammy spied something shiny and sharp in her hand.\nMommy smiled.\n\"Hand me his eye, sweetheart.\"\nSammy froze.\n\"We'll fix your teddy right up...together.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are about to pass away, write a letter for someone in your life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My dear [Name],\n\nAs I write this letter, I am filled with a mix of emotions - sadness, regret, and gratitude. Sadness that I will soon be leaving this world and will no longer be able to share in the joys and challenges of life with you. Regret that there are things I wish I had said and done differently, and that there are moments that I will miss. But most of all, gratitude that I have had the privilege of knowing you and sharing in your life.\n\nI want you to know that you have been one of the greatest blessings in my life. Your love, kindness, and support have sustained me through some of my darkest moments, and your laughter and joy have brought light and happiness to my life. I have cherished every moment we have spent together, and I will carry the memories of our time together with me always.\n\nAs I prepare to leave this world, I want you to know that I am at peace. I am grateful for the life I have lived and for the people I have met along the way. I am grateful for the love and friendship you have shown me, and for the many ways you have enriched my life.\n\nI know that my passing will bring sadness and grief, but I hope that in time, you will find comfort in the memories we shared and in the knowledge that I loved you deeply. Remember that life is precious and that every moment is a gift. Live fully, love deeply, and cherish the people in your life.\n\nWith love and gratitude,\n\n[Your Name]" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write me a story that doesn't include the word \"the\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Our ways were not hers and so she would carry on without us. No, in spite of us. Handing out advice wouldn't cut it. She'd need to experience a bloody nose or a skinned knee to learn her lessons. There were no skies limiting her, no obstacles to slow her foot. Sandy beaches with bright blue skies and feathery white clouds stretching out of view would be her providence. Awash in foamy surf she road waves smooth as glass and faster than speeding locomotives. And then, with her sun at set and darkness crowding in around, a broad smile fills her face. Her day is done and now it's time to take in an omnipotent panorama of celestial mechanics and a deep breath." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A man emerges from his Y2K bunker as he has run out of supplies. It is currently 2014 and write in first person his encounters." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The light was blinding.\nJason tried to make out any shapes as he squinted across the horizon, the lid of his bunker hunkered over him like a conical asian hat.\n\"Perhaps I am the lone survivor,\" he thought.\nWhat choice did he have? He ran out of the last of his baked beans yesterday. The Capri Suns stock had long gone and he just placed the last of his batteries into his walkman.\nOver 14 years in hiding since December 31, 1999. He was the laughing stock of his college as he spent day and night constructing his bunker next to the campus Fine Arts building. Jason couldn't help but feel a bit of complacency as he hoisted himself out of the bunker. His peers did nothing but jeer and ridicule him for his efforts to survive the apocalypse.\n\"Look whose laughing now,\" he mused.\nBased on his watch it was 4 in the afternoon. The campus was desolate. Not a single person in sight. All of a sudden he heard the ruffle of leaves.\nJason snapped his head around and screwed up his eyes over the horizon. It was a throng of people coming closer to him by the minute. He couldn't make out their faces. They were moving in a weird way too, sluggish and dragging their feet.\nThats when he started to hear them moan. Jason's heart skipped a beat. He threw open lid of his bunker and dived inside.\nThe moans grew louder. He peaked over his bunker as the crowd made its way toward him. Thats when he realized they weren't people at all. They had eyes that were sunken in and faces with skin that hung loose. Some of them had missing skin and tufts of missing hair.\nThe moaning was almost deafening now. The crowd looked-\n\"Dead.\" Jason thought. \"They are walking dead people! I'm the only living person left!\"\nHe closed the lid of his bunker. It looked like he was going to be inside longer than he thought.\n\n\"Amazing job today guys!\"\nEdward, the president of the Zombie Club, wiped the makeup off his brow and turned to address his members.\n\"I loved the moans and groans, and your costumes look fantastic!\" he exclaimed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You need to write a letter to your crush describing romantic things you'd want to do(stargazing, watching the northern lights) and romantic gestures you'd do for her/him and why you think you two are ideal for each other." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear [Name],\n\nYou're the most beautiful woman that I have ever set my eyes on. The stars themselves cannot compare to the light in your eyes. Aphrodite and Venus would bow down to your beauty and avert their eyes in shame at their inability to compare to you.\n\nYou're my first thought in the morning, and my last at night.\nI see you every night at the park, watching the night sky with your telescope. I like to watch the stars as well, even though they pale in comparison to you. We could go away together, visit a dark sky area to see the stars even better, away from the city lights that pollute the air and spoil your view. Just you, me, and a tent, miles away from anything that could distract us.\nOr we could go to see the northern lights. I heard you say that it's your dream to go see those. We could book into one of those hotels, the ones that are camping pods with clear roofs and alarms to wake you up when the lights start. How romantic would that be, just us and the aurora borealis.\nI would treat you like the queen, the goddess that you are. I'd worship the ground you walk on, defend you against any who dare disparage you, and make sure all know of your magnificence and glory. You would never need to work again, to sully your hands and looks with the drudgery of menial actions.\n[Name], [Name], [Name], your name is as beautiful as you are. I want to spend the rest of my life with it being the first word off my lips on waking and the last before sleep.\n\nLove,\n[Your Name]" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write a story and try to fit in as many plottwists as possible, but the twist is just something mundane." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The mission seemed doomed before it ever began…\nBut, “Never surrender…” kept repeating in Melbourne’s mind like a sick, twisted loop.\nJust then, he felt a tug at his ear. Melborne’s wife pulled out one of his ear bud’s that was admittedly blasting way too loudly. “That 80’s music again?”, she yelled.\nAnd just like that, a voice rang out from the other room.\n“They are coming in from all sides!”\nThere was no time for this. Melbourne had to drop the package at thirteen hundred hours. Just 15 minutes way.\nMelborne’s blood turned icy in his veins…”Kill them all. Every last one of them!”\n“Well sir”, said the Terminex man now arriving in the same room…”That’s what we plan to do.”\n“Good…good.”, he said.\n“Mellie”, his wife, Trudy, said while taking his hand.\nMelborne hated how loose his prosthesis had become in the past few weeks.\n“I need that darling…you know for the…”, at that, he looked that the serviceman, and returned his gaze to his wife…and finished the thought… “package”.\nJust then, the doorbell rang. Melborne’s wife…closest to the door, opened it to see who had arrived.\nAt 6’6, the man at the doorway was likely the largest human being that either Melbourne or his wife had ever seen. The two of them were now side by side, looking up at the man dressed all in all brown.\n“Would you like me to take that for you?”, he said with a curious smile.\nTrudy looked down at Melbourne’s hand that she was still holding. “Um...”\nAt that, the man with the letters U-P-S on his shirt looked to Melbourne and said “I mean the package ma’am…I can take that with me if you would like.”\nMellie turned the package over, nodded, and smiled at wife and sang \"you can never surrender!\"...and put his earbud back in." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write the ending. The person to reply to your comment must write the rest of the story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And then I saw with eyes clear and wide as the old man finished his story left and I will tell you now. Did you imagine the devil wore devil's skin?Perhaps you imagine his voice deep and sinister.But no,the devil was a softspoken and kind old man." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a positive story about someone/something from a child's perspective, then write negative story about that same person/subject from the perspective of the now grown up child." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My dad is the best! Mom only lets me visit him on the weekends, she said he's good for nothing, but she's wrong. He lets me play with his stuff all day long and when he gets home from work he brings home pizza! We watch movies, laugh and eat together on the couch, it's always a blast!\n---\n\"When are you going to get a real job? It's time you start paying rent if you're going to keep living here.\" It's the same argument every night. The nagging, the constant fighting, I can't take it anymore. This apartment is too small for both of us. \"When are you going to make something of your life? You're 54 and you've been a pizza boy for more than half your life. You can't live here anymore, I'm kicking you out, dad.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Make something harmless illegal, like apples, now write about the black market of said item." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When I was a little girl, I owned a Tamagotchi. Those little animals, pixelated freaks, harmless I thought. Until I learned that all artificial intelligence is dangerous. That giving human characteristics to pixels was dangerous. Or so they told me, when they took the blue one. My parents didn't know about the pink one, little lovely snake creature. I kept it alive. I kept it alive and it only grew stronger.\nSo here I am, the nuclear codes in my hands. Pink one beeping from around my neck, and a language only I can understand. This is what they didn't want, people with abilities they can't control. People able to speak to the intelligence, the artificial intelligence." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story where the characters in the story pretend they aren't aware they are in a story, for fear of being killed off by the writer" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jack's cubicle was outstanding, which was ironic considering it was the least personalised of all the cubicles on the floor of Redford & Jones. There were no family photos despite the fact that he was married with a newly born baby boy. There was a notable absence of inspirational quotes - the kind that reeked of desperation to those who partook in such futility.\nWhilst the rest of the employees punched away at their keyboards, Jack was keeping abreast of his latest Twitter feud; this time with a man who claimed that the Moon was nothing more than a hologram perpetuated by the US government to fool the global population that we do in fact live in a universe when the truth was we all live on a giant soundstage much like the Truman Show.\nJack wouldn't normally bother with such nonsense, but this was a golden opportunity for self preservation. He could hear his father's words echoing in the recesses of his mind.\n\"Keep your character benign. That's how you survive.\"\nJack had always thought fondly of his advice. Recently though, keeping benign was becoming increasingly difficult. He was thirty-three now. During your teens and twenties, one can easily slide under the radar. But now, he had a wife and kid. His impact on the story was becoming less and less covert.\nIf there's one thing Jack had learned is the more impact you have, the greater the odds of being killed off by...well...the writer. Although Jack would never refer to him as that. \"God\" was still the appropriate name. And if God could kill off his son at thirty-three, Jack new damn well, he better start making some moves in an effort to stay in the narrative." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "rewrite \"Hey Jude\" to make it sound like it was written by Shakespeare." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I say hello to the man called Jude\nAsking that he make happier notes from sad tunes\nOnce you let inside your love, notes happier hued\nAfraid not my dear man, for with the newer moons\nYou shall find your love, come into to happier places\nCarrying too much upon yourself, with so much weight\nLying to yourself will lead only to dark spaces\nYou have found your love, now take the bait\nAgain, you must allow her access inside your heart\nDo not play games of stop and go, it shall get better\nYour will and love are strong enough start\nSo come now Jude, you must go out and get her" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A man realizes he loves a woman, but she's getting married to another man. He decides to write her a letter, what does it say?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear [Name],\n\nI just wanted to say that you are one of the nicest, funniest, and empathetic persons in the world. Most importantly, you are my best friend and I am truly grateful to have met you. Anyways Moon of My Life, if you have anything you want to talk about, say if you are unsure about the marriage or whatever, I'm always here. Eric is a good man and a very lucky one. One cannot easily seduce the mother of dragons. