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[ { "from": "human", "value": "After defeating the Devil down in Georgia, Johnny proudly proclaims he's the best that's ever been. A flash of lightning crashes down and God appears, fiddle in hand. The Devil gets his popcorn ready." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Devil went down to Georgia \nWhere he got his red ass whupped \nJohnny was proud \nAnd he said out loud \n\"I'll never be one-upped!\" \n\nBut as that challenge echoed \nOut into the Georgia blue \nThe Lord jumped in \nWith his violin \nSaid, \"It's time for round two!\"\n\n\"You're getting mighty cocky,\" \nSaid the Lord, \"Now you're in trouble!\" \n\"That kind of pride, \n\"I won't abide! \n\"It's nothing or it's double!\"\n\nWell, Johnny tightened up his strings \nHe said \"Don't make me groan! \n\"I'll take the bet, \n\"But what I get \n\"Is a day upon your throne!\"\n\nThere came a flash of lightning \nAnd the Lord said \"You're all in! \n\"But if you lose, \n\"You'll take a cruise \n\"Into oblivion!\"\n\nJohnny, now you're in too deep; that fiddle better sing! \n'Cause now you're up against the guy who made everything! \nIf you win, you get a chance to rule both great and small \nBut if you lose, you won't exist at all...\n\nThe Lord rosined up his bow \nAnd said \"This will be quick! \n\"I know some things \n\"On Heaven's strings \n\"That ought to do the trick!\"\n\nWith a mighty flourish \nThe Lord began his line \nAnd his fiddle played \nA serenade \nThat was quite divine:\n\n \n\n♫ ♬ ♩ ♪ ♬ ♬ ♩ ♩♫ ♬ ♪ ♬ \n[ANGELIC MUSIC PLAYS] \n♫ ♬ ♩ ♪ ♬ ♬ ♩ ♩♫ ♬ ♪ ♬ \n\n \n\nWhen the Lord had finished \nJohnny only rolled his eyes \n\"If that's your best, \n\"Just take a rest, \n\"And witness your demise!\"\n\n \n\n♫ ♬ ♩ ♪ ♬ ♬ ♩ ♩♫ ♬ ♪ ♬ \nRationality that you can't resist! \nJehovah's in a fight with an atheist! \nAll of Heaven's angels start to grieve! \nYou can't beat a man who doesn't believe! \n♫ ♬ ♩ ♪ ♬ ♬ ♩ ♩♫ ♬ ♪ ♬ \n\n \n\nThe Lord, he raised an eyebrow, saying \"Johnny, you've been cheating! \n\"There's no sense smiting you, boy, if you can't feel the beating!\" \nJohnny said \"I'll tell you what, just save those declarations. \n\"I'm so high, I've been playing the fiddle against hallucinations!\" \nAnd he played:\n\n \n\n♫ ♬ ♩ ♪ ♬ ♬ ♩ ♩♫ ♬ ♪ ♬ \nEating all the mushrooms and seeing stuff! \nThe Lord and the Devil have both had enough! \nBut Johnny has a question buried deep within: \nWhere did he find a golden violin? \n♫ ♬ ♩ ♪ ♬ ♬ ♩ ♩♫ ♬ ♪ ♬ \n\n \n\n♫ ♬ ♩ ♪ ♬ ♬ ♩ ♩♫ ♬ ♪ ♬!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You hire a female prostitute, tell her to meet you at a fancy restaurant, and ask her to pretend to be your colleague from the bank. Hire a male prostitute, and tell him the same thing. You sit at a table next to theirs and listen to their conversation." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was called *Fuck You* money, the type of money you burn in front of poor people just to see the hope fade from their eyes. It was the type of money you used to hire the most expensive prostitutes in America, tell them to pretend to be bankers, and have them meet for lunch in *Le Bernardin* in the heart of Manhattan. Each thought they were meeting a client, both were told to never break act.\n\nI sat at the table next to theirs, twirling a stainless steel pen with the letters *Goldman Sachs* gilded on. The girl, Anna, was the first to arrive. A tight black skirt hugged her figure. The skirt was short, but work-appropriate short. She was the best prostitute *Fuck You* money could buy which meant she was the best in the world. She turned her wrist and checked a silver Rolex. It was a Daytona model. She had certainly done her research.\n\nThe guy, Brandon, soon followed. He wore a navy blue suit without a single crinkle. I glanced down at his shoes. Brooks Brothers, custom-made. It looked hand-crafted even. A smile touched my lips as he sat down and extended his hand for a handshake.\n\n“Anna, was it?” Brandon said. “Thanks for meeting me, my name’s Brandon, VP at JPMorgan Chase, housing division.”\n\nAnna returned him a firm shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m a VP at Merrill Lynch, risk division.”\n\n“Look at us, if our bosses found us here. They’d have our bonuses.”\n\nShe laughed and took a sip of wine. “So, I was told that you had a business proposal for me?”\n\nThis was it, the reason I had dropped five figures on two prostitutes. Brandon would fumble through banking buzz words and financial pseudo-sciences as I sat back, laughing at his stupidity. Then Anna would follow in their dance of idiocrasy, all the way until they left *La Bernadin*, never to return because they couldn’t afford even its dress code. My pen twirled in anticipation.\n\n“Credit default swaps,” Brandon said. “It’s insurance against bad loans. So if we make a string of bad investments, even when we lose, we make money, just not as much.”\n\nAnna furrowed her brow. “I work risk at Merrill Lynch, I know how to lower risk.”\n\nA giggle tickled my throat. What would a prostitute know about credit default swaps? He probably read the first Wikipedia paragraph and now thought himself an expert. I wondered who would be the bigger idiot, Brandon or Anna?\n\n“What if we pair that up with thousands of high-risk loans?”\n\n“Like we already do?” Anna asked.\n\n“But not *individually*.” Brandon leaned forward, his voice lowered so I had to strain my ears just to hear his words. “We pool them all together and then securitize them into a single asset. Tell me Anna, what happens when you bundle risk?”\n\n“It drops,” Anna said. “But those have been around for a while now. Are you proposing that we just keep doing what we’re doing?”\n\nBrandon frowned. It looked like Anna had done more research than him. I pretended to cough to stifle my laughter. It was he who would look the fool!\n\n“Wait,” Anna said, “but how about we talk to the ratings agencies. The bigger the pool of assets, the lower the risk. If we get a big enough pool, any sort of shitty asset could have a triple-A rating.”\n\nMy jaw dropped and I broke character by staring straight at her. The two didn’t even notice, they were so buried in their conversation.\n\n“We can lower it further by having it asset-backed. Like a car loan,” Brandon said, his voice rising with his excitement.\n\n“Like a mortgage!” Anna said. “We can sell janitors million dollar houses on loans they’ll never pay off, pool all those loans together, and then sell them off as a Triple-A asset before they crash and burn.”\n\nMy fingers trembled, but not with the same excitement I had purchased. They were right. Banks could securitize all these shitty mortgages and their value would rise because their ratings would, even though the risk technically stayed exactly the same. My pen dropped to the napkin in front of me and I wrote a single phrase into it before slipping it in my pocket and leaving.\n\n*Sub-prime mortgages.*\n\n---\n\n---\n\n/r/jraywang for daily WP stories, continuations by popular demand, and more!