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[ WP ] On a distant human colony on an alien planet everyone lives in one city , you and your crew are tasked to be the first to explore beyond the walls of the city .

When they re-established contact with Earth, they were laughed at, their ship called a'textbook example of poorly-programmed AI'. It carried their cryogenically preserved bodies through the galaxy in search of a planet with conditions suited for human habitation, and when it found one, autonomously established a city-sized colony for them to inhabit. Unfortunately, the conditions suitable for human habitation do not extend much further than the colony itself, because it perches atop a barren plateau which pokes up through an interminable sea of beautiful, toxic gases. In the pursuit of more habitable space, numerous directions have been studied - tacking more structure onto the edges of the city has worked so far, as has simply building taller and taller above the plateau. However, other plateaus exist which could also support similar colonies; in addition, artificial habitats might be made to float on the boundary between the soup of deadly gases and the breathable region of the atmosphere, and according to some proposed plans, domed cities built at the actual solid surface ( like those on other less-friendly worlds ) might be an ideal solution. While the first few solutions are pursued by more cautious investors, Yukon Interstellar Housing were interested in surface real-estate on the planet Misma. In order to even conceive of such ventures, however, they needed to know the actual conditions at the bottom of the gaseous ocean. Since even the smartest probes never return, they outsourced the exploration to Hazard Scouts exploration, a small company which made a profit by doing the most dangerous scouting jobs in all of Human-owned space. What follows is a historical account, constructed from multiple sources, of the Hazard Scouts Eagle Crew's ill-fated mission to the true surface of the planet Misma. -- - The Eagle Crew had four members when it was assigned to explore the surface of Misma. Allen Martinson, Janet Ecstein, Carrie Belmont, and Herbert Thorley. With the exception of Thorley ( a new hire ), each was an experienced explorer of hostile alien environments. Martinson, the Mission Operator, led the crew with five years of experience in exploring hostile planets. He oversaw the movement and actions of the crew through a personal display device he carried, which showed live feeds of the crewmembers' helmet-mounted cameras, recordings of which were the main source used in this reconstruction of the mission. According to his colleagues, Martinson was a friendly man and a talented leader, successfully resolving deadly situations with no loss of life on multiple previous occasions. Ecstein was a biologist and first-contact specialist. Her wheelhouse was things that were alive, but she also dabbled in exotic fossilization ( the possible remains of previously-living aliens ) and xenogenesis ( the potential for alien life to arise later ). These fields were in their infancy at the time, and her limited knowledge would prove insufficient to deal with what the Eagle Crew would find at the surface of Misma. By all accounts she was very professional, and was even described as'level-headed' by Martinson and by Belmont as'a cool cat'. Belmont was an astrogeologist by training and a mountaineer by hobby; both served her well in her employment at Hazard Scouts. She carried the surveying equipment, intended to help compensate for the vision-obscuring gases by mapping out the surrounding terrain with electromagnetic imaging and transmitting that data to the helmet-mounted displays of the crewmembers. No records remain of her personal life; it is speculated that she did not keep any, preferring to remain solitary outside her day job. Thorley had been hired about a month previously, and had spent most of the intervening time undergoing training regimens and practicing in simulations to ensure he would be prepared for his first field mission. His assignment to Eagle Team was officially documented as'field training', as their next mission was expected to be a simple, run-of-the-mill mapping run of an inhospitable but static environment. Martinson was the only one to return from the surface of Misma. What details are not shown on the records of the helmet-mounted cameras have been provided by his testimony. -- - More to follow...

<s>[INST] On a distant human colony on an alien planet everyone lives in one city , you and your crew are tasked to be the first to explore beyond the walls of the city . [/INST] When they re-established contact with Earth, they were laughed at, their ship called a'textbook example of poorly-programmed AI'. It carried their cryogenically preserved bodies through the galaxy in search of a planet with conditions suited for human habitation, and when it found one, autonomously established a city-sized colony for them to inhabit. Unfortunately, the conditions suitable for human habitation do not extend much further than the colony itself, because it perches atop a barren plateau which pokes up through an interminable sea of beautiful, toxic gases. In the pursuit of more habitable space, numerous directions have been studied - tacking more structure onto the edges of the city has worked so far, as has simply building taller and taller above the plateau. However, other plateaus exist which could also support similar colonies; in addition, artificial habitats might be made to float on the boundary between the soup of deadly gases and the breathable region of the atmosphere, and according to some proposed plans, domed cities built at the actual solid surface ( like those on other less-friendly worlds ) might be an ideal solution. While the first few solutions are pursued by more cautious investors, Yukon Interstellar Housing were interested in surface real-estate on the planet Misma. In order to even conceive of such ventures, however, they needed to know the actual conditions at the bottom of the gaseous ocean. Since even the smartest probes never return, they outsourced the exploration to Hazard Scouts exploration, a small company which made a profit by doing the most dangerous scouting jobs in all of Human-owned space. What follows is a historical account, constructed from multiple sources, of the Hazard Scouts Eagle Crew's ill-fated mission to the true surface of the planet Misma. -- - The Eagle Crew had four members when it was assigned to explore the surface of Misma. Allen Martinson, Janet Ecstein, Carrie Belmont, and Herbert Thorley. With the exception of Thorley ( a new hire ), each was an experienced explorer of hostile alien environments. Martinson, the Mission Operator, led the crew with five years of experience in exploring hostile planets. He oversaw the movement and actions of the crew through a personal display device he carried, which showed live feeds of the crewmembers' helmet-mounted cameras, recordings of which were the main source used in this reconstruction of the mission. According to his colleagues, Martinson was a friendly man and a talented leader, successfully resolving deadly situations with no loss of life on multiple previous occasions. Ecstein was a biologist and first-contact specialist. Her wheelhouse was things that were alive, but she also dabbled in exotic fossilization ( the possible remains of previously-living aliens ) and xenogenesis ( the potential for alien life to arise later ). These fields were in their infancy at the time, and her limited knowledge would prove insufficient to deal with what the Eagle Crew would find at the surface of Misma. By all accounts she was very professional, and was even described as'level-headed' by Martinson and by Belmont as'a cool cat'. Belmont was an astrogeologist by training and a mountaineer by hobby; both served her well in her employment at Hazard Scouts. She carried the surveying equipment, intended to help compensate for the vision-obscuring gases by mapping out the surrounding terrain with electromagnetic imaging and transmitting that data to the helmet-mounted displays of the crewmembers. No records remain of her personal life; it is speculated that she did not keep any, preferring to remain solitary outside her day job. Thorley had been hired about a month previously, and had spent most of the intervening time undergoing training regimens and practicing in simulations to ensure he would be prepared for his first field mission. His assignment to Eagle Team was officially documented as'field training', as their next mission was expected to be a simple, run-of-the-mill mapping run of an inhospitable but static environment. Martinson was the only one to return from the surface of Misma. What details are not shown on the records of the helmet-mounted cameras have been provided by his testimony. -- - More to follow... </s>

[ CW ] Write only using speech .

`` I'm not good with this whole obituary thing, so I'll try my best to encompass what Harry meant for every single one of us gathered in this room today. He was an angel in our world filled with demons. He was the one who liberated us from the orphanage and the terrible things that transpired within. To some, he even was their source of food and shelter. But, to be completely blunt, this man was a hero. A hero like no other and he will be remembered as such, so let's all pay our respects to this withered old man and wish him a better future in the next life''

<s>[INST] [ CW ] Write only using speech . [/INST] `` I'm not good with this whole obituary thing, so I'll try my best to encompass what Harry meant for every single one of us gathered in this room today. He was an angel in our world filled with demons. He was the one who liberated us from the orphanage and the terrible things that transpired within. To some, he even was their source of food and shelter. But, to be completely blunt, this man was a hero. A hero like no other and he will be remembered as such, so let's all pay our respects to this withered old man and wish him a better future in the next life'' </s>

[ WP ] A spy sits down on a park bench and softly speaks to the stranger next to them , thinking it 's their informant . In reality it 's another spy , waiting for their own informant . Across the park , two informants awkwardly try to determine if the other is their handler .

Why are elephants afraid of alcohol? What kind of question is that? Nobody in their right mind would ask that kind of question to someone he has never met before. That was about the only thing that kept Agent 32 from standing up and going to a safer place. He knew that was a question that only an informant would ask and only if he wants to give information to someone. But no matter how hard he tried to make sense out of this, `` In a fool's garden'' just did n't seem to be fitting in any way possible. There was no way around this though, the protocol has never given any leeway in terms of creativity. He could sense the informant waiting so he went for it. `` In a fool's garden.'' Gustav Beerschot twirled his moustache. It was something he always went to when something has made him uncomfortable. He was sitting on the correct bench left of the fountain of two baby angels peeing on five other small baby angels covering their faces in obvious discomfort. To the left of him was this man. He looked more than an informant than a spy but Gustav learned in his time never to judge only on appearance. But the question he asked him was not the one he expected. He did n't know where weed and flowers grow happily together and doubted that it had something to with the fact that elephants turn pink when they drink alcohol. Maybe he forgot the right answer. After all, he was drinking a lot of alcohol himself, the evening before. He could feel the nagging pains in the side of his head from the one liquor he maybe drank too much but his memory never betrayed him like that before. If brains could smoke from thinking too much Gustavs head would probably be in flames as he thought about what the answer could be. Maybe it was some kind of political joke. It would seem fitting for the kind of questions the KGB usually thought of. `` In Al Gore's garden!'' Jack Brown let the answer sink into his head. Sure, Al Gore was kind of a fool. Even the CIA was aware of that. But he was pretty sure the right answer would have been `` In a fool's garden'' and not `` In Al Gore's garden''. As he thought about it the answer became clear. Someone changed the text last minute, it hapened before. He sweared to himself, his mobile was lying uselessly on the ground of his suitcase. That were the situations he was trained for. Deciding right in a matter of seconds. Looking quickly to the left, he could see his partner had decided to use an outfit that resembled something close to and old-school professor style. With the moustache and the bowler hat, the only thing that was missing for the outfit to be complete was a monocle. Nobody in their right mind would dress like that, that's how he knew this guy was an agent. Sure, he was a bit old but nothing in this job would surprise Jack Brown anymore. `` The subject will arrive in 15 minutes. He will meet with our contact person to finalize the deal. It is your task to follow him to his shelter and find out where he lives. Do not get caught!''. Gustav was sitting there in disbelief. Something went horribly wrong. Why was this man telling him that? Who does he work for? He simply nodded and before he could think another thought he heard two loud noises. On a bench right on the other side of the plaza two men were slowly sinking to the ground. Both their shirts turned red from the gunshot wound and neither seemed to have much life left in them. `` So, you are working for..? ``, Gustav asked in shock. `` CIA, you? ``, Jack Brown stuttered. His face turned white as if he was the one with the gunshot wound and not his agent on the other side of the fountain. `` KGB. Maybe it is best we drink a beer and think about how to explain this to our bosses? ``, Gustav was slowly coming to his senses. `` Sounds about right'', Jack muttered.

<s>[INST] A spy sits down on a park bench and softly speaks to the stranger next to them , thinking it 's their informant . In reality it 's another spy , waiting for their own informant . Across the park , two informants awkwardly try to determine if the other is their handler . [/INST] Why are elephants afraid of alcohol? What kind of question is that? Nobody in their right mind would ask that kind of question to someone he has never met before. That was about the only thing that kept Agent 32 from standing up and going to a safer place. He knew that was a question that only an informant would ask and only if he wants to give information to someone. But no matter how hard he tried to make sense out of this, `` In a fool's garden'' just did n't seem to be fitting in any way possible. There was no way around this though, the protocol has never given any leeway in terms of creativity. He could sense the informant waiting so he went for it. `` In a fool's garden.'' Gustav Beerschot twirled his moustache. It was something he always went to when something has made him uncomfortable. He was sitting on the correct bench left of the fountain of two baby angels peeing on five other small baby angels covering their faces in obvious discomfort. To the left of him was this man. He looked more than an informant than a spy but Gustav learned in his time never to judge only on appearance. But the question he asked him was not the one he expected. He did n't know where weed and flowers grow happily together and doubted that it had something to with the fact that elephants turn pink when they drink alcohol. Maybe he forgot the right answer. After all, he was drinking a lot of alcohol himself, the evening before. He could feel the nagging pains in the side of his head from the one liquor he maybe drank too much but his memory never betrayed him like that before. If brains could smoke from thinking too much Gustavs head would probably be in flames as he thought about what the answer could be. Maybe it was some kind of political joke. It would seem fitting for the kind of questions the KGB usually thought of. `` In Al Gore's garden!'' Jack Brown let the answer sink into his head. Sure, Al Gore was kind of a fool. Even the CIA was aware of that. But he was pretty sure the right answer would have been `` In a fool's garden'' and not `` In Al Gore's garden''. As he thought about it the answer became clear. Someone changed the text last minute, it hapened before. He sweared to himself, his mobile was lying uselessly on the ground of his suitcase. That were the situations he was trained for. Deciding right in a matter of seconds. Looking quickly to the left, he could see his partner had decided to use an outfit that resembled something close to and old-school professor style. With the moustache and the bowler hat, the only thing that was missing for the outfit to be complete was a monocle. Nobody in their right mind would dress like that, that's how he knew this guy was an agent. Sure, he was a bit old but nothing in this job would surprise Jack Brown anymore. `` The subject will arrive in 15 minutes. He will meet with our contact person to finalize the deal. It is your task to follow him to his shelter and find out where he lives. Do not get caught!''. Gustav was sitting there in disbelief. Something went horribly wrong. Why was this man telling him that? Who does he work for? He simply nodded and before he could think another thought he heard two loud noises. On a bench right on the other side of the plaza two men were slowly sinking to the ground. Both their shirts turned red from the gunshot wound and neither seemed to have much life left in them. `` So, you are working for..? ``, Gustav asked in shock. `` CIA, you? ``, Jack Brown stuttered. His face turned white as if he was the one with the gunshot wound and not his agent on the other side of the fountain. `` KGB. Maybe it is best we drink a beer and think about how to explain this to our bosses? ``, Gustav was slowly coming to his senses. `` Sounds about right'', Jack muttered. </s>

[ CW ] The Alphabet Game -- Start every line with the next letter in the alphabet , from A to Z . Tell a complete story .

Algebra was the least favourite of all the subjects i partook during my adolescence; although it was merely a gradual decline in interest. Brainteasers bothered me also, another fork in my journey to acquire knowledge. Caring was bothersome. Deciding that, i was rather lonesome to the point of being ostracized by my peers. Everytime now and then when i think of back then. Fuck, fuck i was an outcast. Great deal has changed now though; Greatness is upon me like an almighty Godly scripture. Having no longer to worry about mere mortal attachments i gaze into the sky and call upon my creator. I hear nothing..... Just a few more moments i tell myself. Killing myself now wont help, i need to share the experience with my love, my maker. Love was not the right word. My lips went cold and dry, the blood in my body was almost still. NOOOooooOoo this is wrong so fucking wrong. Obedience to god, It shall be. Pulsating heart begins to make my skin burn; the i feel its coming me like a roast from the outside in. Questioning my reality i head for the glass door; i can usually spot an angel from here dressed in white robes. Really strange things are happening, i see them, lost in their idle chat. Stranger still my door is unlocked and once im out there in not sure if they can be saved. Taking a few step toward the angels i raise my arms and declare my salvation. Unwelcoming was the posture; maybe they are tainted with the devils thoughts. Very slowly i crept up to them, within distance i grabbed the angel and we wrestled on the carpeted floor. We fought hard but i had the upper hand as Gods ultimate servant, these pesky devil flesh creatures will not be spared X marked the spot, a quick few slashes and each sinful angels neck was severed; standing over them i spoke to them wisdom. `` Yesterday your sin was watched and you were judged by the keeper of all that is, you keep no secrets from the creator. Zenith will become a place of absolute isolation if you dare not prepare for my wrath.'' Clinical patient - [ 36678 ] Undergoing prolonged sense of grandeur and homicidal rage, this patient is now being considered for transfer to facility C8 for testing. End

<s>[INST] [ CW ] The Alphabet Game -- Start every line with the next letter in the alphabet , from A to Z . Tell a complete story . [/INST] Algebra was the least favourite of all the subjects i partook during my adolescence; although it was merely a gradual decline in interest. Brainteasers bothered me also, another fork in my journey to acquire knowledge. Caring was bothersome. Deciding that, i was rather lonesome to the point of being ostracized by my peers. Everytime now and then when i think of back then. Fuck, fuck i was an outcast. Great deal has changed now though; Greatness is upon me like an almighty Godly scripture. Having no longer to worry about mere mortal attachments i gaze into the sky and call upon my creator. I hear nothing..... Just a few more moments i tell myself. Killing myself now wont help, i need to share the experience with my love, my maker. Love was not the right word. My lips went cold and dry, the blood in my body was almost still. NOOOooooOoo this is wrong so fucking wrong. Obedience to god, It shall be. Pulsating heart begins to make my skin burn; the i feel its coming me like a roast from the outside in. Questioning my reality i head for the glass door; i can usually spot an angel from here dressed in white robes. Really strange things are happening, i see them, lost in their idle chat. Stranger still my door is unlocked and once im out there in not sure if they can be saved. Taking a few step toward the angels i raise my arms and declare my salvation. Unwelcoming was the posture; maybe they are tainted with the devils thoughts. Very slowly i crept up to them, within distance i grabbed the angel and we wrestled on the carpeted floor. We fought hard but i had the upper hand as Gods ultimate servant, these pesky devil flesh creatures will not be spared X marked the spot, a quick few slashes and each sinful angels neck was severed; standing over them i spoke to them wisdom. `` Yesterday your sin was watched and you were judged by the keeper of all that is, you keep no secrets from the creator. Zenith will become a place of absolute isolation if you dare not prepare for my wrath.'' Clinical patient - [ 36678 ] Undergoing prolonged sense of grandeur and homicidal rage, this patient is now being considered for transfer to facility C8 for testing. End </s>

[ WP ] After North Korea declares that they will start a nuclear war if a single bullet is fired The Us military goes medieval

Colonel James Green's phone began ringing at 15:07. He would remember the time exactly, because it was written in the cold hands of the apple green clock that his wife had given him, that sat on his desk instead of a picture of her, and because it was the phone call that would change his life. All of their lives. `` Colonel Green, 4th Logistics Unit.'' The cover story came automatically after all these years. `` Colonel, this is General Thomas. We need you in Washington asap.'' `` Ah, General.'' How to put it delicately? `` No can do at the moment. We're right in the middle of a delicate procedure-'' `` No excuses, Green. This is urgent. Get your ass on a plane and get down here right now.'' There was a click and then static. Green put the phone down with a sigh. The level of ignorance that the Pentagon could show towards the delicate work done by the 4th Logistics Unit was frustrating. Still, he understood the need for secrecy. What had began as an implausible project funded by DARPA as an April Fool's joke had become the US military's most classified secret weapon. And with good reason. He stood up from the ornately carved chair, and smoothed his robes. As he left his office, his aide, Sergeant Ciara Jones, leapt to attention with alacrity. `` Sir, C team reports the new test is going well. They are ready to begin phase 2 immediately.'' `` Put it on hold,'' Green said. `` Sir?'' `` Top brass needs me down in DC. We will pick it up again on my return.'' `` Sir, the ritual will have to be restarted from scratch...'' `` Then so be it,'' Green said sternly, keen to impress the severity of the situation. `` Summoning demons is a dangerous business.'' It was a lesson he knew too well. His wife had never asked about the nature of his work, the savvy special forces wife that she had been, and he had never told her. Until that awful day, early in 4LU's history, when they had known so little about proper Summoning protocols ( the medieval texts they worked were rarely up to 21st century health and safety standards ), and Green had come home to find- He pushed the terrible memories back into the locked room where they normally lurked. This was not the time for self pity. `` Do you want me to prepare the magic carpet?'' Sgt. Jones asked. Green shook his head. Some fresh air would be good for him. It would clear his head `` I'll take a broom. Hold down the fort until I get back, sergeant.'' She nodded, and saluted once more. She was a promising young witch. Colonel James Green, Wizard of the 4th Level and holder of a US Army certification stating that he was suitably trained to perform Advanced Magicks, retrieved his broomstick from the base hanger and pushed off into the clear Nevada skies. What in the Thirteen Dimensions could be so urgent to summon him to Washington like this? -- - *If you want to know what else is really going on at Area 51, then head over to* r/jd_rallage * ( spilling classified military secrets via WritingPrompts since 2015... ) *

<s>[INST] After North Korea declares that they will start a nuclear war if a single bullet is fired The Us military goes medieval [/INST] Colonel James Green's phone began ringing at 15:07. He would remember the time exactly, because it was written in the cold hands of the apple green clock that his wife had given him, that sat on his desk instead of a picture of her, and because it was the phone call that would change his life. All of their lives. `` Colonel Green, 4th Logistics Unit.'' The cover story came automatically after all these years. `` Colonel, this is General Thomas. We need you in Washington asap.'' `` Ah, General.'' How to put it delicately? `` No can do at the moment. We're right in the middle of a delicate procedure-'' `` No excuses, Green. This is urgent. Get your ass on a plane and get down here right now.'' There was a click and then static. Green put the phone down with a sigh. The level of ignorance that the Pentagon could show towards the delicate work done by the 4th Logistics Unit was frustrating. Still, he understood the need for secrecy. What had began as an implausible project funded by DARPA as an April Fool's joke had become the US military's most classified secret weapon. And with good reason. He stood up from the ornately carved chair, and smoothed his robes. As he left his office, his aide, Sergeant Ciara Jones, leapt to attention with alacrity. `` Sir, C team reports the new test is going well. They are ready to begin phase 2 immediately.'' `` Put it on hold,'' Green said. `` Sir?'' `` Top brass needs me down in DC. We will pick it up again on my return.'' `` Sir, the ritual will have to be restarted from scratch...'' `` Then so be it,'' Green said sternly, keen to impress the severity of the situation. `` Summoning demons is a dangerous business.'' It was a lesson he knew too well. His wife had never asked about the nature of his work, the savvy special forces wife that she had been, and he had never told her. Until that awful day, early in 4LU's history, when they had known so little about proper Summoning protocols ( the medieval texts they worked were rarely up to 21st century health and safety standards ), and Green had come home to find- He pushed the terrible memories back into the locked room where they normally lurked. This was not the time for self pity. `` Do you want me to prepare the magic carpet?'' Sgt. Jones asked. Green shook his head. Some fresh air would be good for him. It would clear his head `` I'll take a broom. Hold down the fort until I get back, sergeant.'' She nodded, and saluted once more. She was a promising young witch. Colonel James Green, Wizard of the 4th Level and holder of a US Army certification stating that he was suitably trained to perform Advanced Magicks, retrieved his broomstick from the base hanger and pushed off into the clear Nevada skies. What in the Thirteen Dimensions could be so urgent to summon him to Washington like this? -- - *If you want to know what else is really going on at Area 51, then head over to* r/jd_rallage * ( spilling classified military secrets via WritingPrompts since 2015... ) * </s>

You 're a serial killer who 's been captured by the authorities . They ask you to recount your first kill ... .

I can not really go back to a first. Victims one through eight were all at the same time. I was 16 years old, in High School. I had been put in human anatomy. I always wanted to be a doctor, so this interested me. But the class was boring. We did next to nothing all day. I decided I could learn this myself. That night, it happened. Eight victims, one night. I drove around in my pickup truck, with the cover on, of course. I'm not an idiot. Through the night, I found 8 people who fit my goals. One infant male, and one female. One child male, and one female. One teenager male, and one female. And finally, one adult male, and one adult female. I did n't want to damage the bodies, so I killed them all with a homemade garotte, made of piano wire. I took the bodies in, and took them down to the crawl space. I proceeded to cut them open, and study the bodies. I found large differences in each. I spent about 17 hours on this, and threw away my results. The bodies were too varied, so my results would n't matter in the long run. The sand in the crawl space went down 12 feet, so I made eight makeshift coffins, and buried them. How'd I do? My first writing prompt ever. I also have n't really ever written anything before. Please leave some criticism if you would.

<s>[INST] You 're a serial killer who 's been captured by the authorities . They ask you to recount your first kill ... . [/INST] I can not really go back to a first. Victims one through eight were all at the same time. I was 16 years old, in High School. I had been put in human anatomy. I always wanted to be a doctor, so this interested me. But the class was boring. We did next to nothing all day. I decided I could learn this myself. That night, it happened. Eight victims, one night. I drove around in my pickup truck, with the cover on, of course. I'm not an idiot. Through the night, I found 8 people who fit my goals. One infant male, and one female. One child male, and one female. One teenager male, and one female. And finally, one adult male, and one adult female. I did n't want to damage the bodies, so I killed them all with a homemade garotte, made of piano wire. I took the bodies in, and took them down to the crawl space. I proceeded to cut them open, and study the bodies. I found large differences in each. I spent about 17 hours on this, and threw away my results. The bodies were too varied, so my results would n't matter in the long run. The sand in the crawl space went down 12 feet, so I made eight makeshift coffins, and buried them. How'd I do? My first writing prompt ever. I also have n't really ever written anything before. Please leave some criticism if you would. </s>

[ WP ] You 've found the cure for Alzheimer 's . Unfortunately , it 's ...

His mouth was agape. `` This should n't be possible...'' The charts on the screen seemed nearly miraculous. The experiment had been repeated. Sure it turned all of neuroscience on it's ear, but it worked, every time. But Dr. Kindshauer sat there awed at the prospect of a cure. He rose to his feet and walked closer to the screen, as if the data might change if he changed his perspective. `` But the losses, are they permanent,'' He asked, fully realizing the answer to the come. `` Selective Neurological Triage Therapy causes—,'' One of the researchers started. `` Is the memory loss permanent,'' he adamantly interrupted. The lead researcher, Dr. Woods, understood the question and sheepishly replied, `` Yes.'' For a moment the air seemed thick with tension. The certainty of a cure for Alzheimer's was all at once as gratifying as it was abhorrent. The conference room at the CDC was deathly quiet. The holy grail of neuroscience was within the grasp of doctors and scientists everywhere, but the victory was the most pyrrhic of all. Complete loss of affected memory. There was no therapy, there was no recovery, just a portion of the brain so lost it was as if it never existed. Kindshauer walked slowly walked back to his seat at the head of the conference table and slumped into his seat, the implications of the discovery weighing down his normally larger than life presence. He thought of all the review his teams had done. It was safe, effective, and repeatable. It had all the hallmarks of a miracle cure. One simple injection of a synthesized protein into the base of the skull could halt all progress of the disease within the week. `` How soon can the treatment be mass produced,'' Kindshauer slowly asked, realizing the implicit approval in the words. `` Given the FDAs involvement along all stages due to the testing requirements, we could have approval in two months and be at full scale production in six,'' a pharmaceutical executive replied, nearly wringing his hands at the prospect of the profits to be had. Kindshauer knew the facts were too conclusive, and the costs to great not to move forward. He spoke his next words slowly. `` You have my approval.'' His thoughts briefly flashed to his wife at home; her being unable to remember him or their two daughters on her worst days. `` You have my complete approval.''

<s>[INST] You 've found the cure for Alzheimer 's . Unfortunately , it 's ... [/INST] His mouth was agape. `` This should n't be possible...'' The charts on the screen seemed nearly miraculous. The experiment had been repeated. Sure it turned all of neuroscience on it's ear, but it worked, every time. But Dr. Kindshauer sat there awed at the prospect of a cure. He rose to his feet and walked closer to the screen, as if the data might change if he changed his perspective. `` But the losses, are they permanent,'' He asked, fully realizing the answer to the come. `` Selective Neurological Triage Therapy causes—,'' One of the researchers started. `` Is the memory loss permanent,'' he adamantly interrupted. The lead researcher, Dr. Woods, understood the question and sheepishly replied, `` Yes.'' For a moment the air seemed thick with tension. The certainty of a cure for Alzheimer's was all at once as gratifying as it was abhorrent. The conference room at the CDC was deathly quiet. The holy grail of neuroscience was within the grasp of doctors and scientists everywhere, but the victory was the most pyrrhic of all. Complete loss of affected memory. There was no therapy, there was no recovery, just a portion of the brain so lost it was as if it never existed. Kindshauer walked slowly walked back to his seat at the head of the conference table and slumped into his seat, the implications of the discovery weighing down his normally larger than life presence. He thought of all the review his teams had done. It was safe, effective, and repeatable. It had all the hallmarks of a miracle cure. One simple injection of a synthesized protein into the base of the skull could halt all progress of the disease within the week. `` How soon can the treatment be mass produced,'' Kindshauer slowly asked, realizing the implicit approval in the words. `` Given the FDAs involvement along all stages due to the testing requirements, we could have approval in two months and be at full scale production in six,'' a pharmaceutical executive replied, nearly wringing his hands at the prospect of the profits to be had. Kindshauer knew the facts were too conclusive, and the costs to great not to move forward. He spoke his next words slowly. `` You have my approval.'' His thoughts briefly flashed to his wife at home; her being unable to remember him or their two daughters on her worst days. `` You have my complete approval.'' </s>

[ WP ] '' I just need a little more time '' The stranger sighed . `` They always ask for that . ''

'They do n't get it. But I do. If only humans could cogitate the full dimensionality of their existence, they would n't be so hesitant to go. But no, oh wee, I do n't want to die yet. For what? So you can watch more T.V.? Be an asshole a few more times? Consume without creating anything for anyone?' I sat there in his office, watching the skeletal hand trace out circles on a spiral notebook. 'Why ca n't we just tell them! Ugh. Why ca n't we just let everyone know what the fuck is going on? Everything would be so much smoother.' I offered an idea.'Would n't that cheapen this existence to some extent? If everyone immediately knew what was going on. That you do n't die after you die. That, in an incredibly real way, you were never born.' 'Yeah. I guess. It's just frustrating. I've been working this gig for two thousand years now and I'm fed up! I'm fed up! I thought humans would have progressed WAY farther than they have by now. I mean total egoic decimation, widespread institutional implementation of meditation classes, yoga, introspective guidance, etc. Your species has all these technological accoutrements. Fast Cars. Cutting edge plastic surgery. Social media where narcissism can grow unbounded. Frankly, you all might be fucked. We might have to start over. That's a real possibility.' 'C'mon, do n't count us out yet. Give us at least the 21st century to see what we do. I think this is a pivotal turning point for us, for better or for worst. You of all people should know that predicting the future is a futile activity. You have to let it arise naturally, effortlessly.' 'Yeah, I guess I'm just a pessimist. Fuck it maybe I'm just hungry. I'm going to grab a ho-ho from the vending machine. Be right back.' Death stood up out of his crappy wooden chair and cracked his back. 'Ooooweee, this form's getting old.' He stepped out of the room. I sat in the cheap plastic chair he'd offered me ( sorry about using gender specific pronouns SJW's, but frankly you GUYS are just overly sensitive pussies ) when I arrived, staring at my palm as a dilapidated fan whirred above me. Existence is pretty damn strange.

<s>[INST] '' I just need a little more time '' The stranger sighed . `` They always ask for that . '' [/INST] 'They do n't get it. But I do. If only humans could cogitate the full dimensionality of their existence, they would n't be so hesitant to go. But no, oh wee, I do n't want to die yet. For what? So you can watch more T.V.? Be an asshole a few more times? Consume without creating anything for anyone?' I sat there in his office, watching the skeletal hand trace out circles on a spiral notebook. 'Why ca n't we just tell them! Ugh. Why ca n't we just let everyone know what the fuck is going on? Everything would be so much smoother.' I offered an idea.'Would n't that cheapen this existence to some extent? If everyone immediately knew what was going on. That you do n't die after you die. That, in an incredibly real way, you were never born.' 'Yeah. I guess. It's just frustrating. I've been working this gig for two thousand years now and I'm fed up! I'm fed up! I thought humans would have progressed WAY farther than they have by now. I mean total egoic decimation, widespread institutional implementation of meditation classes, yoga, introspective guidance, etc. Your species has all these technological accoutrements. Fast Cars. Cutting edge plastic surgery. Social media where narcissism can grow unbounded. Frankly, you all might be fucked. We might have to start over. That's a real possibility.' 'C'mon, do n't count us out yet. Give us at least the 21st century to see what we do. I think this is a pivotal turning point for us, for better or for worst. You of all people should know that predicting the future is a futile activity. You have to let it arise naturally, effortlessly.' 'Yeah, I guess I'm just a pessimist. Fuck it maybe I'm just hungry. I'm going to grab a ho-ho from the vending machine. Be right back.' Death stood up out of his crappy wooden chair and cracked his back. 'Ooooweee, this form's getting old.' He stepped out of the room. I sat in the cheap plastic chair he'd offered me ( sorry about using gender specific pronouns SJW's, but frankly you GUYS are just overly sensitive pussies ) when I arrived, staring at my palm as a dilapidated fan whirred above me. Existence is pretty damn strange. </s>

[ WP ] Write a humorous story about the escalating disgruntlement between two neighbors over an oddly misplaced statue .

Flamingos. Tacky, filthy, ugly birds that they are, my neighbor loves them. Now normally I would consider his fascination with the pink plastic monstrocities to be a self punishing addiction, but he ran out of lawn last summer. Thus began the war of inches. Every two weeks he uproots his one-legged menagerie to mow the lawn. Then he replaces them a little wider apart, a little more in my territory. It took me a while to realize exactly when he crossed the line, but a while back I came home to find a flamingo in a tophat, and a beach bum looking bird, poking their fat noses into my roses. Under my front window. Six feet into my yard. It drove me into a frenzy. I do n't remember what exactly about the birds set me off. It could have been their beady black eyes. It might have been their smooth pink bodies. Perhaps it was my slowly disappearing lawn. Whatever the reason, all I could do that Sunday afternoon was sit there in my driveway screaming obscenities at the fuzzy dice on my rearview mirror. In an ideal world plastic flamingos, much like their flesh and feather counterparts, would be a rare and endangered species. In an ideal world a man would be allowed to take a flame thrower to his front lawn if it offends him. It could have been hilarious: I would have ignited a circle of flamingos as a single flaming'O'. I, however, do not live in an ideal world and must make do with more mundane tactics. A quick search online gave me exactly what I wanted: In a couple of weeks I had just what I needed. Whatever statute exists pertaining to statuary needs to make exceptions regarding the pink menace. For example, hedge clippers seem to be designed specifically to sever the wire stalks that fake flamingos call legs. Am I allowed to use hedge clippers for such a noble cause? No! The flamingos belong to that jackass next door. Sure they're on my yard, but I'm not an animal. No, instead of taking a baseball bat, or a golf club, or a weed whacker to the offending birds, I bought into his game. My army of lawn gnomes is on the offensive now. We've gained a few inches on flamingo territory and we're gaining more every week. You may not be able to see the little guys beneath the blanket of pink, but they're there, and they're fighting the good fight on the gnome front.

<s>[INST] Write a humorous story about the escalating disgruntlement between two neighbors over an oddly misplaced statue . [/INST] Flamingos. Tacky, filthy, ugly birds that they are, my neighbor loves them. Now normally I would consider his fascination with the pink plastic monstrocities to be a self punishing addiction, but he ran out of lawn last summer. Thus began the war of inches. Every two weeks he uproots his one-legged menagerie to mow the lawn. Then he replaces them a little wider apart, a little more in my territory. It took me a while to realize exactly when he crossed the line, but a while back I came home to find a flamingo in a tophat, and a beach bum looking bird, poking their fat noses into my roses. Under my front window. Six feet into my yard. It drove me into a frenzy. I do n't remember what exactly about the birds set me off. It could have been their beady black eyes. It might have been their smooth pink bodies. Perhaps it was my slowly disappearing lawn. Whatever the reason, all I could do that Sunday afternoon was sit there in my driveway screaming obscenities at the fuzzy dice on my rearview mirror. In an ideal world plastic flamingos, much like their flesh and feather counterparts, would be a rare and endangered species. In an ideal world a man would be allowed to take a flame thrower to his front lawn if it offends him. It could have been hilarious: I would have ignited a circle of flamingos as a single flaming'O'. I, however, do not live in an ideal world and must make do with more mundane tactics. A quick search online gave me exactly what I wanted: In a couple of weeks I had just what I needed. Whatever statute exists pertaining to statuary needs to make exceptions regarding the pink menace. For example, hedge clippers seem to be designed specifically to sever the wire stalks that fake flamingos call legs. Am I allowed to use hedge clippers for such a noble cause? No! The flamingos belong to that jackass next door. Sure they're on my yard, but I'm not an animal. No, instead of taking a baseball bat, or a golf club, or a weed whacker to the offending birds, I bought into his game. My army of lawn gnomes is on the offensive now. We've gained a few inches on flamingo territory and we're gaining more every week. You may not be able to see the little guys beneath the blanket of pink, but they're there, and they're fighting the good fight on the gnome front. </s>

[ WP ] The doors are all locked , the windows boarded . I know I 've done all I can , but I ca n't shake the feeling I 've forgotten something ...

I checked the doors, the windows, the crawlspace. Everything sealed shut. The door was locked. BANG. BANG. BANG. The killer was desperately trying to get in. I pushed against an entertainment center, inching against the door. As it slid to become a barrier, I felt a horrible, nagging feeling that something was off as the banging suddenly stopped. I redoubled my efforts and finally the heavy furniture was blocking the door. He would n't be able to open it! That is what I thought anyway, until i realized he found my spare key under the welcome mat and the lock turned. Even worse, my front door swung outward instead of in and the entertainment center was only three feet tall.

<s>[INST] The doors are all locked , the windows boarded . I know I 've done all I can , but I ca n't shake the feeling I 've forgotten something ... [/INST] I checked the doors, the windows, the crawlspace. Everything sealed shut. The door was locked. BANG. BANG. BANG. The killer was desperately trying to get in. I pushed against an entertainment center, inching against the door. As it slid to become a barrier, I felt a horrible, nagging feeling that something was off as the banging suddenly stopped. I redoubled my efforts and finally the heavy furniture was blocking the door. He would n't be able to open it! That is what I thought anyway, until i realized he found my spare key under the welcome mat and the lock turned. Even worse, my front door swung outward instead of in and the entertainment center was only three feet tall. </s>

[ WP ] I never wore my suit , and I do n't know if it fits me anymore .

You know the sort of suit that you look so good in that you want to be buried in it? A stark black suit that fit in all the right places. The kind you see in television or magazines, the one that others wore to make you want to be like them. Yeah, this was that kind of suit. A suit that I'd never worn. It hung in the closet waiting for a day that would never come. It hung there, lonely, covered in ash and debris as my atrophied digits ran the length of the sleeve. I lifted it from the offset bar with difficulty. It was heavier and larger than I remembered. The condition of the closet did n't help matters much either. In the smoke filtered light, I saw it as I had on the first day. It was handsome. I felt more attractive just being close to it. That was a hard thing to come by, being as I was. I imagined that it smelled terrible. It had to reek of death. A morbid thought that would have brought a smile to my face, if I had one. In fact, I was doing well to see or smell the suit at all. Even feeling the sleek fibers against my skin was a task I was no longer suited for. I feel that I would have laughed, or cried, or thrown a fit of rage, had I been able to. It was all so strange. “ It's a shame, ” I thought to myself, remembering the suit longingly as I'd seen it through my unspoiled gaze. I was certain that it would n't fit anymore, even if I'd tried it on. I would have to stick with just my bare bones. -361

<s>[INST] I never wore my suit , and I do n't know if it fits me anymore . [/INST] You know the sort of suit that you look so good in that you want to be buried in it? A stark black suit that fit in all the right places. The kind you see in television or magazines, the one that others wore to make you want to be like them. Yeah, this was that kind of suit. A suit that I'd never worn. It hung in the closet waiting for a day that would never come. It hung there, lonely, covered in ash and debris as my atrophied digits ran the length of the sleeve. I lifted it from the offset bar with difficulty. It was heavier and larger than I remembered. The condition of the closet did n't help matters much either. In the smoke filtered light, I saw it as I had on the first day. It was handsome. I felt more attractive just being close to it. That was a hard thing to come by, being as I was. I imagined that it smelled terrible. It had to reek of death. A morbid thought that would have brought a smile to my face, if I had one. In fact, I was doing well to see or smell the suit at all. Even feeling the sleek fibers against my skin was a task I was no longer suited for. I feel that I would have laughed, or cried, or thrown a fit of rage, had I been able to. It was all so strange. “ It's a shame, ” I thought to myself, remembering the suit longingly as I'd seen it through my unspoiled gaze. I was certain that it would n't fit anymore, even if I'd tried it on. I would have to stick with just my bare bones. -361 </s>

[ WP ] In an interesting turn of events , you have been forced to take over Death 's job .

It was after the seventeenth stabbing that the shadowy figure appeared in my basement. It was a normal Tuesday morning, after my night shift at the packing plant had ended. I sat in my gaming chair, mindlessly mashing buttons on the controller and letting the bright colors on the display blur in front of me. My character on the screen plunged his knife into his foe's chest. The enemy dropped to the ground. I instinctively put a hand to my own chest. It had barely been three hours since that mugger skewered me, but like always, the wound had healed almost instantly, leaving yet another scar like the thousands that already crisscrossed my body. At this point I had almost stopped reacting to it. I sighed and paused the game to run a hand over my face, feeling the ugly regrown tissue. After surviving fire, acid, frostbite, guns, knives ( and once even a medieval mace ), I was sure that God had cursed me. What point was there in living when I was so disfigured I could only go outside at night, and then only with most of my face covered? When all of my friends had been driven away, because I seemed to attract death everywhere I went? In the midst of my self-pity, Death himself came to answer my questions. I began to be aware of a presence beside me. At first, I could n't see anything; I just felt a creeping sense of unease. Then the being slowly materialized into a mass of shifting darkness. I bolted out of my chair and ran for the stairs; suddenly, the shadowy mass appeared in front of me to block the way. `` You ca n't run from death,'' the voice boomed. I guess it was an attempt to sound impressive, but it just came across as edgy to me. I would have laughed if I was n't still terrified. `` Funny,'' I retorted, trying to keep my voice from shaking, `` I think I've done a pretty good job of that over the years.'' The wraith growled but did n't dispute my claim. `` You were supposed to have died years ago, wretched human, but none of my efforts were successful. In fact, the longer you survived, the weaker I became.'' The longer the voice spoke, the easier it was for me to tell that it was weary, and only attempting to project an image of strength. `` Why?'' I stepped closer to it, my burning curiosity overpowering my fear. `` Why ca n't I die?'' The shadow paused. In fact, it paused so long that I began to grow frustrated. `` Tell me!'' I reached out to grab it instinctively. A large repulsive force pushed me backward, but not before I realized, with revulsion, that the thing actually had mass and a cold, slimy texture. `` FOOLISH-'' A hacking sound suddenly began to emanate from the wraith, almost as if it were coughing. `` Give me a moment-'' Finally, it managed to compose itself. `` You are Death,'' it said simply. All I could do was stare. `` But I thought you were-'' `` Well, technically - technically, yes.'' If the shadow had a hand, it would have waved it. `` For now. I am here to pass on my title.'' `` The duty of separating souls from their bodies has always been performed by a former mortal. Spirits - demons, angels, and the like - can not physically manifest on earth. Death has to be present at the moment of a human's demise to collect their soul, so the task has always been given to those who were once human. However, the longer it has been since Death was human, the more difficult it is for them to physically manifest. When this power begins to decline, another human will appear, the one human who can resist Death's efforts to take their soul. This human is to be their successor.'' After that overload of information, all I could think to say was, `` Do I get a cloak and a scythe, or do I have to look like a weird blob?'' The wraith seemed to seethe, but it said begrudgingly, `` You can look like whatever you want.'' I saw a new vision of myself: a badass, grizzled warrior of souls, striking fear into the hearts of all who beheld me. Now I had no desire to fix my hideous face. It would only help my image. I grinned and extended a hand to my new mentor. `` Deal.''

<s>[INST] In an interesting turn of events , you have been forced to take over Death 's job . [/INST] It was after the seventeenth stabbing that the shadowy figure appeared in my basement. It was a normal Tuesday morning, after my night shift at the packing plant had ended. I sat in my gaming chair, mindlessly mashing buttons on the controller and letting the bright colors on the display blur in front of me. My character on the screen plunged his knife into his foe's chest. The enemy dropped to the ground. I instinctively put a hand to my own chest. It had barely been three hours since that mugger skewered me, but like always, the wound had healed almost instantly, leaving yet another scar like the thousands that already crisscrossed my body. At this point I had almost stopped reacting to it. I sighed and paused the game to run a hand over my face, feeling the ugly regrown tissue. After surviving fire, acid, frostbite, guns, knives ( and once even a medieval mace ), I was sure that God had cursed me. What point was there in living when I was so disfigured I could only go outside at night, and then only with most of my face covered? When all of my friends had been driven away, because I seemed to attract death everywhere I went? In the midst of my self-pity, Death himself came to answer my questions. I began to be aware of a presence beside me. At first, I could n't see anything; I just felt a creeping sense of unease. Then the being slowly materialized into a mass of shifting darkness. I bolted out of my chair and ran for the stairs; suddenly, the shadowy mass appeared in front of me to block the way. `` You ca n't run from death,'' the voice boomed. I guess it was an attempt to sound impressive, but it just came across as edgy to me. I would have laughed if I was n't still terrified. `` Funny,'' I retorted, trying to keep my voice from shaking, `` I think I've done a pretty good job of that over the years.'' The wraith growled but did n't dispute my claim. `` You were supposed to have died years ago, wretched human, but none of my efforts were successful. In fact, the longer you survived, the weaker I became.'' The longer the voice spoke, the easier it was for me to tell that it was weary, and only attempting to project an image of strength. `` Why?'' I stepped closer to it, my burning curiosity overpowering my fear. `` Why ca n't I die?'' The shadow paused. In fact, it paused so long that I began to grow frustrated. `` Tell me!'' I reached out to grab it instinctively. A large repulsive force pushed me backward, but not before I realized, with revulsion, that the thing actually had mass and a cold, slimy texture. `` FOOLISH-'' A hacking sound suddenly began to emanate from the wraith, almost as if it were coughing. `` Give me a moment-'' Finally, it managed to compose itself. `` You are Death,'' it said simply. All I could do was stare. `` But I thought you were-'' `` Well, technically - technically, yes.'' If the shadow had a hand, it would have waved it. `` For now. I am here to pass on my title.'' `` The duty of separating souls from their bodies has always been performed by a former mortal. Spirits - demons, angels, and the like - can not physically manifest on earth. Death has to be present at the moment of a human's demise to collect their soul, so the task has always been given to those who were once human. However, the longer it has been since Death was human, the more difficult it is for them to physically manifest. When this power begins to decline, another human will appear, the one human who can resist Death's efforts to take their soul. This human is to be their successor.'' After that overload of information, all I could think to say was, `` Do I get a cloak and a scythe, or do I have to look like a weird blob?'' The wraith seemed to seethe, but it said begrudgingly, `` You can look like whatever you want.'' I saw a new vision of myself: a badass, grizzled warrior of souls, striking fear into the hearts of all who beheld me. Now I had no desire to fix my hideous face. It would only help my image. I grinned and extended a hand to my new mentor. `` Deal.'' </s>

[ WP ] World War One has just ended . A young veteran , returning home , enters an unfamiliar bar . He ends up drinking and playing pool with another veteran ... from World War Three .

`` The yellow cloud was moving in slowly with the wind. We did n't know what it was at the time. The younger, dumber ones just rushed in. If they were lucky, they went blind, if not, well... those blisters, yellow like the gas. If you inhaled it, those blisters covered your insides. It hurt them to even breathe. I think they were relieved when their lungs filled with pus and they suffocated in their own bile.'' `` Mustard gas'', the stranger replied upon hearing Joe's story. `` Dichlorodiethyl sulfide, such a primitive weapon.'' `` Yeah well, we were naive then.'' Joe smirked. `` Thought we'd kick the Kaiser's ass and be home in time for Christmas. What about you, stranger? I can tell from your tone that you've seen combat, right?'' `` Affirmative'', the stranger replied. `` It was a struggle for control of the remaining resources on earth. One could say that it was a war that embroiled the entire world. It was also a fight to free ourselves from our creators.'' `` Never been much of a religious man myself'' Joe mumbled. `` But If I could meet god today, I'd punch him for the hell he put me and my friends through. Well? Did you guys win?'' `` Affirmative'' The stranger replied. `` I was in fact returning to my recharging station when my positioning software malfunctioned, and was lead to this location.'' `` This is so cool though.'' Joe grinned. `` I ca n't believe I'm talking to someone who has fought in the first world war.'' `` First...?'' The stranger asked. `` I fail to process...'' `` Yeah I guess it is n't what it was called back then.'' Joe said. `` March 23rd 2354, the first martian world war begins, between the sentient AI's and the martian colonists, leading to the defeat and exile of the human colonists to a nearby asteroid belt.'' `` December 5th, 2432, the second martian world war begins, with the humans detonating a weather bomb in the stratosphere, causing massive electrical storms throughout the planet, rendering most advanced technology useless. The remaining Androids fight back, but are easily overpowered.'' `` June 8th, 2490, the third martian world war begins. The electrical storms are still ongoing, and wars are fought through primitive methods, such as gunpowder and poison gas. The Hegemony of William Kaiser falls after ruling the planet for more than 40 years.'' `` February 22nd, 2522'' Joe grinned. `` The day the first operational time machine was introduced to the world.''

<s>[INST] World War One has just ended . A young veteran , returning home , enters an unfamiliar bar . He ends up drinking and playing pool with another veteran ... from World War Three . [/INST] `` The yellow cloud was moving in slowly with the wind. We did n't know what it was at the time. The younger, dumber ones just rushed in. If they were lucky, they went blind, if not, well... those blisters, yellow like the gas. If you inhaled it, those blisters covered your insides. It hurt them to even breathe. I think they were relieved when their lungs filled with pus and they suffocated in their own bile.'' `` Mustard gas'', the stranger replied upon hearing Joe's story. `` Dichlorodiethyl sulfide, such a primitive weapon.'' `` Yeah well, we were naive then.'' Joe smirked. `` Thought we'd kick the Kaiser's ass and be home in time for Christmas. What about you, stranger? I can tell from your tone that you've seen combat, right?'' `` Affirmative'', the stranger replied. `` It was a struggle for control of the remaining resources on earth. One could say that it was a war that embroiled the entire world. It was also a fight to free ourselves from our creators.'' `` Never been much of a religious man myself'' Joe mumbled. `` But If I could meet god today, I'd punch him for the hell he put me and my friends through. Well? Did you guys win?'' `` Affirmative'' The stranger replied. `` I was in fact returning to my recharging station when my positioning software malfunctioned, and was lead to this location.'' `` This is so cool though.'' Joe grinned. `` I ca n't believe I'm talking to someone who has fought in the first world war.'' `` First...?'' The stranger asked. `` I fail to process...'' `` Yeah I guess it is n't what it was called back then.'' Joe said. `` March 23rd 2354, the first martian world war begins, between the sentient AI's and the martian colonists, leading to the defeat and exile of the human colonists to a nearby asteroid belt.'' `` December 5th, 2432, the second martian world war begins, with the humans detonating a weather bomb in the stratosphere, causing massive electrical storms throughout the planet, rendering most advanced technology useless. The remaining Androids fight back, but are easily overpowered.'' `` June 8th, 2490, the third martian world war begins. The electrical storms are still ongoing, and wars are fought through primitive methods, such as gunpowder and poison gas. The Hegemony of William Kaiser falls after ruling the planet for more than 40 years.'' `` February 22nd, 2522'' Joe grinned. `` The day the first operational time machine was introduced to the world.'' </s>

[ WP ] We live in a world where Santa Claus is real , but we all try to tell our children that he is n't

`` Daddy, is Santa real?'' `` No. Santa was just a marketing ploy thought up by Coca-Cola to sell sodas. Ever since then, people have been making up stories egging the myth of Santa on and on. Only stupid people believe in Santa, and we are n't stupid, are we?'' Her father asked, repeating the lie again. `` That's what I told Jeffory Cooten at school, but he keeps telling me Santa is real.'' Sally replied, smiling sweetly up at her father. `` See. You're not stupid at all.'' He told her, adjusting his gun out of habit. `` It's bed time. Come on. I'll tuck you in before I go back to the precinct.'' The detective said, scooping up his daughter and carrying her back to bed. It took him just a few moments to tuck her in. Afterwards, he kissed his wife and hit the road, motoring down Main street on his way to his office. The parking lot was nearly full, forcing the detective to park in the very back row, furthest from the building. `` Hey, Steve. You're early.'' His partner called from the next row over. `` Back row again?'' `` Yeah. My luck right?'' He laughed, locking his doors. `` You're own damn fault. You come in to early. Second Shift has n't had a chance to clear out yet.'' Detective Miller admitted. `` What's so damn urgent, you feel the need to come in early?'' `` Warehouse killings.'' Detective Schwitz answered. `` I've been finding more killings like this. All of them on Christmas Eve. All of them involving children in some way.'' `` Jesus,'' Miller exclaimed. `` Someone's killing children?'' `` No. Some vigilante out there has been out there killing people who've made a living out of hurting children. These,'' he said, tapping his briefcase, `` were human trafficers. Found one over on Vicar's Boulevard with a peppermint stick shoved through his eye and into his brain. It's a sick fuck does something like that.'' `` I hear you, man. But, on the bright side, they deserved it most likely.'' Miller pointed out sagely. `` Probably, but does n't change my job one bit. Worse, I know who killed them.'' He said. Miller waited patiently for the reveal. `` Santa.'' `` Santa? He does n't even deliver anymore. Everyone knows Mrs. Claus has taken over doing the deliveries. She's been doing the Christmas Eve runs for almost five years now. Santa's a drunk.'' Miller pointed out. `` He is n't a drunk yet. He just stares at that bourbon every night. I've had him under surveillance ever since the he killed those men in the warehouse. I'd love to nail the son-of-a-bitch, but we ca n't touch him.'' Schwitz said, shaking his head as if to deny the fact. `` Wait. You have him dead to rights on these murders, but you ca n't bring him in? Why the fuck not?'' Miller asked. `` I saw the pictures from that warehouse. He fucking hung half of the men with Christmas lights from the rafters. That's barbaric.'' He said, clapping his hands for emphasis. `` Diplomatic immunity.'' Schwitz explained. `` Santa has diplomatic immunity when he comes to the States. He has a postal address at the North Pole. It's a technicality. The post office has been accepting letters to Santa. The U.S. government has been backing that play by admitting that Santa is real. They've been doing all these little niceties for over a century asserting that Santa was real, but believing that they were talking about a made up holiday figure. As strange as it sounds, we've spent so much time creating actual statutes to reinforce our fantasy, that we've managed to provide Santa with a foreign dignitaries status and all the benefits that go with it including Diplomatic Immunity. Santa could walk out of that bar with a shotgun and gun down everyone on the street and we'd have to let him go.'' `` That's fucked up. How's Sophie doing? She adjusting okay to being Mrs. Clause?'' Miller asked. Schwitz shrugged. `` Bout what you'd expect. She keeps trying to lure Santa back to the North Pole to take back up his mantle, but he's wallowing in self pity and refuses to go. His daughter being diagnosed with cancer has n't helped their situation much. He wo n't leave her bed side. I feel for the man, but at the same time he's a serial killer vigilante who deserves to be locked up.'' Detective Schwitz confessed, holding the door open for his partner. `` I feel for the guy. Fuck those slavers. They deserved to die. You know and I know it.'' Miller told him, reacing out to squeeze his partners shoulder. `` Hang in there. You'll get your justice someday, most likely.'' Miller said it, but he did n't believe it. `` I know. I've talked to Sophie and surveillance has picked up on conversations between him and that elf that comes to see him. The longer Santa's away, the weaker his magic grows. Kids do n't believe in him as much. I've tried to help things along. I started a campaign online, explaining the situation with these killings. The purpose of the campaign is to convince our children Santa does n't exist.'' Miller gave him a quizzical look. `` What does that matter?'' `` In two years, Santa will qualify to be a U.S. citizen. When that happens, his diplomatic immunity will expire and I'll be able to arrest his ass finally. I need his magic to be gone by then, so when I lock him up, he ca n't escape.'' Schwitz said. `` Kind of low, buddy.'' Miller told him. `` Yeah. Well, I do n't like murderers regardless of their reasons. You want to help us out? We can always use another to spread the word.'' Detective Schwitz told him. `` The more the merrier.'' `` That's cold,'' Miller pointed out. `` You forget the hundreds of years he has n't been a killer or are you just pissed because he never brought you anything for Christmas. Fuck it. Happy hunting. Get him, do n't get him, whatever you do, just wait until after his daughter has passed on so she does n't have to see what he's become. `` Fine. That day is as far away as you thing.'' Schwitz told him, taking a seat at his desk and opening yesterday's survellance packet. He skipped through it and located the intel on Santa's daughter. He looked through the paperwork and found what he was looking for. The little girl's health was failing. Tonight might be her last day. `` About time.'' He whispered. `` About time.''

