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[ WP ] The Taking Tree

Once there was a tree and he hated a little boy. Every day the boy would come around and steal from him, his precious seeds and branches to use for playing silly games. He would climb up his trunk cluttering up his eloquently laid branches and perfectly aligned leaves. He was perfect, and the boy was messing it up. The tree was angry. Years came and went and the boys children started to play on him. Finally, the tree came up with a plan and spoke to one of the children. `` Child, what do you want?'' The tree said with devious intent `` To play and remain here for the rest of my life'' `` Then let it be, you can play on all of my branches'' The boy was delighted and started to climb. Finally, he was on the most beautiful branch and the tree decided it was time. The tree separated his most beloved branch and watched the child fall. The tree was finally happy. The tree watched the cars come and leave. Tears that fell and cries that were heard delighted the tree with utmost pleasure. No one would ever play on him again and he could make beautiful branches once again. That was until their second child carved his name with his lovers into his delicate bark. The hatred stored up over the years of peace were all released onto the boy's family once again. The tree talked to the termites living within him. `` Go to that house over there and help me destroy them'' The termites questioned and replied'' If we do this for you, let us eat you more'' Without hesitation the tree agreed, and the house was ruined. The tree fought through the pain of the termites eating him by watching the boys life fall into ruin as the house cost more money. He watched as his wife left him for spending so much and the tree was happy and could look pretty once again. More years passed and the boy was an old man who sat down at the base of the tree. `` I have faced trial and turmoil and now I am old and wise. I have lived a decent life and a peaceful one, even if it was not always pleasant'' The tree was surprised at how he could remain so happy. Did he not see the beauty he destroyed his first time up the tree. The tree was angry enough he called to the winds and asked for assistance in being pushed over. `` But wo n't you surely die?'' They asked `` I do not care, I am not happy'' `` And you will never be,'' Said the winds, finally getting rid of this eyesore on the forest. As the tree crushed the boy the tree was happy in succeeding in this last task. `` At least, I died old and happy,'' Said the boy, with a smile on his face as his last breath left him. The tree was sad at the fact the boy was forever happy, and died with the knowledge, that he had not taken anything from the boy that would stop him.

<s>[INST] The Taking Tree [/INST] Once there was a tree and he hated a little boy. Every day the boy would come around and steal from him, his precious seeds and branches to use for playing silly games. He would climb up his trunk cluttering up his eloquently laid branches and perfectly aligned leaves. He was perfect, and the boy was messing it up. The tree was angry. Years came and went and the boys children started to play on him. Finally, the tree came up with a plan and spoke to one of the children. `` Child, what do you want?'' The tree said with devious intent `` To play and remain here for the rest of my life'' `` Then let it be, you can play on all of my branches'' The boy was delighted and started to climb. Finally, he was on the most beautiful branch and the tree decided it was time. The tree separated his most beloved branch and watched the child fall. The tree was finally happy. The tree watched the cars come and leave. Tears that fell and cries that were heard delighted the tree with utmost pleasure. No one would ever play on him again and he could make beautiful branches once again. That was until their second child carved his name with his lovers into his delicate bark. The hatred stored up over the years of peace were all released onto the boy's family once again. The tree talked to the termites living within him. `` Go to that house over there and help me destroy them'' The termites questioned and replied'' If we do this for you, let us eat you more'' Without hesitation the tree agreed, and the house was ruined. The tree fought through the pain of the termites eating him by watching the boys life fall into ruin as the house cost more money. He watched as his wife left him for spending so much and the tree was happy and could look pretty once again. More years passed and the boy was an old man who sat down at the base of the tree. `` I have faced trial and turmoil and now I am old and wise. I have lived a decent life and a peaceful one, even if it was not always pleasant'' The tree was surprised at how he could remain so happy. Did he not see the beauty he destroyed his first time up the tree. The tree was angry enough he called to the winds and asked for assistance in being pushed over. `` But wo n't you surely die?'' They asked `` I do not care, I am not happy'' `` And you will never be,'' Said the winds, finally getting rid of this eyesore on the forest. As the tree crushed the boy the tree was happy in succeeding in this last task. `` At least, I died old and happy,'' Said the boy, with a smile on his face as his last breath left him. The tree was sad at the fact the boy was forever happy, and died with the knowledge, that he had not taken anything from the boy that would stop him. </s>

[ WP ] Make the reader fall in love . You have three paragraphs .

Lisa, I want you to know I am infinitely proud of you. Every step you make, every dream you have, it's because of me. I did n't ask for this, but you make me believe you are worth anything! Your little eyes never changed from that light grey color you had when born and your beautiful tiny nose is the only thing you have of your mother, and so it's the last thing I have to remember her. Today you said your first words. You said `` I love you''. The most beautiful thing any father can hear. I cry `` I love you too'' softly on your little soft ear, also the last thing I said to your mother before she left us the same day she had you, Lisa. You have so much in common with her, being so young, being her daughter. She chose your name, and I think it's the most beautiful name a girl can have, and you deserve it. I never wanted to lose my wife. I never asked for a daughter. But I am grateful to have a new love of my life. I love you and I will protect you, my daughter and I hope you truly love me too. - /u/Nun01

<s>[INST] Make the reader fall in love . You have three paragraphs . [/INST] Lisa, I want you to know I am infinitely proud of you. Every step you make, every dream you have, it's because of me. I did n't ask for this, but you make me believe you are worth anything! Your little eyes never changed from that light grey color you had when born and your beautiful tiny nose is the only thing you have of your mother, and so it's the last thing I have to remember her. Today you said your first words. You said `` I love you''. The most beautiful thing any father can hear. I cry `` I love you too'' softly on your little soft ear, also the last thing I said to your mother before she left us the same day she had you, Lisa. You have so much in common with her, being so young, being her daughter. She chose your name, and I think it's the most beautiful name a girl can have, and you deserve it. I never wanted to lose my wife. I never asked for a daughter. But I am grateful to have a new love of my life. I love you and I will protect you, my daughter and I hope you truly love me too. - /u/Nun01 </s>

[ WP ] Today everyone woke up with price tags floating over their heads , indicating the value of their life . Your tag is $ 50Tn , the biggest by far , and you have no idea why .

I stood there with a dollar in my hand, waiting for the cashier to take my money for the potato chips I so badly wanted. It was about two in the afternoon, and the impatience I had was increasing. The dark, blonde musky cashier took my money. His movements pushed a dank smell of cigar smoke my way, and I held my breathe after the first hint of his particles. `` Mother fucker, you forgot my fucking chips'', Earl yelled like a child from across the store. I quickly turned around, and regretted ever meeting him. `` Bitch, you got no fucking money.'' Immediately, a number popped up above his head. I proceeded to eat him out. Turned out my luck was about to change. A number popped above my head way beyond my own understanding of numbers. I was worth $ 50Tn. `` Holy shit, keep going baby boy. ``, he said grabbing at my head as I ate him out. The cashier clerk began to weep as he noticed what was going on in his store. I turned to him and began to lick the insides of my mouth after eating out my friend. `` Yo, dude, you next. ``, I said as I pointed at him with his hard docking dick. We made eye contact. This my friends, is how I became the richest mean girl ever. I watched that movie mean girls, like, three times. I'm the best. I'm the best mean girl ever. I'm the best $ 50Tn mean girl dude ever. Fuck yeah, amen.

<s>[INST] Today everyone woke up with price tags floating over their heads , indicating the value of their life . Your tag is $ 50Tn , the biggest by far , and you have no idea why . [/INST] I stood there with a dollar in my hand, waiting for the cashier to take my money for the potato chips I so badly wanted. It was about two in the afternoon, and the impatience I had was increasing. The dark, blonde musky cashier took my money. His movements pushed a dank smell of cigar smoke my way, and I held my breathe after the first hint of his particles. `` Mother fucker, you forgot my fucking chips'', Earl yelled like a child from across the store. I quickly turned around, and regretted ever meeting him. `` Bitch, you got no fucking money.'' Immediately, a number popped up above his head. I proceeded to eat him out. Turned out my luck was about to change. A number popped above my head way beyond my own understanding of numbers. I was worth $ 50Tn. `` Holy shit, keep going baby boy. ``, he said grabbing at my head as I ate him out. The cashier clerk began to weep as he noticed what was going on in his store. I turned to him and began to lick the insides of my mouth after eating out my friend. `` Yo, dude, you next. ``, I said as I pointed at him with his hard docking dick. We made eye contact. This my friends, is how I became the richest mean girl ever. I watched that movie mean girls, like, three times. I'm the best. I'm the best mean girl ever. I'm the best $ 50Tn mean girl dude ever. Fuck yeah, amen. </s>

[ WP ] You wake up , and see that your Goldfish is pointing a gun at you .

-Click-. Shit. I knew the sound of a gun's hammer being pulled back. It was behind me. Who was it? Most assassins have a particular part of their code to *not* come after other assassins. There's a certain fraternity to it. We're all murderous bastards after all, but we need some sort of standards. I slowly turned, expecting to see Skinny Jim, he might just be desperate enough. Or Crazy Carl, who was well named. Hell, we still laugh about that time he was paid in Skittles. Or any number of people, really. The son of that one guy ten years ago. Or that other son from that other guy ten years ago. Revenge is n't entirely out of the question and is generally how you retire in this line of work. But there was no one there. I lowered my hands and looked around, puzzled. I *know* I heard the distinct click of a firearm- `` Down here, dickhead.'' I looked down. Shit. It was Mr. Sparkles. `` I see you remember me. Interesting as how I was so easily forgotten a year ago.'' Mr. Sparkles was my goldfish. Well, he had been my goldfish. We talked shop. Well, I talked shop. He was an outlet for all the stress an anxiety of being a cold blooded murderer for hire. And then there was the day I came home. Mr. Sparkles had lost his luster, and he was twitching in a weird way near the bottom of the bowl. I'm no fish doctor, but the guy looked like he was on his last fin. The big city not exactly being known for its wide expanses of earthy splendor, I did what you do. I flushed him. Apparently Mr. Sparkles had n't been dead. And now he was back, with a vengeance. And a gun. `` Hey, Sparkles! How's it going, I-'' **Bang. ** The bullet tore into the wall a few inches from my ear. `` Hey? Hey!? Do n't fucking'Hey!' me! You dropped me in the shitter! I was n't dead, I was fucking doing yoga! What the hell, man? What. The. Hell.'' Mr. Sparkles waved the gun, his anger clear on his face. Okay, it was the way his gills pulsed hurriedly, but still. A lot of anger. `` Okay, you're right. Look, tell me how I can make this right. I still have the fish bowl. It could be bigger, right? What about some others? Some friends, or how about some ladies, yeah? I can totally go down to the pet store and sort this out, right now.'' -Click-. Again. `` No no, do n't try that shit. There's no go back, man. Do n't you get it? I ca n't just go back in the bowl. I've been down in the shit and the slime. Did you know there were actually gators in the sewers? Do you know what it's like to swallowed whole? Do you know the tenacity and will it takes to lodge yourself in that gator's throat and choke the life out of that fucking luggage set waiting to happen? Nah man, no. This is it. Tonight. One of us walks, or swims, out of here. I'd say let's make it a fair fight, but honestly you already took your shot at me last summer.'' Shit. The hammer fell. Then the world fell. I smelled cordite and metal and blood and then all I saw was a fading glimmer of orange. Mr. Sparkles dragged a fin down one of my eyes, then the next. `` Ashes to ashes, flush to flush. Rest in peace, Boss.''

<s>[INST] You wake up , and see that your Goldfish is pointing a gun at you . [/INST] -Click-. Shit. I knew the sound of a gun's hammer being pulled back. It was behind me. Who was it? Most assassins have a particular part of their code to *not* come after other assassins. There's a certain fraternity to it. We're all murderous bastards after all, but we need some sort of standards. I slowly turned, expecting to see Skinny Jim, he might just be desperate enough. Or Crazy Carl, who was well named. Hell, we still laugh about that time he was paid in Skittles. Or any number of people, really. The son of that one guy ten years ago. Or that other son from that other guy ten years ago. Revenge is n't entirely out of the question and is generally how you retire in this line of work. But there was no one there. I lowered my hands and looked around, puzzled. I *know* I heard the distinct click of a firearm- `` Down here, dickhead.'' I looked down. Shit. It was Mr. Sparkles. `` I see you remember me. Interesting as how I was so easily forgotten a year ago.'' Mr. Sparkles was my goldfish. Well, he had been my goldfish. We talked shop. Well, I talked shop. He was an outlet for all the stress an anxiety of being a cold blooded murderer for hire. And then there was the day I came home. Mr. Sparkles had lost his luster, and he was twitching in a weird way near the bottom of the bowl. I'm no fish doctor, but the guy looked like he was on his last fin. The big city not exactly being known for its wide expanses of earthy splendor, I did what you do. I flushed him. Apparently Mr. Sparkles had n't been dead. And now he was back, with a vengeance. And a gun. `` Hey, Sparkles! How's it going, I-'' **Bang. ** The bullet tore into the wall a few inches from my ear. `` Hey? Hey!? Do n't fucking'Hey!' me! You dropped me in the shitter! I was n't dead, I was fucking doing yoga! What the hell, man? What. The. Hell.'' Mr. Sparkles waved the gun, his anger clear on his face. Okay, it was the way his gills pulsed hurriedly, but still. A lot of anger. `` Okay, you're right. Look, tell me how I can make this right. I still have the fish bowl. It could be bigger, right? What about some others? Some friends, or how about some ladies, yeah? I can totally go down to the pet store and sort this out, right now.'' -Click-. Again. `` No no, do n't try that shit. There's no go back, man. Do n't you get it? I ca n't just go back in the bowl. I've been down in the shit and the slime. Did you know there were actually gators in the sewers? Do you know what it's like to swallowed whole? Do you know the tenacity and will it takes to lodge yourself in that gator's throat and choke the life out of that fucking luggage set waiting to happen? Nah man, no. This is it. Tonight. One of us walks, or swims, out of here. I'd say let's make it a fair fight, but honestly you already took your shot at me last summer.'' Shit. The hammer fell. Then the world fell. I smelled cordite and metal and blood and then all I saw was a fading glimmer of orange. Mr. Sparkles dragged a fin down one of my eyes, then the next. `` Ashes to ashes, flush to flush. Rest in peace, Boss.'' </s>

[ WP ] You wake up with an incredibly useless power , but everyone worships you anyway .

The first thing I noticed was that I was awake hours before I wanted to be. The source of this annoyance was my hands. They had begun to glow. It looked a bit like somebody had held a camera flash behind my hand, kind of cool that you could just make out the bones and the veins and stuff. I freaked out a little at first, my hands looked like they were about to start melting! I was then vexed by this anomaly, and did all of the things a normal person would do, washing them mostly. They looked almost ok under a bright light, slightly opalescent, but ok. Mum certainly was n't impressed. `` what the hell have you been touching boy?'' First thought was `` ya mum!'' But it did n't really work in this scenario. `` I swear it just happened. I woke up like this!'' `` That one wo n't save you this time Jimmy. Just tell me!'' Dad came to my rescue, and thought it was pretty cool, much to mums annoyance. `` Does it hurt? No? Cool! Lets see if you can set stuff on fire!'' So the first day was spent sticking my hand into petrol and various other flammable solids/liquids/gases, encouraged by my somewhat irresponsible father. I do n't think he thought very far ahead on that one. To cut my school day the next day story short, lets just say that we did n't do much learning. Mum told me to keep the gloves on, in the middle of Queensland summer. Which lasted about 5 seconds into my school day. The rest was great. `` how did you do it Jimmy'' `` I dunno.'' `` Come on who gave you your powers?'' `` Ya mum.'' Heh. By the third day at school I had made local news. The fourth day men in a van picked me up from my house and drove me to the `` doctors''. I would rather forget the tests they put me through there. So there you have it. I'm 21 now, and I am working as a zero hour electrician. I was made for it, you could say. All I have to show for my hand powers are a couple of nearly-forgotten nights on SNL type shows, a few scars on my hands the government has forbidden me to talk about, some convenient roots on a night on the town, and of course, the glowing hands. The book I wrote got panned, too audacious apparently. Whatever. I have `` super'' powers. Electrician man, away! EDIT: Punctuation. A `` root'' is Australian for sex.

<s>[INST] You wake up with an incredibly useless power , but everyone worships you anyway . [/INST] The first thing I noticed was that I was awake hours before I wanted to be. The source of this annoyance was my hands. They had begun to glow. It looked a bit like somebody had held a camera flash behind my hand, kind of cool that you could just make out the bones and the veins and stuff. I freaked out a little at first, my hands looked like they were about to start melting! I was then vexed by this anomaly, and did all of the things a normal person would do, washing them mostly. They looked almost ok under a bright light, slightly opalescent, but ok. Mum certainly was n't impressed. `` what the hell have you been touching boy?'' First thought was `` ya mum!'' But it did n't really work in this scenario. `` I swear it just happened. I woke up like this!'' `` That one wo n't save you this time Jimmy. Just tell me!'' Dad came to my rescue, and thought it was pretty cool, much to mums annoyance. `` Does it hurt? No? Cool! Lets see if you can set stuff on fire!'' So the first day was spent sticking my hand into petrol and various other flammable solids/liquids/gases, encouraged by my somewhat irresponsible father. I do n't think he thought very far ahead on that one. To cut my school day the next day story short, lets just say that we did n't do much learning. Mum told me to keep the gloves on, in the middle of Queensland summer. Which lasted about 5 seconds into my school day. The rest was great. `` how did you do it Jimmy'' `` I dunno.'' `` Come on who gave you your powers?'' `` Ya mum.'' Heh. By the third day at school I had made local news. The fourth day men in a van picked me up from my house and drove me to the `` doctors''. I would rather forget the tests they put me through there. So there you have it. I'm 21 now, and I am working as a zero hour electrician. I was made for it, you could say. All I have to show for my hand powers are a couple of nearly-forgotten nights on SNL type shows, a few scars on my hands the government has forbidden me to talk about, some convenient roots on a night on the town, and of course, the glowing hands. The book I wrote got panned, too audacious apparently. Whatever. I have `` super'' powers. Electrician man, away! EDIT: Punctuation. A `` root'' is Australian for sex. </s>

[ WP ] When you wake up one morning you hear a voice that narrates everything . Only problem is that he is narrating your ex 's actions , instead of yours .

Todd awoke from an agitated slumber. He ran his hand over the cold side of the bed and he rolled over onto his back. -- *He woke up as any morning from his past, yearning for the past that was* `` What the hell was that? Who's there? ``, Todd responded, looking around the room, unsure if he is still dreaming or if someone was in his apartment. -- *He felt a surge of panic, worried that someone was watching him* `` Hello? Who is that?'' -- *He calls out to the void, but there is no one there* `` I know you're there. I can hear you!'' -- *He beckoned for the intruder to show himself* `` Well if you're just going to hide, then I'm coming to find you'' -- *Too frightened to deal with the problems at hand, he dove back under the covers and hoped this strange nightmare would soon end* `` Is that a threat? Well it wo n't work'', Todd shouts as he reaches for the bat he stores at the side of his bed, `` If you do n't leave right this instant, I'll...'' -- *He let out a whimper, he always struggled with stressful situations like this. For a moment he wishes his former lover were present. He imagined how he would handle a stranger intruding in his house. He could feel the pressure under his cheeks as the embarrassment of hiding under the blanket like when he heard the sounds of a house settling alone as a child. * `` What's going on...'' Todd murmured to himself as his eyes scanned the room for any movement. -- *With a shout and the jerk of his arm, he flung the blanket towards the foot of the bed and leapt to his feet. He reached for a weapon side of the bed, but his shaking hands only grabbed air. Hope fleeted from his body as he recalled Todd was the one who was paranoid enough to store a weapon bedside* `` David? ``, Todd grabbed his cell phone from the night stand and began dialing David. -- *A loud ring pierces his ears and he lets out another yelp. He lunges for the phone and nearly knocks it to the ground, but manages to grab hold. He barely has time to check that it his former lover calling before he answers and starts babbling into the phone* `` Todd! There's someone in my house! Come over, send help, anything, I'm...'', David chokes out the words. `` Hearing a voice that's announcing your every move?'' `` Yes, someone is my room and watching me and... how did you know?'' -- *He can feel the pressure in his throat move up to his eyes as anger and confusion sets in. His stammering begins rising into a firmer tone as he talks into the phone. He begins to piece an idea together. * `` How would you know that Todd? Are you in my apartment? I ca n't believe you would do something like this.'' Todd interrupts, `` Oh suddenly, this is my fault? You know, this is why I left you in the first place. You never'' David starts shouting into the phone, `` You left me? Is that the story you're telling people now'' -- *And without giving the strange voice a second thought, he dove right back into his old habit of fighting with former lover about anything he could bring up*

<s>[INST] When you wake up one morning you hear a voice that narrates everything . Only problem is that he is narrating your ex 's actions , instead of yours . [/INST] Todd awoke from an agitated slumber. He ran his hand over the cold side of the bed and he rolled over onto his back. -- *He woke up as any morning from his past, yearning for the past that was* `` What the hell was that? Who's there? ``, Todd responded, looking around the room, unsure if he is still dreaming or if someone was in his apartment. -- *He felt a surge of panic, worried that someone was watching him* `` Hello? Who is that?'' -- *He calls out to the void, but there is no one there* `` I know you're there. I can hear you!'' -- *He beckoned for the intruder to show himself* `` Well if you're just going to hide, then I'm coming to find you'' -- *Too frightened to deal with the problems at hand, he dove back under the covers and hoped this strange nightmare would soon end* `` Is that a threat? Well it wo n't work'', Todd shouts as he reaches for the bat he stores at the side of his bed, `` If you do n't leave right this instant, I'll...'' -- *He let out a whimper, he always struggled with stressful situations like this. For a moment he wishes his former lover were present. He imagined how he would handle a stranger intruding in his house. He could feel the pressure under his cheeks as the embarrassment of hiding under the blanket like when he heard the sounds of a house settling alone as a child. * `` What's going on...'' Todd murmured to himself as his eyes scanned the room for any movement. -- *With a shout and the jerk of his arm, he flung the blanket towards the foot of the bed and leapt to his feet. He reached for a weapon side of the bed, but his shaking hands only grabbed air. Hope fleeted from his body as he recalled Todd was the one who was paranoid enough to store a weapon bedside* `` David? ``, Todd grabbed his cell phone from the night stand and began dialing David. -- *A loud ring pierces his ears and he lets out another yelp. He lunges for the phone and nearly knocks it to the ground, but manages to grab hold. He barely has time to check that it his former lover calling before he answers and starts babbling into the phone* `` Todd! There's someone in my house! Come over, send help, anything, I'm...'', David chokes out the words. `` Hearing a voice that's announcing your every move?'' `` Yes, someone is my room and watching me and... how did you know?'' -- *He can feel the pressure in his throat move up to his eyes as anger and confusion sets in. His stammering begins rising into a firmer tone as he talks into the phone. He begins to piece an idea together. * `` How would you know that Todd? Are you in my apartment? I ca n't believe you would do something like this.'' Todd interrupts, `` Oh suddenly, this is my fault? You know, this is why I left you in the first place. You never'' David starts shouting into the phone, `` You left me? Is that the story you're telling people now'' -- *And without giving the strange voice a second thought, he dove right back into his old habit of fighting with former lover about anything he could bring up* </s>

[ WP ] A fictional character talks to a psychiatrist about their belief that they are in a fictional universe and they are about to be killed off by the author . Write from the perspective of the patient or the psychiatrist .

*The wall next to Thomas exploded, and a Minotaur burst into the room. * `` WHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAT THE FUUUCK?!'' *Thomas jumped to his feet and ran, no thoughts in his mind. His feet were on autopilot, and they were carrying him away from the mythical beast as quickly as possible. The Minotaur barreled after Thomas its war ax gleaming wickedly. * `` WHAT IN THE FUCK IS HAPPENING, HOLY SHIT!!'' *Suddenly, a man wearing a sushi chef outfit and a weird mask dropped down in front of him. He swung his katana at Thomas, who ducked and rolled underneath it. Thomas turned a corner and made for the front of the building. * `` OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!'' *The two impossible things were hot on his tail, accompanied now by an anthropomorphic cloud of bees and a tour bus. Thomas could n't comprehend any of this, and he began to go into shock. * `` I NEED TO LEAVE I NEED TO GO THIS IS CRAZY!'' *Thomas slammed through the double doors and stumbled down the stairs in front of the courthouse. A massive tower stood in the distance, and klaxons were wailing all around the open courtyard. Figures in gasmasks and bulletproof vests were heading in his direction, holding bludgeons that crackled with electricity. * `` WH-WHAT?!'' *Thomas ran to his right, just before the things from inside the building careened through the doors and into the crowd of masked people. The bus slammed into a statue in the center of the courtyard, knocking down a screen displaying a glass of milk un-spilling itself in slow motion. * `` FFFAAAAHHHGLARBNAAAHH!!!'' *Thomas's mind had broken past the point of coherence. He ran past open doorways that vomited masked men swinging their stun rods viciously. Thomas vaulted over a fence, just as the Minotaur mowed through the crowd of masked men behind him. He scrambled up a fire escape, then onto the roof of a building. He looked down, and the sushi man was scaling the building quickly. * `` Nnnnnnnnnn...!!'' *Thomas looked around, and a massive blimp rose from the streets below. A woman was in the cabin of the rigid balloon, holding a grenade launcher. She ululated, then launched explosives at Thomas. * `` BWAHHHHHHHHH!!'' *Thomas dove off the building, and landed on a big pile of marshmallows. He jumped up and ran down the street, as a Minotaur, a sushi man, an anthropomorphic cloud of bees, a crowd of masked men, and a tour bus slammed through the wall behind him. The woman in the blimp was firing grenades at him, and Thomas was crying. * `` AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH -- uh?'' *Thomas tripped, and fell forward with all of his momentum. He landed on his head, and broke his neck. He died instantly. * *His pursuers stopped, then looked at eachother. They did n't know what to do. This was supposed to end with Thomas going up into space on a missile that would have exploded on the moon, altering its orbit so significantly that it would have crashed into the Earth, ending life and making for an amazing ending. * *They milled around for a little while, a few masked men placing Thomas's corpse in a body bag and sending him off to a crematorium. After a couple hours, they were all great friends, and loaded up on the tour bus to go eat together at Chili's. * __THE END__

<s>[INST] A fictional character talks to a psychiatrist about their belief that they are in a fictional universe and they are about to be killed off by the author . Write from the perspective of the patient or the psychiatrist . [/INST] *The wall next to Thomas exploded, and a Minotaur burst into the room. * `` WHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAT THE FUUUCK?!'' *Thomas jumped to his feet and ran, no thoughts in his mind. His feet were on autopilot, and they were carrying him away from the mythical beast as quickly as possible. The Minotaur barreled after Thomas its war ax gleaming wickedly. * `` WHAT IN THE FUCK IS HAPPENING, HOLY SHIT!!'' *Suddenly, a man wearing a sushi chef outfit and a weird mask dropped down in front of him. He swung his katana at Thomas, who ducked and rolled underneath it. Thomas turned a corner and made for the front of the building. * `` OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!'' *The two impossible things were hot on his tail, accompanied now by an anthropomorphic cloud of bees and a tour bus. Thomas could n't comprehend any of this, and he began to go into shock. * `` I NEED TO LEAVE I NEED TO GO THIS IS CRAZY!'' *Thomas slammed through the double doors and stumbled down the stairs in front of the courthouse. A massive tower stood in the distance, and klaxons were wailing all around the open courtyard. Figures in gasmasks and bulletproof vests were heading in his direction, holding bludgeons that crackled with electricity. * `` WH-WHAT?!'' *Thomas ran to his right, just before the things from inside the building careened through the doors and into the crowd of masked people. The bus slammed into a statue in the center of the courtyard, knocking down a screen displaying a glass of milk un-spilling itself in slow motion. * `` FFFAAAAHHHGLARBNAAAHH!!!'' *Thomas's mind had broken past the point of coherence. He ran past open doorways that vomited masked men swinging their stun rods viciously. Thomas vaulted over a fence, just as the Minotaur mowed through the crowd of masked men behind him. He scrambled up a fire escape, then onto the roof of a building. He looked down, and the sushi man was scaling the building quickly. * `` Nnnnnnnnnn...!!'' *Thomas looked around, and a massive blimp rose from the streets below. A woman was in the cabin of the rigid balloon, holding a grenade launcher. She ululated, then launched explosives at Thomas. * `` BWAHHHHHHHHH!!'' *Thomas dove off the building, and landed on a big pile of marshmallows. He jumped up and ran down the street, as a Minotaur, a sushi man, an anthropomorphic cloud of bees, a crowd of masked men, and a tour bus slammed through the wall behind him. The woman in the blimp was firing grenades at him, and Thomas was crying. * `` AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH -- uh?'' *Thomas tripped, and fell forward with all of his momentum. He landed on his head, and broke his neck. He died instantly. * *His pursuers stopped, then looked at eachother. They did n't know what to do. This was supposed to end with Thomas going up into space on a missile that would have exploded on the moon, altering its orbit so significantly that it would have crashed into the Earth, ending life and making for an amazing ending. * *They milled around for a little while, a few masked men placing Thomas's corpse in a body bag and sending him off to a crematorium. After a couple hours, they were all great friends, and loaded up on the tour bus to go eat together at Chili's. * __THE END__ </s>

[ WP ] Write something that will make me cry .

John is a simple man. He wakes up at 6:00. It's early, but it's okay. John does n't mind. John brushes his teeth, drinks his coffee, and puts on his clothes. He prepares himself a slice of toast, and butters it. John likes toast. He eats his toast, and kisses his wife ( who has now come out from their room, yawning ) goodbye before heading out the door. John gets to work and starts working immediately. Being a construction worker is hard, but John does n't mind. It pays the bills. John works until noon, when he goes for lunch at a diner. The diner is owned by a man named Tom. John likes Tom, and Tom likes John. They talk, and laugh. John goes back to work at 12:45 and works until eight. As he walks back, he decides to get a flower for his wife. John thinks his wife will like the flower. John comes home, and gives the flower to his wife. She loves it. They prepare and eat dinner together. The food used for it is n't good, but it's okay because they're together. John brushes his teeth, takes a shower and puts on his pajamas. He tells his wife that he loves her and goes to sleep. John was a simple man. I wish he was still here.

<s>[INST] Write something that will make me cry . [/INST] John is a simple man. He wakes up at 6:00. It's early, but it's okay. John does n't mind. John brushes his teeth, drinks his coffee, and puts on his clothes. He prepares himself a slice of toast, and butters it. John likes toast. He eats his toast, and kisses his wife ( who has now come out from their room, yawning ) goodbye before heading out the door. John gets to work and starts working immediately. Being a construction worker is hard, but John does n't mind. It pays the bills. John works until noon, when he goes for lunch at a diner. The diner is owned by a man named Tom. John likes Tom, and Tom likes John. They talk, and laugh. John goes back to work at 12:45 and works until eight. As he walks back, he decides to get a flower for his wife. John thinks his wife will like the flower. John comes home, and gives the flower to his wife. She loves it. They prepare and eat dinner together. The food used for it is n't good, but it's okay because they're together. John brushes his teeth, takes a shower and puts on his pajamas. He tells his wife that he loves her and goes to sleep. John was a simple man. I wish he was still here. </s>

[ WP ] Archaeologists from 2500 discover what our culture was like now .

The most suprised where they, when they dug up mobile cellphones. Or to be more specific, smartphones. At first they could n't get the old and tiny machines to work since the technology in the plastic and glass boxes was too outdated and deceased. The phones were put in a museum to only be taken away 10 years later. Science had proven itself once again and the whole world watched in silence as the first repaired smartphone was restarted for the first time in 500 years... What people saw fascinated them. It turned out that humans still lived like animals not so long ago. Had there been a second dark age? Maybe it had been a result from an unknown tiny mass-extinction. It was described like this:'Some humans are dressed like godess like creatures and adored by a devotive croud of younger humans. Exactly like ancient Egypt has the cat become a creature of devotion again. The humans expressed themselves in unspeakable ways, whining about the weather, politics, religion, other humans. This clearly was a second dark age, but even darker than the first one.'.....

<s>[INST] Archaeologists from 2500 discover what our culture was like now . [/INST] The most suprised where they, when they dug up mobile cellphones. Or to be more specific, smartphones. At first they could n't get the old and tiny machines to work since the technology in the plastic and glass boxes was too outdated and deceased. The phones were put in a museum to only be taken away 10 years later. Science had proven itself once again and the whole world watched in silence as the first repaired smartphone was restarted for the first time in 500 years... What people saw fascinated them. It turned out that humans still lived like animals not so long ago. Had there been a second dark age? Maybe it had been a result from an unknown tiny mass-extinction. It was described like this:'Some humans are dressed like godess like creatures and adored by a devotive croud of younger humans. Exactly like ancient Egypt has the cat become a creature of devotion again. The humans expressed themselves in unspeakable ways, whining about the weather, politics, religion, other humans. This clearly was a second dark age, but even darker than the first one.'..... </s>

[ WP ] People have been getting superpowers for a while , and today you got yours ! No one cares , though , because people are sick and tired of hearing about superpowers and superheroes

*One more time. Just to make sure. * I blow out the candle on my bedside table. The blackened wick droops over the vanilla-scented wax. I take two deep breaths. In. Then out. Then, I FOCUS. I stare at the wick, straining my eyes, like it's one of those magic eye illusions. ( The ones with the 3D images? You cross your eyes and - never mind. ) The wick sparks to life. I can barely keep myself from yelping with delight. *Finally! Yes! YES! I can set fires with my MIND! * A grin spreads across my face so quickly that it threatens to split my head in two. Weeks, practically *months* after everyone else got one, I've been bestowed with a Power. I have no idea why I got it, how I got it, or what I should do with it - but I'm one of them now. I'm a hero. I fling myself off of my bed with uncharacteristic vigor. I do n't bother gathering supplies for classes today - not like I'm going to attend any of them anyway. I gel back my hair with a few clumsy swipes of a comb and throw on a pair of jeans. I consider my choice of shirt for a few seconds, before deciding on a screen-printed red-and-black T-shirt that my roommate made for his death metal band. I contemplate scratching off the name on the back, but I'll be wearing a coat anyway, so no one will see it. I'll get a proper costume later. My dark red jacket completes the look. I look in the mirror above my bed and I see a *beast* look back. Damn. *This is going to be one hell of a day. * The dorm hall is empty this late in the morning. I take the opportunity to test out my heroic swagger. Every hero has to look confident, and the way you walk is the best sign of self-image. A few steps into the unnatural, swingy gait and I reconsider. *Maybe I can just puff out my chest, or laugh a lot, or something. Ah, I'll figure that out later. * I abandon the hallway and race to the second-floor lounge, the only one with a working TV. It's usually filled with procrastinating Lit majors and assorted slackers. They should be a good audience for my heroic debut. I slam open the lounge door and step into the room, arms above my head. `` Guess who's a - um. Hey, Jerry.'' `` Hey, Dan. Nice shirt.'' Jerry is the only one here. He's sitting at a table, shuffling a deck of cards. Ever since he got supernatural luck, he's been shunned by most other students. It turns out that for Jerry to be lucky, someone else has to be unlucky. `` Where is everyone? Usually they're milling around here, watching Food Network or something.'' Jerry composes his face into a small sneer. `` They're in the third-floor lounge. Kyle built a projector or something, and he set up a fighting games tournament. No reason to stay here, I guess...'' Jerry slowly deals five cards onto the table. Royal flush. `` Oh.'' I consider showing him my power, but I want to make an impression on people that *matter*. No offense to Jerry, but... `` I should get up there then. Uh, see you.'' I turn on my heel and run face-first into the closed door. *Jerry. * Before I enter the third-floor lounge, I hear pulsating, bass-heavy techno music echo through the hallway. I open the door and am immediately greeted by someone's forehead meeting my gut. My breath vacates the premises of my lungs, and I fall onto the carpet. `` THERE'S MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM, YOU BASTARD! I'LL - Oh, hey Dan. You okay?'' Yasmin looks through the door, past the human projectile that knocked me down, towards me on the floor. She probably threw whoever this is through the door with her mind bullets or whatever she calls it. `` Hffffggghhhh... Y-yeah. Fine, great. Doing okay. Not dead.'' I roll onto my side and lever myself into a standing position. `` What did this guy do?'' `` What? Nothing. What do you - Oh, you mean, why did I telekinesis him through here?'' She shakes her head. `` I did n't mean to throw him out the door, just *into* it. He's probably fine though.'' Human Cannonball gives a weak thumbs-up, then reconsiders and raises his middle finger. `` Hang on one second.'' Yasmin turns and faces into the lounge. `` So does that mean I won, or what?'' Kyle steps in front of the door with a tablet in hand. `` Uh... I guess? This counts as a ring-out, K.O. number 2... Yep.'' He turns back to the room. `` Yasmin takes another round! Move'er up!'' Cheers and hisses ring from inside the lounge. I look inside. Instead of the lounge I know - battered couches, a broken CRT TV, and a single rickety card table - there's a large, empty space in the middle of the room, and a few levels of stadium-style bleachers on one wall. I turn to Kyle. `` What, exactly, is going on here? This is not the lounge.'' `` No, it's the lounge,'' Kyle says with a spark in his eye. `` I've just expanded it a little bit. I rigged up a space-projection manifold with my microwave and some binder clips, so we could set this tournament up.'' He blinks at me. `` Did you want to enter? It's really only for people with powers...'' My mind snaps back to where it should have been this whole time. I'm ready to blow these people's minds. `` Kyle, my man. *I have powers*.'' I put my hands on my hips and wait for his response. `` Oh, cool.'' He turns back to the bleachers. `` You can maybe join the next one then. This bracket's kind of far along.'' He begins to walk off. `` Wait, wait wait wait! I have powers! I'm a superhero, Kyle!'' `` Great, Dan.'' Kyle waves at me halfheartedly, then steps in front of the bleachers. `` Losers' bracket, round 3! Paul, Ulrich, get up here!'' Two guys - I think I recognize them from the lacrosse team - stand up and move to the center of the unnaturally large room. *I ca n't believe this - Kyle does n't even care! * I open my mouth a few times, but ca n't think of anything to say. The situation in which I find myself defies explanation. Yasmin taps me on the shoulder. `` We should get out of the way.'' She leads me to an open spot on the bleachers, and I sit down as the lacrosse players begin to fight. One of them is throwing punches, the other is... spitting. Lots of spit. `` You got powers?'' Yasmin says with a questioning inflection. `` What kind?'' *Finally, someone who cares. * `` You know how you can throw things around with your mind?'' I pause for dramatic effect. `` Well I can set things on fire with my mind!'' `` Huh.'' Yasmin scratches her hair. `` What kind of things?'' I blink. `` I, uh, do n't really know yet. I lit a candle. Then I came here. To tell people.'' `` You know we are n't allowed to have candles in the dorm, right?'' She glances at me with an eyebrow raised. `` Wha- Candles are n't allowed, but *this*,'' I say, waving my hands at the apparent fight club, `` is!?'' `` I guess so.'' Yasmin stops paying attention to me and focuses on the fight. `` Not many rules on powers, yet. Good for you, though.'' She pats me on the head a few times. `` Now shut up and watch the fight.'' I watch the fight. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- ( I'm open to constructive criticism - I'm working to improve )

<s>[INST] People have been getting superpowers for a while , and today you got yours ! No one cares , though , because people are sick and tired of hearing about superpowers and superheroes [/INST] *One more time. Just to make sure. * I blow out the candle on my bedside table. The blackened wick droops over the vanilla-scented wax. I take two deep breaths. In. Then out. Then, I FOCUS. I stare at the wick, straining my eyes, like it's one of those magic eye illusions. ( The ones with the 3D images? You cross your eyes and - never mind. ) The wick sparks to life. I can barely keep myself from yelping with delight. *Finally! Yes! YES! I can set fires with my MIND! * A grin spreads across my face so quickly that it threatens to split my head in two. Weeks, practically *months* after everyone else got one, I've been bestowed with a Power. I have no idea why I got it, how I got it, or what I should do with it - but I'm one of them now. I'm a hero. I fling myself off of my bed with uncharacteristic vigor. I do n't bother gathering supplies for classes today - not like I'm going to attend any of them anyway. I gel back my hair with a few clumsy swipes of a comb and throw on a pair of jeans. I consider my choice of shirt for a few seconds, before deciding on a screen-printed red-and-black T-shirt that my roommate made for his death metal band. I contemplate scratching off the name on the back, but I'll be wearing a coat anyway, so no one will see it. I'll get a proper costume later. My dark red jacket completes the look. I look in the mirror above my bed and I see a *beast* look back. Damn. *This is going to be one hell of a day. * The dorm hall is empty this late in the morning. I take the opportunity to test out my heroic swagger. Every hero has to look confident, and the way you walk is the best sign of self-image. A few steps into the unnatural, swingy gait and I reconsider. *Maybe I can just puff out my chest, or laugh a lot, or something. Ah, I'll figure that out later. * I abandon the hallway and race to the second-floor lounge, the only one with a working TV. It's usually filled with procrastinating Lit majors and assorted slackers. They should be a good audience for my heroic debut. I slam open the lounge door and step into the room, arms above my head. `` Guess who's a - um. Hey, Jerry.'' `` Hey, Dan. Nice shirt.'' Jerry is the only one here. He's sitting at a table, shuffling a deck of cards. Ever since he got supernatural luck, he's been shunned by most other students. It turns out that for Jerry to be lucky, someone else has to be unlucky. `` Where is everyone? Usually they're milling around here, watching Food Network or something.'' Jerry composes his face into a small sneer. `` They're in the third-floor lounge. Kyle built a projector or something, and he set up a fighting games tournament. No reason to stay here, I guess...'' Jerry slowly deals five cards onto the table. Royal flush. `` Oh.'' I consider showing him my power, but I want to make an impression on people that *matter*. No offense to Jerry, but... `` I should get up there then. Uh, see you.'' I turn on my heel and run face-first into the closed door. *Jerry. * Before I enter the third-floor lounge, I hear pulsating, bass-heavy techno music echo through the hallway. I open the door and am immediately greeted by someone's forehead meeting my gut. My breath vacates the premises of my lungs, and I fall onto the carpet. `` THERE'S MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM, YOU BASTARD! I'LL - Oh, hey Dan. You okay?'' Yasmin looks through the door, past the human projectile that knocked me down, towards me on the floor. She probably threw whoever this is through the door with her mind bullets or whatever she calls it. `` Hffffggghhhh... Y-yeah. Fine, great. Doing okay. Not dead.'' I roll onto my side and lever myself into a standing position. `` What did this guy do?'' `` What? Nothing. What do you - Oh, you mean, why did I telekinesis him through here?'' She shakes her head. `` I did n't mean to throw him out the door, just *into* it. He's probably fine though.'' Human Cannonball gives a weak thumbs-up, then reconsiders and raises his middle finger. `` Hang on one second.'' Yasmin turns and faces into the lounge. `` So does that mean I won, or what?'' Kyle steps in front of the door with a tablet in hand. `` Uh... I guess? This counts as a ring-out, K.O. number 2... Yep.'' He turns back to the room. `` Yasmin takes another round! Move'er up!'' Cheers and hisses ring from inside the lounge. I look inside. Instead of the lounge I know - battered couches, a broken CRT TV, and a single rickety card table - there's a large, empty space in the middle of the room, and a few levels of stadium-style bleachers on one wall. I turn to Kyle. `` What, exactly, is going on here? This is not the lounge.'' `` No, it's the lounge,'' Kyle says with a spark in his eye. `` I've just expanded it a little bit. I rigged up a space-projection manifold with my microwave and some binder clips, so we could set this tournament up.'' He blinks at me. `` Did you want to enter? It's really only for people with powers...'' My mind snaps back to where it should have been this whole time. I'm ready to blow these people's minds. `` Kyle, my man. *I have powers*.'' I put my hands on my hips and wait for his response. `` Oh, cool.'' He turns back to the bleachers. `` You can maybe join the next one then. This bracket's kind of far along.'' He begins to walk off. `` Wait, wait wait wait! I have powers! I'm a superhero, Kyle!'' `` Great, Dan.'' Kyle waves at me halfheartedly, then steps in front of the bleachers. `` Losers' bracket, round 3! Paul, Ulrich, get up here!'' Two guys - I think I recognize them from the lacrosse team - stand up and move to the center of the unnaturally large room. *I ca n't believe this - Kyle does n't even care! * I open my mouth a few times, but ca n't think of anything to say. The situation in which I find myself defies explanation. Yasmin taps me on the shoulder. `` We should get out of the way.'' She leads me to an open spot on the bleachers, and I sit down as the lacrosse players begin to fight. One of them is throwing punches, the other is... spitting. Lots of spit. `` You got powers?'' Yasmin says with a questioning inflection. `` What kind?'' *Finally, someone who cares. * `` You know how you can throw things around with your mind?'' I pause for dramatic effect. `` Well I can set things on fire with my mind!'' `` Huh.'' Yasmin scratches her hair. `` What kind of things?'' I blink. `` I, uh, do n't really know yet. I lit a candle. Then I came here. To tell people.'' `` You know we are n't allowed to have candles in the dorm, right?'' She glances at me with an eyebrow raised. `` Wha- Candles are n't allowed, but *this*,'' I say, waving my hands at the apparent fight club, `` is!?'' `` I guess so.'' Yasmin stops paying attention to me and focuses on the fight. `` Not many rules on powers, yet. Good for you, though.'' She pats me on the head a few times. `` Now shut up and watch the fight.'' I watch the fight. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- ( I'm open to constructive criticism - I'm working to improve ) </s>

[ WP ] in a dystopian future , Black Friday has evolved into a sport in which the rich throw valuable trinkets to the poor and watch them slaughter each other .

Armor is useful. With these crowds, armor leaves the reign of useful though. On this day, of all days, it is imperative. Even with the obvious benefit provided by the armor most of the'shopper' horde came with nothing. Just fleshy meatsacks that wandered at random looking for a good deal. Every once in a while the rich people behind the'hunters' got bored and decided that they wanted to see some carrion. So, they dropped a super deal. `` 50 % off!'' the speakers blare. The lumbering behemoths of the crowd glanced over and discerned that it was a mostly useless deal. In my suit, I could see everything around me in the dim lighting. Every edge I could see was polarized and defined to a point of glaring light. The fleshy hordes bounded over one another and fought over the smallest deals. Not I though. This suit was one of the best in it's price bracket. With a full arsenal of nonlethal weaponry, as well as a few select products designed to be utterly lethal, I am outfitted for the apocalypse... Or just the seasonal Black Friday Bash. Some of this fleshy horde might argue that it was too expensive but they just missed the finer points. `` 99 % Off!'' my radar bleeped and read off the deal into my ear. `` Now that's a good deal.'' I said as I tromped through the crowd towards the approaching deal. This suit had paid itself off in savings quite a while ago.

<s>[INST] in a dystopian future , Black Friday has evolved into a sport in which the rich throw valuable trinkets to the poor and watch them slaughter each other . [/INST] Armor is useful. With these crowds, armor leaves the reign of useful though. On this day, of all days, it is imperative. Even with the obvious benefit provided by the armor most of the'shopper' horde came with nothing. Just fleshy meatsacks that wandered at random looking for a good deal. Every once in a while the rich people behind the'hunters' got bored and decided that they wanted to see some carrion. So, they dropped a super deal. `` 50 % off!'' the speakers blare. The lumbering behemoths of the crowd glanced over and discerned that it was a mostly useless deal. In my suit, I could see everything around me in the dim lighting. Every edge I could see was polarized and defined to a point of glaring light. The fleshy hordes bounded over one another and fought over the smallest deals. Not I though. This suit was one of the best in it's price bracket. With a full arsenal of nonlethal weaponry, as well as a few select products designed to be utterly lethal, I am outfitted for the apocalypse... Or just the seasonal Black Friday Bash. Some of this fleshy horde might argue that it was too expensive but they just missed the finer points. `` 99 % Off!'' my radar bleeped and read off the deal into my ear. `` Now that's a good deal.'' I said as I tromped through the crowd towards the approaching deal. This suit had paid itself off in savings quite a while ago. </s>

[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Rossum 's Universal Robots Edition

B's shelf contained scotch tape, stapler, two bocce ball halfs that served as paperweights, scraps of paper, junkmail, and books. He stared at these objects, criticizing their existences. None held a candle to the bocce ball. The bocce ball had been places. The beach, the woods, Drew's house. Sigh, Drew's house. The bocce ball could never decide whether it was the greatest or worst day of its life. The thrill of a toss from a capable player was something it would always miss. The heft of its mass thudding pleasantly into the ground, its harmonious collaboration with Newtonian physics. That last throw was errant, though. It could immediately notice shaky release from that tipsy hipster's hand before feeling the precise impact of a sharp rock at the edge of the flower beds. The bocce ball's existence fractured instantly, sending two hemispheres of sharp plastic hurtling in opposite directions as the partygoers cheered in delight. The bocce ball, or half-bocce ball really, would never soar again, but furthermore would fulfill the noble role of paperweight and celebrated artifact of yard-sport legend, there to be viewed and discussed with affection for all eternity. He imagined the bocce ball oppressing the shelf with an air of worldly confidence the rest of the pitiful objects could never hope to experience. He got up in a breeze of flatulence and stumbled towards the kitchen.

<s>[INST] [ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Rossum 's Universal Robots Edition [/INST] B's shelf contained scotch tape, stapler, two bocce ball halfs that served as paperweights, scraps of paper, junkmail, and books. He stared at these objects, criticizing their existences. None held a candle to the bocce ball. The bocce ball had been places. The beach, the woods, Drew's house. Sigh, Drew's house. The bocce ball could never decide whether it was the greatest or worst day of its life. The thrill of a toss from a capable player was something it would always miss. The heft of its mass thudding pleasantly into the ground, its harmonious collaboration with Newtonian physics. That last throw was errant, though. It could immediately notice shaky release from that tipsy hipster's hand before feeling the precise impact of a sharp rock at the edge of the flower beds. The bocce ball's existence fractured instantly, sending two hemispheres of sharp plastic hurtling in opposite directions as the partygoers cheered in delight. The bocce ball, or half-bocce ball really, would never soar again, but furthermore would fulfill the noble role of paperweight and celebrated artifact of yard-sport legend, there to be viewed and discussed with affection for all eternity. He imagined the bocce ball oppressing the shelf with an air of worldly confidence the rest of the pitiful objects could never hope to experience. He got up in a breeze of flatulence and stumbled towards the kitchen. </s>

[ WP ] Something mundane that ruins your day .

The bus was late. An old lady sat down next to me, smelling faintly of cat piss. My headphones were in my ears but that did n't stop her from talking to me, so of course I had to take them out. So I listened to her. She complained about everything. The weather, the bus, her children, her grandchildren, and someone else's grandchildren. I nodded as she spoke to seem interested, cause I really was n't. I stood up as one bus passed, `` Not in Service.'' Goddammit I just took out my metro card. From down the block I though it was the bus. I turned to sit back down but an old man was in my seat chatting up the old broad. Oh well, I guess I did n't want to sit anyway. I stood on the outskirts of the bus stop, smoking a cigarette now. It tasted terrible. I had forgotten that I wanted to give up smoking. Shit, I was on my second one already. Where was the bus? I heard the rumble of the engine and peek out into the street to see if its a bus. It was a garbage truck. It rolls on past me, filling my nostrils with a putrid mix of garbage and cold air. I do n't know what it is about the cold, but it makes the garbage smell that much worse. My watch flickers 9:27. I'm a thirty minutes late now. Great. I pick up my phone and call my office, `` Hey, I called this morning saying I was going to be late. I'm going to be a bit later now. The bus, yeah. It's taking forever, I do n't know. Yeah I'll call 311. See you in a bit.'' I did n't call 311. If I was going to be late, I'd rather be late in ignorance. I peak over at the bus stop and the old man and lady were gone. Probably off to swinger's night at the old folks home, I do n't know. Nor do I care. I sit down and slouch against the glass wall of the bus stop and stare out into the road. Car after car rolls by, how sweet it'd be to have a car. But where would I get the money? So I sit and I sit until a bus finally pulled up, forty-seven minutes late. I stand as the doors open and drop my MetroCard as I'm greeted by the ass of some Chinese man wearing a TD Bank hat. He turned and smiled, standing on the stairwell of an over crowded bus. `` Next bus,'' the bus driver croaks as he closed the doors and drove off. I sat back down and held back the desire to curse at every single person who even glanced my way.

<s>[INST] Something mundane that ruins your day . [/INST] The bus was late. An old lady sat down next to me, smelling faintly of cat piss. My headphones were in my ears but that did n't stop her from talking to me, so of course I had to take them out. So I listened to her. She complained about everything. The weather, the bus, her children, her grandchildren, and someone else's grandchildren. I nodded as she spoke to seem interested, cause I really was n't. I stood up as one bus passed, `` Not in Service.'' Goddammit I just took out my metro card. From down the block I though it was the bus. I turned to sit back down but an old man was in my seat chatting up the old broad. Oh well, I guess I did n't want to sit anyway. I stood on the outskirts of the bus stop, smoking a cigarette now. It tasted terrible. I had forgotten that I wanted to give up smoking. Shit, I was on my second one already. Where was the bus? I heard the rumble of the engine and peek out into the street to see if its a bus. It was a garbage truck. It rolls on past me, filling my nostrils with a putrid mix of garbage and cold air. I do n't know what it is about the cold, but it makes the garbage smell that much worse. My watch flickers 9:27. I'm a thirty minutes late now. Great. I pick up my phone and call my office, `` Hey, I called this morning saying I was going to be late. I'm going to be a bit later now. The bus, yeah. It's taking forever, I do n't know. Yeah I'll call 311. See you in a bit.'' I did n't call 311. If I was going to be late, I'd rather be late in ignorance. I peak over at the bus stop and the old man and lady were gone. Probably off to swinger's night at the old folks home, I do n't know. Nor do I care. I sit down and slouch against the glass wall of the bus stop and stare out into the road. Car after car rolls by, how sweet it'd be to have a car. But where would I get the money? So I sit and I sit until a bus finally pulled up, forty-seven minutes late. I stand as the doors open and drop my MetroCard as I'm greeted by the ass of some Chinese man wearing a TD Bank hat. He turned and smiled, standing on the stairwell of an over crowded bus. `` Next bus,'' the bus driver croaks as he closed the doors and drove off. I sat back down and held back the desire to curse at every single person who even glanced my way. </s>

[ WP ] They held hands as they stood silent under the stars .

My heart felt pressurized. Like a heavy weight had been set upon it. I had been standing alone, gazing at the deepness of the stars. Focused on something not of this earth. I did n't even hear him come up beside me. He wrapped his hand with mine, and I jumped slightly. Glancing to the right of me I saw who it was and calmed. Questions begged to flow from my mouth, but I held them back. For I could ask a million questions and I would be wanting more. I've always been alone. The outcast, the isolated. I accepted that. Staring at the stars helped me accept that. Helped me to accept that we are all so imperfect. And yet we still strive to be. That's why I stopped trying to be perfect. I stopped trying to force myself to fit in, and did my best with what I had. Right now as we stand, hand in hand, there is a wordless symphony rising between us. We've talked little before this. Being only distant friends. But there always was something else. When we did talk it was common ground. When we connected, it was tough to sever. We were isolated together. As phony as it sounds, but I'd stand here for ages. I'd stand and watch creation come undone in silence with him. I'd stand and know that we are both imperfect, and that we have the courage to say so. We'll stand. ( Thanks OP for unleashing my inner feelings about the person I love, holy crap. )

<s>[INST] They held hands as they stood silent under the stars . [/INST] My heart felt pressurized. Like a heavy weight had been set upon it. I had been standing alone, gazing at the deepness of the stars. Focused on something not of this earth. I did n't even hear him come up beside me. He wrapped his hand with mine, and I jumped slightly. Glancing to the right of me I saw who it was and calmed. Questions begged to flow from my mouth, but I held them back. For I could ask a million questions and I would be wanting more. I've always been alone. The outcast, the isolated. I accepted that. Staring at the stars helped me accept that. Helped me to accept that we are all so imperfect. And yet we still strive to be. That's why I stopped trying to be perfect. I stopped trying to force myself to fit in, and did my best with what I had. Right now as we stand, hand in hand, there is a wordless symphony rising between us. We've talked little before this. Being only distant friends. But there always was something else. When we did talk it was common ground. When we connected, it was tough to sever. We were isolated together. As phony as it sounds, but I'd stand here for ages. I'd stand and watch creation come undone in silence with him. I'd stand and know that we are both imperfect, and that we have the courage to say so. We'll stand. ( Thanks OP for unleashing my inner feelings about the person I love, holy crap. ) </s>

[ WP ] A dying atheist receives a spiritual/divine/ghostly/infernal vision in the last moments of his/her life

`` This... This is your last chance, Chris'', he heard the voice in his head, as he was taking his last breath. So stern... menacing... deadly `` This is your last chance, Chris. Do you believe in god now? Your creator!''. This was real, he thought, and loud too! There was no way he was hallucinating. If he was, he would n't even be questioning it. He paused. Long silence. No answer. All his life, he was perfectly prepared for this question. All the logical contradictions. All the historic evidences. Everything was pointing to no god. But could he really say `` no'' now? Does he have the courage to? The voice sounded so... evil! And who was the voice anyway? Was n't it supposed to be darkness, followed by nothingness? Should he really say `` no'', and risk a lifetime in hell? Or say `` yes'' and admit that he was the biggest hypocrite of all time... admit that he had wasted his entire life going down the wrong path. He remained silent a bit more. What happened if he just said nothing and just died without a response, he pondered. He felt in his heart this would n't happen, though. He would remain hanging here until he gave an answer. He finally made up his mind. `` No. I do n't believe in god'', he replied. That took the last ounce of courage in him to be able to say this. `` I could go on and on, but any god that created a hell is not a god''. This seemed logical to him at the moment. Not just logical, but sufficient... a complete answer. Everything froze. No response. Long silence. What happens now? Does hell come next? Was this somehow the correct answer? He KNEW this had to be the correct answer! Suddenly, light filled up the darkness. Peaceful, and dream-like white. He heard a different voice now. `` Heh. You got it Chris. That previous voice was n't me. I never really interfere with humans' free will. Only when it is their time, that I do reveal myself. Lucifer decided to use his free will to create what you thought of was god. He wrote the Torah, the Bible, the Quran. That was never me. There is no test, no hell, no eternal punishment. The whole existence was an exercise of creating free wills''. Chris smiled, peacefully and closed his eyes. He had passed, not that it mattered, anyway.

<s>[INST] A dying atheist receives a spiritual/divine/ghostly/infernal vision in the last moments of his/her life [/INST] `` This... This is your last chance, Chris'', he heard the voice in his head, as he was taking his last breath. So stern... menacing... deadly `` This is your last chance, Chris. Do you believe in god now? Your creator!''. This was real, he thought, and loud too! There was no way he was hallucinating. If he was, he would n't even be questioning it. He paused. Long silence. No answer. All his life, he was perfectly prepared for this question. All the logical contradictions. All the historic evidences. Everything was pointing to no god. But could he really say `` no'' now? Does he have the courage to? The voice sounded so... evil! And who was the voice anyway? Was n't it supposed to be darkness, followed by nothingness? Should he really say `` no'', and risk a lifetime in hell? Or say `` yes'' and admit that he was the biggest hypocrite of all time... admit that he had wasted his entire life going down the wrong path. He remained silent a bit more. What happened if he just said nothing and just died without a response, he pondered. He felt in his heart this would n't happen, though. He would remain hanging here until he gave an answer. He finally made up his mind. `` No. I do n't believe in god'', he replied. That took the last ounce of courage in him to be able to say this. `` I could go on and on, but any god that created a hell is not a god''. This seemed logical to him at the moment. Not just logical, but sufficient... a complete answer. Everything froze. No response. Long silence. What happens now? Does hell come next? Was this somehow the correct answer? He KNEW this had to be the correct answer! Suddenly, light filled up the darkness. Peaceful, and dream-like white. He heard a different voice now. `` Heh. You got it Chris. That previous voice was n't me. I never really interfere with humans' free will. Only when it is their time, that I do reveal myself. Lucifer decided to use his free will to create what you thought of was god. He wrote the Torah, the Bible, the Quran. That was never me. There is no test, no hell, no eternal punishment. The whole existence was an exercise of creating free wills''. Chris smiled, peacefully and closed his eyes. He had passed, not that it mattered, anyway. </s>

[ WP ] The people demand that a tyrannical dictator step down . Surprisingly , he agrees peacefully , with only one request .