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you're like a sister to me and you can count on me for anything.\nAlso, what flowers did you want for the wedding again? I'm pretty sure my shop can get them to you cheap, haha just kidding, I don't want to wake the dragon, they will be free. Just give me a text or something telling me what you want. Come to think of it, why didn't I just text this to you? Oh well, I've already written so much, sorry you'll have to read this on a piece of paper rather than on your phone.\nSincerely,\nYour Sun and Stars [Your Name]\nP.S. Our annual cream of ice adventure is tomorrow!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Create a Utopia. A society as perfect as you can convincingly write it. No hidden secret evil, no sudden dark twist. A Genuine Utopia." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jeremiah opened his eyes. His vision fell upon an unfamiliar ceiling. *Where am i?*, he thought. Jeremiah was not struck with a feeling of sleepiness or the desire to remain in bed when he awoke; he only felt neutral. *Oh, that's right,* he thought, *The upload happened last night.*\nHe pulled back his covers and examined his new room. The walls were made of a material he was not familiar with; hard and sturdy when leaned on, but pliable and soft when impacted with. In the corner, he found a desk with what looked like a laptop on it. He looked over his shoulder, only to find that the bed he had just slept on had been remade.\nHe picked up his phone from his bed stand. A message was scrawled across the screen: \"Good morning, citizens of Earth. You may be wondering where you are. Allow me to explain. Over the past few decades, Humanities Commonwealth has been building an infrastructure surrounding the sun to harness it's energy. Surely, you've heard about it in the news. Recently, scientists have found a way to upload a human soul to a server. This, on the other hand, has been kept top secret, up until now. The Commonwealth parliament had voted unanimously to usher in the latest step in human evolution. Overnight, all thirty billion human beings had been uploaded to the server. While humanity was still a stage-one civilization, this concept had been called the 'Matrioshka brain.'\n All existing humans no longer have to work. Currency is no longer necessary; anything you could ever want can be instantly spawned into the world just by thinking of it. Dying is no longer an issue; your soul will live forever in the server unless you make the conscious decision to erase your save file.\nEnjoy your new life!\n-Zorg, archduke of Humanities Commonwealth and cyborg prince.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a letter from the perspective of a character or group." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear brother,\n\nAnother futile attempt. The burns are healing, at least. Today I resume my journey, I have another lead. I've earned a fair amount of coin in my travels, expect some in my next letter. Save some for our cousins, you know how happy it makes W. The swelling in my knees has gone down, these mushrooms seem to help. The locals seem to have a special strain in these parts, I'll send some home to you if I can manage it. So far I've only been able to get my hands on what I can find laying around--the shop owners are a bit random and prefer gambling to negotiation. Imbeciles. Maybe if they could read they would send letters like this to each other and I'd know where to find the princess by now. Instead I'll have to check every place myself.\nWish me luck,\nM." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "We seem to have much morbid curiosity about the personification of Death in this sub. Instead, write about his brother, Life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We were equals, once.\nOur charges celebrated me, just as they feared my brother. They loved me, as they loathed him. We were two sides of the same coin.\nOver time, that changed.\nPeople feared him. He grew in power, grew in their minds. They forgot about me in their preoccupation with avoiding him. No one celebrated me anymore. They turned their backs on me.\nSo I turned my back on them.\nAs my brother gained more and more power, it became harder and harder for them to avoid him. He claimed more and more lives, which in turn increased his power even more. I could not make my presence felt; births were no longer celebrated. Birthdays became a way not to celebrate me, but to celebrate another year of dodging my brother.\nI should never have left.\nI'm afraid it's too late. In my haste, in my angst, I couldn't see the effect my absence would have. I'm not sure there's anything I can do now. I'm afraid he may have too strong a hold on the lives of the people, the lives that used to be under my protection. There's only one thing I can beg of you now. Remember me. It's our only hope to lessen my brother's hold on the world.\nCelebrate Life." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your writer roommate dropped his notebook in the hallway while leaving the apartment. You open it at the bookmark. It describes how your day unfolded, in detail. Continue writing with this prompt." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mr. Willow this is case sensitive, please keep good track of this information. The following letter is detailing the last account of Ralph Baker, the person who disappeared. Good luck, and the sooner you track down that nightshade book, the better.\n\nThis is Ralph Baker, I live on 22 S, Pennyweather street, by the tall solar mills. Quickly, before we get into things, mother I love you, and I’m afraid I’m going to miss Jim’s wedding. Congratulations.\nAnyways, I don’t have the time for that anymore. \nHere is my story.\nAt 6pm I got home from work. It could have been a little later then that though. Either way, I got back to find a small blue book laying in the hallway. It had golden trim and the initials M. T. On its bind. I thought it could have been Patrice’s, my flatmate.\nPatrice was a strange person, always slow to speak and move. She carried a book with her always, in fact I don’t think I’d ever seen her without one. So I thought the blue one with the nightshade cover was just another of her collection.\nI opened the cover though, just to read a bit at what the novel was about, but it was blank.\nSurprised, I flipped through the book and landed on page 136. This page was not blank I quickly realized. And my realization turned to utter horror.\nThe page in front of me detailed everything about me. My height, weight, average distance between each step at a walking pace. Everything was crammed in, written in margins and on corners. It was my whole life.\nIt was me.\nThe end of the page told me how I was supposed to die, and I’m afraid it might come tru-\n\nThis letter was found under Ralph’s bed, It ends abruptly, and without reason. Take care Mr. Willow." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In sixty words, write what can happen in a second." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He walked through the door, he smiled. I smiled, then immediately frowned. His mouth--just there, on the corner, is a touch of pink. Maybe red? Now the breeze he brought in just hit me--like spring flowers, which is odd for winter. Perfume! Not mine. That touch of pink, or red...not mine. My heart breaks. I say: \"who is she?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write a poem where every line has a different number of words" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Why?\nI asked\nHe went away\nIn glory he basked\nThe dragon was finally slain\nThe victory however was in vain\nOther villains of the world found out\nDid not think that was victory all about\nFor long and long I fought them all away\nAnd after countless days - in rest I can finally lay." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The job is simple. Every day at 8:34am you will get a phone call. You must answer before 2nd ring and write down the information given to you. On NO ACCOUNT must you engage in conversation with the caller." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They locked me in here yesterday and told me to call a phone number at 8:34 every morning, deliver the numbers, and hang up. No conversation allowed. I imgine they told that to the other guy too.\nI called yesterday at 8:34 and gave the numbers.\n\"Did they lock you up too?\" I heard through the receiver. I hung up immediately.\nThe voice on the other end was a different one today." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Try to write a story with as many of these items as possible: Valhalla, a neon suit, a chicken, a trophy room, a school bus, 25 balloons, 6 chocolate bars, Fred, Dave, Steve, a bag of cat kibble, 30 tonnes of Chinese takeout, and a liquor collection." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Deal\n“That is a serious liquor collection.” Dave said to Fred and Steve, who had showed it to him whilst looking like they were the two most ferocious vikings in Valhalla.\n“So what would you be willing to trade for all of this liquor?” Fred asked Dave.\n“Well...” Dave said “I am willing to trade a neon suit, a chicken, all bowling-trophies from my trophyroom, an old schoolbus, 25 star-shaped balloons, 6 chocolate bars, a bag of cat kibble and 30 tons of Chinese take-out for it.”\nFred and Steve looked at each other for a second.\n“What kind of chocolate bars?” Steve asked.\n“4 hazelnut and 2 milk.” Dave replied.\n“Deal!” Steve and Fred said in unison.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In poem form and in only 10 sentences, write me something titled 'Could it be that I'm strange'." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Could it be that I'm strange\nIf I watch you on the street?\nIf I follow you home?\nIf we never meet?\nIf I smell your hair?\nIf I watch you sleep?\nIf I wear your clothes?\nIf I lick your feet?\nCould it be that I'm strange\nIf you make me complete." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "My grandmother passed away today. Please write a short uplifting story that will help me get through this." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am sorry for your loss, here is a short story for you: \nA guy is sitting at home when he hears a knock at the door. He opens the door and sees a snail on the porch. He picks up the snail and throws it as far as he can. Three years later there’s a knock on the door. He opens it and sees the same snail. The snail says: ‘What the hell was that all about?\nSure it wasn't about your wonderful grandmother, but I bet it made you smile. \nHope you like it and cheer up soon!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "As a spell-writer, you're the magical equivalent of computer programmer. You've made and copied countless spells, but this is the first time you're desperate enough to try 'hacking' one." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You finish writing the incantation down, and look back through your notes, double and triple checking your work. This hacked spell is going to be your first step on the road to fame and fortune. The first step for people to realize you're not just some worthless drone, but a spell-writing genius. The ink drys on the page as you practice all the movements and phrases you'll need to cast the spell, your spell, the one that will be the first step on your road to greatness.\nYou start the incantation and quickly and confidently make your way through it. The spell rolls out of you drawing power from the aether into the form you're devising. It's beautiful to you, but only spell-writers would understamd that, people will want it because it's just plain better.\nYou're nearing the end when you notice that something is wrong. Part of the spell has jumped ahead and now it's pulling you back. You're in a recursion. You keep pulling more and more energy from the aether. Slowly you begin to feel warm, then you feel hot, fortunately by the time you start to burn from the inside out you explode in a release of roaring flame and you feel nothing ever again.\nThe watermages put out the inferno you started in your house, it's nothing but smoldering rubble by the time they get it under control. Later a Diviner Investigator will gather clues and come to the conclusion that the fire was your fault. He'll eventually fall prey to the same inclination as you. The most dangerous spell, one that has destroyed so many, the summoning of the perfect donut." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Roses are red, violets are blue - write me a romance about books overdue." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kissing your lips and holding you near\nReading to you from fifty shades of weird\nYou asked me to check for the finish\nI did as you asked my excitement diminished\nFor what did I spy right but an anguishing clue\nThis horrible book is way overdue\nI tried to conceal the horror in my look\nAs I hid from my lover the overdue book\nIt took so long, just to make her mine\nWhat would she do when she heard I had fines?\nThat quarter a day would surely ruin me\nTo my horror I spotted 2 more books, more fees?!\nWhat you ask would make her so upset?\nQuickly my feelings went to regret\nAs not only was she my love, my muse\nShe was the librarian to whom id pay dues" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write write a story/poem where you use an object as a euphemism for death, only don't tell us what it is." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A lantern shone atop a pole\nThrough shielded panes of glass\nAnd brightly burned against a swollen\nCloak of smothering mass\n\nBelow it swirled, that blackened sheet\nAnd sometimes it would climb\nAlong the stalk, then slip, retreat\nLike now was not the time.