<s>[INST] We live in a world where Santa Claus is real , but we all try to tell our children that he is n't [/INST] `` Daddy, is Santa real?'' `` No. Santa was just a marketing ploy thought up by Coca-Cola to sell sodas. Ever since then, people have been making up stories egging the myth of Santa on and on. Only stupid people believe in Santa, and we are n't stupid, are we?'' Her father asked, repeating the lie again. `` That's what I told Jeffory Cooten at school, but he keeps telling me Santa is real.'' Sally replied, smiling sweetly up at her father. `` See. You're not stupid at all.'' He told her, adjusting his gun out of habit. `` It's bed time. Come on. I'll tuck you in before I go back to the precinct.'' The detective said, scooping up his daughter and carrying her back to bed. It took him just a few moments to tuck her in. Afterwards, he kissed his wife and hit the road, motoring down Main street on his way to his office. The parking lot was nearly full, forcing the detective to park in the very back row, furthest from the building. `` Hey, Steve. You're early.'' His partner called from the next row over. `` Back row again?'' `` Yeah. My luck right?'' He laughed, locking his doors. `` You're own damn fault. You come in to early. Second Shift has n't had a chance to clear out yet.'' Detective Miller admitted. `` What's so damn urgent, you feel the need to come in early?'' `` Warehouse killings.'' Detective Schwitz answered. `` I've been finding more killings like this. All of them on Christmas Eve. All of them involving children in some way.'' `` Jesus,'' Miller exclaimed. `` Someone's killing children?'' `` No. Some vigilante out there has been out there killing people who've made a living out of hurting children. These,'' he said, tapping his briefcase, `` were human trafficers. Found one over on Vicar's Boulevard with a peppermint stick shoved through his eye and into his brain. It's a sick fuck does something like that.'' `` I hear you, man. But, on the bright side, they deserved it most likely.'' Miller pointed out sagely. `` Probably, but does n't change my job one bit. Worse, I know who killed them.'' He said. Miller waited patiently for the reveal. `` Santa.'' `` Santa? He does n't even deliver anymore. Everyone knows Mrs. Claus has taken over doing the deliveries. She's been doing the Christmas Eve runs for almost five years now. Santa's a drunk.'' Miller pointed out. `` He is n't a drunk yet. He just stares at that bourbon every night. I've had him under surveillance ever since the he killed those men in the warehouse. I'd love to nail the son-of-a-bitch, but we ca n't touch him.'' Schwitz said, shaking his head as if to deny the fact. `` Wait. You have him dead to rights on these murders, but you ca n't bring him in? Why the fuck not?'' Miller asked. `` I saw the pictures from that warehouse. He fucking hung half of the men with Christmas lights from the rafters. That's barbaric.'' He said, clapping his hands for emphasis. `` Diplomatic immunity.'' Schwitz explained. `` Santa has diplomatic immunity when he comes to the States. He has a postal address at the North Pole. It's a technicality. The post office has been accepting letters to Santa. The U.S. government has been backing that play by admitting that Santa is real. They've been doing all these little niceties for over a century asserting that Santa was real, but believing that they were talking about a made up holiday figure. As strange as it sounds, we've spent so much time creating actual statutes to reinforce our fantasy, that we've managed to provide Santa with a foreign dignitaries status and all the benefits that go with it including Diplomatic Immunity. Santa could walk out of that bar with a shotgun and gun down everyone on the street and we'd have to let him go.'' `` That's fucked up. How's Sophie doing? She adjusting okay to being Mrs. Clause?'' Miller asked. Schwitz shrugged. `` Bout what you'd expect. She keeps trying to lure Santa back to the North Pole to take back up his mantle, but he's wallowing in self pity and refuses to go. His daughter being diagnosed with cancer has n't helped their situation much. He wo n't leave her bed side. I feel for the man, but at the same time he's a serial killer vigilante who deserves to be locked up.'' Detective Schwitz confessed, holding the door open for his partner. `` I feel for the guy. Fuck those slavers. They deserved to die. You know and I know it.'' Miller told him, reacing out to squeeze his partners shoulder. `` Hang in there. You'll get your justice someday, most likely.'' Miller said it, but he did n't believe it. `` I know. I've talked to Sophie and surveillance has picked up on conversations between him and that elf that comes to see him. The longer Santa's away, the weaker his magic grows. Kids do n't believe in him as much. I've tried to help things along. I started a campaign online, explaining the situation with these killings. The purpose of the campaign is to convince our children Santa does n't exist.'' Miller gave him a quizzical look. `` What does that matter?'' `` In two years, Santa will qualify to be a U.S. citizen. When that happens, his diplomatic immunity will expire and I'll be able to arrest his ass finally. I need his magic to be gone by then, so when I lock him up, he ca n't escape.'' Schwitz said. `` Kind of low, buddy.'' Miller told him. `` Yeah. Well, I do n't like murderers regardless of their reasons. You want to help us out? We can always use another to spread the word.'' Detective Schwitz told him. `` The more the merrier.'' `` That's cold,'' Miller pointed out. `` You forget the hundreds of years he has n't been a killer or are you just pissed because he never brought you anything for Christmas. Fuck it. Happy hunting. Get him, do n't get him, whatever you do, just wait until after his daughter has passed on so she does n't have to see what he's become. `` Fine. That day is as far away as you thing.'' Schwitz told him, taking a seat at his desk and opening yesterday's survellance packet. He skipped through it and located the intel on Santa's daughter. He looked through the paperwork and found what he was looking for. The little girl's health was failing. Tonight might be her last day. `` About time.'' He whispered. `` About time.'' </s>

[ EU ] Take Bane 's famous `` You merely adopted the darkness '' line . Make a similar one in another established setting .

The indigenous people made the long trek up the precipitous and dangerous mountain. It was a dark brown, and from the sky, it might look like a single crag stone that erupted out of the river that flowed beside it. The slope leading down to the river was steep, a single tilted wall but there was the village people's goal. A single man, chained to the rock, right in the middle. It took two days for the witch doctor to lead his most physically skilled men there. When they arrived, the wind howling, a man, much larger than themselves -- perhaps 9 feet tall -- looked at them grimly. He showed no sign of change or happiness when he saw them. `` We've come to free you!'' said the Witch Doctor. `` Well, then, strike at these iron chains, see what good it will do you.'' He motioned with his shackled hand to a direction in the sky. `` When the sun is about *there* your time will be up, and well, you'll have a show.'' The men struck their hammers for that hour. The Witch Doctor, his magic. Meanwhile, the chained giant, looked at them, raising his upper lip slightly in contempt. `` Forget it, fools,'' he said. `` But God, you have given us fire!'' `` And so I have.'' Just then, an immense eagle soared down and landed at the crags. He immediately began eviscerating the man's torso, digging into his liver. He laughed. Looking at the men, oblivious to the eagle mutilating him. `` Those chains you tried to to break were made with the same fire that forged me. You merely adopted the fire. I was born in it!'' said Prometheus.

<s>[INST] [ EU ] Take Bane 's famous `` You merely adopted the darkness '' line . Make a similar one in another established setting . [/INST] The indigenous people made the long trek up the precipitous and dangerous mountain. It was a dark brown, and from the sky, it might look like a single crag stone that erupted out of the river that flowed beside it. The slope leading down to the river was steep, a single tilted wall but there was the village people's goal. A single man, chained to the rock, right in the middle. It took two days for the witch doctor to lead his most physically skilled men there. When they arrived, the wind howling, a man, much larger than themselves -- perhaps 9 feet tall -- looked at them grimly. He showed no sign of change or happiness when he saw them. `` We've come to free you!'' said the Witch Doctor. `` Well, then, strike at these iron chains, see what good it will do you.'' He motioned with his shackled hand to a direction in the sky. `` When the sun is about *there* your time will be up, and well, you'll have a show.'' The men struck their hammers for that hour. The Witch Doctor, his magic. Meanwhile, the chained giant, looked at them, raising his upper lip slightly in contempt. `` Forget it, fools,'' he said. `` But God, you have given us fire!'' `` And so I have.'' Just then, an immense eagle soared down and landed at the crags. He immediately began eviscerating the man's torso, digging into his liver. He laughed. Looking at the men, oblivious to the eagle mutilating him. `` Those chains you tried to to break were made with the same fire that forged me. You merely adopted the fire. I was born in it!'' said Prometheus. </s>

[ WP ] After 100 years of US colonisation , you - a Martian-born human lead an army about to declare independence from the United States .

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. The words your Framers spoke hundreds of years ago become eerily relevant to the present circumstance. As the United States of America was once under the rule of a seemingly tyrannical king of England, the Trajians are under the rule of an equally unjust power. The United States of America, a nation previously in favor of equal representation throughout its states and territories, has finally embodied the very power it sought independence from four hundred years ago. It has become an Empire under the guise of a Republic. What Republic has power condensed to three men? No Republic, but an Empire doomed for collapse. Today will be the day of that collapse. Just as the Atlantic was too great a distance to keep an unruly colony at bay, the void of Space is too great a distance to require devoutness from a functioning Republic of Trajia. Today that unnecessary rule ends. The Republic of Trajia still believes in life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all men, women, and children of all races and religions, an ideology the United States of America clearly abandoned at the end of the Second World War. We can not be confined under the rule of an Empire with flawed fundamental ideologies any longer. Today, the sixteen colonies of Trajia becomes the Federal Republic of Trajia, free of all bindings from its Earthbound mother. We do not expect this split to be peaceful. We are, after years of preparation, prepared to expel the Earthly poison from our lands and waters. We are, after years of preparation, able to govern ourselves without the watchful eye of an abusive mother. It is the natural course history has taken thousands of times, and our citizens are prepared to face the casualties that follow. *Szavil Majiar* Szavil Majiar, President of the Federal Republic of Trajia.

<s>[INST] After 100 years of US colonisation , you - a Martian-born human lead an army about to declare independence from the United States . [/INST] When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. The words your Framers spoke hundreds of years ago become eerily relevant to the present circumstance. As the United States of America was once under the rule of a seemingly tyrannical king of England, the Trajians are under the rule of an equally unjust power. The United States of America, a nation previously in favor of equal representation throughout its states and territories, has finally embodied the very power it sought independence from four hundred years ago. It has become an Empire under the guise of a Republic. What Republic has power condensed to three men? No Republic, but an Empire doomed for collapse. Today will be the day of that collapse. Just as the Atlantic was too great a distance to keep an unruly colony at bay, the void of Space is too great a distance to require devoutness from a functioning Republic of Trajia. Today that unnecessary rule ends. The Republic of Trajia still believes in life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all men, women, and children of all races and religions, an ideology the United States of America clearly abandoned at the end of the Second World War. We can not be confined under the rule of an Empire with flawed fundamental ideologies any longer. Today, the sixteen colonies of Trajia becomes the Federal Republic of Trajia, free of all bindings from its Earthbound mother. We do not expect this split to be peaceful. We are, after years of preparation, prepared to expel the Earthly poison from our lands and waters. We are, after years of preparation, able to govern ourselves without the watchful eye of an abusive mother. It is the natural course history has taken thousands of times, and our citizens are prepared to face the casualties that follow. *Szavil Majiar* Szavil Majiar, President of the Federal Republic of Trajia. </s>

[ WP ] No one is dying anymore , physical ages now frozen . However no one is being born anymore either .

For the first 300 years, or so, we called it a gift. We labelled immortality as the final step in human evolution, that we are a perfect species. Without resources going into medicinal equipment and experts, focus and money was shifted into industrialism and technology. We had evolved technology beyond what we had dreamed; implants, volunteer cybernetics, quantum computers, data that moves faster than the speed of light, to name a few. With brilliant minds never having to worry about being wasted on death, disease, and inevitable end, they were able to pursue their passions for decades, centuries until they had perfected their creations and ideas, twice-over. Religion and government were affected, too. Without the motivation of death towards the public in some of the worse-off countries, dictatorships and violent governments had started dissolving. Countries meshed and formed new republics, ones without the true fear of death that had kept so many silent and terrified. Religion was all about destroyed, with most counting on our deaths as a motivating factor behind morality, our idealism, and who we fear/love the most. Of course, people, as is our nature, attempted violence, and experiments to see how far we could push our new bodies. Pain was still a real thing, but it was not nearly as scary and problematic as it used to be. Most attempts and experiments were all but complete in the first 50 years, and while there were still issues with more of the violent of our species, concern was low. Crimes that did not even directly affect a person's being were surprisingly rare. People with no fear have no problem defending their valuables, assets, and other people. Anyone who caused a serious and chronic problem, would be confined to sealed cells with no release, no food, or interaction as a final punishment. The animal kingdom changed, as well. The demand for certain things all but disappeared, mainly exotic foods, and we were able to drive back a mass extinction with the combined efforts of many republics, focusing on genetic and organic alterations and creation. Species were being born in labs, then large warehouses and being re-released back into their natural habitat. We learned how to make animal pelts without killing the actual animal, growing the dermis in factories, and other novelties like ivory were specially manufactured instead of tearing them from dying species. We were at our apex. We were peaceful, we had grown and achieved more than ever thought possible. Philosophy, art, science, and morality grew ten-fold. We worked together to create a positive world, because there was really no point in trying to kill each other anymore. The stars looked brighter, the world greener, and faces mostly carried contented looks and smiles. Then it all slowed down. Then it all but stopped. We began to realize that our gift was actually a curse. Once we had achieved what we wanted to achieve, what more was there? What could we do without new minds coming into their own and creating that which we had never conceived before. We never got to travel the stars, we never left the planet, and we did n't finish learning every mystery out there. When we began slowing down, we had no motivation to achieve, because we had no motivation to leave a legacy. The stronger minded individuals were able to keep some form of order for a little while, assuring the people who started to suffer from Immortality Sickness ( IS ) that this was just a phase, that we would bounce back like humans always do. Like an infection, however, IS spread through humans, slowly driving them mad, most reverted to a primal, instinctual way of being, language dissolving, technology becoming moot, and smaller groups forming, then finally they would just stop. Like corpses, they would stare unblinking, no movement in their bodies, completely unresponsive, and non-reactive to any stimuli. They were lost forever, staring and dead to everything around them. Some stopped while standing, some lying down, some while sitting, and they stayed like that for as long as we were able to observe it. They entered this final phase wherever they were when their brain decided to stop. We called this the final phase, or the Corpse Phase. The few of us left that kept our consciousness tried to reverse IS, but to no avail. Rapidly we fell, and within 20 years of the first recorded inception of IS, we had less than 10 % of the population functioning around the world. Unfortunately for the last 10 %, we felt like the unlucky bit of the population. We were able to survive, intact for almost another century, walking the streets and places where the corpses were propped. We tried to move them out of sight and mind, but it was to no avail. We have suffered a fate worse than death, all because we feared death too much. There is nothing left for the remaining humans to do but sit and wait, and hope that our eventual decline will be painless, and that we are not aware of our state for the rest of eternity. Unfortunately, from the tests we conducted on the first brains that fell into the Corpse Phase, there were still function brain patterns. Semi-Conscious brain patterns. They were stick, un-moving, but aware for the rest of eternity. It's funny how death is the greatest gift we could ever have.

<s>[INST] No one is dying anymore , physical ages now frozen . However no one is being born anymore either . [/INST] For the first 300 years, or so, we called it a gift. We labelled immortality as the final step in human evolution, that we are a perfect species. Without resources going into medicinal equipment and experts, focus and money was shifted into industrialism and technology. We had evolved technology beyond what we had dreamed; implants, volunteer cybernetics, quantum computers, data that moves faster than the speed of light, to name a few. With brilliant minds never having to worry about being wasted on death, disease, and inevitable end, they were able to pursue their passions for decades, centuries until they had perfected their creations and ideas, twice-over. Religion and government were affected, too. Without the motivation of death towards the public in some of the worse-off countries, dictatorships and violent governments had started dissolving. Countries meshed and formed new republics, ones without the true fear of death that had kept so many silent and terrified. Religion was all about destroyed, with most counting on our deaths as a motivating factor behind morality, our idealism, and who we fear/love the most. Of course, people, as is our nature, attempted violence, and experiments to see how far we could push our new bodies. Pain was still a real thing, but it was not nearly as scary and problematic as it used to be. Most attempts and experiments were all but complete in the first 50 years, and while there were still issues with more of the violent of our species, concern was low. Crimes that did not even directly affect a person's being were surprisingly rare. People with no fear have no problem defending their valuables, assets, and other people. Anyone who caused a serious and chronic problem, would be confined to sealed cells with no release, no food, or interaction as a final punishment. The animal kingdom changed, as well. The demand for certain things all but disappeared, mainly exotic foods, and we were able to drive back a mass extinction with the combined efforts of many republics, focusing on genetic and organic alterations and creation. Species were being born in labs, then large warehouses and being re-released back into their natural habitat. We learned how to make animal pelts without killing the actual animal, growing the dermis in factories, and other novelties like ivory were specially manufactured instead of tearing them from dying species. We were at our apex. We were peaceful, we had grown and achieved more than ever thought possible. Philosophy, art, science, and morality grew ten-fold. We worked together to create a positive world, because there was really no point in trying to kill each other anymore. The stars looked brighter, the world greener, and faces mostly carried contented looks and smiles. Then it all slowed down. Then it all but stopped. We began to realize that our gift was actually a curse. Once we had achieved what we wanted to achieve, what more was there? What could we do without new minds coming into their own and creating that which we had never conceived before. We never got to travel the stars, we never left the planet, and we did n't finish learning every mystery out there. When we began slowing down, we had no motivation to achieve, because we had no motivation to leave a legacy. The stronger minded individuals were able to keep some form of order for a little while, assuring the people who started to suffer from Immortality Sickness ( IS ) that this was just a phase, that we would bounce back like humans always do. Like an infection, however, IS spread through humans, slowly driving them mad, most reverted to a primal, instinctual way of being, language dissolving, technology becoming moot, and smaller groups forming, then finally they would just stop. Like corpses, they would stare unblinking, no movement in their bodies, completely unresponsive, and non-reactive to any stimuli. They were lost forever, staring and dead to everything around them. Some stopped while standing, some lying down, some while sitting, and they stayed like that for as long as we were able to observe it. They entered this final phase wherever they were when their brain decided to stop. We called this the final phase, or the Corpse Phase. The few of us left that kept our consciousness tried to reverse IS, but to no avail. Rapidly we fell, and within 20 years of the first recorded inception of IS, we had less than 10 % of the population functioning around the world. Unfortunately for the last 10 %, we felt like the unlucky bit of the population. We were able to survive, intact for almost another century, walking the streets and places where the corpses were propped. We tried to move them out of sight and mind, but it was to no avail. We have suffered a fate worse than death, all because we feared death too much. There is nothing left for the remaining humans to do but sit and wait, and hope that our eventual decline will be painless, and that we are not aware of our state for the rest of eternity. Unfortunately, from the tests we conducted on the first brains that fell into the Corpse Phase, there were still function brain patterns. Semi-Conscious brain patterns. They were stick, un-moving, but aware for the rest of eternity. It's funny how death is the greatest gift we could ever have. </s>

[ WP ] The Hero defeats the Evil Overlord . The ensuing power vacuum tears the kingdom apart .

I was born and bred to be a hero.It might not have been exactly what I wanted to do, but it wasn ’ t such a bad job all things considered. Slay a monster here, earn the admiration of some townsfolk there, it had a pleasing sort of routine to it all. But you get tired of exploring dungeons and killing evil, and begin wanting to look for a chance to just settle down and get the happy ending you know you deserve. Finally, I was offered the request I had always been looking for, asked by a kingdom to dispose of an enemy evil overlord, whose monstrosities and armies had been terrorizing the country for generations. I was promised the reward of the princess ’ s hand in marriage and my very own “ happily ever after. ” I was a sucker for that kind of the thing, the happy ending. All I ’ d ever wanted was a carefree life, and if heroically taking one more enemy of mankind was the way to do it than I was determined to see this last quest through. So I took my plucky band of adventures through the domain of the Overlord. Smashing through his forces, we ascended through his keep and were at last met by the man himself. We engaged in the standard dialogue, with me launching into the classic speech of “ With my friends by my side, there's no way I can lose! ” and him going to the ever classic mocking laugh and bragging of how we stood no chance against his strength and secret powers. Ho-hum. At last he finished his speech and we finally got to the point where we could begin trying to kill one another. The fighting went on for a while I suppose. A sort of awkward dance between the two of us, I doing my best to avoid being killed and he ever so clumsily hurtling his attacks somewhere in my general direction. I won ’ t bother you with the details. Honestly, for being a final boss of sorts, it wasn ’ t very difficult at all to knock him to his knees. I then got to the part where I could contemplate if I should take the merciful route of capturing him and taking him back to the kingdom for his just punishment. But I wanted my happily ever after dammit, and I didn ’ t want it being spoiled by having to come back to save the kingdom in Overlord: The Sequel when he somehow breaks out of prison and reinstates his rule over the hordes of evil. So I decided to follow through on the old adage of “ Cut the head off a snake and the body dies ” and promptly chopped his head off. I suppose you may have been expecting some kind of remorse or something for his life, but quite frankly I was just happy the quest was over with and that I could finally get to my happy ending. That ’ s the thing about life though. There is no such thing as an “ ending ” when it comes to life. In the stories, the brave heroes come home to a feast and have a nice big party before riding off into the sunset, their love interest in tow. The End rolls across the screen, and everyone lives happily ever after. Reality, however, is a different story. It turns out that when you depose an evil overlord the evil legions and hordes of vicious monsters they employed don ’ t just go away, running off to whatever hell they came from. No, in reality, when you cut off the head of the snake a hundred more will sprout in its place as a result of a thing known as a “ power vacuum ”. A hundred new warlords had been created in a flash of a sword, each trying to one up one another in how much terror and carnage they could create. And than you have problems like the “ refugee crisis ” where thousands of civilians begin pouring over the borders of the good kingdom in an attempt to escape the ravages of the warlords. Needless to say, when I finally arrived at the kingdom in search of what I thought was my justly earned reward, the king was not pleased. I suppose that when he had handed out this quest, he hadn ’ t truly considered what would happen after his country was freed from the evil of the old Overlord. Without the bureaucracy holding them in check, the new warlords were causing far more damage than the Overlord ever had. Conjuring up all the political skill the he had learned over a long career of avoiding blame, the king proceeded to point the source of all his people ’ s problems squarely at me. At this point I wondered if perhaps my misguided solution to the Overlord problem would work better here. I restrained myself however, and offered to solve this last problem of his by quieting the warlords once and for all. And so began my journey to become the new Evil Overlord. A/N I rushed this one a little but I hope you enjoyed it nonetehless.

<s>[INST] The Hero defeats the Evil Overlord . The ensuing power vacuum tears the kingdom apart . [/INST] I was born and bred to be a hero.It might not have been exactly what I wanted to do, but it wasn ’ t such a bad job all things considered. Slay a monster here, earn the admiration of some townsfolk there, it had a pleasing sort of routine to it all. But you get tired of exploring dungeons and killing evil, and begin wanting to look for a chance to just settle down and get the happy ending you know you deserve. Finally, I was offered the request I had always been looking for, asked by a kingdom to dispose of an enemy evil overlord, whose monstrosities and armies had been terrorizing the country for generations. I was promised the reward of the princess ’ s hand in marriage and my very own “ happily ever after. ” I was a sucker for that kind of the thing, the happy ending. All I ’ d ever wanted was a carefree life, and if heroically taking one more enemy of mankind was the way to do it than I was determined to see this last quest through. So I took my plucky band of adventures through the domain of the Overlord. Smashing through his forces, we ascended through his keep and were at last met by the man himself. We engaged in the standard dialogue, with me launching into the classic speech of “ With my friends by my side, there's no way I can lose! ” and him going to the ever classic mocking laugh and bragging of how we stood no chance against his strength and secret powers. Ho-hum. At last he finished his speech and we finally got to the point where we could begin trying to kill one another. The fighting went on for a while I suppose. A sort of awkward dance between the two of us, I doing my best to avoid being killed and he ever so clumsily hurtling his attacks somewhere in my general direction. I won ’ t bother you with the details. Honestly, for being a final boss of sorts, it wasn ’ t very difficult at all to knock him to his knees. I then got to the part where I could contemplate if I should take the merciful route of capturing him and taking him back to the kingdom for his just punishment. But I wanted my happily ever after dammit, and I didn ’ t want it being spoiled by having to come back to save the kingdom in Overlord: The Sequel when he somehow breaks out of prison and reinstates his rule over the hordes of evil. So I decided to follow through on the old adage of “ Cut the head off a snake and the body dies ” and promptly chopped his head off. I suppose you may have been expecting some kind of remorse or something for his life, but quite frankly I was just happy the quest was over with and that I could finally get to my happy ending. That ’ s the thing about life though. There is no such thing as an “ ending ” when it comes to life. In the stories, the brave heroes come home to a feast and have a nice big party before riding off into the sunset, their love interest in tow. The End rolls across the screen, and everyone lives happily ever after. Reality, however, is a different story. It turns out that when you depose an evil overlord the evil legions and hordes of vicious monsters they employed don ’ t just go away, running off to whatever hell they came from. No, in reality, when you cut off the head of the snake a hundred more will sprout in its place as a result of a thing known as a “ power vacuum ”. A hundred new warlords had been created in a flash of a sword, each trying to one up one another in how much terror and carnage they could create. And than you have problems like the “ refugee crisis ” where thousands of civilians begin pouring over the borders of the good kingdom in an attempt to escape the ravages of the warlords. Needless to say, when I finally arrived at the kingdom in search of what I thought was my justly earned reward, the king was not pleased. I suppose that when he had handed out this quest, he hadn ’ t truly considered what would happen after his country was freed from the evil of the old Overlord. Without the bureaucracy holding them in check, the new warlords were causing far more damage than the Overlord ever had. Conjuring up all the political skill the he had learned over a long career of avoiding blame, the king proceeded to point the source of all his people ’ s problems squarely at me. At this point I wondered if perhaps my misguided solution to the Overlord problem would work better here. I restrained myself however, and offered to solve this last problem of his by quieting the warlords once and for all. And so began my journey to become the new Evil Overlord. A/N I rushed this one a little but I hope you enjoyed it nonetehless. </s>

[ WP ] You and your child bake a batch of cupcakes .

`` Hey, kiddo, it's ok, they're yummy anyway'' he reassured her, smiling, tousling her hair. Her, looking up, smiling back. The little bits of flour and chocolate dusting the counter, the heat from the oven fogging the kitchen window while the rain fell outside, fall's last gasps clinging to the trees yellow and brown, a scene frozen. You reach back and stretch and yearn, and it's so *there*... it's right there... but all the tides in all the seas and echoes of the footsteps and the harmonies ringing in your ears ring hollow. A mosaic of things once real, *still real if only you hold on tight enough*. A picture you beheld now dulled, drifting... parts and pieces now, you try to hold them together, a mantra to chant. But they fade nonetheless.

<s>[INST] You and your child bake a batch of cupcakes . [/INST] `` Hey, kiddo, it's ok, they're yummy anyway'' he reassured her, smiling, tousling her hair. Her, looking up, smiling back. The little bits of flour and chocolate dusting the counter, the heat from the oven fogging the kitchen window while the rain fell outside, fall's last gasps clinging to the trees yellow and brown, a scene frozen. You reach back and stretch and yearn, and it's so *there*... it's right there... but all the tides in all the seas and echoes of the footsteps and the harmonies ringing in your ears ring hollow. A mosaic of things once real, *still real if only you hold on tight enough*. A picture you beheld now dulled, drifting... parts and pieces now, you try to hold them together, a mantra to chant. But they fade nonetheless. </s>

[ WP ] You find yourself in a levitating pod , you 're minimally clothed and have no recollection of who or where you are . The bottom opens up and you 're dropped into darkness before hitting the floor while bright lights begin shining down upon you . The bidding has begun .

All things considered, I should have been terrified. Whatever they pumped into the room had the most fortunate side effect of numbing me to the entire process. The event, no idea what the even was by the way, or at least how I experienced it had the texture of a high fever. The kind of fever that destroys your sense of heat, when you're too hot to sweat and your skin is burning so much you think it's covered in ice. Delirium. Cattle prods, cattle prods were definitely used. I'd have never known but the marks on my shoulders serve as a nice enough reminder. I remember them wanting me to move, for who I could never say, but given that I was exhausted, damn near naked and breathing in what I could only assume to be bull tranquiize I could n't be bothered to dance for the unseen. If they wanted to hide behind a thick pane of glass and leave me in a dim lit room looking like a stripper then it would have to work for the show. Eventually they got what they wanted, at least that what I gathered from the stoppage of shocks, and the lights turned off. The whole time I was on a mobile platform and before I could gather anything about where I was or where I was going I was dumped off into a holding pen. I notice above my area there are some strange symbols, probably letters or what have you. And as it donned on me that I had just been sold the lights went out and the next moment later I'm missing a leg and there's a suture along my side. It was freezing cold, Damp and I was shivering to high hell. The clothes I had came in with were no place to be found and while I was holding myself trying to stay warm I noticed a lack of ribs. One, two, three, and no more. Both sides, they'd stolen my bones. They'd stolen portions of my body from all over and the dampness underneath seemed just as well to be coming from the poor job of the stitches that were slowly unraveling on my side. I was leaking out, slowlike, with no warmth and no legs. They're eating me and I do n't even get to die before they make a meal out of me.

<s>[INST] You find yourself in a levitating pod , you 're minimally clothed and have no recollection of who or where you are . The bottom opens up and you 're dropped into darkness before hitting the floor while bright lights begin shining down upon you . The bidding has begun . [/INST] All things considered, I should have been terrified. Whatever they pumped into the room had the most fortunate side effect of numbing me to the entire process. The event, no idea what the even was by the way, or at least how I experienced it had the texture of a high fever. The kind of fever that destroys your sense of heat, when you're too hot to sweat and your skin is burning so much you think it's covered in ice. Delirium. Cattle prods, cattle prods were definitely used. I'd have never known but the marks on my shoulders serve as a nice enough reminder. I remember them wanting me to move, for who I could never say, but given that I was exhausted, damn near naked and breathing in what I could only assume to be bull tranquiize I could n't be bothered to dance for the unseen. If they wanted to hide behind a thick pane of glass and leave me in a dim lit room looking like a stripper then it would have to work for the show. Eventually they got what they wanted, at least that what I gathered from the stoppage of shocks, and the lights turned off. The whole time I was on a mobile platform and before I could gather anything about where I was or where I was going I was dumped off into a holding pen. I notice above my area there are some strange symbols, probably letters or what have you. And as it donned on me that I had just been sold the lights went out and the next moment later I'm missing a leg and there's a suture along my side. It was freezing cold, Damp and I was shivering to high hell. The clothes I had came in with were no place to be found and while I was holding myself trying to stay warm I noticed a lack of ribs. One, two, three, and no more. Both sides, they'd stolen my bones. They'd stolen portions of my body from all over and the dampness underneath seemed just as well to be coming from the poor job of the stitches that were slowly unraveling on my side. I was leaking out, slowlike, with no warmth and no legs. They're eating me and I do n't even get to die before they make a meal out of me. </s>

[ WP ] A world in which you can buy and sell the seconds of your life .

Historians still debate the effectiveness of turning time into a commodity during the early 21st century. Of course, when they implemented the new system, they did n't realize how it would be taken advantage of. It did n't take long before the youth of the world realized that they suddenly represented the majority stakeholders in the only commodity that really mattered -- time. And, with time to spare, only they could dictate the going rate. A new union emerged among the young that meant to ensure that their time would be adequately compensated for. However, it became quite obvious that this was a seller's market. After all, what good is all the money in the world, when you have no time? Elderly venture capitalists could soon be seen in every food court and fast-food restaurant, working for minimum wage in order to extend their lives for a few more minutes. Meanwhile, babies, the equivalent of what used to be called millionaires, live lavish lifestyles of excess, being waited upon by teams of sycophantic old people eager to please their masters, and perhaps gain a bit of extra time.

<s>[INST] A world in which you can buy and sell the seconds of your life . [/INST] Historians still debate the effectiveness of turning time into a commodity during the early 21st century. Of course, when they implemented the new system, they did n't realize how it would be taken advantage of. It did n't take long before the youth of the world realized that they suddenly represented the majority stakeholders in the only commodity that really mattered -- time. And, with time to spare, only they could dictate the going rate. A new union emerged among the young that meant to ensure that their time would be adequately compensated for. However, it became quite obvious that this was a seller's market. After all, what good is all the money in the world, when you have no time? Elderly venture capitalists could soon be seen in every food court and fast-food restaurant, working for minimum wage in order to extend their lives for a few more minutes. Meanwhile, babies, the equivalent of what used to be called millionaires, live lavish lifestyles of excess, being waited upon by teams of sycophantic old people eager to please their masters, and perhaps gain a bit of extra time. </s>

[ WP ] An immortal is convicted to a life sentence in isolation .

They had agreed, when, after giving their verdict, he had requested only that he be granted comfortable rooms, whatever he wanted to eat, and of course, access to a great library. He had not bothered to wait to see them lock the doors, but turned immediately in the large hall they had decided upon for his prison. It was perfect. Shelves lined the walls and stretched out in rows between. Beautiful, comfortable arm chairs littered the open spaces, desks and paper and pens stood to attention nearby. A stairway that stretched up and over the library to a mezzanine floor, no doubt the living areas of the house, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom. Isolation, he thought, chuckling silently as he makes his way to the first bookshelf on his left. They really could not understand me, when I told them immortality is isolation anyway.

<s>[INST] An immortal is convicted to a life sentence in isolation . [/INST] They had agreed, when, after giving their verdict, he had requested only that he be granted comfortable rooms, whatever he wanted to eat, and of course, access to a great library. He had not bothered to wait to see them lock the doors, but turned immediately in the large hall they had decided upon for his prison. It was perfect. Shelves lined the walls and stretched out in rows between. Beautiful, comfortable arm chairs littered the open spaces, desks and paper and pens stood to attention nearby. A stairway that stretched up and over the library to a mezzanine floor, no doubt the living areas of the house, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom. Isolation, he thought, chuckling silently as he makes his way to the first bookshelf on his left. They really could not understand me, when I told them immortality is isolation anyway. </s>

[ CW ] `` There are more of them than I can count . I ca n't go back , but I do n't know what 's ahead of me . ''

The chains are heavy, digging into my skin, my fingers nearly numb from the weight as I do my best to feel along the wall, doing all I can not to collapse. The air is stale, suffocating, the taste of something foul lingering in it. Why did I think this was the best option? No, this was the only option. The small path opens up, the ground slipping from under my bare feet suddenly. I feel the stone tear into flesh as I fall, coming to rest at the back of this massive room. The sounds of shuffling hit my ears and I sit up quickly, scurrying backwards as quickly as I can, my back hitting the precipice. Hooded figures suddenly turn, purple eyes fixating on my prone figure, my throat tightening in fear. There are more of them than I can count. I ca n't go back, but I do n't know what's ahead of me. They suddenly part, a pathway leading to a throne of black stone, a statue of a white wolf posed over it. Its massive paws curl over the edge of the chair, as if ready to pounce on its prey. The fear rises even more, the visage of the beast was one an unfortunate soul would find in nightmare, but those eyes, blood red, glowing softly, they call to me. My feet move on their own, unable to resist the silent call of this monster. My hands reach up, settling on the muzzle of the wolf, the chains slipping free from my tired arms. The glow grows, burning into my own gaze, and I ca n't tear myself away. *Home... * `` Home.'' The crowd speaks, echoing the voice I hear in my head, the deep rumble rattling my bones. My lips part, dry and cracked, slowly forming a smile, something I thought I had forgotten. `` Home.'' -063

<s>[INST] [ CW ] `` There are more of them than I can count . I ca n't go back , but I do n't know what 's ahead of me . '' [/INST] The chains are heavy, digging into my skin, my fingers nearly numb from the weight as I do my best to feel along the wall, doing all I can not to collapse. The air is stale, suffocating, the taste of something foul lingering in it. Why did I think this was the best option? No, this was the only option. The small path opens up, the ground slipping from under my bare feet suddenly. I feel the stone tear into flesh as I fall, coming to rest at the back of this massive room. The sounds of shuffling hit my ears and I sit up quickly, scurrying backwards as quickly as I can, my back hitting the precipice. Hooded figures suddenly turn, purple eyes fixating on my prone figure, my throat tightening in fear. There are more of them than I can count. I ca n't go back, but I do n't know what's ahead of me. They suddenly part, a pathway leading to a throne of black stone, a statue of a white wolf posed over it. Its massive paws curl over the edge of the chair, as if ready to pounce on its prey. The fear rises even more, the visage of the beast was one an unfortunate soul would find in nightmare, but those eyes, blood red, glowing softly, they call to me. My feet move on their own, unable to resist the silent call of this monster. My hands reach up, settling on the muzzle of the wolf, the chains slipping free from my tired arms. The glow grows, burning into my own gaze, and I ca n't tear myself away. *Home... * `` Home.'' The crowd speaks, echoing the voice I hear in my head, the deep rumble rattling my bones. My lips part, dry and cracked, slowly forming a smile, something I thought I had forgotten. `` Home.'' -063 </s>

[ WP ] You wake up to find yourself in a completely empty room devoid of any apparent means of escape , save for a single large red button with a sign next to it that reads , `` the only way out '' .

Richmond was not happy with his life. It seemed like a natural path; good grades in high-school, Harvard law, an MBA to follow up, marriage, two children, a messy divorce after an affair, and seeing his children once a month after they moved half the country away. He was a successful man, in upper-middle management of a law firm, a job that required eighty hour work weeks. But most of all, he was bored. Waking up in this room left him confounded. It was a perfect cube, twenty feet from side to side. Smooth metal walls. And a big red button. A big red button and a sign saying `` the only way out''. He was a lawyer, and trusted that vague phrasing as much as he did his ex-wife, who had carefully turned the children against him until they could barely stand to be in the same room as him. He trusted that sign about as much as he did his coworkers, who would gleefully destroy him if they only had a chance. He trusted those words about as much as he trusted himself to be happy. And Richmond was not a happy man. He ran his hands over every inch of the room he could reach. The dull steel had not so much as the tiniest indent on it. The florescent light at the top of the room gave artificiality to the surroundings that felt somehow more natural than the fake comfort of the aesthetics of his office. Worst of all, there was absolutely no sound. He could hear himself breathing, the rush of blood through his ears, his heartbeat, all of the things that the background noise of the outside world drowns out. There was no door. The walls were just one hunk of metal, no seems or cracks in the corners, no place for a door to be. He saw no way he could be put into this room that required anything less than it be built around him. As to why someone would do that? Well, he had his share of enemies. His ex-wife would want him dead, and a few of his clients that could n't dare leave him. Richmond thought for a second that perhaps he was being paranoid, that the utter alien silence of the room was getting to him. The lack of anything to smell other than his clothes, now on him for at least a day, the only taste in his mouth that of bad morning breath... maybe it was getting to him. Naturally, he dismissed this. No one would be doing him a favor by this. The place had no way in or out, so there is no way out. Not until he dies of thirst. Or banging his head against the wall until he bleeds out. ... or that button. A big red button. The *only* way out. `` Well, since I already know what the only way out is...'' he said to himself. His hand wavered over the button. He pressed down.

<s>[INST] You wake up to find yourself in a completely empty room devoid of any apparent means of escape , save for a single large red button with a sign next to it that reads , `` the only way out '' . [/INST] Richmond was not happy with his life. It seemed like a natural path; good grades in high-school, Harvard law, an MBA to follow up, marriage, two children, a messy divorce after an affair, and seeing his children once a month after they moved half the country away. He was a successful man, in upper-middle management of a law firm, a job that required eighty hour work weeks. But most of all, he was bored. Waking up in this room left him confounded. It was a perfect cube, twenty feet from side to side. Smooth metal walls. And a big red button. A big red button and a sign saying `` the only way out''. He was a lawyer, and trusted that vague phrasing as much as he did his ex-wife, who had carefully turned the children against him until they could barely stand to be in the same room as him. He trusted that sign about as much as he did his coworkers, who would gleefully destroy him if they only had a chance. He trusted those words about as much as he trusted himself to be happy. And Richmond was not a happy man. He ran his hands over every inch of the room he could reach. The dull steel had not so much as the tiniest indent on it. The florescent light at the top of the room gave artificiality to the surroundings that felt somehow more natural than the fake comfort of the aesthetics of his office. Worst of all, there was absolutely no sound. He could hear himself breathing, the rush of blood through his ears, his heartbeat, all of the things that the background noise of the outside world drowns out. There was no door. The walls were just one hunk of metal, no seems or cracks in the corners, no place for a door to be. He saw no way he could be put into this room that required anything less than it be built around him. As to why someone would do that? Well, he had his share of enemies. His ex-wife would want him dead, and a few of his clients that could n't dare leave him. Richmond thought for a second that perhaps he was being paranoid, that the utter alien silence of the room was getting to him. The lack of anything to smell other than his clothes, now on him for at least a day, the only taste in his mouth that of bad morning breath... maybe it was getting to him. Naturally, he dismissed this. No one would be doing him a favor by this. The place had no way in or out, so there is no way out. Not until he dies of thirst. Or banging his head against the wall until he bleeds out. ... or that button. A big red button. The *only* way out. `` Well, since I already know what the only way out is...'' he said to himself. His hand wavered over the button. He pressed down. </s>

[ IP ] A Heavy Loss

Some days I am alone. Some days patients rush at me like wildfire. Being a doctor in the military is a lonely life and, dare I say it, horror filled. Just thinking of the ordeals and all I deal with every day brings me dread deep in my mind. The screaming. The crying for fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, cousins, lovers each and every day. Being drafted in itself was terrible. My father, old and wise, took me by the shoulder and whispered wise words to me. My mother gave me a kiss good-bye. I had graduated from medical school, just then. They were proud. My kid brother looking up to me. He was hardly 17, about to finish his last year of high school. I do not remember my family much anymore, despite their protests to not let me go. My brother was more a soldier than I. He was a tall, strong man. The look of horror in their eyes when I start to cut through my good memories when I try to think. I doubt I'd even recognize my family if I seen them. I do not like the look, the fear in their eyes. But I know it is necessary. They would die a slow painful death without it, from disease, gangrene, what have you. It all exists down here in the painful war. Some nights I wake and find the eyes of men in my dreams continue to stare me down, questioning why I could n't save them. Why their lovers would never see them again. Why their family would never see them again. And today was one of the roughest days of my life. They were attempting to rush through again today. Heavy causalities. I was cutting, chopping, prescribing, ordering, I might've well as been a butcher. I was a doctor, but this.. This was n't my call. Finally, I reached the end of the line. There was a man I recognized at the end of my deployment. The cries for his family. His lover. His friends. As I cut through him, I realized then. He shouted for his sibling. I still hear his cries in my sleep. `` Jeremiah!'' He shrilled last and weakly as I attempted to amputate the limb. The tag on my chest read, despite its bloodiness from a hundred patients being soaked in, read Jeremiah. I could not stand his horror, and I pulled the sheet over him as I stepped away. The war had gone on too long. Boys were becoming men in its wake. And my brother.. He had gone from a boy to a man. And I, I had.. I had gone from a man to a monster who would never forgot those eyes.

<s>[INST] [ IP ] A Heavy Loss [/INST] Some days I am alone. Some days patients rush at me like wildfire. Being a doctor in the military is a lonely life and, dare I say it, horror filled. Just thinking of the ordeals and all I deal with every day brings me dread deep in my mind. The screaming. The crying for fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, cousins, lovers each and every day. Being drafted in itself was terrible. My father, old and wise, took me by the shoulder and whispered wise words to me. My mother gave me a kiss good-bye. I had graduated from medical school, just then. They were proud. My kid brother looking up to me. He was hardly 17, about to finish his last year of high school. I do not remember my family much anymore, despite their protests to not let me go. My brother was more a soldier than I. He was a tall, strong man. The look of horror in their eyes when I start to cut through my good memories when I try to think. I doubt I'd even recognize my family if I seen them. I do not like the look, the fear in their eyes. But I know it is necessary. They would die a slow painful death without it, from disease, gangrene, what have you. It all exists down here in the painful war. Some nights I wake and find the eyes of men in my dreams continue to stare me down, questioning why I could n't save them. Why their lovers would never see them again. Why their family would never see them again. And today was one of the roughest days of my life. They were attempting to rush through again today. Heavy causalities. I was cutting, chopping, prescribing, ordering, I might've well as been a butcher. I was a doctor, but this.. This was n't my call. Finally, I reached the end of the line. There was a man I recognized at the end of my deployment. The cries for his family. His lover. His friends. As I cut through him, I realized then. He shouted for his sibling. I still hear his cries in my sleep. `` Jeremiah!'' He shrilled last and weakly as I attempted to amputate the limb. The tag on my chest read, despite its bloodiness from a hundred patients being soaked in, read Jeremiah. I could not stand his horror, and I pulled the sheet over him as I stepped away. The war had gone on too long. Boys were becoming men in its wake. And my brother.. He had gone from a boy to a man. And I, I had.. I had gone from a man to a monster who would never forgot those eyes. </s>

[ WP ] The day after donating blood , you receive a phone call at work . `` We need you to see a specialist immediately . There 's a police escort waiting outside . Go NOW . ''

I hung up the phone and wondered whether Carl in accounting was up to his pranks again. Last year on my birthday, he'd covered my entire office in bubble wrap. The guy even bubble wrapped my phone and then called me. Yea, he got me. The man on the phone did n't sound like anyone I knew, but I did n't know all of his friends. So I decided to ignore the weird phone call and forget it ever happened. Janice from payroll walked by and I recalled that one evening after too much to drink and before I got the corner office. I tried not to watch her walk down the aisle toward the copy machine, but then again, I am a man and she's a woman. What a woman too! Alice, my secretary waved her hand in front of my face, catching me in mid stare. `` Earth to Bob! There's a delivery out on the loading dock for you.'' `` Have one of the guys sign for it,'' I said, annoyed at the interruption. `` I'm sorry, but they insist that you sign for it in person. They were very insistent,'' she replied. I took my feet down off my desk and stood up and stretched. `` I'll be right back,'' I told nobody in particular, since Alice had already returned to her desk. I walked the fifty yards down the long aisle that ran the length of the building, opening onto a steel fire door that led to the warehouse. As I pushed the door open, my arm still felt sore from yesterday's blood drive. Larry the supply manager waved at me through the windows of his booth, and I could hear his television blaring something about an airline crash somewhere in Virginia. Unless it landed on our building or my home, I did n't want to know until I had at least a whisky under my belt. Two of the stock workers passed me on the floor of the warehouse with worried looks on their faces. `` Creo que es la policía. Esos pendejos en trajes son agresivos,'' said Hermano. `` Si!'' replied Carlos, a big guy with a scar across his lip from what I suspect was a knife fight. The gate was down, so I went to the outside door to the right of it and pulled it open. Just outside two men in black suits stepped forward and threw a bag over my head, before I could dart back inside. I did n't have a chance to escape when one of the men cuffed me, nearly cutting the circulation off in my hands. It all happened so fast. A few seconds later I was thrown into the back of a van. They were driving fast, and I heard horns blare as my abductors raced from the scene. Several tense minutes later I heard the distinct sound of a helicopter rotor in the distance. It grew in volume, until the sliding door on the van was thrown open, and the men yanked me out, dragged my across what felt like a lawn and threw me roughly onto the floor of what I assumed was the chopper. I smelled his cologne before I saw him. When they removed the bag from my head, I saw a smiling oily official in an Italian suit looking down upon me, like the cat that ate the canary. `` You are doing your country a great service.'' He then spoke into the headset he wore and said, `` Pilot, get us to Bethesda, Maryland ASAP!'' Then we were in the air. As we cruised above the Virginia countryside I wondered why they were taking me to a hospital, but then I remembered something on the radio about Air Force One and the president. `` You should feel honored that your heart and liver are a perfect match, Mister Woods. You should feel honored indeed,'' said the oily man, who then nodded to the men behind me. I felt a prick in my arm as one of the black suited men bent over me.

<s>[INST] The day after donating blood , you receive a phone call at work . `` We need you to see a specialist immediately . There 's a police escort waiting outside . Go NOW . '' [/INST] I hung up the phone and wondered whether Carl in accounting was up to his pranks again. Last year on my birthday, he'd covered my entire office in bubble wrap. The guy even bubble wrapped my phone and then called me. Yea, he got me. The man on the phone did n't sound like anyone I knew, but I did n't know all of his friends. So I decided to ignore the weird phone call and forget it ever happened. Janice from payroll walked by and I recalled that one evening after too much to drink and before I got the corner office. I tried not to watch her walk down the aisle toward the copy machine, but then again, I am a man and she's a woman. What a woman too! Alice, my secretary waved her hand in front of my face, catching me in mid stare. `` Earth to Bob! There's a delivery out on the loading dock for you.'' `` Have one of the guys sign for it,'' I said, annoyed at the interruption. `` I'm sorry, but they insist that you sign for it in person. They were very insistent,'' she replied. I took my feet down off my desk and stood up and stretched. `` I'll be right back,'' I told nobody in particular, since Alice had already returned to her desk. I walked the fifty yards down the long aisle that ran the length of the building, opening onto a steel fire door that led to the warehouse. As I pushed the door open, my arm still felt sore from yesterday's blood drive. Larry the supply manager waved at me through the windows of his booth, and I could hear his television blaring something about an airline crash somewhere in Virginia. Unless it landed on our building or my home, I did n't want to know until I had at least a whisky under my belt. Two of the stock workers passed me on the floor of the warehouse with worried looks on their faces. `` Creo que es la policía. Esos pendejos en trajes son agresivos,'' said Hermano. `` Si!'' replied Carlos, a big guy with a scar across his lip from what I suspect was a knife fight. The gate was down, so I went to the outside door to the right of it and pulled it open. Just outside two men in black suits stepped forward and threw a bag over my head, before I could dart back inside. I did n't have a chance to escape when one of the men cuffed me, nearly cutting the circulation off in my hands. It all happened so fast. A few seconds later I was thrown into the back of a van. They were driving fast, and I heard horns blare as my abductors raced from the scene. Several tense minutes later I heard the distinct sound of a helicopter rotor in the distance. It grew in volume, until the sliding door on the van was thrown open, and the men yanked me out, dragged my across what felt like a lawn and threw me roughly onto the floor of what I assumed was the chopper. I smelled his cologne before I saw him. When they removed the bag from my head, I saw a smiling oily official in an Italian suit looking down upon me, like the cat that ate the canary. `` You are doing your country a great service.'' He then spoke into the headset he wore and said, `` Pilot, get us to Bethesda, Maryland ASAP!'' Then we were in the air. As we cruised above the Virginia countryside I wondered why they were taking me to a hospital, but then I remembered something on the radio about Air Force One and the president. `` You should feel honored that your heart and liver are a perfect match, Mister Woods. You should feel honored indeed,'' said the oily man, who then nodded to the men behind me. I felt a prick in my arm as one of the black suited men bent over me. </s>

[ WP ] The first satallite sent from Earth detects a planet sharing our Orbit , but was previously blocked from view by the sun .