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was a real good guy, through and through. Never met anyone quite like him since, never really expect I will either.\n\nPeople like Joe don't come around often. Once in a lifetime maybe, if you're lucky.\n\nAlmost everyone I've ever met had the tiny silvered papercuts of white-lies on their fingers. It's a price of formalities, a camouflage of sorts- as everyone has a few, some deeper cut than others over the years; opened and reopened time after time. And not just that, but the larger cuts, silvery things on forearms and shins, necks or backs. People lie, it's just the way of things.\n\nSometimes the pain it worth the deception, the balancing scale plays out mentally before a person's mouth opens.\n\nJoining the force was what I wanted. There was a lie I told myself: A Lie I scratched in deep, over and over again. I wanted to change, I wanted my parents to be proud: All lies, tiny scratching lines on my shoulder to create a strange and deceitful pattern that never seemed to heal completely.\n\nIn truth, I joined the force because I had nothing left. I joined as a last ditch effort to save myself from rock bottom. Among the elite, surrounded by the brave and the successful, I simply kept my head down. It felt like being a fox, stuck among a pack of wolves. Just being there in the first place felt like deception.\n\nBut then, there was instructor Joe.\n\nI had more scars than most, and that earned little trust- but if people were politely cold with me, they were visibly frigid with Joe. See, he didn't have the traditional marks on his hands, he didn't have cuts and nicks along his arms, his face or neck: At a quick glance you might have thought him the most honest man alive. In fact, at first people did. A man in his fading thirties without scars? \n\nThat's like a god-damn unicorn. They're more myth and legend than person- yet there he was. Plain as day.\n\nEveryone liked Joe that first week. Everyone wanted to be on good terms with him- I mean, who wouldn't? In a world of liars and cheats, proof reminded at every twist and turn of the road, who wouldn't want someone they could trust? \n\nWell, that was before he took of his shirt in the locker-room. Before we all saw the hideous mark that covered half his back. One lie, but the most gruesome thing I've ever seen. From his shoulder blade to his ribs, it looked like a crashing comet of red and silvered white. A tiny portion of it just finally healing, a rough tear now recovered again.\n\nIt was all the same lie. That's something you can just tell sometimes, just know it. Usually you can tell how many times too, but whatever the number was which he'd said *that* aloud, I don't know. \n\nHe rarely spoke to begin with, issuing the orders with a stern smile, instructing as all the rest did. He was positive, encouraging, truthful: But that scar was on everyone's mind. Deep, dark, and terrible: Someone who could tell a lie like that... Well, there was someone to watch out for. In the end though, it was at the range when things went well and truly sour.\n\nLive-fire runs, we'd done them a thousand times, but that day I guess someone forgot themselves. Maybe they thought too much on *what* and *how* and their brain skipped a beat, or maybe they were just careless. Regardless of the reason, a shot fired when it shouldn't have. Brass spit fire, Air swallowed metal, and lead took its first taste of iron, calcium, iron and dirt.\n\nIn that order.\n\nWe all stopped, eyes wide and watching that kid fall down real slow. First standing, staring with his hand pulling away- not even scared, just shocked. Red, like deep crimson soaking and spreading, he dropped down to his knees. Still, he wasn't even there yet, it hadn't quite processed.\n\nThat's when Joe caught him- and all the shouting erupted. The pandemonium, the first real training turned to action kicking in. Cries for \"Medic!\"and \"KIT! Get the kit!\"as people ran for the directions they thought mattered.\n\nI was close enough to know that wasn't going to make a difference. Center of mass was what we trained for, the reason was straight and forward: Shoot to kill. Eliminate the target and move on.\n\nSo I sat there, weapon heavy in my hands as I watched Joe hold this kid, blood pouring out into the dirt like a faucet, and I listened to him repeat the words that cut deep. Over, and over, and over again.\n\n*\"Hang on, look at me. You're gonna be alright.\"* \n\n*\"You're gonna be alright.\"*\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The heart monitor marked the slowing of her heart beats, the beeps getting farther and farther apart each passing minute. The looks from the nurses told me it was only a matter of time until it was all over. I picked absentmindedly at a loose string hanging from the sling holding my arm tight against my body.\n\nI hadn't seen the car coming, because I had been yelling into the back seat at her. I couldn't even remember what I had been yelling about, but it didn't matter right now. She looked so small lying in the hospital bed, her golden curls on the pillow. I wished for a way to take her home, to make her safe again.\n\nThe heart monitor beeped out a warning that the nurse quickly shut off. Her eyes fluttered open and my heart leapt with a momentary hope. I wished to apologize, to tell her it was my fault. Her eyes closed again, and my sorrow ballooned once more.\n\nI prayed the way only a broken man can. Nobody was saying anything, we all just waited. The doctor walked in the room silently. Was time starting to run out?\n\nShe opened her eyes again. I smiled at her.\n\nIt was happening.\n\nHearts stopped.\n\nChildless." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The actor stood answered the knock at his trailer door. When he saw who it was that knocked, he said, \"I wondered when you would show up. Want to come in?\"\n\nDeath nodded his skeletal head and said, \"Yes.\"\n\nThe two took seats, the actor in his chair and the skeleton on a long couch. There was silence between them for what seemed a long time, or at least what mortals consider a long time. During the interval, Death patted out his suit and fidgeted with small items sitting on the table next to the couch. It was the actor who finally broke the silence.\n\n\"What kept you?\"\n\n\"Well, um, you see....\"Death said, then straightened his tie, \"It was, shall we say, a clerical error? Every mortal has a timepiece, an hourglass. When I see the sand has run out, I go find the person and call them home.\"\n\n\"Okay. Go on.\"\n\n\"Yours... well, this is embarrassing, but it got bumped.\"\n\n\"Bumped?\"\n\n\"Yes, as in knocked over. I think it was sometime in the 1500's? There was this flood in Rome, I was so busy and I must have upset the thing while i was in a hurry.\"\n\n\"Occupational hazard, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Yes. Yes indeed. Well, your hourglass... it rolled under my desk. I'm not a very fastidious cleaner, you understand, so I just now found it.