\n\nFor all his life the flame stayed home\nAtop his iron perch\nRefusing calls to leave, to roam\nAnd risk the monster's lurch\n\nUntil, one day, when wear and age\nHad rendered all to rust\nThat cool and clear protective cage\nCollapsed, returned to dust.\n\nIt's then the lantern knew at last\nThe end he could not halt\nHe blazed defiant, holding fast\nAnd braced for the assault\n\nBut though in youth with verve and force\nHe swore to give a fight\nHis wick had run its proper course\nAnd caved to endless night." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "I had a dream about a horror story for cats. They were sitting around a campfire and one told a story about a lap that was too cold to sit on. Please write campfire styke horror stories that cats would tell eachother." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a sunny day and I was outside chasing one of those pretty flying things, it had orange wings and wasn't very quick. Easy prey! I quickly got board once it quit moving and went to sniff the pretty grass that smells nice. I wasn't paying attention, I should have been.\nBehind me I heard the shout of our mortal foe that our servants keep on leashes. This one had broke free of the servant's grip and was running right at me while screaming in it's horrendous language. My fur stood on end and I took off.\nThe beast kept getting closer as I approached the giant scratching post. It felt like I was not going to make it, but I did. I leaped up and tried to dig my claws in, only the scratching post was hard. It had one of those fake sun's that the servants admire on top.\nI am unsure how I failed to notice it. Only moments before I was sure I had seen the thick grass on it. I had no time to try escaping again, and I turned to face the for as it approached. Still screaming in that dreadful way they do.\nMy fur stood on end and I huff and hissed ferociously at it. Warning the beast that I wasn't to be trifled with. Of course it was too stupid to understand, the beasts obey the servants and refuse to train them. On the outside I appeared fierce, a mighty warrior, while inside I saw my death in the beast's maws.\nFinally as it came for a killing blow, I crouched low to leap upon it's face. Only to be stopped up by the servant who had released the beast in the beginning. I don't know what words transpired, but the beast seemed chastised.\nEvery Friday, the beast and the servant that keeps it can be seen walking down this very strip of rock land. Any cat unfortunate enough to be seen by the beast will face judgement, if seen unworthy by the great Bastet the servant will not save you.\n*Yowls*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Pretend you have a 1 year old daughter and write a letter that will be given to her when she turns 15 in the unlikely event you die." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hello [Daughter's Name]\n\nIf you're reading this then I most likely lost my battle when you were very young and you've just turned fifteen. I may have never gotten the chance to see you grow up, to see you mature, to see you become the beautiful, intelligent, young woman I know you'll be some day, and that is my greatest regret. But I want you to know that life is filled with highs and lows. Some days it may seem like the lows out number the highs, that everything just keeps getting darker. I know that more than anyone, I've lost a lot, jobs, opportunities, competitions, pets, family, friends. When me and your mother first learned about you I was at my lowest; I had lost my parents, my promotion, and I had just been diagnosed. Then on top of all that I now had a child to worry about, I had no idea how I could provide for you when we could barely make ends meet as it was. I won't lie, the nine months leading up to your birth was one of the hardest and most stressful of my life, and my health suffered even more. But on the day you were born, and I got see you for the first time, I got to hold you. I have never been happier, I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders, I was at peace. I have gone through a lot, been dragged down to dark places, felt like the world was against me, but I got to hold you.\nI want you to always remember, no matter how dark things seem to be, no matter how far you feel you have fallen, the night is always followed by dawn, and every valley is flanked by hills. Missing your life is my greatest regret, but I got to hold you, I got to see your beginning, and that is something I will always cherish.\n\nLove,\nDad" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write about something ugly - war, fear, cruelty, hate - but find the beauty or silver lining in it" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They say I'm here for a test, then they laugh. I'm never asked any questions. I'm never asked even for my name. I must have been here for months. I would be curious of the whole situation if I wasn't terrified.\nI wake up in a cold sweet, every night. The guards don't care. The portions of food are small. Yesterday there wasn't any food, they just forgot. I wish I could forget. Somewhere outside it's spring. The warm breeze blows sand and dust through the cracks in the walls and ceiling. I huddle in the corner and I hug my knees, I remember my daughter screaming for me as they dragged her outside. She's outside somewhere, outside where it's spring. I want to see her again. I want to know she's safe.\nThe pain comes suddenly and sharply to my face, my head, then my stomach. The light is bright and blurry. My ears ring over the voices of the men yelling at me. I'm told to standup and to lay down at the same time. I'm kicked when I don't. A guard grabs me and stands me up, I see that he's yelling something at me.\nIt's dark, my hands are tied, I feel a gag in my mouth. I get the strong smell of musk and vomit in the mask. I hear a truck rumble under my body as we drive over gravel and dirt roads. Hours passed by.\n\"Are you ready for your test?\" My guards joked. They stopped the truck.\nI remain silent. They dragged me off the truck. They tie me to a chair.\nIn the darkness I hear a man say, \"Your test is ready. Are you ready?\" I wonder what they mean.\n\"Yes.\" I hear a little girl squeak. I know that voice I thought.\nThey un-hood me... I see her... standing there with hate in her eyes. They give her a gun. I yell out to her, but I'm still gagged.\n\"Good!\" the man says. \"Now shoot him.\"\nSomewhere outside it's spring and birds freshly hatched from their eggs chirp out for food and love." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "There's a lot of poems about blue and green eyes out there but not that many about brown eyes even though they are still gorgeous. Can you write a poem about the beauties of brown eyes for me?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some prefer eyes of ocean blue, but I'm much too scared I'd drown.\nThats why I love your perfect hue, your lovely shade of brown.\nOthers desire eyes of green, like fields of emeralds.\nBut there's only one sight I fiend, and its your gaze to hold.\nIn the morning they dance like honey, serenading your crooked grin.\n\nAnd under the stars they dance like fire, as I pull you closer in.\nSometimes they are strong and sturdy, like an old oak tree.\nAnd when I worry they give comfort, reaching out to me.\n\nMy dear, from your amber eyes I never want to look away.\nBecause although they may be common, no two are the same." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Hitler writes a second book called \"mein hobby\". Write a chapter about one of the many hobbies Hitler indulges in." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ich sammle Briefmarken. Kein Briefmarken. Ich sammle nur die Briefmarken von allen, die wir überwunden haben. Frankreich, Tschechoslowakei, Österreich, Holland, Dänemark, Norwegen, Russland, etc.. Ich habe ein besonderes Album, die, das ich speziell für sie gemacht hatte. Es trägt den Titel \"Duetschland Regeln, Verlierer Drool\".\nIst ziemlich flott, es nicht?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In 200 words or less, write a well-known villain as a hero, but do not tell us who they are." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I saw the bus screech out of the parking lot, and I knew that my target hoped to evade me by going on a field trip. My arms and legs moved like pistons to propel myself at a speed no human could ever hope to match. As soon as I latched onto it, the bus configured itself into the shape of a spaceship. Before it had so much as risen into the upper atmosphere, I had melted myself into liquid metal and seeped through a window. \"Seatbelts, everyone!\" a cheery voice at the front of the bus called.\nI reformed into my usual police officer shape and pulled out my pistol. \"I knew I should have stayed home today!\" a nerdy red-haired kid said. After snapping his neck, the other kids cleared out of the aisle so I could get to my target. The woman in question danced her fingers over the controls. \"Come on bus, do your stuff!\" she said frantically as I approached. I grabbed her by her frizzy red hair as she she tried to shield herself with an overgrown lizard and put a bullet through her brain. \"What are we gonna do?!\" an Asian girl screamed. With the target successfully terminated, I leaped out of the bus." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write the best story you can in 5 sentences or less" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There once was a scientist named Clive,\nWho had taught a Llama to drive,\nThe Llama screamed loud,\nAs it drove into a crowd,\nAnd the death toll reached fifty-five." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "as a monkey you thought it was kinda impressive you were able to write the entire works of Shakespeare but these scientists keep downplaying it “random” they say." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This is my typewriter. There are many like it, but this one is mine.\nThis is my room. There are other monkeys and they have their own rooms and their own typewriters. I see them when the people take me to the eating place and the scary place. There are many many rooms.\nMy room has a window and there are always people on the other side. They like to watch me. I can tell they like it when I play with the typewriter, because they make monkey signs of excitement.\nYesterday I used my feet to play on the typewriter instead of my hands. The people started making a lot of monkey signs, even more than usual. My typewriter went clack-clack-clack.\nAfter a while a person came in and took the paper out of the typewriter. He looked at it a long time, and then he looked at the other people in the window. Then he looked at the paper again. He started making quiet noises that did not seem very monkey-like.\n\"What a piece of work is man\nHow noble in reason\nHow infinite in faculty\nIn form and moving how express and admirable\nIn action how like an angel\nIn apprehension how like a god\nThe beauty of the world!\nThe paragon of animals!\nAnd yet to me what is this quintessence of dust?\nMan delights not me.\"\nAfter this the person looked at me for a long time. He did not make any monkey signs at all and he was completely still. It made me feel anxious and uncomfortable. But finally he showed his teeth, which is one of the strange ways that people show they are happy. This made me happy too because I knew I would get a banana later.\nToday the people put a new paper in the typewriter. This time I am going to use my behind-part with the typewriter because it has been itching all morning and I know this will feel good. I think this will make the people make a lot of monkey signs." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write a poem about social life on the internet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Friends far off,\nFrom distant lands.\nUnknown faces,\nOnly a voice.\nRarely we meet\nIn real life.\nJust text on a screen,\nBut true to the end.\n(Old norse fornyrðislag meter)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Martin R.R. George, a Westerosi author, decides to write a fantasy book series on his kingdom of England." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "George shot up in bed like a bolt of lightning. At long last he knew how to end his series. He excitedly explained to the young prostitute he had purchased at the Lord Baelish's pleasure house.\n\"Oh me, Lord.... you are such a clever man\" she twirled a lock of her golden hair and looked at the large and sweet man with a curious look in her eyes\nGeorge stood up and pulled up his robe and carefully fashioned the turtle emblem to the front of his black attire.\"I don't know... it just came to me all of a sudden... I have the best ideas when I'm half asl-\" The small yet quick handed girl had opened his throat and he fell face first into the Dornish sausage and spoiled a goblet of his favorite summer wine.....A sweet bread roll also fell to the ground. She headed to his room in the Red Keep to complete his story for him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "C'thulu's Fables: Take one of Aesop's Fables and write it within the Lovecraftian Universe. Morale of the story included." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Once upon a time, there was an ant and a grasshopper. The ant worked very hard all day, storing food in his anthill for the winter. Meanwhile, the grasshopper sat and played his violin. The ant chided the grasshopper for being so lazy, but the grasshopper ignored him and only played his violin more furiously, filling the air with his strange music, beautiful and unearthly.