It had been 27 years now. Our nation lived in fear daily during the New Way. General Iso's reign held us all by our throats. He rose to power in the late 80's, bringing with him a hellfire of oppression and tyranny. Women and children too weak to work were cast out, forced to live in squalor on the cities outskirts. Men were forced into laborious jobs with little to no pay. Mostly just taking enough home to feed themselves so they did n't die of starvation during their next shift. The higher up citizens were dragged down from the metaphorical thrones. With General Iso's New Way, he brought a cult of followers, all taking the places of the most prestigious positions within the government. They confiscated weapons and evicted citizens into ghettos. With everyone locked behind the walls of the city, the crowds were easier to control. Any time a small group tried to rebel, Iso's enforcers rained fire and smoke down upon them. Tear gas filled the lungs of anyone attempting to escape or rebel, incapacitating them. So they worked in the shadows. For years a small group of people joined together, vowing to bring down Iso once and for all. And it took nearly 3 decades. They became invisible, going about their day-to-day routines, taking extreme care to not stand out. The less the guards noticed them the better. They worked jobs in the mines and in the city. Smuggling in what they could to prepare for the day of reckoning. Miners hid shovels and picks back among the piles of coal. City workers hid any tool they could get their hands on. Everything became a weapon. Soon, the rebellion would be strong enough to strike. After a long enough time, some citizens allied with enforcers who shared the same beliefs. Even the soldiers under Iso's command wanted change. Over the years the alliance grew. The two sides working together to bring a brighter future to their home. After nearly thirty years of preparation, everything was in order. They planned to strike before day break. When the morning fogs would shroud them. At once, every single rebel and soldier turned traitor struck. Like a crouching tiger with a thousand thousand claws, the rebels pounced on their oppressors. Slashing at their throats, bleeding them dry. Blood ran deep in the city streets as the traitors made their way toward the capitol building. They stormed the doors. With every hand knocking, not waiting for an answer, they tore through the threshold. Making their way up the stairs, and down hallway after hallway. Guards were at the ready, but still unprepared. The rebellion dispatched them like weeds in the grass. Finally, they were at General Iso's chambers. As the rebellion reached the final stretch, ready to splinter the doors with the force of one hundred shoulders, they slammed opened. `` WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!'' He boomed, standing in full military uniform, medals polished and gleaming in the morning sun streaming through the halls windows. `` For 27 Years you have terrorized this country, you have crippled this country and its people, so we have come to cripple you. It is time to step down.'' `` STEP DOWN, STEP DOWN!'' The rebellion chimed in unison. `` This is ill advised, and unnecessary. Though my reign has been long and somewhat unfavored, I have only sought one thing. I will step down, gladly, there is no need for violence any more. I only ask one thing.'' `` What could you possibly ask of us? You have taken everything, we have nothing left to give.'' Exasperated, the leader asked Iso. `` Nothing of material value, I assure you. I have, simply one question.'' Iso, had a slight grin. `` What is it that you must know?'' The rebellion leader asked. General Iso's grin stretched a little bit farther, and then disappeared completely. A look of distress washed over him. `` I have seen many things over the years, I have seen this once great country thrive, under my control I thought I would see it thrive more, and rise to new heights, but I became distracted. Distracted by a different sight. I have seen so *so* much, but, after all this time, I still can not see, why kids love cinnamon toast crunch... Tell me, Why do the kids love cinnamon toast crunch?''

<s>[INST] The people demand that a tyrannical dictator step down . Surprisingly , he agrees peacefully , with only one request . [/INST] It had been 27 years now. Our nation lived in fear daily during the New Way. General Iso's reign held us all by our throats. He rose to power in the late 80's, bringing with him a hellfire of oppression and tyranny. Women and children too weak to work were cast out, forced to live in squalor on the cities outskirts. Men were forced into laborious jobs with little to no pay. Mostly just taking enough home to feed themselves so they did n't die of starvation during their next shift. The higher up citizens were dragged down from the metaphorical thrones. With General Iso's New Way, he brought a cult of followers, all taking the places of the most prestigious positions within the government. They confiscated weapons and evicted citizens into ghettos. With everyone locked behind the walls of the city, the crowds were easier to control. Any time a small group tried to rebel, Iso's enforcers rained fire and smoke down upon them. Tear gas filled the lungs of anyone attempting to escape or rebel, incapacitating them. So they worked in the shadows. For years a small group of people joined together, vowing to bring down Iso once and for all. And it took nearly 3 decades. They became invisible, going about their day-to-day routines, taking extreme care to not stand out. The less the guards noticed them the better. They worked jobs in the mines and in the city. Smuggling in what they could to prepare for the day of reckoning. Miners hid shovels and picks back among the piles of coal. City workers hid any tool they could get their hands on. Everything became a weapon. Soon, the rebellion would be strong enough to strike. After a long enough time, some citizens allied with enforcers who shared the same beliefs. Even the soldiers under Iso's command wanted change. Over the years the alliance grew. The two sides working together to bring a brighter future to their home. After nearly thirty years of preparation, everything was in order. They planned to strike before day break. When the morning fogs would shroud them. At once, every single rebel and soldier turned traitor struck. Like a crouching tiger with a thousand thousand claws, the rebels pounced on their oppressors. Slashing at their throats, bleeding them dry. Blood ran deep in the city streets as the traitors made their way toward the capitol building. They stormed the doors. With every hand knocking, not waiting for an answer, they tore through the threshold. Making their way up the stairs, and down hallway after hallway. Guards were at the ready, but still unprepared. The rebellion dispatched them like weeds in the grass. Finally, they were at General Iso's chambers. As the rebellion reached the final stretch, ready to splinter the doors with the force of one hundred shoulders, they slammed opened. `` WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!'' He boomed, standing in full military uniform, medals polished and gleaming in the morning sun streaming through the halls windows. `` For 27 Years you have terrorized this country, you have crippled this country and its people, so we have come to cripple you. It is time to step down.'' `` STEP DOWN, STEP DOWN!'' The rebellion chimed in unison. `` This is ill advised, and unnecessary. Though my reign has been long and somewhat unfavored, I have only sought one thing. I will step down, gladly, there is no need for violence any more. I only ask one thing.'' `` What could you possibly ask of us? You have taken everything, we have nothing left to give.'' Exasperated, the leader asked Iso. `` Nothing of material value, I assure you. I have, simply one question.'' Iso, had a slight grin. `` What is it that you must know?'' The rebellion leader asked. General Iso's grin stretched a little bit farther, and then disappeared completely. A look of distress washed over him. `` I have seen many things over the years, I have seen this once great country thrive, under my control I thought I would see it thrive more, and rise to new heights, but I became distracted. Distracted by a different sight. I have seen so *so* much, but, after all this time, I still can not see, why kids love cinnamon toast crunch... Tell me, Why do the kids love cinnamon toast crunch?'' </s>

[ WP ] This wasteland is full of hazards but I never expected to die like this

Just after the creaking intensified and just before the water tower fell, Veronica uttered a single word that broke the silence of her watching audience: `` Shit.'' The wooden tower was simple in its design, standing upright on four legs ( obviously not strong enough to support it, Veronica thought as the tower fell towards her ). It was to collect rain-water and hold it until full, at which point citizens could open a valve and fill their containers. `` Better than pumping from a well all day,'' she remembered saying. As the tower picked up speed, Veronica felt rooted to the ground, directly in its path. It all took seconds, but in her head it felt like minutes. She looked down to the legs and saw it had sunken into the wet ground. Damn. Such an obvious problem, but she had been too excited to show the town her invention before the big rain. The wasteland was full of hazards, but she never expected to die like this. A force pushed on her left and Veronica flew to the right, out of the tower's path mere moments before it smashed into the ground. As water flooded out of the tower, Veronica looked down to see Jim lying next to her. He saved her life. Painfully, but still. Veronica looked at him and did n't speak, unsure of what to say. She let him down, let his father down, using his father's livestock to trade for the wood. She thought once it was proven to work, she could repay the man ten-fold... `` It almost worked!'' Jim yelled over the deafening sound of a huge amount of water running out of the over-turned tower. `` What?'' She pushed herself up to her feet as Jim did the same. `` It failed. Your father's sheep-'' `` Veronica,'' he interrupted. `` It failed because it could n't handle the weight. So you reinforce it. This was *good*. We just try again.'' She turned to look at the crowd and saw Mayor Redwall approach with a smile. She turned back to the tower, watching as gallons upon gallons of water flooded out. Being an inventor was confusing, Veronica thought as she forced her own smile to return the mayor's.

<s>[INST] This wasteland is full of hazards but I never expected to die like this [/INST] Just after the creaking intensified and just before the water tower fell, Veronica uttered a single word that broke the silence of her watching audience: `` Shit.'' The wooden tower was simple in its design, standing upright on four legs ( obviously not strong enough to support it, Veronica thought as the tower fell towards her ). It was to collect rain-water and hold it until full, at which point citizens could open a valve and fill their containers. `` Better than pumping from a well all day,'' she remembered saying. As the tower picked up speed, Veronica felt rooted to the ground, directly in its path. It all took seconds, but in her head it felt like minutes. She looked down to the legs and saw it had sunken into the wet ground. Damn. Such an obvious problem, but she had been too excited to show the town her invention before the big rain. The wasteland was full of hazards, but she never expected to die like this. A force pushed on her left and Veronica flew to the right, out of the tower's path mere moments before it smashed into the ground. As water flooded out of the tower, Veronica looked down to see Jim lying next to her. He saved her life. Painfully, but still. Veronica looked at him and did n't speak, unsure of what to say. She let him down, let his father down, using his father's livestock to trade for the wood. She thought once it was proven to work, she could repay the man ten-fold... `` It almost worked!'' Jim yelled over the deafening sound of a huge amount of water running out of the over-turned tower. `` What?'' She pushed herself up to her feet as Jim did the same. `` It failed. Your father's sheep-'' `` Veronica,'' he interrupted. `` It failed because it could n't handle the weight. So you reinforce it. This was *good*. We just try again.'' She turned to look at the crowd and saw Mayor Redwall approach with a smile. She turned back to the tower, watching as gallons upon gallons of water flooded out. Being an inventor was confusing, Veronica thought as she forced her own smile to return the mayor's. </s>

[ WP ] You 're a monster preying on a child . You have n't attacked because of his nightlight . Tonight , the lightbulb burned out .

To the tune of Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce ( an amazing story teller in his own right ) ____________________________________________________________ Each night while I'm stalking this child — Like days when I play with my food, I sit and enjoy like a monster watching his pray yet terrified too. His nightlight seems to last forever. His parents search all of his room. I blend, buried well like a treasure and then My skin, it lights up with the moon. But there always seems to be a night light Preventing me from doing what I want to. I've waited long enough to know That your the child I wan na sink my teeth in. I hear your mom doing dishes. Dad's snoring in the living room. The light bulb has burned out except now the door's cracked so I have to tip-toe to you. But there always seems to be a night light Preventing me from doing what I want to. I've waited long enough to know That your the child I wan na sink my teeth in. ____________________________________________________________ I know it is n't perfect, this was more of a challenge for myself than anything, I hope anyone reading it enjoys it. I may consider writing an actual story for this.

<s>[INST] You 're a monster preying on a child . You have n't attacked because of his nightlight . Tonight , the lightbulb burned out . [/INST] To the tune of Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce ( an amazing story teller in his own right ) ____________________________________________________________ Each night while I'm stalking this child — Like days when I play with my food, I sit and enjoy like a monster watching his pray yet terrified too. His nightlight seems to last forever. His parents search all of his room. I blend, buried well like a treasure and then My skin, it lights up with the moon. But there always seems to be a night light Preventing me from doing what I want to. I've waited long enough to know That your the child I wan na sink my teeth in. I hear your mom doing dishes. Dad's snoring in the living room. The light bulb has burned out except now the door's cracked so I have to tip-toe to you. But there always seems to be a night light Preventing me from doing what I want to. I've waited long enough to know That your the child I wan na sink my teeth in. ____________________________________________________________ I know it is n't perfect, this was more of a challenge for myself than anything, I hope anyone reading it enjoys it. I may consider writing an actual story for this. </s>

[ WP ] A woman , who can see the future , struggles with the fact that if she allows the love of her life to fall in love with her , they will both die tragically .

We will be together, inevitably. Fate has a sick sense of humour and so does coincidence, it seems. No matter where I go, to the store to buy milk or heading down the road to work; I see you. I always see you, though. No matter how hard I try I can ’ t seem to shake you, you ’ re like my coincidental stalker – and you don ’ t even know it. You don ’ t even know me. But I know you. I know how soft your skin is, the smell of your hair and the taste of your lips. I know all your insecurities. Your fear of dogs because you were bitten by one when you were younger, your inability to cry, the way you wear your hair when you're happy and even the way you pout when you ’ re lying. And through it all, I love you. That is what makes all this so hard. Keeping this secret has been a terrible burden, the weight of it all drags me down day after day, but I do it all because I love you. Because I don ’ t want to see you suffer, I see that enough every time I sleep. The first time I saw you I had a sudden sense of dejavu, I remember that I had seen you before; many times in fact. No matter how differently the vision panned out, the ending was always the same. You and me in each other ’ s arms, covered in blood. I am holding you, weeping as blood pools around you, soaking me and the bed in that crimson red liquid. I ’ m crying but you can ’ t hear me, how could you? You are dead. I ’ m not far off either. But before I die, the men… those animals… want to show me what a real man is. I ’ m crying harder now, begging them to stop. One of them holds the knife to my throat while the other unbuttons his pants. “ This won ’ t take long. ” He says, the stench of alcohol and piss chokes me. Another holds down my flailing arms and legs, they had already pushed your lifeless body off the bed and I turn to you. I stare at your cold dead eyes and remember the little time we had spent together. How it was the best time of my life. How I wished I could go back. To change it. Your fiery red hair lay sprawled around you and although it was caked in dried blood it still burned with that same hot ember that you did when you were alive. God I love you so much. They always end that way. No matter what I do. I tried moving states, you still managed to find me and with it; so did my premonition. I tried moving to a different country; but your mother fell mysteriously ill and you somehow found yourself near me once more. I tried telling you but before so much as a ‘ hello ’ had escaped my lips I saw us die a horrible death again and again. My bank account had suffered enough from all the constant travelling, I realised I couldn ’ t outrun this. But maybe I can delay it. Maybe I can avoid you for just long enough. I am miserable, lonely and fearful; but as long as you are happy. As long as you are alive and breathing then it will all be worth it. So I ’ m writing this now as my final farewell. Even now the visions are cloudy, changing; unpredictable. I know what I have to do. If it means that you will live, if it means that you will be happy… then so be it. Getting a gun wasn ’ t hard, in fact it was easy. The man who sold it to me almost laughed when I pointed out the one I wanted, he said that my tiny wrists would break with the recoil. After all if I ’ m going to die I might as well be able to choose what it is that delivers the final blow, right? After much debate I finally decided on one, Lord knows I can ’ t remember the details. It ’ s small and light and it will do the job. In fact, after all these years delaying the inevitable I finally feel a sense of happiness that at long last it ’ ll all be over. I am going to be free. I ’ m giddy with excitement! All this time I though the future would only end in one way, but I have the power to change that now. So farewell. Know that I love you more than anything, and that is why I am able to do this. I can only hope that if there is a Heaven, I that will see you there. And if God is so forgiving, perhaps he will forgive my one and only sin… loving another woman.

<s>[INST] A woman , who can see the future , struggles with the fact that if she allows the love of her life to fall in love with her , they will both die tragically . [/INST] We will be together, inevitably. Fate has a sick sense of humour and so does coincidence, it seems. No matter where I go, to the store to buy milk or heading down the road to work; I see you. I always see you, though. No matter how hard I try I can ’ t seem to shake you, you ’ re like my coincidental stalker – and you don ’ t even know it. You don ’ t even know me. But I know you. I know how soft your skin is, the smell of your hair and the taste of your lips. I know all your insecurities. Your fear of dogs because you were bitten by one when you were younger, your inability to cry, the way you wear your hair when you're happy and even the way you pout when you ’ re lying. And through it all, I love you. That is what makes all this so hard. Keeping this secret has been a terrible burden, the weight of it all drags me down day after day, but I do it all because I love you. Because I don ’ t want to see you suffer, I see that enough every time I sleep. The first time I saw you I had a sudden sense of dejavu, I remember that I had seen you before; many times in fact. No matter how differently the vision panned out, the ending was always the same. You and me in each other ’ s arms, covered in blood. I am holding you, weeping as blood pools around you, soaking me and the bed in that crimson red liquid. I ’ m crying but you can ’ t hear me, how could you? You are dead. I ’ m not far off either. But before I die, the men… those animals… want to show me what a real man is. I ’ m crying harder now, begging them to stop. One of them holds the knife to my throat while the other unbuttons his pants. “ This won ’ t take long. ” He says, the stench of alcohol and piss chokes me. Another holds down my flailing arms and legs, they had already pushed your lifeless body off the bed and I turn to you. I stare at your cold dead eyes and remember the little time we had spent together. How it was the best time of my life. How I wished I could go back. To change it. Your fiery red hair lay sprawled around you and although it was caked in dried blood it still burned with that same hot ember that you did when you were alive. God I love you so much. They always end that way. No matter what I do. I tried moving states, you still managed to find me and with it; so did my premonition. I tried moving to a different country; but your mother fell mysteriously ill and you somehow found yourself near me once more. I tried telling you but before so much as a ‘ hello ’ had escaped my lips I saw us die a horrible death again and again. My bank account had suffered enough from all the constant travelling, I realised I couldn ’ t outrun this. But maybe I can delay it. Maybe I can avoid you for just long enough. I am miserable, lonely and fearful; but as long as you are happy. As long as you are alive and breathing then it will all be worth it. So I ’ m writing this now as my final farewell. Even now the visions are cloudy, changing; unpredictable. I know what I have to do. If it means that you will live, if it means that you will be happy… then so be it. Getting a gun wasn ’ t hard, in fact it was easy. The man who sold it to me almost laughed when I pointed out the one I wanted, he said that my tiny wrists would break with the recoil. After all if I ’ m going to die I might as well be able to choose what it is that delivers the final blow, right? After much debate I finally decided on one, Lord knows I can ’ t remember the details. It ’ s small and light and it will do the job. In fact, after all these years delaying the inevitable I finally feel a sense of happiness that at long last it ’ ll all be over. I am going to be free. I ’ m giddy with excitement! All this time I though the future would only end in one way, but I have the power to change that now. So farewell. Know that I love you more than anything, and that is why I am able to do this. I can only hope that if there is a Heaven, I that will see you there. And if God is so forgiving, perhaps he will forgive my one and only sin… loving another woman. </s>

[ WP ] In an alternate universe , there is a maximum legal age to consume a certain substance .

First, they came for the soda-drinkers; fifteen and smiling through teeth that would soon rot. I did not speak, for I was not a drinker of soda. Then, they came for the caramel-chewers; they, for themselves, could not speak, for their developing wisdom teeth had long since become immovable. I did not speak for them, for I was not a chewer of caramels. Then, they came for the syrup-sippers; sugar glistened, nigh-forbidden on their burgeoning facial hair. I did not speak, for I was not a sipper of syrup. Then, on my fifteenth birthday, they came for me, harsh hands stealing the cotton candy from my grasp - and there was no one left to speak for me. edit: a word

<s>[INST] In an alternate universe , there is a maximum legal age to consume a certain substance . [/INST] First, they came for the soda-drinkers; fifteen and smiling through teeth that would soon rot. I did not speak, for I was not a drinker of soda. Then, they came for the caramel-chewers; they, for themselves, could not speak, for their developing wisdom teeth had long since become immovable. I did not speak for them, for I was not a chewer of caramels. Then, they came for the syrup-sippers; sugar glistened, nigh-forbidden on their burgeoning facial hair. I did not speak, for I was not a sipper of syrup. Then, on my fifteenth birthday, they came for me, harsh hands stealing the cotton candy from my grasp - and there was no one left to speak for me. edit: a word </s>

[ WP ] You are the bad guy and the bad guy wins .

I stand over yet another victim, he struggles against his bonds to no avail. Too long has he stood against me, and now his time of meddling is over. His eyes red, his face stained with tears. Behind me lies his wife and child, motionless and growing cold. He looks to my hands, dyed red by the blood of his family. He cries out in rage, or perhaps desperation... an eerily beautiful melody. I ca n't help but smile. His eyes beg for me to end him quickly, but no... I would not be satisfied. There will be no mercy, his death will come slowly. And, when I allow him to finally breathe his last and his mind conjures up some sense of hope for peace, I shall whisper to him: `` There are many ways to desecrate a corpse.''

<s>[INST] You are the bad guy and the bad guy wins . [/INST] I stand over yet another victim, he struggles against his bonds to no avail. Too long has he stood against me, and now his time of meddling is over. His eyes red, his face stained with tears. Behind me lies his wife and child, motionless and growing cold. He looks to my hands, dyed red by the blood of his family. He cries out in rage, or perhaps desperation... an eerily beautiful melody. I ca n't help but smile. His eyes beg for me to end him quickly, but no... I would not be satisfied. There will be no mercy, his death will come slowly. And, when I allow him to finally breathe his last and his mind conjures up some sense of hope for peace, I shall whisper to him: `` There are many ways to desecrate a corpse.'' </s>

[ WP ] The Safe

*Last time I saw something like `` you know what this phrase means,'' I was horribly wrong and ended up being way off topic. No, I do n't know what safe you mean. Does n't mean I wo n't write something. * -- -- - These old houses were filled with secrets. That's what got me into this salvage business. My partner, Sara, scouted the places and I financed them. The 20's were good for the line of work. Bootleggers built hidden compartments to hide bottles of their latest. Later owners found some of them, but many were left untouched. Our latest house was one Sara said we just had to buy. It had been in the news many years ago. The family had gone crazy or something, claiming they heard voices. One day, they packed up and left. The wife's body was recovered two states over. The father and kids were never found. The house was haunted according to the internet. I know that there's no such things as ghosts, so all that meant was a nice little discount. From day one, it was a home that kept on giving. The attic had all sorts of knick knacks boxed up including some jewelry. Then we started hunting for the hidden treasures. We pulled a plastic dinosaur out of a hatch by the small bedroom. The raptor did n't have feathers, so we knew it must have been old. If you knew what to look for, things like an uneven door jamb, a seam in moulding, and sections of wall that served no obvious purpose, they were easy enough to find. The frame by the cellar housed a bottle filled with something undoubtedly alcoholic. The glass was caked in black muck with no sign of a label. Neither of us were interested in cracking it open; adventure only goes so far. That bottle was history. While that period booze was off limits, our curiosity was too much when the loose sheet of drywall in the study proved to be concealing a large metal box, a safe, roughly six feet tall complete with the steering wheel handle and combination dial. Like the booze, there were signs of age. Rust dotted patches of the surface. It's almost scary how effecient Craigslist can be. Neither my partner or I knew a damned thing about safes, let alone how to open one. But with a picture of the door, we had half a dozen guys claiming they could get it open. One of the guys we had used before on another job; he was amenable to doing the job and leaving without questions. There were lower bids, but discretion was worth the extra cash. And he earned his keep. He brought some tools to break the hinges, but the old lock was easy enough for him to crack by hand. When the door swung open just enough to assure its unlocked state, Sara's eagerness was front and center as she urged me to see the guy out. This was the first safe I had seen, so my excitement matched hers. Without regard for what the locksmith might see, I pulled open the door, oblivious to my partner's objections. The interior of the door caught my attention first. As the long, chaotic scratches were unnerving, but the sensation was broken by the smell of rot. It was n't unheard of for people to dump their trash and waste and forget about it. This stench was almost as awful. There was a pile of fabric reaching halfway up. with some papers sticking out from underneath. I pulled the top garmet, a small shirt with a Superman logo. But one sleeve was stuck. As I tugged, the tiny fingers hidden under the clothes poked through. Before I could express my horror, my ears burst as the gun discharged. The locksmith fell to the ground, motionless. Sara turned the gun to me. `` Thanks for finding my brother. I really have missed him all these years.'' `` Brother?'' it still was n't registering. `` Who are you?'' `` Just a ghost, according to some.'' How could she wear that grin? She just shot a man dead. `` You killed that child in the safe?'' `` Liam? That was an accident, honest. Silly me, I forgot the combination.'' She chuckled as if she had cracked a joke. `` So then, is this what it's all been about? Finding him? Well you found him? Is n't that enough?!'' `` tsk tsk tsk. Indoor voices.'' She wiggled the gun around for emphasis. `` Yes, I forgot which house was ours. Do n't get me wrong, Evan. It's been a real hoot playing house with you these last few years, but you know what they say: family first.'' The bullet ripped through the base of my shoulder before I even saw a shot. I collapsed. As Sara dragged me into the safe, now free of the child's body and freshly loaded with that of a locksmith, she continued making conversation. My slipping consciousness made it a one-sided affair. `` My parents were worried sick about him just after, so I had to cover my tracks. Whispers in the vents were all it took to get them talking ghosts. They panicked and fled before bothering with the police. Mother got suspicious, but that was easily taken care of on the road.'' Delirious, I was only just aware that I was sitting on a corpse with the light fading as the safe door started to close. `` Sweet dreams,'' Sara cooed. With the little energy I had left, I pulled free the dinosaur figurine from my pocket, but it fell. The light became a crack, growing smaller and smaller. Then it stopped shrinking. `` What the-'' The door opened slightly to help free the toy whose head prevented the door from closing fully. The plan was to bolt, but I was too weary. All I could muster was falling forwards. I could hear the heavy door hit Sara in the head. On the hardwood floor, I saw her unconscious body sprawled by her brother's. Crawling over, inching forwards with my good arm, I fished through her pockets for her phone, dialed 9-1-1, and passed out.

<s>[INST] The Safe [/INST] *Last time I saw something like `` you know what this phrase means,'' I was horribly wrong and ended up being way off topic. No, I do n't know what safe you mean. Does n't mean I wo n't write something. * -- -- - These old houses were filled with secrets. That's what got me into this salvage business. My partner, Sara, scouted the places and I financed them. The 20's were good for the line of work. Bootleggers built hidden compartments to hide bottles of their latest. Later owners found some of them, but many were left untouched. Our latest house was one Sara said we just had to buy. It had been in the news many years ago. The family had gone crazy or something, claiming they heard voices. One day, they packed up and left. The wife's body was recovered two states over. The father and kids were never found. The house was haunted according to the internet. I know that there's no such things as ghosts, so all that meant was a nice little discount. From day one, it was a home that kept on giving. The attic had all sorts of knick knacks boxed up including some jewelry. Then we started hunting for the hidden treasures. We pulled a plastic dinosaur out of a hatch by the small bedroom. The raptor did n't have feathers, so we knew it must have been old. If you knew what to look for, things like an uneven door jamb, a seam in moulding, and sections of wall that served no obvious purpose, they were easy enough to find. The frame by the cellar housed a bottle filled with something undoubtedly alcoholic. The glass was caked in black muck with no sign of a label. Neither of us were interested in cracking it open; adventure only goes so far. That bottle was history. While that period booze was off limits, our curiosity was too much when the loose sheet of drywall in the study proved to be concealing a large metal box, a safe, roughly six feet tall complete with the steering wheel handle and combination dial. Like the booze, there were signs of age. Rust dotted patches of the surface. It's almost scary how effecient Craigslist can be. Neither my partner or I knew a damned thing about safes, let alone how to open one. But with a picture of the door, we had half a dozen guys claiming they could get it open. One of the guys we had used before on another job; he was amenable to doing the job and leaving without questions. There were lower bids, but discretion was worth the extra cash. And he earned his keep. He brought some tools to break the hinges, but the old lock was easy enough for him to crack by hand. When the door swung open just enough to assure its unlocked state, Sara's eagerness was front and center as she urged me to see the guy out. This was the first safe I had seen, so my excitement matched hers. Without regard for what the locksmith might see, I pulled open the door, oblivious to my partner's objections. The interior of the door caught my attention first. As the long, chaotic scratches were unnerving, but the sensation was broken by the smell of rot. It was n't unheard of for people to dump their trash and waste and forget about it. This stench was almost as awful. There was a pile of fabric reaching halfway up. with some papers sticking out from underneath. I pulled the top garmet, a small shirt with a Superman logo. But one sleeve was stuck. As I tugged, the tiny fingers hidden under the clothes poked through. Before I could express my horror, my ears burst as the gun discharged. The locksmith fell to the ground, motionless. Sara turned the gun to me. `` Thanks for finding my brother. I really have missed him all these years.'' `` Brother?'' it still was n't registering. `` Who are you?'' `` Just a ghost, according to some.'' How could she wear that grin? She just shot a man dead. `` You killed that child in the safe?'' `` Liam? That was an accident, honest. Silly me, I forgot the combination.'' She chuckled as if she had cracked a joke. `` So then, is this what it's all been about? Finding him? Well you found him? Is n't that enough?!'' `` tsk tsk tsk. Indoor voices.'' She wiggled the gun around for emphasis. `` Yes, I forgot which house was ours. Do n't get me wrong, Evan. It's been a real hoot playing house with you these last few years, but you know what they say: family first.'' The bullet ripped through the base of my shoulder before I even saw a shot. I collapsed. As Sara dragged me into the safe, now free of the child's body and freshly loaded with that of a locksmith, she continued making conversation. My slipping consciousness made it a one-sided affair. `` My parents were worried sick about him just after, so I had to cover my tracks. Whispers in the vents were all it took to get them talking ghosts. They panicked and fled before bothering with the police. Mother got suspicious, but that was easily taken care of on the road.'' Delirious, I was only just aware that I was sitting on a corpse with the light fading as the safe door started to close. `` Sweet dreams,'' Sara cooed. With the little energy I had left, I pulled free the dinosaur figurine from my pocket, but it fell. The light became a crack, growing smaller and smaller. Then it stopped shrinking. `` What the-'' The door opened slightly to help free the toy whose head prevented the door from closing fully. The plan was to bolt, but I was too weary. All I could muster was falling forwards. I could hear the heavy door hit Sara in the head. On the hardwood floor, I saw her unconscious body sprawled by her brother's. Crawling over, inching forwards with my good arm, I fished through her pockets for her phone, dialed 9-1-1, and passed out. </s>

[ WP ] Science has found the key to immortality , but there 's a catch : it can only be administered at birth . You are a member of the last mortal generation .

Growing up as the first mortal child in generations should have been difficult, but it was not. I was given the best teachers, the best doctors, the best care any child could have been given. All sponsored by a government who felt the need to treasure and preserve the last mortal there ever would be. They threw parades for me and sponsored philosophers and scientists to discuss the implications of my existence on global television. When I was young, before I knew death, I thought I was the luckiest person alive. I had every object of desire a young person could ever want and every need was cared for before I was aware there was a need. But that was before I saw him. He was like nothing I had ever seen before. Whereas before I had only ever seen the perfect suppleness of young flesh and muscle before me now was an antithesis; a simultaneous tautness and looseness of flesh stapled across a frame vacant of even a flicker of light. He was not like the corpse of an eternally young vessel; preserved for all time, an embodiment of both life and death. What I saw that day was a mockery of both; life prolonged but not preserved, death ’ s smile visible behind ancient flesh.

<s>[INST] Science has found the key to immortality , but there 's a catch : it can only be administered at birth . You are a member of the last mortal generation . [/INST] Growing up as the first mortal child in generations should have been difficult, but it was not. I was given the best teachers, the best doctors, the best care any child could have been given. All sponsored by a government who felt the need to treasure and preserve the last mortal there ever would be. They threw parades for me and sponsored philosophers and scientists to discuss the implications of my existence on global television. When I was young, before I knew death, I thought I was the luckiest person alive. I had every object of desire a young person could ever want and every need was cared for before I was aware there was a need. But that was before I saw him. He was like nothing I had ever seen before. Whereas before I had only ever seen the perfect suppleness of young flesh and muscle before me now was an antithesis; a simultaneous tautness and looseness of flesh stapled across a frame vacant of even a flicker of light. He was not like the corpse of an eternally young vessel; preserved for all time, an embodiment of both life and death. What I saw that day was a mockery of both; life prolonged but not preserved, death ’ s smile visible behind ancient flesh. </s>

[ WP ] You 're a State Farm agent and are often summoned by your clients to reassure them in their time of need , usually through the jingle . One day , you are summoned by two people at the same time .

I heard rumors about the State Farm Hyperverse, but I always brushed those off as nothing more than scary stories usually shared with new agents. They never referred to it by name during training, why would they? It was never a place we would visit, just a place we would pass through on our way to a call, just a fraction of a second. They never got into the science of things, or how it worked, it just did and as far as we knew everything was and has always been safe. State Farm had been using this method of customer interaction since the early 80's, and during that time they became the largest private home, auto and life insurer in the world. Never the less my curiosity was peaked and I asked one of our trainers if anyone had been ever lost on way to a call. He laughed and said `` it's just simply never happened, I do n't know how it could.'' I'll tell you how, two customers calling for you at once, that's how. The chances of this happening are astronomical of course. You hear about agents getting transported to another call while in the middle of a call every now and then, but it happens like once a year rare. 13 million worldwide agents each insuring a couple hundred clients a piece, most of who they'll never hear from again after the initial contract signing. But somehow two clients managed to call on me at the same time. I still do n't know who summoned me, or why. All I know is I'm here in this white void of space. There's a floor, it's white. There's no walls, or ceilings, just white. I spend days walking in what I think is a straight line, but could've just as easily been a circle. At this point I know death is near. I'm mentally and physically exhausted. I have n't eaten, or drank or slept in god knows how long. I miss my kids, and my wife. I'm waiting for the next breath not to come, and to finally know peace. I hear music. Off in the distance, but I can hear it. Likely a hallucination brought on by extreme fatigue, but still I walk towards what I believe the source to be. There in the middle of nowhere, in the white void, was a bar. With the last of my energy I sprinted towards the bar. Best case scenario, it's a bar and they'll have water and food. Worst case scenario, it's a hallucination and I'll die from the exhaustion. As I get closer I notice two figures at the bar. One standing behind the bar minding to the glasses, and one sitting at it. `` It ca n't be a hallucination'' I say to myself as the smell of beer and pub cheese fills my nostrils. When I step up to the bar and notice the man sitting at the end of the bar is actually a caveman. `` That's odd'', I thought, when I saw the bartender turn to talk to me. `` Can I get you something.'' She asked. She was a pale skinned woman with jet black hair and red lipstick. She wore a white apron over a white blouse and slacks. I leaned in to read her name tag. `` Flo, I need help.''

<s>[INST] You 're a State Farm agent and are often summoned by your clients to reassure them in their time of need , usually through the jingle . One day , you are summoned by two people at the same time . [/INST] I heard rumors about the State Farm Hyperverse, but I always brushed those off as nothing more than scary stories usually shared with new agents. They never referred to it by name during training, why would they? It was never a place we would visit, just a place we would pass through on our way to a call, just a fraction of a second. They never got into the science of things, or how it worked, it just did and as far as we knew everything was and has always been safe. State Farm had been using this method of customer interaction since the early 80's, and during that time they became the largest private home, auto and life insurer in the world. Never the less my curiosity was peaked and I asked one of our trainers if anyone had been ever lost on way to a call. He laughed and said `` it's just simply never happened, I do n't know how it could.'' I'll tell you how, two customers calling for you at once, that's how. The chances of this happening are astronomical of course. You hear about agents getting transported to another call while in the middle of a call every now and then, but it happens like once a year rare. 13 million worldwide agents each insuring a couple hundred clients a piece, most of who they'll never hear from again after the initial contract signing. But somehow two clients managed to call on me at the same time. I still do n't know who summoned me, or why. All I know is I'm here in this white void of space. There's a floor, it's white. There's no walls, or ceilings, just white. I spend days walking in what I think is a straight line, but could've just as easily been a circle. At this point I know death is near. I'm mentally and physically exhausted. I have n't eaten, or drank or slept in god knows how long. I miss my kids, and my wife. I'm waiting for the next breath not to come, and to finally know peace. I hear music. Off in the distance, but I can hear it. Likely a hallucination brought on by extreme fatigue, but still I walk towards what I believe the source to be. There in the middle of nowhere, in the white void, was a bar. With the last of my energy I sprinted towards the bar. Best case scenario, it's a bar and they'll have water and food. Worst case scenario, it's a hallucination and I'll die from the exhaustion. As I get closer I notice two figures at the bar. One standing behind the bar minding to the glasses, and one sitting at it. `` It ca n't be a hallucination'' I say to myself as the smell of beer and pub cheese fills my nostrils. When I step up to the bar and notice the man sitting at the end of the bar is actually a caveman. `` That's odd'', I thought, when I saw the bartender turn to talk to me. `` Can I get you something.'' She asked. She was a pale skinned woman with jet black hair and red lipstick. She wore a white apron over a white blouse and slacks. I leaned in to read her name tag. `` Flo, I need help.'' </s>

[ WP ] A clumsy killer tries desparately to kill his victim .

“ Oops, ” said Simon. The cleaver had slipped out of his hand - he could always barely control his trembles, much less his sweat - and fell into the girl ’ s strapped arm. “ Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh-aah-aah. Aaaahhhhhh!! ” she screamed. Simon looked around alarmingly, searching the floor for - for what? There was nothing there to help him. “ I ’ m - uhm - sorry, one - uhm... ” From a trained professional, Simon ’ s performance would have been regarded as truly exceptional psychological torture. As such, he was merely bumbling around, trying his best to keep calm and bring this girl to a quick death. “ Uhm... ” he wasn ’ t sure if it was better to take the cleaver out or leave it. Which is more painful? He thought about it for a moment, and then decided that, were he being killed by a hitman, he would prefer his last visions of life to not include a butcher ’ s knife buried into his arm. He reached down and hapharzardly pulled the thing out. The girl ’ s screaming reached dizzying degrees of pitch and volume. He looked for a moment at the gaping arm and the gushing blood, and pondered that perhaps this had not been a good choice. Best now to make things quick. “ I ’ m sorry about this, ” he tried saying over her screams. “ The boss hands it down and I got ta do... ” he sighed and wondered if she even heard him. “ Listen, lady, it ’ s just - you know - my job. I don ’ t mean to... oh, fuck it. ” He could not, at this moment, remember what was the point of leaving his gun. Somehow he got it in his mind that it sent a more powerful message to do this kind of thing slowly and dramatically. But while often called slow, Simon had never in his life been called “ dramatic. ” Or “ theatrical. ” Hesitatingly, he pushed the knife to her throat and tried to squeeze in some last evocative words before offing her. “ * ahem * Uhm. You know, ( his voice lowered a few tones and took on some gangster bravada ) you try to catch the king, and - wait - you should always count... your... gods? Dammit... ” He raised his eyes to the ceiling, like he always did when embarassed, and muttered to himself to find his epic last words catch phrase. Unfortunately, he didn ’ t notice that in between sobs and cries, the girl had freed her foot from his loose binding and presently was able to land a hard kick on his inflated right ankle. Normally this wouldn ’ t matter, but her blood was greasing the floor, and in one swift motion Simon was down. “ Ooohhh... ” The warehouse was a sad mix of cries and struggles to be free ( intermixed with kicking at the now downed captor ) and moans of pain from Simon. He lifted his head, breathed out heavily, and dropped it back to the floor. A few hours later, as he came to with a gun and badge in his face, he wondered at the merits of being a hitman in this day and age. “ Perhaps my skill set, ” he thought to himself as they roughly mirandized him and shoved his head down into the car, “ will be better utilized in prison. I ’ ve always wanted to be a librarian. ”

<s>[INST] A clumsy killer tries desparately to kill his victim . [/INST] “ Oops, ” said Simon. The cleaver had slipped out of his hand - he could always barely control his trembles, much less his sweat - and fell into the girl ’ s strapped arm. “ Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh-aah-aah. Aaaahhhhhh!! ” she screamed. Simon looked around alarmingly, searching the floor for - for what? There was nothing there to help him. “ I ’ m - uhm - sorry, one - uhm... ” From a trained professional, Simon ’ s performance would have been regarded as truly exceptional psychological torture. As such, he was merely bumbling around, trying his best to keep calm and bring this girl to a quick death. “ Uhm... ” he wasn ’ t sure if it was better to take the cleaver out or leave it. Which is more painful? He thought about it for a moment, and then decided that, were he being killed by a hitman, he would prefer his last visions of life to not include a butcher ’ s knife buried into his arm. He reached down and hapharzardly pulled the thing out. The girl ’ s screaming reached dizzying degrees of pitch and volume. He looked for a moment at the gaping arm and the gushing blood, and pondered that perhaps this had not been a good choice. Best now to make things quick. “ I ’ m sorry about this, ” he tried saying over her screams. “ The boss hands it down and I got ta do... ” he sighed and wondered if she even heard him. “ Listen, lady, it ’ s just - you know - my job. I don ’ t mean to... oh, fuck it. ” He could not, at this moment, remember what was the point of leaving his gun. Somehow he got it in his mind that it sent a more powerful message to do this kind of thing slowly and dramatically. But while often called slow, Simon had never in his life been called “ dramatic. ” Or “ theatrical. ” Hesitatingly, he pushed the knife to her throat and tried to squeeze in some last evocative words before offing her. “ * ahem * Uhm. You know, ( his voice lowered a few tones and took on some gangster bravada ) you try to catch the king, and - wait - you should always count... your... gods? Dammit... ” He raised his eyes to the ceiling, like he always did when embarassed, and muttered to himself to find his epic last words catch phrase. Unfortunately, he didn ’ t notice that in between sobs and cries, the girl had freed her foot from his loose binding and presently was able to land a hard kick on his inflated right ankle. Normally this wouldn ’ t matter, but her blood was greasing the floor, and in one swift motion Simon was down. “ Ooohhh... ” The warehouse was a sad mix of cries and struggles to be free ( intermixed with kicking at the now downed captor ) and moans of pain from Simon. He lifted his head, breathed out heavily, and dropped it back to the floor. A few hours later, as he came to with a gun and badge in his face, he wondered at the merits of being a hitman in this day and age. “ Perhaps my skill set, ” he thought to himself as they roughly mirandized him and shoved his head down into the car, “ will be better utilized in prison. I ’ ve always wanted to be a librarian. ” </s>

[ WP ] `` We 're the good guys , right ? ''

`` Let me ask you somethin', squirt. When you look at them, what do you see?'' `` They're rebels. They're destabilizing the country. They've killed innocent people.'' `` Ok, sounds good. Now look at us. What do you see?'' `` A... a band of soldiers trying to do the right thing'' `` Egh, you never told me you had morals like this, squirt. Let me tell you what they see when look at us. A bunch of invaders, here to kill the people who may or may not be fully with them but are slighlty less bad than us, maybe.'' `` I do n't think I understand, sir.'' `` Have you ever wondered what the families of the people we killed think of us? We're monsters to them. We killed the kin they grew up with. The people they cherished in times of hardship. We're not heroes to'em. We're the bad guys to'em. And what does that mean? People who kill eachother for whatever reason are n't fully good, squirt. Good guys take care of their kids, elders and loved ones. The ones who do their best everyday to get by without getting anyone harmed and with the best intentions. Newsflash, squirt. You do n't find these guys on the battlefield.'' `` They were farmers once.'' `` Till our glorious leaders came and decided they had to change. They disagreed. Now blood is on everyone's hands. The world is n't good to us, squirt. It ai n't black and white. People offer perspective, perspective makes good and evil, and it's all bullshit. Welcome to the *real* world, squirt. Have a drink, makes the bad thoughts go away.''

<s>[INST] `` We 're the good guys , right ? '' [/INST] `` Let me ask you somethin', squirt. When you look at them, what do you see?'' `` They're rebels. They're destabilizing the country. They've killed innocent people.'' `` Ok, sounds good. Now look at us. What do you see?'' `` A... a band of soldiers trying to do the right thing'' `` Egh, you never told me you had morals like this, squirt. Let me tell you what they see when look at us. A bunch of invaders, here to kill the people who may or may not be fully with them but are slighlty less bad than us, maybe.'' `` I do n't think I understand, sir.'' `` Have you ever wondered what the families of the people we killed think of us? We're monsters to them. We killed the kin they grew up with. The people they cherished in times of hardship. We're not heroes to'em. We're the bad guys to'em. And what does that mean? People who kill eachother for whatever reason are n't fully good, squirt. Good guys take care of their kids, elders and loved ones. The ones who do their best everyday to get by without getting anyone harmed and with the best intentions. Newsflash, squirt. You do n't find these guys on the battlefield.'' `` They were farmers once.'' `` Till our glorious leaders came and decided they had to change. They disagreed. Now blood is on everyone's hands. The world is n't good to us, squirt. It ai n't black and white. People offer perspective, perspective makes good and evil, and it's all bullshit. Welcome to the *real* world, squirt. Have a drink, makes the bad thoughts go away.'' </s>

[ TT ] When you die , you are taken to a leaderboard showing all of the stats of your life , such as how many people have loved you , how many people hated you , etc . As you look at your scores , you begin to notice one of the numbers is increasing .

The board, it's very impressive. Lots of people are staring at it. There's an audience. It's weird to see a life summarized like this. It's fascinating. The system required to track all these variables for every living thing must be amazing. Then I notice some movement. I'm dead so my leaderboard should be static right? It's one of the small-print numbers and it's cranking up steadily. As I lean in I hear the familiar braying laugh of my old college roommate Paul. I heard he died some years back, but you never forget that laugh. I practically have to press my nose to the panel to read the label text. `` Gullibility''. `` Fuck you Paul!'' I laugh as I turn into his friendly hug; the afterlife is going to be a blast!

<s>[INST] [ TT ] When you die , you are taken to a leaderboard showing all of the stats of your life , such as how many people have loved you , how many people hated you , etc . As you look at your scores , you begin to notice one of the numbers is increasing . [/INST] The board, it's very impressive. Lots of people are staring at it. There's an audience. It's weird to see a life summarized like this. It's fascinating. The system required to track all these variables for every living thing must be amazing. Then I notice some movement. I'm dead so my leaderboard should be static right? It's one of the small-print numbers and it's cranking up steadily. As I lean in I hear the familiar braying laugh of my old college roommate Paul. I heard he died some years back, but you never forget that laugh. I practically have to press my nose to the panel to read the label text. `` Gullibility''. `` Fuck you Paul!'' I laugh as I turn into his friendly hug; the afterlife is going to be a blast! </s>

[ WP ] Write about living in a world where everyone can only have one kiss their entire lives .

It was dark and Oliver was quietly thumbing through a photo album. There was one empty sleeve which, after studying his surroundings, Oliver filled with a photo of a dark skinned man in a suit. The man was like the others in two ways: He was a man and he had used his one legally allowed kiss on Oliver. Another full book, thought Oliver, clapping shut the binder. With a long exhale, he collapsed backwards onto his couch and closed his eyes. For a moment, his mind was filled with faces and he began mumbling numbers: `` One, that's twenty. Three twenty, sixty. Sixty-five. Plus ten, seventy-five.'' Seventy-five, Oliver thought. Alexander Dignam was killed for ten but I ca n't stop. I've taken seventy-five lovestruck kisses from seventy-five love-needing men who I will never see again. `` Do you know what this means? This kiss?'' they would say. In school they taught us `` A kiss is a marriage, a marriage is once and forever, a kiss is forever.'' So then: Forever and ever and ever these men married a collector. Oliver smiled and reveled in finishing another book. Then he sighed and covered his face. He knew what they would do to him. He imagined himself standing vulnerable in the gaze of a judge, his hands tied in the front, and the whole world watching and waiting. Evidence would be presented: The photo albums, the scrapbooks, the eye-witnesses. And then it would end on the range with rifles aimed from twenty yards at his face. These thoughts made Oliver feel frail, like he was made out of glass, like one wrong move and he would be shattered. His parents would deny him, seventy-five men would never forget. He would have no funeral, be read no rites. His name on the page of the paper would be next to `` Enemy of the State,'' or `` Serial Kisser,'' or `` Heretic.'' This sent a twinge through his nerves and stiffened all the tiny hairs that glazed his body. Adrenaline pushed through every muscle of his body as he lay there on the couch soaking in the gravity of what he had become until the quiet night brought him to a dream. `` Olly,'' said a voice. `` Hey, wake up.'' Oliver rolled over and was greeted by a beautiful young face. `` Wake up,'' she said again. `` I'm up, I'm up,'' replied Oliver. `` I wan na talk.'' `` Sh— sure. Sure. About what?'' `` I'm ready.'' `` I'm Oliver, nice to meet you.'' `` Shut up. I'm serious.'' `` Okay okay, what?'' `` I want to kiss.'' `` …Sylvia…'' `` Stop. Listen to me. I ca n't imagine myself with anybody else. Yes, I know what this means, but that's why I want to do it. I do n't want to kiss anybody else. I want to kiss you. They only give us one and mine is for you.'' `` But…'' `` But what?'' `` It's just.'' `` Do n't you love me?'' `` Syl. You know I love you. More than anything.'' `` What then?'' `` It's just I'm… I think I might be.'' `` Gay?'' This word shot pangs of fear through Oliver's body and halted his breath. `` Oliver?'' prodded Sylvia. `` No, not that.'' `` Then what?'' `` It's… my breath, it's horrid.'' Sylvia pushed him. `` Fucking kiss me.'' And he did, and as he did, he felt nothing, and the narrative of the rest of his life up until his seventy-fifth victim replayed before him until he stirred awake sweating.

<s>[INST] Write about living in a world where everyone can only have one kiss their entire lives . [/INST] It was dark and Oliver was quietly thumbing through a photo album. There was one empty sleeve which, after studying his surroundings, Oliver filled with a photo of a dark skinned man in a suit. The man was like the others in two ways: He was a man and he had used his one legally allowed kiss on Oliver. Another full book, thought Oliver, clapping shut the binder. With a long exhale, he collapsed backwards onto his couch and closed his eyes. For a moment, his mind was filled with faces and he began mumbling numbers: `` One, that's twenty. Three twenty, sixty. Sixty-five. Plus ten, seventy-five.'' Seventy-five, Oliver thought. Alexander Dignam was killed for ten but I ca n't stop. I've taken seventy-five lovestruck kisses from seventy-five love-needing men who I will never see again. `` Do you know what this means? This kiss?'' they would say. In school they taught us `` A kiss is a marriage, a marriage is once and forever, a kiss is forever.'' So then: Forever and ever and ever these men married a collector. Oliver smiled and reveled in finishing another book. Then he sighed and covered his face. He knew what they would do to him. He imagined himself standing vulnerable in the gaze of a judge, his hands tied in the front, and the whole world watching and waiting. Evidence would be presented: The photo albums, the scrapbooks, the eye-witnesses. And then it would end on the range with rifles aimed from twenty yards at his face. These thoughts made Oliver feel frail, like he was made out of glass, like one wrong move and he would be shattered. His parents would deny him, seventy-five men would never forget. He would have no funeral, be read no rites. His name on the page of the paper would be next to `` Enemy of the State,'' or `` Serial Kisser,'' or `` Heretic.'' This sent a twinge through his nerves and stiffened all the tiny hairs that glazed his body. Adrenaline pushed through every muscle of his body as he lay there on the couch soaking in the gravity of what he had become until the quiet night brought him to a dream. `` Olly,'' said a voice. `` Hey, wake up.'' Oliver rolled over and was greeted by a beautiful young face. `` Wake up,'' she said again. `` I'm up, I'm up,'' replied Oliver. `` I wan na talk.'' `` Sh— sure. Sure. About what?'' `` I'm ready.'' `` I'm Oliver, nice to meet you.'' `` Shut up. I'm serious.'' `` Okay okay, what?'' `` I want to kiss.'' `` …Sylvia…'' `` Stop. Listen to me. I ca n't imagine myself with anybody else. Yes, I know what this means, but that's why I want to do it. I do n't want to kiss anybody else. I want to kiss you. They only give us one and mine is for you.'' `` But…'' `` But what?'' `` It's just.'' `` Do n't you love me?'' `` Syl. You know I love you. More than anything.'' `` What then?'' `` It's just I'm… I think I might be.'' `` Gay?'' This word shot pangs of fear through Oliver's body and halted his breath. `` Oliver?'' prodded Sylvia. `` No, not that.'' `` Then what?'' `` It's… my breath, it's horrid.'' Sylvia pushed him. `` Fucking kiss me.'' And he did, and as he did, he felt nothing, and the narrative of the rest of his life up until his seventy-fifth victim replayed before him until he stirred awake sweating. </s>

[ WP ] Ridiculously boring

Marge walked from one and of the hallway to the other. Step. Step. The sound echoed. Nearer and nearer the other side of the hallway got. Her eyes were fixated on what was on the other side. Closer and closer the other side of the hallway came. It invited her in, like a tongue inviting a fly to come into a beak. She could hear her own breath, as she could feel the blood rushing to her ears. One by one she passed the windows on either side, the light of day hurting her eyes as it came rushing in. Step. Step. The sound changed, growing louder as she picked up pace. The windows came floating by. One by one. There were no noises, all lay quiet, the city hold its breath during these unusually hot summer's days. As she neared the end of the hallway, shadows drew up on her. Again the sound of her footsteps changed, being muffled by the architecture of the old building around her. Then she finally reached the end of the hallway. She opened the door. And left this part of the building behind her...

<s>[INST] Ridiculously boring [/INST] Marge walked from one and of the hallway to the other. Step. Step. The sound echoed. Nearer and nearer the other side of the hallway got. Her eyes were fixated on what was on the other side. Closer and closer the other side of the hallway came. It invited her in, like a tongue inviting a fly to come into a beak. She could hear her own breath, as she could feel the blood rushing to her ears. One by one she passed the windows on either side, the light of day hurting her eyes as it came rushing in. Step. Step. The sound changed, growing louder as she picked up pace. The windows came floating by. One by one. There were no noises, all lay quiet, the city hold its breath during these unusually hot summer's days. As she neared the end of the hallway, shadows drew up on her. Again the sound of her footsteps changed, being muffled by the architecture of the old building around her. Then she finally reached the end of the hallway. She opened the door. And left this part of the building behind her... </s>

[ WP ] Someone Comes Across A Crystal That Beckons Them to Free Them From Their Prison .

John was hiking through the dense woods, he liked to go off the trail to explore but always was able to find the way back, he knew these woods fairly well. He thought he saw something in the distance that glimmered like a diamond. He went towards the glimmer and soon came across a beautiful crystal, several feet high and wide. The great crystal protruded from the ground vertically. John stopped a moment to admire the crystal and pondered where it had come from and why it was here. Suddenly, the crystal spoke in a shrill panicked tone, *'' I sense, I sense a presence, who goes there? Another woodland creature? No, bigger, the soul that lives on even after death, answer! answer! `` * John was startled, but soon found the composure to answer, `` It's not an animal, I'm John, who are you?'' The Crystal answered him, *'' I am a prisoner, prisoner of this crystal, I need a chosen to release me, release me, I've been here for centuries! `` * John cocked his head, `` Chosen?'' The Prisoner in the Crystal answered, *'' Yes, yes, chosen, one of God's chosen, bearer of the Holy Spirit, release me! `` * John returned his head to an upright position, `` Are you, an angel?'' The Prisoner answered, *'' Yes, yes, an angel, one of the highest ranked there are and you must free me, quickly, quickly! `` * John questioned further, `` How?'' The Prisoner explained, *'' Put your hand on my prison, this is a sign of your acceptance to let me go, do it now, now, now! `` * John complied, as he did not know what else to do, and he knew angels were good, right? He put his hand on the crystal, and suddenly it began to glow with a bright light and John felt his hand unable to move and a powerful energy flowed through his body. The feeling faded, and then the crystal dissipated into thin air and the prisoner flew a few feet above and cried out, *'' Free! Free at last, a thousand years of the abyss, the abyss, now I shall wreak my vengeance upon Heaven and Earth! `` * And thus, a revelation was fulfilled, and John sat in awe.

<s>[INST] Someone Comes Across A Crystal That Beckons Them to Free Them From Their Prison . [/INST] John was hiking through the dense woods, he liked to go off the trail to explore but always was able to find the way back, he knew these woods fairly well. He thought he saw something in the distance that glimmered like a diamond. He went towards the glimmer and soon came across a beautiful crystal, several feet high and wide. The great crystal protruded from the ground vertically. John stopped a moment to admire the crystal and pondered where it had come from and why it was here. Suddenly, the crystal spoke in a shrill panicked tone, *'' I sense, I sense a presence, who goes there? Another woodland creature? No, bigger, the soul that lives on even after death, answer! answer! `` * John was startled, but soon found the composure to answer, `` It's not an animal, I'm John, who are you?'' The Crystal answered him, *'' I am a prisoner, prisoner of this crystal, I need a chosen to release me, release me, I've been here for centuries! `` * John cocked his head, `` Chosen?'' The Prisoner in the Crystal answered, *'' Yes, yes, chosen, one of God's chosen, bearer of the Holy Spirit, release me! `` * John returned his head to an upright position, `` Are you, an angel?'' The Prisoner answered, *'' Yes, yes, an angel, one of the highest ranked there are and you must free me, quickly, quickly! `` * John questioned further, `` How?'' The Prisoner explained, *'' Put your hand on my prison, this is a sign of your acceptance to let me go, do it now, now, now! `` * John complied, as he did not know what else to do, and he knew angels were good, right? He put his hand on the crystal, and suddenly it began to glow with a bright light and John felt his hand unable to move and a powerful energy flowed through his body. The feeling faded, and then the crystal dissipated into thin air and the prisoner flew a few feet above and cried out, *'' Free! Free at last, a thousand years of the abyss, the abyss, now I shall wreak my vengeance upon Heaven and Earth! `` * And thus, a revelation was fulfilled, and John sat in awe. </s>

[ WP ] After giving a sermon to the masses , Jesus leaves them to sleep in the middle of the night . You follow Jesus secretly to a clearing . He 's staring up into the sky . You make a noise . Panicked , he looks at you and says , `` You 're not supposed to be here for this ... ''

At the twelfth watch I did approach the Lord, silent in the darkness `` Thou are not meant to be here,'' he spoke without looking at me. But anger did sit upon my blood and I thirsted for knowledge. `` I am.'' I spoke. His countenance fell. `` We are dry fruit; thou art a dry vine. We will cut thee off that we may bring forth seed upon the earth. Money have we none, power have we none, and we turn our backs on those who do. Such things ought not to happen to the messengers of the Father.'' His eyes are troubled. `` I have no power, save what the Father giveth me. These have only power in their fathers, whose bones lie in the earth.'' His visage is sorrowful. But my bones are black upon me. I swore in my wrath I would destroy him. `` He is Father of us all; why then will he favour thee over any other? By what reasoning should we call thee blessed when thy doctrine is polluted by whores and publicans? Thou art not a true son. Thou art prodigal.'' `` Nay, thy pride hast become thy blindness. Thou art in the grasp of the prince of the power of the air, and he hath grasped thee round the throat. Thou shouldst be with the others; these with thee would have come by and by. Return, and thou shalt not perish.'' His eyes are pleading. `` Sup with me in the mansion of my Father.'' I canst not bear longer, for rage and shame have filled my bowels. He is the kindest man I have known, and so must be the weakest. And for this I kiss him, giving the sign. As the soldiers and servants bind him, he whispers to me, `` Judas, betrayest thou the Son of Man with a kiss?'' My regret is as the sands of Egypt and hungry as Leviathan. As they lead him away, I think on how it will devour me.

<s>[INST] After giving a sermon to the masses , Jesus leaves them to sleep in the middle of the night . You follow Jesus secretly to a clearing . He 's staring up into the sky . You make a noise . Panicked , he looks at you and says , `` You 're not supposed to be here for this ... '' [/INST] At the twelfth watch I did approach the Lord, silent in the darkness `` Thou are not meant to be here,'' he spoke without looking at me. But anger did sit upon my blood and I thirsted for knowledge. `` I am.'' I spoke. His countenance fell. `` We are dry fruit; thou art a dry vine. We will cut thee off that we may bring forth seed upon the earth. Money have we none, power have we none, and we turn our backs on those who do. Such things ought not to happen to the messengers of the Father.'' His eyes are troubled. `` I have no power, save what the Father giveth me. These have only power in their fathers, whose bones lie in the earth.'' His visage is sorrowful. But my bones are black upon me. I swore in my wrath I would destroy him. `` He is Father of us all; why then will he favour thee over any other? By what reasoning should we call thee blessed when thy doctrine is polluted by whores and publicans? Thou art not a true son. Thou art prodigal.'' `` Nay, thy pride hast become thy blindness. Thou art in the grasp of the prince of the power of the air, and he hath grasped thee round the throat. Thou shouldst be with the others; these with thee would have come by and by. Return, and thou shalt not perish.'' His eyes are pleading. `` Sup with me in the mansion of my Father.'' I canst not bear longer, for rage and shame have filled my bowels. He is the kindest man I have known, and so must be the weakest. And for this I kiss him, giving the sign. As the soldiers and servants bind him, he whispers to me, `` Judas, betrayest thou the Son of Man with a kiss?'' My regret is as the sands of Egypt and hungry as Leviathan. As they lead him away, I think on how it will devour me. </s>

[ WP ] High fantasy world that has advanced into a technological age .