\"\n\n\"You haven't cleaned under your desk in almost 500 years?\"\n\n\"I have things to do. Besides, have you seen how much good television is on right now and... look, I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"It's okay. I knew this day was coming. I'm ready.\"\n\nThe skeleton laughed. It was a strange sound, like sand being sifted onto a peice of sheet metal. \n\n\"You're not dying today. Is that what you were worried about?\"\n\n\"I'm not worried. I've had a good life. Several actually. I'm adored now. But it's sometimes a sad existence. I think it's starting to show. It's probably time. But if it's not my time, then why are you here?\"\n\n\"My superiors thought it was important that I come apologize personally. Your hourglass was righted. You will start to age now. You will die a natural death.\"\n\n\"Any chance you'll tell me when?\"\n\n\"Soon enough. But since your situation is... unusual, and frankly my fault, a formal apology and a head's up seemed appropriate. As to not upset you and let you return to a normal, mortal expectation.\"\n\nThe actor ran a hand through his hair. One came out. He looked at it. It was gray. A smile crept up in one corner of his mouth. \n\nHe said, \"Okay, then. I guess I'll see you in a little while. Thanks.\"\n\n\"It's really the least we could do.\"\n\n\"Want me to walk you off the lot?\"\n\n\"No, Mr. Reeves. I'll show myself out.\n\n\"Oh, and by the way, really looking forward to *John Wick 3*.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was taken to the palace when I was 8 years old. That's the age everyone gets tested. Luck is always the last thing they check for. It's usually a stat no-one pays much mind to. One in ten-thousand people score above 55, so if it comes back higher than that it's noteworthy, but no-one expects it to. My older siblings were both gifted with intelligence, Tom with a 78 and Nora at a stunning 86. My whole extended family threw a huge party to celebrate Nora's results. Receiving a score above 80 in any stat is a virtual guarantee that person's life will be lived a cut above the rest. She was enrolled in the world's most prestigious university at the age of 11, and was offered full tenure as a physics professor just six years later.\n\nThere was no party thrown after my results came back. As it was, the results were all that came back. I was taken directly from the chair I was analyzed in, to the palace. Everyone that scores 100 on their luck stat is taken here. They calculate that one in a million people receive higher than an 80 in their luck stat. There are exactly 13 of us in the palace. Every person in the world known to have a 100 on their luck stat resides on this small swath of land in North Sumatra. We want for nothing, save freedom. The finest doctors in the world perform regular health examinations on each of us. Food from around the world is flown in daily, and is prepared by a rotating pantheon of chefs who consider it the pinnacle of their career to perform their craft for us. The latest in entertainment technology? No whim or desire expressed by one of our thirteen residents is ignored, and only one request will ever be denied.\n\nSome of us live out our life in pure hedonism, taking full advantage of the fruits of other people's labor and talent. I can't truly blame them, being bereft of freedom tends to leave you with a grudge against your captors, no matter how gilded the cage. We're to be kept alive as long as possible though, so those who over-indulge find themselves on the receiving end of the world's most energetic life coaches.\n\nPersonally, I just want to be away from this place, but there's no escaping. It's not because of the lake we're surrounded by, or the guard towers and patrols that dot the landscape just beyond our view. Odds are good they'd never manage to catch us if we really wanted to avoid them. It's because of why we're here. We sit atop what geologists have identified as \"the last great super volcano.\"It should have blown its top, and approximately 98% of humanity with it, over 300 years ago. Someone got the bright idea to relocate the world's luckiest inhabitants right on top of it, as a \"hail Mary\"attempt to prevent the end of the world. So far, it seems to have worked. \n\nI live on the Toba caldera, along with the world's 12 \"luckiest\"people, and for everyone's sake I must never leave.\n\nEdit: Wow! My first ever gilding, and then you guys made it twice as nice. Thank you!!!\n\nI did not expect this kind of a reaction. I want to flesh this story out more, but I'm up at 3 am with my 4 month old son, so time is at a premium right now. If I'm able to do a part 2 I will update this thread.\n\nThank you all for your amazing feedback, support, and for just being awesome!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. \"Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“What did you say?”\n\nI paused, my card already jammed into the receptacle and deducting $5.29 from my bank account. “What?”\n\nThe clerk stared at me, his green eyes narrowed. I drew half a step back almost unconsciously. “Uh. I asked if I could have my drink cup. You guys keep making us wait and it’s kind of annoying.”\n\nThe man stared at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. “What are you doing?”\n\nAll right, the guy was clearly crazy. I tore my debit card free, shoving it back into the holder permanently resting in my pocket. “I’m trying to get a Big Mac. What’s your problem?”\n\n“Are you insane?” he hissed, leaning forward across the counter. “What are you *doing*?”\n\n“Greg?” someone called from across the store. A manager, judging by the color of their uniform. Their voice was carefully cheerful. “What’s going on?”\n\n“Nothing! Just helping this gentleman out,” Greg said, his face snapping back to carefully neutral as he smiled at me. A plastic cup was shoved into my hands, along with the paper slip of my receipt. “Look - don’t be an idiot,” he said, his voice dropping low enough I had to lean in to hear him. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but you can’t walk in here talking gibberish. Leave me alone.”\n\nI stared at him, my mind racing, but the customers behind me were already pushing forward. I stepped back to join the others waiting for their food, my mind churning.\n\nI had a bit of a gift. Well, that’s how I liked to think about it. It had taken a few years to figure out - all languages sounded exactly the same to me. No matter if I was speaking to someone blabbering on in French or chattering in Italian, it all came across as plain old English.\n\nMy parents had been freaked out, understandably. It had taken a bit of doing to convince them I wasn’t just crazy. And as soon as we’d pieced together what was going on, we’d begun hiding. It wasn’t as though I could suddenly start spouting off Spanish and German, after all. We couldn’t even just leave copies of Rosetta Stone lying around meaningfully. The instant someone I actually *knew* called me on it, the secret would be up. I kind of valued living a normal life, too much to allow something like that to happen.