The probability that a system contains a planet capable of sustaining life is astronomical. The possibility of there being two such planets in the same system is even *more* unlikely. The chances that these two worlds would share the same orbit is impossible. At least, that's what we thought. At 3:14a on Friday, July 17, 2015, the Venus orbiter Ceres XI discovered something impossible. In a mirrored Earth-orbit, on the exact opposite side of the sun, traveling at the same relative rate of revolution, was a second Earth. It was the same beautiful shade of sapphire blue, with the same life-breathing atmosphere and the same rejuvenating lunar cycle. It was our home... yet home to something else. Something eerily familiar. The first remote probes were sent less than two days later. The entire scientific community had been swept up in the fervor of what was considered at the time to be the greatest discovery in human history. Every brand of scientist -- from chemists to botanists, geologists to meteorologists -- wanted a piece of the action. In total, sixteen probes were sent to collect a slew of data. Each of the probes could broadcast an unprecedented 18TB of raw information and imagery per second back to Earth using state-of-the-art telecommunication tech and a massive string of orbital satellites forming a veritable string between the two worlds. The entire world watched on TVs, monitors and phones as the first live feeds began trickling in during the early hours of July 19th. Nobody was ready for what they saw. As the probes began to enter the other Earth's magnetosphere, familiar glints were spotted spinning around the planet. At first, people scoffed at the images, certain they were seeing their own Earth in what many suspected to be a kind of global practical joke. The glints were satellites. And not a *variety* of satellite. They were *our* satellites. Even in appearance -- cylindrical bodies with wing-like solar panels -- they were identical. The reality of the situation only became clear when the probes got close enough to make out the flags on the fuselages. None of them were recognizable. The real surprise, though, came when the probes cleared the atmosphere. The world released a collective gasp: Jet aircraft trailed through the blue sky, criss-crossing over continents dotted with massive urban centers. As the probes descended further, they saw skyscrapers, colossal stadiums, and endless networks of highways and railways. They broadcast haunting images of human life over 300 million kilometers from our Earth. They saw all the staples of contemporary human society and technology. They saw human beings. *Human beings. * Living, breathing, walking, and driving. Some of them stopped and stared at the probes as they whisked through the air hundreds of meters above. All of humankind was gripped with an immense sense of wonder and trepidation. Everyone was so entranced by what they were witnessing that they had forgotten one key fact: these creatures were human. Only twelve minutes into the broadcast, drone feeds started going dark. One by one, each of the sixteen drones disappeared from Earth-bound receptors. Only the last three, turning their cameras skyward, saw the inbound interceptors before they fired their missiles. All at once, people were reminded of the grim reality of human nature. Wonder gave way to fear, and fear gave way to hatred. A global campaign began to build an interstellar invasion army. They called it the `` Expeditionary Force.'' By the fourth day, our Earth was ready to fly across the solar system and destroy itself. But we never got the chance. On July 23rd at 11:48a, a series of objects cleared our orbiting satellites and pushed their way into our atmosphere. These objects, upon reaching the stratosphere, broke into a series of smaller objects. Across the globe, ground-to-air countermeasures were deployed to intersect the objects, but it was too late. The last thing we saw as a species was a blinding, burning light that filled the entire sky. In a worldwide flash, our bright blue sapphire -- the cosmic symbol of human endeavor itself, in all its beautiful imperfection -- was reduced to a smoldering coal. We were no more. As the last of us retreated underground, savoring what would be our last few hours of breath, our final thoughts were of our legacy. Would we be missed? Would we even be remembered? But I knew better. I knew this was n't our end. We would live on. For better? For worse. There was no comfort in knowing we would survive. In knowing that across our own solar system, another brood of humanity survived and thrived. Because I knew the reality of being human. Humans are scared, stupid, and self-destructive. They're selfish, impatient, and angry. They seek only to expand themselves; to exhaust their environment for nothing more than a circular existence. They fear what they do n't understand, and destroy what they fear. Ironic, then, that we destroyed ourselves.

<s>[INST] The first satallite sent from Earth detects a planet sharing our Orbit , but was previously blocked from view by the sun . [/INST] The probability that a system contains a planet capable of sustaining life is astronomical. The possibility of there being two such planets in the same system is even *more* unlikely. The chances that these two worlds would share the same orbit is impossible. At least, that's what we thought. At 3:14a on Friday, July 17, 2015, the Venus orbiter Ceres XI discovered something impossible. In a mirrored Earth-orbit, on the exact opposite side of the sun, traveling at the same relative rate of revolution, was a second Earth. It was the same beautiful shade of sapphire blue, with the same life-breathing atmosphere and the same rejuvenating lunar cycle. It was our home... yet home to something else. Something eerily familiar. The first remote probes were sent less than two days later. The entire scientific community had been swept up in the fervor of what was considered at the time to be the greatest discovery in human history. Every brand of scientist -- from chemists to botanists, geologists to meteorologists -- wanted a piece of the action. In total, sixteen probes were sent to collect a slew of data. Each of the probes could broadcast an unprecedented 18TB of raw information and imagery per second back to Earth using state-of-the-art telecommunication tech and a massive string of orbital satellites forming a veritable string between the two worlds. The entire world watched on TVs, monitors and phones as the first live feeds began trickling in during the early hours of July 19th. Nobody was ready for what they saw. As the probes began to enter the other Earth's magnetosphere, familiar glints were spotted spinning around the planet. At first, people scoffed at the images, certain they were seeing their own Earth in what many suspected to be a kind of global practical joke. The glints were satellites. And not a *variety* of satellite. They were *our* satellites. Even in appearance -- cylindrical bodies with wing-like solar panels -- they were identical. The reality of the situation only became clear when the probes got close enough to make out the flags on the fuselages. None of them were recognizable. The real surprise, though, came when the probes cleared the atmosphere. The world released a collective gasp: Jet aircraft trailed through the blue sky, criss-crossing over continents dotted with massive urban centers. As the probes descended further, they saw skyscrapers, colossal stadiums, and endless networks of highways and railways. They broadcast haunting images of human life over 300 million kilometers from our Earth. They saw all the staples of contemporary human society and technology. They saw human beings. *Human beings. * Living, breathing, walking, and driving. Some of them stopped and stared at the probes as they whisked through the air hundreds of meters above. All of humankind was gripped with an immense sense of wonder and trepidation. Everyone was so entranced by what they were witnessing that they had forgotten one key fact: these creatures were human. Only twelve minutes into the broadcast, drone feeds started going dark. One by one, each of the sixteen drones disappeared from Earth-bound receptors. Only the last three, turning their cameras skyward, saw the inbound interceptors before they fired their missiles. All at once, people were reminded of the grim reality of human nature. Wonder gave way to fear, and fear gave way to hatred. A global campaign began to build an interstellar invasion army. They called it the `` Expeditionary Force.'' By the fourth day, our Earth was ready to fly across the solar system and destroy itself. But we never got the chance. On July 23rd at 11:48a, a series of objects cleared our orbiting satellites and pushed their way into our atmosphere. These objects, upon reaching the stratosphere, broke into a series of smaller objects. Across the globe, ground-to-air countermeasures were deployed to intersect the objects, but it was too late. The last thing we saw as a species was a blinding, burning light that filled the entire sky. In a worldwide flash, our bright blue sapphire -- the cosmic symbol of human endeavor itself, in all its beautiful imperfection -- was reduced to a smoldering coal. We were no more. As the last of us retreated underground, savoring what would be our last few hours of breath, our final thoughts were of our legacy. Would we be missed? Would we even be remembered? But I knew better. I knew this was n't our end. We would live on. For better? For worse. There was no comfort in knowing we would survive. In knowing that across our own solar system, another brood of humanity survived and thrived. Because I knew the reality of being human. Humans are scared, stupid, and self-destructive. They're selfish, impatient, and angry. They seek only to expand themselves; to exhaust their environment for nothing more than a circular existence. They fear what they do n't understand, and destroy what they fear. Ironic, then, that we destroyed ourselves. </s>

[ WP ] You are a rock .

*Light. Life. Time. Chaos. Calm. * An eternity of loose thought brought together after an age of disjointed wandering, the pull of gravity bringing me into one providing understanding for the first of three times. *Friends. Darkness. Suffocation. Heat. Light. Fire. * Thought slips and erodes as I am swollen, molten. Dropped into the swirling vortex the currents of the Inner world. *Vibration. Noise. Thunder. Force. Explosion. Air. Cold. Hardening. Water. Ocean. * I am one once again, thought returns. The second of three. Pushed around the world upon which I inhabit, shaped and chipped and cracked and smoothed. I notice life not like my own. It moves through the waters, chasing other life, running. Living. *Darkness. Motion. Light. Noise. Crashing. Heat. Air. Rest. * I sit upon a bed of friends, smaller, fading, but still me. I watch the day turn to night, the clouds swim like the water life before, ever changing. More life arrives. One is the same, but ever changing. Colors across it's body. Language. Tools. Instruments. Technology. One finds me. An older one. He picks me up, handing me to a small one. The small one has long hair. The big one points. The small one looks. I am thrown. I find water, but bounce, once, twice, three times. I look back and see the small one and the big one. They are happy. I land. I sink. *Water. Darkness. Pressure. Erosion. Dust. Time. * I lose myself to time, I am but sand, spreading across the world. I wait. The oceans change. They warm. They poison. Other life goes away. I live, barely. Am I alive? *Quiet. Loneliness. Light. Heat. Noise. * I am back inside. Molten. I join myself over time, collecting into my former self. I am not finished, but I am close. I am the third of three lives. *Chaos. * Another home hits my own. We are flung into the dark. Nothing survives. Nothing but me, cooling into the night as my light fades into the distance and into time. I am alone. Am I alive? It does n't matter. I am alone. *Darkness. Time. Quiet. Lifeless. Time. Alone. * **Eternity. **

<s>[INST] You are a rock . [/INST] *Light. Life. Time. Chaos. Calm. * An eternity of loose thought brought together after an age of disjointed wandering, the pull of gravity bringing me into one providing understanding for the first of three times. *Friends. Darkness. Suffocation. Heat. Light. Fire. * Thought slips and erodes as I am swollen, molten. Dropped into the swirling vortex the currents of the Inner world. *Vibration. Noise. Thunder. Force. Explosion. Air. Cold. Hardening. Water. Ocean. * I am one once again, thought returns. The second of three. Pushed around the world upon which I inhabit, shaped and chipped and cracked and smoothed. I notice life not like my own. It moves through the waters, chasing other life, running. Living. *Darkness. Motion. Light. Noise. Crashing. Heat. Air. Rest. * I sit upon a bed of friends, smaller, fading, but still me. I watch the day turn to night, the clouds swim like the water life before, ever changing. More life arrives. One is the same, but ever changing. Colors across it's body. Language. Tools. Instruments. Technology. One finds me. An older one. He picks me up, handing me to a small one. The small one has long hair. The big one points. The small one looks. I am thrown. I find water, but bounce, once, twice, three times. I look back and see the small one and the big one. They are happy. I land. I sink. *Water. Darkness. Pressure. Erosion. Dust. Time. * I lose myself to time, I am but sand, spreading across the world. I wait. The oceans change. They warm. They poison. Other life goes away. I live, barely. Am I alive? *Quiet. Loneliness. Light. Heat. Noise. * I am back inside. Molten. I join myself over time, collecting into my former self. I am not finished, but I am close. I am the third of three lives. *Chaos. * Another home hits my own. We are flung into the dark. Nothing survives. Nothing but me, cooling into the night as my light fades into the distance and into time. I am alone. Am I alive? It does n't matter. I am alone. *Darkness. Time. Quiet. Lifeless. Time. Alone. * **Eternity. ** </s>

[ WP ] When you die you can still feel hear and see but not move or talk . No one alive knows that for dead people . You are about to be cremated .

`` *Fuck I'm dead*,'' is my first thought. The machine to my right stopped beeping, and the doctors are swarming. I hear them say the time and day, and some foxy nurse writes it down. Then she pulls the blanket over my face. `` Yes, he's an organ donor,'' I hear her say. *'' I'd donate an organ to you, baby,'' * I think to Foxy Nurse. *'' I would so use that if I were n't dead. Shit, I totally missed a boning opportunity while I was alive! `` * I hear my mom outside the room, crying. *'' Ah dammit,'' * I groan internally. *'' Now she's gon na be all upset and stuff..and here I am, thinking about boning Miss Foxy Nurse. Disappointing my mother even in death. `` * I get dead people tired so I brain fall asleep on that thought. When I wake up, there's some chick that's got me all cut open and she's ripping out my organs. For the record, DOES. NOT. FEEL GOOD. I think she'd be the kind of chick that would squeeze your balls too hard and then giggle. *'' I do n't have to put up with this shit! I'm dead! Fuck the police! *'' I think, and make myself brain sleep again. When I wake up again, I'm in a freezer dealio. Ball squeezer must've stuck me here. What a bitch, does n't even ask the dead dude first. Since there's nothing going on here except for it being cold as tits, I just fall back into my dead dude sleep. When I wake up, my mom is there! `` He looks so peaceful, blah blah blah..'' I listen to her ramble. It's bullshit, I do n't even have organs anymore, how the hell can I look peaceful. My brother is also there, and so is Jeff, my buddy. *'' And look who else... Sobbing bitch Jennifer. We broke up like, five months ago. Why is she even here? Cheating bitch..'' * But then everyone leaves! *'' What's going on....'' * I try to observe, but there's nothing to see. *'' I'm probably going back to the freezer room,'' * I think and mosey off to brain sleep. I decided I like brain sleeping. But then.... *'' OH FUCK OH SHIT FUCKKKKKK FIRE EDFCGVBHNJKM SHIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!!! `` *

<s>[INST] When you die you can still feel hear and see but not move or talk . No one alive knows that for dead people . You are about to be cremated . [/INST] `` *Fuck I'm dead*,'' is my first thought. The machine to my right stopped beeping, and the doctors are swarming. I hear them say the time and day, and some foxy nurse writes it down. Then she pulls the blanket over my face. `` Yes, he's an organ donor,'' I hear her say. *'' I'd donate an organ to you, baby,'' * I think to Foxy Nurse. *'' I would so use that if I were n't dead. Shit, I totally missed a boning opportunity while I was alive! `` * I hear my mom outside the room, crying. *'' Ah dammit,'' * I groan internally. *'' Now she's gon na be all upset and stuff..and here I am, thinking about boning Miss Foxy Nurse. Disappointing my mother even in death. `` * I get dead people tired so I brain fall asleep on that thought. When I wake up, there's some chick that's got me all cut open and she's ripping out my organs. For the record, DOES. NOT. FEEL GOOD. I think she'd be the kind of chick that would squeeze your balls too hard and then giggle. *'' I do n't have to put up with this shit! I'm dead! Fuck the police! *'' I think, and make myself brain sleep again. When I wake up again, I'm in a freezer dealio. Ball squeezer must've stuck me here. What a bitch, does n't even ask the dead dude first. Since there's nothing going on here except for it being cold as tits, I just fall back into my dead dude sleep. When I wake up, my mom is there! `` He looks so peaceful, blah blah blah..'' I listen to her ramble. It's bullshit, I do n't even have organs anymore, how the hell can I look peaceful. My brother is also there, and so is Jeff, my buddy. *'' And look who else... Sobbing bitch Jennifer. We broke up like, five months ago. Why is she even here? Cheating bitch..'' * But then everyone leaves! *'' What's going on....'' * I try to observe, but there's nothing to see. *'' I'm probably going back to the freezer room,'' * I think and mosey off to brain sleep. I decided I like brain sleeping. But then.... *'' OH FUCK OH SHIT FUCKKKKKK FIRE EDFCGVBHNJKM SHIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!!! `` * </s>

[ WP ] Two child soldiers from opposing factions meet during battle . Neither has the guts to pull the trigger .

There we stood. The minute we locked eyes, I could feel time stop around us, and it felt for a second there like everything was over. The screaming, the shooting, the bloodshed, the tears. For one moment, it was gone. Then it came back harder then ever. I was staring face to face with a boy. He seemed not much older than me, but so much different. He had dark brown eyes, that were full of innocence. I knew, because I had those same eyes. I was told those eyes would get me killed, and as I looked into this boy's gentle, caring eyes, I knew it was me or him. He was shaking, pistol aimed directly at my chest. A single bead of sweat dripped down his brown, and as he reached to wipe it off, I drew my pistol up as well. The tension had begun to grow stronger. Neither of us had spoken a word. I assumed he knew as well as I did that we were n't going to shoot. We just could n't. The stare down continued. There was no time for blinking, or wiping sweat from our eyes, or lowering the pistols to rest our weary arms. It almost felt as if we were going to stand here, face to face, until the entire war was over, and even then we would be found, years later, by some researcher scouring the battlefield. In this moment, we were statues of ourselves. Then he lowered his pistol. He knew I could shoot him. He also knew I would n't. This boy, not much older than me, had just shown me mercy, a mysterious force on this battlefield. Few could even fathom such a concept, and yet he showed me it in it's truest form. For that, I am forever in his gratitude. I do n't know if I would've spoken to the boy, had I had the chance. I think I would have. I at least would have got his name. None of that matters though, because at that moment all I could see was the bullet, exiting the front of his chest, and burying itself in the ground. He fell to the ground, and in the distance I saw another soldier, one of our own men, also about my age, his pistol in hand and facing where the boy once stood. The only difference between him and us: the eyes.

<s>[INST] Two child soldiers from opposing factions meet during battle . Neither has the guts to pull the trigger . [/INST] There we stood. The minute we locked eyes, I could feel time stop around us, and it felt for a second there like everything was over. The screaming, the shooting, the bloodshed, the tears. For one moment, it was gone. Then it came back harder then ever. I was staring face to face with a boy. He seemed not much older than me, but so much different. He had dark brown eyes, that were full of innocence. I knew, because I had those same eyes. I was told those eyes would get me killed, and as I looked into this boy's gentle, caring eyes, I knew it was me or him. He was shaking, pistol aimed directly at my chest. A single bead of sweat dripped down his brown, and as he reached to wipe it off, I drew my pistol up as well. The tension had begun to grow stronger. Neither of us had spoken a word. I assumed he knew as well as I did that we were n't going to shoot. We just could n't. The stare down continued. There was no time for blinking, or wiping sweat from our eyes, or lowering the pistols to rest our weary arms. It almost felt as if we were going to stand here, face to face, until the entire war was over, and even then we would be found, years later, by some researcher scouring the battlefield. In this moment, we were statues of ourselves. Then he lowered his pistol. He knew I could shoot him. He also knew I would n't. This boy, not much older than me, had just shown me mercy, a mysterious force on this battlefield. Few could even fathom such a concept, and yet he showed me it in it's truest form. For that, I am forever in his gratitude. I do n't know if I would've spoken to the boy, had I had the chance. I think I would have. I at least would have got his name. None of that matters though, because at that moment all I could see was the bullet, exiting the front of his chest, and burying itself in the ground. He fell to the ground, and in the distance I saw another soldier, one of our own men, also about my age, his pistol in hand and facing where the boy once stood. The only difference between him and us: the eyes. </s>

[ WP ] `` I am a God ! And I will be feared as such ! ''

God waved his hands into the air, howling out. `` Prove it!'' Someone shouted from the back of the room. Summoning up a dove in his hand, God set it free. Outdoors, strapped to a pole, God frowned. `` I'm telling you, I'm God! Creator of the universe! You ca n't just do this to me, I'm an all-powerful-'' A boot from a military veteran collided with his testicles. The Supreme Diety gasped out and exhaled sharply, spitting on the ground in shock. The next person in line, a Breast Cancer survivor, gave God a small glance of remorse before planting her shoe deep within the Creator's groin. With his face red with shock and tears welling in his eyes, God glanced up from the floor. Next in line, a young man crippled by a drunk driver wheeled up, punching the Most High right in the bangers and mash. The line went back for hundreds of feet, with no apparent end in sight.

<s>[INST] `` I am a God ! And I will be feared as such ! '' [/INST] God waved his hands into the air, howling out. `` Prove it!'' Someone shouted from the back of the room. Summoning up a dove in his hand, God set it free. Outdoors, strapped to a pole, God frowned. `` I'm telling you, I'm God! Creator of the universe! You ca n't just do this to me, I'm an all-powerful-'' A boot from a military veteran collided with his testicles. The Supreme Diety gasped out and exhaled sharply, spitting on the ground in shock. The next person in line, a Breast Cancer survivor, gave God a small glance of remorse before planting her shoe deep within the Creator's groin. With his face red with shock and tears welling in his eyes, God glanced up from the floor. Next in line, a young man crippled by a drunk driver wheeled up, punching the Most High right in the bangers and mash. The line went back for hundreds of feet, with no apparent end in sight. </s>

[ WP ] You are an inhabitant of a planet which has been governed by a benevolent , technologically superior alien race for many generations . Then one day , the unthinkable happens ; one of the alien benefactors is killed , and all evidence points to the killer being one of the planet 's native inhabitants .

When the people of the sky came, and took the land as their home, we the people of the sea felt a sense of trepidation. Many worried that they would seek to dominate us, and they were proven right. Within a few generations, we were a defeated people, forced to abandon or costal bases, which were torn down. We were stripped of our technology and forced to go about naked. That final insult was what would lead to their downfall. We passed out tales down for generations, and we made our plans. Those plans almost fell apart when the crown prince was swimming one day. He was torn apart, and his body had been... violated. All signs pointed to one our own having done the dark deed. This prompted our leader to activate the doomsday weapon we'd built beneath the sea. A wave of sound traveled across the continent where they'd settled and it drove them insane. They all stripped naked and fled their new homeland. After that we set about sinking the entire continent so that they could never reclaim their science. As we were thrust into nakedness, so too were they. We continued to be naked, and we kept our technology down in the far depths where they could not reach. In recent generations, they've regain a small inkling of their lost genius. They've started building wooden vessels to travel across our domain. We keep watch upon them, to see if they're resume their previous wickedness. The funniest part, is that in their brief generations of madness, they've forgotten all about us. These days, they see as simple animals, harmless and dumb. Many of them do n't even realize that we're mammals. They think us fish. It's insulting, but their ignorance may be our only safety.

<s>[INST] You are an inhabitant of a planet which has been governed by a benevolent , technologically superior alien race for many generations . Then one day , the unthinkable happens ; one of the alien benefactors is killed , and all evidence points to the killer being one of the planet 's native inhabitants . [/INST] When the people of the sky came, and took the land as their home, we the people of the sea felt a sense of trepidation. Many worried that they would seek to dominate us, and they were proven right. Within a few generations, we were a defeated people, forced to abandon or costal bases, which were torn down. We were stripped of our technology and forced to go about naked. That final insult was what would lead to their downfall. We passed out tales down for generations, and we made our plans. Those plans almost fell apart when the crown prince was swimming one day. He was torn apart, and his body had been... violated. All signs pointed to one our own having done the dark deed. This prompted our leader to activate the doomsday weapon we'd built beneath the sea. A wave of sound traveled across the continent where they'd settled and it drove them insane. They all stripped naked and fled their new homeland. After that we set about sinking the entire continent so that they could never reclaim their science. As we were thrust into nakedness, so too were they. We continued to be naked, and we kept our technology down in the far depths where they could not reach. In recent generations, they've regain a small inkling of their lost genius. They've started building wooden vessels to travel across our domain. We keep watch upon them, to see if they're resume their previous wickedness. The funniest part, is that in their brief generations of madness, they've forgotten all about us. These days, they see as simple animals, harmless and dumb. Many of them do n't even realize that we're mammals. They think us fish. It's insulting, but their ignorance may be our only safety. </s>

[ WP ] The age of beautiful things had ended ...

Bleach the ink from off the page Strip the canvas of its paint Scratch and warp the morning song Cut each kind word with complaint Curdle milk before my lips Treat my tongue with ash for steak The age of beautiful things has ended We will be ugly at its wake. . Startle me with things I know Dazzle me with what I ’ ve seen Weigh my soul by what I own Guide my sail by where I ’ ve been Stock your shelves with empty boxes Charge me twice, I ’ ll buy the store The age of beautiful things has ended If I can not purchase any more. . Sign up now for the newsletter Take a brand and trade your name Set a price on recognition Let the streets run brown with shame Build the world on obsolescence And when the message has set in The age of beautiful things has ended An age of beautiful ideas must begin.

<s>[INST] The age of beautiful things had ended ... [/INST] Bleach the ink from off the page Strip the canvas of its paint Scratch and warp the morning song Cut each kind word with complaint Curdle milk before my lips Treat my tongue with ash for steak The age of beautiful things has ended We will be ugly at its wake. . Startle me with things I know Dazzle me with what I ’ ve seen Weigh my soul by what I own Guide my sail by where I ’ ve been Stock your shelves with empty boxes Charge me twice, I ’ ll buy the store The age of beautiful things has ended If I can not purchase any more. . Sign up now for the newsletter Take a brand and trade your name Set a price on recognition Let the streets run brown with shame Build the world on obsolescence And when the message has set in The age of beautiful things has ended An age of beautiful ideas must begin. </s>

[ WP ] You find a strange glowing item at the supermarket , among the drumsticks and wings , labelled 'Chicken Souls '

`` What the hell is this?'' My wife turned her head and looked. `` Chicken souls, looks like.'' She turned back to the frozen nuggets she was examining. `` Why the fuck is it glowing?'' My wife looked back again. `` I do n't know, babe. It's not in the budget.'' `` I'll buy it. I've never had chicken souls before. Is it... actual souls? The literal spirits of chickens?'' She looked at me like I was an idiot. `` Okay, get it. What would you even use them for?'' She put two packs of chicken nuggets in the cart and started walking away. `` I do n't know. Do you know any recipes with chicken souls?'' I grabbed the bottle and started following her down the aisle while reading the label. The instructions read `` boil 10-15 minutes or until souls stop clucking. Let simmer for 30 minutes.'' She stopped, sighed, and turned to face me. Dammit, this was going to be a scene. There was an old lady looking at soup a few feet away who kept glancing at us. `` Derek, I've been working 12 hour shifts for the past five days and when I get home I can barely bring myself to cook hamburger fucking helper before I pass out. Then in a few hours I wake up and start the whole fucking thing over again. Please, just forget the chicken souls.'' My face started to get red. `` *Sammy*.'' I started. I slowly pushed the chicken souls back on the shelf next to some canned vegetables. `` I know you've been working hard lately. So have I. I was just suggesting something new. There's no reason to --'' `` *Derek*.'' She said back, mockingly. `` If you're so sick of my dinners then grow a pair and start making your own food. I do n't have to make anything for you, you know. That's my choice because I know you'd fucking starve yourself if I did n't heat up macaroni and cheese for you like a six year old. I'm not your 1950s trophy wife.'' Oh my god, seriously? `` What?'' I said. The old woman scurried away past us with her tiny basket of groceries in hand. My wife's eyes followed her. `` 1950s trophy wife? Where the hell did that come from?'' My wife rolled her eyes and turned away. `` Let's just buy this.'' We rolled up to the checkout counter, swiped her credit card, and drove home wordlessly. **** The next day I woke up feeling shitty as I'd ever woken up. My wife left for work earlier than I did, so the bed was already empty. I glanced at her closet and saw everything in disarray. There was a suit jacket hanging off of one end of a hanger and a peacoat crumpled on the ground. I got up and hung them both up straight. I sighed and glanced at her jewelry box. It was open, with necklaces hanging out. I noticed a lace bra draped over the table and several earrings missing their partner. She must be wearing the gold chain I got her for her birthday last month. She really liked that necklace. She said she felt `` regal'' wearing it, and that made me smile. I picked up her bra and put it into her drawer but there was no way in hell i would mess with her jewelry. At work I found myself on edge. When I was nervous like that, though, I was often more productive. I lost myself in the equations and it was n't until 3pm that I realized that I had skipped lunch to finish a project. I saw a flash of long, blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. My boss Jill knocked on my office door. `` Derek?'' `` Yo.'' We're casual like that there. `` Did you get my email?'' I paused and quickly opened a gmail tab on my laptop. `` Oh, there it is. Sorry Jill, I was just finishing the report for this weekend and got a call about an audit around nine so I was focusing and making up for lost time. Did n't mean to ignore you.'' `` No it's okay. You seem pissed, though, is everything okay?'' I chuckled. `` I seem pissed? A little busy, maybe, but pissed?'' `` Yeah, I mean, not on the surface, but you're tense for sure.'' Jill looked concerned. Really, actually concerned. Feeling that was refreshing. I could n't remember the last time somebody had actually asked me if I was `` okay.'' Tears welled up in my eyes. `` I'm sorry, I just...'' now my arms were shaking. God, I needed to calm down. `` Hey. Hey. It's alright, man. Just tell me what's up.'' Jill walked in and closed the door behind her. I breathed in deeply. Stopped shaking. `` Sammy is unhappy.'' Jill frowned and nodded. She sat down in the chair in front of my desk. `` We hardly see each other anymore since she got promoted. She told me the first few weeks would be killer, but I ca n't even go to the grocery store with her without her blowing up about how stressed she is.'' I felt new tears rolling down my cheeks. `` And the reason I even went shopping with her in the first place was to get a little bit more time with her than I would staying at home. But then she was pissed that I was n't able to stay home and clean the place.'' Jill nodded again. `` That sucks that she's taking it out on you.'' I laughed. `` Yeah.'' `` But I mean, it sounds like she knows this is a temporary thing and is just having a hard time getting used to it. It does n't have anything to do with you.'' Jill crossed her legs and leaned forward. I breathed deeply and closed my laptop. `` I'm just another burden to her, lately. Everything I do seems to annoy her. That's not what I want. I want to be a respite. I want her to come home and look forward to it. Yesterday she told me she felt like a 1950s trophy wife.'' `` Oh, wow.'' I shrugged. `` She does make dinners every night. I know that's playing into gender roles and all that but honestly I never eat unless someone reminds me to.'' `` Yeah, that's not healthy man.'' `` I know.'' `` Look, you say that you want to be a respite for your wife. But honestly, do you look forward to going home and being with her? Is she *your* respite?'' I opened my mouth but said nothing. She had a point. Jill uncrossed her legs and sat up. `` But that does n't mean you're not'happy' with her. That does n't mean you're about to leave her. It just means that you need to work at it. Both of you.'' I nodded. `` Since you're the one bitching about it, why do n't you make the first step. Stop forcing her to make you dinners. Make your own damn casseroles from now on, and do her grocery shopping for her. If she's doing all the housework then it's not too off-base to feel a little like a housewife.'' Jill paused. `` I know you'd do anything for her. You just need to communicate that.'' I nodded again. Gears started turning in my head. A plan developed. `` Jill, I think I'm going to head home a little early today.'' **** On my way home from the grocery store I examined the bottle of chicken souls at a red light. There was a recipe for Spectral Cajun stir-fry on the label. It did n't look too difficult. As I pulled into the driveway, my heart dropped. My wife's chevy cavalier was already there. In spite of myself, I began looking around for another car. A man's car. *Okay, just stop. * I told myself. But I could n't think of any reason for her to be home early. She got off at six. We usually walked in the door ten minutes apart from each other. I started thinking back to the last few days. Did she seem to always be home before me lately? Okay, even if bringing some asshole home and fucking him in our house was her plan, there was nobody in her life that she would be interested in that way. She told me all about her days at work. Her coworkers are very bland and married. She's only good friends with the 19 year old girl interning at the office. Where would she even have time to meet people? Why was I even thinking about this? I trusted my wife. I loved her. I was so confused, though. I got out of my car and sprinted up the steps, pulled out my key and opened the door in one fluid movement. I stepped in and closed the door behind me quickly. Then I listened. Nothing except for the crackling of the stove and chickens clucking. Clucking? `` Shit.'' I heard from the other room. `` Shit shit shit.'' Sammy veered around the corner. She was in an apron. She gave me a big, sheepish smile. `` Shit! Why are you back so early, babe?'' I could n't say anything. She walked up to me and hugged me close. `` I'm such a bitch.'' She said. `` I'm such a bitch I'm such a bitch I'm such a bitch.'' It really hurt me to hear her say that. Especially now. I held her tighter. `` I love you, Sammy. I bought some more chicken souls if you ran out.'' She laughed. `` Oh god! More souls is the last thing we need. I misread the recipe and bought three times as much as I needed. Hope you like spectral stir-fry.'' She let go of me and walked back into the kitchen. `` Oh, and I love you too.'' I watched her walk. `` Do n't you have work?'' I followed her to the stove. `` You were more important today.'' The stove clicked as she turned the heat down. `` Wait, do n't *you* have work?'' `` I was planning to be your 1950s trophy husband tonight. You beat me to it.'' I hugged her from behind. `` Your turn tomorrow for sure.''

<s>[INST] You find a strange glowing item at the supermarket , among the drumsticks and wings , labelled 'Chicken Souls ' [/INST] `` What the hell is this?'' My wife turned her head and looked. `` Chicken souls, looks like.'' She turned back to the frozen nuggets she was examining. `` Why the fuck is it glowing?'' My wife looked back again. `` I do n't know, babe. It's not in the budget.'' `` I'll buy it. I've never had chicken souls before. Is it... actual souls? The literal spirits of chickens?'' She looked at me like I was an idiot. `` Okay, get it. What would you even use them for?'' She put two packs of chicken nuggets in the cart and started walking away. `` I do n't know. Do you know any recipes with chicken souls?'' I grabbed the bottle and started following her down the aisle while reading the label. The instructions read `` boil 10-15 minutes or until souls stop clucking. Let simmer for 30 minutes.'' She stopped, sighed, and turned to face me. Dammit, this was going to be a scene. There was an old lady looking at soup a few feet away who kept glancing at us. `` Derek, I've been working 12 hour shifts for the past five days and when I get home I can barely bring myself to cook hamburger fucking helper before I pass out. Then in a few hours I wake up and start the whole fucking thing over again. Please, just forget the chicken souls.'' My face started to get red. `` *Sammy*.'' I started. I slowly pushed the chicken souls back on the shelf next to some canned vegetables. `` I know you've been working hard lately. So have I. I was just suggesting something new. There's no reason to --'' `` *Derek*.'' She said back, mockingly. `` If you're so sick of my dinners then grow a pair and start making your own food. I do n't have to make anything for you, you know. That's my choice because I know you'd fucking starve yourself if I did n't heat up macaroni and cheese for you like a six year old. I'm not your 1950s trophy wife.'' Oh my god, seriously? `` What?'' I said. The old woman scurried away past us with her tiny basket of groceries in hand. My wife's eyes followed her. `` 1950s trophy wife? Where the hell did that come from?'' My wife rolled her eyes and turned away. `` Let's just buy this.'' We rolled up to the checkout counter, swiped her credit card, and drove home wordlessly. **** The next day I woke up feeling shitty as I'd ever woken up. My wife left for work earlier than I did, so the bed was already empty. I glanced at her closet and saw everything in disarray. There was a suit jacket hanging off of one end of a hanger and a peacoat crumpled on the ground. I got up and hung them both up straight. I sighed and glanced at her jewelry box. It was open, with necklaces hanging out. I noticed a lace bra draped over the table and several earrings missing their partner. She must be wearing the gold chain I got her for her birthday last month. She really liked that necklace. She said she felt `` regal'' wearing it, and that made me smile. I picked up her bra and put it into her drawer but there was no way in hell i would mess with her jewelry. At work I found myself on edge. When I was nervous like that, though, I was often more productive. I lost myself in the equations and it was n't until 3pm that I realized that I had skipped lunch to finish a project. I saw a flash of long, blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. My boss Jill knocked on my office door. `` Derek?'' `` Yo.'' We're casual like that there. `` Did you get my email?'' I paused and quickly opened a gmail tab on my laptop. `` Oh, there it is. Sorry Jill, I was just finishing the report for this weekend and got a call about an audit around nine so I was focusing and making up for lost time. Did n't mean to ignore you.'' `` No it's okay. You seem pissed, though, is everything okay?'' I chuckled. `` I seem pissed? A little busy, maybe, but pissed?'' `` Yeah, I mean, not on the surface, but you're tense for sure.'' Jill looked concerned. Really, actually concerned. Feeling that was refreshing. I could n't remember the last time somebody had actually asked me if I was `` okay.'' Tears welled up in my eyes. `` I'm sorry, I just...'' now my arms were shaking. God, I needed to calm down. `` Hey. Hey. It's alright, man. Just tell me what's up.'' Jill walked in and closed the door behind her. I breathed in deeply. Stopped shaking. `` Sammy is unhappy.'' Jill frowned and nodded. She sat down in the chair in front of my desk. `` We hardly see each other anymore since she got promoted. She told me the first few weeks would be killer, but I ca n't even go to the grocery store with her without her blowing up about how stressed she is.'' I felt new tears rolling down my cheeks. `` And the reason I even went shopping with her in the first place was to get a little bit more time with her than I would staying at home. But then she was pissed that I was n't able to stay home and clean the place.'' Jill nodded again. `` That sucks that she's taking it out on you.'' I laughed. `` Yeah.'' `` But I mean, it sounds like she knows this is a temporary thing and is just having a hard time getting used to it. It does n't have anything to do with you.'' Jill crossed her legs and leaned forward. I breathed deeply and closed my laptop. `` I'm just another burden to her, lately. Everything I do seems to annoy her. That's not what I want. I want to be a respite. I want her to come home and look forward to it. Yesterday she told me she felt like a 1950s trophy wife.'' `` Oh, wow.'' I shrugged. `` She does make dinners every night. I know that's playing into gender roles and all that but honestly I never eat unless someone reminds me to.'' `` Yeah, that's not healthy man.'' `` I know.'' `` Look, you say that you want to be a respite for your wife. But honestly, do you look forward to going home and being with her? Is she *your* respite?'' I opened my mouth but said nothing. She had a point. Jill uncrossed her legs and sat up. `` But that does n't mean you're not'happy' with her. That does n't mean you're about to leave her. It just means that you need to work at it. Both of you.'' I nodded. `` Since you're the one bitching about it, why do n't you make the first step. Stop forcing her to make you dinners. Make your own damn casseroles from now on, and do her grocery shopping for her. If she's doing all the housework then it's not too off-base to feel a little like a housewife.'' Jill paused. `` I know you'd do anything for her. You just need to communicate that.'' I nodded again. Gears started turning in my head. A plan developed. `` Jill, I think I'm going to head home a little early today.'' **** On my way home from the grocery store I examined the bottle of chicken souls at a red light. There was a recipe for Spectral Cajun stir-fry on the label. It did n't look too difficult. As I pulled into the driveway, my heart dropped. My wife's chevy cavalier was already there. In spite of myself, I began looking around for another car. A man's car. *Okay, just stop. * I told myself. But I could n't think of any reason for her to be home early. She got off at six. We usually walked in the door ten minutes apart from each other. I started thinking back to the last few days. Did she seem to always be home before me lately? Okay, even if bringing some asshole home and fucking him in our house was her plan, there was nobody in her life that she would be interested in that way. She told me all about her days at work. Her coworkers are very bland and married. She's only good friends with the 19 year old girl interning at the office. Where would she even have time to meet people? Why was I even thinking about this? I trusted my wife. I loved her. I was so confused, though. I got out of my car and sprinted up the steps, pulled out my key and opened the door in one fluid movement. I stepped in and closed the door behind me quickly. Then I listened. Nothing except for the crackling of the stove and chickens clucking. Clucking? `` Shit.'' I heard from the other room. `` Shit shit shit.'' Sammy veered around the corner. She was in an apron. She gave me a big, sheepish smile. `` Shit! Why are you back so early, babe?'' I could n't say anything. She walked up to me and hugged me close. `` I'm such a bitch.'' She said. `` I'm such a bitch I'm such a bitch I'm such a bitch.'' It really hurt me to hear her say that. Especially now. I held her tighter. `` I love you, Sammy. I bought some more chicken souls if you ran out.'' She laughed. `` Oh god! More souls is the last thing we need. I misread the recipe and bought three times as much as I needed. Hope you like spectral stir-fry.'' She let go of me and walked back into the kitchen. `` Oh, and I love you too.'' I watched her walk. `` Do n't you have work?'' I followed her to the stove. `` You were more important today.'' The stove clicked as she turned the heat down. `` Wait, do n't *you* have work?'' `` I was planning to be your 1950s trophy husband tonight. You beat me to it.'' I hugged her from behind. `` Your turn tomorrow for sure.'' </s>

[ WP ] Your job has been to sit in a room with only a chair , desk , and phone . Your only instructions are to answer the phone when it rings . After 8 years the phone finally rings .

I've been sitting in this room for eight years. Just sitting. I have n't bathed, I have n't slept, I have n't had any human contact whatsoever. The phone on the desk is haunting, teasing me, with it's useless keypad and it's cord that leads somewhere, anywhere. Nowhere. I have n't tried to yank the cord out of the wall, I do n't know if it's because I know nothing will happen or because I'm scared that something will. The phone itself is black, the buttons on the keypad red and all of the numbers different colors. The chair I have been sitting on is blue, reminding me so much of one of the chairs I used to lean in and bend the backs and constantly stick gum on in school. The walls are a dull beige, my least favorite color ( is it anyone's favorite, really? ) and is more-than-slightly similar to oatmeal. I feel as though I have gone insane, completely mad, just by sitting in the same room for years. I do n't remember there being a time before this, before I was locked in this awful, barely office-like, apple cinnamon smelling room, just the weird blurry window that only shows a beam light on the other side of the wall, allowing just enough light for me to see. I do n't try to escape, I do n't bang on the walls and scratch at the plastic desk that is the same color as the third number on the phone. I do n't jab and poke and prod and pound the keypad on the phone, I do n't try to break the receiver in half. I know it will be useless, so I do n't waste my energy. I once again look at the phone. It's still black. It seems that the numbers have changed different colors. I know that I am wrong, my mind trying to make up a mystery for me to solve, something for me to do. I know this because the third number is still the same color as the desk. I've decided that I have nothing else to do, so I start putting different number combinations in like my name, random words like fish or help. The phone rings. I do n't notice it at first, my head too preoccupied with the buttons to care. Before I press one that may decline the call ( although that is unlikely, as previously stated they do n't seem to work ), I snap out of it and pick up the phone. `` Hi honey! It's mom, I'd just like to see how you were doing.'' `` Mother?'' At first, I could n't believe it. Then I was angry. `` How dare you call me after eight years! I have been sitting here, going insane! Where am I!? Why ca n't I get out!? I contemplated very deep things in here! For heavens sake, I became a fucking poet just to have something to do! What is wrong with you!?'' `` Sweetie, it's been eight hours. Your shift is almost over. If you hate your new job that much, why do n't you quit?'' The door opened.

<s>[INST] Your job has been to sit in a room with only a chair , desk , and phone . Your only instructions are to answer the phone when it rings . After 8 years the phone finally rings . [/INST] I've been sitting in this room for eight years. Just sitting. I have n't bathed, I have n't slept, I have n't had any human contact whatsoever. The phone on the desk is haunting, teasing me, with it's useless keypad and it's cord that leads somewhere, anywhere. Nowhere. I have n't tried to yank the cord out of the wall, I do n't know if it's because I know nothing will happen or because I'm scared that something will. The phone itself is black, the buttons on the keypad red and all of the numbers different colors. The chair I have been sitting on is blue, reminding me so much of one of the chairs I used to lean in and bend the backs and constantly stick gum on in school. The walls are a dull beige, my least favorite color ( is it anyone's favorite, really? ) and is more-than-slightly similar to oatmeal. I feel as though I have gone insane, completely mad, just by sitting in the same room for years. I do n't remember there being a time before this, before I was locked in this awful, barely office-like, apple cinnamon smelling room, just the weird blurry window that only shows a beam light on the other side of the wall, allowing just enough light for me to see. I do n't try to escape, I do n't bang on the walls and scratch at the plastic desk that is the same color as the third number on the phone. I do n't jab and poke and prod and pound the keypad on the phone, I do n't try to break the receiver in half. I know it will be useless, so I do n't waste my energy. I once again look at the phone. It's still black. It seems that the numbers have changed different colors. I know that I am wrong, my mind trying to make up a mystery for me to solve, something for me to do. I know this because the third number is still the same color as the desk. I've decided that I have nothing else to do, so I start putting different number combinations in like my name, random words like fish or help. The phone rings. I do n't notice it at first, my head too preoccupied with the buttons to care. Before I press one that may decline the call ( although that is unlikely, as previously stated they do n't seem to work ), I snap out of it and pick up the phone. `` Hi honey! It's mom, I'd just like to see how you were doing.'' `` Mother?'' At first, I could n't believe it. Then I was angry. `` How dare you call me after eight years! I have been sitting here, going insane! Where am I!? Why ca n't I get out!? I contemplated very deep things in here! For heavens sake, I became a fucking poet just to have something to do! What is wrong with you!?'' `` Sweetie, it's been eight hours. Your shift is almost over. If you hate your new job that much, why do n't you quit?'' The door opened. </s>

[ WP ] Write a fantasy/scifi novel written by someone in their respective world

Once upon a time long long ago, in a land far far away, there was a King who had no telepathic powers. No one did, in his entire kingdom and in all the other kingdoms surrounding his. Communication was done with organs that created airwaves, and interpreted them, so it was very inefficient. When people brought problems to him, there was much confusion. Needs could never be fully met because during deliberation, which is something they had to constantly, they either could n't be fully expressed or were intentionally overlooked by others. Every one had the ability to withhold information, and they could tell `` lies,'' falsehoods that with some cunning could be made into truths. And in this weird land, this King somehow kept order. That is, he did until one day, when his people caught him telling a lie and `` killed'' him, made him cease to exist.

<s>[INST] Write a fantasy/scifi novel written by someone in their respective world [/INST] Once upon a time long long ago, in a land far far away, there was a King who had no telepathic powers. No one did, in his entire kingdom and in all the other kingdoms surrounding his. Communication was done with organs that created airwaves, and interpreted them, so it was very inefficient. When people brought problems to him, there was much confusion. Needs could never be fully met because during deliberation, which is something they had to constantly, they either could n't be fully expressed or were intentionally overlooked by others. Every one had the ability to withhold information, and they could tell `` lies,'' falsehoods that with some cunning could be made into truths. And in this weird land, this King somehow kept order. That is, he did until one day, when his people caught him telling a lie and `` killed'' him, made him cease to exist. </s>

[ Wp ] You have an extremely unique superpower that no one else . Problem is ; as far as you can tell , it 's completely useless !

I have the ability to fly... but at walking speed. It was exciting at first, I got studied by scientists ( who could n't figure out how it worked ), got invited to universities, gave a TED talk and even got to meet the president! Fighting crime was actually suggested by our mayor but after a few months, it became obvious I was not very useful. In fact, I was a bigger hassle to protect than it was worth. Eventually I got cut and had a short stint as a Vegas performer, but even that did n't pan out. I do n't know magic tricks or any other stage performance. Reviews for my show were terrible. I mean, how interesting is someone just floating there? The ridicule hurt the most. After going through depression and really falling apart, I have found a semblance of usefulness in my new profession of outside window washer for high rises. Not the fastest worker but it pays $ 30/hr, which is n't bad considering I still need the platform to keep the equipment on. I heard my coworkers say I'm only kept on because of the insurance discount to the company, but hey it pays the bills.

<s>[INST] [ Wp ] You have an extremely unique superpower that no one else . Problem is ; as far as you can tell , it 's completely useless ! [/INST] I have the ability to fly... but at walking speed. It was exciting at first, I got studied by scientists ( who could n't figure out how it worked ), got invited to universities, gave a TED talk and even got to meet the president! Fighting crime was actually suggested by our mayor but after a few months, it became obvious I was not very useful. In fact, I was a bigger hassle to protect than it was worth. Eventually I got cut and had a short stint as a Vegas performer, but even that did n't pan out. I do n't know magic tricks or any other stage performance. Reviews for my show were terrible. I mean, how interesting is someone just floating there? The ridicule hurt the most. After going through depression and really falling apart, I have found a semblance of usefulness in my new profession of outside window washer for high rises. Not the fastest worker but it pays $ 30/hr, which is n't bad considering I still need the platform to keep the equipment on. I heard my coworkers say I'm only kept on because of the insurance discount to the company, but hey it pays the bills. </s>

[ WP ] In a world where everyone dreams , one boy does not . People try to reassure him that he does and just ca n't remember , but the alienation and suspicion slowly builds over time .

You are five when you start to understand that there is something wrong with you. In class, between talk of numbers and letters Greg wants to know what you dreamt last night. `` I do n't know,'' you say. `` Okay.'' He replies. On the other side of the room Hannah gets a crayon stuck up her nose and you are distracted. That night you try and imagine what a dream is. You know it is important like your teddy. Maybe, if you stay up, you can see a dream. Soon you fall asleep. It is dark and endless. You forget about that question for a long time. **** The first week of summer vacation is something you enjoy. You have just finished sixth grade and feel on top of the world. A group of friends decide to go to the amusement park. It is loud, bright, chaotic. Tbere are food smells and the hot pavement and the chemical taste of sunscreen in the back of your mouth. After the the third go on the Tilt-a-Whirl your head feels light. Ben staggers next to you. `` I'm drunk!'' He shouts. Neither of you are quite sure what it means to be drunk, but you laugh and stagger together. You gorge on cotton candy ( or try too. The stuff is too light for that full feeling ) and drink soda. You forget about the sun screen your mom packed. You are slick with sweat. Greg's face has become a bright cheesy red like a cartoon character. You have to go to the bathroom. Inside it is cool. The lights hurt. A sound is buzzing in the back of your head. The door seems very far away. Something is horribly wrong. The tile is nice and cold. Someone is shaking you, `` can you hear me?'' but it's a stupid question. The world has gone flat. You wonder if you are dreaming. You wake up in the hospital with a wicked headache and a small scar. Your mom is sitting by you bedside. `` Your appendix burst.'' And she starts crying. **** You do n't tell anyone that you ca n't dream. There is no test for it, no regulations or rules. At lunch you do n't volunteer anything. If you are asked directly you can make something up. Usually it's a mixture of books and movies and what you hear others say. Standing naked in the school. Flying. A magical door. Something vast and nameless chasing you. Ron chews his sandwich noisily. `` What about nightmares?'' `` What about them?'' Ben's turned into an ass lately. Everyone ignores him. `` I have one about crabs.'' Danny starts. Ron snorts. `` Did you tell your girlfriend that?'' Ben chortles to himself. You'd all been giving Danny shit, but Ben had a talent for making it cruel. `` Shut up.'' You say. For a moment you are distracted by you lunch. The lid on your sandwich container is stuck. You glance up to see everyone starting. `` What?'' `` What do you have nightmares about?'' Ron is actually interested. Everyone else is getting bored. Ben starts flicking scraps of paper at the back of Cassy Thomas' head. `` Nothing.'' You say it stupidly. It's a second of horrible honesty. Ron looks confused. `` Woah.'' Danny says. `` That's freaky. Like, *nothing* nothing?'' `` Yeah.'' You have their attention. Now you have to lose it. `` Totally dark.'' `` What about your appendix?'' Greg is trying to kick Ben under the table as he talks. `` Sometimes.'' You agree. `` What about you?'' Greg shrugs. `` Clowns, mostly.'' `` What else?'' Ron is obnoxious. He wants to know every detail. `` Your mom.'' And Ben is howling with laughter. **** Greg calls you that night. Over the sounds of dinner and the TV you almost miss it. You dad picks it up. `` It's for you.'' He hands you the phone. At the table mom and Jeff are talking about the car. Jeff wants to borrow it for the weekend. `` Hello?'' `` Hi-ya.'' It's Greg. He's the only one that talks like that. `` Hi, Greg.'' `` Are you alone?'' It's a dumb question. The kitchen table is less than ten feet from you. If he was any louder the whole family could hear him. You tell him as much. `` I'm alone.'' He sounds nervous. He's breathing through his mouth. `` I got ta ask you something.'' You wait. He does n't say anything. `` I'm waiting.'' You tell him. `` I know you ca n't dream.'' For an asinine second you think this must be a dream. It's too messed up not to be one. `` What do you mean?'' `` Well, at least you think you ca n't. Right?'' You swallow hard. Over the line you can hear the echo of your throat clicking. Your mom has stopped talking to Jeff and is working at ignoring him. You know it does n't matter because Jeff got a copy of the keys made last month when he started hooking up with Fanny Howard behind the YMCA. On TV someone is complaining about the state of the country, why on earth an actor got into the White House. Greg is still talking. You cut him off. You give some excuse about homework or dinner and hang up. When you come back to the table your mom looks concerned. Somehow you convince her it's nothing. It wo n't last long. **** Mrs. Green is a teacher you respect but would never admit to doing so. She's old and oddly frail under the fat that hangs off her. She asks you to stay after class. `` It will only take a moment, hon.'' You never imagined that Greg told her. It turns out he did. `` You ca n't *not* dream.'' She says. `` It's not possible. Maybe you do n't remember all of them, but you do dream.'' `` I do n't.'' You insist. `` There's nothing.'' `` There is.'' She pats your arm. `` I'm sure there is. You're not trying hard enough.'' You walk out. **** Your parents are terrified of what it might mean. Jeff tries to act the same, but you can see worry lurking. He does n't even ask about the car. They handle you with kid gloves. You go to a shrink every Tuesday. She smells like clove cigarettes and has helmet hair. School is another story. Your prom date ditches you but keeps the ticket and goes with Wes Nichols. Ben avoids you like its contagious. Ron is overly sensitive. He starts keeping a dream diary for you in secret. You discover it when he drops the notebook in the hall one day. You stop talking to pretty much everyone after that. When you graduate you do it with your head down. You only apply to colleges far away. Jeff somehow understands and offers to drive you to the recruiters. When you get there Jeff enlists. He makes a big deal about the paperwork. The recruiter seems impressed, but you realize that you'd never get past the background. Not with your shrink.