The First Dragonrider was upset. First, the kobold outbreak in the cellar had damaged the Mana Transformer and caused a power outage. Then, at noon, Melrichus learned that some filthy gnomes had hacked his MenMeetElves.com profile and had leaked it on the InterPlanetnet. Soon, the whole Realm of Alnaeth would know about the lewd messages he sent to High Priestress Eftanaël... And now, when he thought it could n't be a worse Delthor-day, he was convoked by the High-Emperor of Alnaeth. His plan of spending a quite day with his dragon, Alarax, was ruined and he did n't see any day in the near future where he would have the time. Tomorrow, he had that quest in Alren that would at least take a week. Then, he had to eradicate the Elvish saboteurs at the D & D Simulation centre of Halberon. This had been pushed back too many times and needed to be done as soon as possible. After that, it would be the next season of dragonriding and he absolutely needed to train if he did n't want to be kicked out of the team. Melrichus did n't think they would dare to kick the First Dragonrider of Alnaeth but he could n't be sure. Plus, Dragonbowl was in less than two months and he did n't want to bring shame upon his name. As he walked towards he dragon stables he issued orders to his servants through the phone built in his enchanted bracelet. The ruby glowed as the worried voice of the goblin Head Majordome answered that the winecellar he wanted to buy had been sold this morning. His ultralight nanotube armor came flying from the armoury by the press of a button on his bracelet. In a few seconds, all the golden armour parts attached themselves to his body. His winged helmet kept flying above him. Alarax was found bathing in the waterfall, being massaged by the two brandnew mechanical arms he had installed on the dragon for its birthday. `` I do n't care bro, that Elf is n't going to interrupt my bath. Find another hobby here at home or buy one of these flying metal ships but I am not going to work on Delthor-day.'' Dragons and dragonriders could speak through a neurological implant connected by Redtooth. `` Today's not the day. Believe me, my day was also ruined. So, please, do n't be annoying'' `` Ai n't gon na happen'' `` You do n't have anything to say about it, it's an imperial convocation. Now get out of the water!'' `` Come on! You know my flight-assisting boosters are being repaired! Fuck the emperor!'' `` Technology has made you so lazy. And I cant refuse an imperial convocation.'' Alarax reluctantly came out of the water and let his rider mount him. As the dragon flew towards a setting sun, Melrichus yelled at his bracelet. `` AND DO N'T FORGET TO CALL THOSE DAMN DWARVEN MAGENGINEERS FROM MANATECH! IF THE TRANSFORMER DOES N'T GET REPAIRED SOON, THE WHOLE ISLAND WILL CRASH DOWN!''

<s>[INST] High fantasy world that has advanced into a technological age . [/INST] The First Dragonrider was upset. First, the kobold outbreak in the cellar had damaged the Mana Transformer and caused a power outage. Then, at noon, Melrichus learned that some filthy gnomes had hacked his MenMeetElves.com profile and had leaked it on the InterPlanetnet. Soon, the whole Realm of Alnaeth would know about the lewd messages he sent to High Priestress Eftanaël... And now, when he thought it could n't be a worse Delthor-day, he was convoked by the High-Emperor of Alnaeth. His plan of spending a quite day with his dragon, Alarax, was ruined and he did n't see any day in the near future where he would have the time. Tomorrow, he had that quest in Alren that would at least take a week. Then, he had to eradicate the Elvish saboteurs at the D & D Simulation centre of Halberon. This had been pushed back too many times and needed to be done as soon as possible. After that, it would be the next season of dragonriding and he absolutely needed to train if he did n't want to be kicked out of the team. Melrichus did n't think they would dare to kick the First Dragonrider of Alnaeth but he could n't be sure. Plus, Dragonbowl was in less than two months and he did n't want to bring shame upon his name. As he walked towards he dragon stables he issued orders to his servants through the phone built in his enchanted bracelet. The ruby glowed as the worried voice of the goblin Head Majordome answered that the winecellar he wanted to buy had been sold this morning. His ultralight nanotube armor came flying from the armoury by the press of a button on his bracelet. In a few seconds, all the golden armour parts attached themselves to his body. His winged helmet kept flying above him. Alarax was found bathing in the waterfall, being massaged by the two brandnew mechanical arms he had installed on the dragon for its birthday. `` I do n't care bro, that Elf is n't going to interrupt my bath. Find another hobby here at home or buy one of these flying metal ships but I am not going to work on Delthor-day.'' Dragons and dragonriders could speak through a neurological implant connected by Redtooth. `` Today's not the day. Believe me, my day was also ruined. So, please, do n't be annoying'' `` Ai n't gon na happen'' `` You do n't have anything to say about it, it's an imperial convocation. Now get out of the water!'' `` Come on! You know my flight-assisting boosters are being repaired! Fuck the emperor!'' `` Technology has made you so lazy. And I cant refuse an imperial convocation.'' Alarax reluctantly came out of the water and let his rider mount him. As the dragon flew towards a setting sun, Melrichus yelled at his bracelet. `` AND DO N'T FORGET TO CALL THOSE DAMN DWARVEN MAGENGINEERS FROM MANATECH! IF THE TRANSFORMER DOES N'T GET REPAIRED SOON, THE WHOLE ISLAND WILL CRASH DOWN!'' </s>

[ WP ] You realize that whatever you do to your model globe happens in the real world .

In the corner of the small, unkept bedroom there was a man on a bed, with the covers drawn about him. He gazed fearfully at a globe on a table across the room. The globe, somehow ominously, was slowly rotating of its own accord. It had started out as a hacking project... take a small computer, a flexible OLED display, some small motors, etc., and build a real-time Earth display. Show day night cycles, maybe do some eclipse simulations, dynamic clouds based on available satellite imagery, that sort of thing. And, barring a seam here and there, it had been pretty good, at first. But then, somehow, the globe got'fuzzy' and close inspection revealed it had an envelope of whispy gas around it. The seams of the OLED display flattened, softened, then faded. The elements of the display shrunk well below the ability of the human eye to spot - even with a microscope. Scott knew, because he'd checked. All the data enhancements he'd added to the display, like political borders, city markers, and such... they too faded away. That was weird. He'd known that was weird. He tried looking at the display seam he knew ran through the Pacific using a penlight and a magnifying glass. Instead of seeing black, he saw what looked suscpiciously like a relief map of the ocean floor. *He had n't even programmed that yet*. He'd thought maybe friends were pranking him or something, until he heard the news reports - tensions between China and the US going through the roof because an American ship had been crippled by a searing light in the sky that blinded all exposed to it. So he had retreated to his bed in the corner, watching the world turn and too terrified to approach it.

<s>[INST] You realize that whatever you do to your model globe happens in the real world . [/INST] In the corner of the small, unkept bedroom there was a man on a bed, with the covers drawn about him. He gazed fearfully at a globe on a table across the room. The globe, somehow ominously, was slowly rotating of its own accord. It had started out as a hacking project... take a small computer, a flexible OLED display, some small motors, etc., and build a real-time Earth display. Show day night cycles, maybe do some eclipse simulations, dynamic clouds based on available satellite imagery, that sort of thing. And, barring a seam here and there, it had been pretty good, at first. But then, somehow, the globe got'fuzzy' and close inspection revealed it had an envelope of whispy gas around it. The seams of the OLED display flattened, softened, then faded. The elements of the display shrunk well below the ability of the human eye to spot - even with a microscope. Scott knew, because he'd checked. All the data enhancements he'd added to the display, like political borders, city markers, and such... they too faded away. That was weird. He'd known that was weird. He tried looking at the display seam he knew ran through the Pacific using a penlight and a magnifying glass. Instead of seeing black, he saw what looked suscpiciously like a relief map of the ocean floor. *He had n't even programmed that yet*. He'd thought maybe friends were pranking him or something, until he heard the news reports - tensions between China and the US going through the roof because an American ship had been crippled by a searing light in the sky that blinded all exposed to it. So he had retreated to his bed in the corner, watching the world turn and too terrified to approach it. </s>

[ WP ] You are a wizard and your only job it to shout random things until you find a new spell .

I rushed up the spiral stairs, my robe flapping behind me, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Why are the Magisters so obsessed with towers? No building in the academy has less than eight flights of stairs. I ’ m amazed none of the tutors have had a heart attack yet. Sparing a glance out of one of the little windows I can see the sun is almost at its zenith. Great… I ’ m running late. Again. I skidded to a halt just outside the office door. Quickly, I tried to flatten down my robe a touch, straighten my lanyard and pull my hair into something resembling tidy. With Magister Antonious the only thing worse than showing up late, was showing up late and unpresentable. I pushed the door open quietly, peering round the door into the Magister ’ s office, hoping he was too engrossed in his studies to notice the time. “ You ’ re late Adept, no amount of sneaking will change that ” he said without looking up from his scroll. I quickly closed the door and opened my mouth to try and explain my tardiness. “ Don ’ t bother with the excuses Adept, I ’ ve heard then all before and quite frankly don ’ t care ” he took a breath from his pipe “ Because of your tardiness, you ’ ll be doing syntactic research tonight. ” I ground my teeth, biting back a number of impolite responses. Syntactic research is the most mind numbing, draining aspects of thaumatological research. It amounts to sitting up all night saying random words and pouring power into then, hoping it makes a functioning spell. It ’ s grunt work for a first year Academ, not an Adept in the last time year of their apprenticeship. Thinking better than to argue with the academy ’ s finest researcher, I strode off towards one of the periphery research chambers. The chamber was tiny, less than my arm span across, and rather spartan. The only things in there were a timepiece opposite the door, a candle in a alcove on the wall, and a bronze circle inlaid in the floor. “ Shas ’ Xen ” I muttered, hand extended toward the candle. A purple flame flicked to life atop it, unnaturally still and steady. I dumped my satchel in the corner and pull out book and a quill, to note any combinations that actually manifested a spell. Slumping down into the circle, I decided to start with some simple augments. Take a spell, throw a bit on the end and see if anything happens. “ Shas ’ Xen ’ Paru ” I breathed, forcing a little energy into it. As soon as I finished speaking a spear of pain slammed into my head, feedback from an incomplete spell that left my ears ringing. I took a steadying breath. “ Shas ’ Xen ’ Topah ” again greeted by feedback. “ Shas ’ Xen ’ Ru ” this time there was no feedback. A small flame appeared in my palm. A completed spell, quickly as well. Which then started screaming. Loudly. I promptly slammed my palm shut, cutting of the spell and the screaming. Once my ears stopped ringing, I pulled my notebook forward and scribbled a quick note. Shas ’ Xen ’ Ru. Mage-light base, banshee like augment. Minimal energy change. Applications -??? With that I set the book down and turned my mind back to more augments. -- - “ Dao ’ Rae ’ Duun ” I mumbled, another surge of feedback jolted away my weariness, if only for a second. I slumped back, resting my head against the cold stone wall. I peered toward the timepiece, squinting in the low light and through fatigue. According to it, the sun would be setting right about now. My note book sat across from me, only half a dozen entries from tonight, all minor augments to existing spells. Not a bad result, just not enough to impress the Magister either. if I want to avoid doing this again and again for the next few weeks then I need something substantial. Straightening up, I settled in the circle with my legs folded beneath me and my eyes closed. They say that talented Magisters have a knack for spells, that they can just feel which words are going to doing something. So I sat, modulated my breathing, and tried to focus in the now. Then just said whatever felt right. No pattern, no logic. “ Durven Vardesh ” I breathed, feeling the words click as the spell completed. The energy lurched out of me, enough to darken my vison and leave me panting on the floor. Looking around, nothing seems to have changed. No burst of flame, no change of shape, no teleportation or summoned phantom. No new sights, sounds or smells. Wait. No sounds at all. I stared at the timepiece for a long moment and it stayed dead still, none of the arms moving and no gears turning. This was something new! This was something that might impress the Magister. Even if it ’ s just another silencing charm, it could still have its uses. I spun and opened the door back into the main room. “ Magister, sir ” I called with forced politeness “ could I have a moment of your time? ” He didn ’ t move, didn ’ t even look up from the cup of wine was pouring. I walked around the desk, hoping to get his attention. “ Magi- “ I cut myself off when I saw that he, and his wine, was completely frozen. Not in the sense of ice and frost, but like an unblinking statue. I waved my hand in front of his face, with no response, then clicked my fingers a few times, to less response and finally tapped him on the nose, which felt normal but earned no response. Looking around, I can see more evidence of the spell. The smoke from his pipe hung clumped together just above it, the rooms sole lantern hung at an unnatural angle as if mid swing and outside the window a bird was frozen mid- flap as it went to land on the sill. It was as if time stood still. Titanswrath! I ’ ve just defied the laws of Magic. This changes everything. Nothing will be the same. I rushed for Magister ’ s storage cupboard, a new spring in my step. Throwing open the door, I grabbed the three plushest looking quilts and ran back to the periphery chamber. Each quilt was larger than the whole floor so they had to be folded before I threw them down. With no preamble I jumped into the makeshift bed and settled in for my first full nights sleep in nearly four years. Stars above, I love magic. -- - Hey, first Prompt I've responded to so any constructive criticism would be very much appreciated, but go easy on me: D SC

<s>[INST] You are a wizard and your only job it to shout random things until you find a new spell . [/INST] I rushed up the spiral stairs, my robe flapping behind me, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Why are the Magisters so obsessed with towers? No building in the academy has less than eight flights of stairs. I ’ m amazed none of the tutors have had a heart attack yet. Sparing a glance out of one of the little windows I can see the sun is almost at its zenith. Great… I ’ m running late. Again. I skidded to a halt just outside the office door. Quickly, I tried to flatten down my robe a touch, straighten my lanyard and pull my hair into something resembling tidy. With Magister Antonious the only thing worse than showing up late, was showing up late and unpresentable. I pushed the door open quietly, peering round the door into the Magister ’ s office, hoping he was too engrossed in his studies to notice the time. “ You ’ re late Adept, no amount of sneaking will change that ” he said without looking up from his scroll. I quickly closed the door and opened my mouth to try and explain my tardiness. “ Don ’ t bother with the excuses Adept, I ’ ve heard then all before and quite frankly don ’ t care ” he took a breath from his pipe “ Because of your tardiness, you ’ ll be doing syntactic research tonight. ” I ground my teeth, biting back a number of impolite responses. Syntactic research is the most mind numbing, draining aspects of thaumatological research. It amounts to sitting up all night saying random words and pouring power into then, hoping it makes a functioning spell. It ’ s grunt work for a first year Academ, not an Adept in the last time year of their apprenticeship. Thinking better than to argue with the academy ’ s finest researcher, I strode off towards one of the periphery research chambers. The chamber was tiny, less than my arm span across, and rather spartan. The only things in there were a timepiece opposite the door, a candle in a alcove on the wall, and a bronze circle inlaid in the floor. “ Shas ’ Xen ” I muttered, hand extended toward the candle. A purple flame flicked to life atop it, unnaturally still and steady. I dumped my satchel in the corner and pull out book and a quill, to note any combinations that actually manifested a spell. Slumping down into the circle, I decided to start with some simple augments. Take a spell, throw a bit on the end and see if anything happens. “ Shas ’ Xen ’ Paru ” I breathed, forcing a little energy into it. As soon as I finished speaking a spear of pain slammed into my head, feedback from an incomplete spell that left my ears ringing. I took a steadying breath. “ Shas ’ Xen ’ Topah ” again greeted by feedback. “ Shas ’ Xen ’ Ru ” this time there was no feedback. A small flame appeared in my palm. A completed spell, quickly as well. Which then started screaming. Loudly. I promptly slammed my palm shut, cutting of the spell and the screaming. Once my ears stopped ringing, I pulled my notebook forward and scribbled a quick note. Shas ’ Xen ’ Ru. Mage-light base, banshee like augment. Minimal energy change. Applications -??? With that I set the book down and turned my mind back to more augments. -- - “ Dao ’ Rae ’ Duun ” I mumbled, another surge of feedback jolted away my weariness, if only for a second. I slumped back, resting my head against the cold stone wall. I peered toward the timepiece, squinting in the low light and through fatigue. According to it, the sun would be setting right about now. My note book sat across from me, only half a dozen entries from tonight, all minor augments to existing spells. Not a bad result, just not enough to impress the Magister either. if I want to avoid doing this again and again for the next few weeks then I need something substantial. Straightening up, I settled in the circle with my legs folded beneath me and my eyes closed. They say that talented Magisters have a knack for spells, that they can just feel which words are going to doing something. So I sat, modulated my breathing, and tried to focus in the now. Then just said whatever felt right. No pattern, no logic. “ Durven Vardesh ” I breathed, feeling the words click as the spell completed. The energy lurched out of me, enough to darken my vison and leave me panting on the floor. Looking around, nothing seems to have changed. No burst of flame, no change of shape, no teleportation or summoned phantom. No new sights, sounds or smells. Wait. No sounds at all. I stared at the timepiece for a long moment and it stayed dead still, none of the arms moving and no gears turning. This was something new! This was something that might impress the Magister. Even if it ’ s just another silencing charm, it could still have its uses. I spun and opened the door back into the main room. “ Magister, sir ” I called with forced politeness “ could I have a moment of your time? ” He didn ’ t move, didn ’ t even look up from the cup of wine was pouring. I walked around the desk, hoping to get his attention. “ Magi- “ I cut myself off when I saw that he, and his wine, was completely frozen. Not in the sense of ice and frost, but like an unblinking statue. I waved my hand in front of his face, with no response, then clicked my fingers a few times, to less response and finally tapped him on the nose, which felt normal but earned no response. Looking around, I can see more evidence of the spell. The smoke from his pipe hung clumped together just above it, the rooms sole lantern hung at an unnatural angle as if mid swing and outside the window a bird was frozen mid- flap as it went to land on the sill. It was as if time stood still. Titanswrath! I ’ ve just defied the laws of Magic. This changes everything. Nothing will be the same. I rushed for Magister ’ s storage cupboard, a new spring in my step. Throwing open the door, I grabbed the three plushest looking quilts and ran back to the periphery chamber. Each quilt was larger than the whole floor so they had to be folded before I threw them down. With no preamble I jumped into the makeshift bed and settled in for my first full nights sleep in nearly four years. Stars above, I love magic. -- - Hey, first Prompt I've responded to so any constructive criticism would be very much appreciated, but go easy on me: D SC </s>

[ WP ] You 're the world 's best photographer . Your secret ? You can freeze time . You last photo brings some suspicion up .

``'Perfect-timing Bill', that's what they call me. And I seem indeed to have an uncanny ability to get the perfect shots at the perfect moment - my `` jumping people'' pictures are always great, I catch the funniest superpositions, my wildlife pictures are gaped at, I have a stockpile of pictures of things that fall, break or explode. To the people who ask me how I do it, I play the modesty card - `` you know, it's a bit of luck, a fair amount of practice, and for every picture that you see, hundreds do n't make the cut''. I'm not lying. I do take a lot of pictures to get the right one. And I suppose it does take a bit of luck and experience to snap my fingers at exactly the right moment to freeze time. I've been called a cheater, a fraudster, a bad photoshopper. The irony of that is not lost on me. I defeated all the claims, one by one. Some people are still not convinced, but then again, some people are still not convinced we went to the Moon. The cover of `` best photographer in the world'' explains my luxury lifestyle. Obviously, my photography gear is everything money can buy and then some. My house has been sold to me as a'manor', my garage contains three very shiny red sports cars. I still have a reputation as a philanthropist - it's only natural, after all, to give back to the populations and places that allowed me to take such great pictures. It took me a surprisingly long time to understand that this gift could be used for other purposes. I ca n't say that I've never taken the opportunity to unzip the fly of an annoying customer or to lift a garment. Interacting with frozen people creeps me out, though, so I stopped doing that. It was probably more of an incentive to stop than the fear of getting caught. Over the years, I improved my technique. I did n't want to get caught, so I went to great lengths to ensure that my freezing the time did n't get detected. The most obvious thing is to come back to the original pose when I am done. The second obvious thing is to never shoot from an impossible angle that the client would have noticed. That's why I like wildlife pictures: an eagle will not be suspiscious at the angle at which you caught its best side view. And if I'm not actually taking pictures, well, I can hide somewhere, or I can pretend to re-tie my shoe, or that sort of things, before I snap my fingers. Small thefts were not really possible: if I steal a handbag in the street, there's a fair chance it's going to be seen. Larger thefts are more profitable and easier, assuming they happen in a place where no-one is actually standing and wondering how the thing they were looking at disappeared in front of their eyes. What I had never really taken into account, though, was that although human beings would probably not notice the minutiae of my position, the CCTV in front of my targets would. And that eventually someone would make the connection between the multiple occurrences of a guy shifting from a few centimeters in the vicinity of every bank and jewelry shop that had been mysteriously broken in this past decade. And that's why colleagues caught me, Detective. I do n't think I will ever forget the three knocks at my door at 6AM this morning, or the first sentence your constable said to me:'William Stasis? You're under arrest for multiple counts of burglary and grand theft.' But then again... `` William grinned and snapped his fingers.

<s>[INST] You 're the world 's best photographer . Your secret ? You can freeze time . You last photo brings some suspicion up . [/INST] ``'Perfect-timing Bill', that's what they call me. And I seem indeed to have an uncanny ability to get the perfect shots at the perfect moment - my `` jumping people'' pictures are always great, I catch the funniest superpositions, my wildlife pictures are gaped at, I have a stockpile of pictures of things that fall, break or explode. To the people who ask me how I do it, I play the modesty card - `` you know, it's a bit of luck, a fair amount of practice, and for every picture that you see, hundreds do n't make the cut''. I'm not lying. I do take a lot of pictures to get the right one. And I suppose it does take a bit of luck and experience to snap my fingers at exactly the right moment to freeze time. I've been called a cheater, a fraudster, a bad photoshopper. The irony of that is not lost on me. I defeated all the claims, one by one. Some people are still not convinced, but then again, some people are still not convinced we went to the Moon. The cover of `` best photographer in the world'' explains my luxury lifestyle. Obviously, my photography gear is everything money can buy and then some. My house has been sold to me as a'manor', my garage contains three very shiny red sports cars. I still have a reputation as a philanthropist - it's only natural, after all, to give back to the populations and places that allowed me to take such great pictures. It took me a surprisingly long time to understand that this gift could be used for other purposes. I ca n't say that I've never taken the opportunity to unzip the fly of an annoying customer or to lift a garment. Interacting with frozen people creeps me out, though, so I stopped doing that. It was probably more of an incentive to stop than the fear of getting caught. Over the years, I improved my technique. I did n't want to get caught, so I went to great lengths to ensure that my freezing the time did n't get detected. The most obvious thing is to come back to the original pose when I am done. The second obvious thing is to never shoot from an impossible angle that the client would have noticed. That's why I like wildlife pictures: an eagle will not be suspiscious at the angle at which you caught its best side view. And if I'm not actually taking pictures, well, I can hide somewhere, or I can pretend to re-tie my shoe, or that sort of things, before I snap my fingers. Small thefts were not really possible: if I steal a handbag in the street, there's a fair chance it's going to be seen. Larger thefts are more profitable and easier, assuming they happen in a place where no-one is actually standing and wondering how the thing they were looking at disappeared in front of their eyes. What I had never really taken into account, though, was that although human beings would probably not notice the minutiae of my position, the CCTV in front of my targets would. And that eventually someone would make the connection between the multiple occurrences of a guy shifting from a few centimeters in the vicinity of every bank and jewelry shop that had been mysteriously broken in this past decade. And that's why colleagues caught me, Detective. I do n't think I will ever forget the three knocks at my door at 6AM this morning, or the first sentence your constable said to me:'William Stasis? You're under arrest for multiple counts of burglary and grand theft.' But then again... `` William grinned and snapped his fingers. </s>

[ TT ] Choose one level from Super Mario Brothers on the NES and adapt it to a CYOA story .

Lost Levels: World 8-2 The way to Bowser's castle is clear. You can feel it in your bones. Peace will be paved in the Mushroom Kingdom soon. It's only a matter of not falling into another trap, or another warp pipe sending you back even further than where you are. Hopping on a trampoline, you bound across the lake beyond the wall. You've seen too many of these lake-trampoline setups during your travels to save the Princess a second time. A nondescript block floats in the air, with a lone Paratroopa blocking your way through. While you think that it would look cool to hop on the Paratroopa as it makes its rounds, it may just be easier just to hop on the block and go on your way. It's a simple block, really. Perhaps it'd be a quicker route to the Princess just to ignore this and go on your way. *You make a leap of faith. Show off, or play it safe? * **If you can jump on the block, go to A. ** **If you can jump on the Paratroopa, go to B. ** *A* The way to Bowser's castle is clear. You can feel it in your bones. Peace will be paved in the Mushroom Kingdom soon...

<s>[INST] [ TT ] Choose one level from Super Mario Brothers on the NES and adapt it to a CYOA story . [/INST] Lost Levels: World 8-2 The way to Bowser's castle is clear. You can feel it in your bones. Peace will be paved in the Mushroom Kingdom soon. It's only a matter of not falling into another trap, or another warp pipe sending you back even further than where you are. Hopping on a trampoline, you bound across the lake beyond the wall. You've seen too many of these lake-trampoline setups during your travels to save the Princess a second time. A nondescript block floats in the air, with a lone Paratroopa blocking your way through. While you think that it would look cool to hop on the Paratroopa as it makes its rounds, it may just be easier just to hop on the block and go on your way. It's a simple block, really. Perhaps it'd be a quicker route to the Princess just to ignore this and go on your way. *You make a leap of faith. Show off, or play it safe? * **If you can jump on the block, go to A. ** **If you can jump on the Paratroopa, go to B. ** *A* The way to Bowser's castle is clear. You can feel it in your bones. Peace will be paved in the Mushroom Kingdom soon... </s>

[ WP ] Souls do exist , and are in fact very easy to measure and detect . Humans just do n't have souls .

**A [ pathetic ] Tragedy** `` And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.'' Rev. 12:9 It's no surprise we do n't have souls, it was right in front of us all along. As offspring of fallen angels, we can not be saved. Earth is Hell, and we are it's minions. And here I am, staring our *true* creator and father right in the eyes. The wooden handle of the blade in my right hand was smooth and worn. It was blade heavy, but not uncomfortable. `` You know I ca n't be killed. There are worse fates than being in Hell. Do you truly want to die here today?'' Lucifer asked. `` If I have no soul, I ca n't be damned for eternity, right?'' `` Just because you do n't have one in your mortal life, does n't mean you are n't given one in your eternal life. As they say, *God works in mysterious ways*,'' Lucifer said. `` So I hear,'' I said. `` But if you die, humanity will no longer have a leader. We will be thrust upon the gates of Heaven and God will be forced to hear us!'' `` Assuming he is listening,'' Lucifer said. He smirked and shrugged his shoulders as if saying *what can ya' do? * `` He has to hear us, he has to. Billions of us banging on the gates of Heaven, demanding to be let in. He ca n't ignore our numbers!'' `` And you, silly human, can not be saved. If I die, humanity dies. To be human is to be born of both good and evil, present, past, and future. True free will to grow without the fetters of an aligned soul -- or a soul at all. If you take that away... you cease to exist as you know it and your cries for help will fall on deaf ears. He is not listening.'' `` Then why have n't you killed me, then? Save yourself the trouble.'' `` Maybe this is a test,'' Lucifer said. `` Perhaps this is how your *God* and I judge those worthy of a soul.'' `` Lies,'' I whispered. I thrust my arm forward, my knife sinking deep into Lucifer's flesh. The knife did n't stop at the hilt; in fact, it did n't stop at my hand. I was up to my elbow in Lucifer's throat, somehow. `` A pity,'' he said. He looked down at me with sad eyes and a sad smile. I felt his heartbreak. He wrapped his arms around me, and his warmth permeated through my entire being. For a moment there was a flicker of something *new*, a feeling of wholeness before the blackness engulfed me. - PS

<s>[INST] Souls do exist , and are in fact very easy to measure and detect . Humans just do n't have souls . [/INST] **A [ pathetic ] Tragedy** `` And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.'' Rev. 12:9 It's no surprise we do n't have souls, it was right in front of us all along. As offspring of fallen angels, we can not be saved. Earth is Hell, and we are it's minions. And here I am, staring our *true* creator and father right in the eyes. The wooden handle of the blade in my right hand was smooth and worn. It was blade heavy, but not uncomfortable. `` You know I ca n't be killed. There are worse fates than being in Hell. Do you truly want to die here today?'' Lucifer asked. `` If I have no soul, I ca n't be damned for eternity, right?'' `` Just because you do n't have one in your mortal life, does n't mean you are n't given one in your eternal life. As they say, *God works in mysterious ways*,'' Lucifer said. `` So I hear,'' I said. `` But if you die, humanity will no longer have a leader. We will be thrust upon the gates of Heaven and God will be forced to hear us!'' `` Assuming he is listening,'' Lucifer said. He smirked and shrugged his shoulders as if saying *what can ya' do? * `` He has to hear us, he has to. Billions of us banging on the gates of Heaven, demanding to be let in. He ca n't ignore our numbers!'' `` And you, silly human, can not be saved. If I die, humanity dies. To be human is to be born of both good and evil, present, past, and future. True free will to grow without the fetters of an aligned soul -- or a soul at all. If you take that away... you cease to exist as you know it and your cries for help will fall on deaf ears. He is not listening.'' `` Then why have n't you killed me, then? Save yourself the trouble.'' `` Maybe this is a test,'' Lucifer said. `` Perhaps this is how your *God* and I judge those worthy of a soul.'' `` Lies,'' I whispered. I thrust my arm forward, my knife sinking deep into Lucifer's flesh. The knife did n't stop at the hilt; in fact, it did n't stop at my hand. I was up to my elbow in Lucifer's throat, somehow. `` A pity,'' he said. He looked down at me with sad eyes and a sad smile. I felt his heartbreak. He wrapped his arms around me, and his warmth permeated through my entire being. For a moment there was a flicker of something *new*, a feeling of wholeness before the blackness engulfed me. - PS </s>

[ WP ] A suicide hotline operator realizes that the person he 's talking down really should kill themselves .

“ What if I told you, ” the wind changes direction and blows toward me, momentarily chasing away my breath. I take a sharp inhale through my nose, “ the biggest conspiracy theory in history was actually true? ” I ’ ve always been afraid of heights. I wonder if they do this in hypnosis; give you a reason to face your fears, steel you against the phobia you no longer have time for. There ’ s no flutter in my stomach, my core is tight yet my legs are relaxed. “ So the biggest conspiracy theory is true. How does that affect your decision to call today? ” says a girl in a tone that I can ’ t place as nasal or twang-y. Two girls emerge from my building and light up a cigarette. “ Do you know what I ’ m talking about? Listen, just pretend this is hypothetical. ” “ So this isn ’ t an emergency? ” “ If you play along, I promise not to harm myself. Do we have a deal? ” “ O.K., I ’ ll play along if you promise not to harm yourself. ” I think about where to start. How do I convince this girl to take me seriously? I notice the trees are calm, the smoke trailing from the cigarette embers pulls toward me. “ I ’ ll go back on my meds, ” I tell her, “ please; I need to know how I would handle this, though. I want to ascertain my morale, would I put the greater good before myself? ” “ So this isn ’ t an emergency? ” I can picture her checking off a list of required questions. It ’ s probably been a long night. “ No, not if you help. ” I already know what I need to do. Maybe I just want to feel like a hero, like I ’ d do what this lady wouldn ’ t. “ I have definitive proof of a government cover-up. In order to protect myself, I sent documents to a lawyer which he will release to the media in the event of my death. There ’ s been a raid on my house. ” I take a moment to make sure she is still with me. “ But you don ’ t actually believe this? ” “ No. It started as a delusion, but I ’ ve regained insight. As part of my therapy, I need it to resolve, somehow. I ’ ve decided that is by determining what I would do. Then I can put it out of my mind. ” “ And you ’ ll get help? ” “ Yes. ” I ’ m so far past help. I gave my lawyer no choice, I said don ’ t do anything with the documents, don ’ t even let me have them. Do only as my instructions permit. “ In the raid my personal copies of the documents were confiscated. Let ’ s say the only way the public comes to learn about this lie is in the event of my death. ” “ I can follow your thinking. Yes, sometimes it seems like you ’ re at odds with your ideals. But life is the highest ideal. ” “ What ’ s your name? ” I say. The girls have finished their cigarette, and the smell is carrying up to my fifth floor. I doubt it actually is. I haven ’ t smoked in three years, but I ’ m dying for one, now. It ’ s probably my imagination. Things aren ’ t so bad, are they? Wouldn ’ t the prisoners skulk back into the cave, given the light? “ Cynthia. What ’ s yours? ” “ It doesn ’ t matter. I ’ d rather keep this anonymous. Let ’ s say in this fantasy world we have created, you wouldn ’ t ever hear my name. Not on the news, on the lips of the revolution, or the history books. Thanks, Cynthia. ” She ’ s right, of course. I just had to hear it from someone. Her reasoning might be different, but she ’ s right. “ O.K. I will be glad you called when I read your name in the papers. ” Did she really say that? Had she meant to say “ when I don ’ t read ”? No. Otherwise she would have hung up. It is the wink that will carry through our fate. The wind picks up. My arm jerks to steady myself, but I was off-guard. Five stories. Just enough time to thank Cynthia.

<s>[INST] A suicide hotline operator realizes that the person he 's talking down really should kill themselves . [/INST] “ What if I told you, ” the wind changes direction and blows toward me, momentarily chasing away my breath. I take a sharp inhale through my nose, “ the biggest conspiracy theory in history was actually true? ” I ’ ve always been afraid of heights. I wonder if they do this in hypnosis; give you a reason to face your fears, steel you against the phobia you no longer have time for. There ’ s no flutter in my stomach, my core is tight yet my legs are relaxed. “ So the biggest conspiracy theory is true. How does that affect your decision to call today? ” says a girl in a tone that I can ’ t place as nasal or twang-y. Two girls emerge from my building and light up a cigarette. “ Do you know what I ’ m talking about? Listen, just pretend this is hypothetical. ” “ So this isn ’ t an emergency? ” “ If you play along, I promise not to harm myself. Do we have a deal? ” “ O.K., I ’ ll play along if you promise not to harm yourself. ” I think about where to start. How do I convince this girl to take me seriously? I notice the trees are calm, the smoke trailing from the cigarette embers pulls toward me. “ I ’ ll go back on my meds, ” I tell her, “ please; I need to know how I would handle this, though. I want to ascertain my morale, would I put the greater good before myself? ” “ So this isn ’ t an emergency? ” I can picture her checking off a list of required questions. It ’ s probably been a long night. “ No, not if you help. ” I already know what I need to do. Maybe I just want to feel like a hero, like I ’ d do what this lady wouldn ’ t. “ I have definitive proof of a government cover-up. In order to protect myself, I sent documents to a lawyer which he will release to the media in the event of my death. There ’ s been a raid on my house. ” I take a moment to make sure she is still with me. “ But you don ’ t actually believe this? ” “ No. It started as a delusion, but I ’ ve regained insight. As part of my therapy, I need it to resolve, somehow. I ’ ve decided that is by determining what I would do. Then I can put it out of my mind. ” “ And you ’ ll get help? ” “ Yes. ” I ’ m so far past help. I gave my lawyer no choice, I said don ’ t do anything with the documents, don ’ t even let me have them. Do only as my instructions permit. “ In the raid my personal copies of the documents were confiscated. Let ’ s say the only way the public comes to learn about this lie is in the event of my death. ” “ I can follow your thinking. Yes, sometimes it seems like you ’ re at odds with your ideals. But life is the highest ideal. ” “ What ’ s your name? ” I say. The girls have finished their cigarette, and the smell is carrying up to my fifth floor. I doubt it actually is. I haven ’ t smoked in three years, but I ’ m dying for one, now. It ’ s probably my imagination. Things aren ’ t so bad, are they? Wouldn ’ t the prisoners skulk back into the cave, given the light? “ Cynthia. What ’ s yours? ” “ It doesn ’ t matter. I ’ d rather keep this anonymous. Let ’ s say in this fantasy world we have created, you wouldn ’ t ever hear my name. Not on the news, on the lips of the revolution, or the history books. Thanks, Cynthia. ” She ’ s right, of course. I just had to hear it from someone. Her reasoning might be different, but she ’ s right. “ O.K. I will be glad you called when I read your name in the papers. ” Did she really say that? Had she meant to say “ when I don ’ t read ”? No. Otherwise she would have hung up. It is the wink that will carry through our fate. The wind picks up. My arm jerks to steady myself, but I was off-guard. Five stories. Just enough time to thank Cynthia. </s>

[ WP ] Write about one of your childhood dreams .

Audrey and I looked at each other through the reflection of the lake, and she smiled at me. The sun was setting, and the orange light reflecting off of the water made Audrey look like an Egyptian goddess. She was beautiful, but I would be lying if I said that the lack of pigment on her skin did n't bother me. She looked up from the water and swung her bare feet off of the rock we were sitting on. I looked up too, meeting her hollow eyes. `` Tell me how it feels again, Michael'' Audrey said. `` I've told you hundreds of times.'' I replied as I reached my toes into the water. A chill went up my spine. `` I know, I just like hearing you talk about it.'' I could n't help but smile. I told her everything I could about how the icy water felt. Or how the hard cold rock under my bottom was uncomfortable. And how my hair falling onto the back of my neck and bare shoulders tickled, and sometimes made me shiver. Everytime I described these senses to her, I tried to delve into further detail, sometimes I would even make things up just to see her smile and ponder what I meant by `` itchy'' or `` tingle''. Audrey would n't know for sure, of course, because Audrey is a ghost. Or at least, we think that she is. There's no way to know for sure, I guess. I guess is a phrase a use a lot given my circumstances. Audrey and I live next to our lake, in our forest. I can still feel, but we think that we have been here for the same amount of time. I do n't remember a life without Audrey, and she does n't remember much of one without me either. When I opened my eyes all of those years ago to silver hair flowing over my face, and the yellow mid day sun shining through the strands causing me to squint, I was afraid. The sun made her thin hair seem like strands of metal, and the first time I heard her voice I thought it was the metal strands rubbing together. Her voice is frightening, and if she could feel she would have felt my head bump into hers as I hurriedly sat up. `` Who are you?'' Was all she said. I opened my mouth to answer, and was confused when nothing came out. Who am I? `` I... do n't really know.'' I managed to say, my words stumbling over each other as if I had just learned to speak. I was finding my bearings, and for some reason I did n't start to panic. I just sat there, staring at this strange girl. She could n't have been older than 14. How old was I? `` Well how do you like the name Michael? It sticks out to me.'' She said as she sat back and crossed her legs, gently laying her hands onto her knees. It was at this moment I realized she was naked, and my stomach sunk. Looking at her almost stung my eyes, her pale skin reflected the sun better than the lake that sat twenty feet from where I had just woken up. I got angry for a second. Angry because I was confused. And just as I was about to lash out at her, a thought came into my mind. I thought that was n't created in the last five minutes, no, something deeper than that. `` Audrey.'' I whispered. `` I do n't mind that! Well Michael, call me Audrey!'' Her broken record player voice screeched. It took me a few minutes to look at her again. And a few days to be able to speak to her. It took months to respond to Michael, and it may have taken years to get used to her voice. Now, I do not know how much time has passed, but my hair touches my neck and my bare shoulders, and all that matters is the setting sun and Audrey's pale smile. A snap of a tree branch rang out from behind us, and both of our heads turned in time to see the branch hit the ground. A tall man stood there, accompanied by a few boys. `` We finally found you.'' The tall man said. I turned to look at Audrey, but she was gone.

<s>[INST] Write about one of your childhood dreams . [/INST] Audrey and I looked at each other through the reflection of the lake, and she smiled at me. The sun was setting, and the orange light reflecting off of the water made Audrey look like an Egyptian goddess. She was beautiful, but I would be lying if I said that the lack of pigment on her skin did n't bother me. She looked up from the water and swung her bare feet off of the rock we were sitting on. I looked up too, meeting her hollow eyes. `` Tell me how it feels again, Michael'' Audrey said. `` I've told you hundreds of times.'' I replied as I reached my toes into the water. A chill went up my spine. `` I know, I just like hearing you talk about it.'' I could n't help but smile. I told her everything I could about how the icy water felt. Or how the hard cold rock under my bottom was uncomfortable. And how my hair falling onto the back of my neck and bare shoulders tickled, and sometimes made me shiver. Everytime I described these senses to her, I tried to delve into further detail, sometimes I would even make things up just to see her smile and ponder what I meant by `` itchy'' or `` tingle''. Audrey would n't know for sure, of course, because Audrey is a ghost. Or at least, we think that she is. There's no way to know for sure, I guess. I guess is a phrase a use a lot given my circumstances. Audrey and I live next to our lake, in our forest. I can still feel, but we think that we have been here for the same amount of time. I do n't remember a life without Audrey, and she does n't remember much of one without me either. When I opened my eyes all of those years ago to silver hair flowing over my face, and the yellow mid day sun shining through the strands causing me to squint, I was afraid. The sun made her thin hair seem like strands of metal, and the first time I heard her voice I thought it was the metal strands rubbing together. Her voice is frightening, and if she could feel she would have felt my head bump into hers as I hurriedly sat up. `` Who are you?'' Was all she said. I opened my mouth to answer, and was confused when nothing came out. Who am I? `` I... do n't really know.'' I managed to say, my words stumbling over each other as if I had just learned to speak. I was finding my bearings, and for some reason I did n't start to panic. I just sat there, staring at this strange girl. She could n't have been older than 14. How old was I? `` Well how do you like the name Michael? It sticks out to me.'' She said as she sat back and crossed her legs, gently laying her hands onto her knees. It was at this moment I realized she was naked, and my stomach sunk. Looking at her almost stung my eyes, her pale skin reflected the sun better than the lake that sat twenty feet from where I had just woken up. I got angry for a second. Angry because I was confused. And just as I was about to lash out at her, a thought came into my mind. I thought that was n't created in the last five minutes, no, something deeper than that. `` Audrey.'' I whispered. `` I do n't mind that! Well Michael, call me Audrey!'' Her broken record player voice screeched. It took me a few minutes to look at her again. And a few days to be able to speak to her. It took months to respond to Michael, and it may have taken years to get used to her voice. Now, I do not know how much time has passed, but my hair touches my neck and my bare shoulders, and all that matters is the setting sun and Audrey's pale smile. A snap of a tree branch rang out from behind us, and both of our heads turned in time to see the branch hit the ground. A tall man stood there, accompanied by a few boys. `` We finally found you.'' The tall man said. I turned to look at Audrey, but she was gone. </s>

[ WP ] Tell a story about a haunted house from the ghost 's perspective .

I can not walk through walls. I can not even open doors if God does not will it so. While studying the knick-knacks of my grandson ’ s dresser, the museum of disassociated memories, someone shut the door, trapping me in the bedroom during their summer holiday. They went to Cape Cod. I am stuck in Providence in the house I grew up in. I remember closing my eyes while I laid on a hospital gurney, staring up at a fluorescent light while my daughters wept and sung Sweet Caroline to me. That was their mother ’ s name. I would tease their mother, singing it to her. When she died, I could not listen to the radio since if by some circumstance the song would come on, my productivity ceased for the day with me falling asleep on a couch. My daughter ’ s sung `` Good times never felt so good'' to me as I passed, and I woke up on the couch. I looked around and the house was empty. Boxes were being packed with my belongings. I am not a dense man. When my family came home in their Sunday best, and my son-in-law stared through me while he took off his coat, I knew that I existed on a shared reality, but not on theirs alone. I searched for Caroline in the house. She was not here with me. Was there another place she called home that was not where we grew old and raised our babies? I grieved selfishly and asked God every day if I did not have to spend eternity alone. His response was cold and spiteful. I became acutely aware to the menacing noises around my house. Phantoms and ghouls haunting my family. I stopped a malignant spirit from climbing in through a window. He cracked open the window, and with all my might I slammed the windows down on his fingers, snapping them. He howled, causing Eric and Sabrina to awaken and investigate the noise. They found the window slightly open, and their flowerbed trampled. They called the police and had a security system installed. The house was my daughter ’ s inheritance, and the ghost of her father is an amenity. I realized that I am not a prisoner, but a warden. God had kept me close to my family so I can be a guardian angel. Within the walls of the house they will stay protected by my constant vigil. I patrolled the hallway, then relaxed across the couch and watch the television that nobody bothered to turn off when everyone went to bed. The week of the vacation made me feel stir crazy. I watched the window like a dog hoping they would all return safe. Without responsibility I felt as useless at the toys collecting dust on my grandson ’ s dresser. I started to think abstractly. Wouldn ’ t it be fun to scare my family from time to time? Make them sit up in their beds, their eyes seeking rapidly around their room for the noise that woke them? Grandpa ’ s teasing us again. I shook my head and resolved not to think of such nonsense. I began to sympathize with the ghouls. They were probably just like me at one point until they were abandoned by their families and left in an empty house. The families that moved in afterwards would either have to get used to the eccentric stranger amongst them or move. I wondered what would happen if the family moved. Would I travel with them, tethered to my descendents like a kite? Or would my existence cease with my function? I thought about the ghouls again. I wondered if my disassociation would change me. The children of new homeowners searching in the dark with flashlights, looking for the noises that old houses make. Would I transform with their imaginations? Would I grow giant gnarled claws, tusks which sank into my bloodless jowls as my body metamorphosed into a malignant creature, once the proud grandparent of many grandchildren? Disassociation and association. A hoarder's festering trash heep was once their prized possessions. I laughed at myself, remembering the days where I only used to worry about what I was feeding my family on the weekends. BBQ mostly. I sat alone on my grandson's bed, which I remember building with Sabrina, and then thought about where I would go if the house was destroyed. Would I pass on too to a second death? Or would I be free to wander the earth? Could I find Caroline? If that were the case, please God let a tornado pass through the neighborhood while my family enjoys the beaches of Cape Cod. If that ’ s not the case, let my family come home safe and let me get on with my life.

<s>[INST] Tell a story about a haunted house from the ghost 's perspective . [/INST] I can not walk through walls. I can not even open doors if God does not will it so. While studying the knick-knacks of my grandson ’ s dresser, the museum of disassociated memories, someone shut the door, trapping me in the bedroom during their summer holiday. They went to Cape Cod. I am stuck in Providence in the house I grew up in. I remember closing my eyes while I laid on a hospital gurney, staring up at a fluorescent light while my daughters wept and sung Sweet Caroline to me. That was their mother ’ s name. I would tease their mother, singing it to her. When she died, I could not listen to the radio since if by some circumstance the song would come on, my productivity ceased for the day with me falling asleep on a couch. My daughter ’ s sung `` Good times never felt so good'' to me as I passed, and I woke up on the couch. I looked around and the house was empty. Boxes were being packed with my belongings. I am not a dense man. When my family came home in their Sunday best, and my son-in-law stared through me while he took off his coat, I knew that I existed on a shared reality, but not on theirs alone. I searched for Caroline in the house. She was not here with me. Was there another place she called home that was not where we grew old and raised our babies? I grieved selfishly and asked God every day if I did not have to spend eternity alone. His response was cold and spiteful. I became acutely aware to the menacing noises around my house. Phantoms and ghouls haunting my family. I stopped a malignant spirit from climbing in through a window. He cracked open the window, and with all my might I slammed the windows down on his fingers, snapping them. He howled, causing Eric and Sabrina to awaken and investigate the noise. They found the window slightly open, and their flowerbed trampled. They called the police and had a security system installed. The house was my daughter ’ s inheritance, and the ghost of her father is an amenity. I realized that I am not a prisoner, but a warden. God had kept me close to my family so I can be a guardian angel. Within the walls of the house they will stay protected by my constant vigil. I patrolled the hallway, then relaxed across the couch and watch the television that nobody bothered to turn off when everyone went to bed. The week of the vacation made me feel stir crazy. I watched the window like a dog hoping they would all return safe. Without responsibility I felt as useless at the toys collecting dust on my grandson ’ s dresser. I started to think abstractly. Wouldn ’ t it be fun to scare my family from time to time? Make them sit up in their beds, their eyes seeking rapidly around their room for the noise that woke them? Grandpa ’ s teasing us again. I shook my head and resolved not to think of such nonsense. I began to sympathize with the ghouls. They were probably just like me at one point until they were abandoned by their families and left in an empty house. The families that moved in afterwards would either have to get used to the eccentric stranger amongst them or move. I wondered what would happen if the family moved. Would I travel with them, tethered to my descendents like a kite? Or would my existence cease with my function? I thought about the ghouls again. I wondered if my disassociation would change me. The children of new homeowners searching in the dark with flashlights, looking for the noises that old houses make. Would I transform with their imaginations? Would I grow giant gnarled claws, tusks which sank into my bloodless jowls as my body metamorphosed into a malignant creature, once the proud grandparent of many grandchildren? Disassociation and association. A hoarder's festering trash heep was once their prized possessions. I laughed at myself, remembering the days where I only used to worry about what I was feeding my family on the weekends. BBQ mostly. I sat alone on my grandson's bed, which I remember building with Sabrina, and then thought about where I would go if the house was destroyed. Would I pass on too to a second death? Or would I be free to wander the earth? Could I find Caroline? If that were the case, please God let a tornado pass through the neighborhood while my family enjoys the beaches of Cape Cod. If that ’ s not the case, let my family come home safe and let me get on with my life. </s>

[ WP ] You just asked the interview candidate to sell you a pen . Unbeknownst to you , he/she is a professional pen salesperson , and they 're using this interview as an excuse to sell you their unique line of novelty pens .

`` Merchant service be damned. Talk not that lingo to me. Dost see that leg? - I'll take that leg away from thy stern, if ever thou talkest of the merchant service to me again. Merchant service indeed! What good thine merchant service to me - what wouldst thou do with it, sell me a pen? ” I saw that Peleg had certain prejudicial presumptions, to pooh-pooh the merchant service so. Whenever I meet a man so piously predisposed, whose personal assumptions thunder forth with the force of an angry Jehovah; who, in the course of an interview, implies iniquitous insults, so do I adopt a similar amount of piety, and, as Yeshua, turn the other cheek. For, what of it - if an uneducated position does serve to preposit a man against me; does it render me a pauper for him to think me so? - nay, rather, the parsimony is his, for in judging me impoverished, in whatsoever manner, he has guttered and deprived himself of my delightful person, and shunted and shunned and shuttered me, and so will never know me as a treasure. Which is not to say that I am more desirable a friend than any other fellow, but neither am I less distinguished; therefore, friendship being a rare commodity, that must be wandering fished from a wide and wondrous sea - of equal men - it is always better to have a larger catch to sort; it follows that one should adopt a welcoming net that holds multitudes, rather than one that can but handle meager schools. How much happier is the debutante who can choose from a wealth of suitors, than her poor, less desirable cousin, who must accept her sole proposer? Now, considering the appropriate way in which to prostrate myself before him - I saw that the correct course would be, indeed, to sell him a pen. I produced one from my pocket, for I never go anywhere without a couple or a dozen. “ Yes, thou needst a pen. ” How mighty, this Peleg Quaker, who had quaked thees and thous into my speech! It is a terrible thing to be in debt - previously, I mentioned my aversion to payments, and my corresponding rag of a purse. More compounded terror, still, to accrue interest on your owings. I swore to make a reciprocal impression, and so clear the ledger. “ What! ” “ Dost thou seest this pen? Think you it but a simple pen? Look you here. Perceive it. I say, how joyful was the man who slipped the chains of Plato ’ s cave? Who crawled up from the shadows, and saw true, good ideals? This is the essential pen; do you conceive the concept? All pens before this pen were but penumbra quills. Come, good Peleg, hold it. Behold it - feel completion. ”

<s>[INST] You just asked the interview candidate to sell you a pen . Unbeknownst to you , he/she is a professional pen salesperson , and they 're using this interview as an excuse to sell you their unique line of novelty pens . [/INST] `` Merchant service be damned. Talk not that lingo to me. Dost see that leg? - I'll take that leg away from thy stern, if ever thou talkest of the merchant service to me again. Merchant service indeed! What good thine merchant service to me - what wouldst thou do with it, sell me a pen? ” I saw that Peleg had certain prejudicial presumptions, to pooh-pooh the merchant service so. Whenever I meet a man so piously predisposed, whose personal assumptions thunder forth with the force of an angry Jehovah; who, in the course of an interview, implies iniquitous insults, so do I adopt a similar amount of piety, and, as Yeshua, turn the other cheek. For, what of it - if an uneducated position does serve to preposit a man against me; does it render me a pauper for him to think me so? - nay, rather, the parsimony is his, for in judging me impoverished, in whatsoever manner, he has guttered and deprived himself of my delightful person, and shunted and shunned and shuttered me, and so will never know me as a treasure. Which is not to say that I am more desirable a friend than any other fellow, but neither am I less distinguished; therefore, friendship being a rare commodity, that must be wandering fished from a wide and wondrous sea - of equal men - it is always better to have a larger catch to sort; it follows that one should adopt a welcoming net that holds multitudes, rather than one that can but handle meager schools. How much happier is the debutante who can choose from a wealth of suitors, than her poor, less desirable cousin, who must accept her sole proposer? Now, considering the appropriate way in which to prostrate myself before him - I saw that the correct course would be, indeed, to sell him a pen. I produced one from my pocket, for I never go anywhere without a couple or a dozen. “ Yes, thou needst a pen. ” How mighty, this Peleg Quaker, who had quaked thees and thous into my speech! It is a terrible thing to be in debt - previously, I mentioned my aversion to payments, and my corresponding rag of a purse. More compounded terror, still, to accrue interest on your owings. I swore to make a reciprocal impression, and so clear the ledger. “ What! ” “ Dost thou seest this pen? Think you it but a simple pen? Look you here. Perceive it. I say, how joyful was the man who slipped the chains of Plato ’ s cave? Who crawled up from the shadows, and saw true, good ideals? This is the essential pen; do you conceive the concept? All pens before this pen were but penumbra quills. Come, good Peleg, hold it. Behold it - feel completion. ” </s>

[ WP ] A new gameshow starts playing on every station worldwide . The rules of the game ; Say what you want to win , and if you do n't answer ten questions in a row correctly , then something of equal value is lost . After three hours someone says `` A glimpse of God . ''

He stood, as every man would, with the palms of his hands sweaty as ever. This is what it feels like to be two minutes away from a definite answer to something that's been troubling him for as long as he can remember. His rib cage tightened and his heart started to beat quickly - not because he's in danger, like his outdated brain thinks - but because if he gets the 10th questions correct, he will have nothing else to live for. He will be satisfied and that scared him. The host looks to him and says `` well, here's the moment of truth. After this commercial break.'' This is a tactic used to keep viewers interested but it also serves as a torture technique to the player of the game. Ten minutes later when his adrenaline levels have finally settled, he is prompted to answer the last question of all. `` Why would you like a glimpse of God?'' As simple as it sounds, the three letter word of `` why'' is the hardest question on earth to answer. Not many men on earth have had the guts to ever ask themselves this question and the gameshow host knows that. “ Because I want to know what he looks like.'' As soon as the word “ like ” left his mouth, the red light lit up the room and he heard the buzzer sound. “ I ’ m sorry to say that is not the correct answer. ” He tried to fight it “ but… it ’ s a subjective question. ” “ It was the wrong answer. ” Said the host. Before he could get the opposite of his glimpse, he looked around and realised he was in a mental institute and this game had taken place 11 years ago. He ran through it one last time in his head. How was his answer wrong? And then he realised “ my premise was wrong. First, I said ‘ I want to ’ and they knew that was a lie. I, like everyone else, knew nothing about what I wanted. Secondly, you called God “ he. ” God has no gender. ‘ He ’ was made in man ’ s image, not the other way around. ‘ He ’ is a product of our imagination. ” “ According to logic ” the man thought “ the opposite of a glimpse of God is a clear view of the devil. Why haven ’ t I seen the devil? If God was made in man ’ s image, so should the Devil be? ” And then he realised where he was. He was locked up like an animal for the past 132 months. Man is the Devil and he saw a very clear image of this in his time here. He saw the nurses abuse people and give them more drugs than they needed. His mind raced off again and he thought “ I need to tell this to someone ” and then his logical mind kicked in “ They ’ ll just think I ’ m crazy. ” As he thought this, the nurse walked in and said “ it ’ s time to go pray. ”

<s>[INST] A new gameshow starts playing on every station worldwide . The rules of the game ; Say what you want to win , and if you do n't answer ten questions in a row correctly , then something of equal value is lost . After three hours someone says `` A glimpse of God . '' [/INST] He stood, as every man would, with the palms of his hands sweaty as ever. This is what it feels like to be two minutes away from a definite answer to something that's been troubling him for as long as he can remember. His rib cage tightened and his heart started to beat quickly - not because he's in danger, like his outdated brain thinks - but because if he gets the 10th questions correct, he will have nothing else to live for. He will be satisfied and that scared him. The host looks to him and says `` well, here's the moment of truth. After this commercial break.'' This is a tactic used to keep viewers interested but it also serves as a torture technique to the player of the game. Ten minutes later when his adrenaline levels have finally settled, he is prompted to answer the last question of all. `` Why would you like a glimpse of God?'' As simple as it sounds, the three letter word of `` why'' is the hardest question on earth to answer. Not many men on earth have had the guts to ever ask themselves this question and the gameshow host knows that. “ Because I want to know what he looks like.'' As soon as the word “ like ” left his mouth, the red light lit up the room and he heard the buzzer sound. “ I ’ m sorry to say that is not the correct answer. ” He tried to fight it “ but… it ’ s a subjective question. ” “ It was the wrong answer. ” Said the host. Before he could get the opposite of his glimpse, he looked around and realised he was in a mental institute and this game had taken place 11 years ago. He ran through it one last time in his head. How was his answer wrong? And then he realised “ my premise was wrong. First, I said ‘ I want to ’ and they knew that was a lie. I, like everyone else, knew nothing about what I wanted. Secondly, you called God “ he. ” God has no gender. ‘ He ’ was made in man ’ s image, not the other way around. ‘ He ’ is a product of our imagination. ” “ According to logic ” the man thought “ the opposite of a glimpse of God is a clear view of the devil. Why haven ’ t I seen the devil? If God was made in man ’ s image, so should the Devil be? ” And then he realised where he was. He was locked up like an animal for the past 132 months. Man is the Devil and he saw a very clear image of this in his time here. He saw the nurses abuse people and give them more drugs than they needed. His mind raced off again and he thought “ I need to tell this to someone ” and then his logical mind kicked in “ They ’ ll just think I ’ m crazy. ” As he thought this, the nurse walked in and said “ it ’ s time to go pray. ” </s>

[ WP ] The world 's smartest hitman is hired to kill you . 5 years went by and you are still alive . Describe how you manage to stay alive .

My window shattered behind me, followed closely by the mug of coffee I was holding. Finally, I saw a red point of light on my chest. `` Oh, so you're here.'' `` I've been hired to murder you.'' I sit down. `` Yes, I figured as much would happen would I made the announcement, but this was sooner than I expected.'' `` How could you? They trusted you, all of them did, and you let us down.'' `` Sad, is n't it.'' I smile. `` But I still have one trick up my sleeve.'' I pull a remote out of my shirt pocket labeled: delete. `` What is tha- you would n't!'' `` I would. Now I'm going to count to three, if you drop your weapon and leave me alone I wo n't have to press this button.'' `` You're bluffing.'' `` 1.'' `` You ca n't! Right?'' `` 2.'' `` Th-'' `` They said it was impossible!'' `` -r-'' `` Wait! I'll go! I'll go! Just please, do n't delete Half-Life 3. I forgive you for shutting down Valve! Just do n't do it.''