\n\nTray in hand and my mediocre food steaming, I filed back to my seat. I could feel Greg’s eyes on me the whole way - staring.\n\nWhat was his problem? Had I stuttered?\nAnd what had he meant, gibberish? Maybe he spoke a different language, sure, but why would that be a problem? He should be happy that I’d spoken Polish or Swahili or who-gives-a-fuck. Maybe a bit surprised, but not *angry*. His reaction wasn’t normal at all.\n\nI couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Normally I would have lingered, taking my time in eating. With the feeling of Clerk Asshat’s eyes on the back of my neck, I just wanted to leave. I shoveled my value meal down as quickly as I could, hardly tasting it. My phone lit up with notifications, friends and family blabbering away, all wanting to know where I was. When I’d be finished with the day’s chores. Could I pick up this grocery list for them, or finish that errand?\n\nI ignored all of them. The wrapper crumpled instantly in my hand as I pushed myself upright, dumping the whole lot of it in the trash.\n\nThe guy wasn’t there. A bit of the tension slipped out of my shoulders as I saw his station replaced by a tiny, grinning brunette. Good. Maybe his manager had finally taken him down a notch.\n\nThe lights on my car blinked across the parking lot at me as I stepped out of the store. The cold air snapped me awake, back to reality in an instant. I was letting that guy creep me out for no reason. He was just a jerk, that was all - trapped in his minimum wage job. Probably just a crazy, when I thought about it. He was probably just-\n\nI yelped, eyes widening as fingers buried themselves in my hair, pulling painfully. Someone had me. There was something cold at my throat - cold and *sharp*.\n\n“Ok, asshole,” Greg hissed in my ear, his voice wild. “We’re going to go for a walk.”\n\n“What the *fuck* are you-”\n\n“Shut up.”\n\nThe blade dug into my neck. I could feel a hot line of blood dripping down my skin. My mind raced - this was insane. He really was crazy. A lunatic. He was-\n\nThere was nothing I could do to fight him as he turned me, forcing me towards the back of the store. A dingy, beat-up station wagon waited in employee parking, the lot unlit and dismally dark. I scanned the lot even still, ready to bellow for help at a moment’s notice.\n\nIt was useless. There was no one around. No one was going to hear.\n\nHe slammed me into the back of his car, my face pressed painfully against the glass.\n\n“How stupid do you think I am?” he spat.\n\n“What the *hell* are you talking about?” I cried, shaking.\n\n“What, you think you’re being subtle? You’ll just walk in, talking the Old Tongue like you were born to it, and I’ll roll over for you?”\n\n“Look, dude, there’s been some mistake,” I moaned. “It’s-It’s just something that I can do, all right? It’s not-”\n\n“Right,” he said with a laugh, his fingers still pulling painfully at my hair. “Like I’m going to believe *that*.”\n\n“I speak tongues, all right?” I said, craning my head until I could look at him. “That’s all. I don’t know what you heard. All I know is-”\n\n“How long until they get here?”\n\nI blinked. “What?”\n\n“I’m not *stupid*,” he spat. “I’m not going to sit idly until they come to finish the job. How long until the rest of them show up?”\n\n“The rest of *who*?” I said, trying desperately to keep from crying.\n\n“You know damn well who-” he said, but stopped abruptly.\n\nI blinked.\n\nSomewhere in the distance, sirens were approaching.\n\nMy heart leapt. Police. *Yes*. Someone must have seen him, someone must have called the cops. I was saved. He’d-\n\nHe let go of my hair in an instant, leaping away. His car abandoned, he vanished into the underbrush of the woods behind the McDonald’s. I fell in a crumpled heap, my heart still pounding in my ears.\n\nTires screeched as the cop car pulled up moments later, a pair of officers piling out.\n\n“Sir! Sir, are you all right?” one yelled, racing over to me. “Can you tell me what happened?”\n\n“There was- a man,” I said, glancing back at the woods. ‘H-He had a knife. He was crazy. Thought I was speaking some funny language or something.”\n\n“Why would he think that?” the other said, his brow furrowing.\n\n“I-I don’t know,” I said, instinctively clamping down. The cops paused, staring at me.\n\n“What, that’s it?” the first said.\n\n“I’m sorry,” I muttered, unable to meet their eyes. My gaze drifted, needing to find something, anything else to look at. The flashing lights of their cars drew my eyes in, holding my gaze.\n\nI froze.\n\n“Well, look. I’m sure this has been a traumatic event. Why don’t you come back with us, and we’ll talk about it?” The second said, smiling blankly at me. One hand dropped to his belt.\n\nNeither of them was wearing a radio. There was nothing on his belt but a gun and a pair of handcuffs. The details of it stuck out like a lightning flash in my mind.\n\nI took a step back.\n\n“Look, don’t worry, all right?” the first said, beaming at me. “You’re safe now, right?”\n\nThe insignia on their car was wrong. I’d lived in the town my entire life, and it was *wrong*. It didn’t even have the right *name* on it. It just looked…\n\nGeneric.\n\nI took another step back.\n\nThe smiles were beginning to fade from their faces.\n\n“Look, come on,” the first said. “Just take it easy, ok? We’ll just go for a ride.”\n\nHis hand reached out, grabbing for my elbow. I skittered away before he could touch me, suddenly sure of two things.\n\nWhoever those two were, they were *not* police officers.\n\nAnd I was in a mess of trouble.\n\n---\n\n(/r/inorai, critique always welcome!)\n\n~~Not against a part 2, but I'm off to bed for the night, and part 2 would come in the morning xD there is a thread [on my sub -](https://www.reddit.com/r/Inorai/comments/8tn2oh/wp_whenever_you_speak_people_hear_you_speaking_in/e18qek8) Leave a comment there and I will update you if this gets more :)~~\n\n[Part 2!](https://www.reddit.com/r/Inorai/comments/8tvvbk/silvertongue_2/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You never kill the spiders in your home, you just whisper \"today you, tomorrow me\"when you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Why don't you just kill them?\"\n\n\"Because they're living creatures, Lindsay. You ask me that every ti–\"\n\n\"Oh shut up,\"she rolled her eyes, cutting him off. He sighed as he opened the door to the backyard. The moon was full but barely visible through the clouds. He knelt in the grass and whispered, \"Today you, tomorrow me.