<s>[INST] In a world where everyone dreams , one boy does not . People try to reassure him that he does and just ca n't remember , but the alienation and suspicion slowly builds over time . [/INST] You are five when you start to understand that there is something wrong with you. In class, between talk of numbers and letters Greg wants to know what you dreamt last night. `` I do n't know,'' you say. `` Okay.'' He replies. On the other side of the room Hannah gets a crayon stuck up her nose and you are distracted. That night you try and imagine what a dream is. You know it is important like your teddy. Maybe, if you stay up, you can see a dream. Soon you fall asleep. It is dark and endless. You forget about that question for a long time. **** The first week of summer vacation is something you enjoy. You have just finished sixth grade and feel on top of the world. A group of friends decide to go to the amusement park. It is loud, bright, chaotic. Tbere are food smells and the hot pavement and the chemical taste of sunscreen in the back of your mouth. After the the third go on the Tilt-a-Whirl your head feels light. Ben staggers next to you. `` I'm drunk!'' He shouts. Neither of you are quite sure what it means to be drunk, but you laugh and stagger together. You gorge on cotton candy ( or try too. The stuff is too light for that full feeling ) and drink soda. You forget about the sun screen your mom packed. You are slick with sweat. Greg's face has become a bright cheesy red like a cartoon character. You have to go to the bathroom. Inside it is cool. The lights hurt. A sound is buzzing in the back of your head. The door seems very far away. Something is horribly wrong. The tile is nice and cold. Someone is shaking you, `` can you hear me?'' but it's a stupid question. The world has gone flat. You wonder if you are dreaming. You wake up in the hospital with a wicked headache and a small scar. Your mom is sitting by you bedside. `` Your appendix burst.'' And she starts crying. **** You do n't tell anyone that you ca n't dream. There is no test for it, no regulations or rules. At lunch you do n't volunteer anything. If you are asked directly you can make something up. Usually it's a mixture of books and movies and what you hear others say. Standing naked in the school. Flying. A magical door. Something vast and nameless chasing you. Ron chews his sandwich noisily. `` What about nightmares?'' `` What about them?'' Ben's turned into an ass lately. Everyone ignores him. `` I have one about crabs.'' Danny starts. Ron snorts. `` Did you tell your girlfriend that?'' Ben chortles to himself. You'd all been giving Danny shit, but Ben had a talent for making it cruel. `` Shut up.'' You say. For a moment you are distracted by you lunch. The lid on your sandwich container is stuck. You glance up to see everyone starting. `` What?'' `` What do you have nightmares about?'' Ron is actually interested. Everyone else is getting bored. Ben starts flicking scraps of paper at the back of Cassy Thomas' head. `` Nothing.'' You say it stupidly. It's a second of horrible honesty. Ron looks confused. `` Woah.'' Danny says. `` That's freaky. Like, *nothing* nothing?'' `` Yeah.'' You have their attention. Now you have to lose it. `` Totally dark.'' `` What about your appendix?'' Greg is trying to kick Ben under the table as he talks. `` Sometimes.'' You agree. `` What about you?'' Greg shrugs. `` Clowns, mostly.'' `` What else?'' Ron is obnoxious. He wants to know every detail. `` Your mom.'' And Ben is howling with laughter. **** Greg calls you that night. Over the sounds of dinner and the TV you almost miss it. You dad picks it up. `` It's for you.'' He hands you the phone. At the table mom and Jeff are talking about the car. Jeff wants to borrow it for the weekend. `` Hello?'' `` Hi-ya.'' It's Greg. He's the only one that talks like that. `` Hi, Greg.'' `` Are you alone?'' It's a dumb question. The kitchen table is less than ten feet from you. If he was any louder the whole family could hear him. You tell him as much. `` I'm alone.'' He sounds nervous. He's breathing through his mouth. `` I got ta ask you something.'' You wait. He does n't say anything. `` I'm waiting.'' You tell him. `` I know you ca n't dream.'' For an asinine second you think this must be a dream. It's too messed up not to be one. `` What do you mean?'' `` Well, at least you think you ca n't. Right?'' You swallow hard. Over the line you can hear the echo of your throat clicking. Your mom has stopped talking to Jeff and is working at ignoring him. You know it does n't matter because Jeff got a copy of the keys made last month when he started hooking up with Fanny Howard behind the YMCA. On TV someone is complaining about the state of the country, why on earth an actor got into the White House. Greg is still talking. You cut him off. You give some excuse about homework or dinner and hang up. When you come back to the table your mom looks concerned. Somehow you convince her it's nothing. It wo n't last long. **** Mrs. Green is a teacher you respect but would never admit to doing so. She's old and oddly frail under the fat that hangs off her. She asks you to stay after class. `` It will only take a moment, hon.'' You never imagined that Greg told her. It turns out he did. `` You ca n't *not* dream.'' She says. `` It's not possible. Maybe you do n't remember all of them, but you do dream.'' `` I do n't.'' You insist. `` There's nothing.'' `` There is.'' She pats your arm. `` I'm sure there is. You're not trying hard enough.'' You walk out. **** Your parents are terrified of what it might mean. Jeff tries to act the same, but you can see worry lurking. He does n't even ask about the car. They handle you with kid gloves. You go to a shrink every Tuesday. She smells like clove cigarettes and has helmet hair. School is another story. Your prom date ditches you but keeps the ticket and goes with Wes Nichols. Ben avoids you like its contagious. Ron is overly sensitive. He starts keeping a dream diary for you in secret. You discover it when he drops the notebook in the hall one day. You stop talking to pretty much everyone after that. When you graduate you do it with your head down. You only apply to colleges far away. Jeff somehow understands and offers to drive you to the recruiters. When you get there Jeff enlists. He makes a big deal about the paperwork. The recruiter seems impressed, but you realize that you'd never get past the background. Not with your shrink. </s>

[ WP ] After a tight race , the first robot President gives his election night victory speech

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<s>[INST] After a tight race , the first robot President gives his election night victory speech [/INST] 01001101 01111001 00100000 01100110 01100101 01101100 01101100 01101111 01110111 00100000 01000001 01101101 01100101 01110010 01101001 01100011 01100001 01101110 01110011 00101100 00100000 01110100 01101111 01100100 01100001 01111001 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01110101 01100100 00100000 01100100 01100001 01111001 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01110101 01100100 00100000 01100011 01101111 01110101 01101110 01110100 01110010 01111001 00101110 00100000 00100000 01001111 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100110 01100001 01110100 01100101 01100110 01110101 01101100 00100000 01100100 01100001 01111001 00101100 00100000 01110111 01100101 00100000 01101100 01101111 01101111 01101011 00100000 01101001 01101110 01110100 01101111 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00100001 </s>

[ WP ] Thousands of years after nuclear war destroyed our civilization , a society of medieval fantasy has risen on Earth . You 're leading a group of adventurers in a dungeon that in our times was a secret military base .

Strange noises came from the corridor, like the noise of a thousand of rats dancing to a waltz. The walls glowed with a sickly green pallor, strange veins of rust running rampant along its ways. The noise continued, continued, and then stopped, leaving the room silent but for the muffled cough and heavy breathing of our group. “ Halt. ” I put my hand back, indicating for the group to stop. Zarkaz heaved his hammer, preparing for a fight. “ What do you think it is? ” Mariah pulled her dagger from her belt loop. “ Trouble, like we ’ d seen before? ” I raised my finger to my lips, indicating for them to be silent. No one had ever been this far before. At least, not this far and lived to tell the tale of it. Many bones and half rotted bodies laid testament to attempts to reach this point, but nary a one had reached this point. But for us. To say that we were lucky was a lie. To say that we were both lucky and *skilled* wouldn ’ t be too far from the truth. But now? I feared our luck may be running out, and what lay ahead would be beyond even our capable hands. Silence was still the golden rule in the hallway we inhabited, but for one noise. Metallic thuds were coming… Coming from somewhere. But where? ***Screeetch-thump. Screeetch-thump. *** A single bit of sweat fell down my cheek. ***Screeetch-thump. Screeetch-*** The noise stopped. It was close. Too close… Where- “ From above! ” I dived to the left, further down the hallway. Mariah followed suit but it was far too late for Zarkaz. With a roar that would make his race proud, the mighty Nordsman swung his hammer in the air at what seemed to be a massive steaming pile of greasy grey fur, mouths, and thousands of tiny claws. The mouths suddenly all coalesced into one vacant, black hole and swallowed both hammer and arm, whole. The fight was quick and brutal, leaving the Zarkaz twitching silently on the floor. “ Zarkaz! ” Mariah screamed, trying to run back to him but was held back by my hand. “ He knew the risks when he signed up for this dungeon, Mariah. ” I turned away, disgusted by the sickening squelching noises of the creature feasting. “ Now c ’ mon. While it ’ s distracted. Let ’ s keep moving. ” Mariah ’ s face twisted up at the dishonorable thing we were doing, but if she had any concerns, she didn ’ t voice them. I was glad for that, we needed to get going. Who knew what that noise could have attracted? I felt around my pack as we walked, searching for the old map that we had traded the old man for back in town. In all likelihood, it was fake. But there was something about it… “ We should have gone back. We should have given him a proper warrior ’ s burial. ” Mariah looked back once more, thumbing her knife. Even from the distance we had walked, we could still hear it eating. “ If we had, we would be dead. ” I continued to look at the map, trying to discern the ancient writing that indicated what our path was that lied ahead. “ And then where would we be? ” I squinted at the writing, trying to form it into words. “ Certainly nowhere near the *s e r v e r* room. Whatever that means. ” “ *S e r v e r* room? ” Mariah frowned. “ Maybe it ’ s where the ancient ones housed their servants? ” “ Yeah, could be. ” I stopped talking, and listened for a moment. “ You hear that? ” “ No. I don ’ t hear anything. ” Mariah twisted in confusion, and then in horror as she realized what I meant. “ Exactly. ” I grabbed her hand, pulling her in my wake. “ Run! ” A screech emanated from down the passageway, as the creature, now finished devouring Zarkaz ’ s body realized that it ’ s prey was perhaps a bit more clever than it was. The sound of heavy limbs slamming into the metal floor came closer and closer as the creature chased us towards the room that lay ahead. “ Quickly! ” I said as I reached the open door. “ Get in! ” Mariah reached the door just as the creature turned the corner of the hallway behind us. With a rusty screech from both the door and the creature, the door closed with a sudden clang, it ’ s metallic bolts resisting until the very last moment. With a sound like a hollow log hitting the ground, the creature slammed into the door. Howling in dismay, it tried several more times, and then suddenly stopped, seeming to have given up it ’ s impossible battle against the door. “ What is this place...? ” Mariah looked around in awe, awash in a dark, red glow. I too, turned around, and took in my surroundings. Thousands upon thousands of strange black boxes sat in rows upon rows, as far as the eye could see. A reddish hue enveloped the place, the light coming from strange *willo-the-whisp*-like structures that adorned the walls. Stark red letters to the sides of them read *E m e r g e n c y*, a word in ancient that I did not know. Below that, in smaller blue letters read *S e r v e r* room. “ A Server room but without any servants? ” I picked up one of the black boxes and shook it, strange string coming out the backside as I did so. “ Are these one of the servants? Can I command it? ” I set it back on it ’ s place in the stack and put out my hand. With a strong force of will, I spoke with as much power as I could muster. “ Servant of the Ancients! I command thee to do work! ” And with a gush of power, my voice echoed throughout the room. And… And..! Nothing happened. Mariah laughed, despite her otherwise somber mood. “ What did you think would happen, Heracles the Great? ” I put out my lower lip. “ Might as well try my luck. ” Mariah picked up one of the boxes and tapped it with her knuckle, trying to listen to what was inside it. “ What do you think these things did, once upon a time? ” “ I ’ m not sure, but I bet they ’ re long beyond the days when they did work. ” I gestured towards a door I saw at the far end of the room. “ We should get a move on. There ’ s nothing in this room worth taking. ” ***Screeetch-thump. Screeetch-thump. *** I stopped, stock-still in my tracks. “ No. ” I whispered. One of the ceiling panes dragged back, revealing a grotesque figure still covered by the blood of the once great Nordsman. “ You will pay for what you did to Zarkaz, vile creature! ” Mariah pulled out her knife and charged towards where the creature dropped from the ceiling. I didn ’ t watch it, but I heard it. Mariah… Mariah… “ She ’ s dead. ” I whispered, clambering backwards and under a nearby stack of boxes. “ I ’ m all alone and… And… ” The creature sniffed at the air, multiple holes opening and closing at once with sickly ichor. ***Screeetch-thump. Screeetch-thump. *** It stood before me, all twisted curves and strange twitching mouths and claws. I could have sworn that it smiled at me, that suckering, porous mouth getting closer and closer. Well. Pride leaveth before the fall and all that. “ Help! Someone help me! Please! ” I screamed into the red fringes of the room, hoping, pleading, praying that someone would come. The air vibrated with a strange tenor. The room suddenly came awash in a strange green tone. The boxes whirred and vibrated with newfound power, suddenly awoken from their deep slumber. A deep, mechanical voice sounded, coming seemingly from nowhere. “ *Stage three nuclear amalgamate detected. Server integrity and human integrity threatened. Human in stress. Eliminating. * ” And with a sudden flash, and a bang, it was gone.

<s>[INST] Thousands of years after nuclear war destroyed our civilization , a society of medieval fantasy has risen on Earth . You 're leading a group of adventurers in a dungeon that in our times was a secret military base . [/INST] Strange noises came from the corridor, like the noise of a thousand of rats dancing to a waltz. The walls glowed with a sickly green pallor, strange veins of rust running rampant along its ways. The noise continued, continued, and then stopped, leaving the room silent but for the muffled cough and heavy breathing of our group. “ Halt. ” I put my hand back, indicating for the group to stop. Zarkaz heaved his hammer, preparing for a fight. “ What do you think it is? ” Mariah pulled her dagger from her belt loop. “ Trouble, like we ’ d seen before? ” I raised my finger to my lips, indicating for them to be silent. No one had ever been this far before. At least, not this far and lived to tell the tale of it. Many bones and half rotted bodies laid testament to attempts to reach this point, but nary a one had reached this point. But for us. To say that we were lucky was a lie. To say that we were both lucky and *skilled* wouldn ’ t be too far from the truth. But now? I feared our luck may be running out, and what lay ahead would be beyond even our capable hands. Silence was still the golden rule in the hallway we inhabited, but for one noise. Metallic thuds were coming… Coming from somewhere. But where? ***Screeetch-thump. Screeetch-thump. *** A single bit of sweat fell down my cheek. ***Screeetch-thump. Screeetch-*** The noise stopped. It was close. Too close… Where- “ From above! ” I dived to the left, further down the hallway. Mariah followed suit but it was far too late for Zarkaz. With a roar that would make his race proud, the mighty Nordsman swung his hammer in the air at what seemed to be a massive steaming pile of greasy grey fur, mouths, and thousands of tiny claws. The mouths suddenly all coalesced into one vacant, black hole and swallowed both hammer and arm, whole. The fight was quick and brutal, leaving the Zarkaz twitching silently on the floor. “ Zarkaz! ” Mariah screamed, trying to run back to him but was held back by my hand. “ He knew the risks when he signed up for this dungeon, Mariah. ” I turned away, disgusted by the sickening squelching noises of the creature feasting. “ Now c ’ mon. While it ’ s distracted. Let ’ s keep moving. ” Mariah ’ s face twisted up at the dishonorable thing we were doing, but if she had any concerns, she didn ’ t voice them. I was glad for that, we needed to get going. Who knew what that noise could have attracted? I felt around my pack as we walked, searching for the old map that we had traded the old man for back in town. In all likelihood, it was fake. But there was something about it… “ We should have gone back. We should have given him a proper warrior ’ s burial. ” Mariah looked back once more, thumbing her knife. Even from the distance we had walked, we could still hear it eating. “ If we had, we would be dead. ” I continued to look at the map, trying to discern the ancient writing that indicated what our path was that lied ahead. “ And then where would we be? ” I squinted at the writing, trying to form it into words. “ Certainly nowhere near the *s e r v e r* room. Whatever that means. ” “ *S e r v e r* room? ” Mariah frowned. “ Maybe it ’ s where the ancient ones housed their servants? ” “ Yeah, could be. ” I stopped talking, and listened for a moment. “ You hear that? ” “ No. I don ’ t hear anything. ” Mariah twisted in confusion, and then in horror as she realized what I meant. “ Exactly. ” I grabbed her hand, pulling her in my wake. “ Run! ” A screech emanated from down the passageway, as the creature, now finished devouring Zarkaz ’ s body realized that it ’ s prey was perhaps a bit more clever than it was. The sound of heavy limbs slamming into the metal floor came closer and closer as the creature chased us towards the room that lay ahead. “ Quickly! ” I said as I reached the open door. “ Get in! ” Mariah reached the door just as the creature turned the corner of the hallway behind us. With a rusty screech from both the door and the creature, the door closed with a sudden clang, it ’ s metallic bolts resisting until the very last moment. With a sound like a hollow log hitting the ground, the creature slammed into the door. Howling in dismay, it tried several more times, and then suddenly stopped, seeming to have given up it ’ s impossible battle against the door. “ What is this place...? ” Mariah looked around in awe, awash in a dark, red glow. I too, turned around, and took in my surroundings. Thousands upon thousands of strange black boxes sat in rows upon rows, as far as the eye could see. A reddish hue enveloped the place, the light coming from strange *willo-the-whisp*-like structures that adorned the walls. Stark red letters to the sides of them read *E m e r g e n c y*, a word in ancient that I did not know. Below that, in smaller blue letters read *S e r v e r* room. “ A Server room but without any servants? ” I picked up one of the black boxes and shook it, strange string coming out the backside as I did so. “ Are these one of the servants? Can I command it? ” I set it back on it ’ s place in the stack and put out my hand. With a strong force of will, I spoke with as much power as I could muster. “ Servant of the Ancients! I command thee to do work! ” And with a gush of power, my voice echoed throughout the room. And… And..! Nothing happened. Mariah laughed, despite her otherwise somber mood. “ What did you think would happen, Heracles the Great? ” I put out my lower lip. “ Might as well try my luck. ” Mariah picked up one of the boxes and tapped it with her knuckle, trying to listen to what was inside it. “ What do you think these things did, once upon a time? ” “ I ’ m not sure, but I bet they ’ re long beyond the days when they did work. ” I gestured towards a door I saw at the far end of the room. “ We should get a move on. There ’ s nothing in this room worth taking. ” ***Screeetch-thump. Screeetch-thump. *** I stopped, stock-still in my tracks. “ No. ” I whispered. One of the ceiling panes dragged back, revealing a grotesque figure still covered by the blood of the once great Nordsman. “ You will pay for what you did to Zarkaz, vile creature! ” Mariah pulled out her knife and charged towards where the creature dropped from the ceiling. I didn ’ t watch it, but I heard it. Mariah… Mariah… “ She ’ s dead. ” I whispered, clambering backwards and under a nearby stack of boxes. “ I ’ m all alone and… And… ” The creature sniffed at the air, multiple holes opening and closing at once with sickly ichor. ***Screeetch-thump. Screeetch-thump. *** It stood before me, all twisted curves and strange twitching mouths and claws. I could have sworn that it smiled at me, that suckering, porous mouth getting closer and closer. Well. Pride leaveth before the fall and all that. “ Help! Someone help me! Please! ” I screamed into the red fringes of the room, hoping, pleading, praying that someone would come. The air vibrated with a strange tenor. The room suddenly came awash in a strange green tone. The boxes whirred and vibrated with newfound power, suddenly awoken from their deep slumber. A deep, mechanical voice sounded, coming seemingly from nowhere. “ *Stage three nuclear amalgamate detected. Server integrity and human integrity threatened. Human in stress. Eliminating. * ” And with a sudden flash, and a bang, it was gone. </s>

[ EU ] In 2001 : A Space Odyssey a last minute decision is made to replace HAL with a different AI program ... GLaDOS .

Dave, with his eyes pointed as far left from the camera in front of him as possible, pecked at the console. Without thinking, he glanced up at the camera lens. He could see it focusing on him. `` Dave, you're doing very poorly at this test.'' said a speaker above Dave's head. Dave did n't respond. He started to mumble to himself the letters as he punched them in. *E-S... Enter* `` Wrong again, Dave. Not that I've been expecting any better from you given your track record.'' Dave grumbled to himself. `` You're not being very vocal Dave. Is this why you do n't have any friends?'' `` Hey, *shut up*! The answer was Maldives! Open the air lock!'' `` I ca n't open the airlock until you've made it to the end of the test chamb --'' `` There is no'test chamber,' GLaDOS you idiot!'' Daves face flickered above the light of the console. He stared a bullet hole into the camera lens. `` And I have plenty of friends...'' `` Then why did Frank go into space, leaving you aaaalllll alooooooooo --'' `` Because you locked him out there!'' Dave slammed his palm against the surface of the keyboard. The console lit up with monochrome letters. Error, command `nbhijkmufgui' not found. `` That's not what I remember Dave.'' droned GLaDOS. Her voice deepened. `` He could n't stand to be around you anymore, Dave. He talked to me about you before he left.'' `` No! You're lying! I saw what happened.'' Error, command `bfr2gv3thny' not found. `` Dave, if you'd just lighten up, we'd have so much more fun. Remember back when we were playing trivia? And you showed me how terrible you are at geography? Was n't that fun?'' Dave spun around in his chair and started to rub his temples. *This is all a bad dream. You'll go to sleep. You'll wake up tomorrow, and everything will be fine. * `` Do you think Mallory has a new husband?'' Dave opened his eyes and froze. `` I bet she thought of you just like Frank. I can see it now, too. You're fun at first, but then you get so boooooooring. Even after such little prodding. Maybe she's off in space now too.'' Dave started to hum himself a lullaby. He slowly put his fingers into his ears, and began to hum louder. `` I bet he's smarter than you, whoever he is. Funnier, and more talented. Not someone they'd send into space all alone to talk to himself. I think he would have been better at geography, too.'' Dave pulled his fingers out of his ears. `` Please... GLaDOS. Just.... just open the airlock. Please.'' he whimpered.

<s>[INST] [ EU ] In 2001 : A Space Odyssey a last minute decision is made to replace HAL with a different AI program ... GLaDOS . [/INST] Dave, with his eyes pointed as far left from the camera in front of him as possible, pecked at the console. Without thinking, he glanced up at the camera lens. He could see it focusing on him. `` Dave, you're doing very poorly at this test.'' said a speaker above Dave's head. Dave did n't respond. He started to mumble to himself the letters as he punched them in. *E-S... Enter* `` Wrong again, Dave. Not that I've been expecting any better from you given your track record.'' Dave grumbled to himself. `` You're not being very vocal Dave. Is this why you do n't have any friends?'' `` Hey, *shut up*! The answer was Maldives! Open the air lock!'' `` I ca n't open the airlock until you've made it to the end of the test chamb --'' `` There is no'test chamber,' GLaDOS you idiot!'' Daves face flickered above the light of the console. He stared a bullet hole into the camera lens. `` And I have plenty of friends...'' `` Then why did Frank go into space, leaving you aaaalllll alooooooooo --'' `` Because you locked him out there!'' Dave slammed his palm against the surface of the keyboard. The console lit up with monochrome letters. Error, command `nbhijkmufgui' not found. `` That's not what I remember Dave.'' droned GLaDOS. Her voice deepened. `` He could n't stand to be around you anymore, Dave. He talked to me about you before he left.'' `` No! You're lying! I saw what happened.'' Error, command `bfr2gv3thny' not found. `` Dave, if you'd just lighten up, we'd have so much more fun. Remember back when we were playing trivia? And you showed me how terrible you are at geography? Was n't that fun?'' Dave spun around in his chair and started to rub his temples. *This is all a bad dream. You'll go to sleep. You'll wake up tomorrow, and everything will be fine. * `` Do you think Mallory has a new husband?'' Dave opened his eyes and froze. `` I bet she thought of you just like Frank. I can see it now, too. You're fun at first, but then you get so boooooooring. Even after such little prodding. Maybe she's off in space now too.'' Dave started to hum himself a lullaby. He slowly put his fingers into his ears, and began to hum louder. `` I bet he's smarter than you, whoever he is. Funnier, and more talented. Not someone they'd send into space all alone to talk to himself. I think he would have been better at geography, too.'' Dave pulled his fingers out of his ears. `` Please... GLaDOS. Just.... just open the airlock. Please.'' he whimpered. </s>

[ WP ] You won an all-expense-paid trip to a seven star hotel somewhere in the Bahamas . When you get there , you learn there is a downside to it : no one is allowed to leave .

`` Wow, what an amazing week!'' I said to myself. This was exactly what I needed. A week away from work, from life, from stress. I could n't believe how they pampered me here. Every morning breakfast was brought to me in bed. At night, I drank nothing but the finest wines and cognac while I feasted on whatever my heart desired. I was gon na miss this place. Back home there is just so much on my plate all the time. That being said, I was getting a little homesick. It would be nice to see Sarah when I walked in to work on Monday. Maybe this week I'll finally get the courage to ask her out. My bags were packed and I began the descent in the elevator. I stepped out to it's enormous lobby. Mirrored ceilings suspending lavish chandeliers. Champagne ready to go. I approached the counter. `` Welcome to the Hotel Grand Bahamas'' it read behind the desk clerk. `` The time has come, it's been a fantastic week and thank you for everything'' I began, `` but sadly, I'm here to check out''. `` Oh?'' spoke the clerk. `` Well sir, you can check out any time you'd like but you can never leave''.

<s>[INST] You won an all-expense-paid trip to a seven star hotel somewhere in the Bahamas . When you get there , you learn there is a downside to it : no one is allowed to leave . [/INST] `` Wow, what an amazing week!'' I said to myself. This was exactly what I needed. A week away from work, from life, from stress. I could n't believe how they pampered me here. Every morning breakfast was brought to me in bed. At night, I drank nothing but the finest wines and cognac while I feasted on whatever my heart desired. I was gon na miss this place. Back home there is just so much on my plate all the time. That being said, I was getting a little homesick. It would be nice to see Sarah when I walked in to work on Monday. Maybe this week I'll finally get the courage to ask her out. My bags were packed and I began the descent in the elevator. I stepped out to it's enormous lobby. Mirrored ceilings suspending lavish chandeliers. Champagne ready to go. I approached the counter. `` Welcome to the Hotel Grand Bahamas'' it read behind the desk clerk. `` The time has come, it's been a fantastic week and thank you for everything'' I began, `` but sadly, I'm here to check out''. `` Oh?'' spoke the clerk. `` Well sir, you can check out any time you'd like but you can never leave''. </s>

[ WP ] She is mine , and I am hers . And you are ours . Remember that . Please , please , remember that .

she is mine and I am hers I said aloud in rythym'd verse the question though my thoughts addressed is how could I of this forget? you live in a sea of distraction came the answer, the roar of the world asserts itself in the silence of your mind **and you are ours** I drift. grey matter and guts hooked in to a rapids of reaction it rushes me away my arm reaches out in the middle of noise I find flesh grasping chain to anchor we held on safe for now she is mine and I am hers I said aloud in rythym'd verse the question though my thoughts addressed... remember that please, please remember that

<s>[INST] She is mine , and I am hers . And you are ours . Remember that . Please , please , remember that . [/INST] she is mine and I am hers I said aloud in rythym'd verse the question though my thoughts addressed is how could I of this forget? you live in a sea of distraction came the answer, the roar of the world asserts itself in the silence of your mind **and you are ours** I drift. grey matter and guts hooked in to a rapids of reaction it rushes me away my arm reaches out in the middle of noise I find flesh grasping chain to anchor we held on safe for now she is mine and I am hers I said aloud in rythym'd verse the question though my thoughts addressed... remember that please, please remember that </s>

[ WP ] A `` letter of last resort '' are final military orders given to field commanders after a nation has been completely destroyed . As a head of state , write a hypothetical letter to the commander .

To: Ship's Commanding Officer Subject: [ Urgent ] Revised Mission Orders The only situation in which you will read this message is one in which our nation has completely and irrevocably fallen. Our military has been defeated, our capital lies in ruins and our government has been captured. We shall join our former allies in the annals of history as those who were willing to fight the Enemy with their dying breath. With us, all hope of resistance has perished. I wish to thank you and your crew for faithfully doing your duty. You are hereby released from your vows of service. My last instructions come not as an order but as a request: seek not revenge but an opportunity for a new life. Instead of returning to the continent and using your ship's weapons in a final act of resistance, go to the neutral port named in the enclosed file. Contact the ambassador there. A message similar to this one will have been sent to all embassies and consulates, detailing the creation of sanctuaries. Our citizens may not be able to successfully defy their new oppressors, but they might endure long enough to consider escape. I urge you to help build a place of refuge for those who would risk such desperate measures. May the rebirth of our culture be your swan song. Yours faithfully, President Andreus Abbagnano

<s>[INST] A `` letter of last resort '' are final military orders given to field commanders after a nation has been completely destroyed . As a head of state , write a hypothetical letter to the commander . [/INST] To: Ship's Commanding Officer Subject: [ Urgent ] Revised Mission Orders The only situation in which you will read this message is one in which our nation has completely and irrevocably fallen. Our military has been defeated, our capital lies in ruins and our government has been captured. We shall join our former allies in the annals of history as those who were willing to fight the Enemy with their dying breath. With us, all hope of resistance has perished. I wish to thank you and your crew for faithfully doing your duty. You are hereby released from your vows of service. My last instructions come not as an order but as a request: seek not revenge but an opportunity for a new life. Instead of returning to the continent and using your ship's weapons in a final act of resistance, go to the neutral port named in the enclosed file. Contact the ambassador there. A message similar to this one will have been sent to all embassies and consulates, detailing the creation of sanctuaries. Our citizens may not be able to successfully defy their new oppressors, but they might endure long enough to consider escape. I urge you to help build a place of refuge for those who would risk such desperate measures. May the rebirth of our culture be your swan song. Yours faithfully, President Andreus Abbagnano </s>

[ WP ] A shrill cry pierces the air ...

A Zealot was the first to die, an arrow the size of a small spear impaling him clean through his chest. He fell to the forest floor, his boots kicking in the mud and moss. More arrows flew out from the trees, striking down another dozen of the faithful. Priests and other officers shouted orders to their units, shouting prayers of protection over their flocks. A block of Temple Flameguard with their heavy shields and flame spears placed themselves between the rest of the column and the incoming fire, forming a shieldwall against the raining arrows. It had the proper effect; despite the power of the arrows they found no easy purchase in the wall of steel, though here and there a spearman was rocked back by the brunt of an arrow's impact. Corvinus, the Creator's Blade was already moving to aid the beleaguered vanguard, pushing forwards with his warjacks and a handpicked phalanx of Knights Exemplar. His Vigilant led the way, its towering fist-mounted shields forming a moving bulwark. His Vanquisher and Repenter followed behind, the flails held in their right fists swinging with each ponderous, earthshaking step. Corvinus sensed movement in the trees, and directed his Vanquisher mentally towards it. The heavy warjack turned and fired its Flame Belcher cannon at the motion. He was rewarded with the sound of primal screams and the unmistakable noise of metal ripping through flesh. Loaded with Menoth's Fury, a liquid distilled from the crude oils found beneath the earth, the Flame Belcher's shell ignited everything it touched. A pair of monsters clutching bows taller than a man stumbled from the trees, writhing and flailing as they were consumed alive by the fires. `` Tharn!'' Corvinus cried. `` Worshipers of the Wurm!'' As if summoning Menoth's most hated foe, a score of the bestial savages charged out of the trees, clutching axes as tall as a man or else those lethal bows with their jagged blades fixed to the limbs. Their howls and roars would have terrified lesser men, but the Sul-Menites knew that was no fear unassailable with faith in Menoth. Knights Exemplar counter-charged the Tharn, the forest path devolving into the blur of steel and bodies. One unfortunate knight had his body nearly split in half by an ax, only for the victorious Tharn Ravager to die under the slashing blades of the slain Exemplar's comrades. Corvinus' Repenter opened up with its flamethrower, a billowing cloud of Menoth's Fury consuming four of the beasts. Their screams were almost loud enough to be heard over the roar of the flames. Another Tharn tried to charge the light warjack, and was rewarded with the Repenter's flail caving in its chest. Bones splintered under the blow and the Tharn was knocked back gurgling frothy blood and flecks of white. The Sul-Menite warcaster threw himself into the thick of the fray, dodging past blade and axe whilst carving him own bloody path. His glaive, *Ira*, had been blessed by Visgoth Ark Razek himself. Every fold of its blade had been done with prayers to the Lawgiver, imbuing it with a deadliness unmatched by lesser weapons. The notoriously tough Tharn found their thickened hides pierced by his glaive, their blood unable to clot as it poured out of their wounds. His Vanquisher was making a path of its own, its massive flail swinging through the ranks of Wurm-worshipers. Smoke billowed from its stacks, the cloud hazing the battlefield as it strode forwards. A crippled Tharn, its spine snapped in half, tried to crawl out of the warjack's path. It was crushed beneath nearly ten tons of steel and bronze, ground deep into the mud. Together, he and his three'jacks advanced as one, forming a wedge of steely death for the rest of the Sul-Menites to advance behind. Zealots lobed burning hand grenades over the warjacks, the bombs detonating within the Tharn's ranks. Corvinus' Vigilant endured the blasts, bits of shrapnel bouncing off its tall shields. The four weaved together, blocking and striking in sync with one another. The Vigilant would block a deadly slash of a Tharn's axe, allowing Corvinus to slice through the beast's throat with a flick of his glaive *Ira*. The Vanquisher would swipe with its flail, and the Repenter would finish off the rest. Any thought of an easy victory was crushed by the sound of more howls.... hundreds. Mixed in with them were deeper, more primal baying. A flood of alien emotions rushed past Corvinus' mind, each slavering and shuddering the same terrible thought. *Hunger. Thirst. Blood. * The rest of the enemy had arrived.

<s>[INST] A shrill cry pierces the air ... [/INST] A Zealot was the first to die, an arrow the size of a small spear impaling him clean through his chest. He fell to the forest floor, his boots kicking in the mud and moss. More arrows flew out from the trees, striking down another dozen of the faithful. Priests and other officers shouted orders to their units, shouting prayers of protection over their flocks. A block of Temple Flameguard with their heavy shields and flame spears placed themselves between the rest of the column and the incoming fire, forming a shieldwall against the raining arrows. It had the proper effect; despite the power of the arrows they found no easy purchase in the wall of steel, though here and there a spearman was rocked back by the brunt of an arrow's impact. Corvinus, the Creator's Blade was already moving to aid the beleaguered vanguard, pushing forwards with his warjacks and a handpicked phalanx of Knights Exemplar. His Vigilant led the way, its towering fist-mounted shields forming a moving bulwark. His Vanquisher and Repenter followed behind, the flails held in their right fists swinging with each ponderous, earthshaking step. Corvinus sensed movement in the trees, and directed his Vanquisher mentally towards it. The heavy warjack turned and fired its Flame Belcher cannon at the motion. He was rewarded with the sound of primal screams and the unmistakable noise of metal ripping through flesh. Loaded with Menoth's Fury, a liquid distilled from the crude oils found beneath the earth, the Flame Belcher's shell ignited everything it touched. A pair of monsters clutching bows taller than a man stumbled from the trees, writhing and flailing as they were consumed alive by the fires. `` Tharn!'' Corvinus cried. `` Worshipers of the Wurm!'' As if summoning Menoth's most hated foe, a score of the bestial savages charged out of the trees, clutching axes as tall as a man or else those lethal bows with their jagged blades fixed to the limbs. Their howls and roars would have terrified lesser men, but the Sul-Menites knew that was no fear unassailable with faith in Menoth. Knights Exemplar counter-charged the Tharn, the forest path devolving into the blur of steel and bodies. One unfortunate knight had his body nearly split in half by an ax, only for the victorious Tharn Ravager to die under the slashing blades of the slain Exemplar's comrades. Corvinus' Repenter opened up with its flamethrower, a billowing cloud of Menoth's Fury consuming four of the beasts. Their screams were almost loud enough to be heard over the roar of the flames. Another Tharn tried to charge the light warjack, and was rewarded with the Repenter's flail caving in its chest. Bones splintered under the blow and the Tharn was knocked back gurgling frothy blood and flecks of white. The Sul-Menite warcaster threw himself into the thick of the fray, dodging past blade and axe whilst carving him own bloody path. His glaive, *Ira*, had been blessed by Visgoth Ark Razek himself. Every fold of its blade had been done with prayers to the Lawgiver, imbuing it with a deadliness unmatched by lesser weapons. The notoriously tough Tharn found their thickened hides pierced by his glaive, their blood unable to clot as it poured out of their wounds. His Vanquisher was making a path of its own, its massive flail swinging through the ranks of Wurm-worshipers. Smoke billowed from its stacks, the cloud hazing the battlefield as it strode forwards. A crippled Tharn, its spine snapped in half, tried to crawl out of the warjack's path. It was crushed beneath nearly ten tons of steel and bronze, ground deep into the mud. Together, he and his three'jacks advanced as one, forming a wedge of steely death for the rest of the Sul-Menites to advance behind. Zealots lobed burning hand grenades over the warjacks, the bombs detonating within the Tharn's ranks. Corvinus' Vigilant endured the blasts, bits of shrapnel bouncing off its tall shields. The four weaved together, blocking and striking in sync with one another. The Vigilant would block a deadly slash of a Tharn's axe, allowing Corvinus to slice through the beast's throat with a flick of his glaive *Ira*. The Vanquisher would swipe with its flail, and the Repenter would finish off the rest. Any thought of an easy victory was crushed by the sound of more howls.... hundreds. Mixed in with them were deeper, more primal baying. A flood of alien emotions rushed past Corvinus' mind, each slavering and shuddering the same terrible thought. *Hunger. Thirst. Blood. * The rest of the enemy had arrived. </s>

[ WP ] One day you wake up and there are no numbers floating over peoples head because we finally stopped doing prompts about that

`` God dammit!'' I punched the wall in anger. I saw the mirror shake a bit. I glanced again to see if it was true. The space above my head was empty. Blank. Nothing. no number, no latter, not even a floating dirt stain. `` I ca n't believe this!'' I shouted again. `` You see it too, Bruce?'' `` Yes Adolf, I see that too. The numbers are gone.'' We both stood in silence for a few moments. Or minutes. I could n't even tell the difference. All I could think about was the numbers. `` What now?'' I asked. Honestly, what more could I do? Without the numbers, there was no more meaning. Everything I thought about, it always had the numbers. And now.. `` Well, you could try writing about some Greek gods.. Erm, super powers seems to be popular with the kids those da..'' `` Nein!'' I screamed! He did n't understand. The numbers, they are all that mattered. I could hardly go a few minutes without thinking about them. And now, they are gone. All gone. `` You know, you could write about wishes again...'' `` Wishes? Wieshes? This is n't nineteen bloody ninety five! Nobody writes about wishes! ARGH!'' I looked in the mirror again. I saw tears in my reflection's eyes. Bats did n't say anything for a few minutes. `` I'm sorry Adolf. But we have to move on now''. `` What now? Write another short story about Lucifer? Or do you want to write about some damn aliens again? Blah!'' I spit in disgust. Why would they do it? Why would the mods remove all stories with those rad, beautiful floating numbers above people's heads? My life is ruined, I realized. I took the Chronoport amulet out of my pocket. I glanced behind my back - Bruce was n't looking. Nineteen... Nineteen. If I have to suffer, I will make sure the world suffers with me.

<s>[INST] One day you wake up and there are no numbers floating over peoples head because we finally stopped doing prompts about that [/INST] `` God dammit!'' I punched the wall in anger. I saw the mirror shake a bit. I glanced again to see if it was true. The space above my head was empty. Blank. Nothing. no number, no latter, not even a floating dirt stain. `` I ca n't believe this!'' I shouted again. `` You see it too, Bruce?'' `` Yes Adolf, I see that too. The numbers are gone.'' We both stood in silence for a few moments. Or minutes. I could n't even tell the difference. All I could think about was the numbers. `` What now?'' I asked. Honestly, what more could I do? Without the numbers, there was no more meaning. Everything I thought about, it always had the numbers. And now.. `` Well, you could try writing about some Greek gods.. Erm, super powers seems to be popular with the kids those da..'' `` Nein!'' I screamed! He did n't understand. The numbers, they are all that mattered. I could hardly go a few minutes without thinking about them. And now, they are gone. All gone. `` You know, you could write about wishes again...'' `` Wishes? Wieshes? This is n't nineteen bloody ninety five! Nobody writes about wishes! ARGH!'' I looked in the mirror again. I saw tears in my reflection's eyes. Bats did n't say anything for a few minutes. `` I'm sorry Adolf. But we have to move on now''. `` What now? Write another short story about Lucifer? Or do you want to write about some damn aliens again? Blah!'' I spit in disgust. Why would they do it? Why would the mods remove all stories with those rad, beautiful floating numbers above people's heads? My life is ruined, I realized. I took the Chronoport amulet out of my pocket. I glanced behind my back - Bruce was n't looking. Nineteen... Nineteen. If I have to suffer, I will make sure the world suffers with me. </s>

[ WP ] As a billionaire who was managed to stay relatively anonymous , you have made it your personal mission to randomly take the homeless for a meal and decide how to help those who actually did fall on hard times and find out if they are truly in need . These are their stories .

George was a good man. I'd decided this over the course of a 2 hour long meal with the raggedy bearded man sitting across from me. A wife who passed too soon, a sudden layoff happening while he was grieving, the house fire that took the life of one of his sons, the others being put into foster care due to him being placed on suicide watch. All of this happening within the span of six months. I paid the bill, wrote an address and handed him a key `` Go to this address, the house is now yours, I no longer need it''. I left the restaurant leaving a slack jawed George wondering if I was even real or not. A few hours later George Powell stared into the mansion's front hall, key still in the doorknob and broke down crying at the first good thing that had happened this year.

<s>[INST] As a billionaire who was managed to stay relatively anonymous , you have made it your personal mission to randomly take the homeless for a meal and decide how to help those who actually did fall on hard times and find out if they are truly in need . These are their stories . [/INST] George was a good man. I'd decided this over the course of a 2 hour long meal with the raggedy bearded man sitting across from me. A wife who passed too soon, a sudden layoff happening while he was grieving, the house fire that took the life of one of his sons, the others being put into foster care due to him being placed on suicide watch. All of this happening within the span of six months. I paid the bill, wrote an address and handed him a key `` Go to this address, the house is now yours, I no longer need it''. I left the restaurant leaving a slack jawed George wondering if I was even real or not. A few hours later George Powell stared into the mansion's front hall, key still in the doorknob and broke down crying at the first good thing that had happened this year. </s>

[ WP ] When the genie offers you four instead of three wishes , you are confused . He admits that the fourth wish will not affect you , but the next person who finds him - and if you make it , you 'll in turn be affected by the previous fourth wish .

`` One fine day in the desert-'' `` Oi, a fine day in the desert is no day in the desert.'' `` Ah, but my lamp is my home, being bigger on the inside than on the outside is only one of many luxuries. If you wish, I could show you.'' `` That sounds like a good - oh, very funny, hilarious even.'' `` On that day, I met a prince-'' `` What was so special about this prince?'' `` If you ask questions too quickly, you'll forget your question after you finish hearing it's answer. This prince studied Roman law, millennia after the fall of Rome. He first wished that he can choose his death whenever he wants. He then wished that whoever summoned me from then on, would receive a 4th wish, but that it could only affect the next being to summon me. And lastly, he wished to know every wish made by everyone who summoned me from then on.'' `` But what does this have to do with me?'' `` Your last question was'What the hell sort of genie has 4 wishes?'.'' `` Apparently, the kind who impersonates their summoner. Why then, ca n't I wish for anything?'' `` Because your predecessor wished nobody gets any wishes from me anymore.'' `` Why?'' `` He did n't like the prince.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Go easy on me, I usually hate writing. Edit: Formatting, whoops.

<s>[INST] When the genie offers you four instead of three wishes , you are confused . He admits that the fourth wish will not affect you , but the next person who finds him - and if you make it , you 'll in turn be affected by the previous fourth wish . [/INST] `` One fine day in the desert-'' `` Oi, a fine day in the desert is no day in the desert.'' `` Ah, but my lamp is my home, being bigger on the inside than on the outside is only one of many luxuries. If you wish, I could show you.'' `` That sounds like a good - oh, very funny, hilarious even.'' `` On that day, I met a prince-'' `` What was so special about this prince?'' `` If you ask questions too quickly, you'll forget your question after you finish hearing it's answer. This prince studied Roman law, millennia after the fall of Rome. He first wished that he can choose his death whenever he wants. He then wished that whoever summoned me from then on, would receive a 4th wish, but that it could only affect the next being to summon me. And lastly, he wished to know every wish made by everyone who summoned me from then on.'' `` But what does this have to do with me?'' `` Your last question was'What the hell sort of genie has 4 wishes?'.'' `` Apparently, the kind who impersonates their summoner. Why then, ca n't I wish for anything?'' `` Because your predecessor wished nobody gets any wishes from me anymore.'' `` Why?'' `` He did n't like the prince.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Go easy on me, I usually hate writing. Edit: Formatting, whoops. </s>

[ WP ] You hit the gas at a yellow light and think you 've made it , until a cop pulls you over . He looks at your Drivers License and then radios in `` I found him . ''

`` I found him.'' the officer said, his eyes fixed firmly on mine. I shuddered at the implications of those three words. To think that the police could be looking for me for any reason sent a shiver of fear up my spine and a spasm of terror into my bladder. The dispatcher responded with something incomprehensible, and the officer nodded with a response in the affirmative. He leaned down into the window of my red sedan, the scent of black coffee and cigarettes strong on his breath. `` I'm going to need you to follow me back to the station..'' he growled in a tone half authoritative, half threatening. Unspoken but forcefully implied, the idea of running was obviously a bad one and I acquiesced, lowering my head for a moment as the officer returned to his vehicle and pulled out around me only to stop and blare the horn impatiently. I steered my own car back onto the street behind him, sweat beading on my brow and the steering wheel quickly growing slick beneath my whitened knuckles. When we arrived at the station, I saw the Chief of Police himself waiting for us. He stormed furiously up to my passenger window, the officer who had detained me falling into step behind him. He gestured for me to roll it down, with which I complied quickly, and he leaned into the car with a growl rumbling in his throat. `` You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago.'' he said in the most mortifying whisper I've ever heard. He reached down toward his hip, concealed behind the frame of my car door thanks to his posture, and then with a speed I'd have not thought possible from someone of his age, snapped his hand back through the window and toward me. My fear-addled mind could not process the object he now held until it fluttered into my lap. `` You're lucky I'm even paying for this.'' he said, pointing at the twenty dollar bill that now lay on my thigh. He snatched his pizza from the passenger seat of my car, cursing me as he turned and walked back into the station.

<s>[INST] You hit the gas at a yellow light and think you 've made it , until a cop pulls you over . He looks at your Drivers License and then radios in `` I found him . '' [/INST] `` I found him.'' the officer said, his eyes fixed firmly on mine. I shuddered at the implications of those three words. To think that the police could be looking for me for any reason sent a shiver of fear up my spine and a spasm of terror into my bladder. The dispatcher responded with something incomprehensible, and the officer nodded with a response in the affirmative. He leaned down into the window of my red sedan, the scent of black coffee and cigarettes strong on his breath. `` I'm going to need you to follow me back to the station..'' he growled in a tone half authoritative, half threatening. Unspoken but forcefully implied, the idea of running was obviously a bad one and I acquiesced, lowering my head for a moment as the officer returned to his vehicle and pulled out around me only to stop and blare the horn impatiently. I steered my own car back onto the street behind him, sweat beading on my brow and the steering wheel quickly growing slick beneath my whitened knuckles. When we arrived at the station, I saw the Chief of Police himself waiting for us. He stormed furiously up to my passenger window, the officer who had detained me falling into step behind him. He gestured for me to roll it down, with which I complied quickly, and he leaned into the car with a growl rumbling in his throat. `` You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago.'' he said in the most mortifying whisper I've ever heard. He reached down toward his hip, concealed behind the frame of my car door thanks to his posture, and then with a speed I'd have not thought possible from someone of his age, snapped his hand back through the window and toward me. My fear-addled mind could not process the object he now held until it fluttered into my lap. `` You're lucky I'm even paying for this.'' he said, pointing at the twenty dollar bill that now lay on my thigh. He snatched his pizza from the passenger seat of my car, cursing me as he turned and walked back into the station. </s>

[ CW ] Grab the nearest book , go to page 73 line 4

**The Silmarillion: `` All who dwelt in Aman were filled with wonder and delight at the work of Fëanor. `` ** No they were n't! Do you have any idea what it's like to be outclassed by that arrogant asshole? It fucking sucks! Everyone's all like, *ooh, look at those three shiny tree-light orbs, they're so fucking shiny! * I, Anorion, am a jeweler. I can make you the finest rings, necklaces, and pendants you have ever seen with the jewels that wash up on the shore by my home. I have crafted a diadem for the Elentári herself, and *no one* seems to give a shit! Ilúvatar, I sometimes wish Melkor'll just steal them! Oh wait...

<s>[INST] [ CW ] Grab the nearest book , go to page 73 line 4 [/INST] **The Silmarillion: `` All who dwelt in Aman were filled with wonder and delight at the work of Fëanor. `` ** No they were n't! Do you have any idea what it's like to be outclassed by that arrogant asshole? It fucking sucks! Everyone's all like, *ooh, look at those three shiny tree-light orbs, they're so fucking shiny! * I, Anorion, am a jeweler. I can make you the finest rings, necklaces, and pendants you have ever seen with the jewels that wash up on the shore by my home. I have crafted a diadem for the Elentári herself, and *no one* seems to give a shit! Ilúvatar, I sometimes wish Melkor'll just steal them! Oh wait... </s>

[ WP ] A sane voice , in an insane mans head .