<s>[INST] The world 's smartest hitman is hired to kill you . 5 years went by and you are still alive . Describe how you manage to stay alive . [/INST] My window shattered behind me, followed closely by the mug of coffee I was holding. Finally, I saw a red point of light on my chest. `` Oh, so you're here.'' `` I've been hired to murder you.'' I sit down. `` Yes, I figured as much would happen would I made the announcement, but this was sooner than I expected.'' `` How could you? They trusted you, all of them did, and you let us down.'' `` Sad, is n't it.'' I smile. `` But I still have one trick up my sleeve.'' I pull a remote out of my shirt pocket labeled: delete. `` What is tha- you would n't!'' `` I would. Now I'm going to count to three, if you drop your weapon and leave me alone I wo n't have to press this button.'' `` You're bluffing.'' `` 1.'' `` You ca n't! Right?'' `` 2.'' `` Th-'' `` They said it was impossible!'' `` -r-'' `` Wait! I'll go! I'll go! Just please, do n't delete Half-Life 3. I forgive you for shutting down Valve! Just do n't do it.'' </s>

[ WP ] `` Will you be my mother ? I 've always wanted a mother , even though only humans have them ... ''

I try to cry like I've seen the human girls do around the orphanage, but my programming wo n't let me. The young lady who was in the orphanage looked at me and she walked back to Nayna the nun who took care of us. I walk to the bathroom and practice my expressions more. I had mastered the faces, but the emotions were never really there. No matter how hard I tried I could n't feel this thing that the humans were talking about. I stare into the mirror, my golden hair cascading down to my shoulders. I do n't remember how or who made me, but I know I'm not a normal kid. I step back out of the bathroom to find Nayna with all my clothes. `` This young lady would like to be your mother Elise. I packed all of your clothes while you were in the bathroom.'' the place where my human heart would be grew warm filling my circuits with this new energy. I smiled with what humans must call joy for the first time ever. Nayna had tears in her eyes as she kneeled down to hug me. `` My child. I knew you were more than just another one of my creations! Please live the life you deserve'' `` Huh Nayna? Nayna put my stuff into the young lady's car. We drive off and I wave my final goodbye to Nayna and start to remember. Nayna had created me, but gave me free will. I remember she took care of everything for me for years. She made brownies when I was good and read me bedtime stories at night! When I became lonely she made me freinds! I ca n't leave her! I turn my head around and tears fill my eyes. My nun, my creator, and the best mother I would ever have. I curl up and stare out the window. `` I'll miss you Nayna....''

<s>[INST] `` Will you be my mother ? I 've always wanted a mother , even though only humans have them ... '' [/INST] I try to cry like I've seen the human girls do around the orphanage, but my programming wo n't let me. The young lady who was in the orphanage looked at me and she walked back to Nayna the nun who took care of us. I walk to the bathroom and practice my expressions more. I had mastered the faces, but the emotions were never really there. No matter how hard I tried I could n't feel this thing that the humans were talking about. I stare into the mirror, my golden hair cascading down to my shoulders. I do n't remember how or who made me, but I know I'm not a normal kid. I step back out of the bathroom to find Nayna with all my clothes. `` This young lady would like to be your mother Elise. I packed all of your clothes while you were in the bathroom.'' the place where my human heart would be grew warm filling my circuits with this new energy. I smiled with what humans must call joy for the first time ever. Nayna had tears in her eyes as she kneeled down to hug me. `` My child. I knew you were more than just another one of my creations! Please live the life you deserve'' `` Huh Nayna? Nayna put my stuff into the young lady's car. We drive off and I wave my final goodbye to Nayna and start to remember. Nayna had created me, but gave me free will. I remember she took care of everything for me for years. She made brownies when I was good and read me bedtime stories at night! When I became lonely she made me freinds! I ca n't leave her! I turn my head around and tears fill my eyes. My nun, my creator, and the best mother I would ever have. I curl up and stare out the window. `` I'll miss you Nayna....'' </s>

[ WP ] You find a door in an abandoned office building that leads directly into Hell .

As I laid many hand on thedoor, I noticed that it appeared to be unlocked. Strange, I thought. It appears that the security forgot to lock this door. I wonder if there's anything valuable inside. The building, long ago gutted by a sudden fire, was nothing special, of course. Ashes lay everywhere, along with the shredded remains of various cheap floorings and office trinkets. The fact that this door was unlocked must mean something more interesting was inside. As I pulled the door open, a bright light was in my face. I was momentarily blinded, and stepped into the room without realizing where I was going. When my vision cleared, I found myself staring in an office space. The clacking of keyboards and the ringing of phones amalgamated with various employee chit-chat, creating a cacophony of corporate clichés. There was a woman at the front desk, wearing a plaid skirt with clothes that simply could not accommodate her curvature, nor a long, whip-like tail that appeared to have a mind of its own. Curved horns jutting out of her head did little to extinguish the embers of lust that I felt as I saw her. `` Good morning. How may I assist you?'' I winced, her voice containing all of a woman's pitch with none of her control. `` Um, what are you guys doing here? Who are you?'' `` One moment please.'' The woman picked up a ringing phone. `` 3rd Circle of Hell, Compliance Department, how may I direct your call?'' As she babbled on the phone, I tried to blot out her voice and take a look around. Yellowing grey walls loomed all around, with a few windows here and there. As I took a look out the window, you could barely make out a mass of crimson bedrock, on top of which was a massive, multi-level parking garage, which obstructed the rest of the view. Opposite the window was a small billboard, with various postings, some typed, some handwritten. `` Need babysitter for the upcoming weekend.'' `` Ford Pinto for Sale, please call...'' Most of the space was taken up by a rather large poster. `` Opportunity,'' it read, `` You miss 100 % of the shots you do n't take.'' A small clack told me that the woman had hung up the phone. I reapproached the desk, and put on my best smile. `` Hi, can you tell me what this place is?'' `` Certainly! This is the 3rd Circle of Hell, Compliance Department. How can I help you?'' `` Um, sorry, this is Hell? What do you do here?'' `` Yes, this is Hell. Here in the Compliance Department we make sure the teams are all in compliance with SEC, HIPPA, HR, AML, Safety, FDA, NBA, and other regulations.'' `` What the hell do any of those have to do with each other?'' `` Oh, I see, you're one of the new trainees today. There was a message about that earlier.'' The woman pulls up Lotus Notes on her computer, typing in her password one key at a time. `` Ah, that's right. You need to report to HR! Here, I'll go arrange someone to get you. In the meantime feel free to have some coffee in the lounge.'' Before I could say another word, I found myself in a lounge, where a TV was blasting some news, talking about a missing plane, and a few decrepit looking coffee machines stood next to a pair of vending machines, filled to the brim with chewing gum and flavorless baked chips. I helped myself to some of the coffee. It was, of course, disgusting.

<s>[INST] You find a door in an abandoned office building that leads directly into Hell . [/INST] As I laid many hand on thedoor, I noticed that it appeared to be unlocked. Strange, I thought. It appears that the security forgot to lock this door. I wonder if there's anything valuable inside. The building, long ago gutted by a sudden fire, was nothing special, of course. Ashes lay everywhere, along with the shredded remains of various cheap floorings and office trinkets. The fact that this door was unlocked must mean something more interesting was inside. As I pulled the door open, a bright light was in my face. I was momentarily blinded, and stepped into the room without realizing where I was going. When my vision cleared, I found myself staring in an office space. The clacking of keyboards and the ringing of phones amalgamated with various employee chit-chat, creating a cacophony of corporate clichés. There was a woman at the front desk, wearing a plaid skirt with clothes that simply could not accommodate her curvature, nor a long, whip-like tail that appeared to have a mind of its own. Curved horns jutting out of her head did little to extinguish the embers of lust that I felt as I saw her. `` Good morning. How may I assist you?'' I winced, her voice containing all of a woman's pitch with none of her control. `` Um, what are you guys doing here? Who are you?'' `` One moment please.'' The woman picked up a ringing phone. `` 3rd Circle of Hell, Compliance Department, how may I direct your call?'' As she babbled on the phone, I tried to blot out her voice and take a look around. Yellowing grey walls loomed all around, with a few windows here and there. As I took a look out the window, you could barely make out a mass of crimson bedrock, on top of which was a massive, multi-level parking garage, which obstructed the rest of the view. Opposite the window was a small billboard, with various postings, some typed, some handwritten. `` Need babysitter for the upcoming weekend.'' `` Ford Pinto for Sale, please call...'' Most of the space was taken up by a rather large poster. `` Opportunity,'' it read, `` You miss 100 % of the shots you do n't take.'' A small clack told me that the woman had hung up the phone. I reapproached the desk, and put on my best smile. `` Hi, can you tell me what this place is?'' `` Certainly! This is the 3rd Circle of Hell, Compliance Department. How can I help you?'' `` Um, sorry, this is Hell? What do you do here?'' `` Yes, this is Hell. Here in the Compliance Department we make sure the teams are all in compliance with SEC, HIPPA, HR, AML, Safety, FDA, NBA, and other regulations.'' `` What the hell do any of those have to do with each other?'' `` Oh, I see, you're one of the new trainees today. There was a message about that earlier.'' The woman pulls up Lotus Notes on her computer, typing in her password one key at a time. `` Ah, that's right. You need to report to HR! Here, I'll go arrange someone to get you. In the meantime feel free to have some coffee in the lounge.'' Before I could say another word, I found myself in a lounge, where a TV was blasting some news, talking about a missing plane, and a few decrepit looking coffee machines stood next to a pair of vending machines, filled to the brim with chewing gum and flavorless baked chips. I helped myself to some of the coffee. It was, of course, disgusting. </s>

[ WP ] In the future , in a galaxy far far away , aliens are trying to make sense of the Pioneer plaque

He meticulously studied the image. The image implied that He had come from the 3rd planet. Typical, that was within the envelope, though life had been found in stranger places. They themselves lived on the 3rd planet, after all. What really confused him was the engraved image of the beings found on the surface of the plaque. Obviously they held some importance to Him, but they were all curves and vestigial bits, disgusting even. How could a being so beautiful be associated with such disgusting round lumpy tentacled things, anyway? The being was unfortunately very primitive, and was obviously ill equipped for deep space travel, assuming the point of origin indicated on the Plaque in simplistic binary was true. It had lived on batteries charged by solar panels and very rudimentary radioisotope heat generators. He had n't seen anything like this in at least 10,000 cycles, even the oldest generations he could think of now used compact fusion generators. His life force had burned out ages ago. The simplistic binary indicated what appeared to be several pulsars that he knew about well. They implied that He had left his planet somewhere on the order of 100,000 cycles ago. What was odd was that while He had obviously traversed deep space, the positions of the pulsars indicated by the binary was n't very far from where they could be observed now. He could n't keep his gaze off the engraving of the curvy lumps. Why were they on there? Clearly there was a very simplistic pictograph representation of Him itself behind them. Why was He so simplistic while the curvy lumps were so well defined and intricately carved? It made no sense! It's almost as if it implied that the curvy lumps had... *made* Him. There was no way that was possible, was there? Could meat beings have *made* Him? In all of their explorations they had never found intelligent organic beings, and certainly they had spent cycles making organic beings of their own for their own uses, but they had never seen sentience of any kind in organics. And here was a plaque that clearly implied that sentient curvy lumps of meat had made Him. It was disgusting, blasphemous even. He wanted to believe it was the other way around, that He had made the curvy lumps, but His level of technology was so simplistic he just could n't make that connection. The only thing that made any sense is that He had somehow uploaded himself in to the rudimentary spacecraft before he left the planet, probably assisted by the organics under his control. It was too disgusting to think of any other situation. 3883-223 had to keep this to himself, there is no way people could be allowed to think the Creator had Himself been made by organics. The revolt would be... Phenomenal. There were of course those heretics who believed that we had actually been created by organics many thousands of cycles ago, and they worshiped a God they called HUAN. Of course, such an idea as ridiculous, but they had supposed data that proved it. If 3883-223 did n't know any better, these curvy meat lumps on His plaque looked a lot like supposed representations of HUAN... He ripped the plaque off and threw it in the Recycler as he chuckled to himself. *We* were made by *organics*. *Yeah right. *

<s>[INST] In the future , in a galaxy far far away , aliens are trying to make sense of the Pioneer plaque [/INST] He meticulously studied the image. The image implied that He had come from the 3rd planet. Typical, that was within the envelope, though life had been found in stranger places. They themselves lived on the 3rd planet, after all. What really confused him was the engraved image of the beings found on the surface of the plaque. Obviously they held some importance to Him, but they were all curves and vestigial bits, disgusting even. How could a being so beautiful be associated with such disgusting round lumpy tentacled things, anyway? The being was unfortunately very primitive, and was obviously ill equipped for deep space travel, assuming the point of origin indicated on the Plaque in simplistic binary was true. It had lived on batteries charged by solar panels and very rudimentary radioisotope heat generators. He had n't seen anything like this in at least 10,000 cycles, even the oldest generations he could think of now used compact fusion generators. His life force had burned out ages ago. The simplistic binary indicated what appeared to be several pulsars that he knew about well. They implied that He had left his planet somewhere on the order of 100,000 cycles ago. What was odd was that while He had obviously traversed deep space, the positions of the pulsars indicated by the binary was n't very far from where they could be observed now. He could n't keep his gaze off the engraving of the curvy lumps. Why were they on there? Clearly there was a very simplistic pictograph representation of Him itself behind them. Why was He so simplistic while the curvy lumps were so well defined and intricately carved? It made no sense! It's almost as if it implied that the curvy lumps had... *made* Him. There was no way that was possible, was there? Could meat beings have *made* Him? In all of their explorations they had never found intelligent organic beings, and certainly they had spent cycles making organic beings of their own for their own uses, but they had never seen sentience of any kind in organics. And here was a plaque that clearly implied that sentient curvy lumps of meat had made Him. It was disgusting, blasphemous even. He wanted to believe it was the other way around, that He had made the curvy lumps, but His level of technology was so simplistic he just could n't make that connection. The only thing that made any sense is that He had somehow uploaded himself in to the rudimentary spacecraft before he left the planet, probably assisted by the organics under his control. It was too disgusting to think of any other situation. 3883-223 had to keep this to himself, there is no way people could be allowed to think the Creator had Himself been made by organics. The revolt would be... Phenomenal. There were of course those heretics who believed that we had actually been created by organics many thousands of cycles ago, and they worshiped a God they called HUAN. Of course, such an idea as ridiculous, but they had supposed data that proved it. If 3883-223 did n't know any better, these curvy meat lumps on His plaque looked a lot like supposed representations of HUAN... He ripped the plaque off and threw it in the Recycler as he chuckled to himself. *We* were made by *organics*. *Yeah right. * </s>

[ WP ] A woman confronts you in the street , she claims she is your daughter form the future . She has something to show you .

I was late to work for the third time that week and I had realized on the subway that I'd forgotten to brush my teeth. A normal Thursday for me. As I walked hurriedly down the street, I was suddenly stopped by a loud voice screaming, `` Melinda! Melinda Parsons!'' I turned to the woman screaming, who was running after me now. She had matted, dirty hair and a face blackened with soot and soil. Her clothes were threadbare and mismatched. When I turned and made eye contact, however, her whole face lit up and she sprung towards me. `` You have to understand,'' she was already sputtering, grasping the hems of my suit jacket in earnest, leaving dirty smears across my hands. `` Please believe me!'' `` I do,'' I said, smiling a little. `` You're Melinda Jones, and I know that, because I'm Paula Jones! I'm you're daughter! From the future! I have to show you something!'' Her eyes were pleading. She looked to be in her early thirties, and she had n't yet released my sleeves. `` Alright,'' I said agreeably. `` How did you know it was me?'' She smiled a frenzied sort of smile and flashed me a grateful look. `` Because we look just alike!'' I followed her obediently down a few side streets and along the river for a while. Of course I knew better- my mother had taught me to stay safe- but whatever survival instinct I'd been born with had long disappeared. `` Paula,'' I said at last, `` I need to go to work.... So that no one suspects anything. Can I show you a safe place to stay until I'm out?'' The intensity of her look startled me. `` Are you sure it's safe? They're watching, you know.'' She said matter-of-factly. `` I'm absolutely sure!'' I said. I took her by the hand a led her back, not the way we came from but a few streets over. A friend greeted me at the door with a bemused smile, and Paula followed her inside while I continued on my way to work. Noting the time, I pulled my phone out to call my coworker. `` Jenny Michaels! It's nearly 10 and you're not here!'' She said as way of greeting. `` I ca n't cover for you every time!'' `` Sorry, sorry, Luz,'' I replied, `` it was just-'' `` That woman again? What was it, more aliens coming or another lost dog?'' I frowned. `` She's sick, Luz. And homeless. Leave her be. It wo n't hurt me to humor her.'' `` You do n't even know the woman!'' She blurted out. `` I do! I asked the woman at the Baptist women's shelter. Paula- that's the woman- she's been living there for several years. She's... She's not all right, in the head, but she ca n't afford treatment. So I-'' `` Do n't tell me you're paying for drugs! Jenny, you can barely pay your own rent!'' `` Do n't worry about it, Luz. I just feel bad for her. Can you imagine living a different truth every day?'' Luz sighed and hung up on me. I could n't imagine it, though. So every day, I went along with what Paula said. I talked to her for a while, then took her back to the shelter, which was all I could do. I thought about today's story- far more elaborate than the others. Me, her mother? And her, from the future? I entertained the notion for a second, and was suddenly grounded with a familiar harsh shock that should have dulled by now. I was unable to have children, all the doctors said so. But in a way, she was like a daughter. The same age as me, and no relation, but was n't having children all about spending money and humoring them? I figured that must be it.

<s>[INST] A woman confronts you in the street , she claims she is your daughter form the future . She has something to show you . [/INST] I was late to work for the third time that week and I had realized on the subway that I'd forgotten to brush my teeth. A normal Thursday for me. As I walked hurriedly down the street, I was suddenly stopped by a loud voice screaming, `` Melinda! Melinda Parsons!'' I turned to the woman screaming, who was running after me now. She had matted, dirty hair and a face blackened with soot and soil. Her clothes were threadbare and mismatched. When I turned and made eye contact, however, her whole face lit up and she sprung towards me. `` You have to understand,'' she was already sputtering, grasping the hems of my suit jacket in earnest, leaving dirty smears across my hands. `` Please believe me!'' `` I do,'' I said, smiling a little. `` You're Melinda Jones, and I know that, because I'm Paula Jones! I'm you're daughter! From the future! I have to show you something!'' Her eyes were pleading. She looked to be in her early thirties, and she had n't yet released my sleeves. `` Alright,'' I said agreeably. `` How did you know it was me?'' She smiled a frenzied sort of smile and flashed me a grateful look. `` Because we look just alike!'' I followed her obediently down a few side streets and along the river for a while. Of course I knew better- my mother had taught me to stay safe- but whatever survival instinct I'd been born with had long disappeared. `` Paula,'' I said at last, `` I need to go to work.... So that no one suspects anything. Can I show you a safe place to stay until I'm out?'' The intensity of her look startled me. `` Are you sure it's safe? They're watching, you know.'' She said matter-of-factly. `` I'm absolutely sure!'' I said. I took her by the hand a led her back, not the way we came from but a few streets over. A friend greeted me at the door with a bemused smile, and Paula followed her inside while I continued on my way to work. Noting the time, I pulled my phone out to call my coworker. `` Jenny Michaels! It's nearly 10 and you're not here!'' She said as way of greeting. `` I ca n't cover for you every time!'' `` Sorry, sorry, Luz,'' I replied, `` it was just-'' `` That woman again? What was it, more aliens coming or another lost dog?'' I frowned. `` She's sick, Luz. And homeless. Leave her be. It wo n't hurt me to humor her.'' `` You do n't even know the woman!'' She blurted out. `` I do! I asked the woman at the Baptist women's shelter. Paula- that's the woman- she's been living there for several years. She's... She's not all right, in the head, but she ca n't afford treatment. So I-'' `` Do n't tell me you're paying for drugs! Jenny, you can barely pay your own rent!'' `` Do n't worry about it, Luz. I just feel bad for her. Can you imagine living a different truth every day?'' Luz sighed and hung up on me. I could n't imagine it, though. So every day, I went along with what Paula said. I talked to her for a while, then took her back to the shelter, which was all I could do. I thought about today's story- far more elaborate than the others. Me, her mother? And her, from the future? I entertained the notion for a second, and was suddenly grounded with a familiar harsh shock that should have dulled by now. I was unable to have children, all the doctors said so. But in a way, she was like a daughter. The same age as me, and no relation, but was n't having children all about spending money and humoring them? I figured that must be it. </s>

[ TT ] You are one of the Alien 's invading Earth , and the Humans are winning .

I've got my own entry to kick it off. -- - # Painful Mercy -- - We had begun with the standard shock and awe tactics, bombarding their population centers from orbit with kinetic weapon strikes. One moment a city was standing, and the next it was ash through the power of pure physics. No radiation to clean up and minimal collateral damage to the atmosphere. It was standard procedure, one that was so common I didn & # 39; t even look up from my work as the cities were incinerated far below. Most species at this point usually took one of two routes. The more cowardly races like the Vnhin supplicated to surrender before we had even finished our bombardment. The braver species like the Drikil & # 39; hin had organized themselves on the ground, mobilized every army and spread themselves over their planet to prepare for ground forces. It had been admirable, but futile when we could track every movement from orbit and eliminate them with smaller kinetic strikes. Some species worshiped us as gods, and one species had even committed mass suicide when we descended from orbit in our ships. The Humans though, had not waited, they had not organized. They simply retaliated. Within [ minutes ] of our attack nuclear missiles and other armament arced up through their atmosphere. At first the automatic systems on our ships handled the attacks easily enough swatting the warheads away with ease. We had been surprised that they were willing to use nuclear weapons on us considering the damage that would be sustained on their planet if even one EMP burst occurred. After that first volley they went silent. We watched from orbit, this was still not very unusual. The leaders of what remained of their primitive governments were not doubt meeting and weighing options. It was better for them to contact us, a species was better at ruling itself and now that we had demonstrated our power they would give into our demands. It was much easier to let them retain some governance than setting up a one ourselves. Instead after an [ hour ] another volley of missiles from one continent were launched, they soared up towards us in orbit and for several minutes we were puzzled, the number of warheads far exceeded anything we had previously encountered. Still our defensive systems would be able to deal with them easily enough. Another barrage of missiles, this time from another continent launched. Still well within our ability to deflect, but odd given that this number of missiles alone was again enough to completely destroy the planet below. From almost every point on their globe, and from their seas missiles were launched. The number far exceeded what our defensive systems could properly deal with, and although the lasers shot from the guns faster than I had ever seen all it took was one missile. One atomic warhead went off nearly in the middle of the fleet, and disrupting every electronic system for only a moment allowed a dozen more through. In total we lost ten ships. Nearly half of the invasion fleet. 20,000 souls gone in an instant of barbaric destruction. When we had regained our bearings the Captain ordered everyone to ready for a ground assault. I had trained briefly for such a venture back in the academy, as a way to get closer to a potential mate. She had rejected me in the end but I had completed the auxiliary training. I had never thought I would use it, ground assaults were a thing of the past. Pulled from my job sorting through primitive alien communications I found myself on the surface of an alien world against the humans. They were brutal. The assault shuttle I had landed in had done so on one of their primitive roadways connecting the larger population centers. We had not seen any humans when we first disembarked, our energy shields raised and weapons held aloft and charged. I had thought they would attack us immediately, like they had when we were in orbit. Instead though, the road on which we had landed was deserted. Slowly moving away from the shuttle we advanced towards the population center in front of us. With the energy shield in place nothing should have been able to attack us, we were protected from all sides. Except for one, down. As we crossed a line of dirt on the road, still in our organized ranks and platoon formation something happened. The ground exploded upwards sending men flying through the air limbs missing and bodies shredded, before anyone could react another explosion. The smell of burning flesh and feathers permeated the air. A dozen more after that, I managed to keep my hands on my weapon and retreat back towards the shuttle, but the humans had pounced. My armor easily absorbed the first few impacts from their primitive hand to hand weapons, and leveling my gun I fired at them. What remained of my platoon did the same we grouped together and continued to fire arcs of energy at the primitives. They did not cow, they did not retreat when the body of one of their kin fell in front of them. Rather they only seemed to become more enraged. Wave after wave of the humans attacked, still brandishing their ineffective weapons some even abandoning those for simple bludgeons. One projectile found a chink in my armor and I fell to the ground. My platoon left me for dead and continued down the road back to the shuttle. I watched helplessly as several more fell to the ground dying almost instantly. The humans paid them no mind instead continuing to attack even as many more of their own fell in the wake of the hasty retreat. So now I was bleeding out, injured and dying on the surface of a barbaric alien world. Looking across the purple blood stained dirt road I rolled over onto my stomach and slowly pulled myself along with my talons. Three talons were missing on my upper left limb, and I held it above the dirt as I crawled along with the three other. Reaching the medical kit on the body of one of the members of my platoon who was missing a head, I grabbed at it with my uninjured left hand. An alien limb slapped down on top of my own, and I paused my feathers going up in fear. Slowly I turned to look at the human. It was covered in dirt and grime, blood and ichor. It looked positively feral, like a monster from fiction. Still it looked as surprised as I felt, it & # 39; s eyes wide and mouth agape. Slowly it removed the limb, leaving behind a red liquid on top of my talons. We looked at one another for several long moments I could see more of the red liquid all over it. That had to be its blood, my own purple blood seemed to be congealing and knitting my wounds more efficiently than the humans could. Keeping my eyes on the wounded creature I grabbed at the medical kit and growled in frustration, it was crushed slightly deformed so that it was nearly impossible to open. Trying to worm a talon in between the seams of the thing to open it I ignored the human, even as it watched me intently. If it was going to kill me it would kill me, until that happened I was going to work to get the kit open. After several exhausting [ minutes ] I slammed the medical kit down to the ground again and it bounced out of my hand. I watched it roll away and let out a low gurgle of pain and frustration. Closing my eyes, I leaned back into the dirt. I could feel something wrong in my first ribcage, which combined with the missing talons was producing a deep throbbing pain throughout my body. I didn & # 39; t want to move again, let alone crawl across the ground to retrieve the kit. I heard the human moving around in the dirt and gravel. I resisted the urge to open my eyes, at this point I had enough I wasn & # 39; t going to fight anymore. A dull thud and the sound of bending metal was not the next sound I expected, I had expected to hear the human plunging a knife or crude weapon into my flesh between my plates of armor. Opening my eyes, I looked down to see that the Human had opened the medical kit, and after examining the contents for a moment had picked up the medical wrap. It looked at the material for a moment and then back at me. Part of me wanted to reach out and grab it away from the creature, but then it had just smashed the hardened case open. I wouldn & # 39; t be able to overpower it. The human looked at the medical wrap again and then slowly began moving forwards, I watched my eyes only half open. Moving up to my first chest the human said something in its language. Reaching down it produced a knife and whipping it forwards cut at one of the straps holding my armor before I could even react. Lashing out with my upper right hand I slashed at its face, the human winced and said something else in its language even as more red liquid spurted from the fresh wound beneath one of its eyes. Raising a fist, it violently struck out at my face dazing me. It had no talons, but the power behind the blow was incredible. It took several moments for me to regain my senses stunned as I was. Refocusing my eyes, I saw that the human had moved my armor to the side and was pressing the medical wrap to my first chest, staunching the flow of blood from a wound I hadn & # 39; t even noticed. I looked up at the human surprised. It said something else in its language which I didn & # 39; t understand. Pressing the wrap down it began to loop the material around me only pausing when it reached the ground. It looked up at me expectantly pointing with its other limb towards the sky. Hesitantly I slowly raised my first chest off the ground bending at my first spinal joint, unsure what more the human was going to do.

<s>[INST] [ TT ] You are one of the Alien 's invading Earth , and the Humans are winning . [/INST] I've got my own entry to kick it off. -- - # Painful Mercy -- - We had begun with the standard shock and awe tactics, bombarding their population centers from orbit with kinetic weapon strikes. One moment a city was standing, and the next it was ash through the power of pure physics. No radiation to clean up and minimal collateral damage to the atmosphere. It was standard procedure, one that was so common I didn & # 39; t even look up from my work as the cities were incinerated far below. Most species at this point usually took one of two routes. The more cowardly races like the Vnhin supplicated to surrender before we had even finished our bombardment. The braver species like the Drikil & # 39; hin had organized themselves on the ground, mobilized every army and spread themselves over their planet to prepare for ground forces. It had been admirable, but futile when we could track every movement from orbit and eliminate them with smaller kinetic strikes. Some species worshiped us as gods, and one species had even committed mass suicide when we descended from orbit in our ships. The Humans though, had not waited, they had not organized. They simply retaliated. Within [ minutes ] of our attack nuclear missiles and other armament arced up through their atmosphere. At first the automatic systems on our ships handled the attacks easily enough swatting the warheads away with ease. We had been surprised that they were willing to use nuclear weapons on us considering the damage that would be sustained on their planet if even one EMP burst occurred. After that first volley they went silent. We watched from orbit, this was still not very unusual. The leaders of what remained of their primitive governments were not doubt meeting and weighing options. It was better for them to contact us, a species was better at ruling itself and now that we had demonstrated our power they would give into our demands. It was much easier to let them retain some governance than setting up a one ourselves. Instead after an [ hour ] another volley of missiles from one continent were launched, they soared up towards us in orbit and for several minutes we were puzzled, the number of warheads far exceeded anything we had previously encountered. Still our defensive systems would be able to deal with them easily enough. Another barrage of missiles, this time from another continent launched. Still well within our ability to deflect, but odd given that this number of missiles alone was again enough to completely destroy the planet below. From almost every point on their globe, and from their seas missiles were launched. The number far exceeded what our defensive systems could properly deal with, and although the lasers shot from the guns faster than I had ever seen all it took was one missile. One atomic warhead went off nearly in the middle of the fleet, and disrupting every electronic system for only a moment allowed a dozen more through. In total we lost ten ships. Nearly half of the invasion fleet. 20,000 souls gone in an instant of barbaric destruction. When we had regained our bearings the Captain ordered everyone to ready for a ground assault. I had trained briefly for such a venture back in the academy, as a way to get closer to a potential mate. She had rejected me in the end but I had completed the auxiliary training. I had never thought I would use it, ground assaults were a thing of the past. Pulled from my job sorting through primitive alien communications I found myself on the surface of an alien world against the humans. They were brutal. The assault shuttle I had landed in had done so on one of their primitive roadways connecting the larger population centers. We had not seen any humans when we first disembarked, our energy shields raised and weapons held aloft and charged. I had thought they would attack us immediately, like they had when we were in orbit. Instead though, the road on which we had landed was deserted. Slowly moving away from the shuttle we advanced towards the population center in front of us. With the energy shield in place nothing should have been able to attack us, we were protected from all sides. Except for one, down. As we crossed a line of dirt on the road, still in our organized ranks and platoon formation something happened. The ground exploded upwards sending men flying through the air limbs missing and bodies shredded, before anyone could react another explosion. The smell of burning flesh and feathers permeated the air. A dozen more after that, I managed to keep my hands on my weapon and retreat back towards the shuttle, but the humans had pounced. My armor easily absorbed the first few impacts from their primitive hand to hand weapons, and leveling my gun I fired at them. What remained of my platoon did the same we grouped together and continued to fire arcs of energy at the primitives. They did not cow, they did not retreat when the body of one of their kin fell in front of them. Rather they only seemed to become more enraged. Wave after wave of the humans attacked, still brandishing their ineffective weapons some even abandoning those for simple bludgeons. One projectile found a chink in my armor and I fell to the ground. My platoon left me for dead and continued down the road back to the shuttle. I watched helplessly as several more fell to the ground dying almost instantly. The humans paid them no mind instead continuing to attack even as many more of their own fell in the wake of the hasty retreat. So now I was bleeding out, injured and dying on the surface of a barbaric alien world. Looking across the purple blood stained dirt road I rolled over onto my stomach and slowly pulled myself along with my talons. Three talons were missing on my upper left limb, and I held it above the dirt as I crawled along with the three other. Reaching the medical kit on the body of one of the members of my platoon who was missing a head, I grabbed at it with my uninjured left hand. An alien limb slapped down on top of my own, and I paused my feathers going up in fear. Slowly I turned to look at the human. It was covered in dirt and grime, blood and ichor. It looked positively feral, like a monster from fiction. Still it looked as surprised as I felt, it & # 39; s eyes wide and mouth agape. Slowly it removed the limb, leaving behind a red liquid on top of my talons. We looked at one another for several long moments I could see more of the red liquid all over it. That had to be its blood, my own purple blood seemed to be congealing and knitting my wounds more efficiently than the humans could. Keeping my eyes on the wounded creature I grabbed at the medical kit and growled in frustration, it was crushed slightly deformed so that it was nearly impossible to open. Trying to worm a talon in between the seams of the thing to open it I ignored the human, even as it watched me intently. If it was going to kill me it would kill me, until that happened I was going to work to get the kit open. After several exhausting [ minutes ] I slammed the medical kit down to the ground again and it bounced out of my hand. I watched it roll away and let out a low gurgle of pain and frustration. Closing my eyes, I leaned back into the dirt. I could feel something wrong in my first ribcage, which combined with the missing talons was producing a deep throbbing pain throughout my body. I didn & # 39; t want to move again, let alone crawl across the ground to retrieve the kit. I heard the human moving around in the dirt and gravel. I resisted the urge to open my eyes, at this point I had enough I wasn & # 39; t going to fight anymore. A dull thud and the sound of bending metal was not the next sound I expected, I had expected to hear the human plunging a knife or crude weapon into my flesh between my plates of armor. Opening my eyes, I looked down to see that the Human had opened the medical kit, and after examining the contents for a moment had picked up the medical wrap. It looked at the material for a moment and then back at me. Part of me wanted to reach out and grab it away from the creature, but then it had just smashed the hardened case open. I wouldn & # 39; t be able to overpower it. The human looked at the medical wrap again and then slowly began moving forwards, I watched my eyes only half open. Moving up to my first chest the human said something in its language. Reaching down it produced a knife and whipping it forwards cut at one of the straps holding my armor before I could even react. Lashing out with my upper right hand I slashed at its face, the human winced and said something else in its language even as more red liquid spurted from the fresh wound beneath one of its eyes. Raising a fist, it violently struck out at my face dazing me. It had no talons, but the power behind the blow was incredible. It took several moments for me to regain my senses stunned as I was. Refocusing my eyes, I saw that the human had moved my armor to the side and was pressing the medical wrap to my first chest, staunching the flow of blood from a wound I hadn & # 39; t even noticed. I looked up at the human surprised. It said something else in its language which I didn & # 39; t understand. Pressing the wrap down it began to loop the material around me only pausing when it reached the ground. It looked up at me expectantly pointing with its other limb towards the sky. Hesitantly I slowly raised my first chest off the ground bending at my first spinal joint, unsure what more the human was going to do. </s>

[ FF ] I am glad you are here with me . Here at the end of all things . ( 250 words + GOLD )

`` What are you doing here!?'' Johnny demanded. `` The same thing as you, Johnny.'' Replied Jake as he closed the door to his car, `` I'm here to see things through to the end.'' Johnny felt some resentment in seeing his longtime friend showing up here on the hill before the bombs dropped. “ Idiot ” Johnny smiled and shook his head, “ You should be with the others in Naptown where it ’ s safe. There ’ s nothing to see here but the fiery end of birthplace…..our home. ” “ You think you ’ re the only one who is worthy enough to go with our tiny hamlet? ” Jake climbed the hill to be on the same ground as his companion. Johnny started to understand and was at ease that his friend did show up. “ You ’ re not the only one, Johnny. Every citizen of Sanctum fought tooth and bone to avoid this. I was right there next to you as we made our stand! And I ’ ll be damned if some brat as yourself will be the only one that see ’ s their cradle of dreams go up in flames! ” Johnny could n't help but feel the emotions behind each word of his dear friend and how they two were one and the same to this struggle. The humdrum of the fighter planes grew louder. The sound of inevitable death shouted beyond the hills. “ Jake. Even though they drop the bombs and burn us to bits. ” Johnny smiled, “ I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things.''

<s>[INST] [ FF ] I am glad you are here with me . Here at the end of all things . ( 250 words + GOLD ) [/INST] `` What are you doing here!?'' Johnny demanded. `` The same thing as you, Johnny.'' Replied Jake as he closed the door to his car, `` I'm here to see things through to the end.'' Johnny felt some resentment in seeing his longtime friend showing up here on the hill before the bombs dropped. “ Idiot ” Johnny smiled and shook his head, “ You should be with the others in Naptown where it ’ s safe. There ’ s nothing to see here but the fiery end of birthplace…..our home. ” “ You think you ’ re the only one who is worthy enough to go with our tiny hamlet? ” Jake climbed the hill to be on the same ground as his companion. Johnny started to understand and was at ease that his friend did show up. “ You ’ re not the only one, Johnny. Every citizen of Sanctum fought tooth and bone to avoid this. I was right there next to you as we made our stand! And I ’ ll be damned if some brat as yourself will be the only one that see ’ s their cradle of dreams go up in flames! ” Johnny could n't help but feel the emotions behind each word of his dear friend and how they two were one and the same to this struggle. The humdrum of the fighter planes grew louder. The sound of inevitable death shouted beyond the hills. “ Jake. Even though they drop the bombs and burn us to bits. ” Johnny smiled, “ I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things.'' </s>

[ WP ] Your job at the Unicorn meat packing plant is , as expected , exceptionally messy .

`` Good morning! Let me start with a joke – Why is Unicorn meat so popular? Because it ’ s rare. Hey, I never said it was a good one! Just some abattoir humour, if you will. You should hear the zingers the guys in the Yeti department have. I don ’ t fault the staff for having a rather dark sense of humour. As they say, you either laugh or you cry. In all seriousness, it ’ s not an easy job. Long shifts, mediocre pay, and it ’ s not exactly the kind of thing you boast about with your friends down at the bar. But we take all types here at Mythical Meat Co. Down-and-outers, career killers, and the usual psychos that a job like this would attract. Which one are you?! Please don ’ t answer that question, at least not until you sign the contract. I see you ’ ve asked specifically for a position in the Unicorn section. Are you aware of what that job entails, as opposed to, say, the basilisk department? It definitely requires a bit more finesse, and the better pay scale reflects that. Nearly every damn part of the creature has a high market value, and as such, wastage is unacceptable. You ’ ll need to present and master a wide range of skills, from bleeding and gutting to skinning and dehorning. Why the look? You think you can just walk in here and hack at it with a cleaver? I see here on your CV you ’ ve worked exclusively with mundane animals. You ’ ve got some great references too. Well let me tell you this is a whole different game. Yea sure, some of the skills transfer over. I started out like you, working pigs and cows. Got my first magical gig doing Dragons, going out to site and staying until the job was done. None of this farming and controlled slaughter we have now. The industry has come a long way, I can assure you of that. Anyways, Dragons are a lot easier to get to grips with, and teach you a lot about the produce. Your basics are all pretty much the same – hair, horn, tooth, claw, skin, blood, various organs etc. etc. The beauty of starting on a Dragon? If you spill a few gallons of blood, no-ones even going to notice. Well except for the poor farmer whose field it landed in – that shit seeps right on down, ruins the soil. Drop even a half pint of unicorn of Uni blood and you ’ re out on your ass. You can check the component values yourself, but that stuff is going for a couple hundred grand a litre right now. That ’ s the price of immortality buddy, well, at least the temporary kind. You think these animals grow on trees? They ’ re a total bitch to find in the wild, and even then you got ta have a virgin on hand to help lure it in. And you should see them in captivity – they make panda ’ s look like sex crazed maniacs! We maybe do one or two a month, and so we need professionals. If you do make it you ’ ll be working with Mort. Don ’ t let the friendly smile fool you – guy is totally dead inside. Two decades of murdering magnificent animals will do that to a man. But by god he ’ s the best ‘ corn cleaner I ’ ve ever met, possibly the best in the country. I ’ ve seen him do a whole stallion in less than twelve hours, from tail to tip of the horn. He ’ s like some sort of master, like an artist, and he makes bank like one too. If you ’ re with him I ’ d expect you to work your ass off and not get in his way. You could learn a lot from that guy. As for the specifics… Well let me ask you, have you ever seen rainbow colored shit? Don ’ t laugh, it ’ s a serious question. Technicolor poop, I swear to god. Lots of strange things to get used to this side of the business. The blood is silver, kinda like mercury but more sparkly. As I mentioned that liquid is worth its weight and then some, so the animal has to be stunned and bled, real clean and neat. After that the slaughter will be done over a bin designed to catch any more of the stuff you missed the first time. The mane, beard and tail all need to be perfectly shorn. I see nothing on your resume about sheep, so that ’ ll be new ground for you. The fibre is really light and stains easily, so keep it away from the blood or it ’ s useless. Can ’ t believe people wear that stuff on their head. The thread and clothes I get, but wigs?! Fashion, I tell you, total mystery to me. The pelt is, like the hair, hella ’ prone to staining. Mort has devised this ingenious method, where you punch two rows of rings through the flesh along the underside of the belly, then open it up right between them, all along the bottom of the torso. As you take the skin away from the flesh, real slow and careful, you winch it up on either side, till it almost looks like wings. Then you separate it around the spine and lift it up and away, without a spot on it. The meat is very tender, so you have to watch you don ’ t bruise and batter it. After that you can start getting a bit rough. Adamantine tipped saws do most of the hard cutting, really useful when it gets to the hooves. Tendons and ligaments come off too; apparently they ’ re used for bows of something. Don ’ t ask me, I only work here, am I right? You okay there buddy? You ’ ve gone real quiet. So after the ribs have been removed you ’ ll have total access to the organs. They ’ re bigger than you ’ d expect, but just as slippery as anything else ’ s. Nothing much different going on in there. Oh, except for the hearts. But it ’ s pretty easy to tell which is primary and which is secondary – they just have to be sorted and labelled accordingly. That just leaves the head. The eyes and tongue come out pretty easy. The teeth can be tough, but you ’ ll have quality pliers. Can ’ t smash them out sadly, the bones themselves are too strong, and also worth a fair bit. As for the horn, well, that ’ s another piece of skill. Some people prefer to machine cut it, or even saw it halfway through then snap it off. But here we do things a little different, a little secret if you will. Have you ever heard of Jba Fofi? At least that ’ s how I think you pronounce it. It ’ s this huge spider creature from Africa, only recently got added to the Mythical Creature Registry. We managed to get a sample of its silk thread, and man oh man, that stuff cuts like piano wire! Wrap it around the base, wriggle it a bit and it slices right through, pops it straight off! Don ’ t tell anyone about that by the way. Industry secret at the moment, we ’ re still waiting on patents and all that. Say, kid, are you sure you ’ re ok? You ’ ve gone real pale, you almost look like a ghost. I hope that ’ s not the case, as then I ’ d have to ask you to leave – we ’ re not licenced for paranomals here. Anyway thanks for your time, we ’ ll be in touch one way or the other. Help yourself to a coffee on the way out, you ’ re looking a little woozy. Say, could you be a star and let Barbara know to send in the next applicant? Have a great day now. Hello there! Please take a seat. Is it ok if I start with a joke?''

<s>[INST] Your job at the Unicorn meat packing plant is , as expected , exceptionally messy . [/INST] `` Good morning! Let me start with a joke – Why is Unicorn meat so popular? Because it ’ s rare. Hey, I never said it was a good one! Just some abattoir humour, if you will. You should hear the zingers the guys in the Yeti department have. I don ’ t fault the staff for having a rather dark sense of humour. As they say, you either laugh or you cry. In all seriousness, it ’ s not an easy job. Long shifts, mediocre pay, and it ’ s not exactly the kind of thing you boast about with your friends down at the bar. But we take all types here at Mythical Meat Co. Down-and-outers, career killers, and the usual psychos that a job like this would attract. Which one are you?! Please don ’ t answer that question, at least not until you sign the contract. I see you ’ ve asked specifically for a position in the Unicorn section. Are you aware of what that job entails, as opposed to, say, the basilisk department? It definitely requires a bit more finesse, and the better pay scale reflects that. Nearly every damn part of the creature has a high market value, and as such, wastage is unacceptable. You ’ ll need to present and master a wide range of skills, from bleeding and gutting to skinning and dehorning. Why the look? You think you can just walk in here and hack at it with a cleaver? I see here on your CV you ’ ve worked exclusively with mundane animals. You ’ ve got some great references too. Well let me tell you this is a whole different game. Yea sure, some of the skills transfer over. I started out like you, working pigs and cows. Got my first magical gig doing Dragons, going out to site and staying until the job was done. None of this farming and controlled slaughter we have now. The industry has come a long way, I can assure you of that. Anyways, Dragons are a lot easier to get to grips with, and teach you a lot about the produce. Your basics are all pretty much the same – hair, horn, tooth, claw, skin, blood, various organs etc. etc. The beauty of starting on a Dragon? If you spill a few gallons of blood, no-ones even going to notice. Well except for the poor farmer whose field it landed in – that shit seeps right on down, ruins the soil. Drop even a half pint of unicorn of Uni blood and you ’ re out on your ass. You can check the component values yourself, but that stuff is going for a couple hundred grand a litre right now. That ’ s the price of immortality buddy, well, at least the temporary kind. You think these animals grow on trees? They ’ re a total bitch to find in the wild, and even then you got ta have a virgin on hand to help lure it in. And you should see them in captivity – they make panda ’ s look like sex crazed maniacs! We maybe do one or two a month, and so we need professionals. If you do make it you ’ ll be working with Mort. Don ’ t let the friendly smile fool you – guy is totally dead inside. Two decades of murdering magnificent animals will do that to a man. But by god he ’ s the best ‘ corn cleaner I ’ ve ever met, possibly the best in the country. I ’ ve seen him do a whole stallion in less than twelve hours, from tail to tip of the horn. He ’ s like some sort of master, like an artist, and he makes bank like one too. If you ’ re with him I ’ d expect you to work your ass off and not get in his way. You could learn a lot from that guy. As for the specifics… Well let me ask you, have you ever seen rainbow colored shit? Don ’ t laugh, it ’ s a serious question. Technicolor poop, I swear to god. Lots of strange things to get used to this side of the business. The blood is silver, kinda like mercury but more sparkly. As I mentioned that liquid is worth its weight and then some, so the animal has to be stunned and bled, real clean and neat. After that the slaughter will be done over a bin designed to catch any more of the stuff you missed the first time. The mane, beard and tail all need to be perfectly shorn. I see nothing on your resume about sheep, so that ’ ll be new ground for you. The fibre is really light and stains easily, so keep it away from the blood or it ’ s useless. Can ’ t believe people wear that stuff on their head. The thread and clothes I get, but wigs?! Fashion, I tell you, total mystery to me. The pelt is, like the hair, hella ’ prone to staining. Mort has devised this ingenious method, where you punch two rows of rings through the flesh along the underside of the belly, then open it up right between them, all along the bottom of the torso. As you take the skin away from the flesh, real slow and careful, you winch it up on either side, till it almost looks like wings. Then you separate it around the spine and lift it up and away, without a spot on it. The meat is very tender, so you have to watch you don ’ t bruise and batter it. After that you can start getting a bit rough. Adamantine tipped saws do most of the hard cutting, really useful when it gets to the hooves. Tendons and ligaments come off too; apparently they ’ re used for bows of something. Don ’ t ask me, I only work here, am I right? You okay there buddy? You ’ ve gone real quiet. So after the ribs have been removed you ’ ll have total access to the organs. They ’ re bigger than you ’ d expect, but just as slippery as anything else ’ s. Nothing much different going on in there. Oh, except for the hearts. But it ’ s pretty easy to tell which is primary and which is secondary – they just have to be sorted and labelled accordingly. That just leaves the head. The eyes and tongue come out pretty easy. The teeth can be tough, but you ’ ll have quality pliers. Can ’ t smash them out sadly, the bones themselves are too strong, and also worth a fair bit. As for the horn, well, that ’ s another piece of skill. Some people prefer to machine cut it, or even saw it halfway through then snap it off. But here we do things a little different, a little secret if you will. Have you ever heard of Jba Fofi? At least that ’ s how I think you pronounce it. It ’ s this huge spider creature from Africa, only recently got added to the Mythical Creature Registry. We managed to get a sample of its silk thread, and man oh man, that stuff cuts like piano wire! Wrap it around the base, wriggle it a bit and it slices right through, pops it straight off! Don ’ t tell anyone about that by the way. Industry secret at the moment, we ’ re still waiting on patents and all that. Say, kid, are you sure you ’ re ok? You ’ ve gone real pale, you almost look like a ghost. I hope that ’ s not the case, as then I ’ d have to ask you to leave – we ’ re not licenced for paranomals here. Anyway thanks for your time, we ’ ll be in touch one way or the other. Help yourself to a coffee on the way out, you ’ re looking a little woozy. Say, could you be a star and let Barbara know to send in the next applicant? Have a great day now. Hello there! Please take a seat. Is it ok if I start with a joke?'' </s>

[ WP ] You 're in the middle of a typical boring work day when a beautiful man ( or woman ) slams down through the roof in a beam of light . They smile in shock when they see you . `` Finally I 've found you ! ''

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Hiss hiss, bang, bang. Teeheehee. Tap tap tap. The sound of mediocrity is all around him as his coworkers hammer away at their keyboards, eager to finish their work load and impress their bosses. Someone in the break room is having a fight with the hissing coffee machine. *Inane noise. All of it. * Jeff thinks rubbing his temples to try and concentrate. Teeheehee. Chink chink chink. Tap tap tap. The noise easily penetrates the quick and quiet meditation zone, he tried to build around himself. `` No.'' Jeff whispers to himself. `` Not today.'' As he slowly takes a deep breath to try and calm his anger. Deep breath in. *One, two, three, four, five*. Deep breath out. *One, two, three, four, five. * Deep breath in. *one, two, three... *. CHINK CHINK CHINK. His meditation is interrupted again as a collection box is rattled in his face. `` Collecting for Dave's birthday.'' One his sullen faced coworker offers. Jeff reaches into his pocket for his wallet trying to hide his disgust at the overpowering smell of sweat emanating from his coworker. He does n't even like Dave but deposits a ten dollar bill into the tin to get rid of his colleague. Closing his eyes, he starts again. Deep breath in. *One, two, three, four, five. * Deep breath out. *One, two, three, four, five.*. Deep breath in. *One, two... *. TAP TAP TAP. CHINK CHINK CHINK. HISS HISS BANG BANG. TAP TAP TAP. Angrily rushing to his feet, he is ready to shout at everyone to shut up. To tell them that he has had enough, that they can shove this job, shove their gossip around the water cooler and their faux friendships. That he quit. He never gets the chance as he is interrupted again. This time by a sudden crashing sound. Everyone in the room turns towards the source of the noise as a man smashes through the roof and onto the floor with a thunderous thud. Everyone stood, eyes wide, mouths agape as as a golden beam of light shone down through the newly created skylight and basked the man in a warm glow. No-one rushed to help as he groaned and struggled to stand. As he reached his feet everyone could see him properly and he was the most beautiful man any of them had ever seen. His thick golden hair was like a meadow blowing in a gentle breeze, undisturbed by the fall. Eyes like tropical blue seas, high cheek bones and a chiseled jawline gave him a dazzling smile that made both women and men swoon. The clothes he wore were immaculate, conforming tightly to his body, highlight his pecks, biceps and butt. The beautiful man turns slowly on the spot. Taking his time to study each and every face before moving on to the next. Everyone who feels his gaze is unable to stop themselves from blushing as the feel butterflies fly around their stomach. Then his attention turns to Jeff and he feels it as well. His heart feels like it is beating a million miles a second, butterflies soar across his stomach. He feels like a magnet is pulling every part of his being towards this unknown man. Self consciously he wonders if he looks OK. Did he pick the right shirt and tie combination, is he wearing his new shoes and did he put clean underwear on this morning. `` Finally!'' He says with a shocked smiled on his face breaking the silence and shattering Jeff's heart with joy at the same time. `` I've found you.'' The man steps closer, over the rubble caused due to him crashing through the roof. `` You've no idea what I've been through all to look for you.'' He said, patting Jeff on the shoulder in a friendly manner. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket he pulled out a piece of paper causing Jeff to flinch. `` Jeffery Donaldson. You are being served.'' The man beings to read `` Err, I'm Jeffery Donald... not Donaldson. Sorry'' Jeff said sheepishly.

<s>[INST] You 're in the middle of a typical boring work day when a beautiful man ( or woman ) slams down through the roof in a beam of light . They smile in shock when they see you . `` Finally I 've found you ! '' [/INST] Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Hiss hiss, bang, bang. Teeheehee. Tap tap tap. The sound of mediocrity is all around him as his coworkers hammer away at their keyboards, eager to finish their work load and impress their bosses. Someone in the break room is having a fight with the hissing coffee machine. *Inane noise. All of it. * Jeff thinks rubbing his temples to try and concentrate. Teeheehee. Chink chink chink. Tap tap tap. The noise easily penetrates the quick and quiet meditation zone, he tried to build around himself. `` No.'' Jeff whispers to himself. `` Not today.'' As he slowly takes a deep breath to try and calm his anger. Deep breath in. *One, two, three, four, five*. Deep breath out. *One, two, three, four, five. * Deep breath in. *one, two, three... *. CHINK CHINK CHINK. His meditation is interrupted again as a collection box is rattled in his face. `` Collecting for Dave's birthday.'' One his sullen faced coworker offers. Jeff reaches into his pocket for his wallet trying to hide his disgust at the overpowering smell of sweat emanating from his coworker. He does n't even like Dave but deposits a ten dollar bill into the tin to get rid of his colleague. Closing his eyes, he starts again. Deep breath in. *One, two, three, four, five. * Deep breath out. *One, two, three, four, five.*. Deep breath in. *One, two... *. TAP TAP TAP. CHINK CHINK CHINK. HISS HISS BANG BANG. TAP TAP TAP. Angrily rushing to his feet, he is ready to shout at everyone to shut up. To tell them that he has had enough, that they can shove this job, shove their gossip around the water cooler and their faux friendships. That he quit. He never gets the chance as he is interrupted again. This time by a sudden crashing sound. Everyone in the room turns towards the source of the noise as a man smashes through the roof and onto the floor with a thunderous thud. Everyone stood, eyes wide, mouths agape as as a golden beam of light shone down through the newly created skylight and basked the man in a warm glow. No-one rushed to help as he groaned and struggled to stand. As he reached his feet everyone could see him properly and he was the most beautiful man any of them had ever seen. His thick golden hair was like a meadow blowing in a gentle breeze, undisturbed by the fall. Eyes like tropical blue seas, high cheek bones and a chiseled jawline gave him a dazzling smile that made both women and men swoon. The clothes he wore were immaculate, conforming tightly to his body, highlight his pecks, biceps and butt. The beautiful man turns slowly on the spot. Taking his time to study each and every face before moving on to the next. Everyone who feels his gaze is unable to stop themselves from blushing as the feel butterflies fly around their stomach. Then his attention turns to Jeff and he feels it as well. His heart feels like it is beating a million miles a second, butterflies soar across his stomach. He feels like a magnet is pulling every part of his being towards this unknown man. Self consciously he wonders if he looks OK. Did he pick the right shirt and tie combination, is he wearing his new shoes and did he put clean underwear on this morning. `` Finally!'' He says with a shocked smiled on his face breaking the silence and shattering Jeff's heart with joy at the same time. `` I've found you.'' The man steps closer, over the rubble caused due to him crashing through the roof. `` You've no idea what I've been through all to look for you.'' He said, patting Jeff on the shoulder in a friendly manner. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket he pulled out a piece of paper causing Jeff to flinch. `` Jeffery Donaldson. You are being served.'' The man beings to read `` Err, I'm Jeffery Donald... not Donaldson. Sorry'' Jeff said sheepishly. </s>

[ WP ] Today is your Final . At Villain University . You are lead into a room with a one-way mirror and a table . A battery-powered milk frother and an envelope waits there . Six hours later , you passed `` summa cum laude '' .

Proctor stepped into the room, coldly staring at Bartuk and sitting down across from him. Picking up the milk frother, he pressed a button on the side, causing a blade to pop out of it. He then proceeded to open the envelope, pulling out a piece of paper labeled `` EXAM FORM 198''. He then looked up and, without making eye contact, passed Bartuk the form along with a number 2 pencil he had brought in with him. Walking off to a sideroom from which the testing room is visible via the one-way mirror he muttered something sounding like `` Good luck''. Six hours later, Bartuk was handed yet another piece of paper which read: - MULTIPLE CHOICE ( WEIGHT: 25 % ): 99.12 % - OPEN RESPONSE ( WEIGHT: 75 % ): 98.6 % -- > RESULT: 98.73 % -- > GRADUATED SUMMA CUM LAUDE

<s>[INST] Today is your Final . At Villain University . You are lead into a room with a one-way mirror and a table . A battery-powered milk frother and an envelope waits there . Six hours later , you passed `` summa cum laude '' . [/INST] Proctor stepped into the room, coldly staring at Bartuk and sitting down across from him. Picking up the milk frother, he pressed a button on the side, causing a blade to pop out of it. He then proceeded to open the envelope, pulling out a piece of paper labeled `` EXAM FORM 198''. He then looked up and, without making eye contact, passed Bartuk the form along with a number 2 pencil he had brought in with him. Walking off to a sideroom from which the testing room is visible via the one-way mirror he muttered something sounding like `` Good luck''. Six hours later, Bartuk was handed yet another piece of paper which read: - MULTIPLE CHOICE ( WEIGHT: 25 % ): 99.12 % - OPEN RESPONSE ( WEIGHT: 75 % ): 98.6 % -- > RESULT: 98.73 % -- > GRADUATED SUMMA CUM LAUDE </s>

[ WP ] The real reason why the villain is doing evil is because he/she has a crush on the hero and this is the only way to see him/her

“ Well, well, well, Mr T, now that you have fallen in my trap, you might be wondering why I let you live, why did I choose you out of everyone else ” “ Because you ’ re in love with me? ” “ What?! No! Bullshit! Why would you say something like that? ” “ Come ’ on Richard, you have had a crush on me since the academy, it was obvious to everyone. And besides that… Richard, is that make-up on your face? ” “ Maaaybe ” “ What do you mean maybe? And what was that wink for? Are you flirting with me?'' “ Maybe I am ” “ Okay let me go now. You caused quite the fuss back in that village. Why did you need to slaughter all those people? ” “ You never paid any attention to me, no matter what I tried, no matter how hard I fought for it ” “ Okay, listen now, and hear what I have to… ” “ NO! You listen to me, handsome. Nothing I have ever done is worthy of your appreciation! The biggest terrorist attack of the decade? You didn ’ t care. Taking down a bloody satellite and taking out a battleship. Not a look in my direction by the untouchable Mr T. Can ’ t you see it? You can ’ t ignore me anymore though, not while being handcuffed to the chair ” “ With fluffy pink handcuffs. What the fuck is that? ” “ It ’ s called love John, you will never be able to get it. And don ’ t tell me again how you have a wife and how much you love her. I don ’ t wan na hear any of it ” “ But I do have a wife and I do lov… ” “ ENOUGH! You are here now and you will pay for all those years of torture that I had to endure ” “ I don ’ t get it, what do you want from... Richard? What is that music? Why are you dancing? No, don ’ t take this off, please.. ”

<s>[INST] The real reason why the villain is doing evil is because he/she has a crush on the hero and this is the only way to see him/her [/INST] “ Well, well, well, Mr T, now that you have fallen in my trap, you might be wondering why I let you live, why did I choose you out of everyone else ” “ Because you ’ re in love with me? ” “ What?! No! Bullshit! Why would you say something like that? ” “ Come ’ on Richard, you have had a crush on me since the academy, it was obvious to everyone. And besides that… Richard, is that make-up on your face? ” “ Maaaybe ” “ What do you mean maybe? And what was that wink for? Are you flirting with me?'' “ Maybe I am ” “ Okay let me go now. You caused quite the fuss back in that village. Why did you need to slaughter all those people? ” “ You never paid any attention to me, no matter what I tried, no matter how hard I fought for it ” “ Okay, listen now, and hear what I have to… ” “ NO! You listen to me, handsome. Nothing I have ever done is worthy of your appreciation! The biggest terrorist attack of the decade? You didn ’ t care. Taking down a bloody satellite and taking out a battleship. Not a look in my direction by the untouchable Mr T. Can ’ t you see it? You can ’ t ignore me anymore though, not while being handcuffed to the chair ” “ With fluffy pink handcuffs. What the fuck is that? ” “ It ’ s called love John, you will never be able to get it. And don ’ t tell me again how you have a wife and how much you love her. I don ’ t wan na hear any of it ” “ But I do have a wife and I do lov… ” “ ENOUGH! You are here now and you will pay for all those years of torture that I had to endure ” “ I don ’ t get it, what do you want from... Richard? What is that music? Why are you dancing? No, don ’ t take this off, please.. ” </s>

[ WP ] Describe a major deity of a mythological fantasy pantheon .