\"The spider leapt from his palm and disappeared into the darkness. He crouched there for a minute, wishing that he too could disappear into the darkness. He just didn't have the strength to leave. \n\nNo one believed that she had given him his scars, they didn't want to believe. He saw it in their eyes. They would laugh, mock him, shrugging it off, waving their hands, shaking their head as if to rid their ears of the words. He didn't tell many people, a coworker, a guy from the gym, his brother, and his best friends from school. The disregard for his confession hurt more than a book to the head or a fork to the arm ever could. But nothing hurt more than her betrayal. Every apology was a glimmer of hope that the woman he'd fallen in love with would return. Every insult she spat and object she hurled made him wonder if she was ever there, or if it had all been a dream. \n\nHe stood up slowly and turned to go into the house. *If I were more understanding, more giving, patient, she'd remember what we had and come back,* he thought. He'd had thousands of similar thoughts. He was a fixer. Maybe he could fix it. Fix himself, fix her, fix them. Deep down he knew he couldn't, but his hope and her blame kept him tied there. He'd tried counselors. He went alone when she'd refused to go. And when she insisted that he stop, that the counselor was driving them apart, he'd stopped. He shook his head, disappointed in himself again. \"Honey,\"he said opening the door, \"what do you think about trying to see Dr. Smith again?\"**WHACK** He heard the sound of glass shattering, but he didn't know what had hit him. He struggled to get up, but something else hit him. And he went down again. \"Lindsay, please...\"He looked up to see her looming over him, his old baseball bat in her hands, and he put his arms up to protect his face as she swung at him over and over and over and then she was shrieking. \n\n\"What is that??? ***scream*** Get them off!!! GET THEM OFF!!!\"He lifted his head to see his wife being swept out the back door in a wave of blackness. He thought he was hallucinating. His head was throbbing, bleeding as he struggled to get up. Leaning against the back door he watched as she disappeared into the woods, her scream echoing. \"Lindsay!\"he called after her, attempting to follow, but he collapsed in the doorway. \n\nThe next morning he woke up on the couch. He groaned, eyes adjusting to the early morning light. The room filled with evidence of the night's events but Lindsay wasn't there. He started to sit up to look for when he noticed a black rectangle on the wall. It looked like it was moving. Slowly, the blackness shifted, forming the words: \"Yesterday us, today you.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your spouse has the annoying habit of unexpectedly licking you. When you ask them why they do it, they always reply \"just so you know it's really me.\"You think it's nothing but a cute joke. One day, feeling something is off, you realise your spouse hasn't done it in over three weeks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was packing up some of Fi's old things when suddenly it hit me.\n\nThree weeks, four days, two hours without a lick.\n\nIt was a strange little thing, just one of those things that made Fi, well, Fi. Randomly, out of nowhere, \"just to let you know it's really me.\"\n\nSometimes, it would happen in public, and people would give us strange looks, but we'd act like nothing even happened.\n\nSometimes, she'd stop mid-sentence for a lick, and continue on like nothing ever happened while our friends and I all tried to stifle our laughter.\n\nSometimes, in the middle of the night, I'd wake up to a familiar wet sensation against my arm and a whispered \"sorry\".\n\nI laid the box on the floor and sat down, staring at the now barren counter. A few minutes ago, it had been covered in tiny pebbles, each one equally spaced from the others. Another one of her Fi-diosyncrasies, as we used to call them. I tried to remember some of the others, trying to remember her.\n\nHow, whenever she turned on a lightswitch, she'd flick it three times, on then off then on again.\n\nHow she'd go to the fridge and open it, look inside for a second, then close it, even though she'd just looked a few minutes ago.\n\nHow she'd take the stairs in an alternating pattern, one stair, two stair, one stair, two stair, the sound of the two pounding through the house.\n\nShe hadn't been able to do the last one in over a year, though.\n\nI remember finding her, lying on the stairs, passed out. At first, the doctors said she'd be fine, that all she needed was a few days rest. Over time, though, it became clear that wasn't true.\n\nI watched her slowly fall apart, one Fi-diosyncrasy at a time. Day by day, she lost the energy required to keep up all her obsessions, and then to do anything at all.\n\nAfter she couldn't walk anymore, she'd randomly call me up to the bed, saying she needed something. She'd talk faintly, almost in a whisper, so that I'd have to lean close to hear her. And then, I'd feel something wet hit my cheek. \"Just so you know it's still me.\", she'd whisper.\n\nI picked up the box again and headed out the door to the car. But then, I noticed something.\n\nA small cat sat on the porch. No collar, matted and dirty fur; probably a stray. I put down the box again, and knelt to get a closer look at it.\n\nSuddenly, it dashed over to me, and gave me a small lick on the hand. It stared at me, eyes wide.\n\nJust so that you know it's really me.\n\nNow, I'm no believer in reincarnation. I know that, whatever happens, my wife is gone now, and nothing's going to change that.\n\nBut that didn't stop me from calling it Fi." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Eminem has to tell the history of the earth to a group of aliens in 5 minuets or less." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Sir, we’ve checked and rechecked the translations, and we are 100% positive that this is what they said,” General MacMillan said. The army-man’s eyes were blazing intensity, and he knew what he wanted to say. However, attacking the invaders had already been written off the board by higher powers than he.\n\n“Five minuets,” the President said. “Five minuets. Not minutes. We’re sure it’s minuets.”\n\nIt wasn’t a question, but the general answered, “Yes.”\n\n“Can Eminem even do a minuet? Doesn’t he do…I don’t know, do rappers even dance?”\n\n“From what I understand, no, sir, they just bounce around and speak rapidly.”\n\n“How can he tell the history of the entire Earth in five minuets?” The president leaned back and rubbed his chin where a beard had grown until five minutes before he entered the political stage. That had been over twenty years ago, and now he wasn’t sure that anything in his experience would save him now. “Especially if he can’t talk.”\n\n“We have people working on it. Choreographers in Hollywood, and others of those ilk. Folks who worked in the opera.”\n\n“But why Eminem?”\n\n“We don’t know. We still have the option of a tactical, nucle—”\n\n“I told you already, I’m not going to go down in history as the president who caused interstellar war. We give in to their demands, Eminem will dance the history of the Earth, and they’ll begin trade with us.”\n\n“Sir, I strongly reco—”\n\n“Just have your people keep an eye on it. I’m going to give Eminem a call.”