Fingers dance rhythmically upon his legs, jagged fingernails snagging on the denim fibers, his lips contorted into an ever present smile upon his jaundiced face. Bobbing his head to a tune that does n't exist, he stares blankly at a screen without sound, color or picture, waiting for the commercials to end. The cogs in his mind are dulled, broken and out of place from years of use or misuse one can not say, all that remains is a dark void filled with a single voice that attempts to find some reason or order in the young man's day. “ What do you think you're doing there, huh? ” The disgruntled voice asks as he pulls the cord to a single light in the dark space of the man's head. “ I'm waiting for the show to come back on. Commercials are boring and this channel is stupid. ” he responds, throwing the remote through the screen. “ I'm going to go watch the outdoor channel now. ” Blockhead continues, rising from his seat. “ What do you mean, outdoor channel? You can't-Oh, no. No. You remember what happened the last time you went outside? ” the old man asks, sitting in a small green chair surrounded by numerous empty alcohol bottles. “ Mm-Hm. ” he says, shaking his head vigorously upwards and downwards. “ We played chase with the mail man. ” “ No, he was trying to run away and you were chasing him on all fours with a pack of stray dogs. ” his conscience replies, a deep look of disgust settling on his frowning face as the young man smiles knowingly. “ Listen. Do not go out that door, do you hear me? Stay inside and play with your tongs or something. Just do n't go outside. I'll be right back. ” The old man stands, wiping long silver hairs from his dingy white shirt and walks off into the recesses of the young man's mind. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to leave the house, Blockhead exits through the window, obeying the instructions of his conscience within some small measure of reason. He lands with a thud atop a pile of broken glass, seemingly uninjured as he rises and dusts himself off. “ Mmm. Candy. My favorite. ” he exclaims, picking up a rather large shard of glass and eating it. “ Let's see what adventure I can find today. ” he mumbles through small bits of broken glass spewing from his mouth. He begins making periodic beeping noises as he turns his head, rapidly increasing in pace until spotting two students walking along the sidewalk. “ Field Trip! ” he yells, spilling the remaining pieces of glass onto the ground as he rushes over to follow behind the two. The unknowing trio continue walking for several blocks before reaching a large brick building with a small granite sign on the lawn. Curious as to the contents of this sign, the strange man stops as the other two continue on and into the building, pressing his face against the cool stone sign he reads aloud, “ M. Swain Center, Memorial Library ”. “ Hmm. ” he says, raising from a half-horizontal position, bringing his hand to rest on his chin as he had likely seen someone else do when lost in thought. “ That sounds like... fun. ” he muses, walking up to and entering the building, the door closing behind as his conscience returns with another bottle. “ Oh God, what did you do? You went outside did n't you? ” the old man asks, his palm firmly colliding with his forehead. “ You did, did n't you? I was gone for all of a few minutes and now we're... here. I do n't even know where here is. ” he says with a sigh, opening the bottle early and taking a drink. “ M. Swain Center, Memorial Library ” Blockhead recites proudly as a young woman dressed in a bright blue blazer and skirt approaches him. “ Yes sir, We have the largest selection of books and media in the state. ” she begins with a smile as the yellowed man freezes. “ Is there anything that I can help you with today? ” she says as her eyes focus on the man's appearance. “ A-Are you alright, sir? ” “ Just act natural! ” the old man yells in a panic, seeing that Blockhead has grown tense. The young man attempts to speak before the voice in his head interrupts once more, “ On second thought, do n't act natural. You do n't know what natural is. Just-Just get out of here. ” he commands as the nervous man darts past without another word. Unable to respond, the young lady watches as he dashes out of sight, turning abruptly into a room marked “ story time ”. Blockhead gazes upon the children gathered in a semicircle around an adult, listening as she reads from a picture book. He continues forward, joining the group by pushing two children over to make room. Sitting with his legs folded, he joins in with the “ ooh ” s and “ ah ” s of the captivated crowd. “ Good. Now, just sit here quietly and we'll go home after the story is over. ” his conscience acquiesces as Blockhead listens patiently to the story. “ This story is stupid. ” Blockhead complains angrily, grabbing the book from the adult's hands and tearing it into confetti which rains down upon the children who begin to cry and wail. “ That's better. Story time is fun. ” he says, knocking over several children as he dashes out of the room, several upset parents in tow. The parents, the reader, the young lady, and children all attempt to follow Blockhead through the library as he makes train sounds and continues running through the aisles before slipping away in the maze of bookshelves. They continue searching as he loses himself in the colorful surroundings, the smell of worn pages and leather as he scans the book titles for one that piques his interest. “ You-you know how to read? ” his conscience asks, genuinely surprised and moderately impressed. “ Mm-hmm. ” Blockhead responds quietly, reaching for a dark blue book with golden lettering, the title “ Moby Dick ” boldly emblazoned on its front and spine. He opens the book and begins trailing a finger across its text, turning the pages and making noises of understanding as the old man watches in amazement. He then tears a page from the book, stuffing it into his mouth before chewing and swallowing it. “ Tastes like fish. ” he determines as the angry horde finally catches up with him. They charge at him from both sides as he raises a single finger to his lips and makes a shushing noise that brings them to a crawl. “ Quiet! This is a library. The nerve of some people. ” he whispers to them and to himself, returning the book back to the shelf forcefully, setting off a domino effect as he escapes in the chaos. His conscience watches on in absolute silence, completely stunned. Sitting on the purple couch once more, Blockhead stares at the television as he plays with his tongs. He continues this charade until his conscience can will himself to speak, to say anything that might have some impact, that might make him think about the consequences of his actions. He exhales sharply, giving up on the idea entirely before settling on his usual response. “ So, did you have fun today? ” he asks as the words “ The End ” fall from Blockhead's mouth in reply. -023 ( This story is largely based off of the Blockhead series by Michael Swain, a.k.a TheSwain. I really enjoyed writing this story ( or script, depending on how you look at it ) and I hope that you enjoyed reading it as well. )

<s>[INST] A sane voice , in an insane mans head . [/INST] Fingers dance rhythmically upon his legs, jagged fingernails snagging on the denim fibers, his lips contorted into an ever present smile upon his jaundiced face. Bobbing his head to a tune that does n't exist, he stares blankly at a screen without sound, color or picture, waiting for the commercials to end. The cogs in his mind are dulled, broken and out of place from years of use or misuse one can not say, all that remains is a dark void filled with a single voice that attempts to find some reason or order in the young man's day. “ What do you think you're doing there, huh? ” The disgruntled voice asks as he pulls the cord to a single light in the dark space of the man's head. “ I'm waiting for the show to come back on. Commercials are boring and this channel is stupid. ” he responds, throwing the remote through the screen. “ I'm going to go watch the outdoor channel now. ” Blockhead continues, rising from his seat. “ What do you mean, outdoor channel? You can't-Oh, no. No. You remember what happened the last time you went outside? ” the old man asks, sitting in a small green chair surrounded by numerous empty alcohol bottles. “ Mm-Hm. ” he says, shaking his head vigorously upwards and downwards. “ We played chase with the mail man. ” “ No, he was trying to run away and you were chasing him on all fours with a pack of stray dogs. ” his conscience replies, a deep look of disgust settling on his frowning face as the young man smiles knowingly. “ Listen. Do not go out that door, do you hear me? Stay inside and play with your tongs or something. Just do n't go outside. I'll be right back. ” The old man stands, wiping long silver hairs from his dingy white shirt and walks off into the recesses of the young man's mind. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to leave the house, Blockhead exits through the window, obeying the instructions of his conscience within some small measure of reason. He lands with a thud atop a pile of broken glass, seemingly uninjured as he rises and dusts himself off. “ Mmm. Candy. My favorite. ” he exclaims, picking up a rather large shard of glass and eating it. “ Let's see what adventure I can find today. ” he mumbles through small bits of broken glass spewing from his mouth. He begins making periodic beeping noises as he turns his head, rapidly increasing in pace until spotting two students walking along the sidewalk. “ Field Trip! ” he yells, spilling the remaining pieces of glass onto the ground as he rushes over to follow behind the two. The unknowing trio continue walking for several blocks before reaching a large brick building with a small granite sign on the lawn. Curious as to the contents of this sign, the strange man stops as the other two continue on and into the building, pressing his face against the cool stone sign he reads aloud, “ M. Swain Center, Memorial Library ”. “ Hmm. ” he says, raising from a half-horizontal position, bringing his hand to rest on his chin as he had likely seen someone else do when lost in thought. “ That sounds like... fun. ” he muses, walking up to and entering the building, the door closing behind as his conscience returns with another bottle. “ Oh God, what did you do? You went outside did n't you? ” the old man asks, his palm firmly colliding with his forehead. “ You did, did n't you? I was gone for all of a few minutes and now we're... here. I do n't even know where here is. ” he says with a sigh, opening the bottle early and taking a drink. “ M. Swain Center, Memorial Library ” Blockhead recites proudly as a young woman dressed in a bright blue blazer and skirt approaches him. “ Yes sir, We have the largest selection of books and media in the state. ” she begins with a smile as the yellowed man freezes. “ Is there anything that I can help you with today? ” she says as her eyes focus on the man's appearance. “ A-Are you alright, sir? ” “ Just act natural! ” the old man yells in a panic, seeing that Blockhead has grown tense. The young man attempts to speak before the voice in his head interrupts once more, “ On second thought, do n't act natural. You do n't know what natural is. Just-Just get out of here. ” he commands as the nervous man darts past without another word. Unable to respond, the young lady watches as he dashes out of sight, turning abruptly into a room marked “ story time ”. Blockhead gazes upon the children gathered in a semicircle around an adult, listening as she reads from a picture book. He continues forward, joining the group by pushing two children over to make room. Sitting with his legs folded, he joins in with the “ ooh ” s and “ ah ” s of the captivated crowd. “ Good. Now, just sit here quietly and we'll go home after the story is over. ” his conscience acquiesces as Blockhead listens patiently to the story. “ This story is stupid. ” Blockhead complains angrily, grabbing the book from the adult's hands and tearing it into confetti which rains down upon the children who begin to cry and wail. “ That's better. Story time is fun. ” he says, knocking over several children as he dashes out of the room, several upset parents in tow. The parents, the reader, the young lady, and children all attempt to follow Blockhead through the library as he makes train sounds and continues running through the aisles before slipping away in the maze of bookshelves. They continue searching as he loses himself in the colorful surroundings, the smell of worn pages and leather as he scans the book titles for one that piques his interest. “ You-you know how to read? ” his conscience asks, genuinely surprised and moderately impressed. “ Mm-hmm. ” Blockhead responds quietly, reaching for a dark blue book with golden lettering, the title “ Moby Dick ” boldly emblazoned on its front and spine. He opens the book and begins trailing a finger across its text, turning the pages and making noises of understanding as the old man watches in amazement. He then tears a page from the book, stuffing it into his mouth before chewing and swallowing it. “ Tastes like fish. ” he determines as the angry horde finally catches up with him. They charge at him from both sides as he raises a single finger to his lips and makes a shushing noise that brings them to a crawl. “ Quiet! This is a library. The nerve of some people. ” he whispers to them and to himself, returning the book back to the shelf forcefully, setting off a domino effect as he escapes in the chaos. His conscience watches on in absolute silence, completely stunned. Sitting on the purple couch once more, Blockhead stares at the television as he plays with his tongs. He continues this charade until his conscience can will himself to speak, to say anything that might have some impact, that might make him think about the consequences of his actions. He exhales sharply, giving up on the idea entirely before settling on his usual response. “ So, did you have fun today? ” he asks as the words “ The End ” fall from Blockhead's mouth in reply. -023 ( This story is largely based off of the Blockhead series by Michael Swain, a.k.a TheSwain. I really enjoyed writing this story ( or script, depending on how you look at it ) and I hope that you enjoyed reading it as well. ) </s>

[ WP ] The Hate Factory

What drives a being to anarchy? What in their lives causes them to see the very order that protects and guides them as something terrible and worthy of destruction? Those were the thoughts that troubled Senior Commander Blaze Veron as he stood on the deck of the *Vigil*-class corvette *Antagonizer. * The 255 meter long ship was built in the iconic dagger profile common to the Galactic Empire's powerful Star Destroyers, its pale grey hull blending in with the similar colored armor of its larger brethren. The command deck sat flush with the hull directly above the massive banks of ion engines and provided greater protection than the more exposed towers on other Star Destroyers in battle. Six light turbolasers sat in a trio of turrets on the upper works of the corvette, their long tapered barrels deadly silent. Another half dozen heavy laser cannons were also placed on the dorsal surface, their greater rate of fire making up for the comparatively weaker damage output whilst a series of tractor beam emitters stood ready at the bow to ensnare any enemy ship that dared veer too close. The *Antagonizer* carried within its hull over two hundred men and women and in emergencies carry twice that amount. From his position just behind the conn, he stared out at the Rebel fleet arrayed before him. Even from this distance he could see the smooth, aquatic features of the Mon Calamari cruiser that anchored their battle line. A few former Imperial *Nebulon-B* frigates flew in the shadow of their larger sister ship, testimony to the deviousness and underhanded tactics the Rebels used to fill their fleets. Whether they were stolen, salvaged or else handed over by mutinous crews the frigates had come to be a boon to the nascent Rebel Alliance, and a perpetual thorn in the side of Imperial officers like Veron. Other ships could be seen from the scanners, gunships and corvettes and the like. Veron paid close attention to them above all else; they were his likely opponents in the coming fleet action, an intimate dual whilst the titans slugged it out around them. Lieutenant Gailia Hornigold stood some paces away looking over the engineers report on the deflector shields. Her blonde hair was drawn back into the serious braid just short enough to be within regulations, the four red and blue squares on her left breast denoting her rank. As first officer she preformed her duties brilliantly and Captain Veron noted it as such in his reports, but something about her was... off. Veron chalked it down to subtle feelings for her as so banished them from thought. It was best not to go down that path. His second officer and astronavigator Lieutenant Jacen Thurlo stood towards the back of the command deck with very little to do. Unless their forces had to flee into hyperspace, which was unlikely, his tasks on board were rather limited. Veron therefor assigned him as a `` morale officer'' during combat, his only goal to appear calm and cool in even the worst attack. The captain and XO had to snap orders at any moment and the gunnery officer's attention was fixed on his gunners, the pilots and communication enlisted therefore needed someone they could glance at and know there was nothing to be afraid of. The chief engineer was not on the command deck, nor would he be. Commander Elan Anson was practically mated to his engines, fussing over them like a mother bird over her chicks. But he was good at what he did, and Veron tolerated any eccentricities from his CE. The third officer and the ship's gunnery officer was Lieutenant Kalvon Mer, a rather young looking man from Eriadu. Graduated from the top of his class, the quiet spoken officer was practically a shadow presence-wise. He hardly said a word unless spoken to and during officer's mess tended to remain in the background. Veron regarded him with a slight bit of pity. It must have been difficult growing up if he was always like that but then Mer was a born gunnery officer. In the heat of battle any shyness evaporated and was replaced by a decisiveness unmatched. More than once he gently push aside a gunner to make a shot himself, the blast knocking out shield generators or else the tractor beam capturing the fleeing smuggler. A raised voice from the comm reader recaptured his attention. `` Captain Veron, sir. Admiral Gesiks of the *Vanguard* has order the fleet to deploy. We are to form up on the *Reaper* and screen its advance.'' Captain Veron nodded and smiled grimly at the enemy fleet ahead of them. `` Very good, tell him the message is received. Sound the alarm, prepare for battle.''

<s>[INST] The Hate Factory [/INST] What drives a being to anarchy? What in their lives causes them to see the very order that protects and guides them as something terrible and worthy of destruction? Those were the thoughts that troubled Senior Commander Blaze Veron as he stood on the deck of the *Vigil*-class corvette *Antagonizer. * The 255 meter long ship was built in the iconic dagger profile common to the Galactic Empire's powerful Star Destroyers, its pale grey hull blending in with the similar colored armor of its larger brethren. The command deck sat flush with the hull directly above the massive banks of ion engines and provided greater protection than the more exposed towers on other Star Destroyers in battle. Six light turbolasers sat in a trio of turrets on the upper works of the corvette, their long tapered barrels deadly silent. Another half dozen heavy laser cannons were also placed on the dorsal surface, their greater rate of fire making up for the comparatively weaker damage output whilst a series of tractor beam emitters stood ready at the bow to ensnare any enemy ship that dared veer too close. The *Antagonizer* carried within its hull over two hundred men and women and in emergencies carry twice that amount. From his position just behind the conn, he stared out at the Rebel fleet arrayed before him. Even from this distance he could see the smooth, aquatic features of the Mon Calamari cruiser that anchored their battle line. A few former Imperial *Nebulon-B* frigates flew in the shadow of their larger sister ship, testimony to the deviousness and underhanded tactics the Rebels used to fill their fleets. Whether they were stolen, salvaged or else handed over by mutinous crews the frigates had come to be a boon to the nascent Rebel Alliance, and a perpetual thorn in the side of Imperial officers like Veron. Other ships could be seen from the scanners, gunships and corvettes and the like. Veron paid close attention to them above all else; they were his likely opponents in the coming fleet action, an intimate dual whilst the titans slugged it out around them. Lieutenant Gailia Hornigold stood some paces away looking over the engineers report on the deflector shields. Her blonde hair was drawn back into the serious braid just short enough to be within regulations, the four red and blue squares on her left breast denoting her rank. As first officer she preformed her duties brilliantly and Captain Veron noted it as such in his reports, but something about her was... off. Veron chalked it down to subtle feelings for her as so banished them from thought. It was best not to go down that path. His second officer and astronavigator Lieutenant Jacen Thurlo stood towards the back of the command deck with very little to do. Unless their forces had to flee into hyperspace, which was unlikely, his tasks on board were rather limited. Veron therefor assigned him as a `` morale officer'' during combat, his only goal to appear calm and cool in even the worst attack. The captain and XO had to snap orders at any moment and the gunnery officer's attention was fixed on his gunners, the pilots and communication enlisted therefore needed someone they could glance at and know there was nothing to be afraid of. The chief engineer was not on the command deck, nor would he be. Commander Elan Anson was practically mated to his engines, fussing over them like a mother bird over her chicks. But he was good at what he did, and Veron tolerated any eccentricities from his CE. The third officer and the ship's gunnery officer was Lieutenant Kalvon Mer, a rather young looking man from Eriadu. Graduated from the top of his class, the quiet spoken officer was practically a shadow presence-wise. He hardly said a word unless spoken to and during officer's mess tended to remain in the background. Veron regarded him with a slight bit of pity. It must have been difficult growing up if he was always like that but then Mer was a born gunnery officer. In the heat of battle any shyness evaporated and was replaced by a decisiveness unmatched. More than once he gently push aside a gunner to make a shot himself, the blast knocking out shield generators or else the tractor beam capturing the fleeing smuggler. A raised voice from the comm reader recaptured his attention. `` Captain Veron, sir. Admiral Gesiks of the *Vanguard* has order the fleet to deploy. We are to form up on the *Reaper* and screen its advance.'' Captain Veron nodded and smiled grimly at the enemy fleet ahead of them. `` Very good, tell him the message is received. Sound the alarm, prepare for battle.'' </s>

[ WP ] You have attempted to sell your soul to the Devil . Unfortunately for you , he does n't want it .

`` Wh..what?'' I stuttered over the phone line. My brain felt as though it had shut down, probably in shock, to the words I'd just heard. `` I'm sorry Ma'am but I'm afraid we just can not purchase your item.'' The tinny voice of the sales-woman repeated to me in a bored tone. It was as if she repeated this line on a regular basis, which frankly seemed quite stupid. I know I'm not the only one who has wanted to sell their soul. They're in hot demand! Who does n't want to buy fresh souls, all the more powerful when willingly given! `` I..uh..can I... I need to speak to your manager.'' The shock was slowly wearing off, and my irritation started to show through. `` Please.'' I tacked onto the end. A sigh came from the other end of the phone line. A sigh! Can you believe the nerve of this woman!? What does a person have to do these days to speak to the devil! Ever since Lucy and co. ( Your one stop shop for all satanic, demonic, and wiccan needs! ) opened, the need for satanic rituals and virgin sacrifices has been non-existent. Yet here I was, being fobbed by a prissy nosed receptionist. `` I'll see what I can do, please hold.'' I frowned at the click from the earpiece and waited for the hold music. I was quietly relieved when the semi-rythmic wailing crackled through, as I was sure she was going to hang up on me. My mind was racing along all the reasons why my soul would be unworthy of purchase. Maybe I'm just too broken? I mean, I'd had my fair share of soul-crushing experiences ( and everyone knows how that chips away at the re-sale value ) but less than Daniel, and he sold his just last week! Could it be the church visits my mother forced me into every holidays? I hated those things with a passion but I did n't think it would affect my opportunities like this. Thrice-damned mother of mine. Maybe it was my reason for sale. I had n't heard of that making much difference before, the reviews I found seemed to vary greatly in reasoning with no issues with the company. But could I be the first? I wanted a bit of success, thats all. Luck, more than success really. I've heard it's more worthwhile to go for luck, less loopholes to bite your arse. And is wanting luck, especially with the ladies, such a bad thing? These days the women are so picky. Especially if you've had any sort of... heterosexual....interests. So I slept with one guy once, so what!? I'm still a perfectly caring and capable partner despite that little social blemish. Women! `` Thank you for holding, Lucy will speak to you now.'' I'd jumped at the sudden interruption of her calm tone in the midst of my mental rant, and almost dropped the phone. I fumbled for a moment and got it pressed back to my ear. `` Erin! Hi! How are you? Thanks for calling dear, I hear you're having some problems with our sales team. How can I help?'' I could hear the grin in Lucy's voice as She spoke. All charm and self-confidence. `` I've been informed, that you wo n't buy my soul. What the heavens is wrong with it! It's perfectly useable I'm sure!'' I had barely held back from actually yelling, I did n't think it would be a good idea to rant and rave too much at the CEO of the damned. `` Uh, well, Erin. I'm very sorry about this but there's just absolutely no way I can fix this one for you. You see-....'' `` No way? No way!? You bought Jeremy's soul for a lifetime of Tim-Tams! And he was a devout disciple of God his whole life, and slept with WOMEN! And you wo n't take mine?'' There was a pause, almost audible and very heavy. As I started to worry I'd gone too far and angered Her she started to speak softly. `` The..uh... the stars.'' `` What?'' I exclaimed again. `` I ca n't hear you.'' `` The stars. They're uh... not in alignment.'' She spoke with more gusto this time. Almost as if she was agreeing with herself. `` Nope. Ca n't do it, not this cycle. They are n't in alignment.'' I had no answer to this... this... ludicrous excuse. The stars? This is n't the Inca fucking Empire! The stars are n't even used! What am I, baby flipping Jesus now? Selling my soul to the three wise men? Oh please give me more stupidity. `` You're lying. Stop lying and buy my soul!'' Another pause, and an extremely weary sigh. `` Look, Erin. I really hate to tell you the truth but I see no other way around it. You do n't have any sort of soul for me to buy. Otherwise you'd be happily lucky already. There, now thankyou and goodbye.'' `` Wait wait wait! No soul? But how? I'm sure I have one! Everyone does!'' This was beyond belief. No soul? No way. `` Not everyone. I'm afraid the only way for you to sell your soul, is if you steal one first. I can connect you to the appropriate department if you'd like though.'' I stood in uncomprehending silence for what felt like an eternity. No soul. I had no soul. What was I meant to think about that? We're taught at a young age that everyone has a soul, otherwise you're dead. Thats just how it works, and now I'm finding out that thats wrong? Make way for an existential crisis! Thanks Lucy! `` I do n't understand. Please help me understand.'' I almost sobbed into the phone. `` I do n't know how I lost it. I thought I kept such good care of it too.'' `` You did n't lose it dear. You never had one.'' She took a breath. `` Darling, you're a ginger.'' -click, beep beep beep- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - C & C welcome!

<s>[INST] You have attempted to sell your soul to the Devil . Unfortunately for you , he does n't want it . [/INST] `` Wh..what?'' I stuttered over the phone line. My brain felt as though it had shut down, probably in shock, to the words I'd just heard. `` I'm sorry Ma'am but I'm afraid we just can not purchase your item.'' The tinny voice of the sales-woman repeated to me in a bored tone. It was as if she repeated this line on a regular basis, which frankly seemed quite stupid. I know I'm not the only one who has wanted to sell their soul. They're in hot demand! Who does n't want to buy fresh souls, all the more powerful when willingly given! `` I..uh..can I... I need to speak to your manager.'' The shock was slowly wearing off, and my irritation started to show through. `` Please.'' I tacked onto the end. A sigh came from the other end of the phone line. A sigh! Can you believe the nerve of this woman!? What does a person have to do these days to speak to the devil! Ever since Lucy and co. ( Your one stop shop for all satanic, demonic, and wiccan needs! ) opened, the need for satanic rituals and virgin sacrifices has been non-existent. Yet here I was, being fobbed by a prissy nosed receptionist. `` I'll see what I can do, please hold.'' I frowned at the click from the earpiece and waited for the hold music. I was quietly relieved when the semi-rythmic wailing crackled through, as I was sure she was going to hang up on me. My mind was racing along all the reasons why my soul would be unworthy of purchase. Maybe I'm just too broken? I mean, I'd had my fair share of soul-crushing experiences ( and everyone knows how that chips away at the re-sale value ) but less than Daniel, and he sold his just last week! Could it be the church visits my mother forced me into every holidays? I hated those things with a passion but I did n't think it would affect my opportunities like this. Thrice-damned mother of mine. Maybe it was my reason for sale. I had n't heard of that making much difference before, the reviews I found seemed to vary greatly in reasoning with no issues with the company. But could I be the first? I wanted a bit of success, thats all. Luck, more than success really. I've heard it's more worthwhile to go for luck, less loopholes to bite your arse. And is wanting luck, especially with the ladies, such a bad thing? These days the women are so picky. Especially if you've had any sort of... heterosexual....interests. So I slept with one guy once, so what!? I'm still a perfectly caring and capable partner despite that little social blemish. Women! `` Thank you for holding, Lucy will speak to you now.'' I'd jumped at the sudden interruption of her calm tone in the midst of my mental rant, and almost dropped the phone. I fumbled for a moment and got it pressed back to my ear. `` Erin! Hi! How are you? Thanks for calling dear, I hear you're having some problems with our sales team. How can I help?'' I could hear the grin in Lucy's voice as She spoke. All charm and self-confidence. `` I've been informed, that you wo n't buy my soul. What the heavens is wrong with it! It's perfectly useable I'm sure!'' I had barely held back from actually yelling, I did n't think it would be a good idea to rant and rave too much at the CEO of the damned. `` Uh, well, Erin. I'm very sorry about this but there's just absolutely no way I can fix this one for you. You see-....'' `` No way? No way!? You bought Jeremy's soul for a lifetime of Tim-Tams! And he was a devout disciple of God his whole life, and slept with WOMEN! And you wo n't take mine?'' There was a pause, almost audible and very heavy. As I started to worry I'd gone too far and angered Her she started to speak softly. `` The..uh... the stars.'' `` What?'' I exclaimed again. `` I ca n't hear you.'' `` The stars. They're uh... not in alignment.'' She spoke with more gusto this time. Almost as if she was agreeing with herself. `` Nope. Ca n't do it, not this cycle. They are n't in alignment.'' I had no answer to this... this... ludicrous excuse. The stars? This is n't the Inca fucking Empire! The stars are n't even used! What am I, baby flipping Jesus now? Selling my soul to the three wise men? Oh please give me more stupidity. `` You're lying. Stop lying and buy my soul!'' Another pause, and an extremely weary sigh. `` Look, Erin. I really hate to tell you the truth but I see no other way around it. You do n't have any sort of soul for me to buy. Otherwise you'd be happily lucky already. There, now thankyou and goodbye.'' `` Wait wait wait! No soul? But how? I'm sure I have one! Everyone does!'' This was beyond belief. No soul? No way. `` Not everyone. I'm afraid the only way for you to sell your soul, is if you steal one first. I can connect you to the appropriate department if you'd like though.'' I stood in uncomprehending silence for what felt like an eternity. No soul. I had no soul. What was I meant to think about that? We're taught at a young age that everyone has a soul, otherwise you're dead. Thats just how it works, and now I'm finding out that thats wrong? Make way for an existential crisis! Thanks Lucy! `` I do n't understand. Please help me understand.'' I almost sobbed into the phone. `` I do n't know how I lost it. I thought I kept such good care of it too.'' `` You did n't lose it dear. You never had one.'' She took a breath. `` Darling, you're a ginger.'' -click, beep beep beep- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - C & C welcome! </s>

[ WP ] A revolutionary new dandruff shampoo hits the shelves and sells millions of bottles . As the CEO , you are just now finding out it increases dandruff , not the other way around .

A knock comes from the CEO's door. A startled young secretary with an urgent look on her face comes busting through the door. `` What, what is it? Ca n't you see I'm a bit busy here managing all of our exports?'' `` Mr. Nick, i have something important to announce!'' `` Well, spit it out! Is it good news or bad news? Did you finally take care of those extra shipments we're currently sending? The demand is so high! We're gon na be rich!'' `` Well sir... it's really really bad news.'' `` I have n't got all day, hit me with the news'' He says as he lightens up his cigar `` You see, all the clients that bought our new shampoo product are saying that it does n't work and that they all want all of their money back.'' `` Hah, nice one, made me giggle on the inside. What else are you gon na tell me? That the shampoo gives them dandruff instead of removing it too? I do n't like jokers in my office.'' `` Sorry to tell you that I'm not joking and also the clients have also stated reports of increased dandruff than they ever had before, and guess what they blame it on? The shampoo.'' She says that as she hands him the clipboard with all the statistical info `` No.. It ca n't be! Why did this happen!? Whose fault was this? Did n't we test the product before shipping it and advertising it!?'' He said as his cigar fell all the way to the ground below his fancy leather chair `` The scientists who made the main chemicals for the product said that they were so positive and proud of this so called breakthrough they made, that they did n't decide to test it to ship it quicker.'' `` Quick! We need to convince the investors! Goddamn it, those proud ass scientists are gon na lose their jobs and not find it ever again the moment I see them!'' Eventually they could n't convince the investors so they all left, all the clients were angry and rioted until they all got their refunds and the company lost millions.

<s>[INST] A revolutionary new dandruff shampoo hits the shelves and sells millions of bottles . As the CEO , you are just now finding out it increases dandruff , not the other way around . [/INST] A knock comes from the CEO's door. A startled young secretary with an urgent look on her face comes busting through the door. `` What, what is it? Ca n't you see I'm a bit busy here managing all of our exports?'' `` Mr. Nick, i have something important to announce!'' `` Well, spit it out! Is it good news or bad news? Did you finally take care of those extra shipments we're currently sending? The demand is so high! We're gon na be rich!'' `` Well sir... it's really really bad news.'' `` I have n't got all day, hit me with the news'' He says as he lightens up his cigar `` You see, all the clients that bought our new shampoo product are saying that it does n't work and that they all want all of their money back.'' `` Hah, nice one, made me giggle on the inside. What else are you gon na tell me? That the shampoo gives them dandruff instead of removing it too? I do n't like jokers in my office.'' `` Sorry to tell you that I'm not joking and also the clients have also stated reports of increased dandruff than they ever had before, and guess what they blame it on? The shampoo.'' She says that as she hands him the clipboard with all the statistical info `` No.. It ca n't be! Why did this happen!? Whose fault was this? Did n't we test the product before shipping it and advertising it!?'' He said as his cigar fell all the way to the ground below his fancy leather chair `` The scientists who made the main chemicals for the product said that they were so positive and proud of this so called breakthrough they made, that they did n't decide to test it to ship it quicker.'' `` Quick! We need to convince the investors! Goddamn it, those proud ass scientists are gon na lose their jobs and not find it ever again the moment I see them!'' Eventually they could n't convince the investors so they all left, all the clients were angry and rioted until they all got their refunds and the company lost millions. </s>

[ WP ] God realized that he forgot to put souls in humans .

That last day was exactly what God needed. He woke from his slumber and rubbed the sand from his eyes. God lumbered out of bed and stood in the kitchen, bleary eyed and wondering what to have for breakfast. He then saw it, a small burlap sack poking a small corner of itself into view. `` Shit,'' said God. He grabbed the sack and frantically grabbed at the contents, pulling out an incomprehensible slurry of pure essence. He read the words on the side of the bag. *Souls: do n't forget. VERY IMPORTANT!!! -God* `` Shit.'' He said once more, `` I hate Monday's.'' And on the eighth day God said, `` what could possibly go wrong?'' And it was good enough.

<s>[INST] God realized that he forgot to put souls in humans . [/INST] That last day was exactly what God needed. He woke from his slumber and rubbed the sand from his eyes. God lumbered out of bed and stood in the kitchen, bleary eyed and wondering what to have for breakfast. He then saw it, a small burlap sack poking a small corner of itself into view. `` Shit,'' said God. He grabbed the sack and frantically grabbed at the contents, pulling out an incomprehensible slurry of pure essence. He read the words on the side of the bag. *Souls: do n't forget. VERY IMPORTANT!!! -God* `` Shit.'' He said once more, `` I hate Monday's.'' And on the eighth day God said, `` what could possibly go wrong?'' And it was good enough. </s>

[ WP ] You are God , and the time for the rapture has come .

I ’ ve looked forward to this day since things went wrong. Ok, yeah. I know. I exist outside of time. But I ’ m just trying to capture the significance of this moment. You see, this is like the triumphant crescendo in the symphony of the cosmos which I both wrote and conducted. The chaotic cacophony surges emphatically onward seemingly without end. Then, this final crash of cymbals, this last clap of thunder, my one triumphant trumpet sounds, and a resolved, contented silence settles at last. And the people wait with ears ringing and bated breath. And my conductor ’ s baton holds steady at its highest point. And I descend. And the music begins again. Softly. Sweetly. All dissonance has gone and only gentle melody carries my rapturous symphony onward, upward into eternity. You see, I ’ ve looked forward to this day since things went wrong. I ’ ve ached for this day. I ’ ve bled for this day. I ’ ve died for this day to come. For the tension to be resolved, for my people to come home, for their home to be restored. And yet I am sad. A bitter-sweetness lingers. A foul chord reverberates on my heartstrings as my beautiful symphony continues. I hold this moment of joyful reunion and this painful separation all at once. For not all come home to be restored. Many, too many, will never hear this song of satisfaction and joy and peace. Having become enthralled with the dissonance, they have chosen it as their eternal soundtrack, never capturing the restorative rhythms which I had hoped they would learn. I've looked forward to this day since things went wrong. But in sweetness and in sorrow we move forward into eternity. This is my first ever response to a writing prompt. Gave it about 20 minutes. Very novice writer. Any feedback/criticism/critique is definitely welcome!

<s>[INST] You are God , and the time for the rapture has come . [/INST] I ’ ve looked forward to this day since things went wrong. Ok, yeah. I know. I exist outside of time. But I ’ m just trying to capture the significance of this moment. You see, this is like the triumphant crescendo in the symphony of the cosmos which I both wrote and conducted. The chaotic cacophony surges emphatically onward seemingly without end. Then, this final crash of cymbals, this last clap of thunder, my one triumphant trumpet sounds, and a resolved, contented silence settles at last. And the people wait with ears ringing and bated breath. And my conductor ’ s baton holds steady at its highest point. And I descend. And the music begins again. Softly. Sweetly. All dissonance has gone and only gentle melody carries my rapturous symphony onward, upward into eternity. You see, I ’ ve looked forward to this day since things went wrong. I ’ ve ached for this day. I ’ ve bled for this day. I ’ ve died for this day to come. For the tension to be resolved, for my people to come home, for their home to be restored. And yet I am sad. A bitter-sweetness lingers. A foul chord reverberates on my heartstrings as my beautiful symphony continues. I hold this moment of joyful reunion and this painful separation all at once. For not all come home to be restored. Many, too many, will never hear this song of satisfaction and joy and peace. Having become enthralled with the dissonance, they have chosen it as their eternal soundtrack, never capturing the restorative rhythms which I had hoped they would learn. I've looked forward to this day since things went wrong. But in sweetness and in sorrow we move forward into eternity. This is my first ever response to a writing prompt. Gave it about 20 minutes. Very novice writer. Any feedback/criticism/critique is definitely welcome! </s>

[ WP ] A stalker follows his victim for months , only to find that the `` victim '' has fallen madly in love with the stalker . Turn the story around and made the hunter the hunted .

He had followed me for months. I'd watched him follow me. He thought he was sneaky. He was n't. He was average height, nothing exciting. He was below average in looks, too. His dull green eyes drooped slightly, his nose hooked heavily. He had ears too small for his head, and he had a weak jawline that was contributed by the fat that enveloped his body. I had been able to keep an eye on him. His mannerisms, his treatment of others. He was so kind to people, I had watched him buy a poor little kid a new ice cream after he dropped his. Of course he bought himself one, and he ate it messily. He always ate messily. I do n't think it was intentional though. As I started to watch him, watch me, I dressed more risque, hoping he would come to me sooner. I knew he lusted after me. And god did I lust after him. He had been watching me for months, and I had been watching him.

<s>[INST] A stalker follows his victim for months , only to find that the `` victim '' has fallen madly in love with the stalker . Turn the story around and made the hunter the hunted . [/INST] He had followed me for months. I'd watched him follow me. He thought he was sneaky. He was n't. He was average height, nothing exciting. He was below average in looks, too. His dull green eyes drooped slightly, his nose hooked heavily. He had ears too small for his head, and he had a weak jawline that was contributed by the fat that enveloped his body. I had been able to keep an eye on him. His mannerisms, his treatment of others. He was so kind to people, I had watched him buy a poor little kid a new ice cream after he dropped his. Of course he bought himself one, and he ate it messily. He always ate messily. I do n't think it was intentional though. As I started to watch him, watch me, I dressed more risque, hoping he would come to me sooner. I knew he lusted after me. And god did I lust after him. He had been watching me for months, and I had been watching him. </s>

[ WP ] You pull the thermometer out of the medicine cabinet and slip on the plastic sleeve . You put it in your mouth and , upon hearing the beep , pull it out to see 98.6 degrees . You are perfectly healthy . Then you notice the little C instead of an F .

Blinking, Carlos narrowed his eyes. Celsius? 98.6 degrees Celsius!? That's enough to boil the water in his body, he was about to fry alive! Then he thought about it. Would n't he have already if he was going to? I mean 98 degrees is a lot in the metric system. Maybe something was wrong with the thermometer? As he thought this, he realized there was something wrong with the thermometer, as in it was on fire in his hand. A hand that was now glowing red like super-heated metal. Panickedly, he dropped the thermometer and screamed as the carpet caught fire from his blazing shoes and the melted goo that splattered on it. Rapidly, flames rose around him, and he screamed again. Then he stopped. He was n't burning. He did n't feel all that hot. His clothes had burned off, but he was unbothered by the heat. Then Carlos remembered that he lived on the bottom floor of the complex. `` **Shit. **''

<s>[INST] You pull the thermometer out of the medicine cabinet and slip on the plastic sleeve . You put it in your mouth and , upon hearing the beep , pull it out to see 98.6 degrees . You are perfectly healthy . Then you notice the little C instead of an F . [/INST] Blinking, Carlos narrowed his eyes. Celsius? 98.6 degrees Celsius!? That's enough to boil the water in his body, he was about to fry alive! Then he thought about it. Would n't he have already if he was going to? I mean 98 degrees is a lot in the metric system. Maybe something was wrong with the thermometer? As he thought this, he realized there was something wrong with the thermometer, as in it was on fire in his hand. A hand that was now glowing red like super-heated metal. Panickedly, he dropped the thermometer and screamed as the carpet caught fire from his blazing shoes and the melted goo that splattered on it. Rapidly, flames rose around him, and he screamed again. Then he stopped. He was n't burning. He did n't feel all that hot. His clothes had burned off, but he was unbothered by the heat. Then Carlos remembered that he lived on the bottom floor of the complex. `` **Shit. **'' </s>

[ WP ] The daily life of a muggleborn who realizes that they are in some way magical , but never gets a Hogwarts letter

He sat most days staring out his tiny window. He was sure, sooner or later, somebody, perhaps the great Minerva Mcgonagall, would send for him. Perhaps if he opened the window with his little finger again... One more time. He could n't ever understand what had occurred that made him this way. Bedridden as long as he could remember. Sweaty, restless, immovable. His mother cried. His father never looked him in the eye. Sometimes when he got angry, he could move things with that little finger on his left hand. His cousin had gotten into one of those schools. The ones that existed only in hushed tones, to those that did n't have `` the ability''. He had seen their funny newspaper in the hospital one time. He tried to ask his mother, `` do you see this shit? That news paper's, photos are moving. As if they were fucking movies. Do you not fucking see this?'' All that came out, was an unintelligible gasp, a rasp, and a growl. The little finger moved. The peculiar newspaper tore in half. He made eye contact with the reader, through the wreckage of the paper they held. The reader grinned at him. Not evil, but not at all honest. They reader raised a black gloved finger to their mouth and shook their head. He could hear a voice in the back of his mind, amidst the faint memories of birthday parties, and fear of spiders. `` they would n't believe you if you could tell them anyway.'' The reader got up, and walked away tucking the newspaper under their arm. He would open the window with that little finger many more times. Never did his letter come for him, but the breeze felt serene.

<s>[INST] The daily life of a muggleborn who realizes that they are in some way magical , but never gets a Hogwarts letter [/INST] He sat most days staring out his tiny window. He was sure, sooner or later, somebody, perhaps the great Minerva Mcgonagall, would send for him. Perhaps if he opened the window with his little finger again... One more time. He could n't ever understand what had occurred that made him this way. Bedridden as long as he could remember. Sweaty, restless, immovable. His mother cried. His father never looked him in the eye. Sometimes when he got angry, he could move things with that little finger on his left hand. His cousin had gotten into one of those schools. The ones that existed only in hushed tones, to those that did n't have `` the ability''. He had seen their funny newspaper in the hospital one time. He tried to ask his mother, `` do you see this shit? That news paper's, photos are moving. As if they were fucking movies. Do you not fucking see this?'' All that came out, was an unintelligible gasp, a rasp, and a growl. The little finger moved. The peculiar newspaper tore in half. He made eye contact with the reader, through the wreckage of the paper they held. The reader grinned at him. Not evil, but not at all honest. They reader raised a black gloved finger to their mouth and shook their head. He could hear a voice in the back of his mind, amidst the faint memories of birthday parties, and fear of spiders. `` they would n't believe you if you could tell them anyway.'' The reader got up, and walked away tucking the newspaper under their arm. He would open the window with that little finger many more times. Never did his letter come for him, but the breeze felt serene. </s>

[ WP ] A man was suddenly separated from everything and everyone he had on Jan 25 , 2010 . He finally let 's go of his past , finds true love , and is happier than ever . The next morning , his mind is cloudy and he is in his old bed again . The calendar reads 1.25.2010

I looked out the window for a long time, gathering my thoughts. After five minutes, I decided that it had n't been real. Well, the has real in that it was a dream. Some points were indistinct, slipping away from me. I wrote down the key points, like names, places. The more I wrote, the more I remembered. There were a few sticking points, where I mis-remembered but I'm confident I can work it out eventually. At first, I wanted to cry. Tears welled up after I woke up, initially I could n't help but feel lost. But as I wrote down what I remembered, as I began to feel that it was a map, a guide, to my future happiness... well... the more I believed it was... could be... true. Now I know what to do. Who else could boast the same?

<s>[INST] A man was suddenly separated from everything and everyone he had on Jan 25 , 2010 . He finally let 's go of his past , finds true love , and is happier than ever . The next morning , his mind is cloudy and he is in his old bed again . The calendar reads 1.25.2010 [/INST] I looked out the window for a long time, gathering my thoughts. After five minutes, I decided that it had n't been real. Well, the has real in that it was a dream. Some points were indistinct, slipping away from me. I wrote down the key points, like names, places. The more I wrote, the more I remembered. There were a few sticking points, where I mis-remembered but I'm confident I can work it out eventually. At first, I wanted to cry. Tears welled up after I woke up, initially I could n't help but feel lost. But as I wrote down what I remembered, as I began to feel that it was a map, a guide, to my future happiness... well... the more I believed it was... could be... true. Now I know what to do. Who else could boast the same? </s>

[ WP ] You are an commercial airline pilot flying from LA to NYC , when you receive word from the ground that a major nuclear attack has taken place across the United States .

The radio hung in a moment of dead air as I digested the news from the FAA. Planes were dropping out of the sky across the nation as waves of EM rippled off the nukes. No commercial airliner was hardened against them. All it would take is a flash in the distance to bring us crashing down. My copilot, Diane, shook me. `` Snap out of it Jake, we need to take this bird to ground fast!'' She had been an Air Force pilot and trained for just such an occasion. I gripped the yoke tightly and squeezed, she took to the PA. `` All passengers lock yourselves down. We are in an emergency landing situation. We are taking this plane into a controlled decent while we still have power.'' Diane did n't wait for steward confirmation, just cut the mic and began scanning the ground for a suitable strip of road. I was already dropping altitude as fast as I felt safe with people moving about the cabin. `` There!'' She pointed out the window at a stretch of highway, `` Faster Jake. We do not want to be airborne if it...'' Cutting her off was a fireball expanding to the East, we saw the shockwave in the air as it shook the plane. The lights went out, the stick went dead. We looked at one another in that moment of intimate impending death. Something in my primal lizard brain took over, `` Hydraulics!'' We both turned our attention to the limited mechanical systems at our disposal and attempted to turn this metal meteor into a gliding metal rock. Not an easy task at this weight/lift ratio. The nose picked up slightly, but we were still in a dangerous decent. The ground came rushing at us. Her hand laid on mine as I pulled back on the flaps as hard as I could. It was all we could do before -

<s>[INST] You are an commercial airline pilot flying from LA to NYC , when you receive word from the ground that a major nuclear attack has taken place across the United States . [/INST] The radio hung in a moment of dead air as I digested the news from the FAA. Planes were dropping out of the sky across the nation as waves of EM rippled off the nukes. No commercial airliner was hardened against them. All it would take is a flash in the distance to bring us crashing down. My copilot, Diane, shook me. `` Snap out of it Jake, we need to take this bird to ground fast!'' She had been an Air Force pilot and trained for just such an occasion. I gripped the yoke tightly and squeezed, she took to the PA. `` All passengers lock yourselves down. We are in an emergency landing situation. We are taking this plane into a controlled decent while we still have power.'' Diane did n't wait for steward confirmation, just cut the mic and began scanning the ground for a suitable strip of road. I was already dropping altitude as fast as I felt safe with people moving about the cabin. `` There!'' She pointed out the window at a stretch of highway, `` Faster Jake. We do not want to be airborne if it...'' Cutting her off was a fireball expanding to the East, we saw the shockwave in the air as it shook the plane. The lights went out, the stick went dead. We looked at one another in that moment of intimate impending death. Something in my primal lizard brain took over, `` Hydraulics!'' We both turned our attention to the limited mechanical systems at our disposal and attempted to turn this metal meteor into a gliding metal rock. Not an easy task at this weight/lift ratio. The nose picked up slightly, but we were still in a dangerous decent. The ground came rushing at us. Her hand laid on mine as I pulled back on the flaps as hard as I could. It was all we could do before - </s>

[ WP ] After living an environmentally careless life , you meet your great-grandchild from the future .

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT A glow falls over the bedroom from the moonlight breaching through the curtains. Robert, sleeping in his bed, is violently brought to a stunned state of awake. Through the room he pans his view to fall on a mysterious child at the end of his bed dressed in all white. # # # # # # CHILD ( whispering ) Hello Robert # # # # # # ROBERT ( confused, a little scared ) Um... Who are you? What are you doing in my house? In my bedroom? # # # # # # CHILD I am your great grand child Roberta. # # # # # # ROBERT That's impossible, I do n't have any children. # # # # # # CHILD Yet. # # # # # # ROBERT Yet? What do you mean yet? # # # # # # CHILD I am from the future. I am your great-grandchild. # # # # # # ROBERT I... I'm going to have children? # # # # # # CHILD Yes, yes you will, you will have many children, and those children will have children and those children will have children, and it will stop there. # # # # # # ROBERT What do you mean it will stop there? # # # # # # CHILD You have a lasting effect on this planet you know. The decisions you make, no matter how small, no matter how large, will effect the generations to come. # # # # # # ROBERT What do you mean? # # # # # # CHILD You are destroying this planet Robert. # # # # # # ROBERT Oh that is just ridiculous. There is no way what I am doing can possibly be effecting the planet. You going around and visiting everyone on Earth? Cause there is no way in the world you are going... # # # # # # CHILD Just one person, doing everything they can to make a difference, helps. You may not realize it now, and the effects may not be seen in your lifetime, but if you have a care in the world, I would not be doomed to a miserable life. # # # # # # ROBERT I did n't realize I was doing such bad things to the planet. # # # # # # CHILD You are just a small part of the problem. We future generations have developed such amazing technologies that are aimed at dealing with the damages your generation has caused. I can not even begin to think about what we could accomplish if we did n't have to focus all of our research on reversing the almost irreversible damage the people of this time have caused. # # # # # # ROBERT I did n't know. # # # # # # CHILD You need to start doing things differently. Start getting the word out. Start talking to your local politicians, start a movement. Climate change is real. The world as you know it does not exist in the future, a barren waste land awaits your future generations of kids. Please, start now in turning this idea around. # # # # # # ROBERT I do n't know if I can do it alone. # # # # # # CHILD You will have help. I'm not the only one traveling back, but you need to do your part or my future kids will not exist. # # # # # # ROBERT I'll do what I can. With that, the child disappeared. Robert laid awake in bed the rest of the night trying to figure out what to do. INT. KITCHEN - MORNING Robert walks into the kitchen and turns on the coffee maker. He turns back to the television and turns on the news. # # # # # # BROADCASTER In a crazy last minute organization, people from around the world are protesting climate denial and demanding nations of the world start shifting gears to make the planet healthy. We pan back over to where Robert was standing in the kitchen, he is gone, and we hear the a door slam. FADE OUT. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - For more of my little stories, please visit /r/expiredcheese

<s>[INST] After living an environmentally careless life , you meet your great-grandchild from the future . [/INST] INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT A glow falls over the bedroom from the moonlight breaching through the curtains. Robert, sleeping in his bed, is violently brought to a stunned state of awake. Through the room he pans his view to fall on a mysterious child at the end of his bed dressed in all white. # # # # # # CHILD ( whispering ) Hello Robert # # # # # # ROBERT ( confused, a little scared ) Um... Who are you? What are you doing in my house? In my bedroom? # # # # # # CHILD I am your great grand child Roberta. # # # # # # ROBERT That's impossible, I do n't have any children. # # # # # # CHILD Yet. # # # # # # ROBERT Yet? What do you mean yet? # # # # # # CHILD I am from the future. I am your great-grandchild. # # # # # # ROBERT I... I'm going to have children? # # # # # # CHILD Yes, yes you will, you will have many children, and those children will have children and those children will have children, and it will stop there. # # # # # # ROBERT What do you mean it will stop there? # # # # # # CHILD You have a lasting effect on this planet you know. The decisions you make, no matter how small, no matter how large, will effect the generations to come. # # # # # # ROBERT What do you mean? # # # # # # CHILD You are destroying this planet Robert. # # # # # # ROBERT Oh that is just ridiculous. There is no way what I am doing can possibly be effecting the planet. You going around and visiting everyone on Earth? Cause there is no way in the world you are going... # # # # # # CHILD Just one person, doing everything they can to make a difference, helps. You may not realize it now, and the effects may not be seen in your lifetime, but if you have a care in the world, I would not be doomed to a miserable life. # # # # # # ROBERT I did n't realize I was doing such bad things to the planet. # # # # # # CHILD You are just a small part of the problem. We future generations have developed such amazing technologies that are aimed at dealing with the damages your generation has caused. I can not even begin to think about what we could accomplish if we did n't have to focus all of our research on reversing the almost irreversible damage the people of this time have caused. # # # # # # ROBERT I did n't know. # # # # # # CHILD You need to start doing things differently. Start getting the word out. Start talking to your local politicians, start a movement. Climate change is real. The world as you know it does not exist in the future, a barren waste land awaits your future generations of kids. Please, start now in turning this idea around. # # # # # # ROBERT I do n't know if I can do it alone. # # # # # # CHILD You will have help. I'm not the only one traveling back, but you need to do your part or my future kids will not exist. # # # # # # ROBERT I'll do what I can. With that, the child disappeared. Robert laid awake in bed the rest of the night trying to figure out what to do. INT. KITCHEN - MORNING Robert walks into the kitchen and turns on the coffee maker. He turns back to the television and turns on the news. # # # # # # BROADCASTER In a crazy last minute organization, people from around the world are protesting climate denial and demanding nations of the world start shifting gears to make the planet healthy. We pan back over to where Robert was standing in the kitchen, he is gone, and we hear the a door slam. FADE OUT. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - For more of my little stories, please visit /r/expiredcheese </s>

[ WP ] Rock , Paper and Scissor goes to an anger management course together , in order to stop the fighting between themselves .

`` Now class. One must realize that the first step to recovery is through recognizing you have a problem. And that is why you are all here today.'' The teacher spoke. `` No, it's because of that damn court order,'' Rock murmured. The classroom roared with laughter. The teacher, oblivious to the fact that he was being mocked, smiled. `` Well, it's good that you can all laugh and joke around, especially on your first day here!'' `` And hopefully the last.'' Scissor snickered. Again, the class found that quite amusing. The teacher reluctantly smiled. `` Okay class. I'm going to call attendance. Rick?'' `` Here.'' `` Jessica?'' `` Here.'' `` Scissor?'' `` I do n't mind doing that with Jessica over there.'' Scissor yelled. The teacher cringed. However, everyone began laughing again. However, someone did share his sentiment. `` Damn it, Scissor! Why do you always have to inappropriate? Ca n't you just stop for once?'' Paper complained. `` Shut up, Paper. Do n't act all saintly just because you're white.'' Rock spat. `` Oh is this a race issue now?'' Paper questioned. The teacher, sensing something sinister brewing, rushed over to the bickering trio. `` Rock! Paper! Scissor! Do n't fight! Do what I do. Stop and take a breath.'' The teacher proceeded to take a huge breath as if to demonstrate, hoping that would distract the trio from fighting. It worked. The trio took breaths and stopped fighting. The teacher, pleased, deemed it to be a success. He continued with attendance and proceeded to lecture for the next hour on anger management strategies. .................................................................................................. After class ended, the trio walked over to Mario's Pizza Place. `` Man, that class was boring!'' Rock complained. `` Agreed,'' Scissor said as they entered the restaurant and proceeded to seat themselves. The trio opened up their menus. `` So guys, what do you wan na eat?'' Paper asked. `` Cheese.'' Rock said. `` Veggie.'' Scissor said. `` Hmm, but I want pepperoni,'' replied Paper. `` And we only have enough money for one box of pizza,'' said Rock. `` So how do we decide?'' Scissor asked. Silence descended upon the restaurant. `` Shit.'' someone murmured. The tension was palpable. The trio looked at each other nervously. `` Breathe in, breathe out.'' Paper repeated. `` Well, it's okay guys. We do n't have to get veggie pizza.'' Scissors laughed nervously. `` No, do n't sacrifice your choice! I'll take my choice of cheese out!'' Rock insisted. `` No, I'l take pepperoni out, guys!'' Paper said. You could hear a pin drop in the restaurant. `` No. I WILL TAKE MY CHOICE OUT.'' Rock said furiously. `` Okay, screw you, Rock! I said I'll take my choice out and you had to start something again!'' Scissor screamed. `` You wan na go, Scissor!?'' Rock shrieked. `` I'll beat you into the ground like every other time!'' Paper's white skin turned red in anger. `` Rock, I swear to God if you do n't cut it out, I will destroy you!'' `` Stay out of my business, Paper! I'll cut you!'' Scissor screamed, and he snipped off a corner of Paper's sheet head. A collective gasp fell over the restaurant. Astonished, Paper looked at Scissor. His mouth began to move. `` Okay, let's decide on our choice of pizza.'' Paper sneered. `` Through what?'' Rock and Scissor smirked. 'Rock, Paper, Scissor, bitches.''

<s>[INST] Rock , Paper and Scissor goes to an anger management course together , in order to stop the fighting between themselves . [/INST] `` Now class. One must realize that the first step to recovery is through recognizing you have a problem. And that is why you are all here today.'' The teacher spoke. `` No, it's because of that damn court order,'' Rock murmured. The classroom roared with laughter. The teacher, oblivious to the fact that he was being mocked, smiled. `` Well, it's good that you can all laugh and joke around, especially on your first day here!'' `` And hopefully the last.'' Scissor snickered. Again, the class found that quite amusing. The teacher reluctantly smiled. `` Okay class. I'm going to call attendance. Rick?'' `` Here.'' `` Jessica?'' `` Here.'' `` Scissor?'' `` I do n't mind doing that with Jessica over there.'' Scissor yelled. The teacher cringed. However, everyone began laughing again. However, someone did share his sentiment. `` Damn it, Scissor! Why do you always have to inappropriate? Ca n't you just stop for once?'' Paper complained. `` Shut up, Paper. Do n't act all saintly just because you're white.'' Rock spat. `` Oh is this a race issue now?'' Paper questioned. The teacher, sensing something sinister brewing, rushed over to the bickering trio. `` Rock! Paper! Scissor! Do n't fight! Do what I do. Stop and take a breath.'' The teacher proceeded to take a huge breath as if to demonstrate, hoping that would distract the trio from fighting. It worked. The trio took breaths and stopped fighting. The teacher, pleased, deemed it to be a success. He continued with attendance and proceeded to lecture for the next hour on anger management strategies. .................................................................................................. After class ended, the trio walked over to Mario's Pizza Place. `` Man, that class was boring!'' Rock complained. `` Agreed,'' Scissor said as they entered the restaurant and proceeded to seat themselves. The trio opened up their menus. `` So guys, what do you wan na eat?'' Paper asked. `` Cheese.'' Rock said. `` Veggie.'' Scissor said. `` Hmm, but I want pepperoni,'' replied Paper. `` And we only have enough money for one box of pizza,'' said Rock. `` So how do we decide?'' Scissor asked. Silence descended upon the restaurant. `` Shit.'' someone murmured. The tension was palpable. The trio looked at each other nervously. `` Breathe in, breathe out.'' Paper repeated. `` Well, it's okay guys. We do n't have to get veggie pizza.'' Scissors laughed nervously. `` No, do n't sacrifice your choice! I'll take my choice of cheese out!'' Rock insisted. `` No, I'l take pepperoni out, guys!'' Paper said. You could hear a pin drop in the restaurant. `` No. I WILL TAKE MY CHOICE OUT.'' Rock said furiously. `` Okay, screw you, Rock! I said I'll take my choice out and you had to start something again!'' Scissor screamed. `` You wan na go, Scissor!?'' Rock shrieked. `` I'll beat you into the ground like every other time!'' Paper's white skin turned red in anger. `` Rock, I swear to God if you do n't cut it out, I will destroy you!'' `` Stay out of my business, Paper! I'll cut you!'' Scissor screamed, and he snipped off a corner of Paper's sheet head. A collective gasp fell over the restaurant. Astonished, Paper looked at Scissor. His mouth began to move. `` Okay, let's decide on our choice of pizza.'' Paper sneered. `` Through what?'' Rock and Scissor smirked. 'Rock, Paper, Scissor, bitches.'' </s>

[ WP ] The devil holidays on Earth regularly , borrowing a human body . However , he is killed while mortal in a freak accident , and his body is an organ donor . Somebody gets the devil 's eyes .

It was dark for a while. Longer than a while, I suppose, but I guess when you lose sight so young, time does n't really seem as much of a factor. I could remember bits and pieces of the way the world once was; flashes of color would occasionally flood my memory, though for the most part the dark was really all that I knew. Until today. Today was the day that the bandages were coming off. They told me, once I was old enough to understand, that I had been a candidate for this surgery soon after I was healed from the accident. Years went by, and they had never found a match. After I turned eighteen, I had all but accepted that they would never find one. As luck or fate would have it, it was on my birthday that I received the phone call that I knew would change my life. Four simple words. `` We found a match.'' Needless to say, I was stunned. Here I was on my twenty-second birthday, about to receive the most incredible gift; a way to see the world once again. If only I had known just what that meant. With my family gathered around, I mentally prepared myself for the worst possible scenario. I'm not sure I ever really believed I would see again, but I was still trying to hope for the best. Slowly but surely, the doctor started taking the bandages off. They told me to keep my eyes closed until all was removed. Not to worry, I was n't about to chance any horrible complications after getting this far. Opening my eyes was more of a struggle than I expected. I felt like I was prying my eyelids open after all of that time under the bandages. `` How does the world look?'' They asked, with hopeful smiles on their faces. If only I had a good answer. After the initial haze cleared, I sat in stunned silence. The world was no longer the beautiful place of vibrant color that I could barely recall. This world was much worse. For once the haze cleared, I could see the darkness. It was not merely a darkness from the lack of light, but pure darkness that seeped in from every horrific thought, every avenue of hatred, the blackest corners of the night. This was the nightmarish hell that struck fear into the hearts of the most pure souls. This was The Darkness. I would take my darkness back in a heartbeat.