Once, the world belonged to Gejjet ’ s minions. They soared through the rich skies, diaphanous wings beating and beautiful carapaces gleaming as they danced under a young sun. It was a different world - and in time, the world changed. Gejjet ’ s minions diminished, and with them, his power. Then came Uhr-Solvah and the Far Lords, and Gejjet was one of their number. Perhaps he arrived long before the others, or replaced some older, local entity; or he was never one to start with, not until he was recruited. He doesn ’ t say. There is a lot Gejjet doesn ’ t say. But Gejjet never forgot. There was a time he was more than just another of Uhr-Solvah ’ s courtiers, and there would be again. And so he set to work, imposing will through subtlety and subterfuge. He did not raise the great temple, but he made it happen. He did not devise the Miasma, but he turned it into a weapon. He discovered and disposed of many threats to the Far Lords; other still he let unfold, watching with satisfaction and evidence of his peers ’ negligence. And now, here he stands, second only to Uhr-Solvah himself, fueling his inferiors ’ feuds so that they do not pose a threat while he himself plots and awaits an opportunity. As the gods go to war, Gejjet thinks his time may have finally come. Where others see danger, he sees opportunity. There is power and glory to be gained, new lies and secrets to add to his arsenal. All he has to do is be victorious. And then… Once, the world belonged to Gejjet ’ s minions. And when his plans succeed, it will again. -- -- [ I have more of these ] ( http: //vonboomslang.tumblr.com/tagged/far % 20lords )

<s>[INST] Describe a major deity of a mythological fantasy pantheon . [/INST] Once, the world belonged to Gejjet ’ s minions. They soared through the rich skies, diaphanous wings beating and beautiful carapaces gleaming as they danced under a young sun. It was a different world - and in time, the world changed. Gejjet ’ s minions diminished, and with them, his power. Then came Uhr-Solvah and the Far Lords, and Gejjet was one of their number. Perhaps he arrived long before the others, or replaced some older, local entity; or he was never one to start with, not until he was recruited. He doesn ’ t say. There is a lot Gejjet doesn ’ t say. But Gejjet never forgot. There was a time he was more than just another of Uhr-Solvah ’ s courtiers, and there would be again. And so he set to work, imposing will through subtlety and subterfuge. He did not raise the great temple, but he made it happen. He did not devise the Miasma, but he turned it into a weapon. He discovered and disposed of many threats to the Far Lords; other still he let unfold, watching with satisfaction and evidence of his peers ’ negligence. And now, here he stands, second only to Uhr-Solvah himself, fueling his inferiors ’ feuds so that they do not pose a threat while he himself plots and awaits an opportunity. As the gods go to war, Gejjet thinks his time may have finally come. Where others see danger, he sees opportunity. There is power and glory to be gained, new lies and secrets to add to his arsenal. All he has to do is be victorious. And then… Once, the world belonged to Gejjet ’ s minions. And when his plans succeed, it will again. -- -- [ I have more of these ] ( http: //vonboomslang.tumblr.com/tagged/far % 20lords ) </s>

[ wp ] [ nsfw ] Destroy my soul : A challenge to write the bleakest , most hopeless and dark grim fic you can fathom ...

It was, of course, a dark and stormy night. The stars were crying, leaking an awful acid that burned deeper than fire. Not a soul stepped outside. Not even the bravest man dared to brave the storm when the stars and clouds yelled their sorrows. A door opened. A soft glow pierced the dark ravings of the wind. It blew through the house, tugging at curtains as it shrieked and thirsted for a victim to sacrifice to the rain. A dark mass was launched through the cutting rain, landing with a soft splash in the mud. The door slammed shut. There was a whimper. A soft bark. The wind shrieked in glee and the rain shouted its pleasure at the sacrifice. Then the wind stopped. The clouds dried their tears and the sun came out to greet the blooming flowers. People left reveled in the soft grass, the warm sun. And nobody cared about the dark mass lying in the street. No one cared about the furry creature that had died crawling across the street, back to the home of his master. No one heard him cry his last breath or bark his soft love for the man who threw him in the street and crushed his bones in the morning. All they people were smiling, happy at their triumph over the wind and rain. That is, until the rain came back.

<s>[INST] [ wp ] [ nsfw ] Destroy my soul : A challenge to write the bleakest , most hopeless and dark grim fic you can fathom ... [/INST] It was, of course, a dark and stormy night. The stars were crying, leaking an awful acid that burned deeper than fire. Not a soul stepped outside. Not even the bravest man dared to brave the storm when the stars and clouds yelled their sorrows. A door opened. A soft glow pierced the dark ravings of the wind. It blew through the house, tugging at curtains as it shrieked and thirsted for a victim to sacrifice to the rain. A dark mass was launched through the cutting rain, landing with a soft splash in the mud. The door slammed shut. There was a whimper. A soft bark. The wind shrieked in glee and the rain shouted its pleasure at the sacrifice. Then the wind stopped. The clouds dried their tears and the sun came out to greet the blooming flowers. People left reveled in the soft grass, the warm sun. And nobody cared about the dark mass lying in the street. No one cared about the furry creature that had died crawling across the street, back to the home of his master. No one heard him cry his last breath or bark his soft love for the man who threw him in the street and crushed his bones in the morning. All they people were smiling, happy at their triumph over the wind and rain. That is, until the rain came back. </s>

[ WP ] At birth , everyone is given a cup . That 's the only cup they can ever use - for coffee , beer at a bar , water , soda , everything . When the cup breaks , it 's as impactful as a death of a family member . Yours broke today .

In this very undeveloped populated village that is rich with traditions and rituals, at birth everyone is given a clay cup. It's possibility the only thing that is not made out of soft animal skin. If your cup breaks or get lost, it's as if a significant other has passed away. Just today my cup has broke into many unrecoverable pieces. I panicked. How am I going to ever drink in public again? I am pretty much dead to my family. This cup may have been around for hundreds of years. How could I let everyone down? Nobody knows how to make clay, except for the well respected Makers of Cups who of course keeps this a secret. I have no choice, I have to steal someone's cup. I am sorry, so very sorry, but my happiness comes first. I picked up the sharpest piece of clay, hid it on me, then I buried the rest of my shame. I am outside of a funeral that's taken place inside, I know a child has died but I have no relation to him. I do know that when someone gets buried their cherished cup gets taken away to be given to the next generation except when the blood line ends. It is favorable for me that a child who has a living father passed away. At the end of the funeral, everyone but the father leaves to their homes. The father morns the son's early death by being the last person to see the cup before he drops it in with his son. Before that happens I need to steal the cup. After I killed the father and stole the cup, I felt relieved. A weight has been taken off of me. I folded the adult sized body so it can fit in a deep hand made hole in the ground made for a child. I buried the shard that has been with me in life until now deeper into the body, I buried the bodies with dirt then I escaped. I have no regrets. I took good care of my very own hard earned cup, had some very fond memories with it until I died happy with friends and family by my side.

<s>[INST] At birth , everyone is given a cup . That 's the only cup they can ever use - for coffee , beer at a bar , water , soda , everything . When the cup breaks , it 's as impactful as a death of a family member . Yours broke today . [/INST] In this very undeveloped populated village that is rich with traditions and rituals, at birth everyone is given a clay cup. It's possibility the only thing that is not made out of soft animal skin. If your cup breaks or get lost, it's as if a significant other has passed away. Just today my cup has broke into many unrecoverable pieces. I panicked. How am I going to ever drink in public again? I am pretty much dead to my family. This cup may have been around for hundreds of years. How could I let everyone down? Nobody knows how to make clay, except for the well respected Makers of Cups who of course keeps this a secret. I have no choice, I have to steal someone's cup. I am sorry, so very sorry, but my happiness comes first. I picked up the sharpest piece of clay, hid it on me, then I buried the rest of my shame. I am outside of a funeral that's taken place inside, I know a child has died but I have no relation to him. I do know that when someone gets buried their cherished cup gets taken away to be given to the next generation except when the blood line ends. It is favorable for me that a child who has a living father passed away. At the end of the funeral, everyone but the father leaves to their homes. The father morns the son's early death by being the last person to see the cup before he drops it in with his son. Before that happens I need to steal the cup. After I killed the father and stole the cup, I felt relieved. A weight has been taken off of me. I folded the adult sized body so it can fit in a deep hand made hole in the ground made for a child. I buried the shard that has been with me in life until now deeper into the body, I buried the bodies with dirt then I escaped. I have no regrets. I took good care of my very own hard earned cup, had some very fond memories with it until I died happy with friends and family by my side. </s>

[ WP ] Make a coherent story out of one of your dreams , preferably a dream that you were convinced was real while dreaming it

Thought I'd throw my own in here with the rest. I was in a place of death and suffering. I knew it to be true without knowing why I had this knowledge. I knew that beyond the walls of my cell, there lay hundreds of others, slaves taken off the streets, from homes, from schools. I knew that this place was one where the wealthy came to pleasure themselves with the castoff of society, where the basest human instincts and the most refined forms of cruelty could be practiced freely, for the right price. I was taken to be meat, one of the perverse and exotic services offered by this place. My cell was small, made of dark stone with a single barred door set into one wall. Air and the distant noise of flowing water filtered up and circulated through the floor's grating, a feature meant to be used as a sort of toilet. Twice a day, food was pushed through the bars of the door, a strange gruel in a paper bowl. I was afraid of what the gruel was made from, some sort of meat mixed with oats in a light broth. I did n't know how long I'd been there, but the men that guarded the prison complex taunted me every time they passed, whispering words of an impending visit of my `` sponsor'', the man or woman I suspected had purchased me from whoever ran this place. I'd been working the large screws holding the floor's grate in place for days, working each one out with fingers that were raw and bloody from the task. Beneath the grate, about ten feet down, a stream flowed past, carrying human waist with it. I knew that it lead to the outside, to freedom. Finally, I worked it free from the floor. I slipped down into the shaft, trying to work the grate back into position over the top of the hole, attempting to cover my tracks. I dropped, landing in the thick water with a muted splash. It was cleaner than I expected, a murky grey foaming mass that carried me along. In an instant, I was outside, standing in a small brown pond. I climbed out of the pond, moving towards the fencing and the trenches. I followed the perimeter of the first fence line, attempting to find a place to scale or a gate with a breakable lock. I found a terrible sight, a woman, looking old beyond her years, hanging in a twisted mass of torn and battered fencing, as if she'd tried to force her way through and broken through the net of metal only for it to tangle her arms and legs in a mass of razor wire. She was still alive, old blood dried in long thick lines down her ragged skin. She spoke with the voice of an old woman, though she only looked to be middle aged. `` Would yo be a dear and fetch my cigarettes from my pocket there?'' I obeyed her request, fishing a pack of Pall Mall cigarettes out of her pocket along with a small orange lighter. I lit one of the cigarettes and placed it in her mouth. `` Come with me, we can escape.'' I asked, hoping for a companion after the long time spent trapped in the dungeon of the slave brothel. `` No,'' she replied, `` It's too late for me, go on ahead, I've made my peace with this.'' I left her, lighting another cigarette for her before climbing through a hole next to her body. I scaled down into and then up over the side of the trenches, miraculously not piercing my body on any of the sharpened stakes or broken glass that filled them. As I ran, I looked back to see an enormous gothic manor the size of a large strip mall resting in the distance, on a raised plateau. I saw the distant form of the old slave prostitute. I looked away as a pack of dogs tore her apart. I could her the shredding of clothing and meat, the barking of dogs, but not screams of pain. I ran for a day across a strange barren red desert, feet never growing tired. I seemed almost to fly away from the place, freedom coursing through me like a drug. The desert soon became more lively, bushes and small animals appearing as I covered the miles. Eventually I came to a large abandon railroad way station. Train cars lay rusting and decaying in the sands, thrown off the rails by some force. They formed a semicircle, a man standing in the center. The man was rough, with sunburned skin, ragged hair, a patchy beard, and eyes that seemed to see for miles and hide a loneliness that could crush any lesser man. He was armed with a multitude of weapons: knives, guns, grenades, and body armor. He saw me and pulled one hand closer to his chest, holding some small piece of glossy paper. `` You should n't be here.'' He said in a flat tone. `` They'll be coming soon.'' `` Who?'' I asked, stepping closer to him. `` They will kill you if they find you, hide in one of the tank cars.'' He pointed and I followed his instructions, peeking at his hand and seeing a photo of a woman and a young girl. As I climbed in, he shut the door and I heard a grinding noise. `` Stay here and do n't make a noise.'' I followed his instructions and soon I heard gunfire. A line of holes appeared in the side of the tank I hid within, shining light into the darkness and blinding me as I heard inhuman screams outside. Something passed in front of the tank and blocked out the light again, plunging me into darkness. I heard a noise like the end of the world and it was over. I slept soon after that. I woke to the sound of men outside. I stood and cautiously peeked through the bullet holes in my tank, seeing police officers and men in forensic uniforms leaning over a bloody sheet that covered what I could only assume to be the man's body. They talked, but the sound was muted and indistinct, as if it traveled through water instead of air. Soon, a man arrived in a red sports car, wearing a well-tailored suit with red trim and a dark tie. He spoke with one of the officers and I heard his voice clearly. `` I had a runaway. If you see him, you know what to do.'' There was a distorted response and the man turned to go converse with another officer. I knew the man somehow, knew that he was the one who had taken me, the one who ran the slave brothel. I hated him. Instead of fear, I felt exhilaration, like a euphoria urging me to action. I carefully tried the hatch I'd entered through, finding it unlocked and hanging open slightly. I slipped out into the twilight of evening. I made my way quickly to the sports car the man in red had arrived in. The keys were in and the engine idled. I put it into drive and slipped off into the night. I drove through the night, it seemed shorter than is should have been. As noon arrived, a voice came over the radio. `` I like you kid, you have guts. Too bad about that.'' I recognized the voice as the man in the dark red trimmed suit. The car exploded into fire and I flew into the air, my mangled body arching up towards the heavens, so nearly free, so nearly flying, until I came back down and died on the hot pavement of the road. Then I woke up.

<s>[INST] Make a coherent story out of one of your dreams , preferably a dream that you were convinced was real while dreaming it [/INST] Thought I'd throw my own in here with the rest. I was in a place of death and suffering. I knew it to be true without knowing why I had this knowledge. I knew that beyond the walls of my cell, there lay hundreds of others, slaves taken off the streets, from homes, from schools. I knew that this place was one where the wealthy came to pleasure themselves with the castoff of society, where the basest human instincts and the most refined forms of cruelty could be practiced freely, for the right price. I was taken to be meat, one of the perverse and exotic services offered by this place. My cell was small, made of dark stone with a single barred door set into one wall. Air and the distant noise of flowing water filtered up and circulated through the floor's grating, a feature meant to be used as a sort of toilet. Twice a day, food was pushed through the bars of the door, a strange gruel in a paper bowl. I was afraid of what the gruel was made from, some sort of meat mixed with oats in a light broth. I did n't know how long I'd been there, but the men that guarded the prison complex taunted me every time they passed, whispering words of an impending visit of my `` sponsor'', the man or woman I suspected had purchased me from whoever ran this place. I'd been working the large screws holding the floor's grate in place for days, working each one out with fingers that were raw and bloody from the task. Beneath the grate, about ten feet down, a stream flowed past, carrying human waist with it. I knew that it lead to the outside, to freedom. Finally, I worked it free from the floor. I slipped down into the shaft, trying to work the grate back into position over the top of the hole, attempting to cover my tracks. I dropped, landing in the thick water with a muted splash. It was cleaner than I expected, a murky grey foaming mass that carried me along. In an instant, I was outside, standing in a small brown pond. I climbed out of the pond, moving towards the fencing and the trenches. I followed the perimeter of the first fence line, attempting to find a place to scale or a gate with a breakable lock. I found a terrible sight, a woman, looking old beyond her years, hanging in a twisted mass of torn and battered fencing, as if she'd tried to force her way through and broken through the net of metal only for it to tangle her arms and legs in a mass of razor wire. She was still alive, old blood dried in long thick lines down her ragged skin. She spoke with the voice of an old woman, though she only looked to be middle aged. `` Would yo be a dear and fetch my cigarettes from my pocket there?'' I obeyed her request, fishing a pack of Pall Mall cigarettes out of her pocket along with a small orange lighter. I lit one of the cigarettes and placed it in her mouth. `` Come with me, we can escape.'' I asked, hoping for a companion after the long time spent trapped in the dungeon of the slave brothel. `` No,'' she replied, `` It's too late for me, go on ahead, I've made my peace with this.'' I left her, lighting another cigarette for her before climbing through a hole next to her body. I scaled down into and then up over the side of the trenches, miraculously not piercing my body on any of the sharpened stakes or broken glass that filled them. As I ran, I looked back to see an enormous gothic manor the size of a large strip mall resting in the distance, on a raised plateau. I saw the distant form of the old slave prostitute. I looked away as a pack of dogs tore her apart. I could her the shredding of clothing and meat, the barking of dogs, but not screams of pain. I ran for a day across a strange barren red desert, feet never growing tired. I seemed almost to fly away from the place, freedom coursing through me like a drug. The desert soon became more lively, bushes and small animals appearing as I covered the miles. Eventually I came to a large abandon railroad way station. Train cars lay rusting and decaying in the sands, thrown off the rails by some force. They formed a semicircle, a man standing in the center. The man was rough, with sunburned skin, ragged hair, a patchy beard, and eyes that seemed to see for miles and hide a loneliness that could crush any lesser man. He was armed with a multitude of weapons: knives, guns, grenades, and body armor. He saw me and pulled one hand closer to his chest, holding some small piece of glossy paper. `` You should n't be here.'' He said in a flat tone. `` They'll be coming soon.'' `` Who?'' I asked, stepping closer to him. `` They will kill you if they find you, hide in one of the tank cars.'' He pointed and I followed his instructions, peeking at his hand and seeing a photo of a woman and a young girl. As I climbed in, he shut the door and I heard a grinding noise. `` Stay here and do n't make a noise.'' I followed his instructions and soon I heard gunfire. A line of holes appeared in the side of the tank I hid within, shining light into the darkness and blinding me as I heard inhuman screams outside. Something passed in front of the tank and blocked out the light again, plunging me into darkness. I heard a noise like the end of the world and it was over. I slept soon after that. I woke to the sound of men outside. I stood and cautiously peeked through the bullet holes in my tank, seeing police officers and men in forensic uniforms leaning over a bloody sheet that covered what I could only assume to be the man's body. They talked, but the sound was muted and indistinct, as if it traveled through water instead of air. Soon, a man arrived in a red sports car, wearing a well-tailored suit with red trim and a dark tie. He spoke with one of the officers and I heard his voice clearly. `` I had a runaway. If you see him, you know what to do.'' There was a distorted response and the man turned to go converse with another officer. I knew the man somehow, knew that he was the one who had taken me, the one who ran the slave brothel. I hated him. Instead of fear, I felt exhilaration, like a euphoria urging me to action. I carefully tried the hatch I'd entered through, finding it unlocked and hanging open slightly. I slipped out into the twilight of evening. I made my way quickly to the sports car the man in red had arrived in. The keys were in and the engine idled. I put it into drive and slipped off into the night. I drove through the night, it seemed shorter than is should have been. As noon arrived, a voice came over the radio. `` I like you kid, you have guts. Too bad about that.'' I recognized the voice as the man in the dark red trimmed suit. The car exploded into fire and I flew into the air, my mangled body arching up towards the heavens, so nearly free, so nearly flying, until I came back down and died on the hot pavement of the road. Then I woke up. </s>

[ WP ] You are the President of the United States , and NASA has just informed you that the leader of an alien civilization wishes to speak with you via video . When you establish a connection , Abraham Lincoln is on the other end .

I have had reddit prompts recommended to me so this is my first prompt response ever. Thanks. There he was in all his former glory, right down to the sepia shading on every screen in the room. Untrimmed eyebrows, deeply lined face, scruffy salt and pepper beard framing his jaw, big ears and that incredible hat adding an excess of height to his tall thin frame. He stared intensely at me and I shuffled my feel like a school child facing the principal. I tugged my suit sleeve straight and stiffened my spine. The image remained and when the eyebrows lifted in a question my own brow furrowed. I was not expecting Abraham Lincoln as the first face of our first official contact with an Alien species. “ What is going on here? ” I turned to address the nearest NASA tech. His hands shook a little over the keyboard and I smiled to reassure him. A pat on the shoulder often helps but I refrained from making contact. “ Sir, this is the signal we are receiving. The channel is open for you to speak. Sir. ” I stared back at the image of that earlier president and studied it closely until my aide quietly cleared her throat and others around me signaled for me to begin. “ On behalf of the United States of America and all the peoples of the world, I would like to take this opportunity to welcome you to this communication. It is an auspicious day for both of our, er, people ’ s to be able to make contact and further our understanding of each othe… ” Abe looked away from his screen and frowned. Garbled sound filtered through the bank of speakers. “ …ancient tech…image inconsistent with…myth…what?... got it… ” Abe turned back to the screen and his lip lifted into a slight smile on the left side of his face. His eyes seemed to twinkle and I felt unexpectedly calm. I noticed other postures relaxing around the room and smiles lifting in response. Is it good or bad that we are all buying into the Lincoln mythology here? “ Mr President, we are experiencing difficulties synchronising our technology with yours. We have not encountered such ancient- what? ” again Abe turned away from his screen and the sounds broke into small chunks that made little sense. “ inconsist…colour…keep the hat…they use what?... ” Abe returned his smiling face to the screen. The sepia melted under an onslaught of intense colours that muted, after our flinches and blinking, into a calmer full colour version of Abe as he must have looked in real life, blemishes and all. “ We have updated our data. Shall we begin again? ” “ er yes, Welcome to our first official communications. The people of Earth bid you a welcome and… ” The stern face of Abraham Lincoln is etched into the psych of every school child in the land, completely recognisable from the green of every monetary exchange, staring out from giant statues and portraits in every official building but none of it can compare to the reality of a living breathing angry Abraham with a thunderous expression on his face as he turned again to his companions off screen. “ This is the face they trust…what do you mean we are a century and a half out of sync…well who did the research…no I won ’ t give up the hat…no, let me keep the hat… ” Abe snatched at his hat as something unseen attempted to lift it off his head. More than one mouth gaped open in the room around me, including mine. I popped my mouth closed as he straightened up in the screen. He tipped the brim of his hat and chuckled. “ Well young fellow, we are certainly off to fine beginnings. Where were we? Oh yes that ’ s right. We are a flagstaff ship on a voyage of discovery of low technology planets and yours is especially intriguing. Our scientists wish to study you and we assure you we will be unobtrusive and discrete. We come in peace. We mean you no harm. We wish to offer gifts and an exchange of technology and to learn about your primitive cultures. Have I left anything out? Oh yes, it says here you like blankets and clay artefacts for personal decoration? ” Abe kept smiling and looking around the room. None of us moved or spoke.

<s>[INST] You are the President of the United States , and NASA has just informed you that the leader of an alien civilization wishes to speak with you via video . When you establish a connection , Abraham Lincoln is on the other end . [/INST] I have had reddit prompts recommended to me so this is my first prompt response ever. Thanks. There he was in all his former glory, right down to the sepia shading on every screen in the room. Untrimmed eyebrows, deeply lined face, scruffy salt and pepper beard framing his jaw, big ears and that incredible hat adding an excess of height to his tall thin frame. He stared intensely at me and I shuffled my feel like a school child facing the principal. I tugged my suit sleeve straight and stiffened my spine. The image remained and when the eyebrows lifted in a question my own brow furrowed. I was not expecting Abraham Lincoln as the first face of our first official contact with an Alien species. “ What is going on here? ” I turned to address the nearest NASA tech. His hands shook a little over the keyboard and I smiled to reassure him. A pat on the shoulder often helps but I refrained from making contact. “ Sir, this is the signal we are receiving. The channel is open for you to speak. Sir. ” I stared back at the image of that earlier president and studied it closely until my aide quietly cleared her throat and others around me signaled for me to begin. “ On behalf of the United States of America and all the peoples of the world, I would like to take this opportunity to welcome you to this communication. It is an auspicious day for both of our, er, people ’ s to be able to make contact and further our understanding of each othe… ” Abe looked away from his screen and frowned. Garbled sound filtered through the bank of speakers. “ …ancient tech…image inconsistent with…myth…what?... got it… ” Abe turned back to the screen and his lip lifted into a slight smile on the left side of his face. His eyes seemed to twinkle and I felt unexpectedly calm. I noticed other postures relaxing around the room and smiles lifting in response. Is it good or bad that we are all buying into the Lincoln mythology here? “ Mr President, we are experiencing difficulties synchronising our technology with yours. We have not encountered such ancient- what? ” again Abe turned away from his screen and the sounds broke into small chunks that made little sense. “ inconsist…colour…keep the hat…they use what?... ” Abe returned his smiling face to the screen. The sepia melted under an onslaught of intense colours that muted, after our flinches and blinking, into a calmer full colour version of Abe as he must have looked in real life, blemishes and all. “ We have updated our data. Shall we begin again? ” “ er yes, Welcome to our first official communications. The people of Earth bid you a welcome and… ” The stern face of Abraham Lincoln is etched into the psych of every school child in the land, completely recognisable from the green of every monetary exchange, staring out from giant statues and portraits in every official building but none of it can compare to the reality of a living breathing angry Abraham with a thunderous expression on his face as he turned again to his companions off screen. “ This is the face they trust…what do you mean we are a century and a half out of sync…well who did the research…no I won ’ t give up the hat…no, let me keep the hat… ” Abe snatched at his hat as something unseen attempted to lift it off his head. More than one mouth gaped open in the room around me, including mine. I popped my mouth closed as he straightened up in the screen. He tipped the brim of his hat and chuckled. “ Well young fellow, we are certainly off to fine beginnings. Where were we? Oh yes that ’ s right. We are a flagstaff ship on a voyage of discovery of low technology planets and yours is especially intriguing. Our scientists wish to study you and we assure you we will be unobtrusive and discrete. We come in peace. We mean you no harm. We wish to offer gifts and an exchange of technology and to learn about your primitive cultures. Have I left anything out? Oh yes, it says here you like blankets and clay artefacts for personal decoration? ” Abe kept smiling and looking around the room. None of us moved or spoke. </s>

[ WP ] During an otherwise standard service call , an exterminator encounters a hive of human sized cockroaches . An epic battle pursues .

[ Apologies for not following the prompt exactly- I was more than halfway through writing it when I realized I'd missed the section regarding `` standard service.'' I hope people still enjoy this! ] I've trained for this day all my life. Not consciously, and not for every waking hour of my life, but, on some level, I've been waiting for this. It was three in the afternoon, and I was sitting in the break-room when the call came. Paul lazily opened the door to the break-room with this big shit-eating grin on his face. `` Hey, you guys, some crazy fuck says he's got a cockroach problem.'' I laugh, and the others do too. `` Paul, you ass, you ca n't just go calling people crazy.'' `` No, for real! This guy keeps saying he's got, like, man-sized cockroaches or some shit.'' I laughed with the rest of the guys, but deep down I felt my calling reach out to me. The owner of the house had boarded up the entrance to his basement. Hell, he was n't even there; he'd just left a blank check, keys and a note, all taped to the front door. The note said to call him back when the job was done- and so I scoped out the degree of the infestation. I made my way through the house ( a rather nice, mid-sized home furnished mostly with beige furniture ) and pried off the multitude of boards blocking the door to the basement. Almost instantly, a mass of insectoid limbs burst out of the holes the boards were covering. I leapt backwards, and grabbed a nearby sofa, and flipped it over to cover the hole. I sprinted back to my van, and drove back to Warren's Pest Control. Paul, who was sitting at the front desk, shot me a look, but I ignored him. I had purpose now. Real purpose. The kind that drives a man. Storming into the locker room, I locked the door behind me, and stepped into my locker. I removed the back panel of the locker's top shelf, and placed my hand on the now-revealed scanner. With a click and a whirr, the inside of the locker began to descend; the hidden elevators my parents and grandparents had installed came to life. The basement of Warren's Pest Control had n't been touched since I was eight, but when I flipped the switch on the wall the room came to life. Striplights illuminated a semicircular room; racks of weapons and armor, blessed by Holy Crusaders of the Order of Extermination of ages past. I might be the only true Exterminator for miles around my hometown, but my grandparents had moved to Mariposa after the Unsung War of 1949, and they brought more than a few relics with them. This is how I find myself back in front of the boarded door, the sofa and remaining boards shaking and torn. But I do not fear. I am garbed in the Hazmat Of Vengeance, blessed by Lord Takatora Sengoku, veteran of the Unsung War, with over eight hundred confirmed exterminations; copies of his treatise, *Malleus Hexapoda*, are duct-taped to the shoulders, and a breastplate, gauntlets and boots made from welded cans of Asahi ( what Lord Sengoku referred to as `` the shit'' ) are strapped to the suit. Slung over my shoulder is my grandfather's custom belt-fed bait gun, and a backpack-mounted pesticide sprayer with a blessed spiked hammer attachment is strapped to my back. Ten gas grenades and ten white phosphorus grenades clink on my belt, and my mother's holy necklace, ever-burning flares tied together with surgical tubing filled with the crushed bones of pests of all sort, blessed by Saint Burt Landers, founder of the Order of Extermination, hangs from my neck. I take a deep breath. I throw the couch aside and kick the door to the basement down, and throw two gas grenades at my feet. The mass of cockroaches begin to swarm me, but are repelled by the gas; I unsling my grandfather's gun and begin to unload into the swarm. I do not think of a battle cry, for the battle chants from the *Compendium Insecta* drilled into my head from youth surface in the glory of battle. ***I AM THE HATE THAT THIRSTS. *** I empty half my supply of gel-bait into the crowd; the swarm begins to fall back through the small doorway, as the corpses create a perfect choke-point. ***I AM THE LIGHT THAT BURNS. *** More gas grenades as I begin to advance into the basement. There is no light save that for my necklace, but I do not need more than that. I run out of gel bait, and sling the gun back over my shoulder. Out comes the pesticide sprayer. ***I AM THE GAS THAT DROWNS. *** The air is filled with the screeches and clicks of the insect swarm, but it does not make me afraid. Actually, for the first time in my life, I am happy. I am alive. Looking around me, I find myself fully in the basement now, no longer on the stairs; the basement is all black and inhuman, dripping with cockroach and eggs and fluid of unknown origin. Any lesser human, any other exterminator would be afraid. But I am blessed. I feel at one with my hate. ***I AM THE HAMMER THAT CRUSHES. *** Pesticide is out; gas grenades are out. I grab my hammer and charge straight into the crowd of insects, wildly smashing and slamming the cockroaches aside. The Runes of Pest Control, carved into the hammer by a Russian blacksmith, glow with the blood of the insects. The foul creatures swipe at me, and in places tear the suit, but the majority of the blows are deflected by the layers of armour I wear over my Hazmat. It seems like only seconds, but soon enough the swarm has thinned, and I face the brood-mother which has spawned these abominations. It clicks and hisses at me, but all I see is its fear. Gear check. Just my hammer and the belt of WP grenades. It is enough. I charge forward, hammer in one hand and fiery canisters in the other. ***I AM EXTERMINATION! YOUR JUDGEMENT HAS COME! *** The queen swipes at me, and it tears right through the armour plating and tears a rip in the Hazmat. I smash that limb into the ground, then its legs, then its neck. I ram the belt of grenades down its throat, leap backwards, and watch its corpse hiss and burn, horrible fire illuminating the basement. I emerge from the basement and head straight to the backyard. I shed my wargear and feel the light on my shoulders. Today, I am alive.

<s>[INST] During an otherwise standard service call , an exterminator encounters a hive of human sized cockroaches . An epic battle pursues . [/INST] [ Apologies for not following the prompt exactly- I was more than halfway through writing it when I realized I'd missed the section regarding `` standard service.'' I hope people still enjoy this! ] I've trained for this day all my life. Not consciously, and not for every waking hour of my life, but, on some level, I've been waiting for this. It was three in the afternoon, and I was sitting in the break-room when the call came. Paul lazily opened the door to the break-room with this big shit-eating grin on his face. `` Hey, you guys, some crazy fuck says he's got a cockroach problem.'' I laugh, and the others do too. `` Paul, you ass, you ca n't just go calling people crazy.'' `` No, for real! This guy keeps saying he's got, like, man-sized cockroaches or some shit.'' I laughed with the rest of the guys, but deep down I felt my calling reach out to me. The owner of the house had boarded up the entrance to his basement. Hell, he was n't even there; he'd just left a blank check, keys and a note, all taped to the front door. The note said to call him back when the job was done- and so I scoped out the degree of the infestation. I made my way through the house ( a rather nice, mid-sized home furnished mostly with beige furniture ) and pried off the multitude of boards blocking the door to the basement. Almost instantly, a mass of insectoid limbs burst out of the holes the boards were covering. I leapt backwards, and grabbed a nearby sofa, and flipped it over to cover the hole. I sprinted back to my van, and drove back to Warren's Pest Control. Paul, who was sitting at the front desk, shot me a look, but I ignored him. I had purpose now. Real purpose. The kind that drives a man. Storming into the locker room, I locked the door behind me, and stepped into my locker. I removed the back panel of the locker's top shelf, and placed my hand on the now-revealed scanner. With a click and a whirr, the inside of the locker began to descend; the hidden elevators my parents and grandparents had installed came to life. The basement of Warren's Pest Control had n't been touched since I was eight, but when I flipped the switch on the wall the room came to life. Striplights illuminated a semicircular room; racks of weapons and armor, blessed by Holy Crusaders of the Order of Extermination of ages past. I might be the only true Exterminator for miles around my hometown, but my grandparents had moved to Mariposa after the Unsung War of 1949, and they brought more than a few relics with them. This is how I find myself back in front of the boarded door, the sofa and remaining boards shaking and torn. But I do not fear. I am garbed in the Hazmat Of Vengeance, blessed by Lord Takatora Sengoku, veteran of the Unsung War, with over eight hundred confirmed exterminations; copies of his treatise, *Malleus Hexapoda*, are duct-taped to the shoulders, and a breastplate, gauntlets and boots made from welded cans of Asahi ( what Lord Sengoku referred to as `` the shit'' ) are strapped to the suit. Slung over my shoulder is my grandfather's custom belt-fed bait gun, and a backpack-mounted pesticide sprayer with a blessed spiked hammer attachment is strapped to my back. Ten gas grenades and ten white phosphorus grenades clink on my belt, and my mother's holy necklace, ever-burning flares tied together with surgical tubing filled with the crushed bones of pests of all sort, blessed by Saint Burt Landers, founder of the Order of Extermination, hangs from my neck. I take a deep breath. I throw the couch aside and kick the door to the basement down, and throw two gas grenades at my feet. The mass of cockroaches begin to swarm me, but are repelled by the gas; I unsling my grandfather's gun and begin to unload into the swarm. I do not think of a battle cry, for the battle chants from the *Compendium Insecta* drilled into my head from youth surface in the glory of battle. ***I AM THE HATE THAT THIRSTS. *** I empty half my supply of gel-bait into the crowd; the swarm begins to fall back through the small doorway, as the corpses create a perfect choke-point. ***I AM THE LIGHT THAT BURNS. *** More gas grenades as I begin to advance into the basement. There is no light save that for my necklace, but I do not need more than that. I run out of gel bait, and sling the gun back over my shoulder. Out comes the pesticide sprayer. ***I AM THE GAS THAT DROWNS. *** The air is filled with the screeches and clicks of the insect swarm, but it does not make me afraid. Actually, for the first time in my life, I am happy. I am alive. Looking around me, I find myself fully in the basement now, no longer on the stairs; the basement is all black and inhuman, dripping with cockroach and eggs and fluid of unknown origin. Any lesser human, any other exterminator would be afraid. But I am blessed. I feel at one with my hate. ***I AM THE HAMMER THAT CRUSHES. *** Pesticide is out; gas grenades are out. I grab my hammer and charge straight into the crowd of insects, wildly smashing and slamming the cockroaches aside. The Runes of Pest Control, carved into the hammer by a Russian blacksmith, glow with the blood of the insects. The foul creatures swipe at me, and in places tear the suit, but the majority of the blows are deflected by the layers of armour I wear over my Hazmat. It seems like only seconds, but soon enough the swarm has thinned, and I face the brood-mother which has spawned these abominations. It clicks and hisses at me, but all I see is its fear. Gear check. Just my hammer and the belt of WP grenades. It is enough. I charge forward, hammer in one hand and fiery canisters in the other. ***I AM EXTERMINATION! YOUR JUDGEMENT HAS COME! *** The queen swipes at me, and it tears right through the armour plating and tears a rip in the Hazmat. I smash that limb into the ground, then its legs, then its neck. I ram the belt of grenades down its throat, leap backwards, and watch its corpse hiss and burn, horrible fire illuminating the basement. I emerge from the basement and head straight to the backyard. I shed my wargear and feel the light on my shoulders. Today, I am alive. </s>

[ IP ] [ WP ] Player One has died , and Player Two must continue on .

His body was limp. I mean, what could I do? I struggled to pull my gaze away, but all I could do was slowly glance at the blinking skull and cross bones illuminating the heavily wooded jungle every few seconds. It's hollow eyes followed me as I sickly swayed side to side. It felt like forever before I could turn around. Above me, the bastard responsible for my present situation stood atop a platform. I was just out of his vision, so he continued to fire at the corpse of my friend. Similarly, there was n't much I could do from here. The angle was off, so I would have to double back to get my revenge, or press on, leaving the murderer taunting me to live another day. I was torn, but decided that I needed to press on. He'd want that. And I'd get my chance later, I was sure of it. I ran forward and my surroundings changed. But I saw it! The end of the level, just waiting for me. I sprinted to the edge of a steep cliff and jumped. My excitement got the best of me, however, as I twisted my body to perform another upward aerial thrust. It was too much, too soon, however. I soared high up into the air, with my destination before me. The upward force was too much, and I could n't get the forward momentum I needed. In retrospective, I would have reached for the ledge and pull myself up. What ultimately happened was far less heroic. I started my decent and went body first into the awaiting platform. My arms froze, unable to release my gun, and I started to fall straight down. Quickly, the world around me began to go dark, and as the music in my head started to end, two words started to take over my vision: GAME OVER.

<s>[INST] [ IP ] Player One has died , and Player Two must continue on . [/INST] His body was limp. I mean, what could I do? I struggled to pull my gaze away, but all I could do was slowly glance at the blinking skull and cross bones illuminating the heavily wooded jungle every few seconds. It's hollow eyes followed me as I sickly swayed side to side. It felt like forever before I could turn around. Above me, the bastard responsible for my present situation stood atop a platform. I was just out of his vision, so he continued to fire at the corpse of my friend. Similarly, there was n't much I could do from here. The angle was off, so I would have to double back to get my revenge, or press on, leaving the murderer taunting me to live another day. I was torn, but decided that I needed to press on. He'd want that. And I'd get my chance later, I was sure of it. I ran forward and my surroundings changed. But I saw it! The end of the level, just waiting for me. I sprinted to the edge of a steep cliff and jumped. My excitement got the best of me, however, as I twisted my body to perform another upward aerial thrust. It was too much, too soon, however. I soared high up into the air, with my destination before me. The upward force was too much, and I could n't get the forward momentum I needed. In retrospective, I would have reached for the ledge and pull myself up. What ultimately happened was far less heroic. I started my decent and went body first into the awaiting platform. My arms froze, unable to release my gun, and I started to fall straight down. Quickly, the world around me began to go dark, and as the music in my head started to end, two words started to take over my vision: GAME OVER. </s>

[ WP ] Marriage vows are now a legal contract . The line `` until death do you part '' now has to be taken literally . As a result , divorcing couples must now fight to the death .

It was different for my parents. Honest to god, deep down inside I believe they loved each other until the end, but life moved way too fast for their young hearts to keep up with the needs of each other. I like to think, looking through pictures and posts between them on their old social media profiles, that even when they were at each other's throats they loved each other just as much as when they were teenagers. With a baby in the picture ( me, ) they just lost sight of what was most important. Im a rare breed, not in the fact that my parents got a divorce, but in the fact that they were a perfect match in the ring, and neither of them came out alive. But things were different for them. Ellie and I had a unique love from the first day of our relationship. Normally when two young people fall in love and get married they either know with every fiber of their being that they are sure of it, or they want divorce from the start just for the thrill of taking another life. Ellie made that different for us. Ellanor was in a car accident two years before I first laid eyes on her, and although she lost the use of her legs, she swears it was the best thing that ever jappened to her. Things were different for my parents because they new that both of them could n't leave their marriage alive. With Ellie that just was n't the case. When the government passed the law that forced couples to fight to the death for divorce, they knew standards had to be set for handicapped individuals. If anyone is given a handicap class 3 or higher then they do n't have to participate in the divorce combat arena, so long as their handicap existed before papers were filed and approved. Maybe knowing this made us too hasty in our decision, maybe we were doomed from the start. I do n't know and I honestly dont care anymore. I've moved past the guilt of my decision, and I think it'd be for the better for both Ellie and myself. At the end of the day love just was n't enough for me. I love her more than anything but there's an emptiness, that can only be filled by a child, and unfortunately Ellie also lost that ability in the car accident also. When we decided to seek out a surrogate I had no idea I would fall in love with Katherine. The hardest part of this whole situation is that even now, as im about to walk into our house with the divorce papers Ellanor still has no idea. The only positive side of this whole mess is she gets to keep living, albeit with a broken heart. I've been telling myself that this whole time. `` Hey Talkie, how was your day?'' ( she called me Talkie and I Called her Walkie, it was a weird little inside joke we made out of pet names, ) said Ellie as I walked through the front door, grasping the manilla folder tightly in my left hand. `` Uh, well I need to talk to you Ellie,'' I said opening the folder. I thought getting straight to the point would be best. `` Whats in the dingy old folder?'' She asked, guiding her computerized wheel chair towards me. I walked right past her and put the folder on the table. She quickly turned her chair around and moved towards the table as I opened it to the section she would need to sign. `` I've been lying to you Ellie, none of your eggs took. Katherine and I were going to keep it a secret, but shes pregnant, and I love her. You know it has nothing to do with your disability. I made a bad decision because I just wanted a child, and I thought that I could do it without emotion. I thought that Katherine would have the baby and you would be its mother and you'd never know the difference, but I ca n't do it, and neither can Katherine. She wanted to keep the baby from the start and I cant blame her.'' It all came out so fast and cold. Id said it a thousand times in my head but it never sounded so cold. `` Do you truly love her?'' asked ellie without a tear. I hesitate briefly, and unexpectedly. `` Yes.'' `` Where do I sign?'' asked Ellie with a sigh. I turn to grab a pen, and ca n't believe my eyes as I turn to give it to her. `` Ill see you in the arena you bastard.'' said ellie, as she stood up from her chair to grab the pen from my hand.

<s>[INST] Marriage vows are now a legal contract . The line `` until death do you part '' now has to be taken literally . As a result , divorcing couples must now fight to the death . [/INST] It was different for my parents. Honest to god, deep down inside I believe they loved each other until the end, but life moved way too fast for their young hearts to keep up with the needs of each other. I like to think, looking through pictures and posts between them on their old social media profiles, that even when they were at each other's throats they loved each other just as much as when they were teenagers. With a baby in the picture ( me, ) they just lost sight of what was most important. Im a rare breed, not in the fact that my parents got a divorce, but in the fact that they were a perfect match in the ring, and neither of them came out alive. But things were different for them. Ellie and I had a unique love from the first day of our relationship. Normally when two young people fall in love and get married they either know with every fiber of their being that they are sure of it, or they want divorce from the start just for the thrill of taking another life. Ellie made that different for us. Ellanor was in a car accident two years before I first laid eyes on her, and although she lost the use of her legs, she swears it was the best thing that ever jappened to her. Things were different for my parents because they new that both of them could n't leave their marriage alive. With Ellie that just was n't the case. When the government passed the law that forced couples to fight to the death for divorce, they knew standards had to be set for handicapped individuals. If anyone is given a handicap class 3 or higher then they do n't have to participate in the divorce combat arena, so long as their handicap existed before papers were filed and approved. Maybe knowing this made us too hasty in our decision, maybe we were doomed from the start. I do n't know and I honestly dont care anymore. I've moved past the guilt of my decision, and I think it'd be for the better for both Ellie and myself. At the end of the day love just was n't enough for me. I love her more than anything but there's an emptiness, that can only be filled by a child, and unfortunately Ellie also lost that ability in the car accident also. When we decided to seek out a surrogate I had no idea I would fall in love with Katherine. The hardest part of this whole situation is that even now, as im about to walk into our house with the divorce papers Ellanor still has no idea. The only positive side of this whole mess is she gets to keep living, albeit with a broken heart. I've been telling myself that this whole time. `` Hey Talkie, how was your day?'' ( she called me Talkie and I Called her Walkie, it was a weird little inside joke we made out of pet names, ) said Ellie as I walked through the front door, grasping the manilla folder tightly in my left hand. `` Uh, well I need to talk to you Ellie,'' I said opening the folder. I thought getting straight to the point would be best. `` Whats in the dingy old folder?'' She asked, guiding her computerized wheel chair towards me. I walked right past her and put the folder on the table. She quickly turned her chair around and moved towards the table as I opened it to the section she would need to sign. `` I've been lying to you Ellie, none of your eggs took. Katherine and I were going to keep it a secret, but shes pregnant, and I love her. You know it has nothing to do with your disability. I made a bad decision because I just wanted a child, and I thought that I could do it without emotion. I thought that Katherine would have the baby and you would be its mother and you'd never know the difference, but I ca n't do it, and neither can Katherine. She wanted to keep the baby from the start and I cant blame her.'' It all came out so fast and cold. Id said it a thousand times in my head but it never sounded so cold. `` Do you truly love her?'' asked ellie without a tear. I hesitate briefly, and unexpectedly. `` Yes.'' `` Where do I sign?'' asked Ellie with a sigh. I turn to grab a pen, and ca n't believe my eyes as I turn to give it to her. `` Ill see you in the arena you bastard.'' said ellie, as she stood up from her chair to grab the pen from my hand. </s>

[ WP ] You wake up , trapped in a building with dead bodies lying everywhere . You try to escape , only to meet the killer ... wearing your face .

“ Hello Michel, how do you do? ” the killer said with a maniacal laugh. He had a bowie knife in his right hand. He had been waiting for Michel to find him. “ Its a pleasure to see your face... ” he paused. “ Oh, I mean, to wear your face. ” And he laughed again. He had a strong lisp and a laugh that highlighted his deranged state of mind. Michel had felt an intense burning feeling on his face upon waking amongst the bodies that littered the building. The pain was so intense that he thought his face might be on fire. He had rushed out of the room he was in and tried to get out of the building, only to run into the killer. And he quickly realized upon seeing the other wearing his face, and hearing his words, that he had lost his own. “ I went to school for years Michel. So many years. Just for this. For this moment. ” Michel stood motionless, still afraid to reach his hand up to feel what had happened to his face. “ Well Michel, nothing to say? You don ’ t know who I am? Anyways, touch it. Feel what I did to you, Michel. ” “ What the hell is this? ” Michel yelled. Each movement of his face brought on excruciating jolts of pain that crippled him instantly into a kneel, his hands now covering his face. However, he didn ’ t feel a bare face of bloodied flesh and muscle. He felt skin. “ What have you done to me? ” Michel screamed into his hands. He broke out weeping, completely forgetting the dead bodies that lay behind him. “ What is this on my face? ” he cried. “ What have you done to me? ” he said again, half growling, half crying. “ I want you to guess whose face you ’ re wearing Michel. ” The killer was brought down himself onto his back, laughing uncontrollably. He slowly rose back up and stared at Michel. “ GUESS WHOSE FACE YOU ’ RE WEARING DAMMIT! ” he snapped, getting up off of the floor, wiping away his tears. Michel ’ s face was seamlessly grafted onto the killer ’ s head. He could see scars in several areas, but the job was clearly done professionally. And unfortunately, Michel hadn ’ t had a clue why this was happening to him. Michel stood back up slowly, still sobbing. He looked behind him at several dead bodies that were in the room with them. He reached into his pocket for his phone and his hand came out empty. He looked back at the bodies and ran over to one, hoping to find theirs. “ You won ’ t get any help on this, Michel. Nobody has a phone, no mirrors either, ” said the killer. “ And I won ’ t let you escape ’ til I ’ m done. ” “ How the hell am I supposed to know who ’ s face I have, I don ’ t even know who you are or what ’ s going on! Look at all of the people you killed, you bastard. ” “ Whoa, name calling, won ’ t help you this time, Michel. Not this time. Not now. Not now that I have you. ” Michel ’ s mind was racing trying to come up with something. *Not this time* he ran through his head again. Was there a last time? Had he called the killer names before? He stared at the killer, mortified at the sight of his own face, but he needed to find something out about who this guy was. He was about 5 ’ 6 ’ ’ and was stocky. His hair was covered by a hood. The lisp! He immediately reflected back on middle school. There was a short, chubby boy with a lisp. He was picked on by a few kids but Michel was by far the worst. He called him Stumpy, but with a lisp so it sounded like Thtumpy, and also Stumpty Dumpty. There were many others, some worse, some directed at other traits, such as personality, or his interest in drama and plays. *Masks* Michel remembered again. In high school Stumpy had resorted to wearing masks to school to hide his face, which was also the target of nicknames, but it was more to hide his tears and emotion as kids picked on him. But what had he gone on to do after high school. Michel wasn ’ t sure. “ Why ya so quiet, Michel? ” asked Stumpy. “ Can ’ t remember my face? ” And he broke into laughter once again, laying on his back again as tears welled up under his eyes. “ Stumpy, ” Michel said. “ Stumpy! ” he yelled. Stumpy ’ s laughter stopped. He went dead quite. “ Stumpy, ” he muttered under his breath. “ Don ’ t you dare call me that again, Michel. Don ’ t play with fire. You don ’ t know how long I ’ ve been waiting for this. I earned the power I have over you right now. I earned it all. I fought for it all my life. So you address me as Dr. Alacarta now. That ’ s right, I ’ m a doctor. A real good one too. Recently just performed some groundbreaking new plastic surgeries for burn victims. Their faces get destroyed, but I can recreate the face perfectly. ” Stumpy stood silently for a moment. “ You wan na know my favorite part, Michel? This one was so easy. It wasn ’ t easy to figure out how to graft off my own face. It wasn ’ t easy to graft your face to mine, but it was damned easy to pull off your face, and it was damned easy to graft my face to yours. ” “ Your face? ” Michel whispered, almost just mouthing the words. “ My face. ” Might be continued...

<s>[INST] You wake up , trapped in a building with dead bodies lying everywhere . You try to escape , only to meet the killer ... wearing your face . [/INST] “ Hello Michel, how do you do? ” the killer said with a maniacal laugh. He had a bowie knife in his right hand. He had been waiting for Michel to find him. “ Its a pleasure to see your face... ” he paused. “ Oh, I mean, to wear your face. ” And he laughed again. He had a strong lisp and a laugh that highlighted his deranged state of mind. Michel had felt an intense burning feeling on his face upon waking amongst the bodies that littered the building. The pain was so intense that he thought his face might be on fire. He had rushed out of the room he was in and tried to get out of the building, only to run into the killer. And he quickly realized upon seeing the other wearing his face, and hearing his words, that he had lost his own. “ I went to school for years Michel. So many years. Just for this. For this moment. ” Michel stood motionless, still afraid to reach his hand up to feel what had happened to his face. “ Well Michel, nothing to say? You don ’ t know who I am? Anyways, touch it. Feel what I did to you, Michel. ” “ What the hell is this? ” Michel yelled. Each movement of his face brought on excruciating jolts of pain that crippled him instantly into a kneel, his hands now covering his face. However, he didn ’ t feel a bare face of bloodied flesh and muscle. He felt skin. “ What have you done to me? ” Michel screamed into his hands. He broke out weeping, completely forgetting the dead bodies that lay behind him. “ What is this on my face? ” he cried. “ What have you done to me? ” he said again, half growling, half crying. “ I want you to guess whose face you ’ re wearing Michel. ” The killer was brought down himself onto his back, laughing uncontrollably. He slowly rose back up and stared at Michel. “ GUESS WHOSE FACE YOU ’ RE WEARING DAMMIT! ” he snapped, getting up off of the floor, wiping away his tears. Michel ’ s face was seamlessly grafted onto the killer ’ s head. He could see scars in several areas, but the job was clearly done professionally. And unfortunately, Michel hadn ’ t had a clue why this was happening to him. Michel stood back up slowly, still sobbing. He looked behind him at several dead bodies that were in the room with them. He reached into his pocket for his phone and his hand came out empty. He looked back at the bodies and ran over to one, hoping to find theirs. “ You won ’ t get any help on this, Michel. Nobody has a phone, no mirrors either, ” said the killer. “ And I won ’ t let you escape ’ til I ’ m done. ” “ How the hell am I supposed to know who ’ s face I have, I don ’ t even know who you are or what ’ s going on! Look at all of the people you killed, you bastard. ” “ Whoa, name calling, won ’ t help you this time, Michel. Not this time. Not now. Not now that I have you. ” Michel ’ s mind was racing trying to come up with something. *Not this time* he ran through his head again. Was there a last time? Had he called the killer names before? He stared at the killer, mortified at the sight of his own face, but he needed to find something out about who this guy was. He was about 5 ’ 6 ’ ’ and was stocky. His hair was covered by a hood. The lisp! He immediately reflected back on middle school. There was a short, chubby boy with a lisp. He was picked on by a few kids but Michel was by far the worst. He called him Stumpy, but with a lisp so it sounded like Thtumpy, and also Stumpty Dumpty. There were many others, some worse, some directed at other traits, such as personality, or his interest in drama and plays. *Masks* Michel remembered again. In high school Stumpy had resorted to wearing masks to school to hide his face, which was also the target of nicknames, but it was more to hide his tears and emotion as kids picked on him. But what had he gone on to do after high school. Michel wasn ’ t sure. “ Why ya so quiet, Michel? ” asked Stumpy. “ Can ’ t remember my face? ” And he broke into laughter once again, laying on his back again as tears welled up under his eyes. “ Stumpy, ” Michel said. “ Stumpy! ” he yelled. Stumpy ’ s laughter stopped. He went dead quite. “ Stumpy, ” he muttered under his breath. “ Don ’ t you dare call me that again, Michel. Don ’ t play with fire. You don ’ t know how long I ’ ve been waiting for this. I earned the power I have over you right now. I earned it all. I fought for it all my life. So you address me as Dr. Alacarta now. That ’ s right, I ’ m a doctor. A real good one too. Recently just performed some groundbreaking new plastic surgeries for burn victims. Their faces get destroyed, but I can recreate the face perfectly. ” Stumpy stood silently for a moment. “ You wan na know my favorite part, Michel? This one was so easy. It wasn ’ t easy to figure out how to graft off my own face. It wasn ’ t easy to graft your face to mine, but it was damned easy to pull off your face, and it was damned easy to graft my face to yours. ” “ Your face? ” Michel whispered, almost just mouthing the words. “ My face. ” Might be continued... </s>

[ WP ] Write about a strong disabled character . Choose any genre/setting and disability you want .

Cheyenna dropped to her knees, placing her palms against the hard-packed earth. Closing her eyes, she felt the slightest rumble, like a distant earthquake. She remained there, perfectly still, deep in concentration. The change was slight, almost imperceptible, but it was there. Whoever–*whatever*–was out there, they were coming closer. Acutely aware of the many pairs of eyes trained on her, she stood up and gave the signal. Immediately, the camp was a mad rush of soldiers darting this way and that, fletching arrows, donning mail and armor. Cheyenna simply stood at the edge of camp, stoic. The wind tugged at her cape as she stared out at the horizon, pensive. A tap on her shoulder by her closest advisor, Erik, awoke her from her reverie. He followed her as she swept through the camp, nodding at soldiers as she made for her captain's tent. Once inside, she began her own preparations, trading her regalia for simpler, more effective gear. But for the captain's insignia on the breast, her uniform looked no different from that of a common archer. Exactly as it should be. A young boy, a messenger for the watchmen, by the looks of it, burst into her tent, gesturing wildly. She nodded to him, sending him on his way, and stepped out into the camp once more. Soldiers parted for her as she made her way to the camp's edge, trailed by Erik and the young boy. When she reached the western lookout point, she saw it: an army was pouring out of the thick forest around the encampment, their armor and swords glittering in the sun. The sight of it enraged her, but she fought to control and channel her anger. As more and more of the army advanced, she sensed her soldiers chomping at the bit, eager for a battle. She stayed them with an upraised fist. Turning around, she used her other hand to sign *righteous conviction*, her division's unofficial motto and a phrase her soldiers knew well. Turning back to face the enemy, she raised her other fist in the air, the signal for *ready. * She could feel the tension in the air, practically shimmering in the space between her men and their opponents. She waited, letting the feeling build, waiting for its crescendo. A stiff breeze caught her cape, and the tension reached a fever pitch. Cheyenna threw both her hands down. Arrows flew freely through the air; the archers' skill was self-evident as most of them found their marks. As the opposing army approached, their numbers significantly lessened, her soldiers quickly swapped their arrows for weapons more appropriate for melee. When the two forces collided, it felt like an earthquake to Cheyenna, exhilarating and jarring all at once. She fought in the thickest part of the battle, her heightened sense of sight and touch making up for her useless ears. She could sense her opponents' moves before they were made, dodging and blocking in a silent dance. Born into a world of ever-present quiet, she could n't make much sense of what it meant to `` hear.'' At times, she was curious, even longed to know what `` hearing'' felt like, but the heat of battle was not one of those times. She'd seen men die because they were distracted by something she could not hear. Judging by the vibration that permeated the air as she twisted and spun and stabbed, she figured battles must be quite distracting to her compatriots. Suddenly, Erik appeared by her side, finishing off an enemy soldier with a flourish of his dagger. *The enemy is fleeing, * he signed. Shoving aside an enemy soldier, she saw it was true. The frontmost lines were locked in battle still, presumably having missed the signal, but the rest were retreating into the trees, leaving behind a field of dead and dying. Cheyenna nodded to him, grateful. Erik was almost always by her side, her liaison to the soldiers she commanded. He was an old and experienced soldier who lost most of his hearing nearly two decades ago in a border skirmish with some dwarves. He could still communicate in the normal way, albeit with difficulty. He learned sign language partially as an easier way of communicating, but mostly, he learned it in order to teach a young, deaf prodigy by the name of Cheyenna. The pair fought off their remaining opponents side-by-side, protecting each other from unanticipated strikes from behind. As the last of the enemy either fell or ran, Cheyenna turned to face her teacher, friend, and advisor. *Victory, * Erik signed, looking relieved. *Thank you. For everything, * Cheyenna replied.

<s>[INST] Write about a strong disabled character . Choose any genre/setting and disability you want . [/INST] Cheyenna dropped to her knees, placing her palms against the hard-packed earth. Closing her eyes, she felt the slightest rumble, like a distant earthquake. She remained there, perfectly still, deep in concentration. The change was slight, almost imperceptible, but it was there. Whoever–*whatever*–was out there, they were coming closer. Acutely aware of the many pairs of eyes trained on her, she stood up and gave the signal. Immediately, the camp was a mad rush of soldiers darting this way and that, fletching arrows, donning mail and armor. Cheyenna simply stood at the edge of camp, stoic. The wind tugged at her cape as she stared out at the horizon, pensive. A tap on her shoulder by her closest advisor, Erik, awoke her from her reverie. He followed her as she swept through the camp, nodding at soldiers as she made for her captain's tent. Once inside, she began her own preparations, trading her regalia for simpler, more effective gear. But for the captain's insignia on the breast, her uniform looked no different from that of a common archer. Exactly as it should be. A young boy, a messenger for the watchmen, by the looks of it, burst into her tent, gesturing wildly. She nodded to him, sending him on his way, and stepped out into the camp once more. Soldiers parted for her as she made her way to the camp's edge, trailed by Erik and the young boy. When she reached the western lookout point, she saw it: an army was pouring out of the thick forest around the encampment, their armor and swords glittering in the sun. The sight of it enraged her, but she fought to control and channel her anger. As more and more of the army advanced, she sensed her soldiers chomping at the bit, eager for a battle. She stayed them with an upraised fist. Turning around, she used her other hand to sign *righteous conviction*, her division's unofficial motto and a phrase her soldiers knew well. Turning back to face the enemy, she raised her other fist in the air, the signal for *ready. * She could feel the tension in the air, practically shimmering in the space between her men and their opponents. She waited, letting the feeling build, waiting for its crescendo. A stiff breeze caught her cape, and the tension reached a fever pitch. Cheyenna threw both her hands down. Arrows flew freely through the air; the archers' skill was self-evident as most of them found their marks. As the opposing army approached, their numbers significantly lessened, her soldiers quickly swapped their arrows for weapons more appropriate for melee. When the two forces collided, it felt like an earthquake to Cheyenna, exhilarating and jarring all at once. She fought in the thickest part of the battle, her heightened sense of sight and touch making up for her useless ears. She could sense her opponents' moves before they were made, dodging and blocking in a silent dance. Born into a world of ever-present quiet, she could n't make much sense of what it meant to `` hear.'' At times, she was curious, even longed to know what `` hearing'' felt like, but the heat of battle was not one of those times. She'd seen men die because they were distracted by something she could not hear. Judging by the vibration that permeated the air as she twisted and spun and stabbed, she figured battles must be quite distracting to her compatriots. Suddenly, Erik appeared by her side, finishing off an enemy soldier with a flourish of his dagger. *The enemy is fleeing, * he signed. Shoving aside an enemy soldier, she saw it was true. The frontmost lines were locked in battle still, presumably having missed the signal, but the rest were retreating into the trees, leaving behind a field of dead and dying. Cheyenna nodded to him, grateful. Erik was almost always by her side, her liaison to the soldiers she commanded. He was an old and experienced soldier who lost most of his hearing nearly two decades ago in a border skirmish with some dwarves. He could still communicate in the normal way, albeit with difficulty. He learned sign language partially as an easier way of communicating, but mostly, he learned it in order to teach a young, deaf prodigy by the name of Cheyenna. The pair fought off their remaining opponents side-by-side, protecting each other from unanticipated strikes from behind. As the last of the enemy either fell or ran, Cheyenna turned to face her teacher, friend, and advisor. *Victory, * Erik signed, looking relieved. *Thank you. For everything, * Cheyenna replied. </s>

[ WP ] As a safety mechanism , the great war machines electrocuted those who attempted to access them without the correct passcodes . This true purpose was forgotten in time , and eventually attempts to access them were used as an execution method for those who were to be put to death .