\n\n***\n\n“Yeah, I got it, just ask my daughter Haley,” Eminem said to the person who was teaching him ballroom dance. \n\n“How’s his progress?” the president asked. \n\n“Better than I would’ve expected, just watch his turn on the Cambrian Explosion,” Rick Leon, Eminem’s personal tutor, said. Mozart was playing in the background. “It’s beyond graceful. The way he moves…it’s just impossible to interpret it as anything but a true representation of Earth’s 4.5 billion year history.”\n\n“So you think he’ll be ready?” As the president spoke, Eminem performed two forward steps, swinging his open hands behind him each time. He spun and stepped sideways, raising his arm as though holding the gentle Earth on a string between his fingers. “Never mind.”\n\n***\n\nEminem walked to the stage that stood on the National Mall, where the aliens had requested the performance take place. He felt awkward without a microphone in his hand, but he knew it was up to him to save humanity. \n\nCritics, artists, and everyday people watched in rapture as he danced the five minuets. Never in the history of the Earth had anyone seen a spectacle that was simultaneously so stunning yet beautiful, so intense yet graceful, so confident yet lacking that egotistical nature of the rapper’s life works. Put simply, it was the culmination of the entirety of human culture. \n\nBy the end of the first minuet, people cried. At the closing of the second, they wept. At the end of the third, they closed their eyes, feeling unworthy of the sight that unfolded before them. The fourth minuet ended, and paramedics were on the scene, resuscitating and performing first aid on those who had lost consciousness due to the sheer magnificence of the act. The fifth started, and came close to an end. Those able to witness it, those who had endured the crazed glory of the dances thus far, were the only people to hear the rapper say, “Look If you had. One shot. Or one opportunity. To seize everything you ever wanted. In one moment. Would you capture it. Or just let it slip?” He then dropped his pants and mooned the alien mothership.\n\nA short time passed, and the invasion began.\n\n***\n\nEDIT: Thank you for reading! And for the compliments and gold!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the 4 people most impacted by your actions: the person you were the most cruel to, the person you were the nicest to, the person who was saved by your actions, and the person who died because of your choices." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In a room blacker than night, devoid of stars or any other such beauties, I floated. It was some shattered gap between nowhere and everywhere, the kind of lonely afterlife I'd always imagined would suit me best. \n\nI deserved nothing more. \n\nIt stayed that way for -- how do I put this? Forever, and yet not forever. I did not age, or move, or even feel the eons slink by in a human manner, and yet I knew it had been an eternity by the time the angel first appeared. He was a stark contrast to the void around us, brighter than the sun, yet cast light on nothing, as if his glow were being devoured by the abyss. \n\nSuddenly, I was standing on a circular piece of stone, and had some semblance of weight and being. \n\nThe angel opened his arms and spoke not in words, but directly to my mind. \"Timothy Halpert Bennington. You are now ready for judgment.\"\n\nJudgement. Ha, of course the afterlife would be something like religions predicted. I'm sure my life had left a bad taste in God's mouth. I didn't respond, only stared into the nothing below me. \n\n\"Your first Judge: the one you were cruelest to in life.\"\n\nI cocked my head, brows knitting into a line. People from my life would be judging me?\n\n*No. No, please, just send me to Hell.*\n\nMy eyes tried to shut, like slamming the door behind you to avoid a conversation you don't want to deal with, but something kept them open. The angel hadn't moved a muscle, and yet, I knew it was him. \n\nA pocket of light smudged something within itself. That smear of darkness stepped forward, onto another stone tile, and clarified as the pocket zipped up. \n\nIt was her. I knew it would be, but that didn't make it any easier to bear. \n\n\"Oh, Timmy, you're so young,\"she said, a soft smile on her face. \"I've missed you so much.\"\n\nI couldn't meet her eyes and searched for words, but my lips only trembled, mouthing empty motions. My eyes fell to the stone beneath her. \n\n\"Look at me, Timothy.\"\n\nI obliged.\n\n\"When you were a boy, no more than fifteen, you once burned all of my photo albums. Not just the ones with your father in them, but the ones of us, family trips and gatherings, every memory I ever had. They were erased forever, those last bits I had of him and our carefree times. I cried every day for a month, when you weren't home. That was my joy, mementos of when life was simple and fun, which you turned to ash.\"\n\nThere was nothing I wanted more than to squeeze my eyes shut, but I could not; I was forced to watch the sadness in her eyes as she spoke.\n\n\"That was your most cruel action-- it hurt me more than when your father left us. He had always been unkind, but for you, the light of my life, to torch away our memories like that... it broke me.\"\n\nBefore I could muster the courage to apologize, she slipped away into light. I felt sick, so humanly sick in my stomach, but knew there would be no relief. One does not vomit in the afterlife.\n\nThe angel offered me no reprieve. \"Your second judge: the one you were most kind to.\"\n\nOnce more a flash, and once more an approach. My eyes widened, face flickering as I tried to understand.\n\n\"You didn't expect to see me again, did you?\"Her smile was wide and bashful. \n\n\"How...?\"\n\n\"Oh, silly boy. The mind plays tricks on us sometimes. You probably thought that, because you'd caused me a great pain in life, there was no way you could have brought me joy, but life is not that black and white. It's so much more than that.\"\n\nStill I searched, and still I found no words. \n\n\"You were harsh -- even cruel -- at times, but it wasn't always like that. Your pain changed you, and even then, you weren't a purely cruel person. Just one that lashed out once in a while because you didn't understand how to handle it. Life can get very confusing.\n\n\"This is my favorite story. When you were ten -- such a cute little man -- you wrote me a poem for a school project. I'll never forget the words on that card: *To Mom, my bestest friend. I love you more than gummy bears or mac and cheese. You make me happier than Racer when I drop a potato chip and he eats it. Happy birthday to the best mommy in the whole wide world.* You wrote that on a card decorated with hearts and smiley faces. You didn't know it, but that was right when I'd first been diagnosed and your father started to show signs of his poor character as a man. Then, on top of it, you cooked me dinner, and it was so bad but I ate every bite. It was the best meal I've ever had. \n\n\"Never in my entire life have I felt as happy as I did in that moment. You were such a deeply caring boy before everything went wrong.