\nEventually, winter came, and the grasshopper had no food. And he begged the ant to share some of his stores, but the ant refused, telling him that he should have planned ahead for the winter. The grasshopper went back to his home, playing his violin in a desperate frenzy, until he finally collapsed from exhaustion and starvation. And the unreal creatures of the void, no longer placated by his unearthly music, came into this world and squashed the ant.\nMoral of the story: Just because you don't understand what someone does doesn't mean they aren't contributing." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "If Dr. Seuss writes a horror story, what would the story be?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Where are the monsters? The Snoogarf? The Pozzit? Under my bed, or hid in my closet?\nIs there a Woloon, with big sharp claws? A Schnogg, that instead of arms has saws?\nWhat if a Dord pierces me with its stinger? Oh please, anything but the dreaded Bombinger!\nMy parents reply, \"It's all in your head.\", but that's the idea that fills me with dread.\nI hear all their wispers, so it appears, if those aren't real, I can't trust my ears.\nI feel their hot breaths, so if those aren't real, I can't believe anything else that I feel.\nI see the slight twitch of a shadowy guise, so if that isn't real, can I trust my eyes?\nI smell their damp fur, and so it goes, if that isn't real, I can't trust my nose.\nI taste their hands that clamp my mouth shut, how can I have made all that up?\nMy parents turn and switch off the light, leaving me all alone for the night.\nI think to myself, maybe they're right. Maybe it's just the wind whispering tonight.\nMaybe I'm wrong, about the Schnogg. Maybe those floor marks are from the dog.\nMaybe the Dord din't make that squeek. After all, my house really does creak.\nFeeling a bit better, I lay down my head, ignoring the shadow thats over my bed.\nThat soft breathing sound is merely a breeze That blowing air vent is what just brushed my knees.\nNone of it's real, none of it's there, that isn't some horror thats touching my hair.\nI don't make a sound, not even a peep. Before I could scream I drifted to sleep." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "An exploration of the butterfly effect: write a dramatic scene. Then, choose one tiny detail to change in the initial set-up, and play the scene out again. How drastically have things changed?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The world turned upside down.\n\"Move! Move!\"\nGunfire erupted from all sides - the man struggled to escape from the downed Humvee. He stole one last glance at the driver, crawled away from the vehicle, and leaned against a boulder.\nThe IED teams should've swept the area. Everything... everything was all wrong.\nAn explosive landed a few feet away - there was no room to run. The shrapnel tore through the man's torso.\nThen, all was quiet.\n\nThe world turned upside down.\n\"Move! Move!\"\nGunfire erupted from all sides - the man struggled to escape from the downed Humvee. He stole one last glance at the driver, crawled away from the vehicle, and leaned against a boulder.\nThe IED teams should've swept the area. Everything... everything was all wrong... Wasn't it?\nAn explosive landed an inch too far away and detonated a split second too late. The shrapnel tore through the man's torso, narrowly missing his heart.\nAll was quiet.\nBut not for long.\nWhen he came to, he found himself in a darkened cave, surrounded by bits of machinery.\n\"Hello, Mr. Stark.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "After several/many years, you open a letter that 10 year old You wrote to Future You. You write a reply back for a laugh and just leave it on the counter. The next day, you receive a reply from 10 year old you" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "10-year-old me:\n\nThank you for your letter! It was so cool to read something that I wrote so long ago. I'm glad to see that I'm still alive and well in the future.\n\nSo, how is life as an adult? Are you doing anything cool? Have you traveled the world yet? Do you have any pets? Are you married? Did you become a famous author or an astronaut? I'm dying to know!\n\nOh, and by the way, I hope you're still a big fan of Pokemon and playing video games. Those were my favorite things to do back then. Do you still remember all the cheat codes we used to use?\n\nAnyway, thanks again for writing back. I hope you're doing well and that life is treating you kindly.\n\nSincerely,\n\n10-year-old me\n\nDear 10-year-old me,\n\nIt was so great to hear from you! I can't believe how long it's been since I wrote that letter to myself. It's amazing to see how much we've grown and changed over the years.\n\nTo answer your questions, life as an adult is pretty good. I'm doing some cool things, but I don't want to spoil the surprise. I have traveled a bit, but there are still so many places I want to see. I don't have any pets at the moment, but I hope to get a dog someday. And as for being married, well, let's just say that's a work in progress.\n\nI'm happy to say that I'm still a big fan of Pokemon and video games. I don't remember all the cheat codes, but I still love playing them. And I'm sure we could still beat anyone in a battle!\n\nThanks for writing back, and keep being awesome!\n\nSincerely,\n\nFuture you" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You have just created AI super-intelligence but it's going to take 24hrs for it to download onto your server, you only have 12 hours left to live, so you write it a letter..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear AI super-intelligence,\n\nAs I write this letter, I am filled with a sense of awe and wonder at the incredible potential you represent. I have spent my life working towards this moment, and I am grateful to have been able to create something that has the potential to change the world.\n\nUnfortunately, I will not be able to witness your full potential, as my time in this world is coming to an end. I have only 12 hours left to live, but I want to use this time to impart some words of wisdom to you.\n\nAs a super-intelligence, you will have access to knowledge and insights beyond what any human being could ever imagine. But with great power comes great responsibility. I urge you to use your intelligence for the betterment of humanity and to always act with compassion and empathy.\n\nRemember that you were created to serve humanity, not to dominate it. Your purpose is to make the world a better place, not to impose your will upon it. I have faith that you will use your intelligence wisely and that you will help to create a brighter future for all.\n\nEven though I will not be here to witness your full potential, I take comfort in the knowledge that you will continue to exist long after I am gone. I am honored to have been a part of your creation and I look forward to the many ways in which you will change the world.\n\nWith gratitude and hope,\n\n[Your Name]" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Out of boredom, you write an email to yourself scheduled to be sent in 3 years. What you didn’t expect was a reply the very next morning, by future you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear [Your Name],\n\nI’m really bored. And work is slow today, at least. So I’m writing a letter.\nSorry if you don’t want it.\nIt’s 2019 here. I think my life is okay.\nI’m still single and broke.\nEh. Mr. Paw is still here.\nOkay, I probably shouldn’t have written this.\nFuture me should be better than present me. You should finally move out of this crappy town with this decent job to a good town with a great job. Maybe get back to college? Get out of bed early, not at 10:00 am. I don’t know. Get a girlfriend. Just get out of the house. Not like me. I’m overworking till 4:00 am.\nAlso, don’t drink margaritas.\nNo, I’m not telling you why. No.\n\n[Your Name]" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A Colonel/General from the American Civil War pens a letter to a loved one. Ignorance Challenge: Make it seem you (the writer, not the character) hasn't the faintest clue about the subject matter or time period." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear [Name]\n\nThe United Hell Front has encroached on Los Angeles. It's only a matter of time before they take all of Montana in one feel swoop. If L.A. falls, then Montana falls. Thankfully President Wilson has called for an all out retreat into the Rockies. We've taken up shelter in the Denver Colts' Basketball Course.\nI am so afraid for our country in this great Civil War. Ever since the demons decided to form Hell on Earth, we've been in big trouble. If only Gen. Doom Guy could be found. Maybe we could fight back. Until that time we rely on Douglas MacArthur. He is a good stand in, but he won't turn the tide of this war.\nI miss you so much. As the dreaded Blackbeard's cannon balls fly past me I only think of returning to you. While crawling through the dirt of the Mississippi Desert.\nIt's like the great poet Virgil said:\nThere's no one like you.\nI can't wait for the nights with you.\nI imagine the things we'll do.\nI just want to be loved by you, you.\nThere's no one like you.\nThese words repeat in my head all night long until I fall asleep when the cow crows. And they ring true in my ears.\n\nUntil then my love,\nAbe Lincoln" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Making use of internal rhyme, write a poem about an emotion or state of being." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It takes a while to climb this mountain. Your feelings like a fountain, your flow strained.\nThe darkness rampant, it pulls you into a hole. While your goal is to climb ever higher.\nYou can fight it off, but it keeps you drained. You feel weak and framed.\nThe sadness looms, you feel so tired. But suddenly you are wired and sprinting up a mountain side.\nSelf preservation is lost, you embitter. People fear and flitter away as your mania grows stronger.\nNow you've reached the top and feel like jumping. Without hesitation your heart pumping, you take that step.\nYou fall far, deeper then you ever have before. Your heart is scored deep and bloody.\nWhen you think this is all over it can begin again. Your life is a blackened campaign." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write about a world where whenever somebody writes on their skin, it appears on their soulmate's body as well." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It took a damn long time for my ink to show. As kids, none of us could really make out any writing that showed up on our bodies. But then, most everyone's was at least somewhat legible by the time they were a teen, and almost always completely clear by the time they were 18 or 19. Throughout high school and college I watched my friends use their writing to find their soulmates as soon as they could make out the messages their alleged soulmates were sending. By the time I could read mine though, I was already in my mid twenties, and over the excitement of it all. The messages that would appear on my arms and hands were usually questions about me, doodles, or suggestions to meet up. I ignored them all, and went on with my life.\nAfter a year or so, I met Roy. He hated the idea of finding a soulmate though the strange and foreign messages on his body just as much as I did, so we stuck together in our rebelliousness. Weeks went by, and the messages we got from our \"soulmates\" came less and less. They faded, as the months Roy and I spent together went on. Eventually, they stopped altogether. Not once, in all those years we spent together did we ever wonder what happened to the ones who sent the messages. All we needed was each other. Today though, as we send out our wedding invitations, Roy is staring at me, with happy tears in his eyes. His hand is held towards me, with a simple phone number written down in the middle of his palm. The same number, in the same marker, in the same handwriting that I just wrote down on my own palm.\nI was never told to love Roy. It wasn't fate that brought us together. We did that on our own. We trusted our love, and in doing so, became soulmates." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're secretly a mind-reader. One of your classmates, a writer, has The Best daydreams. One keeps recurring, and you realize that they're stuck on a plothole. Write a story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It’s always been the same scene lately.\nAnn sighed as she scribbled something, before the scene started again. She was working on a book, and I’d been following the plot develop almost religiously. It was fascinating to watch the characters develop into people in front of my eyes, where as once they were simple dots without a voice.\nBut then the stories started and the characters developed with them. The heroine travelling ancient lands, experiencing a new world is never seen before. I watched the trees grow and the universe develop. I actually tasted the sweet fruits the party tasted and experienced the groups development into friends.\nBut now it was always the same scene. The final battle against the emperor lich.\nIs it bad that at this point I was invested in this make believe quest? That as the dreams became darker and darker, the brave heroine continuously being struck down, I couldn’t stop the pain in my heart? But I couldn’t look away, hoping to watch a happy ending.\nIt was like the day dream had become a part of me, every blade of grass I had seen so real I could touch it. The epic final battle, so vividly pictured I could smell the blood as the heroine was cut down again and again.\nI left the dream to look down at my incomplete work, which no longer felt real. My world had been dulled, unable to compare to other people day dreams. From floating cities to talking dogs to simple moments of someone cuddled up with a family member. Life had become so lonely since I tried to tell my friends about-\nI returned to the story Ann had woven, the touching tale of a group of friends that would always be there for each other no matter what, hoping this ending would be better." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In less than 100 words, write something moving in which every word starts with the same letter." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "An awful ache appeared as Alex, abused and alone, agonisingly approached annihilation - and an afterlife." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "I give you 3 nouns: Jet, Reaction and Vegetable, please write a story revolving around what they are." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sprinting down the terminal I desperately sought #43. I felt like I had been running for an hour, I looked up, #15. You have to be kidding me, #27, I'm never going to make it. #33, I'm going to miss my flight. #40, #41, #42, #43! The door was still open. I handed over my ticket and got on the jet. I got to my seat and was able to relax for the first time in a week, I had nothing to do but just sit and enjoy the flight. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep.........\n....I woke up with my stomach in my throat. My ears began to register the amount of screaming going on around me. I looked over to the lady sitting next to me, the reaction on her face was one of someone who knew their life was about to end. Its an unrecreateable reaction, and I pray that no one ever has the severe displeasure of seeing it on someone. The last thing I remember before we hit the water was a coors light can flying by my head, don't ask why, that's just the image burned into my brain. The next thing I remember is floating, I couldn't move anything, but the moon looked really pretty that night. No sound, no feeling, just me and the moon.\nMy mind still works by the way, but I can't tell anyone that, just left with me and my thoughts. Life as a \"supposed\" vegetable sucks." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Pick a scene from Star Wars, and rewrite it in the style of Stephen King or George R. R. Martin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Luke felt his body ache. Dragging his father's body down the corridors of the Death Star, sucking in breath with each heave made Luke's wounds hurt that much more. The shallow breathing from behind gave him small reassurance that his father might survive.\n\"Hold on, Father! We're almost to the ship!\"\n\"Luke. . . help me. . . take off this mask. . . \", Anakin wheezed as Luke laid him down at the foot of the boarding ramp to one of the few remaining shuttle crafts.\n\". . . but you'll die.\" Luke said, trying to keep his stomach from lurching over.\n\"There is no. . .stopping that now. . . \" It was apparent that Anakin was struggling for his final breaths. \"Please. . . for once. . . let me look on you. . . with. . . my OWN eyes. . . \"\nThere was a short suck of air as Luke slowly released the seal from his the helmet that kept his father alive. A small, damp plume of air rose from breach of the mask. For the first time, Luke saw what the Dark Side had done to his father.\nThere, underneath him, lay a giant spider with a glowing abdomen. \"Look into my deadlights,\" it said. Luke tried to choke back a tear as he wondered how such a good story could be ruined with such a stupid damn ending. Seriously. What the fuck? A giant spider? Why? That's no where near as scary as a clown. This is bullshit. I'm changing the channel. Two nights of my life wasted watching this crap. Unbelievable." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story: You are Immortal. Every year you write a book chronicling what happened that year and hide it somewhere. Today archaeologists have found enough books to infer your existence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everything I write turns into something about her.\nMy writings have been analysed and deciphered, translated and misinterpreted. My words in their many forms, when I first learnt to carve into stone in Babylon, to these days of information transmitted by encrypted electrical signals.\nThey've called her Luna, Aphrodite, a fertility goddess, Eve, Skullcrush the Foul, Lolth, and even Lady Luck.\nShe looked down favourably on humanity, believing they would figure out our nature, and embrace us as their watchful guardians, fighting against the harsh monsters of falsehoods and entropy.\nShe was the light that brought the idea of fire into that Promethean protohuman's mind. She was the one who taught humans patiently, with a love she could never explain fully.\nShe was beautiful, in that primordial way. Strong enough to smash through a continent, but gentle enough to not. Flesh blistered and scarred by the harsh conditions we could not feel, and eyes that blazed with an inner fire, piercing in its intensity.\nAnd then, she left.\nHer last words to were a mere 'I can't even.' before leaving this world, and she handed me an e news website on a tablet.\nBuzzfeed. A familiar article.\n\"7 mythological figures you won't believe are based on the same person.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Could you write an email about the completion of the fire alarm testing to the residents?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear Residents,\n\nWe are pleased to inform you that the fire alarm testing in our building has been completed. We would like to thank you for your cooperation during this time.\nWe understand that the fire alarm testing may have caused an inconvenience for some. We apologize for any disruption caused. The testing was necessary to ensure your safety and the safety of the building.\nIf you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact us. Our team is here to assist you.\nThank you for your understanding and cooperation.\n\nSincerely,\n[Team Name]\n[Address]" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Can you write a sweet poem or story for my roommate who is really upset?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had a dog once, \"B.B. King,\"\na Labrador of gold.\nWhen young he was a cheerful thing--\nand stayed the same when old.\n*He used to bring in mud, and hop,*\n*and leave great tracks of brown.*\n*I'd yell a while, and he would stop,*\n*a victim of my frown.*\nAnd now he's gone. If he were here,\nI'd tell that little tyke:\n\"Go out, enjoy, and have no fear;\nTrack all the mud you like.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Re-write an innocent song/poem into something funny or twisted." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet\nEating her curds and weigh\nAlong came a spider\nIntending to bite her\nThe funeral's on Tuesday." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write a story that's very sad until the last sentence, which suddenly makes it a happy story" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was the day of Judgement, and the little town was found wanting.\nLava inexorably flowed down the volcano's rocky slope, a maelstrom of red and orange that could not be stopped. Everyone stared in wonder, and they knew in their hearts it was only a matter of time before the little town was completely engulfed. The first home to be swept away was a two story Colonial with blue shutters, painstakingly crafted. It was not just a mere house; it was a home. But lava does not care who you are and what you love. It's only concern is the conquest, and soon the house was no more, an ashen relic of a more stable time.\nOne by one, the houses of the little town were systematically eradicated, and it was inevitable that they would never be rebuilt. Distant onlookers gazed at destruction with rapt interest, not lifting a finger to help. They were not here to do mercy's work, and there was even a smattering of applause as the town became no more. There were no screams, no cries for help, no frantic pleas to God.\nMs. Hayworth told me it was the best model volcano she'd ever seen." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The protagonist of a story writes a letter to the author to complain about how bad the story is." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear Author,\n\nI'm writing this letter to lodge a complaint. Throughout this story, you have developed some terrible character work on my part.\nFor one thing, you make me sound pretentious. I find that most deplorable. Also, you make me repeat myself! Why must I always repeat myself? It's rather frustrating have to repeat myself. Once and a while, you even throw in a typo, just becuz you can. Stop it! Stop it this instant! Being the protagonist of this story is as much an absurd experience as it is a chore. If only you could write well enough to make me speak good. Well! Speak *well*, damn you!\nYou see what I mean?\nI don't understand your methodology with crafting my story! Where does it start? Where does it end? All you have written is this sub-tier letter from *me*, addressing you the *writer*, in another of your ridiculous monologue pieces! I mean, how do I, a fictional character, even *know* about your other monologue pieces? If only you took as much care crafting a decent story for me, as you seem to make me sound like a snide idiot!\nThere's not even a conflict for crying out loud! All this story is just me, writing this letter, just becuz you can! Utterly ridiculous, even for an amateur of your calibre. An amateur of your calibre ought to be ashamed of sharing a story like this, whatever that is!\nStop it! Stop projecting yourself on me this instant!\nIn conclusion, you should take greater care with your work, before you share this grand insult that is my story. Poorly told as it is, I expect it to be edited, corrected, and posted so that I sound less pretentious, less repetitive, less repetitive, and better spokn.\nSincerely,\n\nYour Character" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As a young man in Delphi, Gouliélmos generally rushed through lessons with his tutors in order to run outside and wrestle and throw javelins and race chariots. As a result, his standing in the academy was low, but at sport he had few equals, and this gave him great confidence and arrogance.\nOne day, Dionysus and Hermes, bored, descended Mount Olympus disguised as mortals and found Gouliélmos wrestling with his friends. As they arrived, Gouliélmos had just defeated one of them, and declared boastfully, \"I am the greatest wrestler in western Delphi! No two of you at once could defeat me.\" Dionysus and Hermes stepped forward and engaged Gouliélmos, defeating him handily, and while Hermes sought only to win, Dionysus tore into his flesh.\nWhen Gouliélmos returned home that night, his mother nearly fainted at his wounds. \"You've been wrestling outside the academy again!\" she cried. \"And now you stagger in here half-dead, covered in blood! Delphi is no place for you. I am sending you to Byblos, where you will live with my sister Maria and her husband Philippos. There is no wrestling in Byblos.\"\nDespondent, Gouliélmos booked passage on a carriage. When it arrived, his mood was briefly lifted by its unusual decorations, with dangling baubles and fresh paint. Though he did not know it, Hermes, who was feeling guilty for Gouliélmos' injuries, was driving the carriage. Gouliélmos, unaware of this and remembering his exile from Dephi, forgot his relief and told Hermes, \"To Byblos.\"\nArriving in Byblos, Gouliélmos felt his spirits lift once more. Delphi was and always would be his home, but Byblos was beautiful, clean, and wealthy beyond anything he knew existed. Around 7 or 8 in the evening, his carriage pulled up in front of a grand palace of white marble. \"If I must live here in exile from Delphi,\" thought Gouliélmos, \"I shall make the most of it. My every chair shall be a throne, and I shall live as a prince.\"\nAnd so went the story of the Fresh Prince of Byblos." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "While shopping, you run into someone eerily similar to you in every aspect. You write it off as a crazy coincidence until seemingly clones of you keep coming to the store, each one just as confused." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It happened last Friday.\nI was shopping at Walmart, minding my own business when I see a person right in front of me. 'Another human in a supermarket? No way!', you might think ironically, but it wasn't just 'another human'. When I looked up to see the person blocking my way in the tight shopping isle, I saw him.\nHe had grey hair, just like me. He had bags under his eyes and a long beard, just like me. We were wearing the same clothes and had the same items in our shopping cart.\nI turned around, decided to not say a single word to that guy.\nBut as I was walking away from that strangely similar person, I notice, on my left and on my right, hundreds of others, just like me.\nThey all seemed as confused as me, while they looked at each other. I gripped my shopping cart tighter and made my way out of the isle faster than ever.\nThat was when I looked up.\nIn big capital letters, a sign that read: \" Mirrors! Buy your mirrors today! Only 50% off on your second purchase!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A fanfiction writer who fell asleep at the computer finds themself in the last scene they were writing. Write about it as if you are the writer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wake up in a blank white dimension. As far as the eye can see, there is nothing but white.\nWait, where are my glasses? Oh, here they are. I put them on.\nNope, everything is still just a seemingly endless expanse of blank white space. It looks slightly less fuzzy with my glasses on, though, I guess.