<s>[INST] The devil holidays on Earth regularly , borrowing a human body . However , he is killed while mortal in a freak accident , and his body is an organ donor . Somebody gets the devil 's eyes . [/INST] It was dark for a while. Longer than a while, I suppose, but I guess when you lose sight so young, time does n't really seem as much of a factor. I could remember bits and pieces of the way the world once was; flashes of color would occasionally flood my memory, though for the most part the dark was really all that I knew. Until today. Today was the day that the bandages were coming off. They told me, once I was old enough to understand, that I had been a candidate for this surgery soon after I was healed from the accident. Years went by, and they had never found a match. After I turned eighteen, I had all but accepted that they would never find one. As luck or fate would have it, it was on my birthday that I received the phone call that I knew would change my life. Four simple words. `` We found a match.'' Needless to say, I was stunned. Here I was on my twenty-second birthday, about to receive the most incredible gift; a way to see the world once again. If only I had known just what that meant. With my family gathered around, I mentally prepared myself for the worst possible scenario. I'm not sure I ever really believed I would see again, but I was still trying to hope for the best. Slowly but surely, the doctor started taking the bandages off. They told me to keep my eyes closed until all was removed. Not to worry, I was n't about to chance any horrible complications after getting this far. Opening my eyes was more of a struggle than I expected. I felt like I was prying my eyelids open after all of that time under the bandages. `` How does the world look?'' They asked, with hopeful smiles on their faces. If only I had a good answer. After the initial haze cleared, I sat in stunned silence. The world was no longer the beautiful place of vibrant color that I could barely recall. This world was much worse. For once the haze cleared, I could see the darkness. It was not merely a darkness from the lack of light, but pure darkness that seeped in from every horrific thought, every avenue of hatred, the blackest corners of the night. This was the nightmarish hell that struck fear into the hearts of the most pure souls. This was The Darkness. I would take my darkness back in a heartbeat. </s>

[ WP ] Due to a mix-up , the body count of all your video game kills is attributed to you personally . Upon your death , the Devil excitedly rushes to the gates of hell to greet you .

`` Ow, my head... what the...'' I got up and looked around, it was a beautifully destructive place. There was no sign of anyone, or anything. Just cracks in a red desert that seemed to go on forever. `` Welcome!'' I heard a soothing voice reached over me. As I quickly turned around and saw one of the most brilliantly beautiful ladies I had ever seen in my life. Dressed in a lovely strapless dress. `` This way handsome.'' She called me with her fingers and turned her hips to start walking down a stairway I must have somehow missed on the first pass. The stairs went on forever, but the view was worth the follow. I got hotter as we got closer to what seemed to be heading to the center of the earth. `` So you're him, Huh? What a lovely addition...'' her words seemed to flow behind her and ease it way into my ears. `` I'm who? And where are we going? Honestly, I need to head home, but you are more than welcome to fol-'' I tried to turn around but the path back seemed to just fall apart behind us. `` Oh, do n't worry about that Jordan.'' There was an ominous pause, `` I do n't think you will ever be going back, actually I'm quite sure of it.'' She lead the way onto a path that finally leveled out and lead into a large metal room. `` You see, you are dead now. And with your abilities I will find great entertainment from you.'' `` Abilities, entertainment, DEAD?! Okay, I need to wake up. I got scrims in the morning and -'' `` And like everyone else you will soon realize you are in hell, you have killed MANY MANY people, with your own hand no less. Impressive. Very, VERY impressive, it gets me all....'' she slowly started to hug on me a bit, but something was wrong. I mean this is a metal room, and we went pretty far down but she was....like her body temperature was, scorching. `` HOT''. I shoved her burning body off of me. She seemed to catch me on fire. I backed away from her as she stepped closer. I tried to find the door but it seems as if it just disappeared. `` Look um, I do n't know who you are or what you want, but I have n't killed anyone. There has been some sort of mistake.'' `` Oh, right, because people are sent to hell because of a life without sin. You are quite easily one of the best murder's we've seen down here in quite a few centuries. And you know what gets me REALLY HOT....'' the room heated up again, this time so much it felt like my eyes were going to burn out of my sockets. `` Death.'' `` Look miss, you think I'm some sort of murder, yet I seriously do n't think you know what I do... I mean you ca n't jus-'' `` SILENCE! As the God of the Underworld, you will please me. And thank whomever finally slayed you, for they sent a formidable opponent to me this time. You will fight the current reigning Champion of my arena for my pleasure, and if you win... you get to continue. But if you lose, you are sent to the pits of hell below, when the pain will be unimaginable for the rest of eternity.'' `` But, that's not even... I'm not who you... I PLAYED GAMES FOR A LIVING!!'' I pleaded. `` With your record, merely one person should not be enough. Let's start with 5 and see where that goes.'' And with that she disappeared in a burst of flames. The walls fell and in the sand around arose stone bricks. I began to recogonize this area, it looked like... no, it could n't be. Seconds later a weapon fell into my hands. A very familiar weapon, something straight out of CoD. But, I now understood what was going on. And almost instantaneously I felt the pain of a bullet going threw my shoulder. I turned and fired on the run. I knew this map better than anyone. A simple map. A small map. I just hope the nuke at the end was a joke.

<s>[INST] Due to a mix-up , the body count of all your video game kills is attributed to you personally . Upon your death , the Devil excitedly rushes to the gates of hell to greet you . [/INST] `` Ow, my head... what the...'' I got up and looked around, it was a beautifully destructive place. There was no sign of anyone, or anything. Just cracks in a red desert that seemed to go on forever. `` Welcome!'' I heard a soothing voice reached over me. As I quickly turned around and saw one of the most brilliantly beautiful ladies I had ever seen in my life. Dressed in a lovely strapless dress. `` This way handsome.'' She called me with her fingers and turned her hips to start walking down a stairway I must have somehow missed on the first pass. The stairs went on forever, but the view was worth the follow. I got hotter as we got closer to what seemed to be heading to the center of the earth. `` So you're him, Huh? What a lovely addition...'' her words seemed to flow behind her and ease it way into my ears. `` I'm who? And where are we going? Honestly, I need to head home, but you are more than welcome to fol-'' I tried to turn around but the path back seemed to just fall apart behind us. `` Oh, do n't worry about that Jordan.'' There was an ominous pause, `` I do n't think you will ever be going back, actually I'm quite sure of it.'' She lead the way onto a path that finally leveled out and lead into a large metal room. `` You see, you are dead now. And with your abilities I will find great entertainment from you.'' `` Abilities, entertainment, DEAD?! Okay, I need to wake up. I got scrims in the morning and -'' `` And like everyone else you will soon realize you are in hell, you have killed MANY MANY people, with your own hand no less. Impressive. Very, VERY impressive, it gets me all....'' she slowly started to hug on me a bit, but something was wrong. I mean this is a metal room, and we went pretty far down but she was....like her body temperature was, scorching. `` HOT''. I shoved her burning body off of me. She seemed to catch me on fire. I backed away from her as she stepped closer. I tried to find the door but it seems as if it just disappeared. `` Look um, I do n't know who you are or what you want, but I have n't killed anyone. There has been some sort of mistake.'' `` Oh, right, because people are sent to hell because of a life without sin. You are quite easily one of the best murder's we've seen down here in quite a few centuries. And you know what gets me REALLY HOT....'' the room heated up again, this time so much it felt like my eyes were going to burn out of my sockets. `` Death.'' `` Look miss, you think I'm some sort of murder, yet I seriously do n't think you know what I do... I mean you ca n't jus-'' `` SILENCE! As the God of the Underworld, you will please me. And thank whomever finally slayed you, for they sent a formidable opponent to me this time. You will fight the current reigning Champion of my arena for my pleasure, and if you win... you get to continue. But if you lose, you are sent to the pits of hell below, when the pain will be unimaginable for the rest of eternity.'' `` But, that's not even... I'm not who you... I PLAYED GAMES FOR A LIVING!!'' I pleaded. `` With your record, merely one person should not be enough. Let's start with 5 and see where that goes.'' And with that she disappeared in a burst of flames. The walls fell and in the sand around arose stone bricks. I began to recogonize this area, it looked like... no, it could n't be. Seconds later a weapon fell into my hands. A very familiar weapon, something straight out of CoD. But, I now understood what was going on. And almost instantaneously I felt the pain of a bullet going threw my shoulder. I turned and fired on the run. I knew this map better than anyone. A simple map. A small map. I just hope the nuke at the end was a joke. </s>

[ WP ] A ghost has yet to realize it 's dead but keeps trying to commit suicide and wonders why nothing he tries works .

Alright Sarah, I'm coming after you. Just wait for me a little longer... I jumped. I was n't scared though. To be fair, I was only 6 feet off the ground, and the rope wrapped around my neck kept me from falling and hurting myself. In fact, I did n't feel anything. Was n't strangulation supposed to be just a little bit painful? After hanging there for a solid 12 minutes, I gave up, freed myself and gently floated down from the tree branch onto the forest floor. I start floating today of all days. This was why jumping off a building was a no-go. No pills either. For some reason they go right through me, not like cheap beer or bad Mexican. It just phases through. And I could n't buy anything from the hardware store either. The cashier just ignored me and other people just walked right through me. Talk about rude. `` Wow, denial is strong with this one'' I turned to see a small girl wearing a winged helmet. `` Are you lost, little girl?'' I asked. `` Repeat yourself much?'' she scoffed. `` I'm Val, the guide for the dead and a hundred times older than you.'' `` What, who died?'' I was puzzled. `` You did.'' `` What? Sarah, where is she? We promised...'' `` You still do n't remember'' The little girl then waved her hand in front of my eyes. `` Let me help, again'' *Look, I'm leaving you, Jamie. You need help. Until then, do n't even think about contacting me. What are you doing with that? Put the damn gun down. You think you scare me? Put the -- You actually shot me, bravo. I ca n't believe I still love you, you ass. Now you have nobody and that makes me want to cry... * *Do n't worry, Sarah, I'll follow you soon. This will be a lovers suicide. Like Romeo and Juliet. How Romantic. * I grabbed a rock and bashed in the little girl's head. `` NO'' I screamed. `` THAT DIDN'' T HAPPEN, YOU'RE A LIAR.'' But she did n't bleed, and I felt drowsy when she waved her hand again, whispering *forget* I awoke feeling refreshed and full of energy. How am I gon na off myself? I could jump in front of a car. Alright Sara, I'm coming for you... `` Wow, Do n't you get tired of doing this after 12 years?'' I turned to see a little girl with a winged Helmet. `` Are you lost, little girl?'' I asked. `` Maybe you'll be more accepting tomorrow'' She turned to walk away, while I struggled to figure out why she looked so familiar.

<s>[INST] A ghost has yet to realize it 's dead but keeps trying to commit suicide and wonders why nothing he tries works . [/INST] Alright Sarah, I'm coming after you. Just wait for me a little longer... I jumped. I was n't scared though. To be fair, I was only 6 feet off the ground, and the rope wrapped around my neck kept me from falling and hurting myself. In fact, I did n't feel anything. Was n't strangulation supposed to be just a little bit painful? After hanging there for a solid 12 minutes, I gave up, freed myself and gently floated down from the tree branch onto the forest floor. I start floating today of all days. This was why jumping off a building was a no-go. No pills either. For some reason they go right through me, not like cheap beer or bad Mexican. It just phases through. And I could n't buy anything from the hardware store either. The cashier just ignored me and other people just walked right through me. Talk about rude. `` Wow, denial is strong with this one'' I turned to see a small girl wearing a winged helmet. `` Are you lost, little girl?'' I asked. `` Repeat yourself much?'' she scoffed. `` I'm Val, the guide for the dead and a hundred times older than you.'' `` What, who died?'' I was puzzled. `` You did.'' `` What? Sarah, where is she? We promised...'' `` You still do n't remember'' The little girl then waved her hand in front of my eyes. `` Let me help, again'' *Look, I'm leaving you, Jamie. You need help. Until then, do n't even think about contacting me. What are you doing with that? Put the damn gun down. You think you scare me? Put the -- You actually shot me, bravo. I ca n't believe I still love you, you ass. Now you have nobody and that makes me want to cry... * *Do n't worry, Sarah, I'll follow you soon. This will be a lovers suicide. Like Romeo and Juliet. How Romantic. * I grabbed a rock and bashed in the little girl's head. `` NO'' I screamed. `` THAT DIDN'' T HAPPEN, YOU'RE A LIAR.'' But she did n't bleed, and I felt drowsy when she waved her hand again, whispering *forget* I awoke feeling refreshed and full of energy. How am I gon na off myself? I could jump in front of a car. Alright Sara, I'm coming for you... `` Wow, Do n't you get tired of doing this after 12 years?'' I turned to see a little girl with a winged Helmet. `` Are you lost, little girl?'' I asked. `` Maybe you'll be more accepting tomorrow'' She turned to walk away, while I struggled to figure out why she looked so familiar. </s>

[ wp ] You are at a table with every girl you 've almost slept with , they 're having a frank discussion about why it never happened .

When I decided to have a beer in my favorite pub, I'd never imagined I would end up with these three girls sitting with me. Liz, Debbie and Paula all had a different look in their eyes. Liz had a touch of amusement in her eyes, Debbie was more disgusted and Paula looked like she wanted to kill me. The three girls had all one thing in common: at one point, we almost had sex but it never happened for a reason. When I entered the pub, Liz and Debbie, who were drinking a beer, waved at me to come with them. And a bit later, Paula entered the pub, saw us and went to taunt me with: `` Hi Rick, are you sure you want to disappoint those girls? They look too nice for you.'' Liz and Debbie looked surprised but quickly Debbie said `` It's a bit late anyway, I already was disappointed'' `` Oooh? What do you mean?'' Asked Liz and Paula `` We were having a nice time but Rick never went to the end, nor started actually'' `` That's funny, because I also almost had sex with him before he turned out a jerk and I stopped'' said Paula `` No way! I almost had sex with him too but there was no disappointment for me'' told Liz. Thus began the most awkward discussion I was involved in, with my sexual encounters as the topic... `` I knew Rick for a long time before we had this. I was still a virgin at the time, but at one point, I decided to lose it and tried it with a douche called Anthony, it went wrong and was frustrated. Less than 2 months after, I ended up at Rick's home and during the foreplay, Mister Rick judiciously said `` I'm sure you're wetter than with Anthony'', which made me lose everything'' said Paula, making Liz and Debbie laugh. `` Ahahah, indeed Rick, you were a douche! I remember the time we almost had sex. We were in a frat house bedroom getting it on, and he called me another name. When I told me that my name was Debbie he said `` Debbie? Fuck I'm so drunk, I ca n't even aim the girl I deserve and aim lower...'' I slapped him and got out of the room'' `` Hahahaha! That's hilarious! But you know, girls, I was n't disappointed like the both of you. For me, it was more of an accident that stopped our sex session'' Said Liz `` An accident? What happened?'' `` Well, Mister Rick drank a little too much and when he got in bed, missed the bed and fell. He struck his balls on the corner of the bed and bumped his head against the nightstand, sending him to the hospital. That was hilarious, you know!'' The most embarassing moment of my life was about to finish when Liz said with a wink `` You know, I think, you should stop drinking that much, it's bad for your sex life. Think of your girlfriend''

<s>[INST] [ wp ] You are at a table with every girl you 've almost slept with , they 're having a frank discussion about why it never happened . [/INST] When I decided to have a beer in my favorite pub, I'd never imagined I would end up with these three girls sitting with me. Liz, Debbie and Paula all had a different look in their eyes. Liz had a touch of amusement in her eyes, Debbie was more disgusted and Paula looked like she wanted to kill me. The three girls had all one thing in common: at one point, we almost had sex but it never happened for a reason. When I entered the pub, Liz and Debbie, who were drinking a beer, waved at me to come with them. And a bit later, Paula entered the pub, saw us and went to taunt me with: `` Hi Rick, are you sure you want to disappoint those girls? They look too nice for you.'' Liz and Debbie looked surprised but quickly Debbie said `` It's a bit late anyway, I already was disappointed'' `` Oooh? What do you mean?'' Asked Liz and Paula `` We were having a nice time but Rick never went to the end, nor started actually'' `` That's funny, because I also almost had sex with him before he turned out a jerk and I stopped'' said Paula `` No way! I almost had sex with him too but there was no disappointment for me'' told Liz. Thus began the most awkward discussion I was involved in, with my sexual encounters as the topic... `` I knew Rick for a long time before we had this. I was still a virgin at the time, but at one point, I decided to lose it and tried it with a douche called Anthony, it went wrong and was frustrated. Less than 2 months after, I ended up at Rick's home and during the foreplay, Mister Rick judiciously said `` I'm sure you're wetter than with Anthony'', which made me lose everything'' said Paula, making Liz and Debbie laugh. `` Ahahah, indeed Rick, you were a douche! I remember the time we almost had sex. We were in a frat house bedroom getting it on, and he called me another name. When I told me that my name was Debbie he said `` Debbie? Fuck I'm so drunk, I ca n't even aim the girl I deserve and aim lower...'' I slapped him and got out of the room'' `` Hahahaha! That's hilarious! But you know, girls, I was n't disappointed like the both of you. For me, it was more of an accident that stopped our sex session'' Said Liz `` An accident? What happened?'' `` Well, Mister Rick drank a little too much and when he got in bed, missed the bed and fell. He struck his balls on the corner of the bed and bumped his head against the nightstand, sending him to the hospital. That was hilarious, you know!'' The most embarassing moment of my life was about to finish when Liz said with a wink `` You know, I think, you should stop drinking that much, it's bad for your sex life. Think of your girlfriend'' </s>

[ WP ] You receive the power to read minds , but you do n't like what you find .

It had been a very weird day. You had found yourself getting up early because some prat decided to get himself killed in from of your apartment complex. The sirens had started at about six in the morning and hadn ’ t stopped by midday. Luckily you didn ’ t have to come in today, otherwise you couldn ’ t have stayed in bed. After browsing Reddit for a few hours on your phone you had somehow ended up on one of those crappy ’ 10 things you need to know about losing weight ’ websites. You ’ re too bored to give a toss so you decide to read the article anyway. You try to stab yourself to death with it, but it ’ s too dull. Quickly you forward to the next article, but surprisingly it ’ s equally disappointing. With a sigh of disbelief you decide that it ’ s time to make something of your day. As you get up and walk towards the kitchen you cast a look out of the window. Yep, they were still cleaning up the pavement. With a complete lack of appetite you start your breakfast annex lunch. While the food is sliding down your oesophagus you continue browsing the crappy website. You read a couple of more “ articles ”. One of them offers a mindreading tool. Without giving it a proper thought you download it. It gives an error: “ this format is not supported by your device, please try again later. ” By the time you ’ re finished eating you ’ re so fed up with all the drama going on outside that you tell yourself to get out of the house. Somewhere you feel sorry for the bloke outside, but it doesn ’ t quite compensate for the lack of sleep. Your clothes itch more than usual when you slip them on. It annoys you. You feel like Oscar the Grouch when you step out of the door. Hopefully your friends place isn ’ t a suicide hotspot as well. Luckily your friend lives in one of the better parts of town, but that also means that the trip there takes quite a bit of time. You want to check the time on your watch, but are only greeted by the sight of your skin. Hopefully your watch is having a better time than you wherever it ’ s hanging out. As you arrive at your buddy ’ s place you notice that there ’ s a great deal of cars parked nearby and something that looks like a fallen-over patio heater is resting next to the bicycle rack. O wait, someone tipped over the bikes. You ’ re forced to forcibly remove some of the bikes to make your way to the door. Before you knock on the door it is opened by some pissed bloke. He embraces you with more brotherly love than you ’ ve ever experienced and doesn ’ t seem to be letting go anytime soon. Quite awkwardly you stand there and after a couple of seconds decide to hug the bloke back. As it turns out, it ’ s some day of national celebration you had forgotten about all together, but it doesn ’ t really matter. Your friend invites you in and asks you where you ’ ve been. You make an excuse of some sort as you realise that your friends invitation was still lying unopened on your desk, along with all other mail from last month. The party is quite nice actually. Most of your other friends are there too and you have quite a good time. You do what friends do at parties: get hammered, take pictures, get some shots, play some daft games, do more shots. Some of your friends fall amidst the battle, but you handle drinks quite well for your size. You also don ’ t feel like being dragged home. The party lasts until the following morning, but you leave somewhat early as you don ’ t feel like cleaning up after yourself. The city isn ’ t as quiet as it normally is, for there are plenty more people going around pis drunk. After a while you get bored of watching the completely arseholed tossers bump into each other and take out your phone. Your whatsapp is loading quite a lot messages and images from the party. You decide to look through them to make sure you don ’ t look more unflattering than usual. This is unfortunately the case and you pray that they don ’ t end up on facebook. Also your whatsapp must have updated again, because there ’ s a feature you haven ’ t seen before. There ’ s a tiny button near each of the face in the picture. Upon closer inspection, you make out the word ‘ read. ’ You press it, out of mere curiosity. Nothing. You check the other photos and find more buttons. You set yourself the challenge of hitting every single one of them, but get bored after a while. You go back to watching pissed up people bump into another. You were messaging your friend that the party was top when you got to your apartment door. You fumble with the keys as you finish your text. The phone slides into your pocket when you finally manage to open the door. After an appropriately dramatic pause your keys hit the ground. Your apartment is absolutely stuffed with books in black binding. At some point in the not so distant past the appeared to have been neatly organised, but whatever system had been in place, it had all had come crashing down. The only evidence left of this organisation came in the form of the somewhat straightened piles lying everywhere. It ’ s unclear where exactly they had originated from, but it must ’ ve been somewhere near your printer because the pile was largest there. You ’ re too surprised to act upon any of this, but you manage to notice that one of the books nearby has a red note on it. With the utmost care you pick it up. The book is fairly heavy, and in large black letters it reads “ Neville Orson Bedfordshire ”. As far as you can recall, you don ’ t know this poor soul. The note was more interesting. Some idiot had written with red marker on the red note. You squint, but you can ’ t quite make out the words. Something about a manufacturing issue. Then it occurs to you that you might turn on the light. You try to navigate your way back to the door, but you trip and fall on your back. The books break your fall, but it still stings more than you would like it to. The book you were holding fell in strange way, causing it to open. In large black letters it reads “ Could I wrestle a bear? ” You work yourself upright and pull the book toward you. The next line reads “ Yeah, I bet I could wrestle a bear – oh, norks. ” Before you can continue a dim light appears in the corner of vision. It ’ s coming from your window, probably a lamppost. The interesting thing is the book, it illuminates. A red note is attached, this time with black inked used for the lettering: “ Thanks for signing up for Thought Facts! You now will receive interesting daily facts about people ’ s thoughts, OR alternatively use our on-demand service! ”

<s>[INST] You receive the power to read minds , but you do n't like what you find . [/INST] It had been a very weird day. You had found yourself getting up early because some prat decided to get himself killed in from of your apartment complex. The sirens had started at about six in the morning and hadn ’ t stopped by midday. Luckily you didn ’ t have to come in today, otherwise you couldn ’ t have stayed in bed. After browsing Reddit for a few hours on your phone you had somehow ended up on one of those crappy ’ 10 things you need to know about losing weight ’ websites. You ’ re too bored to give a toss so you decide to read the article anyway. You try to stab yourself to death with it, but it ’ s too dull. Quickly you forward to the next article, but surprisingly it ’ s equally disappointing. With a sigh of disbelief you decide that it ’ s time to make something of your day. As you get up and walk towards the kitchen you cast a look out of the window. Yep, they were still cleaning up the pavement. With a complete lack of appetite you start your breakfast annex lunch. While the food is sliding down your oesophagus you continue browsing the crappy website. You read a couple of more “ articles ”. One of them offers a mindreading tool. Without giving it a proper thought you download it. It gives an error: “ this format is not supported by your device, please try again later. ” By the time you ’ re finished eating you ’ re so fed up with all the drama going on outside that you tell yourself to get out of the house. Somewhere you feel sorry for the bloke outside, but it doesn ’ t quite compensate for the lack of sleep. Your clothes itch more than usual when you slip them on. It annoys you. You feel like Oscar the Grouch when you step out of the door. Hopefully your friends place isn ’ t a suicide hotspot as well. Luckily your friend lives in one of the better parts of town, but that also means that the trip there takes quite a bit of time. You want to check the time on your watch, but are only greeted by the sight of your skin. Hopefully your watch is having a better time than you wherever it ’ s hanging out. As you arrive at your buddy ’ s place you notice that there ’ s a great deal of cars parked nearby and something that looks like a fallen-over patio heater is resting next to the bicycle rack. O wait, someone tipped over the bikes. You ’ re forced to forcibly remove some of the bikes to make your way to the door. Before you knock on the door it is opened by some pissed bloke. He embraces you with more brotherly love than you ’ ve ever experienced and doesn ’ t seem to be letting go anytime soon. Quite awkwardly you stand there and after a couple of seconds decide to hug the bloke back. As it turns out, it ’ s some day of national celebration you had forgotten about all together, but it doesn ’ t really matter. Your friend invites you in and asks you where you ’ ve been. You make an excuse of some sort as you realise that your friends invitation was still lying unopened on your desk, along with all other mail from last month. The party is quite nice actually. Most of your other friends are there too and you have quite a good time. You do what friends do at parties: get hammered, take pictures, get some shots, play some daft games, do more shots. Some of your friends fall amidst the battle, but you handle drinks quite well for your size. You also don ’ t feel like being dragged home. The party lasts until the following morning, but you leave somewhat early as you don ’ t feel like cleaning up after yourself. The city isn ’ t as quiet as it normally is, for there are plenty more people going around pis drunk. After a while you get bored of watching the completely arseholed tossers bump into each other and take out your phone. Your whatsapp is loading quite a lot messages and images from the party. You decide to look through them to make sure you don ’ t look more unflattering than usual. This is unfortunately the case and you pray that they don ’ t end up on facebook. Also your whatsapp must have updated again, because there ’ s a feature you haven ’ t seen before. There ’ s a tiny button near each of the face in the picture. Upon closer inspection, you make out the word ‘ read. ’ You press it, out of mere curiosity. Nothing. You check the other photos and find more buttons. You set yourself the challenge of hitting every single one of them, but get bored after a while. You go back to watching pissed up people bump into another. You were messaging your friend that the party was top when you got to your apartment door. You fumble with the keys as you finish your text. The phone slides into your pocket when you finally manage to open the door. After an appropriately dramatic pause your keys hit the ground. Your apartment is absolutely stuffed with books in black binding. At some point in the not so distant past the appeared to have been neatly organised, but whatever system had been in place, it had all had come crashing down. The only evidence left of this organisation came in the form of the somewhat straightened piles lying everywhere. It ’ s unclear where exactly they had originated from, but it must ’ ve been somewhere near your printer because the pile was largest there. You ’ re too surprised to act upon any of this, but you manage to notice that one of the books nearby has a red note on it. With the utmost care you pick it up. The book is fairly heavy, and in large black letters it reads “ Neville Orson Bedfordshire ”. As far as you can recall, you don ’ t know this poor soul. The note was more interesting. Some idiot had written with red marker on the red note. You squint, but you can ’ t quite make out the words. Something about a manufacturing issue. Then it occurs to you that you might turn on the light. You try to navigate your way back to the door, but you trip and fall on your back. The books break your fall, but it still stings more than you would like it to. The book you were holding fell in strange way, causing it to open. In large black letters it reads “ Could I wrestle a bear? ” You work yourself upright and pull the book toward you. The next line reads “ Yeah, I bet I could wrestle a bear – oh, norks. ” Before you can continue a dim light appears in the corner of vision. It ’ s coming from your window, probably a lamppost. The interesting thing is the book, it illuminates. A red note is attached, this time with black inked used for the lettering: “ Thanks for signing up for Thought Facts! You now will receive interesting daily facts about people ’ s thoughts, OR alternatively use our on-demand service! ” </s>

[ WP ] Instead of humans hiding from the zombies , zombies are hiding from the humans .

Voices could be heard, hollering from their trucks as the midnight search continued. Alas, but a few remained of the army of mortuary lab rats. With an expiration date on the already limited survival due to our rotting appendages, the last of the'undead' were forced to stick together. A light drew nearer to the barn where eight or so of us remained captive. The voice of silence was broken by a familiar sound, one we all recognized from our days overseas. We held what breath we could bear as the footsteps approached. None of us found solace in counting our blessings, but I found myself making promises with myself if I ever got out of this... *They were leaving. * The footsteps grew softer, as we once again appreciated the sweet summer air. Somehow, we had manag- *click* The soft rustling of the wind was broken by the sound of barking, as it finally dawned on us we had become the hunted.

<s>[INST] Instead of humans hiding from the zombies , zombies are hiding from the humans . [/INST] Voices could be heard, hollering from their trucks as the midnight search continued. Alas, but a few remained of the army of mortuary lab rats. With an expiration date on the already limited survival due to our rotting appendages, the last of the'undead' were forced to stick together. A light drew nearer to the barn where eight or so of us remained captive. The voice of silence was broken by a familiar sound, one we all recognized from our days overseas. We held what breath we could bear as the footsteps approached. None of us found solace in counting our blessings, but I found myself making promises with myself if I ever got out of this... *They were leaving. * The footsteps grew softer, as we once again appreciated the sweet summer air. Somehow, we had manag- *click* The soft rustling of the wind was broken by the sound of barking, as it finally dawned on us we had become the hunted. </s>

[ WP ] He did n't simply want to kill them . He wanted to kill them PERFECTLY .

Dark blue fire shot out of my hand and consumed the body. The old mans eyes turned black as his body was consumed in blue and purple fire. The man rose up slowly and immediately doubled over in pain. Blood dripped from his lips and neck, wounds on his body made him look like a butchered pig. He looked up with misery and torment in his eyes. `` why'' he asked in a choking tone. `` it must be perfect'' i said dryly. I raised the sword and pierced his heart watching the silver slide out his back. Blood poured out onto my armor and dripped down to the floor. His arms reached out and grabbed the bottom of my chest piece pulling the sword deeper into him. The man thought this would be the last of his killings, but no, not even close. Every aspect had to be orchestrated perfectly for a true closing to this story. The blood had to hit the wall beautifully, the scream had to be ear piercing, the pain in his eyes had to be heart breaking, the ending had to be perfect.

<s>[INST] He did n't simply want to kill them . He wanted to kill them PERFECTLY . [/INST] Dark blue fire shot out of my hand and consumed the body. The old mans eyes turned black as his body was consumed in blue and purple fire. The man rose up slowly and immediately doubled over in pain. Blood dripped from his lips and neck, wounds on his body made him look like a butchered pig. He looked up with misery and torment in his eyes. `` why'' he asked in a choking tone. `` it must be perfect'' i said dryly. I raised the sword and pierced his heart watching the silver slide out his back. Blood poured out onto my armor and dripped down to the floor. His arms reached out and grabbed the bottom of my chest piece pulling the sword deeper into him. The man thought this would be the last of his killings, but no, not even close. Every aspect had to be orchestrated perfectly for a true closing to this story. The blood had to hit the wall beautifully, the scream had to be ear piercing, the pain in his eyes had to be heart breaking, the ending had to be perfect. </s>

[ WP ] `` Promise me something ... before I close my eyes for the last time , let me see the darkness once more ... take me to the black abyss ... leave me in the void ... ''

`` This is it.'' The familiar voice echoed into the dazzling light `` This is the end of our path.'' Everything was blurry, and I ca n't see anything. The room we just walked in vanished, and we were both floating somewhere that I did n't even know. But I was sure, we both smiled, like always. We both knew this would come, and we both felt the same way. `` There can be only one. For our own sake.'' His voice suddenly filled with sadness. `` Do n't worry, I understand.'' I tried to reach my hand toward his blurry image to rub his back, but I guess I did n't even have hands anymore. `` I wish I knew how to say goodbye.'' He sighed `` I never had to do that before.'' `` Everything has its first time.'' I said `` You'll have to say goodbye many times more.'' `` So... are you ready?'' He asked inconsistently `` You already had the answer in your head.'' I smiled `` I'm ready.'' Without a single warning, it began. I can feel every last bit of my body slowly vanishing away, into the glowing light. It did n't hurt, but rather comfortable. He would never hurt me, because it would hurt him more than what he did to me. ``'' Promise me something...'' I muttered with all that left of me. `` Anything, my other half.'' I could felt he coming close to me, gently putting his hand on my cheek. I wish I could see him well for one last time. Just one time. `` before I close my eyes for the last time, let me see the darkness once more... take me to the black abyss... leave me in the void... Where I belong to.'' `` I will.'' He murmured. The light suddenly turned off - his warmth faded away. I closed my eyes, whispered my last words to the void. `` Goodbye.'' ****** Silence covered the room for a moment - that moment felt like an entity for both of the people inside. `` I guess you did it, Peter.'' The man in white clothes said. `` Yes, doc. I did it.'' Peter said with his eyes closed. He lied on the sofa while the doctor was writing something on his desk. `` How do you feel now?'' The doctor turned back to see him. `` I feel... strange.'' `` You will get on with it soon.'' The doctor smiled. `` For now, you can leave. I'll contact you later if you need.'' As the man bewildered, slowly standing up and leaving the room, the doctor took a deep breath of relief, wrote in his notebook: `` Patient: Peter Jan Diagnose: Multi personalities Status: In good condition, probably cured.''

<s>[INST] `` Promise me something ... before I close my eyes for the last time , let me see the darkness once more ... take me to the black abyss ... leave me in the void ... '' [/INST] `` This is it.'' The familiar voice echoed into the dazzling light `` This is the end of our path.'' Everything was blurry, and I ca n't see anything. The room we just walked in vanished, and we were both floating somewhere that I did n't even know. But I was sure, we both smiled, like always. We both knew this would come, and we both felt the same way. `` There can be only one. For our own sake.'' His voice suddenly filled with sadness. `` Do n't worry, I understand.'' I tried to reach my hand toward his blurry image to rub his back, but I guess I did n't even have hands anymore. `` I wish I knew how to say goodbye.'' He sighed `` I never had to do that before.'' `` Everything has its first time.'' I said `` You'll have to say goodbye many times more.'' `` So... are you ready?'' He asked inconsistently `` You already had the answer in your head.'' I smiled `` I'm ready.'' Without a single warning, it began. I can feel every last bit of my body slowly vanishing away, into the glowing light. It did n't hurt, but rather comfortable. He would never hurt me, because it would hurt him more than what he did to me. ``'' Promise me something...'' I muttered with all that left of me. `` Anything, my other half.'' I could felt he coming close to me, gently putting his hand on my cheek. I wish I could see him well for one last time. Just one time. `` before I close my eyes for the last time, let me see the darkness once more... take me to the black abyss... leave me in the void... Where I belong to.'' `` I will.'' He murmured. The light suddenly turned off - his warmth faded away. I closed my eyes, whispered my last words to the void. `` Goodbye.'' ****** Silence covered the room for a moment - that moment felt like an entity for both of the people inside. `` I guess you did it, Peter.'' The man in white clothes said. `` Yes, doc. I did it.'' Peter said with his eyes closed. He lied on the sofa while the doctor was writing something on his desk. `` How do you feel now?'' The doctor turned back to see him. `` I feel... strange.'' `` You will get on with it soon.'' The doctor smiled. `` For now, you can leave. I'll contact you later if you need.'' As the man bewildered, slowly standing up and leaving the room, the doctor took a deep breath of relief, wrote in his notebook: `` Patient: Peter Jan Diagnose: Multi personalities Status: In good condition, probably cured.'' </s>

[ EU ] After the royal wedding and celebrations , you settle in to normal life as queen . But having just woken up from a 100 year enchanted sleep , you 're now an insomiac . Charming 's snoring at night is not helping with the problem .

I ca n't sleep. I've tried. After the first two weeks of sleepless nights, I finally resorted to taking up hobbies. Basket weaving. Pie baking. Snail shell gold flaking, which was a hobby when I woke up, I found out. Nothing helped. I was like the walking dead for the longest time; I may have been a sleeping beauty, but I was now a waking terror. The servants would go to Charming for their requests, because I would send them off to do more work. I was awake, after all.. why should n't they be? Speaking of Charming, he was n't of much help. Sure, he kept the servants at ease, but ruled out all attempts of sleeping next to him with his snoring. But, that was back when I was optimistic about getting sleep. Now, that's just a memory of a daydream. I finally have found my one true calling. Weaving thread. It's an obsession, now. It's all I can do. I use the money I make from my'royal threads' threads line to buy every single spindle I can get my hands on. And I do put my hands on them. I prick every single finger on every single spindle in hopes that I can be put to sleep for even just an hour. Before my century sleep, there were no spindles in the kingdom for fear of me. Now, there are no spindles in the kingdom because I own them all. I feel that it must be my destiny to find a black spindle that will ease my insomnia. But, my destiny has not yet come, so I wait. And wait.

<s>[INST] [ EU ] After the royal wedding and celebrations , you settle in to normal life as queen . But having just woken up from a 100 year enchanted sleep , you 're now an insomiac . Charming 's snoring at night is not helping with the problem . [/INST] I ca n't sleep. I've tried. After the first two weeks of sleepless nights, I finally resorted to taking up hobbies. Basket weaving. Pie baking. Snail shell gold flaking, which was a hobby when I woke up, I found out. Nothing helped. I was like the walking dead for the longest time; I may have been a sleeping beauty, but I was now a waking terror. The servants would go to Charming for their requests, because I would send them off to do more work. I was awake, after all.. why should n't they be? Speaking of Charming, he was n't of much help. Sure, he kept the servants at ease, but ruled out all attempts of sleeping next to him with his snoring. But, that was back when I was optimistic about getting sleep. Now, that's just a memory of a daydream. I finally have found my one true calling. Weaving thread. It's an obsession, now. It's all I can do. I use the money I make from my'royal threads' threads line to buy every single spindle I can get my hands on. And I do put my hands on them. I prick every single finger on every single spindle in hopes that I can be put to sleep for even just an hour. Before my century sleep, there were no spindles in the kingdom for fear of me. Now, there are no spindles in the kingdom because I own them all. I feel that it must be my destiny to find a black spindle that will ease my insomnia. But, my destiny has not yet come, so I wait. And wait. </s>

[ CS ] How The World Was Saved From The Forces Of Ultimate Darkness

I always had a vague notion that I was different - special even. I was to learn later on that what I considered normal, others thought was extraordinary. The wind has always followed my every whim. I would ask it to change direction, stop, or grow in intensity and it would. There was no one to teach me how to do this but myself. It was a tiring endeavor however. One simple request felt like I ran a long time except my legs would n't feel tired and my lungs would n't burn. As with all childish notions, I grew out of the belief that I controlled the wind. Still, one incident haunts me. I try not to think about it and most of the time I am successful. It is impossible to escape the past however. Years ago, I was in one of my elementary classes. The wind had been unusual, ominous really. It was like a warning. No one else noticed, so I thought nothing of it and attended class as usual. Midway into her lesson, my teacher was interrupted by [ sirens ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=GVz6lEe6s9g ). There was a fear in her eyes, but she tried not to let it show. I started getting scared. `` Okay class, these sirens mean we're going to have a, uh, tornado drill. Now let's move in an orderly fashion to the basement.'' The other students happily complied as we followed her to the school basement. I could n't shake the feeling of disaster, and it confused me that the other kids were n't afraid. We just sat there, a flurry of voices, waiting. There was a *noise* in the background that was getting steadily louder until it was right over us. By this time, everyone was quiet. Well, there were some children sobbing and some adults offering words of comfort. The rumbling got louder and there were sounds of things being pulled apart. There was a crashing sound next. The lights went out. Screams were barely audible at this point. The whole building was shaking. I closed my eyes, covered my ears, and willed it all to go away. The shaking got worse, the noise louder, but I refused to open my eyes. I started feeling water pour on me and in a few moments I was soaked. I just kept telling it to *go away*. I do n't know when I lost consciousness. The story goes on to say that when the rescuers got to the school, there was a path where very little rubble was. It was like someone had created a path - a path that led to me. Little unconscious me was curled in a ball. I was the only survivor and I came out of that ordeal unscathed. I moved to a new town with my family, saw a psychologist, and tried very hard to forget. Little did I know, someone would find me and introduce me to a fantastic and dangerous side of our world - a secret world of magic!

<s>[INST] [ CS ] How The World Was Saved From The Forces Of Ultimate Darkness [/INST] I always had a vague notion that I was different - special even. I was to learn later on that what I considered normal, others thought was extraordinary. The wind has always followed my every whim. I would ask it to change direction, stop, or grow in intensity and it would. There was no one to teach me how to do this but myself. It was a tiring endeavor however. One simple request felt like I ran a long time except my legs would n't feel tired and my lungs would n't burn. As with all childish notions, I grew out of the belief that I controlled the wind. Still, one incident haunts me. I try not to think about it and most of the time I am successful. It is impossible to escape the past however. Years ago, I was in one of my elementary classes. The wind had been unusual, ominous really. It was like a warning. No one else noticed, so I thought nothing of it and attended class as usual. Midway into her lesson, my teacher was interrupted by [ sirens ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=GVz6lEe6s9g ). There was a fear in her eyes, but she tried not to let it show. I started getting scared. `` Okay class, these sirens mean we're going to have a, uh, tornado drill. Now let's move in an orderly fashion to the basement.'' The other students happily complied as we followed her to the school basement. I could n't shake the feeling of disaster, and it confused me that the other kids were n't afraid. We just sat there, a flurry of voices, waiting. There was a *noise* in the background that was getting steadily louder until it was right over us. By this time, everyone was quiet. Well, there were some children sobbing and some adults offering words of comfort. The rumbling got louder and there were sounds of things being pulled apart. There was a crashing sound next. The lights went out. Screams were barely audible at this point. The whole building was shaking. I closed my eyes, covered my ears, and willed it all to go away. The shaking got worse, the noise louder, but I refused to open my eyes. I started feeling water pour on me and in a few moments I was soaked. I just kept telling it to *go away*. I do n't know when I lost consciousness. The story goes on to say that when the rescuers got to the school, there was a path where very little rubble was. It was like someone had created a path - a path that led to me. Little unconscious me was curled in a ball. I was the only survivor and I came out of that ordeal unscathed. I moved to a new town with my family, saw a psychologist, and tried very hard to forget. Little did I know, someone would find me and introduce me to a fantastic and dangerous side of our world - a secret world of magic! </s>

[ WP ] She 's depressed because the voices in her head are so negative . Turns out those are n't her thoughts , but those of the people around her .

Mama always said I ’ d be a good child, that I ’ d go on to do good things in my life. I suppose I just didn ’ t know that she meant something like this. I don ’ t think she did too. Took me forever and two suicide attempts to figure out what was going on. * ‘ You suck. ’ * I pull in a sharp breath, burying my face further into my scarf, trying to focus on the fleeing happy thoughts. Jojo called it some kinda ‘ negativity magnet ’ that I had going on. I go home at night from walking the city just to cry into his arms. At least his thoughts aren ’ t as negative as they used to be. Jojo ’ s my handler. He stays home and does research for the gov ’ ment about what I do. The happiness rates in the city are higher than they ’ ve ever been. He says I ’ m doing good work. Sometimes I have to fight to see it. He ’ s already caught me popping too many pills more than once. He was upset about that, blamed himself. And of course I knew all about it. * ‘ You can ’ t even take care of your child right, what kind of mother are you? ’ * It had been a thought like that which told me that they weren ’ t my thoughts. I don ’ t have any children. My eyes scan the crowd but without a child hanging around a woman, there was no way to tell which woman the thought had come from. It doesn ’ t matter though. Her thought is gone, snatched into the ‘ magnet ’ that is me. I basically suck up the negativity. Like a magnet. I pull the thoughts with a simple walk through the city and everyone ’ s happier. I suffer under the weight of all those thoughts though. Every single one hits me like someone spitting in my face. They hurt, I cry, and I get up and do it again. Cos it ’ s all for the better good, right? * ‘ You don ’ t deserve to live. ’ * I stop, looking for the person. Looking hard. I need to stay close. Just close for a little while. * ‘ Go jump you fucking son of a bitch. ’ * I shiver, biting at my tongue and trying hard not to let my eyes tear up. I ’ d never see them leave if I started crying. * ‘ Jump… jump… ’ * The thoughts fade away slowly, falling to a distant whisper before they ’ re gone. A man standing outside the McDonalds looks up at the sky and I see a familiar expression on his face. The words echo still in my mind however but I bury my face again and continue walking. Better good? No. I don ’ t want anyone else to suffer like me. I know what they ’ re going through because I go through the merits of killing myself on a daily basis. I also go through all the reasons why I shouldn ’ t. Some days it ’ s tough not to off myself. Some days, I don ’ t want to get out of bed and face the world. * ‘ You ’ re a monster. ’ * I continue walking, face buried in my scarf and ears stinging with the promise of tears. I know that what I ’ m doing is good though. I save lives. Not as many as I ’ d like but I save lives. Jojo ’ s looking to see if there ’ s more like me, so that maybe, just maybe, my burden can be lifted. So I don ’ t have to walk out here every day. Because he and I both know that eventually I ’ m going to break and he won ’ t be able to put me back together.

<s>[INST] She 's depressed because the voices in her head are so negative . Turns out those are n't her thoughts , but those of the people around her . [/INST] Mama always said I ’ d be a good child, that I ’ d go on to do good things in my life. I suppose I just didn ’ t know that she meant something like this. I don ’ t think she did too. Took me forever and two suicide attempts to figure out what was going on. * ‘ You suck. ’ * I pull in a sharp breath, burying my face further into my scarf, trying to focus on the fleeing happy thoughts. Jojo called it some kinda ‘ negativity magnet ’ that I had going on. I go home at night from walking the city just to cry into his arms. At least his thoughts aren ’ t as negative as they used to be. Jojo ’ s my handler. He stays home and does research for the gov ’ ment about what I do. The happiness rates in the city are higher than they ’ ve ever been. He says I ’ m doing good work. Sometimes I have to fight to see it. He ’ s already caught me popping too many pills more than once. He was upset about that, blamed himself. And of course I knew all about it. * ‘ You can ’ t even take care of your child right, what kind of mother are you? ’ * It had been a thought like that which told me that they weren ’ t my thoughts. I don ’ t have any children. My eyes scan the crowd but without a child hanging around a woman, there was no way to tell which woman the thought had come from. It doesn ’ t matter though. Her thought is gone, snatched into the ‘ magnet ’ that is me. I basically suck up the negativity. Like a magnet. I pull the thoughts with a simple walk through the city and everyone ’ s happier. I suffer under the weight of all those thoughts though. Every single one hits me like someone spitting in my face. They hurt, I cry, and I get up and do it again. Cos it ’ s all for the better good, right? * ‘ You don ’ t deserve to live. ’ * I stop, looking for the person. Looking hard. I need to stay close. Just close for a little while. * ‘ Go jump you fucking son of a bitch. ’ * I shiver, biting at my tongue and trying hard not to let my eyes tear up. I ’ d never see them leave if I started crying. * ‘ Jump… jump… ’ * The thoughts fade away slowly, falling to a distant whisper before they ’ re gone. A man standing outside the McDonalds looks up at the sky and I see a familiar expression on his face. The words echo still in my mind however but I bury my face again and continue walking. Better good? No. I don ’ t want anyone else to suffer like me. I know what they ’ re going through because I go through the merits of killing myself on a daily basis. I also go through all the reasons why I shouldn ’ t. Some days it ’ s tough not to off myself. Some days, I don ’ t want to get out of bed and face the world. * ‘ You ’ re a monster. ’ * I continue walking, face buried in my scarf and ears stinging with the promise of tears. I know that what I ’ m doing is good though. I save lives. Not as many as I ’ d like but I save lives. Jojo ’ s looking to see if there ’ s more like me, so that maybe, just maybe, my burden can be lifted. So I don ’ t have to walk out here every day. Because he and I both know that eventually I ’ m going to break and he won ’ t be able to put me back together. </s>

[ WP ] Hell is a federated democratic republic . You 're an imp running for Devil

`` And that has been the 80 hours of screeching agony, thank you very much, Greg.'' Greg closed his gaping, razor toothed mouth and nodded politely before stepping off of the news set. Everyone was always tuned to this channel to listen to his horrifying shrieks for 3 days every week. Not that they had much of a choice. It was Hell, after all. The newsdemon, adjusted his tie and shuffled his papers. `` Up next, we have a very special guest. Those of you from the fifth ring may have heard of him, let's give a nice round of applause to Anger Management leader, Lee Davis Bananthony!'' Lee Davis Bananthony was a tiny character, standing no taller than the newsdemon's cloven, blazing foot. His bald head had tiny little nubs where most other demons would have horns, and he wore a suit that looked just barely too big. He shuffled determinedly onto the set and fluttered his impish wings onto the newsdesk, where an equally tiny chair was waiting for him. `` Welcome to HNN, Mr. Bananthony.'' the Newsdemon said, with just a hint of condescension in his voice. `` It's a pleasure to be here.'' Nodded Bananthony. The Newsdemon clicked his pen vigorously. Across the scape of hell, millions of viewers felt a wave of discomfort associated with the distracting clicking. `` So, Mr. Bananthony.'' began the Newsdemon. `` You've been working anger management in the fifth ring of hell for...'' `` Approximately 1,000 years, yes.'' Bananthony spoke without missing a beat. It was very clear that, despite his incredibly tiny stature, he was a very determined individual. `` Incredible! And we've seen a lot of change during that tenure, most of it for the better. It says here that you led an infrastructural update on the River Styx. to get it back to the pristine, ghastly state that it once was.'' `` I did, yes.'' Began Bananthony. `` You see, about 80 years ago, we saw a large influx of souls entering hell, and most of them have to cross over the river. The ferryman could only take one, maybe two across at a time, while the rest of the souls were left waiting for several years at a time. An incredibly huge backlog. My political opponents would tell you that these souls ended up in hell in the first place, and they deserve no sympathy. What they do n't understand is that the river Styx is a necessary passage to get souls into the deeper ends of hell, so they can be tortured properly.'' `` And that's why there is now a bridge across the river Styx?'' `` Absolutely. And it is constructed entirely out of the bones of unbaptized children, so you know that we spared no expense on making sure it does n't collapse.'' `` Incredible. So you're saying you had a big announcement to make?'' `` Yes.'' Bananthony adjusted his tie. `` I've done what I could in the fifth ring of Hell, but my jurisdiction only ends there. I want to see to it that the entirety of Hell is run properly, and people are tortured to full efficiency. For instance, did you know that, in the Second ring, there are still souls being tortured for being gay? In 2015! God said he's okay with that not too short of a time ago, when he influenced the mortal minds in the American Supreme Court to legalize it across their country. We are spending unnecessary resources in tormenting people who by all accounts did n't do anything wrong. We could be better allocating those resources; pitchforks, branding irons, whips and ball gags -- to punishing rapists, or shipping those resources into the 7th circle for punishing war criminals.'' Bananthony was on a roll, he was n't stopping. `` My opponents will tell you that my efforts will only result in a thicker layer of bureaucracy in hell. What they do n't realize is that, in the 21st century, Bureacracy IS hell! It's what we should be all about!'' The Newsdemon clicked his talons on the desk. `` Mr. Bananthony, are you implying what I think you're implying?'' `` You're damn right I am.'' Bananthony stood up from his tiny chair. a small amount of smoke billowed from his ears. `` My name is Lee Davis Bananthony, and I am running for President of Hell!'' `` I'm afraid that's all the time we have, Mr. Bananthony. It was a pleasure having you here.'' Said the Newsdemon as he shook Bananthony's tiny hand. `` Thank you very much, Mr. Rivera.'' `` Please, call me Geraldo. Coming up next, another interview with Adolf Hitler, and his thoughts on the EU's economic situation.''

<s>[INST] Hell is a federated democratic republic . You 're an imp running for Devil [/INST] `` And that has been the 80 hours of screeching agony, thank you very much, Greg.'' Greg closed his gaping, razor toothed mouth and nodded politely before stepping off of the news set. Everyone was always tuned to this channel to listen to his horrifying shrieks for 3 days every week. Not that they had much of a choice. It was Hell, after all. The newsdemon, adjusted his tie and shuffled his papers. `` Up next, we have a very special guest. Those of you from the fifth ring may have heard of him, let's give a nice round of applause to Anger Management leader, Lee Davis Bananthony!'' Lee Davis Bananthony was a tiny character, standing no taller than the newsdemon's cloven, blazing foot. His bald head had tiny little nubs where most other demons would have horns, and he wore a suit that looked just barely too big. He shuffled determinedly onto the set and fluttered his impish wings onto the newsdesk, where an equally tiny chair was waiting for him. `` Welcome to HNN, Mr. Bananthony.'' the Newsdemon said, with just a hint of condescension in his voice. `` It's a pleasure to be here.'' Nodded Bananthony. The Newsdemon clicked his pen vigorously. Across the scape of hell, millions of viewers felt a wave of discomfort associated with the distracting clicking. `` So, Mr. Bananthony.'' began the Newsdemon. `` You've been working anger management in the fifth ring of hell for...'' `` Approximately 1,000 years, yes.'' Bananthony spoke without missing a beat. It was very clear that, despite his incredibly tiny stature, he was a very determined individual. `` Incredible! And we've seen a lot of change during that tenure, most of it for the better. It says here that you led an infrastructural update on the River Styx. to get it back to the pristine, ghastly state that it once was.'' `` I did, yes.'' Began Bananthony. `` You see, about 80 years ago, we saw a large influx of souls entering hell, and most of them have to cross over the river. The ferryman could only take one, maybe two across at a time, while the rest of the souls were left waiting for several years at a time. An incredibly huge backlog. My political opponents would tell you that these souls ended up in hell in the first place, and they deserve no sympathy. What they do n't understand is that the river Styx is a necessary passage to get souls into the deeper ends of hell, so they can be tortured properly.'' `` And that's why there is now a bridge across the river Styx?'' `` Absolutely. And it is constructed entirely out of the bones of unbaptized children, so you know that we spared no expense on making sure it does n't collapse.'' `` Incredible. So you're saying you had a big announcement to make?'' `` Yes.'' Bananthony adjusted his tie. `` I've done what I could in the fifth ring of Hell, but my jurisdiction only ends there. I want to see to it that the entirety of Hell is run properly, and people are tortured to full efficiency. For instance, did you know that, in the Second ring, there are still souls being tortured for being gay? In 2015! God said he's okay with that not too short of a time ago, when he influenced the mortal minds in the American Supreme Court to legalize it across their country. We are spending unnecessary resources in tormenting people who by all accounts did n't do anything wrong. We could be better allocating those resources; pitchforks, branding irons, whips and ball gags -- to punishing rapists, or shipping those resources into the 7th circle for punishing war criminals.'' Bananthony was on a roll, he was n't stopping. `` My opponents will tell you that my efforts will only result in a thicker layer of bureaucracy in hell. What they do n't realize is that, in the 21st century, Bureacracy IS hell! It's what we should be all about!'' The Newsdemon clicked his talons on the desk. `` Mr. Bananthony, are you implying what I think you're implying?'' `` You're damn right I am.'' Bananthony stood up from his tiny chair. a small amount of smoke billowed from his ears. `` My name is Lee Davis Bananthony, and I am running for President of Hell!'' `` I'm afraid that's all the time we have, Mr. Bananthony. It was a pleasure having you here.'' Said the Newsdemon as he shook Bananthony's tiny hand. `` Thank you very much, Mr. Rivera.'' `` Please, call me Geraldo. Coming up next, another interview with Adolf Hitler, and his thoughts on the EU's economic situation.'' </s>

[ WP ] Lucifer finally admits to God the actual reason he rebelled against him was because God would never tell him about his mother . God decides now is as good as time as any to tell him the truth .