\"\n\nI barely even remembered any of that. Had I really done something to make her happy? Why didn't I remember it, when I remembered such other, terrible things so clearly? \n\nShe disappeared into the light as I searched my soul, digging for answers but only turning up dirt. The angel, kind as he was, did not let me take a moment to figure things out. \n\n\"Your third judge: the one whose life you saved.\"\n\nI froze. The one whose life I saved? I'd never saved a life, I'd only done things far from it. Perhaps it was standard practice, and no one would walk through the portal this time. \n\nBut, just like clockwork, she was back again, her smile warmer than the halo over her head.\n\nI gaped at her. \"No. No, I killed you. This makes no sense, I didn't save you. Is this some kind of sick joke? Do angels play pranks on people?\"\n\n\"Oh, sweetie,\"she said, shaking her head. \"It was mercy. Besides, the sickness had already stolen me. Letting me go in peace in no way makes it your fault. Have you held yourself accountable all this time?\"\n\nI couldn't find it in me to respond, mashing my teeth together instead.\n\n\"It was my time to go. There was so much pain and suffering that plagued me, in the end; my sickness was no fault of yours. The fact that you put all your hurt aside and stayed with me so I wouldn't be alone meant more than the world. You did the most brave thing a boy can do for his mother, and saved me.\n\nFinally, there were words I found that I'd been looking for, choked and jagged as they were. \"I love you, Mom. I'm so sorry I wasn't a better son.\"\n\n\"Shh, now, darling. Your hurt is almost over. I'll be waiting for you.\"\n\nOne final time, she faded away. \n\n\"And now, your final judge,\"the angel said. \"The one whose life you took.\"\n\nMy nails bit into the skin, I clenched so hard, and I breathed deep to keep myself together in front of the angel overseeing it all-- though, honestly, hiding things probably didn't work when in the presence of Godly beings.\n\nFor when the swirling portal of light opened, it was not my mother that walked through as it had been the previous three times. No, it was someone much more familiar, and somehow, more terrifying. \n\nMe. \n\nI fought hard to look away, harder than I'd fought before, but I just couldn't. There was no power in me, wherever I was, and so I simply stood there, frozen and sobbing at my own reflection. \n\n\"This is probably pretty rough for you,\"he said, pursing his lips. \n\nI let out a croak in response. \n\n\"You've always been too hard on yourself, you know that? Isn't it time that you get a little peace, too?\"\n\n\"I don't deserve it,\"I whispered.\n\n\"Everyone does. This world is a complicated and terrifying place, and everyone knows their own pain. You lived a life consumed by yours, more than equal penance for your mistakes.\n\n\"You've heard what she had to say, and seen the smile she still wears. You hurt her, yes, but you were also the joy of her life. Your father left because she was sick, not because you weren't worth it; he was the problem, not either of you. Your mother loved and still loves you, and you're not a bad man for the things you suffered. I only wish I could've shown you that earlier. \n\n\"But, alas, I digress. Let's not do this-- you've spent long enough convincing yourself you don't deserve to be happy. It's time to rest, now, Tim. Be at peace.\"\n\nHe held out a hand. \n\nI stepped forward and took it. \n\n---\n\n*/r/resonatingfury*\n\nSide note: the outreach on this has been absolutely incredible. Thank you all so much for reading; I can't keep up with the responses, as I'm off my lunch break now, but thank all of you so much for the kind words and awards ♥\n\nI'm working on my first novel based off a prompt, [which can be read on my sub here](https://www.reddit.com/r/resonatingfury/comments/bie5ep/wp_you_possess_the_ability_of_persistent_lucid/), if you're interested!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Dumbledore's plan backfires completely. After enduring years of abuse, Harry Potter lashes out, killing the entire Dursley family, setting him on the path to becoming one of history's most terrible dark wizards." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Harry glanced nervously at his aunt and uncle at the dinner table, eyes darting between them as they feasted, desperate for their approval.\n\n“I must say, Harry, these porkchops are quite exquisite” Vernon said, taking a momentary break from shoving more food down his mouth. He set down the bone, let out a small belch, and wiped his mouth.\n\n“Thank you, Uncle,” Harry replied sheepishly. Despite going to the trouble of preparing the meal entirely by himself, he stood hungry next to the dinner table while his relatives indulged.\n\n“You know, boy, I’ll never approve of your….oddities…but we may have some use out of you yet” Petunia chimed in. “For some reason it never occurred to me to ask you to prepare dinners for us. When you volunteered I was skeptical, but now – now! After eating this, I think of all the time I’ve wasted preparing food for the three of us when we could have had you doing it the whole time.”\n\n“I’m glad you like it, Aunt Petunia,” Harry quietly responded, looking at the floor. \n\nOf course, the other unspoken reason they were initially apprehensive was that they were afraid Harry would use some of his magic to help prepare the meal. After all, he had been at Hogwarts for four full years now and they were clueless as to what he was capable of. This is why they were intent on watching Harry like a hawk during the entire preparation process, and only allowed him to prepare the meal for just the two of them on a night that Dudley was staying at his friend’s house just in case anything odd might be afoot.\n\nThey watched him from start to finish, but Harry had followed the rules by the book. He brought in the meat fresh, cleaned it, prepared it and cooked it all the old fashioned Muggle way. No wand, no magic involved in the preparation of the meal whatsoever. He figured surely the way to some sort of semi-workable relationship was through their stomachs. \n\nHe didn’t even care that the meal was split between them and he didn’t get any. That wasn’t the goal here. He just wanted to make sure that they enjoyed the meal he prepared for them.\n\nVernon took another brief respite from inhaling the meal. With food still in his mouth, he mused “You know…actually, I do have one…small complaint. Could use a tad more seasoning next time.”\n\nHarry started to fume. More seasoning? He had gone to such extreme lengths to make it perfect…spent hours to please them and didn’t even have anything to show for it himself. More seasoning? Vernon was wrong, straight out. Every Muggle cookbook he consulted said this was the perfect amount and any more would be overkill. Vernon had no idea what he was talking about and Harry’s blood started to boil. He briefly considered grabbing his wand. But, no. Harry’s resolve returned.