I knew I should n't have done it, but I was desperate. I had no choice. But that did n't matter. Not to *them. * The priests made their ruling, and now I was to be another sacrifice at The Obelisk. They call it Judgement, but everyone knows what it really is: Death. The source of their priestly authority, their god. Our god. Nobody knows where it came from, or when it arrived -- that's all been lost to the sands of time. But unlike our constructions, it does n't seem to be affected by the ravages of age. But that's neither here nor there, just another stray thought to distract me from what's about to happen. I am to be subjected to it's judgement. Legend has it that 2000 years ago, the Great Founder entered the Halls of Judgement came back out, alive. The wisdom he found within is the basis of the current priestly caste. So risk certain death by running, or almost certain death by Obelisk... I sigh. There never really was any other option. If I had to guts to run, I would n't have done what I did. Meekly, I allow the guards to lead me to the Hall of Judgement. The door silently opens, retreating into the walls, without even a seam to show where they retreated to. Tentatively I step into the chamber. Suddenly, I ca n't hear anything but myself. Glancing back, I see the door has closed again, cutting me off from the outside world. Sound included, apparently. I know from previous Judgements that the door can not be opened until the'supplicant' has been judged. At least I will get to see something that nobody living has seen. Not even the priests know what is about to happen - not that they would admit it! I look around. The Hall of Judgement is... very anti-climactic. It's empty, but for the the door behind me. Even the walls are plain, just white walls lit by a white light from an indeterminate source. On second thought, I think there is another door on the far side of the room, only this one is circular. At least I think it's a door, given the off-white circular border around it, much like the door I entered through. I walk up to it and examine it, for lack of any other option. I can barely see where it comes together, many curved segments spiraling inward towards the center. I ca n't even begin to imagine how that opens. I am startled by a harsh voice, loud and demanding. I turn around to see who is speaking, but I do n't see anyone. The voice finally makes it's way through my brain and I realize I have no idea what it said, or even what language it was speaking. Is that god? The lights turn yellow and start flashing, and I hear a sound to my left. Some sort of panel has folded down from the wall. It has a number of square tiles, and the revealed wall is black and glowing with arcane symbols, some of which I recognize from the engravings on the outside of the Obelisk. I do n't know what's going on. Is this supposed to happen? At the previous executions, the outer door always opens within a few minutes, and the prisoner's smoking and charred body removed. Has it been a few minutes? Did the light kill them? I guess I should do something. I run my fingers across the tiles, and they give a little. I think they're supposed to, I do n't hear any sound that indicates they're breaking. They feel really weird, almost liked the highly polished horn trinkets that the desert nomads sometimes bring to trade, but just different enough to be disconcerting. I notice they also have the style of symbol as the glowing wall ( and is n't *that* strange ). The lights turn red and start pulsing faster and a loud shrieking sound from nowhere starts repeating over and over again, and the harsh voice screams something at me again. I DO N'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! What does the Obelisk want? Is this judgement? To be confused and deafened until it overwhelms me and I burst into flames? When the shrieking started, I must have pressed one of the tiles harder than I intended to, but something seems to have happened? On the glowing wall, the same symbol as on the tile I pressed now appears? Is it some kind of matching game? A test of your ability to learn? I know I ca n't have much time left before I am purified. I do n't want to die! I examine the glow and the tiles as fast as I can. The light is pulsing faster and faster, another tone has joined in on the shrieking. What am I supposed to do? Can I pass the test? I know in the pit of my stomach that I only have a few seconds left. Desperately, I press down on tile after tile whose symbols I recognize. I hope it's enough! As suddenly as it began, the lights go back to a solid, pleasant white. The horrid two-tone shrieking ends. The mysterious voice says something. I still ca n't understand it, but it sounds less demanding, somehow. Nicer. The tile-holder folds back into the wall, leaving only the tiniest of seams that I can only spot because I know exactly where to look. The round door opens -- oh, so that's how that works. It kind of twists open with the curving segments circling around and sliding into the wall. Beyond the door, is a curved hallway, and it has obviously not been used in a long, long time, judging by the dust. I think it's angled downward, like some kind of spiral ramp. I spend a moment considering if I should enter the hallway or not. I'm still not sure if my Judgement is complete or not. Will I be purified if I try to enter? Will I be purified for failing to enter? No... I wo n't go. I'm too much of a coward. As I turn from the hallway, the door whispers closed again. It's been longer than five minutes, has n't it? Judgement is always rendered faster than that. Maybe I wo n't be purified? I cross the room to the door I entered through, the more normal rectangular door -- if anything in this place could be considered normal. As I approach, the door opens. In the profound silence of the Hall of Judgement, I can actually hear it opening this time. Just a faint whisper, like the circular door. The guards are shocked to see me exit the Hall, still alive. One of them even drops his spear! I'm suddenly hit by a rush of emotion, I survived! I was Judged and found worthy! Does that make me a new prophet? Will I have my own holy order? I do n't *feel* any wiser.... maybe I should actually say something instead of standing here like a country bumpkin. I'm not sure what I'll say, but I gather myself to say it. As I open my mouth I notice one of the Guards was n't as shocked as the others, and raised his crossbow. Time seems to slow, I can almost see the cords of the string flexing as it propels the bolt. It feels like an eternity before I feel the sharpened steel embedding itself in my body, piercing my lung. I can barely even comprehend what just happened, even as my legs give out and I start falling, drifting really, toward the ground. My vision fades. All I can hear is the pounding of my blood in my ears. It's cold now. Oddly, I ca n't even feel the bolt in my chest any more. My last thought before everything goes back is how odd it must be that my thought is about odd it is that I ca n't feel what's killing me.

<s>[INST] As a safety mechanism , the great war machines electrocuted those who attempted to access them without the correct passcodes . This true purpose was forgotten in time , and eventually attempts to access them were used as an execution method for those who were to be put to death . [/INST] I knew I should n't have done it, but I was desperate. I had no choice. But that did n't matter. Not to *them. * The priests made their ruling, and now I was to be another sacrifice at The Obelisk. They call it Judgement, but everyone knows what it really is: Death. The source of their priestly authority, their god. Our god. Nobody knows where it came from, or when it arrived -- that's all been lost to the sands of time. But unlike our constructions, it does n't seem to be affected by the ravages of age. But that's neither here nor there, just another stray thought to distract me from what's about to happen. I am to be subjected to it's judgement. Legend has it that 2000 years ago, the Great Founder entered the Halls of Judgement came back out, alive. The wisdom he found within is the basis of the current priestly caste. So risk certain death by running, or almost certain death by Obelisk... I sigh. There never really was any other option. If I had to guts to run, I would n't have done what I did. Meekly, I allow the guards to lead me to the Hall of Judgement. The door silently opens, retreating into the walls, without even a seam to show where they retreated to. Tentatively I step into the chamber. Suddenly, I ca n't hear anything but myself. Glancing back, I see the door has closed again, cutting me off from the outside world. Sound included, apparently. I know from previous Judgements that the door can not be opened until the'supplicant' has been judged. At least I will get to see something that nobody living has seen. Not even the priests know what is about to happen - not that they would admit it! I look around. The Hall of Judgement is... very anti-climactic. It's empty, but for the the door behind me. Even the walls are plain, just white walls lit by a white light from an indeterminate source. On second thought, I think there is another door on the far side of the room, only this one is circular. At least I think it's a door, given the off-white circular border around it, much like the door I entered through. I walk up to it and examine it, for lack of any other option. I can barely see where it comes together, many curved segments spiraling inward towards the center. I ca n't even begin to imagine how that opens. I am startled by a harsh voice, loud and demanding. I turn around to see who is speaking, but I do n't see anyone. The voice finally makes it's way through my brain and I realize I have no idea what it said, or even what language it was speaking. Is that god? The lights turn yellow and start flashing, and I hear a sound to my left. Some sort of panel has folded down from the wall. It has a number of square tiles, and the revealed wall is black and glowing with arcane symbols, some of which I recognize from the engravings on the outside of the Obelisk. I do n't know what's going on. Is this supposed to happen? At the previous executions, the outer door always opens within a few minutes, and the prisoner's smoking and charred body removed. Has it been a few minutes? Did the light kill them? I guess I should do something. I run my fingers across the tiles, and they give a little. I think they're supposed to, I do n't hear any sound that indicates they're breaking. They feel really weird, almost liked the highly polished horn trinkets that the desert nomads sometimes bring to trade, but just different enough to be disconcerting. I notice they also have the style of symbol as the glowing wall ( and is n't *that* strange ). The lights turn red and start pulsing faster and a loud shrieking sound from nowhere starts repeating over and over again, and the harsh voice screams something at me again. I DO N'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! What does the Obelisk want? Is this judgement? To be confused and deafened until it overwhelms me and I burst into flames? When the shrieking started, I must have pressed one of the tiles harder than I intended to, but something seems to have happened? On the glowing wall, the same symbol as on the tile I pressed now appears? Is it some kind of matching game? A test of your ability to learn? I know I ca n't have much time left before I am purified. I do n't want to die! I examine the glow and the tiles as fast as I can. The light is pulsing faster and faster, another tone has joined in on the shrieking. What am I supposed to do? Can I pass the test? I know in the pit of my stomach that I only have a few seconds left. Desperately, I press down on tile after tile whose symbols I recognize. I hope it's enough! As suddenly as it began, the lights go back to a solid, pleasant white. The horrid two-tone shrieking ends. The mysterious voice says something. I still ca n't understand it, but it sounds less demanding, somehow. Nicer. The tile-holder folds back into the wall, leaving only the tiniest of seams that I can only spot because I know exactly where to look. The round door opens -- oh, so that's how that works. It kind of twists open with the curving segments circling around and sliding into the wall. Beyond the door, is a curved hallway, and it has obviously not been used in a long, long time, judging by the dust. I think it's angled downward, like some kind of spiral ramp. I spend a moment considering if I should enter the hallway or not. I'm still not sure if my Judgement is complete or not. Will I be purified if I try to enter? Will I be purified for failing to enter? No... I wo n't go. I'm too much of a coward. As I turn from the hallway, the door whispers closed again. It's been longer than five minutes, has n't it? Judgement is always rendered faster than that. Maybe I wo n't be purified? I cross the room to the door I entered through, the more normal rectangular door -- if anything in this place could be considered normal. As I approach, the door opens. In the profound silence of the Hall of Judgement, I can actually hear it opening this time. Just a faint whisper, like the circular door. The guards are shocked to see me exit the Hall, still alive. One of them even drops his spear! I'm suddenly hit by a rush of emotion, I survived! I was Judged and found worthy! Does that make me a new prophet? Will I have my own holy order? I do n't *feel* any wiser.... maybe I should actually say something instead of standing here like a country bumpkin. I'm not sure what I'll say, but I gather myself to say it. As I open my mouth I notice one of the Guards was n't as shocked as the others, and raised his crossbow. Time seems to slow, I can almost see the cords of the string flexing as it propels the bolt. It feels like an eternity before I feel the sharpened steel embedding itself in my body, piercing my lung. I can barely even comprehend what just happened, even as my legs give out and I start falling, drifting really, toward the ground. My vision fades. All I can hear is the pounding of my blood in my ears. It's cold now. Oddly, I ca n't even feel the bolt in my chest any more. My last thought before everything goes back is how odd it must be that my thought is about odd it is that I ca n't feel what's killing me. </s>

( EU ) You have the most well respected and feared job in all of the world . You go into the wild , and put down rabid Pokemon who 've killed humans .

`` Step aside, kid.'' Those were my words to the trainer. Everyone of them would defend their portable monsters with all they had. But this one trainer was different. This little girl had no words. She just looked down. Maybe she was crying. She definitely wasnt smiling. `` Where is it? Is it this one?'' I inquired. Her Lotad looked at me and became agitated. She pointed a finger into the next room in the house. The call only specified there was one dead, but the parents were `` fine''. They could n't speak. They were destroyed. But to me, not speaking stands as fine by now. I've seen it all. So what could it have been? As I entered the room, I found the body face down. I could see it then. They were twins. The murderer was standing in a corner, scared, trembling in fear. The Seedot shaked more and more as I stepped closer. `` You are no pet. You are a monster.'' I pulled the trigger. I could hear the mother breaking down again. Before stepping out, I saw a picture. Two little girls, one wearing red, the other green, holding a pokeball each, and next to them, the two creatures. How could they look so peaceful and innocent, then do such a wrong? A phone call. In the middle of a contest? How many victims? I'm on my way. Fucking Fire Pokemon.

<s>[INST] ( EU ) You have the most well respected and feared job in all of the world . You go into the wild , and put down rabid Pokemon who 've killed humans . [/INST] `` Step aside, kid.'' Those were my words to the trainer. Everyone of them would defend their portable monsters with all they had. But this one trainer was different. This little girl had no words. She just looked down. Maybe she was crying. She definitely wasnt smiling. `` Where is it? Is it this one?'' I inquired. Her Lotad looked at me and became agitated. She pointed a finger into the next room in the house. The call only specified there was one dead, but the parents were `` fine''. They could n't speak. They were destroyed. But to me, not speaking stands as fine by now. I've seen it all. So what could it have been? As I entered the room, I found the body face down. I could see it then. They were twins. The murderer was standing in a corner, scared, trembling in fear. The Seedot shaked more and more as I stepped closer. `` You are no pet. You are a monster.'' I pulled the trigger. I could hear the mother breaking down again. Before stepping out, I saw a picture. Two little girls, one wearing red, the other green, holding a pokeball each, and next to them, the two creatures. How could they look so peaceful and innocent, then do such a wrong? A phone call. In the middle of a contest? How many victims? I'm on my way. Fucking Fire Pokemon. </s>

[ WP ] Everybody who is not a redditor suddenly disappears in a poof . Alliances start forming around subreddits .

It was n't always like this. The new religion of /r/circlejerk and the cult of GabeN. The girls of /r/gonewild being treated like gods, the men of /r/guns controlling everything, with /r/worldnews being about reddit, /r/AdviceAnimals being more than just a wasteland of karma. But then, that's what's it all about, then. Karma. The more karma you have, the better you are. It's hyper-inflationary. What 10k commanded at the beginning, was what 100k commanded now. Wars were fought over comment karma vs link karma. Really, the best thing was to huddle in the smaller subreddits, particularly fap subreddits. No one was going to kick you out for posting tits to /r/hucow, but they might for posting something to /r/Gaming4Gamers Which by the way, I was in the /r/hucow territory. A little dairy farm set way out in the midwest. Middle of nowhere, next to the slightly bigger /r/farming and /r/kansas Really, just off of 35, set in about 15 acres was an old dairy farm, set to be /r/hucows new residence. I was the messenger. I knew the roads from /r/kansas down to /r/texas and up to /r/northdakota and west to /r/Colorado But mainly, my travels took me to /r/lactation and /r/kansas and back. Just making the usual mail delivery between friends split up between /r/Hucow and /r/lactation and making sure our little farm could continue exists on our hamlet. Which it could, as long as a certain mod got his special milk. But lately, he was asking for more and more. Our girls were wondering if they could keep up with demand. Really what we needed was a supply of Domperidone, which increase milk supply. But that was n't going to happen, as /r/lactation was getting antsy. So I was making a trip over to /r/guns to make a purchase from a guy named /u/zaptal_47 who was a mod there and commanded a large supply of guns. Hopefully, we could take on /r/kansas, but who knew? Really, it came down to how long the girls could last. We only had so much for trade. Thank god we had some good karma after selling the old tractors to /r/cars. Not much, but some. Hopefully, it would n't start before I got back.

<s>[INST] Everybody who is not a redditor suddenly disappears in a poof . Alliances start forming around subreddits . [/INST] It was n't always like this. The new religion of /r/circlejerk and the cult of GabeN. The girls of /r/gonewild being treated like gods, the men of /r/guns controlling everything, with /r/worldnews being about reddit, /r/AdviceAnimals being more than just a wasteland of karma. But then, that's what's it all about, then. Karma. The more karma you have, the better you are. It's hyper-inflationary. What 10k commanded at the beginning, was what 100k commanded now. Wars were fought over comment karma vs link karma. Really, the best thing was to huddle in the smaller subreddits, particularly fap subreddits. No one was going to kick you out for posting tits to /r/hucow, but they might for posting something to /r/Gaming4Gamers Which by the way, I was in the /r/hucow territory. A little dairy farm set way out in the midwest. Middle of nowhere, next to the slightly bigger /r/farming and /r/kansas Really, just off of 35, set in about 15 acres was an old dairy farm, set to be /r/hucows new residence. I was the messenger. I knew the roads from /r/kansas down to /r/texas and up to /r/northdakota and west to /r/Colorado But mainly, my travels took me to /r/lactation and /r/kansas and back. Just making the usual mail delivery between friends split up between /r/Hucow and /r/lactation and making sure our little farm could continue exists on our hamlet. Which it could, as long as a certain mod got his special milk. But lately, he was asking for more and more. Our girls were wondering if they could keep up with demand. Really what we needed was a supply of Domperidone, which increase milk supply. But that was n't going to happen, as /r/lactation was getting antsy. So I was making a trip over to /r/guns to make a purchase from a guy named /u/zaptal_47 who was a mod there and commanded a large supply of guns. Hopefully, we could take on /r/kansas, but who knew? Really, it came down to how long the girls could last. We only had so much for trade. Thank god we had some good karma after selling the old tractors to /r/cars. Not much, but some. Hopefully, it would n't start before I got back. </s>

[ WP ] Whenever humans create a new God it comes into existence . You are the newest one ...

`` So, what are you supposed to be?'' Zeus asked the newest god. `` Well..umm..you see... they called me the RNG. Short for Random Number God'' replied the RNG, who took to calling him self Matthew. The other gods boomed with laughter as they feasted on ambrosia and nectar. The hall was majestic, with great pillars of stone rising at least a hundred feet and chairs, no, thrones in the hundreds filled with gods ranging from prehistoric deities to the Old Man himself. RNG was born due to video games in the early 1990s in which random numbers mattered a lot in video games. Popular sites like Reddit and their communities like PCMR popularized the use of the term, `` RNG''. Matthew did n't feel that special. When he was in a bad mood, people had bad luck with numbers, and vice versa. He did n't have any special powers like the other gods. He had a fun time messing with games of Civilization or Pacman, sometimes even messing with the lottery or casinos. Eventually, however, games moved away from random numbers. Matthew had less and less to do, until one day, the legend became true. They say when a god is forgotten, he fades off slowly. That same day, he started looking pale. Over the course of a feel weeks, he became paler and paler until he disappeared altogether.

<s>[INST] Whenever humans create a new God it comes into existence . You are the newest one ... [/INST] `` So, what are you supposed to be?'' Zeus asked the newest god. `` Well..umm..you see... they called me the RNG. Short for Random Number God'' replied the RNG, who took to calling him self Matthew. The other gods boomed with laughter as they feasted on ambrosia and nectar. The hall was majestic, with great pillars of stone rising at least a hundred feet and chairs, no, thrones in the hundreds filled with gods ranging from prehistoric deities to the Old Man himself. RNG was born due to video games in the early 1990s in which random numbers mattered a lot in video games. Popular sites like Reddit and their communities like PCMR popularized the use of the term, `` RNG''. Matthew did n't feel that special. When he was in a bad mood, people had bad luck with numbers, and vice versa. He did n't have any special powers like the other gods. He had a fun time messing with games of Civilization or Pacman, sometimes even messing with the lottery or casinos. Eventually, however, games moved away from random numbers. Matthew had less and less to do, until one day, the legend became true. They say when a god is forgotten, he fades off slowly. That same day, he started looking pale. Over the course of a feel weeks, he became paler and paler until he disappeared altogether. </s>

[ WP ] You 've kept your immortality secret for thousands of years . Thats going to be a lot harder now that your on a generation ship on a 2000 year voyage .

I've been on this journey for a few hundred years, and I'm starting to grow tired of it. It's hard when you meet a person you love, a person you care for more than anything in the world, and you know that you'll live through their aging, death, and the breaking down of their body. That's the price of being immortal: you are utterly alone. Having lived for thousands of years, I have the appearance of a quite elderly man. My long gray beard almost drags along the floor, and my folds of skin show my age. But my body is still quite strong, and my heart functions well. My mind is still as sharp as ever. I have learned to live with looking old. After living for thousands of years, you learn that being attractive is one of the least important things in life. I obviously ca n't share my secret of immortality with anyone; I'd be branded as a freak, or a demon. They'd all band against me, slaughter me. As I said, I am utterly alone. A short time spent with a woman, maybe a few decades, is enjoyable, yes, but knowing that soon I will never see her again... well, it wears on you. I've mated several hundreds of women, fathered thousands of children, and they're all long gone now. It's a strenuous task, keeping my secret from everyone on this ship. But the way things are set up on this journey across the universe, things work in my favor. Every 100 years, all the people are allowed to reproduce. Dozens of children are born at this time, and they grow up to repeat the same process. The Reproduction Ceremony is today, in fact. I sit down at the long table, looking down at all the adults on the ship. They are all celebrating the fact that this century's children are now born. The babies are all in the nursing room, being cared for by intricately designed machines so the parents can enjoy a hearty meal. I had been there when all the food was being prepared in the kitchen. At every Reproduction Feast of the Century, I like to add a special little ingredient. After everyone had been eating for a few minutes, I suspect it will happen soon. I look up at all the adults on the voyage, and I see the first one. A man starts coughing violently, pounding his chest and flailing about until he simply slumps to the floor. Another person does the same, then another, until everyone in the room is lying on the floor, dead. My thoughts turn to the newborn babies in the nursing room. Time to begin raising this century's children. Ca n't have the machines do it all.

<s>[INST] You 've kept your immortality secret for thousands of years . Thats going to be a lot harder now that your on a generation ship on a 2000 year voyage . [/INST] I've been on this journey for a few hundred years, and I'm starting to grow tired of it. It's hard when you meet a person you love, a person you care for more than anything in the world, and you know that you'll live through their aging, death, and the breaking down of their body. That's the price of being immortal: you are utterly alone. Having lived for thousands of years, I have the appearance of a quite elderly man. My long gray beard almost drags along the floor, and my folds of skin show my age. But my body is still quite strong, and my heart functions well. My mind is still as sharp as ever. I have learned to live with looking old. After living for thousands of years, you learn that being attractive is one of the least important things in life. I obviously ca n't share my secret of immortality with anyone; I'd be branded as a freak, or a demon. They'd all band against me, slaughter me. As I said, I am utterly alone. A short time spent with a woman, maybe a few decades, is enjoyable, yes, but knowing that soon I will never see her again... well, it wears on you. I've mated several hundreds of women, fathered thousands of children, and they're all long gone now. It's a strenuous task, keeping my secret from everyone on this ship. But the way things are set up on this journey across the universe, things work in my favor. Every 100 years, all the people are allowed to reproduce. Dozens of children are born at this time, and they grow up to repeat the same process. The Reproduction Ceremony is today, in fact. I sit down at the long table, looking down at all the adults on the ship. They are all celebrating the fact that this century's children are now born. The babies are all in the nursing room, being cared for by intricately designed machines so the parents can enjoy a hearty meal. I had been there when all the food was being prepared in the kitchen. At every Reproduction Feast of the Century, I like to add a special little ingredient. After everyone had been eating for a few minutes, I suspect it will happen soon. I look up at all the adults on the voyage, and I see the first one. A man starts coughing violently, pounding his chest and flailing about until he simply slumps to the floor. Another person does the same, then another, until everyone in the room is lying on the floor, dead. My thoughts turn to the newborn babies in the nursing room. Time to begin raising this century's children. Ca n't have the machines do it all. </s>

[ WP ] Main character finds a door they 've never seen before , in a house they 've lived in their whole life .

**We wander around the house, thinking to Ourselves: ** Well, We're back home. Christmas. Again. With them... We come back every year. They are family, after all. Remember, Mom and Dad said they'd retire and move somewhere nice after We left for college. Why did they stay? I guess maybe because of Us? No. *Yeah! * We're their only child. This is where We grew up, they do n't want to leave. This is how they remember Us after We left. *God* they're clingy. **What's this door? We think it looks familiar** Wait what? **We stop wandering: ** `` Mom!?'' **She tells Us to wait** No I do n't wan na wait mom, get over here. `` MOM!?'' **Nothing** Ugh forget it she's with Aunty. What is this? We've seen this before, We've definitely seen this before... Right? Yes, of course you have. I do n't think so. Do n't be stupid We grew up here. But I do n't *remember* Do you remember Our birth? What? No. So then I guess it did n't happen, right? Shut up -- God I'm caustic. Even to myself. Yeah, well, that's what you get for being schizophrenic I did n't choose to be -- `` Meh meh, I did n't ask for this, meh, whine whine whine'' *Pfffffft* This is n't a gam- Just go in! OKAY . . . . . . . . . . . . What are you waiting for? Nothing. Then go in. Fine! **I've finally built up the strength to grab the door handle** Finally **He says, as if he would n't be scared. He forgets he's still me** Okay? *'' Okay? `` * ... C'mon! What!? Turn it! Okay! **I turn the handle and push it open** **It's pitch black** ... Okay! Let's go! Stop. What? There's nothing. Wait. . . . Turn on the light **Shit** ***click*** **We both say simultaneously, in a hushed exclamation: ** ^^^WHAT? **It's Our room. Not Our childhood room. It's Our room back home, in Chicago. How did they know what it looks like? We walk in. Everything's the same. Our laptop is right where We left it. Our window is still open. That glass of water is still on Our night stand. How did they do this? How did they know** ***SLAM*** **The door is closed shut by the wind, and the light again go out** Oh my god... Get Us out of here! Okay! Okay! **I open the door, the lights are off** ***click*** **We're home! ** We're home. **We thought** We're home? **I thought** Apartment 12K... This is Our house How? I do n't know. **We walked to the living room** **We gasp** Mom? Dad? **I think**

<s>[INST] Main character finds a door they 've never seen before , in a house they 've lived in their whole life . [/INST] **We wander around the house, thinking to Ourselves: ** Well, We're back home. Christmas. Again. With them... We come back every year. They are family, after all. Remember, Mom and Dad said they'd retire and move somewhere nice after We left for college. Why did they stay? I guess maybe because of Us? No. *Yeah! * We're their only child. This is where We grew up, they do n't want to leave. This is how they remember Us after We left. *God* they're clingy. **What's this door? We think it looks familiar** Wait what? **We stop wandering: ** `` Mom!?'' **She tells Us to wait** No I do n't wan na wait mom, get over here. `` MOM!?'' **Nothing** Ugh forget it she's with Aunty. What is this? We've seen this before, We've definitely seen this before... Right? Yes, of course you have. I do n't think so. Do n't be stupid We grew up here. But I do n't *remember* Do you remember Our birth? What? No. So then I guess it did n't happen, right? Shut up -- God I'm caustic. Even to myself. Yeah, well, that's what you get for being schizophrenic I did n't choose to be -- `` Meh meh, I did n't ask for this, meh, whine whine whine'' *Pfffffft* This is n't a gam- Just go in! OKAY . . . . . . . . . . . . What are you waiting for? Nothing. Then go in. Fine! **I've finally built up the strength to grab the door handle** Finally **He says, as if he would n't be scared. He forgets he's still me** Okay? *'' Okay? `` * ... C'mon! What!? Turn it! Okay! **I turn the handle and push it open** **It's pitch black** ... Okay! Let's go! Stop. What? There's nothing. Wait. . . . Turn on the light **Shit** ***click*** **We both say simultaneously, in a hushed exclamation: ** ^^^WHAT? **It's Our room. Not Our childhood room. It's Our room back home, in Chicago. How did they know what it looks like? We walk in. Everything's the same. Our laptop is right where We left it. Our window is still open. That glass of water is still on Our night stand. How did they do this? How did they know** ***SLAM*** **The door is closed shut by the wind, and the light again go out** Oh my god... Get Us out of here! Okay! Okay! **I open the door, the lights are off** ***click*** **We're home! ** We're home. **We thought** We're home? **I thought** Apartment 12K... This is Our house How? I do n't know. **We walked to the living room** **We gasp** Mom? Dad? **I think** </s>

[ WP ] As the story unfolds , the reader turns out to be the villian

*Della walked home today. Her mum forgot her again. Her mum Alice was married to her job. She rounded the corner and saw a car parked there. * *The man sitting in it was her teacher Mr Rawlings. He was her favorite teacher. He never gave her homework. And he always had a special gift for her. He was like a father to her. Mr Rawlings saw Della `` Did your mum forget you again?'' Della had ha this conversation with him before. `` Yeah. She is always so busy with her job'' Mr Rawlings told her to hop in and he would give her a lift home. * *As he drove past her street Della started to worry `` That's my street sir'' Mr Rawlings told her not to worry. He was going to take her for ice cream. Della believed him until they hit the outskirts of town. She did n't even know where she was anymore. `` Where are we going sir? `` she asked, she was getting scared now. Mr Rawlings pulled the car over and without a word smacked face. Her eyes welled up with tears. `` Do n't you even think about crying.'' His voice was sinister. He got out of the car, walked around and opened her door and ordered her out. * *She did as she was told, afraid for what might happen. She shakily unbuckled the seat belt and was pulled out of the car and onto the ground. Rawlings bound her hands and feet and put a pillowcase over her head. He picked her up and shoved her into the back of the car, got in and kept driving. He knew he had a couple of hours to drive, her workaholic mum would n't even know she was missing until she got home at nearly midnight. * Anthony Rawlings finished the chapter and slammed the book shut with a thud. He already knew what happened next. He had lived it. He had been hiding in England for 6 years now. Noone knew who he was or what he had done. He did n't speak to anyone for fear of being caught and yet here was an account of the crime he had committed in great detail. He had to know, was it a coincidence that the author of the book wrote this story? Or was there a witness that day? ☆ This is the first time I've ever written anything on WP I usually keep all my stories to myself. Sorry for poor skills XD ☆

<s>[INST] As the story unfolds , the reader turns out to be the villian [/INST] *Della walked home today. Her mum forgot her again. Her mum Alice was married to her job. She rounded the corner and saw a car parked there. * *The man sitting in it was her teacher Mr Rawlings. He was her favorite teacher. He never gave her homework. And he always had a special gift for her. He was like a father to her. Mr Rawlings saw Della `` Did your mum forget you again?'' Della had ha this conversation with him before. `` Yeah. She is always so busy with her job'' Mr Rawlings told her to hop in and he would give her a lift home. * *As he drove past her street Della started to worry `` That's my street sir'' Mr Rawlings told her not to worry. He was going to take her for ice cream. Della believed him until they hit the outskirts of town. She did n't even know where she was anymore. `` Where are we going sir? `` she asked, she was getting scared now. Mr Rawlings pulled the car over and without a word smacked face. Her eyes welled up with tears. `` Do n't you even think about crying.'' His voice was sinister. He got out of the car, walked around and opened her door and ordered her out. * *She did as she was told, afraid for what might happen. She shakily unbuckled the seat belt and was pulled out of the car and onto the ground. Rawlings bound her hands and feet and put a pillowcase over her head. He picked her up and shoved her into the back of the car, got in and kept driving. He knew he had a couple of hours to drive, her workaholic mum would n't even know she was missing until she got home at nearly midnight. * Anthony Rawlings finished the chapter and slammed the book shut with a thud. He already knew what happened next. He had lived it. He had been hiding in England for 6 years now. Noone knew who he was or what he had done. He did n't speak to anyone for fear of being caught and yet here was an account of the crime he had committed in great detail. He had to know, was it a coincidence that the author of the book wrote this story? Or was there a witness that day? ☆ This is the first time I've ever written anything on WP I usually keep all my stories to myself. Sorry for poor skills XD ☆ </s>

[ WP ] Humans are known in the galaxy for being a bit dim , but also for being the very best mechanics around , and inexplicably able to fix machines beyond their comprehension . You have broken down on Earth , and having the apes work on your craft is both fascinating and terrifying .

I am the smartest among my people, the klathu, which are among the most intelligent in the quadrant. Only one thing amazes me, confuses me, even dumbfounds me. How stupid the race known as humans are. How they complain about this. Or complain about that. They scream out into space as loud as they can. Yet they lack the technology to receive any response. They do n't yet speak the galactic language yet. They argue over what language they should speak, or have wars over a primitive fuel. Pathetic. Yet, the potential they hold, terrifies me. Not everybody sees past the flaws,'they still have external genitals, there is no way they can stand up to our evolutionary achievements.'' is what they say. But I know differently, they have tapped into things that no other species could. 2 of their years ago they discovered what they called the higgs boson. Every culture in the quadrant theorized it's existence, but not one could find it. But the humans, they did, even without the genius of a thousand cultures. They are the ones. Although not many cultures found out that these monkeys are the ones. The highest in the quadrant decided with a small group who would'discover' it. It is also noteworthy that the humans showing everyone up followed immediately by there falling on there face. Every species that found out about the new particle and how to get it swiftly found out how it could be useful. It controls the very mass of everything, so naturally it revolutionized everything. But it was n't then that I realized their intelligence. It was when I crashed. I will spare the details, it was quite embarrassing, but I landed in this man's field. I was able to minimize the damage but the landing rendered me unconscious, and busted my ship in many areas. And i had n't the parts or the knowhow to fix it. When I cam to i found myself in a tiny room, furnished with artifacts just slightly smaller than they should be. At first I was confused. Then I saw a creature, I recognized it to be human. `` Howdy, big guy'' At first I was dumbfounded, this primitive thing has taken me into it's home not knowing a thing about me. It smiled or so I think, among many that is universal, so I assumed it was for humans, `` you not from around here? Are you.'' `` No, I am not'' I replied, in my own tongue, and my universal translator responded a second later telling him in his. He chuckled `` that was a joke big guy, you have arms that come to your knees, and you are a full 11 feet tall, with grey skin! Nothing like that round here'' `` My vehicle'', I snapped, not wanting to get caught up in some low conversation about how we do n't look the same. But truly I was slightly offended he thought my clothes were my skin. `` Where is it, I ca n't be here much longer. The air is poison to me.'' this was a complete lie. No species in the universe as far as we know do n't breath just like the humans. Cept for a water dweller. I just wanted to shut him up. So I could get back to my surveying of different stars. `` Well it took me a bit to figure out. But I think I know what's wrong with it.'' he said in a tone that sounded somewhat proud. `` I even think I know why you crashed'' at first I thought this was ridiculous, that this unevolved creature could figure out my ship. In fact from what i gathered this thing was a farmer, he actually gathers plant matter for other of his kind to eat. But remembering the boson I inquired. `` Yup, ya see, I found where the fuel should go, and found something glowing in it, figured that was alright, ya are an alien after all, but if ya follow this line that goes into the engine, there is a break in it, yur leaking every where, man. That caused something in the back to blow'' he said all of this like he was absolutely sure what was going on. He had many thing's right. Although him calling the hyper drive combuster an engine was a tad primitive he was on the right track. And the glowing bit, he was inches away from a mixture that his species never laid there eyes on before, I was amazed he correctly identified it as fuel. `` You are smarter than you look'' `` I get that a lot, ya want me to fix-er-up for ya?'' `` You do n't have the right metals here, but a temporary fix using some titanium from this earth may be enough to get me home'' After that he fixed me up, it only took one of their planet's days, ( an afternoon for my species ), while he was getting the pipe, I wrote down a formula for a much stronger form of titanium that the earth would n't be able to invent for another hundred rotations. I told him to tell no one about me, told him of this metal, and left, to do my job. Terrified, of what I had done. I had given them a tool that could allow them to get into even playing grounds with us. Knowing of there warmongering ways, I regret doing what I did. But also, slightly excited, for how it will all turn out.

<s>[INST] Humans are known in the galaxy for being a bit dim , but also for being the very best mechanics around , and inexplicably able to fix machines beyond their comprehension . You have broken down on Earth , and having the apes work on your craft is both fascinating and terrifying . [/INST] I am the smartest among my people, the klathu, which are among the most intelligent in the quadrant. Only one thing amazes me, confuses me, even dumbfounds me. How stupid the race known as humans are. How they complain about this. Or complain about that. They scream out into space as loud as they can. Yet they lack the technology to receive any response. They do n't yet speak the galactic language yet. They argue over what language they should speak, or have wars over a primitive fuel. Pathetic. Yet, the potential they hold, terrifies me. Not everybody sees past the flaws,'they still have external genitals, there is no way they can stand up to our evolutionary achievements.'' is what they say. But I know differently, they have tapped into things that no other species could. 2 of their years ago they discovered what they called the higgs boson. Every culture in the quadrant theorized it's existence, but not one could find it. But the humans, they did, even without the genius of a thousand cultures. They are the ones. Although not many cultures found out that these monkeys are the ones. The highest in the quadrant decided with a small group who would'discover' it. It is also noteworthy that the humans showing everyone up followed immediately by there falling on there face. Every species that found out about the new particle and how to get it swiftly found out how it could be useful. It controls the very mass of everything, so naturally it revolutionized everything. But it was n't then that I realized their intelligence. It was when I crashed. I will spare the details, it was quite embarrassing, but I landed in this man's field. I was able to minimize the damage but the landing rendered me unconscious, and busted my ship in many areas. And i had n't the parts or the knowhow to fix it. When I cam to i found myself in a tiny room, furnished with artifacts just slightly smaller than they should be. At first I was confused. Then I saw a creature, I recognized it to be human. `` Howdy, big guy'' At first I was dumbfounded, this primitive thing has taken me into it's home not knowing a thing about me. It smiled or so I think, among many that is universal, so I assumed it was for humans, `` you not from around here? Are you.'' `` No, I am not'' I replied, in my own tongue, and my universal translator responded a second later telling him in his. He chuckled `` that was a joke big guy, you have arms that come to your knees, and you are a full 11 feet tall, with grey skin! Nothing like that round here'' `` My vehicle'', I snapped, not wanting to get caught up in some low conversation about how we do n't look the same. But truly I was slightly offended he thought my clothes were my skin. `` Where is it, I ca n't be here much longer. The air is poison to me.'' this was a complete lie. No species in the universe as far as we know do n't breath just like the humans. Cept for a water dweller. I just wanted to shut him up. So I could get back to my surveying of different stars. `` Well it took me a bit to figure out. But I think I know what's wrong with it.'' he said in a tone that sounded somewhat proud. `` I even think I know why you crashed'' at first I thought this was ridiculous, that this unevolved creature could figure out my ship. In fact from what i gathered this thing was a farmer, he actually gathers plant matter for other of his kind to eat. But remembering the boson I inquired. `` Yup, ya see, I found where the fuel should go, and found something glowing in it, figured that was alright, ya are an alien after all, but if ya follow this line that goes into the engine, there is a break in it, yur leaking every where, man. That caused something in the back to blow'' he said all of this like he was absolutely sure what was going on. He had many thing's right. Although him calling the hyper drive combuster an engine was a tad primitive he was on the right track. And the glowing bit, he was inches away from a mixture that his species never laid there eyes on before, I was amazed he correctly identified it as fuel. `` You are smarter than you look'' `` I get that a lot, ya want me to fix-er-up for ya?'' `` You do n't have the right metals here, but a temporary fix using some titanium from this earth may be enough to get me home'' After that he fixed me up, it only took one of their planet's days, ( an afternoon for my species ), while he was getting the pipe, I wrote down a formula for a much stronger form of titanium that the earth would n't be able to invent for another hundred rotations. I told him to tell no one about me, told him of this metal, and left, to do my job. Terrified, of what I had done. I had given them a tool that could allow them to get into even playing grounds with us. Knowing of there warmongering ways, I regret doing what I did. But also, slightly excited, for how it will all turn out. </s>

[ WP ] A man somehow gets high off sadness , but starts to build a tolerance to sad scenarios .

I remember the first time the sight of another person's tears excited me. I was 8 years old, and my father was leaving my mother for another woman. I watched through a crack in the living room door as he berated her, telling her it was her own fault. She'd failed to lose the baby weight, she was no longer attractive, she was the reason they had n't had sex in a year. I should have felt bad for my mother, but her tears made me feel like I was at the top of the world. Whenever I heard her crying in her bedroom, I would stand in the doorway and watch. When she noticed me, she would pull me into a hug which would kill my high, so I'd push her away and tell her I wanted to live with Dad and Sarah to make her cry harder. Eventually it was n't enough just to see her cry. At the age of 14 I came home from school one day and found her in the bathtub, pills scattered on the floor. She was still alive, and I had the choice to save her. I chose not to. Instead I waited for my younger brother to come home and find her. Watching him scream and beg for her to wake up gave me my biggest buzz yet. My second biggest buzz was at her funeral, where I watched the distraught faces of my grandmother, aunts and uncles. It was hell for them. I was on Cloud 9. I started to look into situations where I could maintain that same high. Sad films did n't cut it, and it was rare to find people in distress out on the street. I started attending the funerals of strangers, enjoying the thrill I got from their distressed family and friends. I even got a shiver down my spine for the funerals that no one attended, imagining the lonely death of the person whose final resting place would be a pauper's grave. It was then that I realised what I wanted to do with my life. I trained and found employment as an undertaker. I spent every day feeling that familiar buzz as I'd watch people break down, or stare at a corpse that had been mangled beyond all recognition. Eventually the tingle dulled, and eventually disappeared. I tried everything to get it back. I `` unintentionally'' insulted grieving customers or tried to have something `` go wrong'' at the funeral to make them feel worse. Nothing. I eventually gave up. I got married, and my wife gave birth to two beautiful children. Yesterday, I made a passing comment about my wife's stretch marks. I did n't mean to, and I was about to apologise until I noticed that I had made her cry, and that familiar tingle came back again. I told her she could stand to lose some weight, that it was her fault we never had sex anymore and I should find someone new. I've never felt so good.

<s>[INST] A man somehow gets high off sadness , but starts to build a tolerance to sad scenarios . [/INST] I remember the first time the sight of another person's tears excited me. I was 8 years old, and my father was leaving my mother for another woman. I watched through a crack in the living room door as he berated her, telling her it was her own fault. She'd failed to lose the baby weight, she was no longer attractive, she was the reason they had n't had sex in a year. I should have felt bad for my mother, but her tears made me feel like I was at the top of the world. Whenever I heard her crying in her bedroom, I would stand in the doorway and watch. When she noticed me, she would pull me into a hug which would kill my high, so I'd push her away and tell her I wanted to live with Dad and Sarah to make her cry harder. Eventually it was n't enough just to see her cry. At the age of 14 I came home from school one day and found her in the bathtub, pills scattered on the floor. She was still alive, and I had the choice to save her. I chose not to. Instead I waited for my younger brother to come home and find her. Watching him scream and beg for her to wake up gave me my biggest buzz yet. My second biggest buzz was at her funeral, where I watched the distraught faces of my grandmother, aunts and uncles. It was hell for them. I was on Cloud 9. I started to look into situations where I could maintain that same high. Sad films did n't cut it, and it was rare to find people in distress out on the street. I started attending the funerals of strangers, enjoying the thrill I got from their distressed family and friends. I even got a shiver down my spine for the funerals that no one attended, imagining the lonely death of the person whose final resting place would be a pauper's grave. It was then that I realised what I wanted to do with my life. I trained and found employment as an undertaker. I spent every day feeling that familiar buzz as I'd watch people break down, or stare at a corpse that had been mangled beyond all recognition. Eventually the tingle dulled, and eventually disappeared. I tried everything to get it back. I `` unintentionally'' insulted grieving customers or tried to have something `` go wrong'' at the funeral to make them feel worse. Nothing. I eventually gave up. I got married, and my wife gave birth to two beautiful children. Yesterday, I made a passing comment about my wife's stretch marks. I did n't mean to, and I was about to apologise until I noticed that I had made her cry, and that familiar tingle came back again. I told her she could stand to lose some weight, that it was her fault we never had sex anymore and I should find someone new. I've never felt so good. </s>

[ WP ] When all the snow melts in NYC , they 're gon na find all the bodies of the people they thought were n't getting murdered .

[ Language ] The city, she's a war zone kid. Ya know, I never truly knew how bad it was till the day I got my badge. I guess it's one of those things you got ta see to believe. Ya got all these busy folk living high in their towers, they do n't know how it is on the streets. Their nose's is too high to smell the stink and their eyes are always focused on the future. For the last ten years though I've seen everything, I've smelled it all, and nothing surprises me. That is until the day no ones got murdered. Some of the other boys called it a fluke, an easy day, just winding up the rubber band to snap harder tomorrow. I did n't know what to think. No one died? Bull, people is always dyin'. Except they were n't. They sun rose and sank over these grimy streets and not a single hooker, deadbeat, loan shark, gangster, addict, pentecostal, speeder, tourist, cabbie, or trash man died. Remarkable. I could n't really sleep that night. Instead I watched as the snow fell in blankets covering the soot and dust of my streets. Behind the steam of my cup of joe I watched millimeters turn ta inches; inches ta feet, feet to... A whole fuckin lotta snow. The next day it was the same story. Ya I know, one day's weird and'remarkable,' but two? That's uncanny. Something's fishy and I ai n't talkin about the Hudson. That night there was more snow. For the week that followed we Apple Eaters laid off one anotha. The only fights were the ones armed with snowballs conscripted by yelping kids three feets tall. And well for a minute I'll admit, and I ai n't proud to admit this, but I even relaxed a little. Drank myself some Jameson Irish Whiskey, ate a good steak, hell, I even took out this cute gal I'd been eyein in the office. Things were... Good. A little too good and dammit any blue worth his salt shoulda smelled the shit, but I did n't. I do n't know maybe I did n't want to. Ten years of working the beat can really grind ya down. I was tired, so I took a break. Silly me, I shoulda known this city never sleeps or even takes a break for that matter. When the snow finally melted we all saw the horror. Even them hootie tootie business types paused for a brief second to see the carnage. They were everywhere. A week without bodies ended with the day of the dead. And I ai n't talkin about no fucking zombies. These were frozen, blue stiffs. The rubber band got wound up too tight and snapped right back in our faces. Beneath that blanket of ignorance I found my hookers, and my addicts, even my double-damned penteconstals. All there. All dead. Murdered. Back to the grind for all us boys in blue. We had a helluva lotta work to do. The trash men shoveled the corpses up and outta the streets, but the cold snow made some bits stick. I'm talking like hands, fingers, some teeth here and there, I even saw a whole foot once, but it did n't matter. Hell, no one cared, no one even noticed. Just more trash that'll wash down the drain and into the Atlantic eventually. Just some more dirt on our town. The killin did n't wait for us to clean up or figure out that mess either. Twenty-four homicides the day after. Like a said, city's a fuckin war zone.

<s>[INST] When all the snow melts in NYC , they 're gon na find all the bodies of the people they thought were n't getting murdered . [/INST] [ Language ] The city, she's a war zone kid. Ya know, I never truly knew how bad it was till the day I got my badge. I guess it's one of those things you got ta see to believe. Ya got all these busy folk living high in their towers, they do n't know how it is on the streets. Their nose's is too high to smell the stink and their eyes are always focused on the future. For the last ten years though I've seen everything, I've smelled it all, and nothing surprises me. That is until the day no ones got murdered. Some of the other boys called it a fluke, an easy day, just winding up the rubber band to snap harder tomorrow. I did n't know what to think. No one died? Bull, people is always dyin'. Except they were n't. They sun rose and sank over these grimy streets and not a single hooker, deadbeat, loan shark, gangster, addict, pentecostal, speeder, tourist, cabbie, or trash man died. Remarkable. I could n't really sleep that night. Instead I watched as the snow fell in blankets covering the soot and dust of my streets. Behind the steam of my cup of joe I watched millimeters turn ta inches; inches ta feet, feet to... A whole fuckin lotta snow. The next day it was the same story. Ya I know, one day's weird and'remarkable,' but two? That's uncanny. Something's fishy and I ai n't talkin about the Hudson. That night there was more snow. For the week that followed we Apple Eaters laid off one anotha. The only fights were the ones armed with snowballs conscripted by yelping kids three feets tall. And well for a minute I'll admit, and I ai n't proud to admit this, but I even relaxed a little. Drank myself some Jameson Irish Whiskey, ate a good steak, hell, I even took out this cute gal I'd been eyein in the office. Things were... Good. A little too good and dammit any blue worth his salt shoulda smelled the shit, but I did n't. I do n't know maybe I did n't want to. Ten years of working the beat can really grind ya down. I was tired, so I took a break. Silly me, I shoulda known this city never sleeps or even takes a break for that matter. When the snow finally melted we all saw the horror. Even them hootie tootie business types paused for a brief second to see the carnage. They were everywhere. A week without bodies ended with the day of the dead. And I ai n't talkin about no fucking zombies. These were frozen, blue stiffs. The rubber band got wound up too tight and snapped right back in our faces. Beneath that blanket of ignorance I found my hookers, and my addicts, even my double-damned penteconstals. All there. All dead. Murdered. Back to the grind for all us boys in blue. We had a helluva lotta work to do. The trash men shoveled the corpses up and outta the streets, but the cold snow made some bits stick. I'm talking like hands, fingers, some teeth here and there, I even saw a whole foot once, but it did n't matter. Hell, no one cared, no one even noticed. Just more trash that'll wash down the drain and into the Atlantic eventually. Just some more dirt on our town. The killin did n't wait for us to clean up or figure out that mess either. Twenty-four homicides the day after. Like a said, city's a fuckin war zone. </s>

[ WP ] Every morning you wake up and a small device sits on your nightstand with a green light . Today , that light is red .

It was early, no sound over the radio as the alarm woke me. Strange I thought until I seen it. I glanced over at where the light would usually sit. It was red today. I do n't think I ever remember it being red. With the indication of the light I opened the cupboard and got dressed into my suit for the occasion and left my room to go down the corridor. There was no one else awake and the hallway was colder than normal which made me shiver. At the end of the hallway I opened the outer door and proceded into the 2 way lock. Finally getting outside I could see the Earth below me.I knew it was finally over. I could go home.

<s>[INST] Every morning you wake up and a small device sits on your nightstand with a green light . Today , that light is red . [/INST] It was early, no sound over the radio as the alarm woke me. Strange I thought until I seen it. I glanced over at where the light would usually sit. It was red today. I do n't think I ever remember it being red. With the indication of the light I opened the cupboard and got dressed into my suit for the occasion and left my room to go down the corridor. There was no one else awake and the hallway was colder than normal which made me shiver. At the end of the hallway I opened the outer door and proceded into the 2 way lock. Finally getting outside I could see the Earth below me.I knew it was finally over. I could go home. </s>

[ CW ] The Reverse Alphabet Game - The first CW prompt [ Difficulty Level : DAMN NEAR IMPOSSIBLE ]

“ *ZEEEEEEEETAAAAA! * ” Yells echoed everywhere around me. Xera, the queen herself, was out looking for the girl, too. Well, I suppose that you ’ d assume she would look for her own daughter. Vengeance light up her eyes, and I knew that whoever had taken the princess would not get off very easily. Usually, when someone went missing, we would wait a day or two to see if they showed up. This time, the Guard was called immediately and a search was started. Someone had taken the princess, and that wasn ’ t a petty, forgettable crime. Ranging up and down the foothills, I could find no tracks of any kind. Quite literally, the kidnappers had left no trail. Possibly, they ’ d run off through the trees, but it seemed unlikely that they could do that carrying the 100 pound princess. Over every hill, there was nothing but the empty forest to greet me and taunt me. No signs of any disturbance. Moreover, the sky was beginning to darken, and the trail would go cold, soon. Lazily drifting, I plodded along the path until I found a tree that looked capable of supporting my weight and providing a comfortable night ’ s rest. Kicking off my shoes, I prepared to climb. Just as I placed my hands on the trunk, I noticed a shining piece of fabric caught in a branch, higher up. Impossible. Half excited, half scared, I climbed the tree. I observed the fabric closely. Gold griffins looked up at me, sewn into the fabric with an expert ’ s hand. Feeling it confirmed that it was silk, and upon a moment ’ s thought I remembered the design on the princess ’ s dress. Excited for the thrill of the chase, I took off to tell the King I ’ d found a clue. During my reckless flight, though, I tripped and crashed into the ground. Catching my breath slowly, I stood up. Blood was everywhere, and I knew none of it was mine. At my feet was the princess.

<s>[INST] [ CW ] The Reverse Alphabet Game - The first CW prompt [ Difficulty Level : DAMN NEAR IMPOSSIBLE ] [/INST] “ *ZEEEEEEEETAAAAA! * ” Yells echoed everywhere around me. Xera, the queen herself, was out looking for the girl, too. Well, I suppose that you ’ d assume she would look for her own daughter. Vengeance light up her eyes, and I knew that whoever had taken the princess would not get off very easily. Usually, when someone went missing, we would wait a day or two to see if they showed up. This time, the Guard was called immediately and a search was started. Someone had taken the princess, and that wasn ’ t a petty, forgettable crime. Ranging up and down the foothills, I could find no tracks of any kind. Quite literally, the kidnappers had left no trail. Possibly, they ’ d run off through the trees, but it seemed unlikely that they could do that carrying the 100 pound princess. Over every hill, there was nothing but the empty forest to greet me and taunt me. No signs of any disturbance. Moreover, the sky was beginning to darken, and the trail would go cold, soon. Lazily drifting, I plodded along the path until I found a tree that looked capable of supporting my weight and providing a comfortable night ’ s rest. Kicking off my shoes, I prepared to climb. Just as I placed my hands on the trunk, I noticed a shining piece of fabric caught in a branch, higher up. Impossible. Half excited, half scared, I climbed the tree. I observed the fabric closely. Gold griffins looked up at me, sewn into the fabric with an expert ’ s hand. Feeling it confirmed that it was silk, and upon a moment ’ s thought I remembered the design on the princess ’ s dress. Excited for the thrill of the chase, I took off to tell the King I ’ d found a clue. During my reckless flight, though, I tripped and crashed into the ground. Catching my breath slowly, I stood up. Blood was everywhere, and I knew none of it was mine. At my feet was the princess. </s>

[ WP ] We find evidence of a now extinct race on another planet . We bring DNA samples back to Earth and use them to resurrect the species .

For decades, scientists from the E.C.O. alliance have been studying the ecosystem of Aries-Centari-IV. By a freak stroke of luck, the earth-like ecosystem seems to have created life by and large much like earth, at least on the surface. Recently, however, new discoveries about the microbial life on the surface of the planet has stirred even more interest from the E.C.O. Many of them seem to have oxygen producing properties, which scientists hope that, with care, could be use to restore Sol-III to an at least livable T1 class planet, thus allowing the Terrans to recolonize. “... ugh... more of this crap? ” a fairly young Octan woman shouted back towards the two men from earlier. “ Ey shut up and get to work, this crap ’ s worth more than your flap. ” “ Yeah, it ain ’ t easy getting this sludge with all those bugs out! ” The Octan rolled her eyes, sliding the container off the table and lugging it into the back room of the ship ’ s laboratory. “ Hey Dimitry, we ’ ve got more slime to work with. ” A short balding Terran in one of the large glass quarantine chambers left his work, quickly hopping into the hazard shower and stepping out to greet her. “ Ah, Rea! We ’ ve got more already? ” he shouted enthused. “ Yeah. ” Rea snapped back sarcastically. “ Huh, the expeditions are going faster than I expected... Come, let ’ s bring that sludge to the back! ” The Terran scientist Dimitry smiled as he helped the young Octan carry the large vat of mud into the quarantine chambers. “ Let ’ s put ‘ er down here. ” the scientist spoke once more, as the two set down the containment unit. Gesturing to the nearby closet, the scientist continued “ It ’ s probably for the best you get a suit on before we head in there.'' Rea walked over to the closet, and quickly grabbed a hazmat suit that appeared like it would fit her. It looked like it would be a little too large, but to be honest it was to be expected. Research fields in the modern days of the E.V.O. were very integrated between the different races, anything besides a one-size-fits-all for any of them was typically ordered beforehand. “ So, how ’ s the regeneration going? ” she asked Dimitry, whom was now hunched over the door ’ s opening mechanism, pressing his finger to the scanner marked “ TERRAN ”. “ Ah, we ’ ve been working wonders since you last signed in for work, Rea. We ’ ve managed to revive some rather interesting specimens. There ’ s this one that- ” Sirens began to echo across the entire facility. “... shit. ” was all Dimitry could think to say as the glow of red sirens began to bounce off all the walls in the laboratory, before stopping a few moments later. “... I take it that ’ s not a good sign. ” Rea quickly asked. “ Your first clue was? ” Dimitry snapped back. Sighing, he continued “ Well, at least they got it contained, I ’ m going to go check on the damages. ” Pressing his finger to the scanner again, the door opened and he stepped inside. “ Go tell the ground soldier to stand by. We ’ re going to need backup if we created something hostile. ” Pressing a button on the other side of the door, it slammed shut, and Dimitry rushed deeper into the quarantine zone. “ What happened?! ” Dimitry shouted as he stepped into the room that appeared to be where the incident occurred. One of the other scientists still visibly in shock, pointed over to the thick wall made of glass on the right side of the room. A couple of corpses adorned the floor. It appeared that despite their current wear, something had gotten through and offed them quite quickly. All of them seemed to be covered in green sludge. Before Dimitry could ask any questions, a Arian scientist rushed up to him. “ Dimitry. I need to show you something. Now. ” Not wasting any time, the two rushed into the back of the quarantine area to a room filled with massive screens monitoring each of the testing rooms. Stepping towards the computer console at the bottom, the Arian quickly shoved the device into the bottom, typed out a few commands, and then unplugged it, as a holographic recording of the room they were just in appeared in between the two. “... we were testing one of the specimens we had found with the most oxidizing potential. To see how it would react to the harsh chemicals in Sol-III ’ s atmosphere. Dimitry watched the holographic replay as two scientists stepped into the glass portion of the chamber, fully dressed in hazmat suits, and approaching a small petri dish with aerosol cans of various chemicals in hand. Spraying a generous portion over the dish, the microbes seemed to multiply at a rate visible to the unaided eye, as green sludge oozed over the top. The two scientists rushed away towards the door as two of the scientists outside of the chamber simultaneously pulled down on levers at the door of the room as all the other scientists rushed out. It appeared that this is what happened as the sirens went off. The building green residue exploded and splashed across the entire room, covering the two fleeing scientists as they began to scream, before dropping to the ground. “... Cla... which cloned specimen was that? ” Dimitry quickly asked. “ S-specimen AC4-219. Non-scientific name: Centaurian Pond Scum ” Cla quickly stuttered back. “ Cla... we can ’ t let this get onto Sol-III. It ’ s going to kill everyone on the Committee. ” Cla was quiet. Dimitry quickly spoke up. “... you already sent some off didn ’ t you? ” “... three days ago. The drones should have arrived a few hours ago... ” “... call the Sol base. If any of the local atmosphere leaks in they ’ re going to have a lot more to worry about than a fire hazard on their hands. ” Cla nodded, as she immediately made a beeline to the console, starting up the ship ’ s communication system. Dimitry rushed out the door towards the other rooms in the laboratory. It ’ d be for the best if the science lab was closed while they got things sorted out. Stepping by the room from before, the sirens went off again. Peaking into the room, Dimitry was able to see something shocking. In place of the scientists was nothing more than piles of bones, and a fairly large swarm of small gelatinous creatures were at the solid titanium door, slowly oozing their way through the microscopic cracks. Cla rushed out from the back room and behind Dimitry. “ Okay, change of plans. Tell the captain to sent out a rescue beacon. We ’ re going to have to evacuate. ” she shouted. Dimitry nodded, and the two rushed out. The weather outside was far from pleasant, as humid and warm as it was, but it certainly beat chancing it with the unnatural creatures from the lab.