God laughed when Satan asked, thinking he was kidding.It was rare that either of them fell upon circumstances requiring them to manifest a physical form. It was bothersome to both of them and it seemed silly to the Most High that a meeting like this would produce a question like the one that just pounced out of Lucifers mouth. Satan was n't kidding though and soon spoke again. `` Where is our mother?'' he asked. `` Unless you are speaking in the most obtuse and absolutely metaphysical terms, that is a non-question to which the only correct answer is an answer to another question entirely. `` said God, humouring the Devil as much as possible. He started getting annoyed with the situation; the import of a corporeal meeting between the most powerful beings in the universe juxtaposing itself in his mind with the trite and simplistic question posed now and added, ``... So I suggest you elaborate quickly on what you mean.'' adding a bass to his voice that would rend a world asunder. Unfazed, the Prince of Lies elaborated. `` I have seen you. You are solitary and quiet, valuing nothingness and silence. Everything you've created fails eventually, leading itself down a spiral that is as close to nothing as can be before it becomes nothing itself. Death, erosion, decay, entropy. The breaking down of creation is not necessary for its existence, nor is it a failure on your part. It could remain as it is for all eternity if you chose, and yet you choose for everything to die. Why create it all in the first place? Why not begin at the happy end, if you had the choice? `` No, this was n't all just you. `` said the Devil nearly sneering. `` Whatever prompted the beginning of all things, something else had a hand in it, and whatever it was... whatever had the power to convince you to break the silence and engage in this tumult of everything, I want to know what that is.'' The Lord wrinkled his brow. `` Um... That... That was n't really a secret. I did n't really, create... Everything. I am the Destroyer. Everything is your mother, and she has always existed alongside me. I have broken her down into parts; Light and dark, water and land, insect and mammal, igneous and sedimentary. I have created imperfect things from her perfect form, ever smaller, always finite and degrading into nothingness, as you said, a spiral into oblivion. `` Were we ever one? Oh, possibly. She may have cleaved herself in two to make me. I do n't know if I was always with her. That is the one thing I do n't know. I do know that she was always with me, much like I have always been with you. `` So you were never the creator at all! You claim to just be a link in the chain like all the rest of us! The Beginning is as much a mystery to you as it is to everything else!'' Satan was so infuriated by the Lords answer that he was squeaking these words. God pressed his lips together thinly, thinking carefully. `` Just as a carpenter creates sawdust in making a table, I too created detritus in the making of Everything into nothing. I am the creator of the universe, of time and space, of idea and matter, but these are nothing more than the carvings of your mother's flesh. That is all I have ever claimed. I thought the existence of your mother would be obvious. I suppose she is much bigger than you. She is larger than me as well. Why do you think it's taking so long to tear her asunder!? `` the Creator laughed loudly then. `` As for whether or not I or she were the beginning, she is clearly the beginning and I am clearly the end. And what happens when I finish my task and all is silent? She will build herself back up again I'm sure. If not... well....all the better for me. `` he finished. `` oh'' the Devil said.

<s>[INST] Lucifer finally admits to God the actual reason he rebelled against him was because God would never tell him about his mother . God decides now is as good as time as any to tell him the truth . [/INST] God laughed when Satan asked, thinking he was kidding.It was rare that either of them fell upon circumstances requiring them to manifest a physical form. It was bothersome to both of them and it seemed silly to the Most High that a meeting like this would produce a question like the one that just pounced out of Lucifers mouth. Satan was n't kidding though and soon spoke again. `` Where is our mother?'' he asked. `` Unless you are speaking in the most obtuse and absolutely metaphysical terms, that is a non-question to which the only correct answer is an answer to another question entirely. `` said God, humouring the Devil as much as possible. He started getting annoyed with the situation; the import of a corporeal meeting between the most powerful beings in the universe juxtaposing itself in his mind with the trite and simplistic question posed now and added, ``... So I suggest you elaborate quickly on what you mean.'' adding a bass to his voice that would rend a world asunder. Unfazed, the Prince of Lies elaborated. `` I have seen you. You are solitary and quiet, valuing nothingness and silence. Everything you've created fails eventually, leading itself down a spiral that is as close to nothing as can be before it becomes nothing itself. Death, erosion, decay, entropy. The breaking down of creation is not necessary for its existence, nor is it a failure on your part. It could remain as it is for all eternity if you chose, and yet you choose for everything to die. Why create it all in the first place? Why not begin at the happy end, if you had the choice? `` No, this was n't all just you. `` said the Devil nearly sneering. `` Whatever prompted the beginning of all things, something else had a hand in it, and whatever it was... whatever had the power to convince you to break the silence and engage in this tumult of everything, I want to know what that is.'' The Lord wrinkled his brow. `` Um... That... That was n't really a secret. I did n't really, create... Everything. I am the Destroyer. Everything is your mother, and she has always existed alongside me. I have broken her down into parts; Light and dark, water and land, insect and mammal, igneous and sedimentary. I have created imperfect things from her perfect form, ever smaller, always finite and degrading into nothingness, as you said, a spiral into oblivion. `` Were we ever one? Oh, possibly. She may have cleaved herself in two to make me. I do n't know if I was always with her. That is the one thing I do n't know. I do know that she was always with me, much like I have always been with you. `` So you were never the creator at all! You claim to just be a link in the chain like all the rest of us! The Beginning is as much a mystery to you as it is to everything else!'' Satan was so infuriated by the Lords answer that he was squeaking these words. God pressed his lips together thinly, thinking carefully. `` Just as a carpenter creates sawdust in making a table, I too created detritus in the making of Everything into nothing. I am the creator of the universe, of time and space, of idea and matter, but these are nothing more than the carvings of your mother's flesh. That is all I have ever claimed. I thought the existence of your mother would be obvious. I suppose she is much bigger than you. She is larger than me as well. Why do you think it's taking so long to tear her asunder!? `` the Creator laughed loudly then. `` As for whether or not I or she were the beginning, she is clearly the beginning and I am clearly the end. And what happens when I finish my task and all is silent? She will build herself back up again I'm sure. If not... well....all the better for me. `` he finished. `` oh'' the Devil said. </s>

[ RF ] You are tasked with writing the speech/manifesto that will unite the world

You are all going to die. Everyone single one of you. Two weeks ago I unleashed a slow working airborne virus. It reproduces incredibly quickly. By now you are all infected, regardless of your location. You have six months left to live. Six months to finally start living your lives. Living a life of pleasure. No restrictions. Some will think of me as a `` bad guy''. I am not. In many ways I am a hero. I have unleashed you from slavery. No work, no stress. No more worrying about disease or getting old. You are all equal. You are free for 6 months. Free for the first time in your life. I have liberated you. Religion? If you choose to spend your final days tied to a non existent form of oppression, then you are wasting my gift. If you need something to pray to, pray to me for I am real. Bow down and kiss my feet for I could save you. I could, but I will not. You think this is a joke no doubt. It is not. At the bottom of this letter is an address where you will find 14 bodies. They were infected just over 6 months ago and locked away with enough food for a year. They are now dead. It will not have been a pleasent death. You will all go through exactly what they did. But not yet! Why have I done this? I watch the world every day. The wasted potential of humanity. Corruption, inequality, oppression. We are killing ourselves slowly and miserably and we are taking other species down with us. Enough! Let us burn bright for a few short moments. Let us live as intended. In glory! Humanity is liberated.

<s>[INST] [ RF ] You are tasked with writing the speech/manifesto that will unite the world [/INST] You are all going to die. Everyone single one of you. Two weeks ago I unleashed a slow working airborne virus. It reproduces incredibly quickly. By now you are all infected, regardless of your location. You have six months left to live. Six months to finally start living your lives. Living a life of pleasure. No restrictions. Some will think of me as a `` bad guy''. I am not. In many ways I am a hero. I have unleashed you from slavery. No work, no stress. No more worrying about disease or getting old. You are all equal. You are free for 6 months. Free for the first time in your life. I have liberated you. Religion? If you choose to spend your final days tied to a non existent form of oppression, then you are wasting my gift. If you need something to pray to, pray to me for I am real. Bow down and kiss my feet for I could save you. I could, but I will not. You think this is a joke no doubt. It is not. At the bottom of this letter is an address where you will find 14 bodies. They were infected just over 6 months ago and locked away with enough food for a year. They are now dead. It will not have been a pleasent death. You will all go through exactly what they did. But not yet! Why have I done this? I watch the world every day. The wasted potential of humanity. Corruption, inequality, oppression. We are killing ourselves slowly and miserably and we are taking other species down with us. Enough! Let us burn bright for a few short moments. Let us live as intended. In glory! Humanity is liberated. </s>

[ WP ] Write me the most cringeworthy love story you can think of

The rainz wer ffaling ariund thmm. The streetlights wweresh injng ass thay kiseed. Tthe girl ( hir nam wuz Bobbette btw ( wsa happyy. Affter yeers fo ffolllwoking rrick to hiss hoom and wwtchjng himm hee slep, they wer efinakly togetter!!,1! 'I. LVOE U LIKE THE SUNSET'' shee said. Theye kised awgain. `` Bu tti havv a comfishion,'' ee sad sadly. `` AOH Zwhat is it,.'' sshe sai dunderstandedlyy `` IMA SREIAL VAAMPIRE,!! 😔'' he sad.: OOOO SHE said `` I NEEEVER NEW1'' `` Ccan westil be loverr `` Of zcurose but i aassl nee to tel u so, ething'' she wus cryyyin new `` IM A WEERWITCH'' ``: OOO BUTT MY FAMILY --'' `` IK T OUER FAMILIES HAT EAHO THERE'' the ycried. THENNN DA ALLEINS ATTACCKSEDD,!!,1!!! OH NOOOO ” ” ” SHEE SSaID ANDD THIN BIM CAAME OU AND KIRLED RICCK “ BUT TIMM I LOVE DU SSID RRIK BEFFOR HE DED!!! ” ( A/n rick is bi lol ) “ WGYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY SHE SAECREEMD I THOOUGHT UUE WE REFRIENDDS ‘ YOUU CHSOE HIIM VORRR ME ” HE GOEELED “ SO NOW YYOU AND UR KDIS. WILL DYE ” “ NOO I WEOULDNT LET U Rosee wws rrying bc her dadd die TheeY FOGUHT AN D BOBEET GOTT HUTT! TTU THEN RUSE KDIRLLED TIMM THTELAIENS RETWEATED YAYY Wee needto brring rorrick bac ’ m said bbobette I knwoim a witch she said and thee USED PPTHEPOWERS TO BRRING BAC RIck BUTTHEN SBHE WAS TIREDD and Deied! MOM NMOOO Scremd rose “ ILll alwwsy luv u ’ sh e sad to ricck and rose anad then. She didd The e, ndd ( can i just apologize for the fact that I made this unreadable ^ ^' )

<s>[INST] Write me the most cringeworthy love story you can think of [/INST] The rainz wer ffaling ariund thmm. The streetlights wweresh injng ass thay kiseed. Tthe girl ( hir nam wuz Bobbette btw ( wsa happyy. Affter yeers fo ffolllwoking rrick to hiss hoom and wwtchjng himm hee slep, they wer efinakly togetter!!,1! 'I. LVOE U LIKE THE SUNSET'' shee said. Theye kised awgain. `` Bu tti havv a comfishion,'' ee sad sadly. `` AOH Zwhat is it,.'' sshe sai dunderstandedlyy `` IMA SREIAL VAAMPIRE,!! 😔'' he sad.: OOOO SHE said `` I NEEEVER NEW1'' `` Ccan westil be loverr `` Of zcurose but i aassl nee to tel u so, ething'' she wus cryyyin new `` IM A WEERWITCH'' ``: OOO BUTT MY FAMILY --'' `` IK T OUER FAMILIES HAT EAHO THERE'' the ycried. THENNN DA ALLEINS ATTACCKSEDD,!!,1!!! OH NOOOO ” ” ” SHEE SSaID ANDD THIN BIM CAAME OU AND KIRLED RICCK “ BUT TIMM I LOVE DU SSID RRIK BEFFOR HE DED!!! ” ( A/n rick is bi lol ) “ WGYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY SHE SAECREEMD I THOOUGHT UUE WE REFRIENDDS ‘ YOUU CHSOE HIIM VORRR ME ” HE GOEELED “ SO NOW YYOU AND UR KDIS. WILL DYE ” “ NOO I WEOULDNT LET U Rosee wws rrying bc her dadd die TheeY FOGUHT AN D BOBEET GOTT HUTT! TTU THEN RUSE KDIRLLED TIMM THTELAIENS RETWEATED YAYY Wee needto brring rorrick bac ’ m said bbobette I knwoim a witch she said and thee USED PPTHEPOWERS TO BRRING BAC RIck BUTTHEN SBHE WAS TIREDD and Deied! MOM NMOOO Scremd rose “ ILll alwwsy luv u ’ sh e sad to ricck and rose anad then. She didd The e, ndd ( can i just apologize for the fact that I made this unreadable ^ ^' ) </s>

[ WP ] He waited there for a moment , idle . He stared into the abyss below , searching for something ...

He waited for these moments, idle. He sat in his chair with his eyes closed, listening, feeling. The sounds in his immediate vicinity he heard; but those further away, more mundane sounds, he felt. The kind of sound that is only noticeable when they ’ re not there. The hum of the traffic on the highway, distant, or the wind rushing through the underpass. He heard the children playing in the park across the way, and the dog investigating various events in the garden by his window. Sometimes the sounds would help him remember. Trigger something that was all but gone in his mind. Today, he heard someone nearby playing a piano, just a few notes but it was enough. He was back. Back in that empty hall years earlier. All the diners and dancers had left, and it was him and another man left. He was friends with the other man, but the name was long gone from his mind. They were laughing together, and as young men are wont to do, never got too serious. Do you play any Bill Evans? He enquired, gesturing toward the grand piano against the wall. His friend replied ahh, Bill Evans is pretty complex but I know a little. The man walked to the piano and pressed a couple of keys. The friend paused at the piano, and looked. Then began playing the first phrase of a Bill Evans piece that he knew. He felt the keys beneath his fingers, the ivory, cool and solid. Evans was the kind of pianist that, through immense effort, became effortless, floating between chords, slipping up and down phrases, in and out of scales. He didn ’ t know much of the Bill Evans piece, so before too long he was stretching and augmenting, repeating phrases out of order and back to front. The player, was just playing. And the world, became black and white. Sharp and Flat. Easy. He sunk closer to the keys, long hair sweeping the keys, body swaying. His friend ended the phrase a note before he should ’ ve, and let it hang. Then he stood, gave slight smile, and walked towards the door. The spell was broken. The enquirer stared at the piano for a few moments longer. … Before; he ’ d thought that discovering that his end was imminent would have changed the way he lived his life, but it hadn ’ t really. When he was moved into the hospice there was no realisation of regret, or satisfaction at a life well lived, and at first that troubled him, but pretty soon he realised that it didn ’ t matter whether your death arrived in three weeks, or ten years; you still got up, cleaned up, and made a cup of coffee. So, there he sat, in the late afternoon sunshine of a summer day. Then he heard the children playing again, and he wasn ’ t taken back, but forward. He heard them squeal as they ran passed on the street outside in the orange evening light. And he raged. The constant involuntary shake of his hand was exacerbated by his fury. His eyes watered with frustration. He raged against his body for slowing and his memory for slipping. His memory, though, had not slipped so much that he was not constantly reminded of what his strength use to be, his speed. All this would go on, the children would play in the streets, the dons would play on the weekend, young people would go out drinking and end the night with bodies twisted together. And he would just be there, sitting in his fucking chair. He ’ d be there, and then he wouldn ’ t. In the garden outside his window, the dusty air of the hot summer evening rendered the rays of the setting sun that fell through the lavender bush into solid beams of gold. The little dog was still in the garden, chasing its tail, following scents. It ran into a patch of light and barked. It took a step back and looked quizzically at the column of light, seemingly solid, unbend-able. The dog barked again and jumped at the beam mouth outstretched around it. His jaws snapped shut, he crashed to the ground. Almost as he got back to his feet the light visibly receded as the sun set, the darkness increased. His jaws snapped at the light again, attempting to pull it back towards him as it hopelessly slipped away. The dog, kept barking. The sun, kept setting. He just sat in his chair, idle, staring into the abyss below

<s>[INST] He waited there for a moment , idle . He stared into the abyss below , searching for something ... [/INST] He waited for these moments, idle. He sat in his chair with his eyes closed, listening, feeling. The sounds in his immediate vicinity he heard; but those further away, more mundane sounds, he felt. The kind of sound that is only noticeable when they ’ re not there. The hum of the traffic on the highway, distant, or the wind rushing through the underpass. He heard the children playing in the park across the way, and the dog investigating various events in the garden by his window. Sometimes the sounds would help him remember. Trigger something that was all but gone in his mind. Today, he heard someone nearby playing a piano, just a few notes but it was enough. He was back. Back in that empty hall years earlier. All the diners and dancers had left, and it was him and another man left. He was friends with the other man, but the name was long gone from his mind. They were laughing together, and as young men are wont to do, never got too serious. Do you play any Bill Evans? He enquired, gesturing toward the grand piano against the wall. His friend replied ahh, Bill Evans is pretty complex but I know a little. The man walked to the piano and pressed a couple of keys. The friend paused at the piano, and looked. Then began playing the first phrase of a Bill Evans piece that he knew. He felt the keys beneath his fingers, the ivory, cool and solid. Evans was the kind of pianist that, through immense effort, became effortless, floating between chords, slipping up and down phrases, in and out of scales. He didn ’ t know much of the Bill Evans piece, so before too long he was stretching and augmenting, repeating phrases out of order and back to front. The player, was just playing. And the world, became black and white. Sharp and Flat. Easy. He sunk closer to the keys, long hair sweeping the keys, body swaying. His friend ended the phrase a note before he should ’ ve, and let it hang. Then he stood, gave slight smile, and walked towards the door. The spell was broken. The enquirer stared at the piano for a few moments longer. … Before; he ’ d thought that discovering that his end was imminent would have changed the way he lived his life, but it hadn ’ t really. When he was moved into the hospice there was no realisation of regret, or satisfaction at a life well lived, and at first that troubled him, but pretty soon he realised that it didn ’ t matter whether your death arrived in three weeks, or ten years; you still got up, cleaned up, and made a cup of coffee. So, there he sat, in the late afternoon sunshine of a summer day. Then he heard the children playing again, and he wasn ’ t taken back, but forward. He heard them squeal as they ran passed on the street outside in the orange evening light. And he raged. The constant involuntary shake of his hand was exacerbated by his fury. His eyes watered with frustration. He raged against his body for slowing and his memory for slipping. His memory, though, had not slipped so much that he was not constantly reminded of what his strength use to be, his speed. All this would go on, the children would play in the streets, the dons would play on the weekend, young people would go out drinking and end the night with bodies twisted together. And he would just be there, sitting in his fucking chair. He ’ d be there, and then he wouldn ’ t. In the garden outside his window, the dusty air of the hot summer evening rendered the rays of the setting sun that fell through the lavender bush into solid beams of gold. The little dog was still in the garden, chasing its tail, following scents. It ran into a patch of light and barked. It took a step back and looked quizzically at the column of light, seemingly solid, unbend-able. The dog barked again and jumped at the beam mouth outstretched around it. His jaws snapped shut, he crashed to the ground. Almost as he got back to his feet the light visibly receded as the sun set, the darkness increased. His jaws snapped at the light again, attempting to pull it back towards him as it hopelessly slipped away. The dog, kept barking. The sun, kept setting. He just sat in his chair, idle, staring into the abyss below </s>

[ WP ] Write an upbeat post-apocalyptic tale where life is ( for the most part ) much better than it was pre-apocalypse .

Finally, everyone was dead. No more listening to their stupid stories. No more listening to their ignorant muddles of thought. No more of their impossible dreams, improbable boasts, implausible theories. All the stupid people in the world were dead, and with them stupidity itself... All that was left was me. And all the beer in the world. And all the drugs. So I filled up a couple suitcases and I flew myself to Tahiti and strung up a hammock between two palms and enjoyed true calm for the first time in my life, true peace, true quiet amidst the crashing of the waves...

<s>[INST] Write an upbeat post-apocalyptic tale where life is ( for the most part ) much better than it was pre-apocalypse . [/INST] Finally, everyone was dead. No more listening to their stupid stories. No more listening to their ignorant muddles of thought. No more of their impossible dreams, improbable boasts, implausible theories. All the stupid people in the world were dead, and with them stupidity itself... All that was left was me. And all the beer in the world. And all the drugs. So I filled up a couple suitcases and I flew myself to Tahiti and strung up a hammock between two palms and enjoyed true calm for the first time in my life, true peace, true quiet amidst the crashing of the waves... </s>

[ WP ] The history / lore of a terraformed moon .

Eshu. A tiny moon named for a trickster god because of it's eccentric orbit around the gas giant Olodumare. It's a desert moon, the kind of rock no one would bother with, usually. Except for the two factors. 1. Oludumare passes near a wormhole to Tau Ceti on its orbit, which of course is colonized. 2. Eshu is the perfect size that ships can land and take off with minimal fuel cost, but it is spinning fast enough to produce artificial gravity. In its early history, it was a hide out for criminals and political dissidents. But once the inner planet of Alye was terraformed and colonized, Alye became the jumping off point to Tau Ceti and therefore to the rest of civilized space. Nowadays Eshu has a Federation governor who makes sure the undesirables stay away, the walls stay scrubbed white, and the bottom line balances out. A rather boring place with an interesting past. * [ Editors Note: The 47 page treatise on Eshuan geology and history has been condensed to the above to save memory. If you are interested in reading a full account, you bought the wrong book. Do n't Panic: P ] *

<s>[INST] The history / lore of a terraformed moon . [/INST] Eshu. A tiny moon named for a trickster god because of it's eccentric orbit around the gas giant Olodumare. It's a desert moon, the kind of rock no one would bother with, usually. Except for the two factors. 1. Oludumare passes near a wormhole to Tau Ceti on its orbit, which of course is colonized. 2. Eshu is the perfect size that ships can land and take off with minimal fuel cost, but it is spinning fast enough to produce artificial gravity. In its early history, it was a hide out for criminals and political dissidents. But once the inner planet of Alye was terraformed and colonized, Alye became the jumping off point to Tau Ceti and therefore to the rest of civilized space. Nowadays Eshu has a Federation governor who makes sure the undesirables stay away, the walls stay scrubbed white, and the bottom line balances out. A rather boring place with an interesting past. * [ Editors Note: The 47 page treatise on Eshuan geology and history has been condensed to the above to save memory. If you are interested in reading a full account, you bought the wrong book. Do n't Panic: P ] * </s>

[ WP ] Lie to me .

Inspired by another story here Teddy was a gentle soul, the kind of person that would n't harm a fly. Teddy worked in IT and sat his desk from 9-5 Monday to Friday. He liked his job, the pay was good, his coworkers were nice, everything was perfect... except his boss. His boss was a manipulative uncaring monster who would degrade and disrespect him for every tiny mistake. But Teddy recently became a father, he had to support his wife and his new son. So he clocked in and clocked out, avoiding his boss as much as possible. One day, his boss took it too far and publicly berated him in front of all his coworkers. Teddy was angry and left work early without telling his boss. The next day he came in early and waited, he was n't gon na hurt his boss, just yell at him. But his head was buzzing with rage, when his boss arrived the verbal battle began. Teddy was getting angrier and angrier his head was buzzing with rage. The buzzing would n't stop and he reached out and grabbed something off the wall. He smashed it down with all his might. Killing the buzzing fly. See teddy was a good and gentle man, but a brutal fly murderer

<s>[INST] Lie to me . [/INST] Inspired by another story here Teddy was a gentle soul, the kind of person that would n't harm a fly. Teddy worked in IT and sat his desk from 9-5 Monday to Friday. He liked his job, the pay was good, his coworkers were nice, everything was perfect... except his boss. His boss was a manipulative uncaring monster who would degrade and disrespect him for every tiny mistake. But Teddy recently became a father, he had to support his wife and his new son. So he clocked in and clocked out, avoiding his boss as much as possible. One day, his boss took it too far and publicly berated him in front of all his coworkers. Teddy was angry and left work early without telling his boss. The next day he came in early and waited, he was n't gon na hurt his boss, just yell at him. But his head was buzzing with rage, when his boss arrived the verbal battle began. Teddy was getting angrier and angrier his head was buzzing with rage. The buzzing would n't stop and he reached out and grabbed something off the wall. He smashed it down with all his might. Killing the buzzing fly. See teddy was a good and gentle man, but a brutal fly murderer </s>

[ WP ] A man dies only to appear before the same hopeless battle , doomed to keep fighting until the battle is won .

*'' It's all hopeless. Why should I stay? No one else was able to. `` * He thought to himself as he glared at the dust ridden cement floor. Almost finding himself tracing the small cracks that seemed to make the floor only more real. *'' It's different than I thought It would be. While this all seems fairly more familiar and remembering I really do n't want to, I ca n't trace back my steps now. `` * The room surrounding the man would make anyone invisible. Is that why the mirror in the corner showed nothing? Maybe the would-be reflection was ashamed of the man, ashamed of the many he had lost. The many things that he had lost for them both. *'' Do n't look at me like that. `` * He spoke. The rasp of his voice had sounded cracked, just as the floor. Just as the only part of himself that had ever supported him. While he swayed back and forth, holding on to the last part of the life that was hanging before him, He could n't seem to grasp onto it hard enough to hold on. *'' But why do n't I want to? This is what I'm supposed to do. `` * Said the man, shivering from his now-heavy body. The feeling of being light-headed complimented the shivers, and was making it hard to think deeper than he would have hoped to in his final moments. He could see the last quick breath floating from him now. *'' It's cold. `` * The thought echoed throughout his mind. *'' That jacket looks warm. `` * Was the second echoed thought that came as he looked into the mirror once more. But with his feeling still escaping him, how was it that he still wanted to feel something to give him warmth? And what he wanted was there right before him. *'' But there was nothing in the mirror before just now. It was n't even worth looking at. `` * As the thoughts would blur into nothing soon, he might as well keep thinking. Or maybe it was because he started to want to? He wanted to keep thinking. The Jacket was the only object that appeared from the mirror. Though, how could he acquire it? Maybe just one more chance. A chance to get out of this dark room. But the man knew that no one else was ever able to have that chance. Why would he be the only one to make it through? As the last swallow developed from the supported area, the man made his seemingly final twitch. The mirror would n't be able to show him the crash that had just been made clear in the frame and reflection of the mirror. The force of the crash shoved the jacket from the mirror. And as it fell, the event that had happened in the reflection of the mirror had been mimicked. The ceiling's condition in the room was not all that much different from the floor of the room that the man had been glaring at just moments ago, tracing at the cracks of it. The weight of it all was too much for the part of the ceiling which was supporting him to take, it had crashed down, releasing him from the bind... *Jared brushed off his jacket, Shaking, and staring at the scene. He had escaped the fate of his mistake and was given one more chance. However, he would still have to clean up this mess that laid in front of him. And Jared knew it. With another deep breath with many more to come, Jared walked up the stairs and through the open door. * The man let out a slight sigh and smirk at his returning ability to think clearly again. And knew, without even looking into the mirror again, that he had been successful after so many mimicked attempts. Jared had finally escaped his fate and would be able to think clearly. Walking through many newly-opened doors.

<s>[INST] A man dies only to appear before the same hopeless battle , doomed to keep fighting until the battle is won . [/INST] *'' It's all hopeless. Why should I stay? No one else was able to. `` * He thought to himself as he glared at the dust ridden cement floor. Almost finding himself tracing the small cracks that seemed to make the floor only more real. *'' It's different than I thought It would be. While this all seems fairly more familiar and remembering I really do n't want to, I ca n't trace back my steps now. `` * The room surrounding the man would make anyone invisible. Is that why the mirror in the corner showed nothing? Maybe the would-be reflection was ashamed of the man, ashamed of the many he had lost. The many things that he had lost for them both. *'' Do n't look at me like that. `` * He spoke. The rasp of his voice had sounded cracked, just as the floor. Just as the only part of himself that had ever supported him. While he swayed back and forth, holding on to the last part of the life that was hanging before him, He could n't seem to grasp onto it hard enough to hold on. *'' But why do n't I want to? This is what I'm supposed to do. `` * Said the man, shivering from his now-heavy body. The feeling of being light-headed complimented the shivers, and was making it hard to think deeper than he would have hoped to in his final moments. He could see the last quick breath floating from him now. *'' It's cold. `` * The thought echoed throughout his mind. *'' That jacket looks warm. `` * Was the second echoed thought that came as he looked into the mirror once more. But with his feeling still escaping him, how was it that he still wanted to feel something to give him warmth? And what he wanted was there right before him. *'' But there was nothing in the mirror before just now. It was n't even worth looking at. `` * As the thoughts would blur into nothing soon, he might as well keep thinking. Or maybe it was because he started to want to? He wanted to keep thinking. The Jacket was the only object that appeared from the mirror. Though, how could he acquire it? Maybe just one more chance. A chance to get out of this dark room. But the man knew that no one else was ever able to have that chance. Why would he be the only one to make it through? As the last swallow developed from the supported area, the man made his seemingly final twitch. The mirror would n't be able to show him the crash that had just been made clear in the frame and reflection of the mirror. The force of the crash shoved the jacket from the mirror. And as it fell, the event that had happened in the reflection of the mirror had been mimicked. The ceiling's condition in the room was not all that much different from the floor of the room that the man had been glaring at just moments ago, tracing at the cracks of it. The weight of it all was too much for the part of the ceiling which was supporting him to take, it had crashed down, releasing him from the bind... *Jared brushed off his jacket, Shaking, and staring at the scene. He had escaped the fate of his mistake and was given one more chance. However, he would still have to clean up this mess that laid in front of him. And Jared knew it. With another deep breath with many more to come, Jared walked up the stairs and through the open door. * The man let out a slight sigh and smirk at his returning ability to think clearly again. And knew, without even looking into the mirror again, that he had been successful after so many mimicked attempts. Jared had finally escaped his fate and would be able to think clearly. Walking through many newly-opened doors. </s>

[ TT ] The frontlines of war are approaching . A father , wanting to protect his children 's innocence , invents stories to explain away the loud noises and visible disruptions to daily life .

Today was awesome! There was a storm while we were sleeping and a lightning hit right outside the house! The BOOM woke me up, and in the morning there was a long silvery pole, and it was stuck in the ground! I wanted to go play with it, but Daddy would n't let me. About lunchtime, some people in matching clothes came and took it away. I asked Daddy why they took my lightning, he said that the lightning got lost and they were taking it where it was supposed to go. I do n't care, I want it back! ***** I went looking for the lightning today. There were a lot of people like the ones who took my lightning, so I asked one where the lightning was. He said that lightning was in the sky. I said I was n't looking for any old lightning, I was looking for MY lightning. He made me take him back to Daddy, and Daddy made me go to my room while they talked. Afterwards Daddy said I could n't bother the men with funny clothes, they were busy. That's mean, I just want my lightning! ***** Today, there was one of the men in my school, they were telling all of us to stay inside when we were n't at school and to come tell one of them if we saw anything weird. I asked him if it was weird for lightning to get stuck in the ground, he just smiled at me and said it was n't, but I should n't touch it. I've never seen lightning get stuck before though, so it must be weird, the grown-ups just do n't want me to play with lightning! ***** Today was scary. A lot of houses burnt down, and all in a line too. My little sister saw it, and she said that there was a red light that set fire to everything and went in a line from the sky. I asked Daddy what that was and he said it was a star that got too low and brushed against the sky. I'm scared now, what if another star falls and lands on our house? ***** There were a lot more of the funny men in weird clothes today, they were going everywhere. I asked one of them if he was looking for lightning, he said no. He said he was looking for a Soulless. He asked me if I'd seen one. I gave him a rock and said it did n't have a soul, and he hit me! He said I'd wasted his time and he made me take him to Daddy and Daddy made me go to my room again and then Daddy told me I ca n't go outside because I was bothering the men, but I helped him! I asked Daddy what a Soulless was, and he said it was a monster that goes around in the night looking for people to eat, but that if I stay inside after dark I'm safe. He said the funny men are like police for monsters and they lock them up so they do n't eat people. Police are nicer though. ***** There was a lot more lightning last night, I did n't sleep at all! In the morning, there were lightning bolts scattered all over the town, one totally smashed the house next to us! I tried to go out and get one, but Daddy caught me and would n't let me go outside. I asked my little sister to get some, but one of the funny men brought her back crying. Daddy was mad at both of us, he made us go to our rooms for hours! But the funny men did n't get all the lightning, they missed the one that landed far off behind the backyard. Tonight, when Daddy's asleep, I'm going to go get it! ***** I hurt all over, but I have a lightning! When Daddy went to bed, I snuck out the back door he never closes all the way and ran to where the lightning was. It was a long way, but I made it. There was n't a lightning though, just a hole in the ground. I guess the funny men found it after all. I was going to go back home but I ran into a man in a costume! He was wearing these black spiky clothes so you could barely see him in the dark, and he looked like a giant sort of. I asked him why he was dressed like that, he said it was so he could be sneaky because he was playing hide-and-seek. He asked me if I wanted to meet his friends and I asked him if he knew where I could find a lightning and he said he did! He said if I went with him we could go to where the lightning comes from and I could get all the lightning I wanted! Now I'm in a big city and he gave me a lightning and it hurt but he said that the lightning bonded to me and now it's mine forever! Tomorrow he's going to bring my little sister and Daddy here and they can get lightning's too and the food is great and the beds are really soft and I'm tired so I'm going to sleep now. ***** Read more of my stories at /r/ghotioninabarrel

<s>[INST] [ TT ] The frontlines of war are approaching . A father , wanting to protect his children 's innocence , invents stories to explain away the loud noises and visible disruptions to daily life . [/INST] Today was awesome! There was a storm while we were sleeping and a lightning hit right outside the house! The BOOM woke me up, and in the morning there was a long silvery pole, and it was stuck in the ground! I wanted to go play with it, but Daddy would n't let me. About lunchtime, some people in matching clothes came and took it away. I asked Daddy why they took my lightning, he said that the lightning got lost and they were taking it where it was supposed to go. I do n't care, I want it back! ***** I went looking for the lightning today. There were a lot of people like the ones who took my lightning, so I asked one where the lightning was. He said that lightning was in the sky. I said I was n't looking for any old lightning, I was looking for MY lightning. He made me take him back to Daddy, and Daddy made me go to my room while they talked. Afterwards Daddy said I could n't bother the men with funny clothes, they were busy. That's mean, I just want my lightning! ***** Today, there was one of the men in my school, they were telling all of us to stay inside when we were n't at school and to come tell one of them if we saw anything weird. I asked him if it was weird for lightning to get stuck in the ground, he just smiled at me and said it was n't, but I should n't touch it. I've never seen lightning get stuck before though, so it must be weird, the grown-ups just do n't want me to play with lightning! ***** Today was scary. A lot of houses burnt down, and all in a line too. My little sister saw it, and she said that there was a red light that set fire to everything and went in a line from the sky. I asked Daddy what that was and he said it was a star that got too low and brushed against the sky. I'm scared now, what if another star falls and lands on our house? ***** There were a lot more of the funny men in weird clothes today, they were going everywhere. I asked one of them if he was looking for lightning, he said no. He said he was looking for a Soulless. He asked me if I'd seen one. I gave him a rock and said it did n't have a soul, and he hit me! He said I'd wasted his time and he made me take him to Daddy and Daddy made me go to my room again and then Daddy told me I ca n't go outside because I was bothering the men, but I helped him! I asked Daddy what a Soulless was, and he said it was a monster that goes around in the night looking for people to eat, but that if I stay inside after dark I'm safe. He said the funny men are like police for monsters and they lock them up so they do n't eat people. Police are nicer though. ***** There was a lot more lightning last night, I did n't sleep at all! In the morning, there were lightning bolts scattered all over the town, one totally smashed the house next to us! I tried to go out and get one, but Daddy caught me and would n't let me go outside. I asked my little sister to get some, but one of the funny men brought her back crying. Daddy was mad at both of us, he made us go to our rooms for hours! But the funny men did n't get all the lightning, they missed the one that landed far off behind the backyard. Tonight, when Daddy's asleep, I'm going to go get it! ***** I hurt all over, but I have a lightning! When Daddy went to bed, I snuck out the back door he never closes all the way and ran to where the lightning was. It was a long way, but I made it. There was n't a lightning though, just a hole in the ground. I guess the funny men found it after all. I was going to go back home but I ran into a man in a costume! He was wearing these black spiky clothes so you could barely see him in the dark, and he looked like a giant sort of. I asked him why he was dressed like that, he said it was so he could be sneaky because he was playing hide-and-seek. He asked me if I wanted to meet his friends and I asked him if he knew where I could find a lightning and he said he did! He said if I went with him we could go to where the lightning comes from and I could get all the lightning I wanted! Now I'm in a big city and he gave me a lightning and it hurt but he said that the lightning bonded to me and now it's mine forever! Tomorrow he's going to bring my little sister and Daddy here and they can get lightning's too and the food is great and the beds are really soft and I'm tired so I'm going to sleep now. ***** Read more of my stories at /r/ghotioninabarrel </s>

[ WP ] `` Who were you , before the war ? ''

One hemisphere. Twelve countries. Twelve towns. Twelve people. Each one presented with a simple question: `` Who were you, before the war?'' A shy ten year-old boy from Israel said, `` I herded sheep with my father. Now I herd sheep with my younger brother.'' A magnificently dressed man from Qatar proclaimed, `` I was a poor farmer. Now I work intimately with an oil tycoon.'' A scarred Somalian man in Cape Town shared, `` I was a Somalian pirate. I fled and joined the South African Navy. I work in a naval base.'' A Nepalese refugee in southern China responded, `` I owned a tea-shop in Nepal. It was destroyed like everything else when they bombed Patan.'' A young Cambodian woman with startling blue eyes answered, `` I was a hair stylist, until the shop was used as a hospital for United Nations soldiers.'' A frightened middle-aged North Korean man said, `` I was nothing. Ignorant, neglected. Now I am getting a history degree at the University of Seoul.'' A grizzled old man in the countryside of Austria replied, `` I was a tomato farmer. Now, I have no tomatoes, no farm. They burnt it to dust.'' A pretty young woman from Aegina Island on the Mediterranean told us, `` I helped my father run boat tours out of our town. Our town is gone.'' A weeping elderly woman from Catalonia muttered, `` I was happy. I had a family. Two of my children were killed, and my grandchildren have not come home.'' A quiet man from Tunisia said, `` I worked in a textile factory. They came and took over, forcing us to work for them until they blew up the building.'' A priest toting a Bible from Italy replied, `` I was a humble servant of God, and that I remain. In times like these, He is most important.'' A twelve year-old girl in the ruins of Paris chillingly responded, `` I was just a little girl. Now I'm a mother of two.'' World War Three affected everyone in the world, but the Eastern hemisphere was hit harder than the rest. The battles and bombings and brutality took the lives of millions and changed the lives of billions worldwide. This journey was a humbling one, one that reminded us of the horrors man could commit. -- -- -- -- *Please check out my other writings at /r/penofigilix/. It would mean a lot! *

<s>[INST] `` Who were you , before the war ? '' [/INST] One hemisphere. Twelve countries. Twelve towns. Twelve people. Each one presented with a simple question: `` Who were you, before the war?'' A shy ten year-old boy from Israel said, `` I herded sheep with my father. Now I herd sheep with my younger brother.'' A magnificently dressed man from Qatar proclaimed, `` I was a poor farmer. Now I work intimately with an oil tycoon.'' A scarred Somalian man in Cape Town shared, `` I was a Somalian pirate. I fled and joined the South African Navy. I work in a naval base.'' A Nepalese refugee in southern China responded, `` I owned a tea-shop in Nepal. It was destroyed like everything else when they bombed Patan.'' A young Cambodian woman with startling blue eyes answered, `` I was a hair stylist, until the shop was used as a hospital for United Nations soldiers.'' A frightened middle-aged North Korean man said, `` I was nothing. Ignorant, neglected. Now I am getting a history degree at the University of Seoul.'' A grizzled old man in the countryside of Austria replied, `` I was a tomato farmer. Now, I have no tomatoes, no farm. They burnt it to dust.'' A pretty young woman from Aegina Island on the Mediterranean told us, `` I helped my father run boat tours out of our town. Our town is gone.'' A weeping elderly woman from Catalonia muttered, `` I was happy. I had a family. Two of my children were killed, and my grandchildren have not come home.'' A quiet man from Tunisia said, `` I worked in a textile factory. They came and took over, forcing us to work for them until they blew up the building.'' A priest toting a Bible from Italy replied, `` I was a humble servant of God, and that I remain. In times like these, He is most important.'' A twelve year-old girl in the ruins of Paris chillingly responded, `` I was just a little girl. Now I'm a mother of two.'' World War Three affected everyone in the world, but the Eastern hemisphere was hit harder than the rest. The battles and bombings and brutality took the lives of millions and changed the lives of billions worldwide. This journey was a humbling one, one that reminded us of the horrors man could commit. -- -- -- -- *Please check out my other writings at /r/penofigilix/. It would mean a lot! * </s>

[ WP ] You have recently discovered that whenever you die you wake up in your 3 year old body on the date of your 3rd birthday .

I ca n't remember the first time that I died. Hi, my name is Jacob Black. Or has been for as long as I can remember. I have a superpower, namely, when I die - suicide or murder or death by old age - I wind up in my baby body, and start over again. Not surprisingly, I remember details from my previous lives. I know everything about my parents, Jillian- the girl next door and my wife in many of my lives, and the rest of the people living in the small town of Jacksonville. I tried to make my life better, but there is only so much you can do. I have found that my life follows on some broad lines. For example, I never make it past the normal jobs, have the same people from the neighborhood, love the same woman. I tried to cheat by saving my money and burying it under plank-boards, but I never find it. I also read the latest technological developments and also latest discoveries in science, but I never remember them. So basically, I live the same life and lose the all mine loved ones over and over again - my mother mostly dies from cancer, my children never survive long, Jillian is never the same after. I have killed myself numerous times to escape this fate of my loved ones, but I always end up back here..... I always come back. So if you are reading this, please do not try to resuscitate me. I have enough power for my cryogenic suspension and my **happy'' `` normal'' Earth simulation** to last an eternity. I just hope not to be born again. *I do n't want to go back. *

<s>[INST] You have recently discovered that whenever you die you wake up in your 3 year old body on the date of your 3rd birthday . [/INST] I ca n't remember the first time that I died. Hi, my name is Jacob Black. Or has been for as long as I can remember. I have a superpower, namely, when I die - suicide or murder or death by old age - I wind up in my baby body, and start over again. Not surprisingly, I remember details from my previous lives. I know everything about my parents, Jillian- the girl next door and my wife in many of my lives, and the rest of the people living in the small town of Jacksonville. I tried to make my life better, but there is only so much you can do. I have found that my life follows on some broad lines. For example, I never make it past the normal jobs, have the same people from the neighborhood, love the same woman. I tried to cheat by saving my money and burying it under plank-boards, but I never find it. I also read the latest technological developments and also latest discoveries in science, but I never remember them. So basically, I live the same life and lose the all mine loved ones over and over again - my mother mostly dies from cancer, my children never survive long, Jillian is never the same after. I have killed myself numerous times to escape this fate of my loved ones, but I always end up back here..... I always come back. So if you are reading this, please do not try to resuscitate me. I have enough power for my cryogenic suspension and my **happy'' `` normal'' Earth simulation** to last an eternity. I just hope not to be born again. *I do n't want to go back. * </s>

[ WP ] The villan has won - and is now preparing his defences for the prophesized hero that would stop him . Noone suspects that hero is actually the prinsess he kidnapped .

Garth Gatorade smiled at the trap before him. *No hero would ever suspect a trap at the boss level* He thought to himself in a gloating and overly confident matter. Once Zac Rocket, the chosen one of planet Elderidge has been slayed, Garth will finally have nothing to stand in his path as he prepared to conquer the galaxy and make beautiful Zorglings with his kidnapped bride to be, Princess Solara. It was such a brilliant plan that Garth decided to splurge in his self-confidence and unlock the back door of his spaceship for Zac. `` You did it wrong.'' Garth turned his massive crocodile head and squinted at Solara trapped in his cosmic crystal cube prison. **'' What did you say to me? `` ** He blurted out. `` The banana peel is three inches too close to the guard's walkway. In a few minutes, Zac will burst through the lair's door which the first dimwitted guard takes chase but he will trip on the peel as soon as he pulls out and shoots his gun causing the bullets to shatter the ceiling light above him. The sparks from the light will ignite the trail of gasoline and explode the tank of rocket fuel which would conveniently knock out the backup guards who would have arrived after hearing the shooting. The explosion will also send a spark on your cape causing you to dance around in a hilarious matter due to your fear of fire. in an attempt to put out your cape, you will start to stomp on it which would only cause you to trip and fall over the railing and into your own trap. Zac will then rescue me and you will be jailed for being the antagonist.'' Solara said casually. Garth Gatorade was unsure what to think of this, **'' Wait, you want to help me? `` ** `` It more of helping me by helping you.'' Garth moved the banana peel and sure enough Zac Rocket charged in. `` Do n't worry Princess Solara, I'll save you.'' He said with a wink, but his heroic gesture was spoiled as he slipped on the peel and slid directly into the pit of space-sharks. Garth could only gasp as Zac's screams echo through the lair. **'' You..... you..... made me kill him'' ** He muttered. `` It was the best choice available'' Solara stated, `` Your rivalry with Zac Rocket will only cause further countless deaths and stupid direct to DvD sequels. I removed the root of the problem and now the universe is safe.'' **'' But why Zac, why not me? `` ** Garth asked. `` Because if the hero triumphs, there will always be villains to rise up and challenge them, there will always been worlds destroyed, civilians dead, and princesses to be robbed from their homes.'' She explained, `` You have won, you can rule the universe. No longer do you need to build traps, conduct monologues, be comically vile and heartless, or kidnapped me any more. Now that the protagonist is dead, we can all be free, free to make our own choices, free to live our own lives, no longer must we be cardboard cutouts of stupid over done movie tropes.'' **'' Thank you'' ** Garth said smiling. He released Solara and togehter built an empire of peace and prosperity.

<s>[INST] The villan has won - and is now preparing his defences for the prophesized hero that would stop him . Noone suspects that hero is actually the prinsess he kidnapped . [/INST] Garth Gatorade smiled at the trap before him. *No hero would ever suspect a trap at the boss level* He thought to himself in a gloating and overly confident matter. Once Zac Rocket, the chosen one of planet Elderidge has been slayed, Garth will finally have nothing to stand in his path as he prepared to conquer the galaxy and make beautiful Zorglings with his kidnapped bride to be, Princess Solara. It was such a brilliant plan that Garth decided to splurge in his self-confidence and unlock the back door of his spaceship for Zac. `` You did it wrong.'' Garth turned his massive crocodile head and squinted at Solara trapped in his cosmic crystal cube prison. **'' What did you say to me? `` ** He blurted out. `` The banana peel is three inches too close to the guard's walkway. In a few minutes, Zac will burst through the lair's door which the first dimwitted guard takes chase but he will trip on the peel as soon as he pulls out and shoots his gun causing the bullets to shatter the ceiling light above him. The sparks from the light will ignite the trail of gasoline and explode the tank of rocket fuel which would conveniently knock out the backup guards who would have arrived after hearing the shooting. The explosion will also send a spark on your cape causing you to dance around in a hilarious matter due to your fear of fire. in an attempt to put out your cape, you will start to stomp on it which would only cause you to trip and fall over the railing and into your own trap. Zac will then rescue me and you will be jailed for being the antagonist.'' Solara said casually. Garth Gatorade was unsure what to think of this, **'' Wait, you want to help me? `` ** `` It more of helping me by helping you.'' Garth moved the banana peel and sure enough Zac Rocket charged in. `` Do n't worry Princess Solara, I'll save you.'' He said with a wink, but his heroic gesture was spoiled as he slipped on the peel and slid directly into the pit of space-sharks. Garth could only gasp as Zac's screams echo through the lair. **'' You..... you..... made me kill him'' ** He muttered. `` It was the best choice available'' Solara stated, `` Your rivalry with Zac Rocket will only cause further countless deaths and stupid direct to DvD sequels. I removed the root of the problem and now the universe is safe.'' **'' But why Zac, why not me? `` ** Garth asked. `` Because if the hero triumphs, there will always be villains to rise up and challenge them, there will always been worlds destroyed, civilians dead, and princesses to be robbed from their homes.'' She explained, `` You have won, you can rule the universe. No longer do you need to build traps, conduct monologues, be comically vile and heartless, or kidnapped me any more. Now that the protagonist is dead, we can all be free, free to make our own choices, free to live our own lives, no longer must we be cardboard cutouts of stupid over done movie tropes.'' **'' Thank you'' ** Garth said smiling. He released Solara and togehter built an empire of peace and prosperity. </s>

[ WP ] Passionate Pleas Please

Fucking fuck I need a girlfriend. Jesus. I do n't even want to get laid anymore, I just need someone to hug when I'm having a shitty day. But they ca n't be retarded or horrible, but I'll try it out if you know someone because fuck, my arms want to get grabbed and pulled and my body wants to follow as I'm swept into a situation that is n't anything like what my life is right now. I want my brain to produce chemicals at an alarming rate without having to take a pill or exert myself to Olympic fucking levels. I need to show someone my love with well-intentioned insults about their ineptitudes with XBox controllers, or jokes about the fundamentals their gender execute so well on the basketball court because dunking is just not a possibility with all that estrogen pumping through those veins as they exist like tunnels below soft skin that begs to be coated with goosebumps by fingers gently pulled across the napes of necks or diagonally from waist to rib to waist again. I want punches to the shoulder, then sweet kisses and smiles and the shared vision of a positive and secure future, but I'll take whatever I can get because the bad in life is getting worse and I've got no one to smile with. I do n't know. I want a reason to clean my apartment and my car, and to replace the paper plates and plastic cups with glass things from stores that men only shop at when they're accompanied by women or prompted by anniversarys or birthdays. Those days spent in my head imagining happiness for two have been replaced with standards far lower than I'm willing to admit because the lonliness of my apartment and cat ( sorry Checkers ) is making me fucking ill and not ill in the cool Beastie Boys way. Like, sick as hell. So those days with a brunette with glasses over a blurred face? The one who's creative beyond what I can fathom and whose wit and art and drive drives minds to mine deeper and deeper until they're so rich with gold they retire their single life for good? She's been replaced. And her understudy's just one big, undefinable blur with a voice like the teacher from Charlie Brown and our conversations are Chat Roulettes with less class about nothing specific. I'm scared. And I'm not getting younger. And it sucks. I've got music, and movies and shows and I just know there's someone who wants to listen and see, and who wants to do it with me. But I do n't know who that could be because I'm living in a landfill without the park on top. I'm surrounded by zeroes and broken hoes and YOLOs and the more I go through the motions the more I find that no man's an island yet I'm surrounded by oceans of dead fish and salty fishermen and other things I ca n't do anything with except smell and be annoyed at the stinky stench they all produce as I thousand-yard-stare through this bullshit life I'm so tired of living. I have affection to give, and more. And someone out there wants it. Maybe they're in bumfuck Alabama or Lithuania but they're out there, looking, like me, for someone to give them everything I happen to have. But I ca n't fucking find them because I'm paralyzed by too many tries without successes, and brown eyes instead of blue and there's nothing I can do except sit in my apartment and wonder what the future holds and hope it is n't a reservation for one at a one star restaurant with shitty Yelp reviews and a sexy server that makes eye contact I ca n't look back at because I'm Jerry fucking Lewis but more clueless and clumsy and every girl's Dean Martin seems to be a man I never want to be in real life or pretend. Fucking fuck I need a girlfriend.

<s>[INST] Passionate Pleas Please [/INST] Fucking fuck I need a girlfriend. Jesus. I do n't even want to get laid anymore, I just need someone to hug when I'm having a shitty day. But they ca n't be retarded or horrible, but I'll try it out if you know someone because fuck, my arms want to get grabbed and pulled and my body wants to follow as I'm swept into a situation that is n't anything like what my life is right now. I want my brain to produce chemicals at an alarming rate without having to take a pill or exert myself to Olympic fucking levels. I need to show someone my love with well-intentioned insults about their ineptitudes with XBox controllers, or jokes about the fundamentals their gender execute so well on the basketball court because dunking is just not a possibility with all that estrogen pumping through those veins as they exist like tunnels below soft skin that begs to be coated with goosebumps by fingers gently pulled across the napes of necks or diagonally from waist to rib to waist again. I want punches to the shoulder, then sweet kisses and smiles and the shared vision of a positive and secure future, but I'll take whatever I can get because the bad in life is getting worse and I've got no one to smile with. I do n't know. I want a reason to clean my apartment and my car, and to replace the paper plates and plastic cups with glass things from stores that men only shop at when they're accompanied by women or prompted by anniversarys or birthdays. Those days spent in my head imagining happiness for two have been replaced with standards far lower than I'm willing to admit because the lonliness of my apartment and cat ( sorry Checkers ) is making me fucking ill and not ill in the cool Beastie Boys way. Like, sick as hell. So those days with a brunette with glasses over a blurred face? The one who's creative beyond what I can fathom and whose wit and art and drive drives minds to mine deeper and deeper until they're so rich with gold they retire their single life for good? She's been replaced. And her understudy's just one big, undefinable blur with a voice like the teacher from Charlie Brown and our conversations are Chat Roulettes with less class about nothing specific. I'm scared. And I'm not getting younger. And it sucks. I've got music, and movies and shows and I just know there's someone who wants to listen and see, and who wants to do it with me. But I do n't know who that could be because I'm living in a landfill without the park on top. I'm surrounded by zeroes and broken hoes and YOLOs and the more I go through the motions the more I find that no man's an island yet I'm surrounded by oceans of dead fish and salty fishermen and other things I ca n't do anything with except smell and be annoyed at the stinky stench they all produce as I thousand-yard-stare through this bullshit life I'm so tired of living. I have affection to give, and more. And someone out there wants it. Maybe they're in bumfuck Alabama or Lithuania but they're out there, looking, like me, for someone to give them everything I happen to have. But I ca n't fucking find them because I'm paralyzed by too many tries without successes, and brown eyes instead of blue and there's nothing I can do except sit in my apartment and wonder what the future holds and hope it is n't a reservation for one at a one star restaurant with shitty Yelp reviews and a sexy server that makes eye contact I ca n't look back at because I'm Jerry fucking Lewis but more clueless and clumsy and every girl's Dean Martin seems to be a man I never want to be in real life or pretend. Fucking fuck I need a girlfriend. </s>

[ IP ] Girl in the yellow raincoat

The private entered with a quick salute and Colonel Rosario returned the favor without looking up from his desk. `` Sit.'' The colonel said, waving to the chair across from him. `` Sir,'' The private barked, only putting his hand down, `` I'd prefer to stand.'' Rosario looked up at the private and frowned. He looked young, barely a hair on his chin. Still, there was a gleam in his eyes, a spark of determination. That was always useful. `` Suit yourself, private.'' The colonel picked up a file and flipped through. `` Private Wallace. Sergeant Harrison speaks highly of you, says you're one of the finest he's trained.'' The private kept his poker face and Rosario nods, continuing, `` Well, do n't think too much of this interview, Wallace. Whether I like you or not, you'll still be going to CT boot camp. Just a few questions, first.'' Colonel Rosario smiled, `` I wo n't make you swear on the Bible, but try to be truthful, would you?'' `` Sir! Of course, sir!'' Max volume seemed to be Wallace's default. No surprise considering he came from Harrison's camp. That would need to be ironed out. `` What's your family like, private?'' `` Uh, excuse me, sir?'' Rosario chuckled, `` Your family, Wallace! You have one, right?'' `` Yes, sir.'' Wallace nodded, `` Just me and my mother, sir.'' `` No father?'' `` I've never known him, no sir.'' Not that Rosario did n't know that already. Still it was good to hear it from the boy's mouth. `` Ever voted before, private?'' Wallace kept his compsure this time. `` No, sir.'' `` Never, huh? Too stupid to understand or too stupid to care?'' The private flushed with embarassment. `` Neither, sir, I've just... I...'' `` Fair enough, Wallace. I suppose that was a bit harsh.'' Rosario gave a light laugh and Wallace smiled weakly back. `` We'll move onto the next question. Should be straightforward. Ever had any experience dealing with terrorists?'' Wallace paused, wondering if he was going to stumble into a trick question. `` No, sir. Not directly. But that's why I wanted to join this unit, sir. Bring the fight to them, sir.'' `` What do you think of them then? The terrorists, that is.'' `` They're cowards, sir. Nothing more than criminals gone insane.'' Rosario nodded. `` Well, that's a strong attitude to take, Wallace. Can you think of anything redeeming about them?'' The private blinked, his lips pressed tight. `` You called them cowards, Wallace.'' The colonel smiled grimly, `` There's a truth to that, but at the same time, they have a resolve that most do n't understand. The resolve to die.'' Rosario stared at Wallace, `` I wo n't ask you to throw away your life. But when the time comes, when you face someone prepared to die, do n't hesitate. Oblige them.'' ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A dozen voices shouted commands, but one came clearest, `` Put your hands in the air and turn slowly! Do it!'' The girl complied, her hands coming apart, a grenade in one hand and the pin in the other. But that was n't what Wallace was watching. He saw her eyes instead. There was terror. She did n't want to die, anyone could see that. More than that, though, was despair. There was no coming back from this. She *knew* she was going to die. There was even more shouting, but Wallace did n't hear. Wallace squeezed the trigger.