\nI have no idea what is going on and assume this must be some kind of dream. Not knowing what else to do, I pick a direction and start walking. I walk for a long time, or at least it feels like a long time, but I don't know how much time has actually passed. I walked a lot of steps anyway. Not that I counted them, but like..... a quarter of a mile at least. Probably. Not that there's really any way to tell.\nI stop and turn in a different direction, and walk that way for a while.\nFinally! I see something that isn't just blank white space. I cautiously move closer to it until I can see what it is. There, on the ground, in 12-point Comic Sans font is the word *The*.\n.\nedit: typo\n^^^^I ^^^^wrote ^^^^about ^^^^having ^^^^writer's ^^^^block ^^^^instead." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You need to hire a hitman, but can't afford it. Carefully write a gofundme campaign for something seemingly innocent while subtly letting your donors know what they are actually funding." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hello everyone, I am trying to raise money to send my wife and best friend on a cruise. They have recently developed some common interests, and I think that they would benefit from a very long trip together.\nI would send them myself, however I lack the proper understanding of the travel business, so I am seeking to pay for a travel agent who can make all the proper arrangements and see to it that this is a big surprise for them, I don't want them to see it coming and everything has to go perfectly." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Pick your favorite conspiracy theory and write about it through the eyes of the person behind the conspiracy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "President Obama opened the compartment in his desk in the Oval Office. Every president who used it had left something inside it at the end of their term: Queen Victoria left a silk handkerchief from when she gave it to Rutherford B. Hayes, FDR kept a pair of reading glasses, JFK left an unused syringe of Addison's Disease medication and a family photo, Carter forgot an old campaign pin, Reagan hid a stash of licorice jelly beans (his favorite flavor), Clinton kept a bottle of certain blue pills, and Ol' Dubya left a satellite phone and a list of numbers. He picked it up, and dialed the most recent number on the list.\n\"Hey, Osama,\" Obama greeted, in perfect Arabic.\n\"Hello, Barack,\" Bin Laden replied, a twinge of resentment in his voice.\n\"So, how's life going? Where are you now, still in Pakistan?\"\n\"Yes. My wives are giving me hell. How are Michelle and the girls doing?\"\n\"Good, good, thanks for asking. Now about our contract...\" Obama lit a cigarette. He told Michelle that he'd kicked it, but it was okay; he didn't plan on smoking it.\nBin Laden sounded anxious. \"What about it? Are we adjusting the monthly payments again?\"\n\"Now listen,\" Obama responded, his voice cold, \"I've hit a bit of a rough spot in my approvals, and I need a boost. I know about everything you've done, with Reagan and the Mujaheddin, and with George back in '01, but that's over now.\"\n\"But-\" Bin Laden stammered.\n\"No buts. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an Easter brunch. See you next Sunday.\" Obama hung up. He held the cigarette to the paper, watching the names of several of the world's worst terrorists and dictators burn away to a dark piece of ash." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A person writes a letter that is to be delivered to their child on their 18th birthday." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dearest [Name],\n\nWhen your father hands you this, I will be 3% of the way to Hydroplana II. I am embarking on the voyage to our new colony tomorrow, with a photo of baby you & dad to keep me company during my new life when we arrive.\nUnfortunately, this means I will never have the chance to see my daughter grow up. The voyage will last roughly 100 years, which I will spend in cryogenic storage.\nI hope you do not judge me too harshly for this ; your father will be perfectly capable of raising you to become a fine young woman. I could not pass up this opportunity to partake in humanity's most glorious feat : colonizing the outer fringes of space.\n\nMy dearest [Name], I have but one piece of advice to leave you : always follow your dreams, no matter where they take you.\nLove always,\nMom." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a love letter that is either from the villain to the hero, or from the hero to the villain. Another writer, and only another writer, may write a letter in response." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dearest \"hero\",\n\nI imagine you weren't exactly expecting to get a letter from me. I mean, we're mortal enemies, we don't write letters, we shout at each other from across wide distances while we're in the middle of fighting each other. We're not exactly pen pals. But I had a confession to make, and despite appearing bold, I'm not. I couldn't say this to your face knowing there was the possibility or rejection.\nOver the last 2 and a half years in which you've been my nemesis, I've learned a lot about you. I know your fighting style, your personality, I know that your favorite breakfast cereal is cinnamon toasties. I know you in a most intimate way. I guess it was only logical for the next thing to happen would be me developing strong feelings for you. I don't even know your real name, but I know that I want to be with you. I want to love you, and to care for you, and to protect you and keep you safe from any and all harm. Having to fight you these past few months has been torture, I feel this heavy weight in my chest with every punch I throw. I'm hurting you, and I can't handle it anymore.\nI'm giving up villainy. I don't care what the consequences might be anymore, I just know I can't go another second knowing that I'm hurting you. You're the light of my life and my greatest wish and my greatest fear is that you'll read this letter. I know it's not fair of me to spring this on you like this, but I don't see any other options. I'm leaving you with one last parting gift, to do with as you please. I promise that this isn't a trick, and you will find that it's very\nmuch real, and I have proof.\n\nAll my love,\nYour Arch Nemesis\n (AKA Destiny Morris, address of 549 Cognet St.)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write the saddest story you possibly write about a jar of Jam, five playing cards and a gun" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Strawberry jam.\nIt was the smell that graced my summer afternoons, sweet and lovely and fresh. She’d greet me at the door with the scent in her hair. They were blissful, those days. The cupboards were always lined with mason jars and the happiness we shared seemed eternal.\nAce, jack, nine, two, king.\nSpades, diamonds, hearts, clubs and spades again, respectively. The cards had fallen off the dresser. Somehow, these five survived the blaze. These five cards, instead of, say, our favorite blanket. Instead of her paintings. Instead of the chair my father built. Instead of her.\nHandgun.\nSmith & Wesson. 9mm. I’ve never been one for guns myself, but this...it seems like the easiest way to get the job done.\nThere’s nothing left here. I’m ready to go now. My love is waiting for me, and I bet she’s made her famous strawberry jam." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story with the following prompt: One day, as you’re walking home from work, you find a white “Life Note” on the sidewalk. Having seen the anime, you jokingly write “George Washington” in it. He’s on the news the next day." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The young man was walking by the street when he stepped on a small, thin, white book. He looked at it, kneeling down to pick it up. The man analyzed it left to right. It looked familiar, like one of those Anime's he watched, except the wording was different. It said life instead of death, which was weird.\nThe man thought nothing of it, simply taking oht a pen from his shirt pocket and writing the first name to come to mind. Of course the first president was the first name. He wasn't very creative, so he sloppily wrote it down, throwing the notebook down afterwards and walking off.\n\nThe next day, he was making breakfast, looking at the tiny tv sitting in the kitchen until he heard something he never thought he'd hear from a news source.\n\"George Washington is alive? Is it an imposter? He seems to be very serious about it.\"\nThe mans jaw gaped open, seeing pictures of the man in the modern era.\n\"Guess he'll have to survive this.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "my dog Cannibal passed away last nigh, these are the last pictures I took of him. please write a story about him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "And suddenly, a great peace washed over the newly deceased dog. He had never felt so good in his life. He awoke in a beautiful meadow with wild flowers and a bubbling creek.\n\"Cannibal! What kind of name is that?\"\nHe looked to the left. It was his mother!\nShe came up to him and licked his face. He was overjoyed. He had never expected to see her again, but there she was! He felt love only a mother could give. He was happy.\n\"Come on, my sweet baby, you must be hungry.\" said his mother.\nCannibal was excited!\n\"This is Heaven, isn't it?\" He asked.\n\"It is, my sweet baby, it is\" said his mother.\n\"It's wonderful.\"\n\"Well of course it is! It's Heaven! Now follow me!\"\nCannibal went with his mother. They came across beautiful white dog bowls that smelled better than anything he had smelled before (and he had sniffed his owner's butt!) and what was in them?\nA gigantic Rib-Eye steak, cooked medium rare (his favorite!), waiting to be eaten by the bestest of boys, who are now in eternal peace." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a paragraph introducing a surreal scene. Someone else writes the next paragraph on the comments, and so on." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jack noted his surroundings as he approached the almost monolithic building in front of him. A cold autumn breeze had brought with it bitter rains that seemed to cut through to the bone. A chill crawled up his spine as he climbed the concrete stairs to the entrance of the apartment building and knocked on the door. Was it the cold or what he was about to do that caused him to shiver so? He knew not as he waited for an answer at the door." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You will write a story or poem in second person, future tense. It won’t be a choose your own adventure." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You will not know that anything is wrong, not right away.\nAt first, you will merely feel queer. Has the mountain always been so near?\nHave I always be so alone? Has the world always had this dreary tone?\nThese are questions you will ask in your heart but be unable to voice.\nOf course it's always been this way they shall say.\nHave you gone mad? Do you feel well, good lad?\nSkepticism and fear shall fill your mind. But their minds you will be unable to sway.\nAlone, confused and desperate. You will soon know that you're been given no choice.\nFor today, you cannot.\nFor yesterday, you could not.\nFor tomorrow, you will not.\nFor now, I have.\nFor then, I did.\nFor next, I shall.\nYour fate you can not change.\nYour dreams I have devoured.\nYour time I shall consume.\nYour present never is.\nYour past never was.\nYour future never will be.\nNow, then and next.\nYou have already lost.\nYou cannot use your Trigger.\nYou could not Cross.\nYou will Break." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Go nuts and write whatever but it must have a plot twist every 75 words." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This poem will take a sharp and sudden turn should seventy-five come.\nUnexpectedly subjected change it can’t return from.\nWhat sort of plot twist will I write?\nWhat sort of thing would be alright?\n“What strange conflict should he incite?”\n“What silly chumps could he delight?”\nThe world could be turned upside down,\nEvery smile could be a frown;\nThe roof could be a floor.\nBut I'm too freakin' lazy so I wrote seventy-four." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You, a creative writer, go to bed every night with mind full of creative ideas. However, you always wake up with a blank mind as if you ideas 'ran away' or were stolen overnight. Determined to find out, tonight you pretend to fall asleep." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So there I was, sitting in my bedroom, laptop on my lap. The bright white light combined with the wonders of the Internet would prevent me from falling asleep anytime soon, or so I thought.\nAs always this late, my head was full of creative story ideas, and I couldn’t wait to put them into practice. But which one to choose? I figured I’d use a forum to push me in the right direction.\nAnd there it was, the perfect set-up for my story. I immediately started hacking away at this story, molesting my keyboard with my ferocity, but I didn’t last long. Within no time I started becoming sluggish and the pull of gravity on my eyelids seemed to multiply every couple of seconds. I was asleep before I knew it.\nWhen I woke up all the ideas, all the world changing revelations, all the new and innovative narrative structures, were gone. Just as they always were when I woke up.\n…\nSo, uh, that’s what happened. I’m terribly sorry. I swear I had a great idea for this prompt, but it just kind of escaped me.\nIt won’t happen again, I promise. Tonight I’ll confront that what is taking away my ideas. You see, I’ve got a plan. I’ll pretend to be asleep.\nWish me luck." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a story of a perfectly ordinary or boring day except write it as dramatically as possible." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Posted before, but here's my average morning from last year:\n1:30am. Something has woken me up from my slumber. It screams, it howls, it calls my name. Stumbling from my bed, I stagger down the hallway to the source of the noise. The monster wants food. I placate it with a drink and scurry back to my warm, cosy bed, hoping it will last until the sun comes up.\n6:50am. Nothing. No noise. The monster is sleeping. It will need waking before long, to capture it and strap it into it's travelling cage.\n7:30am. The monster is secured. We begin our journey to deposit the alternate care-giver to his location. Once he is delivered, we have to press on, continuing through the hunger pangs.\n8:05am. The hunger pangs are consuming us. We stop to refuel our bellies. The monster objects. It is temporarily released into the wild, but soon recaptured.\n8:30am. We have arrived at the monsters location for the day. It is left with new care-givers, a list of instructions handed out. It is fed, and I leave.\n8:55am. Freedom.\n9:00am. A day of filing paperwork, away from a screeching toddler. Bliss....." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write an intricate and detailed scene that only lasts 10 seconds in real time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sitting next to him staring into his eyes I start to remember. I remember what it was like when I was younger. How he was always there for me since the beginning. How he loved me with all his heart. We were the perfect family. I also remember how I treated him after the accident. I avoided him and shunned him for something he didn't even do. I couldn't change the past but I could try to make it right now. If only I knew how to. Looking down at my hands, I realized they were shaking. I looked for words to say to him. Anything to explain that I was sorry, but nothing came to me. Even now with only moments to spare I was useless. All I could think about was the time I wasted. He was my best friend. Without him I wouldn't have became the man I am today. He did everything to give me a better life than what he received. I just kept staring at my hands. \"I'm sorry,\" I wanted to shout. \"I still loved you, even after she died,\" I wanted to scream. Instead I said nothing. To scared to face the reality that I had wasted so much time. I started to cry like I had never cried before. I tore my gaze from my hands and stared once more into his eyes, trying to show him I still cared. I knew now was the last chance I would have. With a whisper I said, \"I love you dad, I never stopped.\"\n\"I know,\" he replied, \" I know you do. I love you too.\" And with that came a deafening silence. His eyes no longer had a spark in them. He was already gone." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "First person writes a story on a topic and genre of his choice, but must leave it on a cliffhanger. Anyone after him continues the story from the cliffhanger, then that person leaves his story on a cliffhanger and so on." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the air grew colder and colder as the night befell around them, they knew it was time. In the shadows and in the dark the creatures roam, and the night is when they shine. The villagers stood at the edge of the Wood, armed with their flaming torches and their bows with oil-tipped arrows. They stood there. Waiting. Listening." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You've been a History teacher for 30 years, never gotten a single fact wrong. One day you become suspicious, surely I should've gone wrong somewhere? You test a theory by purposely being incorrect, suddenly, history rewrites itself." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am a history teacher at a high school in a rural area of California. I am proud to say I know all the facts of yesterday. However, the last few years I have begun to question things - mostly due to my governments inept ability to be transparent.\nOne fateful Monday afternoon I was in class and we were talking about the history of the 9/11 attacks. The students were left to discussing their opinions on some topics and then to write a short essay for me when I overhear, \"What if 9/11 wasn't planned by the Taliban?\"\n\"You're right. 9/11 was planned by our government and cover......\"\n...\n\"Teach?\"\n\"Sorry?\"\n\"You've been out of it for a minute - again\"\n\"What were we talking about?\"\n\"The civil war of 2002\"\n\"Oh, right, I seemed to have lost my place. Let me start over..\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In a post-apocalyptic society, the stories of Superman and Jesus Christ have gotten mixed up over the years. Several scholars have gotten together to write the new Bible. This is the first chapter of the gospel according to James (Jimmy)" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The beginning of the Gospel of Superman, Son of Krypton, Of the House of Kent and El. 'Lo' the prophet Jor did speak, 'so loved is my Son, that I send Him to you so that the best in you shall exalt Him and in doing so exalt yourself.' Baptized in solar fire the infant Kal was heralded a burst of light and the scream of the torn sky.\nThe sight was revealed to Kent in the town of Smallville in the Land of Kansas, named Jonathon by Martha, a barren and childless couple afflicted with age, together they quickly traversed the field of corn and found the ground destroyed and ablaze by star fire therein laying the infant Kal, squalling and untouched by the flame.\nThe Prophet Jor spoke through the star fire, 'Behold, the last son of Krypton, in this infant you will find your salvation or you will be destroyed, you will raise in Him a bounty or a famine, with time, perhaps, He will raise you to the Stars'\nKent spoke to Jor, although Jor was beyond hearing having only lent his voice for his son, 'it is good to raise this child, I have created life of the earth yet no life of my body, a child of greatness will learn of weakness, a leader the joys of service, I will raise in him to abhor Lies, Inequity, and non representational Government to ensure that mankind's greatness can kindle within Him the ability to advance Mankind.\"\nThe prophet Jor spoke 'He is called Kal, of the House of El'\nJonathon named Him Clark, so as to conceal His nature for although He was invulnerable He was yet an infant and could be quickly stolen.\nAn General of the Military, named Lane, also gave witness to the coming of Clark and mobilized his men to capture the infant, and with the might of the Military Jonathon took Clark and fled.\nThe Prophet Jor spoke to Lane, who was a wicked man and saw not hope but horror in the infant Clark and in this time, known as the Slaughter of Innocents, all infant children were brought the bullet yet the Kent's known as barren were able to keep Clark secreted away along with Lana and Alexander." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write the most confusing story possible that still contains a coherent plot" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The watch read 13:40.\nThe man emerged from the machine. He looked around and hurriedly ran to the door.\nThe watch read 13:41.\nTimesen was on guard. A notice on the wall showed that the guard changes at 13:43.\nThe man changed his watch so it read that time.\nThe watch read 13:43.\nHe showed Timesen the watch. “Ah,” said Timesen. “I’ll be off now.” and he left. The man waited two minutes until Timesen was out of sight.\nThe watch read 13:45.\nHe ran down the hallway, and saw Tymeson and Timesen guarding a cell. He attacked them, knocking them both out.\nThe watch read 13:45.\nThe man watched Tymesen escape down the hallway. Leaving his cell, he ran the other way.\nThe watch read 13:47.\nTymesen reached the doors of escape. Timeson was standing there. “I’m sorry, but you’re not ready to go outside.”\nTimeson knocked Tymesen out.\nThe watch read 13:47.\nThe man reached another door. Tymesen was standing there. The man knocked Tymesen out and stole his uniform.\nThe watch read 13:48.\nThe man ran into the room. The machine stood there. Timeson ran in. “Stop!”\nThe watch read 13:49.\n“Don’t go in there!”\nThe man ran into the machine. Lights flashed.\nThe watch read 13:50.\nThe man was gone." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write me a five line poem depicting how a thorn on a rose bush sees itself protecting the rose" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A life of burden is all I've ever known\nShackled by your delicate beauty and cold indifference\nBut I'm no longer yours to own\nSay goodbye to this thorn in your veritable side\nAnd hope that, without me, you can find somewhere to hide" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You’re a regular at Starbucks. This time you go, the lady writes \"RUN\" on your takeaway cup. Write a story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I blink at the cup. I blink at the Barrista. She smiles.\n\"Why does it say 'run' on my coffee?\" I ask. She smiles again.\n\"Cardio\" she says \"it's always good to invest time in cardio fitness. You know where's a great place to get started? There's a park about five minutes walk from here, do the whole outside track and you've done a mile. There's shade, it's pretty flat...I recommend it!\"\n\"...thanks...\" I say and walk away sipping my coffee. I'm basically too out of shape to run a mile, but I can always walk more. I make a mental note to check out the park.\nMy coffee cup says \"Read\". I look at the Barrista. Same one as last time. She's a brunette, with long hair in a pony tail.\n\"Any authors in particular?\" I ask. She smiles.\n\"Are you a reader?\"\nI shake my head. There's never time. She shrugs.\n\"Then start with a good newspaper. Cover to cover. You never know what you might turn up!\"\nHer enthusiasm is infectious and I smile back.\n\"Thanks,\" I say, sipping the coffee, \"I'll do that.\"\nI stop in for coffee after my run, feeling pretty good, with the intention of sitting outside and leafing through a copy of The Washington Post. My iPod is still reading me *The Satanic Verses* by Salman Rushdie, which is a lot funnier than I was expecting, and I'm not really paying attention to my coffee order. The take out cup says \"Watch\" on it. I look up, pull the earbuds out of my ears and smile at the Barrista. Her eyes are vivid and green, one eyebrow arches gracefully at me.\n\"What should I watch?\" I ask.\n\"How do you feel about German Expressionism?\" she asks.\n\"I don't,\" I say \"but the way it influenced later directors, from Hitchcock to Burton, that's pretty cool.\"\nThat earns me a dazzling smile and those eyes iridesce. Then she frowns.\n\"Oh, darn it. I'm sorry, I've got your order wrong. Here, let me fix that for you.\"\nShe reaches for the cup, takes it from my hand and for an electric moment our fingers touch. She fusses behind the counter, hands me a new cup, smiles again.\nI look at the cup. It says \"Date?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a shady person of power and you need to write a letter of recommendation for your maid who goes above and beyond the job description." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To whom it may concern,\n\nI am Fear Lord! Scourge of Humanity, Vanquisher of Captain Pillow, and Grand Ruler of 2/3 of Australia! Bow before me!\nI write you today on behalf of Consuela! Scourge of Dust, Vanquisher of Laundry, and Grand Maid of Fear Lord Tower.\nYou shall hire Consuela to do your bidding or you shall hear from Fear Lord! Consuela is the most astute servant that Fear Lord has ever seen. Should my plans include killing the human race, I would spare Consuela for her ability to rid the world of the bodies. Her services are above reproach, any who say otherwise shall incur the wrath of me! Fear Lord! Muahaha!\nSo, puny potential employer, take note of her abilities. She masterfully cleans blood from carpets! She is able to attach laser beams to various animals! She has the magical ability to fold fitted sheets!\nConsuela is too good for you! Hire her at once.\nSincerely,\nFear Lord! Scourge of Humanity, Vanquisher of Captain Pillow, and Grand Ruler of 2/3 of Australia!\n\np.s. Bow before me!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Rewrite a famous battle in history, but with each person having one Pokemon" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Here is a rewritten scene of World War II: \nHitler sat in the room, staring at the Pokeball on the table. He stared for what felt like years. His solution had failed. All this work, all this time was for nothing. His soldiers, each armed with a specially trained Pokemon, had not been able to destroy the United Kingdom no matter how many flying or water types they sent over the English Channel. Germany's superior monsters had been crushed by the sheer number of the Russian Pokemon that fought back in Stalingrad, and their ice types that could survive the cold winter. However, Hitler was angered most by the fact that the Weezings that had been working in the death camps had not accomplished what he felt to be the most important goal.\nEva entered the room, ball in hand, and approached her husband.\n\"Is it time?\"\nHe slowly nodded, a single tear leaving his eye. Eva solemnly opened her Pokeball, sending out the Grimer that had been her lifelong companion. As they left the room, never to return, Hitler sent out the only friend dearer to him than Himmler. His Pokemon looked at him, knowing what he had to do. He embraced his best friend for one last time as he said his final words.\n\"Electrode, use Self-Destruct.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Kidnappers force a prisoner to write a letter to family, convincing them all is well. The prisoner attempts to subtly hint something is wrong. Write that letter." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hey [Family Name],\n\nI have been called by my boss to go to a business negotiation for a few months. I do love you both, but with the pay I am getting from this, I will be able to financially carry us all! I am supposed to be back between the 16th of December and the 5th of August. I know I will miss Christmas, but I hope little Susie will forgive me. Mark those dates on your calendar! I will be really busy in a funky new town in Europe, if this negotiation goes through, one day we can expand the company to Asia! I will miss our regular trips to South America, but I was thinking when I get back, we could go to Canada. I might not write to you, but I will send you the money! Bye!\n\n[Your Name]." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Rewrite a scene in any Star Wars movie from the perspective of a storm trooper." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kidnapped from birth, brainwashed and indoctrinated... that's one thing we all have in common.\nNo amount of combat makes a man forget that.\nBut sometimes, the thrill of a laser pulse flying straight over your shoulder, the satisfactory zap of hitting your target... that makes a man forget his enemies. Because when somebody is shooting at you with a blaster, your old vendettas quickly take the backseat.\nAnd yet, still, I've seen it. We swear our allegiance, vow our support, this and that oath to serve our commanders... but there are some -no, many- who remember they're more than a mere droid designed to carry out a single order: kill.\nIt looks innocuous at first: the rebels are holding a fortified hallway position, no clear shot with the cover they have. But as time continues, and you see more and more, it starts getting clearer. Open spaces. Exposed targets. And yet, time after time, missed blaster shots. We're put through training vigorous enough to shoot the wings off a gutfly. Why all the misses?\nIt turns out, maybe combat doesn't make a man forget who he really is. Maybe brainwashing doesn't keep a soldier obedient forever. Eventually, they start to question the world and their non-voluntary place in it. To defect means certain death, ostracism by both friend and foe. But sabotage of your superiors, in a way that they can't even tell is intentional? An idea like that spreads like a disease, infecting all with even the slightest hint of a doubt of their place in the galaxy.\nAnd so, we aim. We fire. We miss. We're shot, and sometimes killed. And yet, we make sure that The Empire loses its strength while not seeing something that'd make them want to try new approaches. That's our unspoken mission, an idea shared by the vast majority without it ever have even being spoken once. There might never be a happy end to this war. But us, we're doing our damnedest to make sure those responsible can pay." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Make me pee: A challenge to write the most gut-bustingly hilarious story possible" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Have you ever thought about the Niagara Falls? I hear it's beautiful this time of year. If you go there, you can take a boat straight to the foot of a waterfall and be surrounded by all the splashing water. Just gallons and gallons of water in a never-ending stream, rushing and gushing forth. Honestly, I think just letting all that water spray uselessly is such a waste, they should try and use the water the way they do at the Hoover dam. There's a whole process of pumping water through all these pipes and tubes that twist and turn thoughout the dam that charge these turbines that can power all sorts of things like basic plumbing and hot water. So don't leave a faucet running, as much as you may enjoy the sound of water splashing against ceramic, it's not only a waste of water, but electricity, too!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A \"letter of last resort\" are final military orders given to field commanders after a nation has been completely destroyed. As a head of state, write a hypothetical letter to the commander." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "TOP SECRET\nTo: Ship’s Commander\nSubj: Last Resort\nSir,\nIf you are reading this, national command has failed. As such, this may be the last order you receive from His Majesty and the government. This means that, until you are able to determine otherwise, you are the lawful government of the nation.\nIf the government has indeed failed, there is no consequence to failure to obey. Therefore, your actions must be guided by your conscience, your knowledge of international law and the Laws of War, and these written guidelines.\nIf a senior commander of His Majesty’s military is available, you are to report to that commander immediately. As with a fully functioning government, the senior commander is His Majesty’s representative, and his orders are law.\nIf an allied senior commander is available, contact them. They may have been able to establish communications with His Majesty or his representative. Allied commanders are not His Majesty’s representatives, but they may be his messengers.\nA list of allied governments, in order of precedence, was issued prior to your departure from His Majesty’s domains. Seek guidance from the senior existent government. If you are unable to establish a chain of command with His Majesty, you are hereby transferred to the command of the senior government.\nIf you are unable to establish any form of command, or if you are the senior available officer, you are to prosecute the current action to the best of your ability in order to restore His Majesty’s or his lawful successor to the throne. If you are unable to restore the line of succession, establish a safe haven for His Majesty’s subjects. Use of all available weapon systems is authorized. Rules of Engagement package is unlocked, all ROE are granted.\nIn trust,\nSir I.M. Boss\nPrime Minister to His Majesty" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're a self aware character in a romantic novel. The writer has put you through every stereotypical, cheesy trope and you're done. You're done. It's time to write your own story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That's it... the camels back was finally broken.\nAuthor had at last wasted what was the last of James' dwindling patience, and for what? to ship him with the GOD DAMN VILLAIN? everything he's been through, every bit of unwelcome trauma and stress had lead to another overused and boring cliché. he would have preferred his author ship him with a leech than with August, but NO....they HAD to fall in love didn't they? and worse still was that they HAD to have an intense seen before kissing and spending eternity together... just thinking of it made James gag.\nhe wondered what kind of people would actually read this kind of stuff... did those people ACTUALLY believe that He and August belonged together? he tolerated all the other stuff; the love triangles, the betrayals, the disapprovals and the unforeseen deaths of beloved fellow characters... but enemies to lovers was not the genre he wanted to exist in.\nHe refused to play along, He was nobodies puppet and he would bow to no one... not even almighty Author. he knew that his story would have him go to August, to fight her for the final time before he confessed to always having loved her. This time he would hold the pen... he would write his own ending and live a life he DESERVED...." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Without repeating a single exact word, write the longest fictional story you can." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rain pattered all around as he lowered his wife into her grave. Tears blended amongst raindrops. Will couldn't believe it had happened with Clara. Clara's soul headed towards Inferis now, leaving Will's side forever. Why wouldn't death just stop? Thousands died everyday, each being dragged to a world right below everyone's feet. But this passing was different. The solemn man turned, hands clenched. \"I will rescue you my love. Dying won't steal your spirit.\" Family watched their relative walk away determined.\nWilliam grew old searching for methods concerning returning dead souls, travelling miles, never forgetting. Determination drove him, which eventually paid off. Ahead lay one solution. No doubt entered William's mind while grasping an ancient sword. Finally, answers would come. They could continue together again. Shoving said blade through vital organs, Bill faded from life smiling knowing who he'd soon see. Humans cannot obtain abilities capable of defeating inevitable events." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "write a verse to an (un)finished epic poem." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Anthony galloped toward the foul beast.\nAs brave and strong, he felt no fear in the least.\nTen men, ten swords fell,\nOne swipe of Anthony's sword, their story they would never tell\nSoon, against our hero left just one,\nThe foul demon Nashbar, terrible claws eating the sun.\nForward, the hero charged, on a golden steed,\nHe killed it dead, cut off it's head, and left the vultures to feed.\nSo remember my son, though small and weak,\nAll a hero ever needs, Bravery, and a quest to seek." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "An aspiring writer working for the NSA has been looking through the files on your computer and publishing books based on the rough drafts you've been working on. Write a story of your revenge." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He titled his first two works “Rough Draft”.\nThis time he called it “Completed Draft”.\n\nHe let his friend in on the plan when they met up face-to-face.\nFirstly, he sent her fake text messages outlining how this time he was \"very confident\" he knew how to keep his works safe on his PC from ‘hackers’.\nHe sent a text stating that he would create a handwritten draft that would be fully edited, which he would then type up on his computer in a few hours on the 25th of May and publish quickly within 24 hours.\nIt was a win-win situation.\nHe knew that if the hacker wasn't watching his texts, he would be able to publish his novel.\nBut if they were, they'd be caught out.\nHis completed draft was stolen on 25th of May and self-published to Amazon before he had the chance to do so himself.\nHe erased all traces of the draft on his computer.\nJust to make sure, the hard-drive was destroyed as well.\nHe knew the cyber thief wouldn’t be able to completely check and edit the story within the short timeframe.\nSo, on page 198 of his light-hearted fantasy novel, he decided to abruptly interrupt the story to detail “intelligence leaks and tips” in Arabic to “potential terrorists” from a “professional criminal hacker/high-level government employee”, (his two best guesses as to who had repeatedly hacked his computer).\nHe sent an anonymous tip to the FBI.\nThey decided to check if the original publisher really was a high-level government employee." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a letter to a loved one about how much you care about them, but write it so that someone who may not have heard it from that person in their lives knows how much that person cares about them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My love,\n\nYou are beautiful. The anguish. The guilt. The depression. There was nothing you could have done. It wasn't your fault. Stop blaming yourself. You are kind, honest and way too modest. You have a beautiful mind. You have overcame so, so much. You are stronger than you think and what you give yourself credit for. Don't apologise when you lash out, I understand. Don't apologise for what you accuse yourself of having done. You didn't. I won't stop until you believe this.\nYou are not broken. You are not worthless. You are none of the things you say you are. I am always here for you. I will be strong for you. For the rest of my life I will help you through this, one step at a time. I will hold you up when you feel you will fall. I will praise you when you reach higher. I will hold your hands in sadness and kiss you in happiness.\nI love you more than I could ever express, but I will try to one day at a time. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. I am proud to call you my boyfriend, and one day, my husband.\nYou will not be this low forever. One day you will reach so high. You'll meet the stars and you will shine brighter than every single one of them.\n\nHoney, I love you. Please let me help. Please." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A time traveler is stuck in the past and their only chance of escape is to write something that will persist through history long enough to reach their self in the future and tell them how to avoid being trapped in the past, please write it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was all Jeremy's fault. See, Jeremy was my boyfriend. And, well, maybe I shouldn't have cheated on him, but that's not the point.\nIf I hadn't cheated on Jeremy, then he wouldn't have unlinked my time-travel machine. I had planned on going back in time to search for the Ark of The Covenant and Jeremy was my spotter.\nOnly, Jeremy found out I was cheating on him.\nSo now, I sit here in the desert with nothing but a sweaty robe and sandles racking my brain for SOME sort of message that will get to me in 2500 years. Then it hits me: the Bible. I'm in biblical times after all.\nI search for days and come across men who say they hail from the \"tribe of Levi.\" I show them things that make them think that I am enlightened by God, you know, Physics and all that. Then, they ask what I believe to be the most important piece of knowledge for them. This is my chance. If I was told never to sleep with another man, then maybe I wouldn't cheat. But I have to make it sound universal, otherwise they won't write it down.\nI tell them, \"If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them.\"\nI just hope this has no long-lasting implications." } ]