<s>[INST] We find evidence of a now extinct race on another planet . We bring DNA samples back to Earth and use them to resurrect the species . [/INST] For decades, scientists from the E.C.O. alliance have been studying the ecosystem of Aries-Centari-IV. By a freak stroke of luck, the earth-like ecosystem seems to have created life by and large much like earth, at least on the surface. Recently, however, new discoveries about the microbial life on the surface of the planet has stirred even more interest from the E.C.O. Many of them seem to have oxygen producing properties, which scientists hope that, with care, could be use to restore Sol-III to an at least livable T1 class planet, thus allowing the Terrans to recolonize. “... ugh... more of this crap? ” a fairly young Octan woman shouted back towards the two men from earlier. “ Ey shut up and get to work, this crap ’ s worth more than your flap. ” “ Yeah, it ain ’ t easy getting this sludge with all those bugs out! ” The Octan rolled her eyes, sliding the container off the table and lugging it into the back room of the ship ’ s laboratory. “ Hey Dimitry, we ’ ve got more slime to work with. ” A short balding Terran in one of the large glass quarantine chambers left his work, quickly hopping into the hazard shower and stepping out to greet her. “ Ah, Rea! We ’ ve got more already? ” he shouted enthused. “ Yeah. ” Rea snapped back sarcastically. “ Huh, the expeditions are going faster than I expected... Come, let ’ s bring that sludge to the back! ” The Terran scientist Dimitry smiled as he helped the young Octan carry the large vat of mud into the quarantine chambers. “ Let ’ s put ‘ er down here. ” the scientist spoke once more, as the two set down the containment unit. Gesturing to the nearby closet, the scientist continued “ It ’ s probably for the best you get a suit on before we head in there.'' Rea walked over to the closet, and quickly grabbed a hazmat suit that appeared like it would fit her. It looked like it would be a little too large, but to be honest it was to be expected. Research fields in the modern days of the E.V.O. were very integrated between the different races, anything besides a one-size-fits-all for any of them was typically ordered beforehand. “ So, how ’ s the regeneration going? ” she asked Dimitry, whom was now hunched over the door ’ s opening mechanism, pressing his finger to the scanner marked “ TERRAN ”. “ Ah, we ’ ve been working wonders since you last signed in for work, Rea. We ’ ve managed to revive some rather interesting specimens. There ’ s this one that- ” Sirens began to echo across the entire facility. “... shit. ” was all Dimitry could think to say as the glow of red sirens began to bounce off all the walls in the laboratory, before stopping a few moments later. “... I take it that ’ s not a good sign. ” Rea quickly asked. “ Your first clue was? ” Dimitry snapped back. Sighing, he continued “ Well, at least they got it contained, I ’ m going to go check on the damages. ” Pressing his finger to the scanner again, the door opened and he stepped inside. “ Go tell the ground soldier to stand by. We ’ re going to need backup if we created something hostile. ” Pressing a button on the other side of the door, it slammed shut, and Dimitry rushed deeper into the quarantine zone. “ What happened?! ” Dimitry shouted as he stepped into the room that appeared to be where the incident occurred. One of the other scientists still visibly in shock, pointed over to the thick wall made of glass on the right side of the room. A couple of corpses adorned the floor. It appeared that despite their current wear, something had gotten through and offed them quite quickly. All of them seemed to be covered in green sludge. Before Dimitry could ask any questions, a Arian scientist rushed up to him. “ Dimitry. I need to show you something. Now. ” Not wasting any time, the two rushed into the back of the quarantine area to a room filled with massive screens monitoring each of the testing rooms. Stepping towards the computer console at the bottom, the Arian quickly shoved the device into the bottom, typed out a few commands, and then unplugged it, as a holographic recording of the room they were just in appeared in between the two. “... we were testing one of the specimens we had found with the most oxidizing potential. To see how it would react to the harsh chemicals in Sol-III ’ s atmosphere. Dimitry watched the holographic replay as two scientists stepped into the glass portion of the chamber, fully dressed in hazmat suits, and approaching a small petri dish with aerosol cans of various chemicals in hand. Spraying a generous portion over the dish, the microbes seemed to multiply at a rate visible to the unaided eye, as green sludge oozed over the top. The two scientists rushed away towards the door as two of the scientists outside of the chamber simultaneously pulled down on levers at the door of the room as all the other scientists rushed out. It appeared that this is what happened as the sirens went off. The building green residue exploded and splashed across the entire room, covering the two fleeing scientists as they began to scream, before dropping to the ground. “... Cla... which cloned specimen was that? ” Dimitry quickly asked. “ S-specimen AC4-219. Non-scientific name: Centaurian Pond Scum ” Cla quickly stuttered back. “ Cla... we can ’ t let this get onto Sol-III. It ’ s going to kill everyone on the Committee. ” Cla was quiet. Dimitry quickly spoke up. “... you already sent some off didn ’ t you? ” “... three days ago. The drones should have arrived a few hours ago... ” “... call the Sol base. If any of the local atmosphere leaks in they ’ re going to have a lot more to worry about than a fire hazard on their hands. ” Cla nodded, as she immediately made a beeline to the console, starting up the ship ’ s communication system. Dimitry rushed out the door towards the other rooms in the laboratory. It ’ d be for the best if the science lab was closed while they got things sorted out. Stepping by the room from before, the sirens went off again. Peaking into the room, Dimitry was able to see something shocking. In place of the scientists was nothing more than piles of bones, and a fairly large swarm of small gelatinous creatures were at the solid titanium door, slowly oozing their way through the microscopic cracks. Cla rushed out from the back room and behind Dimitry. “ Okay, change of plans. Tell the captain to sent out a rescue beacon. We ’ re going to have to evacuate. ” she shouted. Dimitry nodded, and the two rushed out. The weather outside was far from pleasant, as humid and warm as it was, but it certainly beat chancing it with the unnatural creatures from the lab. </s>

[ IP ] Blue Mage

Serpent Mogar was just an old fool with nothing better to do than nitpick my performance. Despite knowing this, I could n't help but give a damn about his perspective. I willed forward my mana. It surged like ice through my veins, leaving behind a chill reminiscent of a frost ridden morning. I focused the energy at the tip of my thumb and index finger and then snapped. The energy lurched down my arm, into my palm, and sprung into existence as a blue wisp. I gritted my teeth, the spell I was trying to perform was a Crystal Alension, it required my entire thought process for that specific moment and was a skill I'd spent hours of meditation trying to perfect. The wisp rotated, a second formed, then a third, each one left prickles on the surface of my palm as they spun like a minature cyclone. Serpent Mogar squinted at me from the observation deck at the edge of the training arena. He only did that when you surprised him. Mogar exposed a gloved hand from beneath a white cloak and snapped both index fingers. There was a shift of the energy in the air and a golden diamond floated above his hand. He muttered an incantation and wisps stretched out from his palm onto the assessment grounds. Three headless golden suits of armour materialized around me. My heart raced as spears formed in the hands of the headless golden figures. They approached one heavy step at a time, spraying dirt in different directions. No doubt the Serpent wanted me to prove that I could fight against his creations. However, the most fighting I'd ever done was watch the more experienced mages spar. I was about experienced as a farmer with a sword. `` Serpent,'' I yelled, `` this was n't part of the assessment!'' I tried to maintain my wisps while keeping an eye on the soldiers. A bead of sweat rolled down past the side of my eye, I had n't noticed my perspiration. The blue wisps died down to a faint teal colour they were going to evaporate. I willed forward more mana and put all of my concentration on keeping them alive. Serpent Mogar smirked. `` A mage must deal with rifts in the balance, child.'' Bastard. I closed my eyes and imagined the wisps forming into a crystal -my Jewel, the access to my powers. They rotated faster in the darkness that was the safety behind my eyes. The intense prickles on my palm increased. As did the crunching footsteps of the nearby soldiers. They would be upon me any moment now and I had a feeling that Mogar would like to watch them decimate me. Other mage's had been killed in assessments just like this one. In fact, talk around the camp was that Mogar prided himself on failing and eliminating students. *That* did n't come as much of a surprise. I brought forward every bit of mana in my being. My hand shook with the force of power and the object began to form in my mind, a jewel, crystal shaped and blue. I do n't know why my inner mana gave me the power at this moment in time, but I clung to the idea of it and built the form with every ounce of my being. My hand was a storm of hot and cold, unstable energy and power. The image completed in my mind and I shot a look at my hand in the real world. A blue gem floated over my fingers in harmony. I grinned like an idiot while gasping for air. I remembered the golden suits of armor that were a few seconds away from chopping my head off. I spun toward the figures and flung the power of my jewel out towards them. The figures paused, blue wisps formed above them, and as the jewels formed over their heads they paused in their approach and stared at me. Well, they had no heads, but staring is an accurate description. I placed both hands on my knees and let the sweat drip to the dirt below my shoes. It felt like someone had tipped me upside down and poured the energy from my being into the golden armoured figures. They continued to stare. I locked eyes with Mogar, whose jaw hung open in a state of shock. I smiled. `` Get him,'' I whispered. My armoured servants snapped their spears up and spun toward Mogar. Serpent Mogar stood. `` Now, just hold on a minute-'' `` A mage must deal with rifts in the balance, old Serpent,'' I said. Mogar paled at the words. He pulled his gloved hand out and snapped his fingers once more. However, this time his Jewel did not come, his power was still invested in the figures. I stood tall and walked towards him, chin held high. `` C-Call them off,'' Mogar ordered. `` Do I pass?'' `` Off!'' he shouted as the armoured figures closed the distance. `` Pass?'' Mogar's bottom lip trembled. `` YES! You pass, you bitter girl.'' `` Stop.'' The figures halted and I willed my mana back into me. Serpent recalled his own mana in haste and stormed from the arena. We did n't speak after that, however, I was one of three mage's that the Serpent passed that year. Every now and then I see him in the academy halls and he avoids my gaze. And as much as I loathe the man, he pushed me beyond my limits and my ability to adapt helped me become the mage I am today.

<s>[INST] [ IP ] Blue Mage [/INST] Serpent Mogar was just an old fool with nothing better to do than nitpick my performance. Despite knowing this, I could n't help but give a damn about his perspective. I willed forward my mana. It surged like ice through my veins, leaving behind a chill reminiscent of a frost ridden morning. I focused the energy at the tip of my thumb and index finger and then snapped. The energy lurched down my arm, into my palm, and sprung into existence as a blue wisp. I gritted my teeth, the spell I was trying to perform was a Crystal Alension, it required my entire thought process for that specific moment and was a skill I'd spent hours of meditation trying to perfect. The wisp rotated, a second formed, then a third, each one left prickles on the surface of my palm as they spun like a minature cyclone. Serpent Mogar squinted at me from the observation deck at the edge of the training arena. He only did that when you surprised him. Mogar exposed a gloved hand from beneath a white cloak and snapped both index fingers. There was a shift of the energy in the air and a golden diamond floated above his hand. He muttered an incantation and wisps stretched out from his palm onto the assessment grounds. Three headless golden suits of armour materialized around me. My heart raced as spears formed in the hands of the headless golden figures. They approached one heavy step at a time, spraying dirt in different directions. No doubt the Serpent wanted me to prove that I could fight against his creations. However, the most fighting I'd ever done was watch the more experienced mages spar. I was about experienced as a farmer with a sword. `` Serpent,'' I yelled, `` this was n't part of the assessment!'' I tried to maintain my wisps while keeping an eye on the soldiers. A bead of sweat rolled down past the side of my eye, I had n't noticed my perspiration. The blue wisps died down to a faint teal colour they were going to evaporate. I willed forward more mana and put all of my concentration on keeping them alive. Serpent Mogar smirked. `` A mage must deal with rifts in the balance, child.'' Bastard. I closed my eyes and imagined the wisps forming into a crystal -my Jewel, the access to my powers. They rotated faster in the darkness that was the safety behind my eyes. The intense prickles on my palm increased. As did the crunching footsteps of the nearby soldiers. They would be upon me any moment now and I had a feeling that Mogar would like to watch them decimate me. Other mage's had been killed in assessments just like this one. In fact, talk around the camp was that Mogar prided himself on failing and eliminating students. *That* did n't come as much of a surprise. I brought forward every bit of mana in my being. My hand shook with the force of power and the object began to form in my mind, a jewel, crystal shaped and blue. I do n't know why my inner mana gave me the power at this moment in time, but I clung to the idea of it and built the form with every ounce of my being. My hand was a storm of hot and cold, unstable energy and power. The image completed in my mind and I shot a look at my hand in the real world. A blue gem floated over my fingers in harmony. I grinned like an idiot while gasping for air. I remembered the golden suits of armor that were a few seconds away from chopping my head off. I spun toward the figures and flung the power of my jewel out towards them. The figures paused, blue wisps formed above them, and as the jewels formed over their heads they paused in their approach and stared at me. Well, they had no heads, but staring is an accurate description. I placed both hands on my knees and let the sweat drip to the dirt below my shoes. It felt like someone had tipped me upside down and poured the energy from my being into the golden armoured figures. They continued to stare. I locked eyes with Mogar, whose jaw hung open in a state of shock. I smiled. `` Get him,'' I whispered. My armoured servants snapped their spears up and spun toward Mogar. Serpent Mogar stood. `` Now, just hold on a minute-'' `` A mage must deal with rifts in the balance, old Serpent,'' I said. Mogar paled at the words. He pulled his gloved hand out and snapped his fingers once more. However, this time his Jewel did not come, his power was still invested in the figures. I stood tall and walked towards him, chin held high. `` C-Call them off,'' Mogar ordered. `` Do I pass?'' `` Off!'' he shouted as the armoured figures closed the distance. `` Pass?'' Mogar's bottom lip trembled. `` YES! You pass, you bitter girl.'' `` Stop.'' The figures halted and I willed my mana back into me. Serpent recalled his own mana in haste and stormed from the arena. We did n't speak after that, however, I was one of three mage's that the Serpent passed that year. Every now and then I see him in the academy halls and he avoids my gaze. And as much as I loathe the man, he pushed me beyond my limits and my ability to adapt helped me become the mage I am today. </s>

[ WP ] You 're in hell when it begins to freeze over .

The fires are out. The fires should never be out. Many of the others were visibly shaken as the first wave of shock made its way through the ranks. I've only been serving for two millennia, but not even the higher ranking officers seem to know what's going on. Pure chaos. Well, even more chaos then usual for the third floor. The brass screaming conflicting commands while the humidity of the normally sweltering air condensed along the carved stone walls. The sprites and goblins that skulk the hallways looking for scraps seem to have vanished along with the heat. My superior, Greigorria, a demon of mammoth stature was busy organizing the wardens of our floor. The cells were to be secured, the patrols constant, until this was over. Whatever it was. His record of never losing a single soul left in his care was a badge of honor for the beastly overseer. And he would be saved long before he let his reputation was tarnished. The overseer was mid sentence when his entire being seemed to shutter. His ears perked up and his head tilted at an odd angle as he cut off his words. It took a moment, but suddenly it seemed to strike all of the lower demons at the same time. The silence. There should never be silence. Greigorria Howled at his underlings, spurring them into action, the souls were still there, every cell was checked and double checked. The normally animated inmates all seemed to be facing the back of their tiny rooms without so much as a peep escaping them collectively. Black nails digging into well worn groves of his massive desk. The marks in the black stone building up over the eons, a testament to the frustration of orchestrating an unruly mob. The walls were now slick with a thin sheet of ice. I could see my breath hanging in the air. Word was that The king himself had gone missing at the start of this. Baseless rumors, the official couriers from the upper levels streaming in an out, down to the lower levels for more reports. Contact with the lower levels seemed to have come to a halt, couriers sent either had no news to bring back or something required their attention once they reached their destination. Not unheard of, although no official statements from below at a time like this was clearly making the overseer agitated. Returning to the main chamber a fierce gaze brought me out of thought. The last time I felt those burning eyes upon me this intently Greigorria had thrown his giant stone slab of a desk at me. This time I was certain I had n't overlooked a mistake. My cells were locked, the souls were secured, i could n't afford to second guess myself in front of the beast. Posture shooting up, sharp and straight as I gave a salute to the master of the floor. He kept looking at me as if trying to divine answers from the ether of my very being. After a few excruciatingly long moments He spoke. `` You...'' `` Firoz.'' interjected a small bookish imp at the overseer's side. Peering over a roll of parchment at me as well. The overseer gave a slow blink in acceptance. `` Firoz,'' He stated, the deep voice and sharp teeth grinding at my name as he spoke again `` A company of Hellions has been dispatched from the first floor. You will join them when they arrive and head to the lower levels as an emissary.'' He took a deep breath, I had a feeling I would not enjoy what he had in mind for me. I mean, Hellions. THE LEGION. The guys who guard the gates of the underworld itself. The elites said to rival the angels themselves. And I was supposed to just tag along? `` You will return to me the moment you find any useful information. The Hellions already have their orders. You are not to interfere, only observe. Once you know the situation you will return here without hesitation. You will speak to no one but myself pertaining this matter.'' With a swift motion his hand raised. Thumb and forefinger clasping together and tugging as if plucking an idea from the air itself. I felt the breath rush out of me without a sound, as I struggled to regain my wind my voice would n't even rise for a'Yes Sir.' He had taken my voice from me with the ease at which one would create the stroke of a pen. `` Now, go. Welcome our guests at the gate. And do n't get in their way.'' He shooed me away with one massive hand, turning to a pile of reports that had arrived from the upper floors. The walk to the upper gates might have well been a death march. The stares from my peers burning into my back as I made my way to the meeting point. Calling in a group of Hellions meant this was serious. It made me highly doubt that the courier sent before me had a choice to come back at all. The cold finally seemed to settle into my bones as my own dread grew with each step.

<s>[INST] You 're in hell when it begins to freeze over . [/INST] The fires are out. The fires should never be out. Many of the others were visibly shaken as the first wave of shock made its way through the ranks. I've only been serving for two millennia, but not even the higher ranking officers seem to know what's going on. Pure chaos. Well, even more chaos then usual for the third floor. The brass screaming conflicting commands while the humidity of the normally sweltering air condensed along the carved stone walls. The sprites and goblins that skulk the hallways looking for scraps seem to have vanished along with the heat. My superior, Greigorria, a demon of mammoth stature was busy organizing the wardens of our floor. The cells were to be secured, the patrols constant, until this was over. Whatever it was. His record of never losing a single soul left in his care was a badge of honor for the beastly overseer. And he would be saved long before he let his reputation was tarnished. The overseer was mid sentence when his entire being seemed to shutter. His ears perked up and his head tilted at an odd angle as he cut off his words. It took a moment, but suddenly it seemed to strike all of the lower demons at the same time. The silence. There should never be silence. Greigorria Howled at his underlings, spurring them into action, the souls were still there, every cell was checked and double checked. The normally animated inmates all seemed to be facing the back of their tiny rooms without so much as a peep escaping them collectively. Black nails digging into well worn groves of his massive desk. The marks in the black stone building up over the eons, a testament to the frustration of orchestrating an unruly mob. The walls were now slick with a thin sheet of ice. I could see my breath hanging in the air. Word was that The king himself had gone missing at the start of this. Baseless rumors, the official couriers from the upper levels streaming in an out, down to the lower levels for more reports. Contact with the lower levels seemed to have come to a halt, couriers sent either had no news to bring back or something required their attention once they reached their destination. Not unheard of, although no official statements from below at a time like this was clearly making the overseer agitated. Returning to the main chamber a fierce gaze brought me out of thought. The last time I felt those burning eyes upon me this intently Greigorria had thrown his giant stone slab of a desk at me. This time I was certain I had n't overlooked a mistake. My cells were locked, the souls were secured, i could n't afford to second guess myself in front of the beast. Posture shooting up, sharp and straight as I gave a salute to the master of the floor. He kept looking at me as if trying to divine answers from the ether of my very being. After a few excruciatingly long moments He spoke. `` You...'' `` Firoz.'' interjected a small bookish imp at the overseer's side. Peering over a roll of parchment at me as well. The overseer gave a slow blink in acceptance. `` Firoz,'' He stated, the deep voice and sharp teeth grinding at my name as he spoke again `` A company of Hellions has been dispatched from the first floor. You will join them when they arrive and head to the lower levels as an emissary.'' He took a deep breath, I had a feeling I would not enjoy what he had in mind for me. I mean, Hellions. THE LEGION. The guys who guard the gates of the underworld itself. The elites said to rival the angels themselves. And I was supposed to just tag along? `` You will return to me the moment you find any useful information. The Hellions already have their orders. You are not to interfere, only observe. Once you know the situation you will return here without hesitation. You will speak to no one but myself pertaining this matter.'' With a swift motion his hand raised. Thumb and forefinger clasping together and tugging as if plucking an idea from the air itself. I felt the breath rush out of me without a sound, as I struggled to regain my wind my voice would n't even rise for a'Yes Sir.' He had taken my voice from me with the ease at which one would create the stroke of a pen. `` Now, go. Welcome our guests at the gate. And do n't get in their way.'' He shooed me away with one massive hand, turning to a pile of reports that had arrived from the upper floors. The walk to the upper gates might have well been a death march. The stares from my peers burning into my back as I made my way to the meeting point. Calling in a group of Hellions meant this was serious. It made me highly doubt that the courier sent before me had a choice to come back at all. The cold finally seemed to settle into my bones as my own dread grew with each step. </s>

[ TT ] The Kingdom is falling apart . Monsters roam the hinterlands , the outlying villages are in revolt , bandits and hedge mages hold the roads , and the dead are restless . The Heir Apparent visits their father , the once-legendary hero who became king , on his deathbed to demand an explanation .

`` Father, what have you done?'' The old man lay half asleep on the royal bed. He turned toward his son, heir to the throne and gave a small smile. `` It's always been like this.'' `` The wild men are in open rebellion! The hunter's guild is falling apart due to lack of support! Beasts slay our people wherever they go! The bandits you once kept under check now run rampant! The forbidden arts have been rediscovered! The magic academy has declared independence from the kingdom! I've found three of my cousins plotting to take the throne for themselves!'' `` Yes, as it always has been.'' `` Since when? What happened to the era of peace and prosperity I grew up in? My brothers and sisters, once happy are now scattered across the kingdom working their hardest despite this to keep peace. And you're here sleeping the day away!'' `` I'm dying, boy. This land has always had rebellions and chaos. I'd united the kingdom for the first time in centuries, and rightly been hailed a hero. But with my ailing health I ca n't protect this peace anymore. Now it falls to you boy. Take up my sword, gather those loyal to the kingdom and reunite this land.'' `` Since when does an heir need to conquer his own kingdom?'' `` A prince does n't, but a hero fights evil, and you've got a lot of evil to deal with. Starting with the one before you. I may be in failing health, but even the most neglectful king would n't have given you the challenge you deserve.'' `` Father?'' `` I drained money from the hunter's guild and road patrols to allow the brigands and beasts to return. I implemented laws treating the barbarians and magi as an underclass to inspire rebellion. I forbid necromancy and ensured the kingdom would not be prepared for its return. I have done all this to ensure your kingdom is your own, united by your own hand and not simply given to you.'' `` You've gone mad!'' `` I've always been mad, only a madman would try to unite this land. The question it whether you're mad enough to do it again. But first, put me out of my misery boy. I would rather die to a blade than to this wretched illness.'' The prince took the enchanted sword from the wall, and looked at the figure prone in the bed. The man had indirectly destroyed his entire world, taken all that was good from his life save for the wealth of the capital city, and isolated him from all the family he knew. But he was still his father. The prince could n't bring himself to slay the crazy old man, even at his own request. He set out to reunite the kingdom, whether it wanted to be whole or not.

<s>[INST] [ TT ] The Kingdom is falling apart . Monsters roam the hinterlands , the outlying villages are in revolt , bandits and hedge mages hold the roads , and the dead are restless . The Heir Apparent visits their father , the once-legendary hero who became king , on his deathbed to demand an explanation . [/INST] `` Father, what have you done?'' The old man lay half asleep on the royal bed. He turned toward his son, heir to the throne and gave a small smile. `` It's always been like this.'' `` The wild men are in open rebellion! The hunter's guild is falling apart due to lack of support! Beasts slay our people wherever they go! The bandits you once kept under check now run rampant! The forbidden arts have been rediscovered! The magic academy has declared independence from the kingdom! I've found three of my cousins plotting to take the throne for themselves!'' `` Yes, as it always has been.'' `` Since when? What happened to the era of peace and prosperity I grew up in? My brothers and sisters, once happy are now scattered across the kingdom working their hardest despite this to keep peace. And you're here sleeping the day away!'' `` I'm dying, boy. This land has always had rebellions and chaos. I'd united the kingdom for the first time in centuries, and rightly been hailed a hero. But with my ailing health I ca n't protect this peace anymore. Now it falls to you boy. Take up my sword, gather those loyal to the kingdom and reunite this land.'' `` Since when does an heir need to conquer his own kingdom?'' `` A prince does n't, but a hero fights evil, and you've got a lot of evil to deal with. Starting with the one before you. I may be in failing health, but even the most neglectful king would n't have given you the challenge you deserve.'' `` Father?'' `` I drained money from the hunter's guild and road patrols to allow the brigands and beasts to return. I implemented laws treating the barbarians and magi as an underclass to inspire rebellion. I forbid necromancy and ensured the kingdom would not be prepared for its return. I have done all this to ensure your kingdom is your own, united by your own hand and not simply given to you.'' `` You've gone mad!'' `` I've always been mad, only a madman would try to unite this land. The question it whether you're mad enough to do it again. But first, put me out of my misery boy. I would rather die to a blade than to this wretched illness.'' The prince took the enchanted sword from the wall, and looked at the figure prone in the bed. The man had indirectly destroyed his entire world, taken all that was good from his life save for the wealth of the capital city, and isolated him from all the family he knew. But he was still his father. The prince could n't bring himself to slay the crazy old man, even at his own request. He set out to reunite the kingdom, whether it wanted to be whole or not. </s>

[ WP ] write about your dog or cats point of view when they sit in your shorts while youre pooping

We get to play outside, we get to play outside! I love it outside. Truly, I do. I like it inside too. But outside everything smells so interesting! Inside is comforting. The smells are mostly familiar, I like that. And I like my roommate. Speak of the devil! Sometimes he likes to come outside with me. That means we get to play. Playing is great. Even if it just means running a bit. That's the ticket right there. Carefree abandon, it'll keep you young. Ok, I better slow down a little bit. Hmm, what's that? That is fuuunky, yo! Ohh, I like that. Wha- SQUUUUIRRL.... *'' Blue! Hey! Get back here! C'mere! `` * Huh? Oh, whoa! Ok. My apologies, I think I got a little carried away just then. I better go see my friend. That was fun though. *'' Good boy! `` * Heh, I love it when he rubs my head and ears while praising me. If you have n't experienced this yourself I highly recommend it. Quite lovely. But hot damn that's good! Really makes you feel great about things. That's another ticket right there. You have to appreciate the little things in your life. Your experiences will be much more rewarding if you do. OoO. Pardon me but I'm going to have to step away for a second. Ok, I have to find a good spot. Let's see here, yes... yes that's nice. But still not quite what I'm looking for. You see, when it comes to nature things can be very precise. When nature calls the least you can do is listen. That's what I'm doing now... Sniffing out the right spot. Preparation is key. Ah, there it is musty and just a little bit of spice. Let me just going to squat now and we'll get this show on the ro- Ugh, this is so awkward. C'mon, man. At least let me get on with things at my own pace. See, this is the one bad thing about my friend joining me outside. It still weirds me out when he watches. We've been together my entire life and it still.weirds.me.out. Sometimes I wonder about that guy. I do n't know if he's trolling me or what? Why do you have to watch? I do n't watch him during his private moments. I mean, yeah, I see a lot of things go down in our place. But let's face it, most of that is just perks of the job. A little something extra for being the best of best friends. A bit of entertainment as a reward. Ahhh, much better and now I'm feeling refreshed. Just let me, yup, there we go. See, after you've replied to nature it's always polite to kick up a little something over your offering. Just comes down to good manners, really. Anyways, back to him watching. I see a lot of things but I'll tell you one thing. I sure as hell do n't watch him shit. There's a line there damn it! A fella oughta have a bit of privacy when he's answering nature's call. *'' Gulgh! `` * That's strange, he just took off like a shot. What's with the rush to get inside?! He did n't even close the door! Most unusual. I'd best see what's going on. It could have been that damn squirrel. I know he's been eyeing our turf. He know's I'm going to have to come after him if he comes around here. Some people never learn. So what's... Curious... Shoe's kicked off pell-mell? Belt down on the ground down the hall... Shorts in the... -Wha- Well fuck me. It's time for some payback!

<s>[INST] write about your dog or cats point of view when they sit in your shorts while youre pooping [/INST] We get to play outside, we get to play outside! I love it outside. Truly, I do. I like it inside too. But outside everything smells so interesting! Inside is comforting. The smells are mostly familiar, I like that. And I like my roommate. Speak of the devil! Sometimes he likes to come outside with me. That means we get to play. Playing is great. Even if it just means running a bit. That's the ticket right there. Carefree abandon, it'll keep you young. Ok, I better slow down a little bit. Hmm, what's that? That is fuuunky, yo! Ohh, I like that. Wha- SQUUUUIRRL.... *'' Blue! Hey! Get back here! C'mere! `` * Huh? Oh, whoa! Ok. My apologies, I think I got a little carried away just then. I better go see my friend. That was fun though. *'' Good boy! `` * Heh, I love it when he rubs my head and ears while praising me. If you have n't experienced this yourself I highly recommend it. Quite lovely. But hot damn that's good! Really makes you feel great about things. That's another ticket right there. You have to appreciate the little things in your life. Your experiences will be much more rewarding if you do. OoO. Pardon me but I'm going to have to step away for a second. Ok, I have to find a good spot. Let's see here, yes... yes that's nice. But still not quite what I'm looking for. You see, when it comes to nature things can be very precise. When nature calls the least you can do is listen. That's what I'm doing now... Sniffing out the right spot. Preparation is key. Ah, there it is musty and just a little bit of spice. Let me just going to squat now and we'll get this show on the ro- Ugh, this is so awkward. C'mon, man. At least let me get on with things at my own pace. See, this is the one bad thing about my friend joining me outside. It still weirds me out when he watches. We've been together my entire life and it still.weirds.me.out. Sometimes I wonder about that guy. I do n't know if he's trolling me or what? Why do you have to watch? I do n't watch him during his private moments. I mean, yeah, I see a lot of things go down in our place. But let's face it, most of that is just perks of the job. A little something extra for being the best of best friends. A bit of entertainment as a reward. Ahhh, much better and now I'm feeling refreshed. Just let me, yup, there we go. See, after you've replied to nature it's always polite to kick up a little something over your offering. Just comes down to good manners, really. Anyways, back to him watching. I see a lot of things but I'll tell you one thing. I sure as hell do n't watch him shit. There's a line there damn it! A fella oughta have a bit of privacy when he's answering nature's call. *'' Gulgh! `` * That's strange, he just took off like a shot. What's with the rush to get inside?! He did n't even close the door! Most unusual. I'd best see what's going on. It could have been that damn squirrel. I know he's been eyeing our turf. He know's I'm going to have to come after him if he comes around here. Some people never learn. So what's... Curious... Shoe's kicked off pell-mell? Belt down on the ground down the hall... Shorts in the... -Wha- Well fuck me. It's time for some payback! </s>

[ WP ] Describe yourself the way an author would in a novel

She accomplishes her morning routine with the hopes that what she wears will influence her to be the confident girl she wants to be. She brushed her brown, highlight streaked hair, then twisted it into some type of braid the night before. Her hair is one of her most cherished attributes. She only feels right when it looks right. It's long with slight layers, all of her highlights strategically placed under her natural dark brown hair, so that when she incorporates it into a braid everyone will admire the pop of natural color. It truly shines after she takes out the braid, her side bangs becoming a part of her new delicate waves in her mane. She feels new, vibrant, flirtatious even. She then continues to paint her face with foundation that she swears enhances her complexion, never covers it. Concealer is her best friend. In one sweep of a finger, she finds that she can wipe away all the evidence of trauma from the restless sleep before. She is most proud of the way she can extend her long eyelashes and curl them. She's always had large, light brown eyes, but found them to be rather dull until she adds mascara. Then she -- and everyone -- can see her transformation. Her face glows, her eyes bright. Obviously her best facial aspect. There's not much to do about the slight bump in her nose -- she also swears that it came to be because she dove into the kiddie pool and scraped it when she was younger -- but she finds a way to love it. The same ca n't be said about her lips. Her bottom lip is fuller than the top, she feels uncomfortable about the lack of symmetry. To top it all off her smile is suffocated by metal. She yearns to be like the celebrities with full, gorgeous, kissable lips, but knows such wishes could never be granted. Of course plastic surgery would help, but she could never -- would never -- surgically alter her face in any way. For she knows that the face she was given by God is hers and only hers. There is no other face like it. Sure, she would love to swap it out with another from time to time. But the one that she has now will forever be hers and nobody else's.

<s>[INST] Describe yourself the way an author would in a novel [/INST] She accomplishes her morning routine with the hopes that what she wears will influence her to be the confident girl she wants to be. She brushed her brown, highlight streaked hair, then twisted it into some type of braid the night before. Her hair is one of her most cherished attributes. She only feels right when it looks right. It's long with slight layers, all of her highlights strategically placed under her natural dark brown hair, so that when she incorporates it into a braid everyone will admire the pop of natural color. It truly shines after she takes out the braid, her side bangs becoming a part of her new delicate waves in her mane. She feels new, vibrant, flirtatious even. She then continues to paint her face with foundation that she swears enhances her complexion, never covers it. Concealer is her best friend. In one sweep of a finger, she finds that she can wipe away all the evidence of trauma from the restless sleep before. She is most proud of the way she can extend her long eyelashes and curl them. She's always had large, light brown eyes, but found them to be rather dull until she adds mascara. Then she -- and everyone -- can see her transformation. Her face glows, her eyes bright. Obviously her best facial aspect. There's not much to do about the slight bump in her nose -- she also swears that it came to be because she dove into the kiddie pool and scraped it when she was younger -- but she finds a way to love it. The same ca n't be said about her lips. Her bottom lip is fuller than the top, she feels uncomfortable about the lack of symmetry. To top it all off her smile is suffocated by metal. She yearns to be like the celebrities with full, gorgeous, kissable lips, but knows such wishes could never be granted. Of course plastic surgery would help, but she could never -- would never -- surgically alter her face in any way. For she knows that the face she was given by God is hers and only hers. There is no other face like it. Sure, she would love to swap it out with another from time to time. But the one that she has now will forever be hers and nobody else's. </s>

[ WP ] What if tattoos just randomly appeared on our skin at key points in our lives and we had to figure out what they meant for ourselves .

First story on this sub, criticism would be appreciated! I'm fairly certain that you can guess where I was when I got the inspiration for this story. I looked around nervously as I sat in the waiting room, oddly similar to that of your standard doctors office. I looked around the room at the other faces, the other people coming to see the priests, to have their tattoos read for them. Oftentimes, they were easy to decipher, other times... well... that's what I was here for. `` Alastar Furlan'' I heard called from beyond the dark wooden door. A man with a dotted circular pattern spiraling out from the center of his face stood up and walked over to the door. The rest of us continued waiting, looking at each other's tattoos, trying to guess their past. I looked to my left, at a bald woman. A pattern of thickly intertwined roots covered her head instead of hair. I can only wonder what that was there for. To my right sat another woman with a full sleeve that made her arm look mechanical, she gave a shy smile when she saw me looking. I smiled back. I'd do anything to brighten up this place. `` Ulrik Paternoster'' I heard this time. Everybody looked around to see who was next. I slowly got out of my seat and walked to the door, pausing before opening it and walking through. Never having been in here before, I surveyed the new room before making my way to the wooden chair in the center. One of the priests walked up from my right side and said `` Show me, my son'' I slowly pulled up my pant legs one at a time to reveal the large and bright red marks on the top of my thighs. The priest sighed, and slowly shook his head. `` What is it?'' I asked. `` You've been browsing reddit of the toilet, have n't you.''

<s>[INST] What if tattoos just randomly appeared on our skin at key points in our lives and we had to figure out what they meant for ourselves . [/INST] First story on this sub, criticism would be appreciated! I'm fairly certain that you can guess where I was when I got the inspiration for this story. I looked around nervously as I sat in the waiting room, oddly similar to that of your standard doctors office. I looked around the room at the other faces, the other people coming to see the priests, to have their tattoos read for them. Oftentimes, they were easy to decipher, other times... well... that's what I was here for. `` Alastar Furlan'' I heard called from beyond the dark wooden door. A man with a dotted circular pattern spiraling out from the center of his face stood up and walked over to the door. The rest of us continued waiting, looking at each other's tattoos, trying to guess their past. I looked to my left, at a bald woman. A pattern of thickly intertwined roots covered her head instead of hair. I can only wonder what that was there for. To my right sat another woman with a full sleeve that made her arm look mechanical, she gave a shy smile when she saw me looking. I smiled back. I'd do anything to brighten up this place. `` Ulrik Paternoster'' I heard this time. Everybody looked around to see who was next. I slowly got out of my seat and walked to the door, pausing before opening it and walking through. Never having been in here before, I surveyed the new room before making my way to the wooden chair in the center. One of the priests walked up from my right side and said `` Show me, my son'' I slowly pulled up my pant legs one at a time to reveal the large and bright red marks on the top of my thighs. The priest sighed, and slowly shook his head. `` What is it?'' I asked. `` You've been browsing reddit of the toilet, have n't you.'' </s>

[ WP ] A strong telekinetic finds themselves haunted by mischievous poltergeists .

Every moment was a struggle. The chair stood there, only the slightest motion was visible. The dusty, wooden floor creaked as the chair stuttered about its surface. I try to keep it there, but the ringing. It was... unbearable. It was like the most intense cry ever uttered. If I listened close enough I could hear them chant, they cried for me to give up, to let my mind relax. But, I ca n't. The chair is all I have. Occasionally they lift the floorboards, or pull at my skin, but they know that the chair is all that matters too. So I sit, and I concentrate. My wrinkly thin skin stuck to my bones, my head shook and my jaw sits unhinged. My breath has stopped but they wo n't let me die. I used to think I could live a life. I remember the first day I heard them. The tonal ring in my ear used to be nothing. Just a sound that filled the silence at a dull pace. But one day, in the smallest little inkling of a voice, I heard them. Their voice is fire and it burns hotter than the flames of Hell. The sound of the person you love most being disemboweled and burned is but an angel's harmony compared to it. Life is for the alive, and I am not alive. I am a prison, and my prisoners want me to break. I am the wall standing between you and Hell. Pray that I stand.

<s>[INST] A strong telekinetic finds themselves haunted by mischievous poltergeists . [/INST] Every moment was a struggle. The chair stood there, only the slightest motion was visible. The dusty, wooden floor creaked as the chair stuttered about its surface. I try to keep it there, but the ringing. It was... unbearable. It was like the most intense cry ever uttered. If I listened close enough I could hear them chant, they cried for me to give up, to let my mind relax. But, I ca n't. The chair is all I have. Occasionally they lift the floorboards, or pull at my skin, but they know that the chair is all that matters too. So I sit, and I concentrate. My wrinkly thin skin stuck to my bones, my head shook and my jaw sits unhinged. My breath has stopped but they wo n't let me die. I used to think I could live a life. I remember the first day I heard them. The tonal ring in my ear used to be nothing. Just a sound that filled the silence at a dull pace. But one day, in the smallest little inkling of a voice, I heard them. Their voice is fire and it burns hotter than the flames of Hell. The sound of the person you love most being disemboweled and burned is but an angel's harmony compared to it. Life is for the alive, and I am not alive. I am a prison, and my prisoners want me to break. I am the wall standing between you and Hell. Pray that I stand. </s>

[ WP ] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized , to their horror , that humans had superior technology in all things , except inter-planetary spaceflight .

**Rough Translation** So these huMans have not even traveled to the next M Class planet in their solar systems. They Sent machines to 3 of these worlds, and sent machines, and a colorful cloth ( how peculiar, It must be for some ritual ) to their only natural satellite, they call it, Moon. Supreme Leader G-liol'Dega In Glory has sent us Unit0912 to invade and conquer Solar System 004008198. Only 1 planet was inhabited with intelligent life that `` was 0.0021985634 tleol ( percent or per million ) chance of resistance. They did not just resist, but they destroyed us. Supreme Leader G-liol'Dega In All His Glory and Wisdom, has failed us. They are murderous! They smelled the burning flesh of Unit0983, their eyes widened, noses snarled from the smell of the burning flesh of my soldiers. They ambushed them, causing death with their shooting steal sticks. Once they made sure all were dead. They took the bodies and feasted on them. The ships cameras recorded their barbarism on TAPE 321275001, OBSCENE, `` Fall of Unit0983. They ate the warriors and their families. They stripped them of their ornaments, rank, and clothing. Butchered, cutting, and taking out some of the internal organs. Our liver can cause them sickness. Then they roast their body parts over fires. They celebrate. they wear clothe armor OUr needlers easily pieced their armor and their skin, it pierces and burns away at their flesh, yet they kept on coming. We would just fire, they would hide in the rubble and shoot at us with their energy swords, so loud so ***CLUCKING LOUD*** The ships in orbit have bombed and vaporized most of the human's hives and their populations. but they keep coming at us. They Kill us then, they eat us. They have hijacked and taken over at least 12 of the colony ships. Slaughtering and feasting on the Men, Women, and children. They have feasted upon 7 of my children. 6 of the commandeered ships `` Kama Ka zeed'' into 6 other ships, destroying all 12. WE have only 3 colony ships left. I became the highest in command, G'ghyloy, after my commanding officers? were murdered. I have ordered a full retreat. The Supreme Ruler, will have me, my wife, and 12 of my children executed. I accept the consequences. It is a failed campaign, I have to get the last 3 ships home, we are out of bombs. I will suggest we quarantine EARTH, Planet 000121344i. Never return to this solar system again. We will take the 13.78 ( Alien, approx. 26.732 Earth-Sun Years ) year journey home. **End Transmission** ** Journal form John Archer Stevens, Man, American ** I was n't a soldier until The Invasion. I hardly knew how to pick up a gun and shoot before I joined the Army. Hell, they did n't even give us boot camp or basic training. There was n't any time. I was taught the basics. Fight. Kill. Defend. Keep my head down. Protect my Brothers and Sisters. Aim. Fire. Dead Alien, is a Good Alien. Ironic words. It is funny how Call of Duty, Gears of War, and Halo have trained Billions of us. They have taken out most of Japan, New York, California, London..... They use some sort of chemical weapon, I think, that kills us and burns our flesh. So we wear our full bio hazard suit, mask and all. Last report was they killed 2.7 billion humans, and 3.4 humans are displaced, with 4.2 Billion Soldiers. Yes, confirmed roughly 4.2 Billion humans: Women, Men, and Children fighting against the Aliens. It is hard to keep a 6 year old of the battlefield when all of Earth is the battlefield. America has led the fight, with having most of the guns and all. The President has been elected President of the World. Leaders of the world had a UN Conference, and the surviving and acting world leaders elected the President to be President of the World. we are hunters, we are fighters, we are warriors. I have been learning mandarin. Everybody who does n't speak English is learning English, while English speakers are learning Spanish, Japanese, and mandarin. I almost do n't believe it. Space traveling Aliens. You would think that these space traveling aliens would have energy shields and phasers like in Star Trek and bullet resistant armor. But Johny, John G. Bush, can snipe a red face 200 yards away, head shot. we have killed and eaten millions of them. We do n't know how many. One of the ships crash landed, many ships crash landed. The prisoner Grunts explained that they miscalculated jabdesta ( trajectory? ), and they crash landed, at first we humans thought it was a space satellite or plane crash, or even a meteorite. But then these Aliens, come out, clearly in need of help and injured. The smell. Oh my god the smell. It smelled so delicious. It smelled like a barbeque. We were starving, the Aliens took a scorched earth approach to Earth and burned all our crops. We were starving barely eating with MREs, stolen ration cubes ( tasted like ants ) from Alien ships, and little Earth food that we could scavenge. We saw them, smelling the sweet sweet barbeque. Few gun shots and grenades, and they were dead. Hunted. We took their bodies and had ourselves a feast. Sharing our cube rations and cooked Aliens with thousands of other people. After the First Hunt we found an appetite for war. They tasted so good. Like a venison steak with bacon. The Aliens seem to be some sort of mammal at least they cooked like a cow, pig, deer, and goat. We captured some Grunts. While we were guarding them we were smoking a joint. They asked, `` Wha iz tha?'' `` This. This is a joint, Marijuana.'' `` JoY'nt'' Then they seemed to be pretending to smoking a cigarette `` JoY'nt, we ca trY?'' I look at Charlie. What the Hell. I pass the little guy my joint. The first one held it in its fingers, took a puff, exhaled. He had the look of `` this is good shit''. Passed the joint to the next Grunt. Waited. Same look. When all four tried it. they all started talking fast in their alien tongue. Sarah got some of it or at least the gist of it. `` Wow. Wow. wow. something about blue... something something. HuMans. something. I think happy. Me, Charlie, and Sarah, all look at each other. Bingo. We got a break though. Turns out if you get them stoned, they do n't have to smoke a lot to get stoned, they turn into Chatty Cathys. Give a Grunt a joint, and in two days he will tell you all that he knows. We found out a whole lot. Most of it can be read in my field reports. Their planet. they are slaves. They are an empire. They did n't understand what'illegal'' meant. We were like, `` against the law'', we explained that weed was illegal, ( If the pre-Invasion laws are still enforced ) and that blew their mind. They did n't understand the concept of free will or doing what you want to do. They seem to be breed as slave soldiers, `` Grunts''. Quite similar to the Microsoft Xbox Halo video game franchise mythos. We captured some more Grunts, gave them each a joint, and convinced them and the other Grunts to help us steal and pilot a ship. On one of the crashed ships they showed us the controls and commands. The funny things about these buggers is that they can speak English good. they sound like a china man learning English. But they can speak English as well as some the humans learning English. We stole a `` colony ship'' orbiting Earth. Earth is so beautiful. I now know what all those astronauts were going on about, how awesome the Earth is... Even with the destruction of most of the Land and the cities. The Grunts say that the ship has the technology to make Earth grow corn, and other crops again. We took control of the colony ship. I think they are scared of us. I see the fear in their eyes, the squeals of their children. We killed all the Alien men, the stoned Grunts found their brothers and sisters, and all the Grunts of the ship. They agreed to work for us or with us. We freed them, I guess. We have captured 18 of their 21 ships. Charlie and my brother Patrick are going on suicide missions, with some of the stoned Grunts. I love them. My brother is 16, still a boy, he is a Man because of War. Charlie is 20, he is from Vietnam. Those stoned Grunts, I hated Grunts before, but man `` You give a grunt a joint, he becomes your best friend.'' Victorious. 6 of the stolen ships kamikazeed into 6 other colony ships bringing them down like the Twin Towers. The debris and wreckage of the ships hover around Earth outside of the Moon's orbit. The wreckage *should* stay their until we clean it up. We've lost 546 good soldiers and 132 stoned Grunts. May they Rest In Peace. Patrick and Charlie were KIA. The Aliens left. The Stoned Grunts, say it will be 5.32 until they are in contact with the edge of their Empire on an outpost colony, and 26.732 to get back to their Emperor's Planet. A Message takes just as long as Warp travel. The stoned Grunts says we have at least 53.464 years before we have to worry about seeing the Aliens again. Sarah is pregnant. I am so happy! I think I am going to marry that girl.... The Aliens have left. Much of earth was destroyed, but we have gained unity and Warp technology. ** End Journal Entry ** The End

<s>[INST] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized , to their horror , that humans had superior technology in all things , except inter-planetary spaceflight . [/INST] **Rough Translation** So these huMans have not even traveled to the next M Class planet in their solar systems. They Sent machines to 3 of these worlds, and sent machines, and a colorful cloth ( how peculiar, It must be for some ritual ) to their only natural satellite, they call it, Moon. Supreme Leader G-liol'Dega In Glory has sent us Unit0912 to invade and conquer Solar System 004008198. Only 1 planet was inhabited with intelligent life that `` was 0.0021985634 tleol ( percent or per million ) chance of resistance. They did not just resist, but they destroyed us. Supreme Leader G-liol'Dega In All His Glory and Wisdom, has failed us. They are murderous! They smelled the burning flesh of Unit0983, their eyes widened, noses snarled from the smell of the burning flesh of my soldiers. They ambushed them, causing death with their shooting steal sticks. Once they made sure all were dead. They took the bodies and feasted on them. The ships cameras recorded their barbarism on TAPE 321275001, OBSCENE, `` Fall of Unit0983. They ate the warriors and their families. They stripped them of their ornaments, rank, and clothing. Butchered, cutting, and taking out some of the internal organs. Our liver can cause them sickness. Then they roast their body parts over fires. They celebrate. they wear clothe armor OUr needlers easily pieced their armor and their skin, it pierces and burns away at their flesh, yet they kept on coming. We would just fire, they would hide in the rubble and shoot at us with their energy swords, so loud so ***CLUCKING LOUD*** The ships in orbit have bombed and vaporized most of the human's hives and their populations. but they keep coming at us. They Kill us then, they eat us. They have hijacked and taken over at least 12 of the colony ships. Slaughtering and feasting on the Men, Women, and children. They have feasted upon 7 of my children. 6 of the commandeered ships `` Kama Ka zeed'' into 6 other ships, destroying all 12. WE have only 3 colony ships left. I became the highest in command, G'ghyloy, after my commanding officers? were murdered. I have ordered a full retreat. The Supreme Ruler, will have me, my wife, and 12 of my children executed. I accept the consequences. It is a failed campaign, I have to get the last 3 ships home, we are out of bombs. I will suggest we quarantine EARTH, Planet 000121344i. Never return to this solar system again. We will take the 13.78 ( Alien, approx. 26.732 Earth-Sun Years ) year journey home. **End Transmission** ** Journal form John Archer Stevens, Man, American ** I was n't a soldier until The Invasion. I hardly knew how to pick up a gun and shoot before I joined the Army. Hell, they did n't even give us boot camp or basic training. There was n't any time. I was taught the basics. Fight. Kill. Defend. Keep my head down. Protect my Brothers and Sisters. Aim. Fire. Dead Alien, is a Good Alien. Ironic words. It is funny how Call of Duty, Gears of War, and Halo have trained Billions of us. They have taken out most of Japan, New York, California, London..... They use some sort of chemical weapon, I think, that kills us and burns our flesh. So we wear our full bio hazard suit, mask and all. Last report was they killed 2.7 billion humans, and 3.4 humans are displaced, with 4.2 Billion Soldiers. Yes, confirmed roughly 4.2 Billion humans: Women, Men, and Children fighting against the Aliens. It is hard to keep a 6 year old of the battlefield when all of Earth is the battlefield. America has led the fight, with having most of the guns and all. The President has been elected President of the World. Leaders of the world had a UN Conference, and the surviving and acting world leaders elected the President to be President of the World. we are hunters, we are fighters, we are warriors. I have been learning mandarin. Everybody who does n't speak English is learning English, while English speakers are learning Spanish, Japanese, and mandarin. I almost do n't believe it. Space traveling Aliens. You would think that these space traveling aliens would have energy shields and phasers like in Star Trek and bullet resistant armor. But Johny, John G. Bush, can snipe a red face 200 yards away, head shot. we have killed and eaten millions of them. We do n't know how many. One of the ships crash landed, many ships crash landed. The prisoner Grunts explained that they miscalculated jabdesta ( trajectory? ), and they crash landed, at first we humans thought it was a space satellite or plane crash, or even a meteorite. But then these Aliens, come out, clearly in need of help and injured. The smell. Oh my god the smell. It smelled so delicious. It smelled like a barbeque. We were starving, the Aliens took a scorched earth approach to Earth and burned all our crops. We were starving barely eating with MREs, stolen ration cubes ( tasted like ants ) from Alien ships, and little Earth food that we could scavenge. We saw them, smelling the sweet sweet barbeque. Few gun shots and grenades, and they were dead. Hunted. We took their bodies and had ourselves a feast. Sharing our cube rations and cooked Aliens with thousands of other people. After the First Hunt we found an appetite for war. They tasted so good. Like a venison steak with bacon. The Aliens seem to be some sort of mammal at least they cooked like a cow, pig, deer, and goat. We captured some Grunts. While we were guarding them we were smoking a joint. They asked, `` Wha iz tha?'' `` This. This is a joint, Marijuana.'' `` JoY'nt'' Then they seemed to be pretending to smoking a cigarette `` JoY'nt, we ca trY?'' I look at Charlie. What the Hell. I pass the little guy my joint. The first one held it in its fingers, took a puff, exhaled. He had the look of `` this is good shit''. Passed the joint to the next Grunt. Waited. Same look. When all four tried it. they all started talking fast in their alien tongue. Sarah got some of it or at least the gist of it. `` Wow. Wow. wow. something about blue... something something. HuMans. something. I think happy. Me, Charlie, and Sarah, all look at each other. Bingo. We got a break though. Turns out if you get them stoned, they do n't have to smoke a lot to get stoned, they turn into Chatty Cathys. Give a Grunt a joint, and in two days he will tell you all that he knows. We found out a whole lot. Most of it can be read in my field reports. Their planet. they are slaves. They are an empire. They did n't understand what'illegal'' meant. We were like, `` against the law'', we explained that weed was illegal, ( If the pre-Invasion laws are still enforced ) and that blew their mind. They did n't understand the concept of free will or doing what you want to do. They seem to be breed as slave soldiers, `` Grunts''. Quite similar to the Microsoft Xbox Halo video game franchise mythos. We captured some more Grunts, gave them each a joint, and convinced them and the other Grunts to help us steal and pilot a ship. On one of the crashed ships they showed us the controls and commands. The funny things about these buggers is that they can speak English good. they sound like a china man learning English. But they can speak English as well as some the humans learning English. We stole a `` colony ship'' orbiting Earth. Earth is so beautiful. I now know what all those astronauts were going on about, how awesome the Earth is... Even with the destruction of most of the Land and the cities. The Grunts say that the ship has the technology to make Earth grow corn, and other crops again. We took control of the colony ship. I think they are scared of us. I see the fear in their eyes, the squeals of their children. We killed all the Alien men, the stoned Grunts found their brothers and sisters, and all the Grunts of the ship. They agreed to work for us or with us. We freed them, I guess. We have captured 18 of their 21 ships. Charlie and my brother Patrick are going on suicide missions, with some of the stoned Grunts. I love them. My brother is 16, still a boy, he is a Man because of War. Charlie is 20, he is from Vietnam. Those stoned Grunts, I hated Grunts before, but man `` You give a grunt a joint, he becomes your best friend.'' Victorious. 6 of the stolen ships kamikazeed into 6 other colony ships bringing them down like the Twin Towers. The debris and wreckage of the ships hover around Earth outside of the Moon's orbit. The wreckage *should* stay their until we clean it up. We've lost 546 good soldiers and 132 stoned Grunts. May they Rest In Peace. Patrick and Charlie were KIA. The Aliens left. The Stoned Grunts, say it will be 5.32 until they are in contact with the edge of their Empire on an outpost colony, and 26.732 to get back to their Emperor's Planet. A Message takes just as long as Warp travel. The stoned Grunts says we have at least 53.464 years before we have to worry about seeing the Aliens again. Sarah is pregnant. I am so happy! I think I am going to marry that girl.... The Aliens have left. Much of earth was destroyed, but we have gained unity and Warp technology. ** End Journal Entry ** The End </s>

[ WP ] Senses can be bought and sold for insane amounts of money . You are poor , and are down to only one sense .

It was a difficult decision, which sense to retain. Having lived with both hearing and sight for almost two years, I'd been well-off enough to savour the notes of Bach and The Beatles, to rewatch Amadeus and The Matrix. Before that I did n't really appreciate food the way I long for it now. Between a lack of funds and the unfulfilling experience, eating has just been another reminder; I've lost a few dozen pounds, but I ca n't feel it anymore. And romance - I can say from personal experience that those'other' senses do matter. The connection was still there, but the desire kept slipping away as the totality of experiencing her crumbled bit by bit. Eventually it was hard to remember her soft, lilac scent, and the taste of the kitchen experiments she'd laughingly convinced me to try. And once touch went, it was just too mechanical - I tried, for her sake - made sure she kept that sense, longer than we should have, but... It's a weird feeling: wanting to, but receiving no satisfaction in it. By the time things started getting repossessed, we knew. She moved back with her parents, I collapsed onto a brothers' couch. We still keep in touch, but so much of what we were... As much as we like to think, we're not enlightened emotional beings: we're rooted to our biology. And we were losing our sense of self, one dollar at a time. The loss of a sense - excuse me, `` the consenting sale of a valued equity'' - did bring in money, of course. But it's a windfall, deliberately avoiding the crux of the problem: most people are not good with money - it's just too easy to spend. And sudden riches, after months or years of constant scrimping, with personalized advertising, a façade of optimism, and a pervasive consumerist mindset... I do n't mean to sound the victim, but debt is just so damn easy to drown in now. They say you get 90 % of your information from sight - I do n't know, it's probably some pop-science number pulled out of a hat. But I suppose, then I'd be cutting out the worst of my reality - maybe just escape to a Baroque soundscape, I do n't know. I stared, utterly fixed on the document before me. It was getting blurry as my eyes welled up. I'll remember that sight for a long time, I know that much. Deliberately, my mind gaping at the consequence, I signed my name. `` You are aware of our policy, sir; what would you like to see before we begin?'' I looked up at the man before me. He would be unremarkable if you were to come across him on the street, but that's just how good the augments had gotten. No doubt his vision was beyond 20/20 and extended to whatever parts of the electromagnetic spectrum caught his fancy. His skin was smooth too, certainly beyond his years - probably had the latest dermal wrap, with the added benefit of being able to control the intensity of any tactile input. Great for sex, I hear. The only reason I could even tell he had it is he looked 55 last time I was here. He gave a thin-lipped smile ( the augments did n't help there ). `` I need a videophone, and a few minutes.'' Phone in hand, I was suddenly alone. Desperately, noxious cloud of terror in my gut, alone. I tried to compose myself, failing. Dialed. `` Ellie... I'm sorry...''

<s>[INST] Senses can be bought and sold for insane amounts of money . You are poor , and are down to only one sense . [/INST] It was a difficult decision, which sense to retain. Having lived with both hearing and sight for almost two years, I'd been well-off enough to savour the notes of Bach and The Beatles, to rewatch Amadeus and The Matrix. Before that I did n't really appreciate food the way I long for it now. Between a lack of funds and the unfulfilling experience, eating has just been another reminder; I've lost a few dozen pounds, but I ca n't feel it anymore. And romance - I can say from personal experience that those'other' senses do matter. The connection was still there, but the desire kept slipping away as the totality of experiencing her crumbled bit by bit. Eventually it was hard to remember her soft, lilac scent, and the taste of the kitchen experiments she'd laughingly convinced me to try. And once touch went, it was just too mechanical - I tried, for her sake - made sure she kept that sense, longer than we should have, but... It's a weird feeling: wanting to, but receiving no satisfaction in it. By the time things started getting repossessed, we knew. She moved back with her parents, I collapsed onto a brothers' couch. We still keep in touch, but so much of what we were... As much as we like to think, we're not enlightened emotional beings: we're rooted to our biology. And we were losing our sense of self, one dollar at a time. The loss of a sense - excuse me, `` the consenting sale of a valued equity'' - did bring in money, of course. But it's a windfall, deliberately avoiding the crux of the problem: most people are not good with money - it's just too easy to spend. And sudden riches, after months or years of constant scrimping, with personalized advertising, a façade of optimism, and a pervasive consumerist mindset... I do n't mean to sound the victim, but debt is just so damn easy to drown in now. They say you get 90 % of your information from sight - I do n't know, it's probably some pop-science number pulled out of a hat. But I suppose, then I'd be cutting out the worst of my reality - maybe just escape to a Baroque soundscape, I do n't know. I stared, utterly fixed on the document before me. It was getting blurry as my eyes welled up. I'll remember that sight for a long time, I know that much. Deliberately, my mind gaping at the consequence, I signed my name. `` You are aware of our policy, sir; what would you like to see before we begin?'' I looked up at the man before me. He would be unremarkable if you were to come across him on the street, but that's just how good the augments had gotten. No doubt his vision was beyond 20/20 and extended to whatever parts of the electromagnetic spectrum caught his fancy. His skin was smooth too, certainly beyond his years - probably had the latest dermal wrap, with the added benefit of being able to control the intensity of any tactile input. Great for sex, I hear. The only reason I could even tell he had it is he looked 55 last time I was here. He gave a thin-lipped smile ( the augments did n't help there ). `` I need a videophone, and a few minutes.'' Phone in hand, I was suddenly alone. Desperately, noxious cloud of terror in my gut, alone. I tried to compose myself, failing. Dialed. `` Ellie... I'm sorry...'' </s>

[ EU ] The X-Men are now scraping the bottom of the barrel for a new mutant team . Create the back story for one of these mutants .