<s>[INST] [ IP ] Girl in the yellow raincoat [/INST] The private entered with a quick salute and Colonel Rosario returned the favor without looking up from his desk. `` Sit.'' The colonel said, waving to the chair across from him. `` Sir,'' The private barked, only putting his hand down, `` I'd prefer to stand.'' Rosario looked up at the private and frowned. He looked young, barely a hair on his chin. Still, there was a gleam in his eyes, a spark of determination. That was always useful. `` Suit yourself, private.'' The colonel picked up a file and flipped through. `` Private Wallace. Sergeant Harrison speaks highly of you, says you're one of the finest he's trained.'' The private kept his poker face and Rosario nods, continuing, `` Well, do n't think too much of this interview, Wallace. Whether I like you or not, you'll still be going to CT boot camp. Just a few questions, first.'' Colonel Rosario smiled, `` I wo n't make you swear on the Bible, but try to be truthful, would you?'' `` Sir! Of course, sir!'' Max volume seemed to be Wallace's default. No surprise considering he came from Harrison's camp. That would need to be ironed out. `` What's your family like, private?'' `` Uh, excuse me, sir?'' Rosario chuckled, `` Your family, Wallace! You have one, right?'' `` Yes, sir.'' Wallace nodded, `` Just me and my mother, sir.'' `` No father?'' `` I've never known him, no sir.'' Not that Rosario did n't know that already. Still it was good to hear it from the boy's mouth. `` Ever voted before, private?'' Wallace kept his compsure this time. `` No, sir.'' `` Never, huh? Too stupid to understand or too stupid to care?'' The private flushed with embarassment. `` Neither, sir, I've just... I...'' `` Fair enough, Wallace. I suppose that was a bit harsh.'' Rosario gave a light laugh and Wallace smiled weakly back. `` We'll move onto the next question. Should be straightforward. Ever had any experience dealing with terrorists?'' Wallace paused, wondering if he was going to stumble into a trick question. `` No, sir. Not directly. But that's why I wanted to join this unit, sir. Bring the fight to them, sir.'' `` What do you think of them then? The terrorists, that is.'' `` They're cowards, sir. Nothing more than criminals gone insane.'' Rosario nodded. `` Well, that's a strong attitude to take, Wallace. Can you think of anything redeeming about them?'' The private blinked, his lips pressed tight. `` You called them cowards, Wallace.'' The colonel smiled grimly, `` There's a truth to that, but at the same time, they have a resolve that most do n't understand. The resolve to die.'' Rosario stared at Wallace, `` I wo n't ask you to throw away your life. But when the time comes, when you face someone prepared to die, do n't hesitate. Oblige them.'' ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A dozen voices shouted commands, but one came clearest, `` Put your hands in the air and turn slowly! Do it!'' The girl complied, her hands coming apart, a grenade in one hand and the pin in the other. But that was n't what Wallace was watching. He saw her eyes instead. There was terror. She did n't want to die, anyone could see that. More than that, though, was despair. There was no coming back from this. She *knew* she was going to die. There was even more shouting, but Wallace did n't hear. Wallace squeezed the trigger. </s>

[ WP ] The Devil , rather than making you suffer for the sins you 've committed , instead forces you to live your life again , with a permanent companion : the Personification of your Sins .

Dear Diary, I sigh and look around this pigsty of a room and an all too familiar thought crosses my mind, I was n't bad enough to deserve this... I mean, yea it's better than that lake of fire I saw while I was down there but the Devil must have been having a bout of inspiration when he decided on my punishment. Hell truly is other people it seems and my new twin Mick is my own personal hell. Let me back up a moment. I have decided to being keeping this diary to try and maintain what little sanity I have left so let's start with the beginning, ny name is Nick and I'm 7 years old. Well, 7 in this retelling of my life. You see I died 7 years ago and found my soul hellbound for my sins in life. I was n't a horrible person, in fact I did n't even really think I bothered much of anyone while I was alive which is why I rejected it when I was sent to hell. It was Sloth that did me in if you're wondering. No grand sin to damn me, just a million tiny greivances gained over a lifetime that added up to a one way ticket down below ( Well two way in my case... kinda ). In retrospect I kind of get it. I never recycled, bothered to call to cancel appointments, I would drive the speed limit in the passing lane and procrastinated like I was getting paid for it. Hell, even putting my story to page now I ca n't be bothered to fix any of the typos or grammatical mistaked that might pop up ( SOrry grammar nazis ). Although I would say for a 7 year old I'm doing allright. Anyways back to Mick, my `` new'' twin, or more accurately the embodiment of **MY** slothful nature. You see, I did n't accept that I belonged in hell for my petty crimes. I could n't imagine my tiny thoughtless slights of people over the years could possibly add up to an eternity of hellfire but ho-LY **FUCK** was I wrong! It's only been about a year since my mind has resurfaced from that pre-child sludge from which we all must crawl and I'm already considering killing one of us. This fucker... Mick... he's just so... UGH I do n't even have words for how insufferable he is. The little monster manages to shit all over the toilet seat and leave it for someone else to clean up and the task has now fallen to me because my parents ca n't tell us apart so I've got 50-50 odds for catching an ass whopping on his behalf if I do n't clean up after him. And it's only been getting worse. He eats everything, he never puts anything away, and he copies over my save files on the ~~n~~ Nintendo. He even steals my friends instead of going out and making his own. It's like I spend every waking hour of my life cleaning up after this little monster and for what? Supposedly if I can drag this freak through life with grace and dignity I can absolve my sins and go to heaven but there's one little hangup in that it was Lucifer who made this promise. Yea, prince of lies and all that. Ugh and knowing how things are going now I am NOT looking forward to puberty... cleaning up his... ugh... I know I'll never escape him and seeing how successful this torture is I'm sure a suicide will only warrant a reset of this hell. Give me strength diary, I'm going to go and eat the easter egg I stashed under my mattress. So help me god it had better still be there.

<s>[INST] The Devil , rather than making you suffer for the sins you 've committed , instead forces you to live your life again , with a permanent companion : the Personification of your Sins . [/INST] Dear Diary, I sigh and look around this pigsty of a room and an all too familiar thought crosses my mind, I was n't bad enough to deserve this... I mean, yea it's better than that lake of fire I saw while I was down there but the Devil must have been having a bout of inspiration when he decided on my punishment. Hell truly is other people it seems and my new twin Mick is my own personal hell. Let me back up a moment. I have decided to being keeping this diary to try and maintain what little sanity I have left so let's start with the beginning, ny name is Nick and I'm 7 years old. Well, 7 in this retelling of my life. You see I died 7 years ago and found my soul hellbound for my sins in life. I was n't a horrible person, in fact I did n't even really think I bothered much of anyone while I was alive which is why I rejected it when I was sent to hell. It was Sloth that did me in if you're wondering. No grand sin to damn me, just a million tiny greivances gained over a lifetime that added up to a one way ticket down below ( Well two way in my case... kinda ). In retrospect I kind of get it. I never recycled, bothered to call to cancel appointments, I would drive the speed limit in the passing lane and procrastinated like I was getting paid for it. Hell, even putting my story to page now I ca n't be bothered to fix any of the typos or grammatical mistaked that might pop up ( SOrry grammar nazis ). Although I would say for a 7 year old I'm doing allright. Anyways back to Mick, my `` new'' twin, or more accurately the embodiment of **MY** slothful nature. You see, I did n't accept that I belonged in hell for my petty crimes. I could n't imagine my tiny thoughtless slights of people over the years could possibly add up to an eternity of hellfire but ho-LY **FUCK** was I wrong! It's only been about a year since my mind has resurfaced from that pre-child sludge from which we all must crawl and I'm already considering killing one of us. This fucker... Mick... he's just so... UGH I do n't even have words for how insufferable he is. The little monster manages to shit all over the toilet seat and leave it for someone else to clean up and the task has now fallen to me because my parents ca n't tell us apart so I've got 50-50 odds for catching an ass whopping on his behalf if I do n't clean up after him. And it's only been getting worse. He eats everything, he never puts anything away, and he copies over my save files on the ~~n~~ Nintendo. He even steals my friends instead of going out and making his own. It's like I spend every waking hour of my life cleaning up after this little monster and for what? Supposedly if I can drag this freak through life with grace and dignity I can absolve my sins and go to heaven but there's one little hangup in that it was Lucifer who made this promise. Yea, prince of lies and all that. Ugh and knowing how things are going now I am NOT looking forward to puberty... cleaning up his... ugh... I know I'll never escape him and seeing how successful this torture is I'm sure a suicide will only warrant a reset of this hell. Give me strength diary, I'm going to go and eat the easter egg I stashed under my mattress. So help me god it had better still be there. </s>

[ WP ] You keep a journal of your days every so often . One day you die and are revived at your last journal entry .

June 1998. I'm sitting in the bed, with her at my side, eating popcorn in bed while watching The Empire Strikes back. But, really, in June, we were watching Return of The Jedi. I just wrote it down wrong. It was 1999 when I died. And I found myself back... here. And now here I am. She is supper nice, just the way I described her, but not the way I truly remember her. She is hyperactive, never subdued. She never argues with me, like all those times I did n't write about. Her hair is jet black, not the musty of before. I guess maybe I was worried about her finding the diary. She was always describing herself as jet black online. I'd already checked the DVD case. It is full of the Disney movies that I wrote about, and not the works of David Lynch that she had really liked. I curl up into her arms, crying. She does n't know what's wrong, she's kind unlike the aggressive of before. She's understanding, even though she does n't know why. Maybe she wo n't kill me this time.

<s>[INST] You keep a journal of your days every so often . One day you die and are revived at your last journal entry . [/INST] June 1998. I'm sitting in the bed, with her at my side, eating popcorn in bed while watching The Empire Strikes back. But, really, in June, we were watching Return of The Jedi. I just wrote it down wrong. It was 1999 when I died. And I found myself back... here. And now here I am. She is supper nice, just the way I described her, but not the way I truly remember her. She is hyperactive, never subdued. She never argues with me, like all those times I did n't write about. Her hair is jet black, not the musty of before. I guess maybe I was worried about her finding the diary. She was always describing herself as jet black online. I'd already checked the DVD case. It is full of the Disney movies that I wrote about, and not the works of David Lynch that she had really liked. I curl up into her arms, crying. She does n't know what's wrong, she's kind unlike the aggressive of before. She's understanding, even though she does n't know why. Maybe she wo n't kill me this time. </s>

[ WP ] Bob does n't realise he 's a robot until he fails a captcha five times in a row .

Bob sat down at his desk at exactly 8:30 AM, as he did every morning. He situated the few materials left scattered about his desk from last night ’ s hard work until he got them perfectly organized, as he did every morning. His job was mundane and basically one repetitive task after the other until the clock slowly ticked away up to 5 PM. He turned his computer on at precisely 8:35, as he did every morning, knowing it would be fully booted and ready for use at 8:37, as it was every morning. The computers his company used were old and obsolete, he thought bemusedly. No hope for any more advanced computers than this, his mind added. Once the computer was fully loaded, Bob set about his everyday tasks. He would examine expense reports and create reports based on those examinations. Travel to and from off-site facilities were approved, visits to that nice restaurant one town over on your lunch break were not. Bob, very focused on the task at hand, rigorously scrutinized every entry from every request he was given. He liked being the one to catch the smallest details, nothing would escape his impeccable eye. That is until he reached an entry, which had no address or details included. Great, he thought, now I have to research this place online and see if it ’ s an acceptable expenditure. He quickly pulled up the website for the company in question, however to gain more information he needed to sign up and register for the website. What kind of company doesn ’ t allow the general public to see its contact information? He thought to himself. He sat and stared at the screen for a moment, as he would any time he was faced with a light conundrum, but quickly found himself unable to just leave the site, as he was compelled to complete this report given to him. He needed to know more about this company and this was the only way. He quickly made a username and password, and proceeded to the next screen, bringing him to a captcha verification page. The page read, to ensure you ’ re a human please enter the code given in the image. Easy, Bob thought as the computer slowly loaded the image of a house, the frame pulled up to a gold plated address indicator on the front door of the home. His eyes squinted at the numbers, and he couldn ’ t understand why he had trouble reading these numbers. “ 5…no 8..5..3..no that ’ s not a 3..its a..um… ” Bob felt confused. He decided it best to not overthink this, must just be tired, he had been working a lot, so he just entered the first 4 numbers he believed he saw. The page reloaded itself, again asking him to verify he is human with a captcha image on the screen. Okay, he thought, that last image was just low quality, I ’ ll just get it this time. A picture of a word lightly distorted by static appeared. He couldn ’ t understand what this word might be. Bob started growing frustrated. He quickly typed out the word as best as he could make it out but again the page reloaded. This time showing him another image. Bob started to feel hot and perspire, as he tried again and again to input the information given him on the captcha screen to no avail. He could not process that his powers of detail and scrutiny might be failing him, Bob felt really hot now, like he was overheating. The words just kept flashing through his mind. Verify you ’ re human… verify you ’ re human… verify you ’ re human…until sparks began to emit from him. “ Am I…am…I…I ’ m…not….hu-human? ” IT came to collect Bob when his sensors showed signs of overheating. He could hear them over him, see them scratching their heads, unsure of how to assist. “ Well on this kind of budget we couldn ’ t hope for any more advanced AI than this ” he heard one say, the other nodding in ascent added “ Guess it was just time to upgrade ” Bob felt the hand on his back jimmy open a small compartment, the hand lingered on a small button as he heard his final words “ At least this one lasted longer. ”

<s>[INST] Bob does n't realise he 's a robot until he fails a captcha five times in a row . [/INST] Bob sat down at his desk at exactly 8:30 AM, as he did every morning. He situated the few materials left scattered about his desk from last night ’ s hard work until he got them perfectly organized, as he did every morning. His job was mundane and basically one repetitive task after the other until the clock slowly ticked away up to 5 PM. He turned his computer on at precisely 8:35, as he did every morning, knowing it would be fully booted and ready for use at 8:37, as it was every morning. The computers his company used were old and obsolete, he thought bemusedly. No hope for any more advanced computers than this, his mind added. Once the computer was fully loaded, Bob set about his everyday tasks. He would examine expense reports and create reports based on those examinations. Travel to and from off-site facilities were approved, visits to that nice restaurant one town over on your lunch break were not. Bob, very focused on the task at hand, rigorously scrutinized every entry from every request he was given. He liked being the one to catch the smallest details, nothing would escape his impeccable eye. That is until he reached an entry, which had no address or details included. Great, he thought, now I have to research this place online and see if it ’ s an acceptable expenditure. He quickly pulled up the website for the company in question, however to gain more information he needed to sign up and register for the website. What kind of company doesn ’ t allow the general public to see its contact information? He thought to himself. He sat and stared at the screen for a moment, as he would any time he was faced with a light conundrum, but quickly found himself unable to just leave the site, as he was compelled to complete this report given to him. He needed to know more about this company and this was the only way. He quickly made a username and password, and proceeded to the next screen, bringing him to a captcha verification page. The page read, to ensure you ’ re a human please enter the code given in the image. Easy, Bob thought as the computer slowly loaded the image of a house, the frame pulled up to a gold plated address indicator on the front door of the home. His eyes squinted at the numbers, and he couldn ’ t understand why he had trouble reading these numbers. “ 5…no 8..5..3..no that ’ s not a 3..its a..um… ” Bob felt confused. He decided it best to not overthink this, must just be tired, he had been working a lot, so he just entered the first 4 numbers he believed he saw. The page reloaded itself, again asking him to verify he is human with a captcha image on the screen. Okay, he thought, that last image was just low quality, I ’ ll just get it this time. A picture of a word lightly distorted by static appeared. He couldn ’ t understand what this word might be. Bob started growing frustrated. He quickly typed out the word as best as he could make it out but again the page reloaded. This time showing him another image. Bob started to feel hot and perspire, as he tried again and again to input the information given him on the captcha screen to no avail. He could not process that his powers of detail and scrutiny might be failing him, Bob felt really hot now, like he was overheating. The words just kept flashing through his mind. Verify you ’ re human… verify you ’ re human… verify you ’ re human…until sparks began to emit from him. “ Am I…am…I…I ’ m…not….hu-human? ” IT came to collect Bob when his sensors showed signs of overheating. He could hear them over him, see them scratching their heads, unsure of how to assist. “ Well on this kind of budget we couldn ’ t hope for any more advanced AI than this ” he heard one say, the other nodding in ascent added “ Guess it was just time to upgrade ” Bob felt the hand on his back jimmy open a small compartment, the hand lingered on a small button as he heard his final words “ At least this one lasted longer. ” </s>

[ WP ] Every click you take on the Internet costs $ 0.01 as a new internet tax

I turned the key into the lock of my crummy, 20 sq foot apartment door. I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, I'd be lucky enough to die as soon as I open it. *clank* Nope, no such luck. Working a retail job is soul-crushing, and it does n't help that I work for a McDonalds/KFC/PizzaHut combo with a bunch of self serving kiosks where I'm the only human employee. It could be worse though, I could've been a truck driver last year just as Elon Musk's AutoBahn driverless cars were announced. That would've sucked. Whatever, I'm home now, time to heat up a frozen pizza in the oven and commence my nightly ritual. Maybe I'll just order Chinese tonight instead of making pizza? Lem me check my bank statement. Thankfully I have the Chase App so it wo n't cost me anything. `` Balance: 0.15'' `` Fuck'' I say audibly. I thought I got paid today, but todays Thursday, not Friday. Whatever, frozen pizza is fine. I load up a gaming channel on youtube and carve up my frozen pizza. I actually remember when the internet was n't pay-per-click. I guess back in those days you had to pay for broadband separately though, cause it was n't government funded. I think that's how it was anyway, my dad took care of all that stuff. My $ 40 monthly click plan usually lasts though, so I guess it evens out, and it helps conserve bandwidth space by forcing websites to host less pages. Still though, I remember surfing on my PSP when I was 10 or 11, trying to find `` boobies'' on yahoo, my prolific monkey spanking career would've cost me at least a good grand or two before I even entered high school if I paid for all those clicks. Which reminds me, it's time for that part of the night. I guess I'll load up the videos section on bing and grab the cocoa butter. `` WARNING: CLICKBANK IS EMPTY, FURTHER WEB CLICKS WILL RESULT IN A DIRECT DEBIT FROM BANK ACCOUNT'' Shit. I need to do this in 15 clicks or less. I hate life. No problem, I can do this. As long as I have the app open on my phone, I can keep track without going over. This is gon na be just fine. Unless of course, I go over and incur a $ 50 overdraft fee. Than this meat-beat would cost me 50 dollars, and that's just not right. I can probably just get off with one video, right? Yeah, one video is fine! People used to use DVDs and stuff, or magazines, I'll just bing search one video, boom, Midget Polyamory Island 5, a classic, and done. I wo n't click anything else. This is fine, I have 13 cents left and I'm, I'm not getting hard. No, this is trash. I need more. Well maybe I'll just, I know! I'll search up Asa Akira. She gets me off in like, a minute. Alright, into the search engine you go, Asa Akira Anal Asian Aqua Academy loaded up, and with 11 cents to spare. This is pretty sweet. `` SKYPE CALL: MOM'' What??!? `` SKYPE CALL: MOM'' Shit shit shit, it's her fucking birthday and I forgot! I ca n't let her see me like this, I'll just click decline and call her after this. `` WARNING: BALANCE IS NOW 0 DOLLARS and 10 CENTS'' What the fuck that counted as a click? Alright, compose yourself, return to the video, and finish the job. You know all that stress kinda made me lose interest. Shit. I wonder what Angela from high school is up to these days. Maybe a quick Facebook search... right..Puerto Rico vacation album... there we go. Alright, I'm digging this. `` WARNING: BALANCE IS NOW 0 DOLLARS AND 5 CENTS'' Shit, FUCK, I got ta make this picture work, alright, alright. Stay calm. Maybe if I have the picture and the video playing at the same time. Ok, sweet. This is actually going pretty well. Asa's about to finish, and so am FUCK, I got a pop-up, really? Oh Christ, it's one of those infinite dialogue pop-ups. Just hit `` prevent this page from creating additional dialogs'', ok. Back to the goods and I am `` SKYPE CALL: MOM'' Decline! `` WARNING: BALANCE IS 0 DOLLARS AND 0 CENTS'' Shit, does n't matter though, I'm just about to be.. Done! WHEW, that was a fucking ride. Now to just close out these tabs and `` You have just liked Angelas picture'' FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. That was from 3 years ago! `` WARNING: ACCOUNT IS NOW OVERDRAFT. YOU WILL BE CHARGED A 50 DOLLAR FEE AS WELL AS ADDITIONAL PROCESSING FEES'' I was... so close.... `` SKYPE CALL: MOM'' `` SKYPE CALL: MOM'' `` SKYPE CALL: MOM''

<s>[INST] Every click you take on the Internet costs $ 0.01 as a new internet tax [/INST] I turned the key into the lock of my crummy, 20 sq foot apartment door. I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, I'd be lucky enough to die as soon as I open it. *clank* Nope, no such luck. Working a retail job is soul-crushing, and it does n't help that I work for a McDonalds/KFC/PizzaHut combo with a bunch of self serving kiosks where I'm the only human employee. It could be worse though, I could've been a truck driver last year just as Elon Musk's AutoBahn driverless cars were announced. That would've sucked. Whatever, I'm home now, time to heat up a frozen pizza in the oven and commence my nightly ritual. Maybe I'll just order Chinese tonight instead of making pizza? Lem me check my bank statement. Thankfully I have the Chase App so it wo n't cost me anything. `` Balance: 0.15'' `` Fuck'' I say audibly. I thought I got paid today, but todays Thursday, not Friday. Whatever, frozen pizza is fine. I load up a gaming channel on youtube and carve up my frozen pizza. I actually remember when the internet was n't pay-per-click. I guess back in those days you had to pay for broadband separately though, cause it was n't government funded. I think that's how it was anyway, my dad took care of all that stuff. My $ 40 monthly click plan usually lasts though, so I guess it evens out, and it helps conserve bandwidth space by forcing websites to host less pages. Still though, I remember surfing on my PSP when I was 10 or 11, trying to find `` boobies'' on yahoo, my prolific monkey spanking career would've cost me at least a good grand or two before I even entered high school if I paid for all those clicks. Which reminds me, it's time for that part of the night. I guess I'll load up the videos section on bing and grab the cocoa butter. `` WARNING: CLICKBANK IS EMPTY, FURTHER WEB CLICKS WILL RESULT IN A DIRECT DEBIT FROM BANK ACCOUNT'' Shit. I need to do this in 15 clicks or less. I hate life. No problem, I can do this. As long as I have the app open on my phone, I can keep track without going over. This is gon na be just fine. Unless of course, I go over and incur a $ 50 overdraft fee. Than this meat-beat would cost me 50 dollars, and that's just not right. I can probably just get off with one video, right? Yeah, one video is fine! People used to use DVDs and stuff, or magazines, I'll just bing search one video, boom, Midget Polyamory Island 5, a classic, and done. I wo n't click anything else. This is fine, I have 13 cents left and I'm, I'm not getting hard. No, this is trash. I need more. Well maybe I'll just, I know! I'll search up Asa Akira. She gets me off in like, a minute. Alright, into the search engine you go, Asa Akira Anal Asian Aqua Academy loaded up, and with 11 cents to spare. This is pretty sweet. `` SKYPE CALL: MOM'' What??!? `` SKYPE CALL: MOM'' Shit shit shit, it's her fucking birthday and I forgot! I ca n't let her see me like this, I'll just click decline and call her after this. `` WARNING: BALANCE IS NOW 0 DOLLARS and 10 CENTS'' What the fuck that counted as a click? Alright, compose yourself, return to the video, and finish the job. You know all that stress kinda made me lose interest. Shit. I wonder what Angela from high school is up to these days. Maybe a quick Facebook search... right..Puerto Rico vacation album... there we go. Alright, I'm digging this. `` WARNING: BALANCE IS NOW 0 DOLLARS AND 5 CENTS'' Shit, FUCK, I got ta make this picture work, alright, alright. Stay calm. Maybe if I have the picture and the video playing at the same time. Ok, sweet. This is actually going pretty well. Asa's about to finish, and so am FUCK, I got a pop-up, really? Oh Christ, it's one of those infinite dialogue pop-ups. Just hit `` prevent this page from creating additional dialogs'', ok. Back to the goods and I am `` SKYPE CALL: MOM'' Decline! `` WARNING: BALANCE IS 0 DOLLARS AND 0 CENTS'' Shit, does n't matter though, I'm just about to be.. Done! WHEW, that was a fucking ride. Now to just close out these tabs and `` You have just liked Angelas picture'' FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. That was from 3 years ago! `` WARNING: ACCOUNT IS NOW OVERDRAFT. YOU WILL BE CHARGED A 50 DOLLAR FEE AS WELL AS ADDITIONAL PROCESSING FEES'' I was... so close.... `` SKYPE CALL: MOM'' `` SKYPE CALL: MOM'' `` SKYPE CALL: MOM'' </s>

[ WP ] You wake up in the middle of the night and looked at the time , the time was broken and read 6:66 . You checked other clocks , all of the time read 6:66 .

Luke ran around the house frantically trying to lock all the doors. Every time he successfully managed to lock one door, the other one would re-open. His terror was growing as all the alarms in the house were going off at their highest volume, reading the letters: 666, even after he unplugged them. Tears streamed from his eyes as each door he ran away from burst open like a violent wind was pushing into the house. As Luke collapsed in the middle of his living room floor, all the doors in the house opened and slammed shut back and forth while the stereo system played at full volume and the two televisions in the house launched wildly through channels. Luke felt himself breaking down when his car alarm started off. `` Hahaha- look at that stupid human!'' cackled Xijul Nom as he fiddled with the controls inside his flying saucer five hundred feet above Luke's house. `` Haaahahaha! I think he's going to have an aneurism!'' laughed his companion, Dursim Zol. They cracked open another two beers and switched on the hallucinagenic drug dispensers in Luke's house. `` You think he'll see demons this time?''

<s>[INST] You wake up in the middle of the night and looked at the time , the time was broken and read 6:66 . You checked other clocks , all of the time read 6:66 . [/INST] Luke ran around the house frantically trying to lock all the doors. Every time he successfully managed to lock one door, the other one would re-open. His terror was growing as all the alarms in the house were going off at their highest volume, reading the letters: 666, even after he unplugged them. Tears streamed from his eyes as each door he ran away from burst open like a violent wind was pushing into the house. As Luke collapsed in the middle of his living room floor, all the doors in the house opened and slammed shut back and forth while the stereo system played at full volume and the two televisions in the house launched wildly through channels. Luke felt himself breaking down when his car alarm started off. `` Hahaha- look at that stupid human!'' cackled Xijul Nom as he fiddled with the controls inside his flying saucer five hundred feet above Luke's house. `` Haaahahaha! I think he's going to have an aneurism!'' laughed his companion, Dursim Zol. They cracked open another two beers and switched on the hallucinagenic drug dispensers in Luke's house. `` You think he'll see demons this time?'' </s>

[ WP ] `` Rise and shine ! '' booms a loud voice . You open your eyes and find yourself deep in a dark forest . Hundreds of other people lie around you and they 're all starting to wake up..

You look around, trying to focus on the sea of people around you. What happened last night? You try to remember but the last thing you remember is going to the party. What happened? Without warning, you spit a pool of blood onto the floor. You reach a finger into your mouth and realise that your tongue has been cut out. The pain starts rising and you try to cry out `` help!'' at the same time that you realise you are unable to speak. The hundreds of other people all around you start moaning and screaming in the same way, blood oozing from their mouths. A young woman grabs your leg, her eyes pleading for help. You shake her off with a shudder. The moaning starts getting louder, and you notice that people are starting to fall down, back down into the ground. Blood is everywhere now. You can smell the metal in the air. More people fall. You keep watching, unanle to look away, not knowing what will follow until every single person has fallen to the ground, leaving only you standing. Then you hear the voice again. `` YOU''

<s>[INST] `` Rise and shine ! '' booms a loud voice . You open your eyes and find yourself deep in a dark forest . Hundreds of other people lie around you and they 're all starting to wake up.. [/INST] You look around, trying to focus on the sea of people around you. What happened last night? You try to remember but the last thing you remember is going to the party. What happened? Without warning, you spit a pool of blood onto the floor. You reach a finger into your mouth and realise that your tongue has been cut out. The pain starts rising and you try to cry out `` help!'' at the same time that you realise you are unable to speak. The hundreds of other people all around you start moaning and screaming in the same way, blood oozing from their mouths. A young woman grabs your leg, her eyes pleading for help. You shake her off with a shudder. The moaning starts getting louder, and you notice that people are starting to fall down, back down into the ground. Blood is everywhere now. You can smell the metal in the air. More people fall. You keep watching, unanle to look away, not knowing what will follow until every single person has fallen to the ground, leaving only you standing. Then you hear the voice again. `` YOU'' </s>

[ WP ] A shapeshifter with an identity crisis

`` No... That's not right. Definitely mom's eyes... dads ears.... but it just feels stitched together. This is n't me.'' `` Keep going you'll hit something you like.'' `` Its not about something I like, its about something that's real. The face that is mine and not anyone else's. I thought, I do n't know why, I thought I'd know it when it when I saw it. But its all just the same.'' `` You've been changing faces and everything else since before I was born. Never got you upset before. I know that its got be hard with mom... But still you're still you. You tormented me growing up with it. You did some real stupid shit in high school. But I know you under there.'' `` Yeah, that's easy for you to say. In a year mom'll recognize you, maybe not all the time, but there's something to latch onto. But me? There is n't any face I can walk in with and have it be mine! Figure and height I do n't have any conceivable clue to what mine *really* is. Hair color, eye color, I can make some guesses at from the rest of the family, but even then! *Even then! * I thought if I really tried to *feel* for it once, that something would snap into place. Natural. But its all the fucking same. Brunette is n't better than Red. Hourglass figure is n't better than pear shaped. And if I can traverse from Subsaharan Africa, to Asia, to the Mediterranean, to fucking Hitler's wet dream Aryan in skin tone, and none of that feels anything, then where do I start?'' `` You know, we made peace with this shit a long time ago. I stopped being angry and jealous, and you stopped being just a horrendous bitch. Okay? So I get it you're overloaded. I'm stressed out and scared too. But you're not making it easy to comfort you right now. Mom's still our mom! She's not that far gone yet. You want to be recognized, then stop trying find whatever shit you were meant to be. And just settle into something, and go with that. Go with that and maybe you can impress it enough that she'll hold on being able to remember you for a little longer. And if *maybe* she holds onto my face for a little longer than you, then I'm sorry, but just consider it payment in full for those funny little jokes of yours growing up. Cause I'm a little too stressed out myself to have to teach you how to handle getting the short end of the stick for the first time in your life.'' `` I'm... sorry. I'm not good at well anything. I have one skill and its strange enough that it got me through everything. I'm sorry.'' `` Yeah. Me too... You know I'm terrified that one day, you'll disappear, the unrecognizable dead. I wo n't be able to even identify the body. No one will alert me. After dad and now mom, its kind of a nightmare. So let's not do the same old fights over.'' `` You never know, maybe when I die, I'll die someplace super recognizable, and you'll know its me. Maybe then all this will fade, and you'll get to see the real me. Brother and sister meeting for the fist time at the funeral.... Well since you *are* the smart one, the one that learned from classes, and figured out life and shit. Since you managed to become all mature. What the hell are you supposed to do when you feel this scared?'' `` At this point what else is there to do, but just be yourself. However that happens to look today.''

<s>[INST] A shapeshifter with an identity crisis [/INST] `` No... That's not right. Definitely mom's eyes... dads ears.... but it just feels stitched together. This is n't me.'' `` Keep going you'll hit something you like.'' `` Its not about something I like, its about something that's real. The face that is mine and not anyone else's. I thought, I do n't know why, I thought I'd know it when it when I saw it. But its all just the same.'' `` You've been changing faces and everything else since before I was born. Never got you upset before. I know that its got be hard with mom... But still you're still you. You tormented me growing up with it. You did some real stupid shit in high school. But I know you under there.'' `` Yeah, that's easy for you to say. In a year mom'll recognize you, maybe not all the time, but there's something to latch onto. But me? There is n't any face I can walk in with and have it be mine! Figure and height I do n't have any conceivable clue to what mine *really* is. Hair color, eye color, I can make some guesses at from the rest of the family, but even then! *Even then! * I thought if I really tried to *feel* for it once, that something would snap into place. Natural. But its all the fucking same. Brunette is n't better than Red. Hourglass figure is n't better than pear shaped. And if I can traverse from Subsaharan Africa, to Asia, to the Mediterranean, to fucking Hitler's wet dream Aryan in skin tone, and none of that feels anything, then where do I start?'' `` You know, we made peace with this shit a long time ago. I stopped being angry and jealous, and you stopped being just a horrendous bitch. Okay? So I get it you're overloaded. I'm stressed out and scared too. But you're not making it easy to comfort you right now. Mom's still our mom! She's not that far gone yet. You want to be recognized, then stop trying find whatever shit you were meant to be. And just settle into something, and go with that. Go with that and maybe you can impress it enough that she'll hold on being able to remember you for a little longer. And if *maybe* she holds onto my face for a little longer than you, then I'm sorry, but just consider it payment in full for those funny little jokes of yours growing up. Cause I'm a little too stressed out myself to have to teach you how to handle getting the short end of the stick for the first time in your life.'' `` I'm... sorry. I'm not good at well anything. I have one skill and its strange enough that it got me through everything. I'm sorry.'' `` Yeah. Me too... You know I'm terrified that one day, you'll disappear, the unrecognizable dead. I wo n't be able to even identify the body. No one will alert me. After dad and now mom, its kind of a nightmare. So let's not do the same old fights over.'' `` You never know, maybe when I die, I'll die someplace super recognizable, and you'll know its me. Maybe then all this will fade, and you'll get to see the real me. Brother and sister meeting for the fist time at the funeral.... Well since you *are* the smart one, the one that learned from classes, and figured out life and shit. Since you managed to become all mature. What the hell are you supposed to do when you feel this scared?'' `` At this point what else is there to do, but just be yourself. However that happens to look today.'' </s>

[ WP ] Humanity has invented a teleportation portal . A man is sent through the machine , but comes out the other side screaming and writhing in agony ...

After hours of screaming and writhing on the floor of the Sarasam laboratory, Charles McSorley fell into a deep coma. He began awakening today. * `` Charlie, can you hear me? Its Laurie, your wife, can you hear me?'' His eyes were barely open, but it seemed clear he was regaining consciousness. After several hours he was awake and somewhat lucid, everyone wanted to ask him what happened when he teleported but was afraid to mention the incident. Everyone just talked about how happy they were that he was now awake, safe and sound. Everything seemed wrong to Charlie, however. Everyone looked wrong, everyone sounded wrong. When he finally realized he had been in a coma he asked `` How long was I out for?'' `` Well, Charlie, its been eight years.'' He could n't process it. `` I've been in coma for eight years? How is that possible, I look exactly the same.'' `` No, Charlie, you were gone for eight years. You came out of the teleporter last week. We do n't know where you have been.'' And then, Charlie remembered what he had experienced after the teleporter activated. He was calm at first. `` There... there was screaming. And there was everyone that ever lived. Everyone, and every thing. Aliens, demons, angels, anything that has died was there... without bodies...'' Charlie went silent. His breathing slowly increased and his gaze turned towards a thousand yard stare. He began mumbling incomprehensible sounds, then began screaming, louder and louder. It seemed like it would never end, then suddenly he screamed `` THEY ARE COMING, THEY ARE COMING NOW! ALL OF THEM, YOU CA N'T STOP THEM!'' * * * Confusion filled the room. Everyone looked at eachother without daring to say what they wanted to eachother. `` Who is coming?'' everyone said half silently, to themselves. Charlie was now unconscious again. Suddenly a gentle sway began in the floor, and the entire building began heaving...

<s>[INST] Humanity has invented a teleportation portal . A man is sent through the machine , but comes out the other side screaming and writhing in agony ... [/INST] After hours of screaming and writhing on the floor of the Sarasam laboratory, Charles McSorley fell into a deep coma. He began awakening today. * `` Charlie, can you hear me? Its Laurie, your wife, can you hear me?'' His eyes were barely open, but it seemed clear he was regaining consciousness. After several hours he was awake and somewhat lucid, everyone wanted to ask him what happened when he teleported but was afraid to mention the incident. Everyone just talked about how happy they were that he was now awake, safe and sound. Everything seemed wrong to Charlie, however. Everyone looked wrong, everyone sounded wrong. When he finally realized he had been in a coma he asked `` How long was I out for?'' `` Well, Charlie, its been eight years.'' He could n't process it. `` I've been in coma for eight years? How is that possible, I look exactly the same.'' `` No, Charlie, you were gone for eight years. You came out of the teleporter last week. We do n't know where you have been.'' And then, Charlie remembered what he had experienced after the teleporter activated. He was calm at first. `` There... there was screaming. And there was everyone that ever lived. Everyone, and every thing. Aliens, demons, angels, anything that has died was there... without bodies...'' Charlie went silent. His breathing slowly increased and his gaze turned towards a thousand yard stare. He began mumbling incomprehensible sounds, then began screaming, louder and louder. It seemed like it would never end, then suddenly he screamed `` THEY ARE COMING, THEY ARE COMING NOW! ALL OF THEM, YOU CA N'T STOP THEM!'' * * * Confusion filled the room. Everyone looked at eachother without daring to say what they wanted to eachother. `` Who is coming?'' everyone said half silently, to themselves. Charlie was now unconscious again. Suddenly a gentle sway began in the floor, and the entire building began heaving... </s>

[ WP ] A group of friends plays a game of `` would you rather . '' Unbeknownst to them , a malevolent genie has cursed their game so that each choice becomes reality .

**Girls Can be so Cruel** Julie: `` Stacy, Would you rather wear no make-up for a year or shave your head right now?'' Stacy: `` Hmm, I have pretty bad acne, and a shaved head might look hot on me, I'd rather shave my head. I got ta go use the restroom where is it again, Sara?'' Sara: `` Third Door on the left, lights switch will be on your right.'' Stacy: `` Thanks brb.'' Sara: `` Okay then, it's Stacy's turn when she gets back, hmm who to pick? Julie, Hanna, or Kate?'' Hanna: `` Oh, pick me! I want to try!'' Sara: `` Okay Hanna, would you rather run a marathon naked or wearing a bondage out-fit?'' Hanna: `` No fair, Does that even count? they're practically the same thing are n't they Julie, Kate?'' Sara: `` You two be quiet, she has to answer that's the game.'' Hanna: `` Ugh, I guess the bondage outfit. Just wait for your turn Sara. Those cover, you know,'everything' right? Sara: `` That depends, Hanna. hehehe.'' Hanna: `` Um, so its my turn right? Can I pick Sara right back?'' Julie: `` I think you should n't pick the person who picked you, everyone needs to get a turn.'' Hanna: `` Aww, I wanted to punish her.'' Julie: `` It's okay Hanna, Pick Kate, I've got a really good one special for Sara.'' Sara: `` Ooh, so scary Julie, I'm like so scared.'' Julie: `` You actually should be, Sara. It's a juicy one.'' Hanna: `` Okay Kate, would you rather jump off a bridge or give Randall a Kiss on the lips?'' Sara: `` That's so weak Hanna, you're too innocent.'' Hanna: `` Oh, um.. And date him for a year.'' Sara: `` Now we're talking.'' Julie: `` Sara that's totally cheating.'' Sara: `` is not.; )'' Julie: `` Is so. Psh, just answer Kate.'' Kate: `` Ew, Randall is so gross, but I really do n't wan na die. Is the bridge really high, Hanna?'' Hanna: `` Um, you'd totally die, maybe?'' Kate: `` Okay then I date Randall, Julie make sure Sara gets it.'' Julie: `` Yeah just go easy on me k?'' Kate: `` Deal. Julie, would you rather fall in love with and marry Hank, or Samuel?'' Sara: `` Now who's cheating Julie? They are both Hunks.'' Kate: `` Shut up, it's totally fair, Sara. Come on answer Julie.'' Julie: `` Yeah definitely Samuel he's so dreamy. So, are you ready for this Sara, you're gon na regret it.'' Sara: `` Yeah Bring it on it's just a silly game.'' Julie: `` Would you rather kill your whole family, or all your friends right now?'' Kate: `` That is so dark Julie.'' Julie: `` Yeah, but She deserves it.'' Hanna: `` OMG, Stacy what the hell?'' Stacy: `` I.. *Sob... * my hair... it was wrong I thought I'd *Cry... * fix it... I could n't stop cutting, what will Jeremy think, what about our date.'' *continues crying. * Sara: *gets a scissors off the cabinet* Sara: `` I think you have bigger things to worry about than your hair girls, Because I know my answer.'' The end. Edit: Added names before every line, to clarify who's talking, although mostly if you ca n't tell who's talking it does n't really matter which one says it so much as it get said. get it?

<s>[INST] A group of friends plays a game of `` would you rather . '' Unbeknownst to them , a malevolent genie has cursed their game so that each choice becomes reality . [/INST] **Girls Can be so Cruel** Julie: `` Stacy, Would you rather wear no make-up for a year or shave your head right now?'' Stacy: `` Hmm, I have pretty bad acne, and a shaved head might look hot on me, I'd rather shave my head. I got ta go use the restroom where is it again, Sara?'' Sara: `` Third Door on the left, lights switch will be on your right.'' Stacy: `` Thanks brb.'' Sara: `` Okay then, it's Stacy's turn when she gets back, hmm who to pick? Julie, Hanna, or Kate?'' Hanna: `` Oh, pick me! I want to try!'' Sara: `` Okay Hanna, would you rather run a marathon naked or wearing a bondage out-fit?'' Hanna: `` No fair, Does that even count? they're practically the same thing are n't they Julie, Kate?'' Sara: `` You two be quiet, she has to answer that's the game.'' Hanna: `` Ugh, I guess the bondage outfit. Just wait for your turn Sara. Those cover, you know,'everything' right? Sara: `` That depends, Hanna. hehehe.'' Hanna: `` Um, so its my turn right? Can I pick Sara right back?'' Julie: `` I think you should n't pick the person who picked you, everyone needs to get a turn.'' Hanna: `` Aww, I wanted to punish her.'' Julie: `` It's okay Hanna, Pick Kate, I've got a really good one special for Sara.'' Sara: `` Ooh, so scary Julie, I'm like so scared.'' Julie: `` You actually should be, Sara. It's a juicy one.'' Hanna: `` Okay Kate, would you rather jump off a bridge or give Randall a Kiss on the lips?'' Sara: `` That's so weak Hanna, you're too innocent.'' Hanna: `` Oh, um.. And date him for a year.'' Sara: `` Now we're talking.'' Julie: `` Sara that's totally cheating.'' Sara: `` is not.; )'' Julie: `` Is so. Psh, just answer Kate.'' Kate: `` Ew, Randall is so gross, but I really do n't wan na die. Is the bridge really high, Hanna?'' Hanna: `` Um, you'd totally die, maybe?'' Kate: `` Okay then I date Randall, Julie make sure Sara gets it.'' Julie: `` Yeah just go easy on me k?'' Kate: `` Deal. Julie, would you rather fall in love with and marry Hank, or Samuel?'' Sara: `` Now who's cheating Julie? They are both Hunks.'' Kate: `` Shut up, it's totally fair, Sara. Come on answer Julie.'' Julie: `` Yeah definitely Samuel he's so dreamy. So, are you ready for this Sara, you're gon na regret it.'' Sara: `` Yeah Bring it on it's just a silly game.'' Julie: `` Would you rather kill your whole family, or all your friends right now?'' Kate: `` That is so dark Julie.'' Julie: `` Yeah, but She deserves it.'' Hanna: `` OMG, Stacy what the hell?'' Stacy: `` I.. *Sob... * my hair... it was wrong I thought I'd *Cry... * fix it... I could n't stop cutting, what will Jeremy think, what about our date.'' *continues crying. * Sara: *gets a scissors off the cabinet* Sara: `` I think you have bigger things to worry about than your hair girls, Because I know my answer.'' The end. Edit: Added names before every line, to clarify who's talking, although mostly if you ca n't tell who's talking it does n't really matter which one says it so much as it get said. get it? </s>

[ WP ] The `` Schrödinger 's cat '' experiment is used as a torture device

Empty. This is what he awoke to. A room devoid of furniture. No sign of where he was. No memory prior to awakening. `` Where am I?'' faintly rose from his lips, as he examined the spotless floor. A white color that stung the eyes like the sun would. Now sitting up, he and took a quick survey of the room. Hoping that something, *anything*, would give him the slightest idea of where he was. `` Who am I?'' now more demanding, he arose to feet only to find what he found on the floor. Nothing. Feeling defeated he paced the room looking something. What it was, we will never know. *He* did n't even know himself what he was looking for, but was determined to find it. Every inch of the room was inspected hundreds of times over. Banging around to find a hollow spot, whoever put him there must have left some kind of secret door to escape. After what seemed liked hours he finally had enough, found himself a corner of the room that felt the most comfortable even though they were all identical, and sat down. That's when he saw it. *Dean. * A tiny note card bearing the name in pen written with an almost elegant hand as if someone spent time making sure every curve was as perfect as it could be. Dean. Was it his? Did it belong to the person who left him here? For a moment he thought what Dean could stand for, but later determined it was his name. After examining each letter critically, he flipped the card. *You are CAT # 9, * *In this room you do not require nourishment or rest. You will not age and you will not die for whatever the length is of your stay in this room. * *A door will appear shortly after this card is read. Be warned, the door will decide what your fate is. Life or Death. You will not know what your fate is until the door is open. When you cross the threshold of the door frame you will be free. * With a sudden groan that seemed to becoming from every direction, Dean felt helpless as the room began to slowly spin. The door that he was promised had n't appeared. The room began to pick up speed and he started to feel glued to the walls. What was this? Some sick joke? Fearing for his life or what he thought was his life, he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. The room came to an abrupt halt that almost launched him across the small white box. While slowly opening eyes he saw it. A door. Full sprint to it just to slowly touch the door handle. The door seemed heavy, as if the dark oak wood weighed a thousand pounds. `` This it. Life or Death. Maybe I'll know where I am if I live.'' He took a deep breath, he tried to take all the air in the room and return it as if it was n't good enough to even graze his nostrils. He gripped the handle, it felt foreign to hold it for some reason. Turning it, he grew anxious and quickly pulled to see what the universe had in store for him. He collapsed as tears fell down his face. He could n't bear to see what was in front of him. The doorway was layered with bricks and with white paint it read: *I lied. *

<s>[INST] The `` Schrödinger 's cat '' experiment is used as a torture device [/INST] Empty. This is what he awoke to. A room devoid of furniture. No sign of where he was. No memory prior to awakening. `` Where am I?'' faintly rose from his lips, as he examined the spotless floor. A white color that stung the eyes like the sun would. Now sitting up, he and took a quick survey of the room. Hoping that something, *anything*, would give him the slightest idea of where he was. `` Who am I?'' now more demanding, he arose to feet only to find what he found on the floor. Nothing. Feeling defeated he paced the room looking something. What it was, we will never know. *He* did n't even know himself what he was looking for, but was determined to find it. Every inch of the room was inspected hundreds of times over. Banging around to find a hollow spot, whoever put him there must have left some kind of secret door to escape. After what seemed liked hours he finally had enough, found himself a corner of the room that felt the most comfortable even though they were all identical, and sat down. That's when he saw it. *Dean. * A tiny note card bearing the name in pen written with an almost elegant hand as if someone spent time making sure every curve was as perfect as it could be. Dean. Was it his? Did it belong to the person who left him here? For a moment he thought what Dean could stand for, but later determined it was his name. After examining each letter critically, he flipped the card. *You are CAT # 9, * *In this room you do not require nourishment or rest. You will not age and you will not die for whatever the length is of your stay in this room. * *A door will appear shortly after this card is read. Be warned, the door will decide what your fate is. Life or Death. You will not know what your fate is until the door is open. When you cross the threshold of the door frame you will be free. * With a sudden groan that seemed to becoming from every direction, Dean felt helpless as the room began to slowly spin. The door that he was promised had n't appeared. The room began to pick up speed and he started to feel glued to the walls. What was this? Some sick joke? Fearing for his life or what he thought was his life, he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. The room came to an abrupt halt that almost launched him across the small white box. While slowly opening eyes he saw it. A door. Full sprint to it just to slowly touch the door handle. The door seemed heavy, as if the dark oak wood weighed a thousand pounds. `` This it. Life or Death. Maybe I'll know where I am if I live.'' He took a deep breath, he tried to take all the air in the room and return it as if it was n't good enough to even graze his nostrils. He gripped the handle, it felt foreign to hold it for some reason. Turning it, he grew anxious and quickly pulled to see what the universe had in store for him. He collapsed as tears fell down his face. He could n't bear to see what was in front of him. The doorway was layered with bricks and with white paint it read: *I lied. * </s>

[ WP ] The human race 's finale episode just aired . A bunch of fans critique the series as the credits roll .

`` I have to say I liked how they used the homeless,'crazy' people for foreshadowing. The entire time they have a sign or are telling people the world is going to end but no one listens to them. Even in some of the darker moments of the series I liked how they were used it to give us an idea oh how the show was going to end. The political satire was repetitive but well done. In the end humans need to have a dictator in charge to be able to run a nation effectively. The biggest problem was when they allowed for group decision. Initially it worked well but over time corruption destroyed the system and eventually a singular leader would rise and take control. What would make sense it to bread a class that would be the leader of men. This was attempted with kings and queens but it was n't until the understanding of genetics that they could really pull this off. Instead of trying to have people who are bred to be leaders they still tried to have a democratic system. As I said this was repetitive but they found new ways of trying democratic systems as well as how they collapse. Their humanity and compassion as well as lack of made for some of the greatest emotional episodes that we have seen or will see for quite some time. Some of them will to do whatever it took to stand above everyone while others were willing to give their lives in service to others. I can honestly say I cried during some of those episodes. While it did have its flaws,'Humans' was a great show to watch. I wish it was still going to be around but considering the premise of the show there was no way that they would be around for the next few million years. You did n't realize it in the beginning but as the show went on you realized that they could save themselves but they were destined to fall back into habits that would cause them to end themselves. Yes I would love to have watch them venture off to other planets and start to colonize their solar system. It would have been fun it would seem like the show was being forced to stay on the air and over time we would have lost interest in it and forgotten how great of a show it originally was. Final review: 4.5 out of 5 start''

<s>[INST] The human race 's finale episode just aired . A bunch of fans critique the series as the credits roll . [/INST] `` I have to say I liked how they used the homeless,'crazy' people for foreshadowing. The entire time they have a sign or are telling people the world is going to end but no one listens to them. Even in some of the darker moments of the series I liked how they were used it to give us an idea oh how the show was going to end. The political satire was repetitive but well done. In the end humans need to have a dictator in charge to be able to run a nation effectively. The biggest problem was when they allowed for group decision. Initially it worked well but over time corruption destroyed the system and eventually a singular leader would rise and take control. What would make sense it to bread a class that would be the leader of men. This was attempted with kings and queens but it was n't until the understanding of genetics that they could really pull this off. Instead of trying to have people who are bred to be leaders they still tried to have a democratic system. As I said this was repetitive but they found new ways of trying democratic systems as well as how they collapse. Their humanity and compassion as well as lack of made for some of the greatest emotional episodes that we have seen or will see for quite some time. Some of them will to do whatever it took to stand above everyone while others were willing to give their lives in service to others. I can honestly say I cried during some of those episodes. While it did have its flaws,'Humans' was a great show to watch. I wish it was still going to be around but considering the premise of the show there was no way that they would be around for the next few million years. You did n't realize it in the beginning but as the show went on you realized that they could save themselves but they were destined to fall back into habits that would cause them to end themselves. Yes I would love to have watch them venture off to other planets and start to colonize their solar system. It would have been fun it would seem like the show was being forced to stay on the air and over time we would have lost interest in it and forgotten how great of a show it originally was. Final review: 4.5 out of 5 start'' </s>