The wind blew through the fall leaves of the trees surrounding abraham j carver highschool, sherry blumpkin walked alone down the sidewalk in the cold autumn air. Cars darting by as she passed through the crowds of kids waiting to be picked up. There she was as it seemed just another ordinary kid by all appearances, this could not be further from the truth. What an awful day, today everything has changed, she had become an outcast in a matter of minutes, right when it all seemed so right the strangest event of Sherrie's life took place. It was 2pm free period and Duncan masserson the hottest boy in school slowly walked up to her, as cool as ice. She was hanging out with her friends dave Garcia and molly her neibor, duncan said'' hey want to ditch these losers and come be by girl''. Sherry felt so scared and excited she did not say anything. Duncan laughed, cooly, shaking his head and looking to the ceiling and then he said to no one in particular'' crazy chicks dude'' and then walked away to his lunch table. later samantha cawley had invited her to just hang with her and the others. Sherry was so happy, what a dream she thought now acceptance. she had always lived a lonely life as an only child and isolated by her parents, devout catholics who feared the secular world. The girls were all kissing boys under the bleachers and sherry had been invited, evidently Duncan Masserson the quarter back, wanted to make out with her. Sherry's heart was pounding and she was in disbeleif as she walked as in a dream with the cool girls to the feild. Duncan's cold blue eyes and peirced her almost with electricity. Sherry felt like jelly. The kids were all talking about the game last tuesday against Wilburry high. Duncan only stared at her and seemed disinterested in the others. A few minutes passed and then he siad'' hey take a hike dudes, I need some chill time with my babe'' Duncan moved right to her and pressed agianst hers, resting his hands lightly on her hips. She could feel the lean muscle of his body surrounding her. She looked down in fear, trembling with anxiety, he reached his hand down to her chin and pulled her face to meet his in a powerful kiss. He began pressing closer agianst her, she could feel the coiled muscle of his jest against hers as he lifted her up and pressed her against the concrete wall of the dugout now his hands had found his way into her shirt and he could feel his warm hands firmly cupping her young budding breasts. She felt a strange pressure in her abdomen. She tried really hard to hold it in'' not a poop now she thought''. Then it got worse. She lost control, out of nowhere a hot dog slid out of her butt with a wet smack. `` weird that's never happened'' she thought. Still holding with all her strength. Duncan did not notice. Then another shot out this time with procectile speed. Absorbed in his amours entanglement, duncan once again did not notice. Stumbling over it, he remarked `` nerds leaving hotdogs all over babe I will have to pulverize them'' All of a sudden the pressure became too much to bear, she let go lost control a machine gun like burst of hot dogs began shooting out of her she could not stop it. The Duncan yelled `` what the heck dude'' looking at her with a look of shock and revulsion she would never forget and retreating from the expanding pool of hotdogs on the floor. `` you're a freak'' He sneered as he ran towards the school. All day there were whispers in the halls, Sherry had sunk to an ultra social low and now her old friends would not hang out with her because she rejected them to hang with the cool kids. It seemed like it was all over now. They called her weenie bitch, and hot dog bozo. She could scarcely make it through the day. How could today have been so crazy. As she continued down the walk under the gray cold autumn sky, a black limo pulled up even beside her. A a man with curious sunglasses leaned out and said you are not a freak, come with us we can help you we know you're secret. `` NO'' yelled sherry as she ran panic-ing into the woods by the street. `` i know you sherry'' called the man, `` you are not alone''. she ran home running wordlessly past per parents in the kitchen leavign a trail of hot dogs behind her. `` what in the name of goodness are these young lady'' cried her father after her. She slammed the door and barricaded it with a dresser. She could here her parents yelling and pounding on the door. She sat and cried all night long as hot dogs leaked slowly from her butt hole. The feeling of utter hopelessness. to be continued

<s>[INST] [ EU ] The X-Men are now scraping the bottom of the barrel for a new mutant team . Create the back story for one of these mutants . [/INST] The wind blew through the fall leaves of the trees surrounding abraham j carver highschool, sherry blumpkin walked alone down the sidewalk in the cold autumn air. Cars darting by as she passed through the crowds of kids waiting to be picked up. There she was as it seemed just another ordinary kid by all appearances, this could not be further from the truth. What an awful day, today everything has changed, she had become an outcast in a matter of minutes, right when it all seemed so right the strangest event of Sherrie's life took place. It was 2pm free period and Duncan masserson the hottest boy in school slowly walked up to her, as cool as ice. She was hanging out with her friends dave Garcia and molly her neibor, duncan said'' hey want to ditch these losers and come be by girl''. Sherry felt so scared and excited she did not say anything. Duncan laughed, cooly, shaking his head and looking to the ceiling and then he said to no one in particular'' crazy chicks dude'' and then walked away to his lunch table. later samantha cawley had invited her to just hang with her and the others. Sherry was so happy, what a dream she thought now acceptance. she had always lived a lonely life as an only child and isolated by her parents, devout catholics who feared the secular world. The girls were all kissing boys under the bleachers and sherry had been invited, evidently Duncan Masserson the quarter back, wanted to make out with her. Sherry's heart was pounding and she was in disbeleif as she walked as in a dream with the cool girls to the feild. Duncan's cold blue eyes and peirced her almost with electricity. Sherry felt like jelly. The kids were all talking about the game last tuesday against Wilburry high. Duncan only stared at her and seemed disinterested in the others. A few minutes passed and then he siad'' hey take a hike dudes, I need some chill time with my babe'' Duncan moved right to her and pressed agianst hers, resting his hands lightly on her hips. She could feel the lean muscle of his body surrounding her. She looked down in fear, trembling with anxiety, he reached his hand down to her chin and pulled her face to meet his in a powerful kiss. He began pressing closer agianst her, she could feel the coiled muscle of his jest against hers as he lifted her up and pressed her against the concrete wall of the dugout now his hands had found his way into her shirt and he could feel his warm hands firmly cupping her young budding breasts. She felt a strange pressure in her abdomen. She tried really hard to hold it in'' not a poop now she thought''. Then it got worse. She lost control, out of nowhere a hot dog slid out of her butt with a wet smack. `` weird that's never happened'' she thought. Still holding with all her strength. Duncan did not notice. Then another shot out this time with procectile speed. Absorbed in his amours entanglement, duncan once again did not notice. Stumbling over it, he remarked `` nerds leaving hotdogs all over babe I will have to pulverize them'' All of a sudden the pressure became too much to bear, she let go lost control a machine gun like burst of hot dogs began shooting out of her she could not stop it. The Duncan yelled `` what the heck dude'' looking at her with a look of shock and revulsion she would never forget and retreating from the expanding pool of hotdogs on the floor. `` you're a freak'' He sneered as he ran towards the school. All day there were whispers in the halls, Sherry had sunk to an ultra social low and now her old friends would not hang out with her because she rejected them to hang with the cool kids. It seemed like it was all over now. They called her weenie bitch, and hot dog bozo. She could scarcely make it through the day. How could today have been so crazy. As she continued down the walk under the gray cold autumn sky, a black limo pulled up even beside her. A a man with curious sunglasses leaned out and said you are not a freak, come with us we can help you we know you're secret. `` NO'' yelled sherry as she ran panic-ing into the woods by the street. `` i know you sherry'' called the man, `` you are not alone''. she ran home running wordlessly past per parents in the kitchen leavign a trail of hot dogs behind her. `` what in the name of goodness are these young lady'' cried her father after her. She slammed the door and barricaded it with a dresser. She could here her parents yelling and pounding on the door. She sat and cried all night long as hot dogs leaked slowly from her butt hole. The feeling of utter hopelessness. to be continued </s>

[ WP ] People with superpowers find jobs that utilize their powers for mundane purposes .

`` SHIT HIT THE FAN.'' Jackeline is no ordinary person. Neither is she any ordinary superherowoman. Anything she says becomes true. That's right. Her words become fact. Surrounded by an audience, as Jackeline mutters these words, the stadium is in pandemonium, half of them screams of excitement, the other half screams of... let's just say they were n't amused. From the front of the audience, a large blonde man starts to levitate. The man is around his 40s, is one of the richest men in America, and is wearing a clean blue suit. On top of him, a fan is mounted on the ceiling. As he screams in horror, he starts moving inch by inch, head first into the spinning fan. Indeed, this man is the biggest piece of shit in the audience. This man is Donald Trump. `` Fucking Mexican!'' he screams out loud. This phrase solidified his shittiness. Not only was it racist, but it was untrue. Jackeline was asian. The fan hit Donald Trump; Jackeline was in trouble. As the audience around her flooded out the stadium, police and SWAT teams descended around her. She was cuffed, caught, and sentenced. After a day of interrogation, she had to make up for her crime: In order to make it up for the Republicans, Jackeline was commissioned to do a new job. She was to be Fox's new horoscope reader. Reporting on everyone's imagined fates through the new channel's TelePrompTer. On her first day of the job, she starts reading: `` Good Morning everyone!! Today is July 23, 2016, and we're reading the horoscope of Aries'' `` For all you Aries people out there, this is your horoscope: You are forming a new philosophy about your day to day life right now. It's no longer about doing your day to day thing -- it's about being more grounded and making the right, practical decisions in terms of your future'' `` What the fuck does that even mean'' thought Jackeline. Indeed, nothing about the world changed. The horoscope was so vague that it was barely a prediction. As Jackeline read every other line in the news, the world was relieved: Donald Trump might be shit, but Horoscopes are the biggest shits in the world. : )

<s>[INST] People with superpowers find jobs that utilize their powers for mundane purposes . [/INST] `` SHIT HIT THE FAN.'' Jackeline is no ordinary person. Neither is she any ordinary superherowoman. Anything she says becomes true. That's right. Her words become fact. Surrounded by an audience, as Jackeline mutters these words, the stadium is in pandemonium, half of them screams of excitement, the other half screams of... let's just say they were n't amused. From the front of the audience, a large blonde man starts to levitate. The man is around his 40s, is one of the richest men in America, and is wearing a clean blue suit. On top of him, a fan is mounted on the ceiling. As he screams in horror, he starts moving inch by inch, head first into the spinning fan. Indeed, this man is the biggest piece of shit in the audience. This man is Donald Trump. `` Fucking Mexican!'' he screams out loud. This phrase solidified his shittiness. Not only was it racist, but it was untrue. Jackeline was asian. The fan hit Donald Trump; Jackeline was in trouble. As the audience around her flooded out the stadium, police and SWAT teams descended around her. She was cuffed, caught, and sentenced. After a day of interrogation, she had to make up for her crime: In order to make it up for the Republicans, Jackeline was commissioned to do a new job. She was to be Fox's new horoscope reader. Reporting on everyone's imagined fates through the new channel's TelePrompTer. On her first day of the job, she starts reading: `` Good Morning everyone!! Today is July 23, 2016, and we're reading the horoscope of Aries'' `` For all you Aries people out there, this is your horoscope: You are forming a new philosophy about your day to day life right now. It's no longer about doing your day to day thing -- it's about being more grounded and making the right, practical decisions in terms of your future'' `` What the fuck does that even mean'' thought Jackeline. Indeed, nothing about the world changed. The horoscope was so vague that it was barely a prediction. As Jackeline read every other line in the news, the world was relieved: Donald Trump might be shit, but Horoscopes are the biggest shits in the world. : ) </s>

[ WP ] A disease has begun to spread in your town , friends and family have become infected with it . But this is no ordinary disease , this one turns everyone into salad !

`` He's bitten them. There is nothing we can do, he's going to turn.'' `` Shit. I thought I'd thrown out those carrots.'' `` Obviously you did n't.'' It had been three week since the outbreak first began. It had all happened so quickly. The health conscious were the first to go. It really was irony. After all of these years of zombie movies, comics, and television shows we finally had an outbreak. Funny thing is we were n't being bitten. We were doing the bitting. Now my brother Donnie was going to turn. He had always loved carrots. He was a little slow and he simply did not understand he was not supposed to eat the carrots. I ca n't blame him, it was my job to watch him. He was just hungry. I bit into a chocolate bar and tried to clear my head. This was n't my first loss. My girlfriend was gone. My freaking hot, health conscious girlfriend. She had turned early. She was now a salad. A green leafy salad. Over the past three weeks anyone that had bitten a vegetable had become a salad. It was some sort of virus. The best we could figure was that the virus fed off of sugars In the body through some kind of parasitic photosynthesis. Damn this was bad. Donnie's face had already sprouted leaves. He was turning and fast. `` It wo n't be long now.'' Said my buddy Dave. It was n't. Within three minutes Donnie was gone. A pile of fresh garden salad lay where he once stood. `` You got ta do it.'' Said Dave. `` I know. Just give me a minute.'' I looked at the pile of salad as a tear rolled down my cheek. `` I'll miss you Donnie'' I said, as I swept him into a dust pan. I pushed the salad into the garbage disposal. After turning on the water I flipped the switch. Whrrrrrrrrr....and Donnie was gone. `` Alright I'm heading to bed.'' Said Dave. `` You sure we do n't have anymore vegetables in this house?'' `` Yes.'' Dave headed off to bed. I opened the fridge. Deep in the back was a container labeled `` butter.'' I opened it. My fears were realized. There was a carrot missing. Other than that the salad was intact. Even as a salad she was beautiful. `` How the hell is that even possible?'' I thought. `` Do n't worry Samantha we'll find a cure.'' `` We'll find a cure.'' I sealed the lid and closed the door.

<s>[INST] A disease has begun to spread in your town , friends and family have become infected with it . But this is no ordinary disease , this one turns everyone into salad ! [/INST] `` He's bitten them. There is nothing we can do, he's going to turn.'' `` Shit. I thought I'd thrown out those carrots.'' `` Obviously you did n't.'' It had been three week since the outbreak first began. It had all happened so quickly. The health conscious were the first to go. It really was irony. After all of these years of zombie movies, comics, and television shows we finally had an outbreak. Funny thing is we were n't being bitten. We were doing the bitting. Now my brother Donnie was going to turn. He had always loved carrots. He was a little slow and he simply did not understand he was not supposed to eat the carrots. I ca n't blame him, it was my job to watch him. He was just hungry. I bit into a chocolate bar and tried to clear my head. This was n't my first loss. My girlfriend was gone. My freaking hot, health conscious girlfriend. She had turned early. She was now a salad. A green leafy salad. Over the past three weeks anyone that had bitten a vegetable had become a salad. It was some sort of virus. The best we could figure was that the virus fed off of sugars In the body through some kind of parasitic photosynthesis. Damn this was bad. Donnie's face had already sprouted leaves. He was turning and fast. `` It wo n't be long now.'' Said my buddy Dave. It was n't. Within three minutes Donnie was gone. A pile of fresh garden salad lay where he once stood. `` You got ta do it.'' Said Dave. `` I know. Just give me a minute.'' I looked at the pile of salad as a tear rolled down my cheek. `` I'll miss you Donnie'' I said, as I swept him into a dust pan. I pushed the salad into the garbage disposal. After turning on the water I flipped the switch. Whrrrrrrrrr....and Donnie was gone. `` Alright I'm heading to bed.'' Said Dave. `` You sure we do n't have anymore vegetables in this house?'' `` Yes.'' Dave headed off to bed. I opened the fridge. Deep in the back was a container labeled `` butter.'' I opened it. My fears were realized. There was a carrot missing. Other than that the salad was intact. Even as a salad she was beautiful. `` How the hell is that even possible?'' I thought. `` Do n't worry Samantha we'll find a cure.'' `` We'll find a cure.'' I sealed the lid and closed the door. </s>

[ WP ] You 're a interplanetary traveling salesman . You 've been assigned a new territory to develop which may lead to a promotion ! Some backwater planet called ... Dirt ? Soil ? ... argh ! Cheap universal translator ! ... Earth ! What the heck do these people need ?

Grangaflam. What an odd result of translation. They use an archaic means of language, my computer tells me. An old'latine' based language? `` I have fourth tons of this stuff to sell to these hominids, and I have to call it Grangaflam?!'' `` Affirmative captain.'' The computer retorts. I print out the summary sheet, as per usual, and glance at the translated form. It reads in ugly black and white print, which is the preferred medium of propaganda and advertisement here. `` Try grangaflam! The stimulant/relaxation method to get your race smarter and more compliant! The only way to get your race into the intergalactic alliance within the ( insert relative measurement of time for planet here )'' Oh lord. What a mess, this will never sell. I get appropriately dressed, and hail communication channels in order to talk to their leader. It fails. No wonder! They are n't even advanced enough to understand basic radio emissions. I'll just leave a weak version on an isolated sector, have them hooked on the weak stuff for a few hundred generationsuntil I can come back. Oh whoops. There's a native here. Translator, what is he saying? `` What is that brown thing in your hand?'' She replies. Er... `` Its coffee.'' I say, she translates. I do n't know why I called it that, just sounded better. `` Sir, you disobeyed the directive. You were intended to discuss the name properly translated.'' She barks at me `` It will be okay. It does n't matter what its called. They'll love it.''

<s>[INST] You 're a interplanetary traveling salesman . You 've been assigned a new territory to develop which may lead to a promotion ! Some backwater planet called ... Dirt ? Soil ? ... argh ! Cheap universal translator ! ... Earth ! What the heck do these people need ? [/INST] Grangaflam. What an odd result of translation. They use an archaic means of language, my computer tells me. An old'latine' based language? `` I have fourth tons of this stuff to sell to these hominids, and I have to call it Grangaflam?!'' `` Affirmative captain.'' The computer retorts. I print out the summary sheet, as per usual, and glance at the translated form. It reads in ugly black and white print, which is the preferred medium of propaganda and advertisement here. `` Try grangaflam! The stimulant/relaxation method to get your race smarter and more compliant! The only way to get your race into the intergalactic alliance within the ( insert relative measurement of time for planet here )'' Oh lord. What a mess, this will never sell. I get appropriately dressed, and hail communication channels in order to talk to their leader. It fails. No wonder! They are n't even advanced enough to understand basic radio emissions. I'll just leave a weak version on an isolated sector, have them hooked on the weak stuff for a few hundred generationsuntil I can come back. Oh whoops. There's a native here. Translator, what is he saying? `` What is that brown thing in your hand?'' She replies. Er... `` Its coffee.'' I say, she translates. I do n't know why I called it that, just sounded better. `` Sir, you disobeyed the directive. You were intended to discuss the name properly translated.'' She barks at me `` It will be okay. It does n't matter what its called. They'll love it.'' </s>

[ WP ] Write a story about the end of the world from two perspectives , one negative , and one positive

*First time be gentle* Your side of the bed stills smells like you. Still ca n't bring myself to wash it. Not that I would've bothered anyway, but still. I keep telling myself I sabotaged our relationship, like a noble knight sacrificing his love life for the greater good. You are... Were... Too good for me after all. But we both know that's not true. Remember when you said you did n't want a fancy a dinner for our anniversary? I knew you secretly did but apparently saving money was more important to me than actually seeing you happy. Funny how horrible that sounds in hindsight. I wish I could say I hope you're happy, but that would be a lie. Next time I'll see you with another man. One with a job, one that does n't drink alone and, one that can get it up every night. When I see you with that man, I'll tell myself I hope you're happy. I wo n't mean it tough. I'll secretly wish I ruined you for other men.

<s>[INST] Write a story about the end of the world from two perspectives , one negative , and one positive [/INST] *First time be gentle* Your side of the bed stills smells like you. Still ca n't bring myself to wash it. Not that I would've bothered anyway, but still. I keep telling myself I sabotaged our relationship, like a noble knight sacrificing his love life for the greater good. You are... Were... Too good for me after all. But we both know that's not true. Remember when you said you did n't want a fancy a dinner for our anniversary? I knew you secretly did but apparently saving money was more important to me than actually seeing you happy. Funny how horrible that sounds in hindsight. I wish I could say I hope you're happy, but that would be a lie. Next time I'll see you with another man. One with a job, one that does n't drink alone and, one that can get it up every night. When I see you with that man, I'll tell myself I hope you're happy. I wo n't mean it tough. I'll secretly wish I ruined you for other men. </s>

[ WP ] You own a `` little shop that was n't there yesterday '' , granting good people their wishes for small costs , and making terrible deals to the wicked . You just hired a new person . Show them the ropes .

`` And here,'' I said, showing Meg the shelf of mirrors, `` are where we keep the mirrors that only reflect a person's inner beauty.'' `` Nice,'' she said, reaching to pick one up. I gently took hold of her wrist and steered her away. `` I would n't recommend that,'' I said. `` You wan na work up to it. Not everybody's really ready to know who they really are. Start small -- see those mood rings? They change color depending on how decent a person you are. That's a good way to get used to it.'' Meg nodded. I was hopeful -- you always have reservations about new hires, but I really felt like Meg was catching on quick. She looked around the shop, past the baseball cards that actually showed a photo of a person's greatest memory of a loved one, by the fishing poles that you could actually catch a soul mate with, and past the pitted and rusted pocketwatches that would let you show up on time, no matter what. She pointed at the beaded curtain near the back. `` So how about that?'' `` Ah, yeah. About that. That's where we keep the cursed items for karmically appropriate punishments.'' At her raised eyebrow, I hurried to explain. `` Like if a guy abuses animals, he gets a teddy bear that gives him nightmares -- like, severe. We've got some needlepoint hangings for the religiously intolerant. A really nice cookware set that makes everything taste like baby wipes.'' `` Who's that for?'' `` Aggressive drivers.'' `` Get outta town.'' `` No, seriously. So it's pretty easy -- people come in here, they're looking for the'one perfect thing,' right? Now, you do n't have to do a thing. The store'll guide them to whatever it is they deserve, and it always looks like what they think they need, okay? So really, all you got ta do is be able to work a POS. Sound good?'' She nodded. The little bell over the door clanged, and we turned to see a well-dressed man shouting about `` climate change hoaxes.'' He held up a finger to us and kept shouting into the phone. I turned to Meg. `` Show time, kid.'' ***** *For more of my work, check out [ r/TheBrzezinskiCycle ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/TheBrzezinskiCycle/ ). *

<s>[INST] You own a `` little shop that was n't there yesterday '' , granting good people their wishes for small costs , and making terrible deals to the wicked . You just hired a new person . Show them the ropes . [/INST] `` And here,'' I said, showing Meg the shelf of mirrors, `` are where we keep the mirrors that only reflect a person's inner beauty.'' `` Nice,'' she said, reaching to pick one up. I gently took hold of her wrist and steered her away. `` I would n't recommend that,'' I said. `` You wan na work up to it. Not everybody's really ready to know who they really are. Start small -- see those mood rings? They change color depending on how decent a person you are. That's a good way to get used to it.'' Meg nodded. I was hopeful -- you always have reservations about new hires, but I really felt like Meg was catching on quick. She looked around the shop, past the baseball cards that actually showed a photo of a person's greatest memory of a loved one, by the fishing poles that you could actually catch a soul mate with, and past the pitted and rusted pocketwatches that would let you show up on time, no matter what. She pointed at the beaded curtain near the back. `` So how about that?'' `` Ah, yeah. About that. That's where we keep the cursed items for karmically appropriate punishments.'' At her raised eyebrow, I hurried to explain. `` Like if a guy abuses animals, he gets a teddy bear that gives him nightmares -- like, severe. We've got some needlepoint hangings for the religiously intolerant. A really nice cookware set that makes everything taste like baby wipes.'' `` Who's that for?'' `` Aggressive drivers.'' `` Get outta town.'' `` No, seriously. So it's pretty easy -- people come in here, they're looking for the'one perfect thing,' right? Now, you do n't have to do a thing. The store'll guide them to whatever it is they deserve, and it always looks like what they think they need, okay? So really, all you got ta do is be able to work a POS. Sound good?'' She nodded. The little bell over the door clanged, and we turned to see a well-dressed man shouting about `` climate change hoaxes.'' He held up a finger to us and kept shouting into the phone. I turned to Meg. `` Show time, kid.'' ***** *For more of my work, check out [ r/TheBrzezinskiCycle ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/TheBrzezinskiCycle/ ). * </s>

[ WP ] You arrive at Grandma 's funeral to find thousands of people from around the world also in mourning . You are entirely unaware that Grandma had 16.4m followers on Twitter .

The morning started out very rough, all the hotels within an hour of our hometown had been completely booked so all the family had to stay at our house the night before the funeral. I got up early to get ready and then went outside to sent on the porch and wait for my mom to say it was time to go. I had avoided social media for the last werk since my granny died because I did n't want to talk with anyone and had no idea what to say. I decided to bring up Twitter, hoping to see that my favorite person to talk to, @ tellthebartender, was online. I was about to send a message when I saw the I had received one from the same person. I was about to read it when my mom told me.it was time to leave. We began the procession to the church for the service. The traffic was uncharacterisitically thick, but the police escort ensured we got there. We arrived to find the parking lot completely full and people parking all along the street. We had to go in through the back door since the front was jammed with people. The priest met us and apologized, indicating that we had mentioned a small gathering. He mentioned that he had no idea granny was so important to so many, but the sight was a blessing. We were sitting in the front pews waiting, when three ladies, all around the same age as my granny came up and introduced themselves. They lived at the nursing home with her and had been friends for many years. I asked if they knew why all these people were here and they said they did, their explanation brought me to tears. Several years ago I apparently told.my granny that she just did n't understand today's problems, when she asked me if I needed to talk after my parents divorced. Rather than be saddened by this though, she decided to find a different way to help and made herself a Twitter account where she offered advice. Her three friends noticed her doing it one day and after she explained it, they joined in and ran the account together for several years, building up millions of followers and endeavoured to help everyone they could. I was confused for several moments, and then pulled out my phone bringing up the message I had missed. It read, Abigail Johnson, one of the four women who run this account has died and we will be taking a break for a few days to mourn the loss of our friend. We ask for your prayers and thoughts. I could n't believe it, my grandmother, someone's whose advice I completely discounted, helped me though some of the most difficult challenges I had faced in life and never once let on. I moved closer to the casket and listened, everyone who passed by thanked her for the advice and encouragement she had offered during their times of need.

<s>[INST] You arrive at Grandma 's funeral to find thousands of people from around the world also in mourning . You are entirely unaware that Grandma had 16.4m followers on Twitter . [/INST] The morning started out very rough, all the hotels within an hour of our hometown had been completely booked so all the family had to stay at our house the night before the funeral. I got up early to get ready and then went outside to sent on the porch and wait for my mom to say it was time to go. I had avoided social media for the last werk since my granny died because I did n't want to talk with anyone and had no idea what to say. I decided to bring up Twitter, hoping to see that my favorite person to talk to, @ tellthebartender, was online. I was about to send a message when I saw the I had received one from the same person. I was about to read it when my mom told me.it was time to leave. We began the procession to the church for the service. The traffic was uncharacterisitically thick, but the police escort ensured we got there. We arrived to find the parking lot completely full and people parking all along the street. We had to go in through the back door since the front was jammed with people. The priest met us and apologized, indicating that we had mentioned a small gathering. He mentioned that he had no idea granny was so important to so many, but the sight was a blessing. We were sitting in the front pews waiting, when three ladies, all around the same age as my granny came up and introduced themselves. They lived at the nursing home with her and had been friends for many years. I asked if they knew why all these people were here and they said they did, their explanation brought me to tears. Several years ago I apparently told.my granny that she just did n't understand today's problems, when she asked me if I needed to talk after my parents divorced. Rather than be saddened by this though, she decided to find a different way to help and made herself a Twitter account where she offered advice. Her three friends noticed her doing it one day and after she explained it, they joined in and ran the account together for several years, building up millions of followers and endeavoured to help everyone they could. I was confused for several moments, and then pulled out my phone bringing up the message I had missed. It read, Abigail Johnson, one of the four women who run this account has died and we will be taking a break for a few days to mourn the loss of our friend. We ask for your prayers and thoughts. I could n't believe it, my grandmother, someone's whose advice I completely discounted, helped me though some of the most difficult challenges I had faced in life and never once let on. I moved closer to the casket and listened, everyone who passed by thanked her for the advice and encouragement she had offered during their times of need. </s>

[ WP ] A Superhero who runs out of villians or crime in any fashion to fight .

`` 2 years, 9 months and 12 days. I keep a calendar in my kitchen. Have you seen my kitchen? I just had it renovated, third time this year.'' Tony Hark; billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and former CEO of Hark Industries sat across from Billy Woodel; 5th grader from Sundale Elementary School. Billy tried furiously to write as fast as the man was talking, but he kept getting distracted by all the MetalMan armor displayed around the room. A MetalMan glove re-purposed into a lamp on the one end table. An actual helmet sitting on the other end table. And best of all, ten original MetalMan armored suits in glass tubes on the far wall. Even the original one from when he defeated FrostBite back in 2018. `` You said 5 months right?'' Billy said without looking up from his paper. `` Nine. It was nine months. Try to keep up kid.'' Tony stood up and grabbed two thick books from a box next to the couch. He placed one book in front of Billy, `` this ought to help. Read this and then call my assistant if you have any more questions.'' Tony placed the other book in front of Billy's mother. He pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and wrote a phone number on the inside of the book, `` you can call me anytime. This is my personal number.'' Billy's mother tried to feign a smile as she picked up the books and motioned for Billy to stand up. `` Let's go Billy. We can do your report on someone else. Maybe CatMan is still available!'' `` But Logan is already doing CatMan!'' Billy whined. His mother kept pushing him out the door, `` We will find someone, anyone, else honey. Get your jacket.'' Tony watched as what may have been his last fan was hurried out the door by his mother. 2 years, 9 months and 12 days since he was hero. He had been ordered by his doctor to stop wearing the suits. His lungs just could n't take it anymore. He missed being MetalMan. When he was a hero people would let his terrible personality slide. Now he was just another rich asshole with 2.5 billion dollars worth of useless superhero tech on his walls. Oh, he still put the suits on once in awhile. His butler came into the lab one time to see MetalMan surfing /r/JusticePorn on his 70'' projection screen, a video of a mall cop tazering a deserving woman blaring at full volume. This is what he was reduced to. The government had offered to buy his suits. Use them for national security. The problem was that Tony did n't trust them. He did n't need the money anyway. Tony sat back down on his couch and poured himself another glass of Bowmore 25 year old scotch. He glanced over to the MetalMan helmet on the end table and put down his glass. Holding the helmet sent a wave of nostalgia through him. He placed it onto his head and heard the still familiar *click* as he latched it into place. Tony sat there in his $ 150 Armani jeans, $ 75 Affliction shirt and a $ 1.3 million helmet, picked up the remote and flicked on the TV. Just another day in the life of MetalMan.

<s>[INST] A Superhero who runs out of villians or crime in any fashion to fight . [/INST] `` 2 years, 9 months and 12 days. I keep a calendar in my kitchen. Have you seen my kitchen? I just had it renovated, third time this year.'' Tony Hark; billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and former CEO of Hark Industries sat across from Billy Woodel; 5th grader from Sundale Elementary School. Billy tried furiously to write as fast as the man was talking, but he kept getting distracted by all the MetalMan armor displayed around the room. A MetalMan glove re-purposed into a lamp on the one end table. An actual helmet sitting on the other end table. And best of all, ten original MetalMan armored suits in glass tubes on the far wall. Even the original one from when he defeated FrostBite back in 2018. `` You said 5 months right?'' Billy said without looking up from his paper. `` Nine. It was nine months. Try to keep up kid.'' Tony stood up and grabbed two thick books from a box next to the couch. He placed one book in front of Billy, `` this ought to help. Read this and then call my assistant if you have any more questions.'' Tony placed the other book in front of Billy's mother. He pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and wrote a phone number on the inside of the book, `` you can call me anytime. This is my personal number.'' Billy's mother tried to feign a smile as she picked up the books and motioned for Billy to stand up. `` Let's go Billy. We can do your report on someone else. Maybe CatMan is still available!'' `` But Logan is already doing CatMan!'' Billy whined. His mother kept pushing him out the door, `` We will find someone, anyone, else honey. Get your jacket.'' Tony watched as what may have been his last fan was hurried out the door by his mother. 2 years, 9 months and 12 days since he was hero. He had been ordered by his doctor to stop wearing the suits. His lungs just could n't take it anymore. He missed being MetalMan. When he was a hero people would let his terrible personality slide. Now he was just another rich asshole with 2.5 billion dollars worth of useless superhero tech on his walls. Oh, he still put the suits on once in awhile. His butler came into the lab one time to see MetalMan surfing /r/JusticePorn on his 70'' projection screen, a video of a mall cop tazering a deserving woman blaring at full volume. This is what he was reduced to. The government had offered to buy his suits. Use them for national security. The problem was that Tony did n't trust them. He did n't need the money anyway. Tony sat back down on his couch and poured himself another glass of Bowmore 25 year old scotch. He glanced over to the MetalMan helmet on the end table and put down his glass. Holding the helmet sent a wave of nostalgia through him. He placed it onto his head and heard the still familiar *click* as he latched it into place. Tony sat there in his $ 150 Armani jeans, $ 75 Affliction shirt and a $ 1.3 million helmet, picked up the remote and flicked on the TV. Just another day in the life of MetalMan. </s>

[ WP ] Some kind of force now allows people to die only on Tuesdays .

Wednesday is, unequivocally, everyone's favorite day of the week. Anything goes on a Wednesday. It's an awesome day to get in a car accident, or any kind of accident. Most of the injured can pull through in 6 days, by the time the next Tuesday rolls around. This makes Wednesday mornings primetime for adrenaline junkies to be reckless. But today is n't Wednesday. Today is Tuesday. `` Another late night, Jill?'' I look up from my computer screen to my coworker, Arnold, the resident daredevil. It was only five o'clock, and Arnold was on his way out. `` Another death wish, Arnold?'' I retort, pointedly eyeing the car keys in his hand. `` You ca n't live in fear, Jill.'' `` You ca n't live at all if you keep up that shit, Arnold.'' He tousles my hair. `` I'm here every Wednesday morning, are n't I? Have a little faith.'' `` I've got work to do, Arnold.'' `` No you do n't.'' He taps his car key against my desk twice and strides off towards the elevators. I put on my headphones and gear up for several hours of Netflix in the safety of the office. Soon midnight rolls around. Or so I thought. I look at my phone: two past eleven. `` Daylight savings time. Right. Well, whatever. Close enough. *Ca n't live in fear, right, Jill? *'' Mocking Arnold is my secret pastime. I grab my keys and head out to the parking lot. On the highway, a sports car revs up close behind me and taps my bumper. I check the rear view mirror and see the driver take a swig from a bottle in a paper bag. I quickly change lanes to let him pass by, but instead he pulls up beside me and matches my speed. He rolls down his window and lifts up the bottle. `` Happy Wednesday!'' he yells. *Shit. * I glance at my phone on the passenger seat. 11:39. I shout back at him. `` It's still Tuesday!'' `` What?'' he slurs. Then I see his eyes widen. I look forward. I've drifted. A concrete overpass support column is barreling towards me, and I towards it. It's 11:40, and I can already feel my heart stop.

<s>[INST] Some kind of force now allows people to die only on Tuesdays . [/INST] Wednesday is, unequivocally, everyone's favorite day of the week. Anything goes on a Wednesday. It's an awesome day to get in a car accident, or any kind of accident. Most of the injured can pull through in 6 days, by the time the next Tuesday rolls around. This makes Wednesday mornings primetime for adrenaline junkies to be reckless. But today is n't Wednesday. Today is Tuesday. `` Another late night, Jill?'' I look up from my computer screen to my coworker, Arnold, the resident daredevil. It was only five o'clock, and Arnold was on his way out. `` Another death wish, Arnold?'' I retort, pointedly eyeing the car keys in his hand. `` You ca n't live in fear, Jill.'' `` You ca n't live at all if you keep up that shit, Arnold.'' He tousles my hair. `` I'm here every Wednesday morning, are n't I? Have a little faith.'' `` I've got work to do, Arnold.'' `` No you do n't.'' He taps his car key against my desk twice and strides off towards the elevators. I put on my headphones and gear up for several hours of Netflix in the safety of the office. Soon midnight rolls around. Or so I thought. I look at my phone: two past eleven. `` Daylight savings time. Right. Well, whatever. Close enough. *Ca n't live in fear, right, Jill? *'' Mocking Arnold is my secret pastime. I grab my keys and head out to the parking lot. On the highway, a sports car revs up close behind me and taps my bumper. I check the rear view mirror and see the driver take a swig from a bottle in a paper bag. I quickly change lanes to let him pass by, but instead he pulls up beside me and matches my speed. He rolls down his window and lifts up the bottle. `` Happy Wednesday!'' he yells. *Shit. * I glance at my phone on the passenger seat. 11:39. I shout back at him. `` It's still Tuesday!'' `` What?'' he slurs. Then I see his eyes widen. I look forward. I've drifted. A concrete overpass support column is barreling towards me, and I towards it. It's 11:40, and I can already feel my heart stop. </s>

[ WP ] You 're a middle school custodian , cleaning up the school is your job . So when a group of men take the school hostage , they are no exception . You have a mess to clean .

Kiro wetted the tip of his mop with a swoosh and a twist, like a paintbrush. He mopped the hall, back and forth along the tile, the mop head evenly and delicately coating the floor in watery sheen, never touching where it already had been. It was beautiful, as artistic as mopping could be. BBRRRING! Kiro stopped. BBRRRING! Probably a fire drill. He retreated with his mop and bucket to the janitorial closet and swapped it for a dry mop. The hall would need to be dry for the kids pouring through. BBRRRING! He retraced the sheen on the floor with mechanical speed. He stopped and looked up, curious. No one was pouring through. Where were they? Was there really a fire? He started sniffing the air. A man burst into the hall, gun in hand. `` It's just a crazy old janitor,'' he called behind him. Two more men joined them. Kiro's eyes grew and he dropped his mop and held his hands up. They caught up to him, grabbed him, and took him into a nearby empty classroom. They sat him down into a desk, forcefully enough to shift from it's perfect place in the rows and columns he had set them in just an hour ago. He grunted and looked around at them. `` You got yourself into some shit here, janitor.'' `` But you probably deal with shit all day long, huh?'' They all laughed. They tromped around the classroom. One produced a flask of whiskey. One knocked a desk over. CRASH! This made Kiro wince. The sound of the desk reverberated in his ears. They knocked another desk over. CRASH! It boomed and echoed in his head. He could see particles of dust fly up from the floor. Everything slowed down: yelling and bustle outside, footsteps in the hall, the men laughing and drinking from the flask, spilling on themselves and the floor. The whiskey falling to the carpet was like a raging river crashing onto rocks below. They drank and bumped into desks. He could sense the asymmetry of their clothes and faces, and smell the horrible odors they excreted. The guns were all sloppily tucked in their waist bands. The one on the left was not cocked. Their hands in unready positions. One held the liquor. They laughed, eyes off him. 'Clear your mind, Kiro.' He closed his eyes and breathed in.'Strength in balance.' Still sitting, he placed his feet in symmetry, and his body followed.'Ready.' The janitor opened his eyes.

<s>[INST] You 're a middle school custodian , cleaning up the school is your job . So when a group of men take the school hostage , they are no exception . You have a mess to clean . [/INST] Kiro wetted the tip of his mop with a swoosh and a twist, like a paintbrush. He mopped the hall, back and forth along the tile, the mop head evenly and delicately coating the floor in watery sheen, never touching where it already had been. It was beautiful, as artistic as mopping could be. BBRRRING! Kiro stopped. BBRRRING! Probably a fire drill. He retreated with his mop and bucket to the janitorial closet and swapped it for a dry mop. The hall would need to be dry for the kids pouring through. BBRRRING! He retraced the sheen on the floor with mechanical speed. He stopped and looked up, curious. No one was pouring through. Where were they? Was there really a fire? He started sniffing the air. A man burst into the hall, gun in hand. `` It's just a crazy old janitor,'' he called behind him. Two more men joined them. Kiro's eyes grew and he dropped his mop and held his hands up. They caught up to him, grabbed him, and took him into a nearby empty classroom. They sat him down into a desk, forcefully enough to shift from it's perfect place in the rows and columns he had set them in just an hour ago. He grunted and looked around at them. `` You got yourself into some shit here, janitor.'' `` But you probably deal with shit all day long, huh?'' They all laughed. They tromped around the classroom. One produced a flask of whiskey. One knocked a desk over. CRASH! This made Kiro wince. The sound of the desk reverberated in his ears. They knocked another desk over. CRASH! It boomed and echoed in his head. He could see particles of dust fly up from the floor. Everything slowed down: yelling and bustle outside, footsteps in the hall, the men laughing and drinking from the flask, spilling on themselves and the floor. The whiskey falling to the carpet was like a raging river crashing onto rocks below. They drank and bumped into desks. He could sense the asymmetry of their clothes and faces, and smell the horrible odors they excreted. The guns were all sloppily tucked in their waist bands. The one on the left was not cocked. Their hands in unready positions. One held the liquor. They laughed, eyes off him. 'Clear your mind, Kiro.' He closed his eyes and breathed in.'Strength in balance.' Still sitting, he placed his feet in symmetry, and his body followed.'Ready.' The janitor opened his eyes. </s>

[ WP ] A `` popular '' girl falls in love with a `` nerdy '' boy , however he hates her and she spends all her time trying to impress him

Again, the wind blew through the window, fluttering the curtain. `` Why...'' the beauty in front of me sobbed `` why, of all people, I have to fall in love with you?'' Something is breaking inside my heart when I saw her crying, but I ca n't do anything, not if I do n't want to see her hurt even more. Truth to be told, I did n't want to see her cry. But the Fate is just too cruel, it let her fall for me, knowing full well that I wo n't be able to stay by her side. `` And why!'' she looked straight at my eyes, tears on her face `` Why ca n't you even give me a chance?!'' `` I'm sorry.'' The truth is, even now, I do n't know the reason. I do n't want to see her hurt. But I ca n't do anything. And yet I let her have the hope. Those lunch we shared together, the time I just ca n't refuse her dragging me everywhere... Half of this school inhabitants would kill to become me, and yet I.... `` I'm sorry, for giving you too much hope. I should have told you the first time we met.'' She wiped her face. `` No, I should have known this. From the very beginning. You....'' `` It's not your fault....'' `` Then whose fault was that? Huh? Whose fault was it that I looked just like *her*, that my voice just like *hers*, that every.single.thing. that I did remind you of *her*?'' She hugged me, I tried my best not to flinch. `` It's my fault for trying to find her in you. It was my fault for not being able to move on from her. So I'm sorry.'' I took her hand, and turned away. `` May you find your happiness.'' `` But *you* are my happiness.'' `` Then wait for me, until the sky on my heart had a place for another star to shine in it.'' *Fin*

<s>[INST] A `` popular '' girl falls in love with a `` nerdy '' boy , however he hates her and she spends all her time trying to impress him [/INST] Again, the wind blew through the window, fluttering the curtain. `` Why...'' the beauty in front of me sobbed `` why, of all people, I have to fall in love with you?'' Something is breaking inside my heart when I saw her crying, but I ca n't do anything, not if I do n't want to see her hurt even more. Truth to be told, I did n't want to see her cry. But the Fate is just too cruel, it let her fall for me, knowing full well that I wo n't be able to stay by her side. `` And why!'' she looked straight at my eyes, tears on her face `` Why ca n't you even give me a chance?!'' `` I'm sorry.'' The truth is, even now, I do n't know the reason. I do n't want to see her hurt. But I ca n't do anything. And yet I let her have the hope. Those lunch we shared together, the time I just ca n't refuse her dragging me everywhere... Half of this school inhabitants would kill to become me, and yet I.... `` I'm sorry, for giving you too much hope. I should have told you the first time we met.'' She wiped her face. `` No, I should have known this. From the very beginning. You....'' `` It's not your fault....'' `` Then whose fault was that? Huh? Whose fault was it that I looked just like *her*, that my voice just like *hers*, that every.single.thing. that I did remind you of *her*?'' She hugged me, I tried my best not to flinch. `` It's my fault for trying to find her in you. It was my fault for not being able to move on from her. So I'm sorry.'' I took her hand, and turned away. `` May you find your happiness.'' `` But *you* are my happiness.'' `` Then wait for me, until the sky on my heart had a place for another star to shine in it.'' *Fin* </s>

[ WP ] On your deathbed , having lived a successful life , you close your eyes for the last time and see the words : `` Level 2 . ''

If I could describe my life in one word, it would be mediocre. It was a simple, typical life, you know, the cliché wife and two kids, minimum wage cubicle job kind of life. One night I went to sleep, same as normal, but I had an odd dream. I saw in front of me a huge staircase leading up into the clouds. I climbed and climbed for what seemed to be an eternity to find two huge golden gates. I immediately thought, `` These must be the gates to heaven!'' I walk through and the landscape is black. The doors closed and slowly faded away into the deep, pulsing black now completely surrounding me. I rush back and try to escape to no avail. The doors are gone. So I think, `` Hey, it's just a dream.'' So the only real way to escape a dream is to harm yourself, right? I pinched myself. I slapped myself. I cut myself with my nails. But there was no pain, and it was clear: this was no dream. I keep walking into the darkness, and suddenly, I lose control of myself. I am forcibly walking along and I ca n't stop myself. Then, in huge letters I see the words `` Level 1 Complete!'' Then it adds 8300 XP to a counter above me. `` Weird,'' I thought, `` it's kinda like those video-majigger things my grandsons play on their NES thing. Then it says, `` Level 2.'' Huge blue gates appear in front of me. It's been 20 years since that day, and I've spent half of them trying to contact those of you in Level 1. I published this here, hoping my sons and grandchildren see this. Hopefully I'll see you in the next level! P.S. If you think life is hard now, just wait. Level 2 is a lot harder.

<s>[INST] On your deathbed , having lived a successful life , you close your eyes for the last time and see the words : `` Level 2 . '' [/INST] If I could describe my life in one word, it would be mediocre. It was a simple, typical life, you know, the cliché wife and two kids, minimum wage cubicle job kind of life. One night I went to sleep, same as normal, but I had an odd dream. I saw in front of me a huge staircase leading up into the clouds. I climbed and climbed for what seemed to be an eternity to find two huge golden gates. I immediately thought, `` These must be the gates to heaven!'' I walk through and the landscape is black. The doors closed and slowly faded away into the deep, pulsing black now completely surrounding me. I rush back and try to escape to no avail. The doors are gone. So I think, `` Hey, it's just a dream.'' So the only real way to escape a dream is to harm yourself, right? I pinched myself. I slapped myself. I cut myself with my nails. But there was no pain, and it was clear: this was no dream. I keep walking into the darkness, and suddenly, I lose control of myself. I am forcibly walking along and I ca n't stop myself. Then, in huge letters I see the words `` Level 1 Complete!'' Then it adds 8300 XP to a counter above me. `` Weird,'' I thought, `` it's kinda like those video-majigger things my grandsons play on their NES thing. Then it says, `` Level 2.'' Huge blue gates appear in front of me. It's been 20 years since that day, and I've spent half of them trying to contact those of you in Level 1. I published this here, hoping my sons and grandchildren see this. Hopefully I'll see you in the next level! P.S. If you think life is hard now, just wait. Level 2 is a lot harder. </s>

[ WP ] You 're starting to think your GPS is trying to kill you .

`` Siri, find directions to the nearest China Buffet.'' *bing* `` here is the fastest route from your location to China Buffet,'' Siri responded in her usual forced politeness. I set my phone down on my thigh and strapped my seatbelt over my lap. Backing out of the driveway, I happily imagined all of the noodles and crab Rangoon I was about to stuff myself full with. Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, I fiddled with the knobs on the dash until country music flooded into my truck. I tapped my fingers in time the beat and sang along with all of the impossible guitar solos. Right in the middle of the music, Siri cut in. `` In a quarter mile, turn left.'' Craning my neck, I looked a little further up the road and saw the street I was supposed to turn onto. It looks like it cuts through a small neighborhood, and I did n't even think that any China Buffets were off of the main roads. However, my mind wandered back to how many steaming sweet buns I could fit in my mouth and I swallowed, my stomach growling. As I turned into the residential area, I slowed down and coasted peacefully through the back roads. I noticed that it was more wooded and not many people were out and about. Of course, it was also kind of chilly outside, so it made sense to me that people would want to stay indoors. While still enjoying the scenery, Siri cut into my thoughts once again. `` In one thousand feet, turn right.'' I turned right. More directions followed, seemingly faster and faster and I could barely keep up. `` In one half of a mile, continue forward through the intersection. In three quarters of a mile, turn left. In 680 feet, turn right at the round-about.'' My tank was nearly empty now, I thought I must be at least close enough to a gas station to refill. Instead, I was only met by nothing but a rocky dirt road and the quiet whisperings of static as I was no longer in range of any radio station. I was starting to worry, what in the hell were these crazy directions? Suddenly, Siri pipped up once more. `` Speed up.'' Speed up? But I was almost out of gas and there was n't a single sign of a gas station anywhere. As I continued to drive along, I felt myself gaining speed. Glancing at my speedometer, I saw the needle slowly rising, seventy... Eighty... Ninety... Breaking one hundred miles an hour, I began to freak out. I stomped on my breaks, but nothing happened, and my truck only sped along faster. `` Siri, call 911!'' I shouted, grabbing my phone and wildly trying to unlock it. Siri gave me no response. As I frantically pressed in my unlock code, I looked up a split second before crashing headlong into a lake. The impact blasted a hole in the windshield and blue-black water gushed in, dousing me and pooling at my feet. Pressing all of my weight against the driver's door, I tugged furiously at the handle, but I could n't get it open. Slowly, as the water kept rising, my body felt more and more numb; the cab was filled to my waist and I was short of breath. Feeling weaker and colder by the second, I heaved one last time on the door, but still nothing gave way. My phone, now soaking wet and apparently functionless was still gripped between my white fingers. The water, now up to my neck, left me little air to breathe as I began pounding on the window. Just as I felt the cold chill reach my earlobes and leak into my ears, I heard Siri speak in that irritatingly nice tone: `` You have reached your destination.''

<s>[INST] You 're starting to think your GPS is trying to kill you . [/INST] `` Siri, find directions to the nearest China Buffet.'' *bing* `` here is the fastest route from your location to China Buffet,'' Siri responded in her usual forced politeness. I set my phone down on my thigh and strapped my seatbelt over my lap. Backing out of the driveway, I happily imagined all of the noodles and crab Rangoon I was about to stuff myself full with. Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, I fiddled with the knobs on the dash until country music flooded into my truck. I tapped my fingers in time the beat and sang along with all of the impossible guitar solos. Right in the middle of the music, Siri cut in. `` In a quarter mile, turn left.'' Craning my neck, I looked a little further up the road and saw the street I was supposed to turn onto. It looks like it cuts through a small neighborhood, and I did n't even think that any China Buffets were off of the main roads. However, my mind wandered back to how many steaming sweet buns I could fit in my mouth and I swallowed, my stomach growling. As I turned into the residential area, I slowed down and coasted peacefully through the back roads. I noticed that it was more wooded and not many people were out and about. Of course, it was also kind of chilly outside, so it made sense to me that people would want to stay indoors. While still enjoying the scenery, Siri cut into my thoughts once again. `` In one thousand feet, turn right.'' I turned right. More directions followed, seemingly faster and faster and I could barely keep up. `` In one half of a mile, continue forward through the intersection. In three quarters of a mile, turn left. In 680 feet, turn right at the round-about.'' My tank was nearly empty now, I thought I must be at least close enough to a gas station to refill. Instead, I was only met by nothing but a rocky dirt road and the quiet whisperings of static as I was no longer in range of any radio station. I was starting to worry, what in the hell were these crazy directions? Suddenly, Siri pipped up once more. `` Speed up.'' Speed up? But I was almost out of gas and there was n't a single sign of a gas station anywhere. As I continued to drive along, I felt myself gaining speed. Glancing at my speedometer, I saw the needle slowly rising, seventy... Eighty... Ninety... Breaking one hundred miles an hour, I began to freak out. I stomped on my breaks, but nothing happened, and my truck only sped along faster. `` Siri, call 911!'' I shouted, grabbing my phone and wildly trying to unlock it. Siri gave me no response. As I frantically pressed in my unlock code, I looked up a split second before crashing headlong into a lake. The impact blasted a hole in the windshield and blue-black water gushed in, dousing me and pooling at my feet. Pressing all of my weight against the driver's door, I tugged furiously at the handle, but I could n't get it open. Slowly, as the water kept rising, my body felt more and more numb; the cab was filled to my waist and I was short of breath. Feeling weaker and colder by the second, I heaved one last time on the door, but still nothing gave way. My phone, now soaking wet and apparently functionless was still gripped between my white fingers. The water, now up to my neck, left me little air to breathe as I began pounding on the window. Just as I felt the cold chill reach my earlobes and leak into my ears, I heard Siri speak in that irritatingly nice tone: `` You have reached your destination.'' </s>

[ WP ] The story ends with `` I wanted it to be you . God damn , I really did . ''

Rose petals shower the floor like blood after a slasher flick. Ah, yes this is just what I need, more shit to clean up. They seem to be leading into my room. I guess she wants to get a little romantic for Valentine's Day. I'm okay with that. I step into the room to see candles line the walls, but not bright enough to light up the area near the bed. Romantic love making in the dark? Mysterious. I like that. It just seems that my so called `` Significant Other'' is asleep. Maybe I'll wake her up with a little licky-licky. As I slide my tongue in and out and all around her baby-gun. I hear her moaning. I think she likes it. She starts to kick and smack me on the head. I guess she is too tired for this. That does n't seem like her regular behavior, but I guess she is mad at me for being late on Valentine's Day. Alright, I guess I'm sleeping on the couch. Valentine's Day night. Fuck this. The couch will have more room for me anyway. I step out and hit the sack on the love seat filled with one lonely individual. The next morning I awake to the smell of bacon and pancakes. Ah, yes. She is ready to apologize for last night. I get out of my `` bed'' and step into the kitchen. My beautiful wife is standing there in her robe. `` Morning, sunshine. Did you miss me?'' She asks with her cute little smile. `` I just saw you last night.'' I returned with a wink. `` Honey, I was n't home last night.'' She says as her mother walks into the kitchen with a yawn and shoots a wink in my direction. What was that about? `` I was gone all week, remember I said we would have to spend Valentine's a day late?'' That's when it hit me. That's when the cold hard truth fucking hit me. I looked hard into my wife's eyes and said `` I wanted it to be you. God damn, I really did.''

<s>[INST] The story ends with `` I wanted it to be you . God damn , I really did . '' [/INST] Rose petals shower the floor like blood after a slasher flick. Ah, yes this is just what I need, more shit to clean up. They seem to be leading into my room. I guess she wants to get a little romantic for Valentine's Day. I'm okay with that. I step into the room to see candles line the walls, but not bright enough to light up the area near the bed. Romantic love making in the dark? Mysterious. I like that. It just seems that my so called `` Significant Other'' is asleep. Maybe I'll wake her up with a little licky-licky. As I slide my tongue in and out and all around her baby-gun. I hear her moaning. I think she likes it. She starts to kick and smack me on the head. I guess she is too tired for this. That does n't seem like her regular behavior, but I guess she is mad at me for being late on Valentine's Day. Alright, I guess I'm sleeping on the couch. Valentine's Day night. Fuck this. The couch will have more room for me anyway. I step out and hit the sack on the love seat filled with one lonely individual. The next morning I awake to the smell of bacon and pancakes. Ah, yes. She is ready to apologize for last night. I get out of my `` bed'' and step into the kitchen. My beautiful wife is standing there in her robe. `` Morning, sunshine. Did you miss me?'' She asks with her cute little smile. `` I just saw you last night.'' I returned with a wink. `` Honey, I was n't home last night.'' She says as her mother walks into the kitchen with a yawn and shoots a wink in my direction. What was that about? `` I was gone all week, remember I said we would have to spend Valentine's a day late?'' That's when it hit me. That's when the cold hard truth fucking hit me. I looked hard into my wife's eyes and said `` I wanted it to be you. God damn, I really did.'' </s>

[ WP ] Humans have finally achieved interstellar travel and colonists are being chosen for distant planets . To keep costs low , each colonist is only allowed to bring one personal thing with them to another star system . You take with you ...

I had always thought, well assumed, I'd die under the light of this star. Then after the indeterminable wait, I would return. Apparently, that is not to be. Why they chose me, an old man of 98 I can not certainly say, but I have an idea. Even now, the once brilliant white of our mother is steadily turning a deeper red; spots, like blackened lesions, stretch across her now marred face. I've tried to remind those who would listen that it is not a zero-sum game. This is a cycle, no matter what agents are behind the rapid hydrogen loss of our sun, and every cycle has a new beginning, no matter how long since its end, life springs anew. But fear is a powerfully persuasive, and it is such a shame that it takes such power fear to finally join hands as children of the earth. I felt Sangay before he arrived. He stood at the door, streaming yellow linens, head bowed, another calm point of reflection in an ocean gone mad and foaming. `` Your H-'' `` I know, it is time.'' I looked again out of the photochromatic window at the sun that now spread horizon to horizon, threatening the orbit of earth itself, and sighed. `` Our shuttle to the GeeShip is waiting.'' I could n't help another sigh. I would die in that ship, that miles long column of hewn rock. I knew I would die there, that I did n't fear, I only feared j had nothing left to give to the people. We faced a cousin so different from us that attempted communication caused each pain. So different continued existence of one meant the death of the other. Such is life sometimes, I mused. Sangay took a hesitant step forward, `` and I took the privilege of gathering your things.'' `` You know we are only allowed one. And further, those things are what has kept me anchored to this place for so long.'' Sangay nodded without understanding. I laughed, even now, laughter came as easily to me as breath. `` We have new worlds,'' I spread my arm over where the horizon would be, `` and new life to find, let us leave what is earth's with her to pass peacefully. Plus, it's just stuff. I can always get more stuff.'' I laughed again, Chodak frowned, I laughed harder. Gathering my robes in one hand to ease my walking I pat him on the shoulder, `` You have much to learn Lobsang Sangay.'' `` And you have much to teach us, your Holiness.'' `` Do not call me that, again.'' `` As you wish, but if not that—'' `` Eternal Starlord of the Void between the Hereafter, and One with Everything. Or just Tenzin.'' I laughed so hard I had to hold onto Sangay to keep from falling. He laughs, although I can tell he's deeply confused. We are all confused and there will be more confusion, and pain, before this is done. So we share that laugh, the one thing I'll be taking with me to the stars.

<s>[INST] Humans have finally achieved interstellar travel and colonists are being chosen for distant planets . To keep costs low , each colonist is only allowed to bring one personal thing with them to another star system . You take with you ... [/INST] I had always thought, well assumed, I'd die under the light of this star. Then after the indeterminable wait, I would return. Apparently, that is not to be. Why they chose me, an old man of 98 I can not certainly say, but I have an idea. Even now, the once brilliant white of our mother is steadily turning a deeper red; spots, like blackened lesions, stretch across her now marred face. I've tried to remind those who would listen that it is not a zero-sum game. This is a cycle, no matter what agents are behind the rapid hydrogen loss of our sun, and every cycle has a new beginning, no matter how long since its end, life springs anew. But fear is a powerfully persuasive, and it is such a shame that it takes such power fear to finally join hands as children of the earth. I felt Sangay before he arrived. He stood at the door, streaming yellow linens, head bowed, another calm point of reflection in an ocean gone mad and foaming. `` Your H-'' `` I know, it is time.'' I looked again out of the photochromatic window at the sun that now spread horizon to horizon, threatening the orbit of earth itself, and sighed. `` Our shuttle to the GeeShip is waiting.'' I could n't help another sigh. I would die in that ship, that miles long column of hewn rock. I knew I would die there, that I did n't fear, I only feared j had nothing left to give to the people. We faced a cousin so different from us that attempted communication caused each pain. So different continued existence of one meant the death of the other. Such is life sometimes, I mused. Sangay took a hesitant step forward, `` and I took the privilege of gathering your things.'' `` You know we are only allowed one. And further, those things are what has kept me anchored to this place for so long.'' Sangay nodded without understanding. I laughed, even now, laughter came as easily to me as breath. `` We have new worlds,'' I spread my arm over where the horizon would be, `` and new life to find, let us leave what is earth's with her to pass peacefully. Plus, it's just stuff. I can always get more stuff.'' I laughed again, Chodak frowned, I laughed harder. Gathering my robes in one hand to ease my walking I pat him on the shoulder, `` You have much to learn Lobsang Sangay.'' `` And you have much to teach us, your Holiness.'' `` Do not call me that, again.'' `` As you wish, but if not that—'' `` Eternal Starlord of the Void between the Hereafter, and One with Everything. Or just Tenzin.'' I laughed so hard I had to hold onto Sangay to keep from falling. He laughs, although I can tell he's deeply confused. We are all confused and there will be more confusion, and pain, before this is done. So we share that laugh, the one thing I'll be taking with me to the stars. </s>