\n\nHe had overcome so much over his first four years at Hogwarts, in particular the most recent one. He had to sit there, panicked, afraid for his life as Voldemort was resurrected with his blood. \n\nHe still could barely come to terms with the fact that the man that he thought was Mad-Eye Moody was actually Barty Crouch Jr., Voldemort’s most loyal follower and was planning to kill him the whole time. He trusted “Moody” implicitly, and the man had been so kind to him, shown him and taught him so many things. \n\nIn spite of himself, he let out a slight chuckle, reminiscing about the time that “Moody” transfigured Malfoy into a ferret. \n\nThat moment came as quite a surprise. Until that point, he didn’t even realize that wizards could transfigure other people into animals. \n\nBut it was a valuable lesson learned and one he took to heart. Satisfied once again, he watched with delight as his aunt and uncle ate the pig that used to be their son.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"So they are a war species then, huh.\"The alien scratched his head: \"Why are you interested in them. The humans, i mean.\"The other alien got closer. \"They fight for peace. No war species ever fights for peace.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So what does that even mean? Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity.\"\n\"That's the thing, most war species... you know... like war. Human's absolutely detest it. Something like a quarter of their literature is whining about how much war sucks. That being said, most of that literature goes into great detail about how exactly war was fought ages ago, right now, or in some hypothetical future.\"\n\"I'm still not following you.\" \n\"OK, say you are doing something you love to do, you stretch it out, you make it last, you try to set it up so you can do it again as soon as possible. \nSomething you hate, but have to do often. You do it quick, you do it efficiently, you try to set it so you never have to do it again. \nWith war, that involves inflicting the greatest amount of death, with the greatest amount of suffering, to anything that can possibly provide resistance. \nThat's what the humans have been doing. \nYou know how many war species invented chemical warfare? None! There's no fun in opening a valve and having all the other side drop dead. All examples were peaceful species acting in self-defense against war species. \nThe humans hadn't even had heavier than air flight for 2 decades before they already started mass deploying. They only stopped because they developed chemical masks and found the mask were negatively affecting their ability to kill quickly. Even then they started working on actual neurotoxic gasses which could be absorbed through the skin. \nYou know why they did it? That particular conflict had gone on for a few years, and everyone was getting sick of it, so they tried to do the horrible thing and get it over with. \nDid you know that they had their first fission bomb before they had their first fission power plant? They justified that by saying that if they had attacked conventionally, they would have actually killed MORE people. So they dropped two city-busters and called it a mercy, because the alternative was to lay waste to an entire densely populated subcontinent. \nThat's humanity in a nutshell. They're fairly creative sorts, but they have an unusual view of the big picture. They see war as an utter horror. So horrible that the greatest atrocities are but mild annoyances. So, they say: we find war so horrible, we will spare you and the universe that great horror, by unleashing this other far lesser horror. So that's why we virus bombed that eco-system, flooding the atmosphere with oxidized hydrocarbons, and then set it alight. So we can spare you the horrors of war. That's why we redirected that gamma ray-burst. To spare you the horrors of war. That's why we unleashed that arguably sentient nano-swarm to painfully reprocess that entire sentient species. To spare you the horrors of war. \nThey are a species so scared of war, that nothing else can scare them, and in their fear, they'll unleash horrors unimaginable on the universe and count the universe fortunate.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You ask for unlimited bread sticks as your final meal and the prison obliges. The warden brings you the first basket of bread sticks, sets them down, and says \"as soon as you stop eating, the meal is over\". It's day three." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The garlic bread came left and right\n\nCrumb by crumb, bite by bite\n\nThe warden nowhere near in sight\n\nWarm and cold, dark and light\n\nThe man, somehow, was always hungry\n\nSome were soft, some were crunchy\n\nThe guards were getting bored and antsy\n\nThis one’s good, this one’s nasty\n\nOne day, two days, three days, four\n\nSomehow, there was always more\n\nNo clue what they had in store\n\nHow long would he eat them for?\n\nOne cop asked, “Why garlic bread?”\n\nThe man ate all he could\n\nWith his mouth stuffed, the man then said,\n\n*“They’re really fucking good.”*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": ": Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This isn't possible!\"the man screamed, as the guards dragged him into my office. \"How! How the hell did you find me?\"\n\n\"That's not the important thing, Mr. Spencer.\"I said, calmly, as the guards pinned him face down to my desk. \"The important thing is after my firm put up the money for your bail, you attempted to skip out on your court date. Unacceptable, Mr. Spencer. *Unacceptable.\"*\n\n\"Your damn tracker *can't* have worked!\"he snarled, as they lifted up his shirt, exposing a thin, recently healed scar. \"I was picked up in an air car with a lead-lined interior! They flew me around the city for hours and *verified* we weren't followed or observed from any angle! My safe house is 30 feet underground, inside a F*araday cage!* There's no signal on Earth that can penetrate that!*\"*\n\n\"Apparently there is.\"I muttered, as I withdrew the extractor from my desk drawer and placed it over the implant site on his back.\n\n\"How did you do it?\"he pleaded, a wavering, almost panicked obsession creeping into his tone. \"I don't even care that you caught me anymore, I just want to know *how!* Your men were at my location before I could even have the damn implant pulled out! It's not possible, it---*AHG!\"*\n\nHe snarled in pain as the extractor's laser scalpel automatically made a quick, clean cut, sucked out the implanted capsule, and then resealed the incision with a medical adhesive.\n\n\"How do I always know where each shipment I insure for my clients is? How do I know the location of every priceless piece of art or errant trust-fund child I'm hired to look after? These are the secrets of my trade, Mr. Spencer. They're not for the likes of you.\"I said calmly, putting the extractor away and palming the implant out of his sight.\n\n\"Tell me! Please, for the love of God, *how* did you do it?!\"he wailed, tears of frustration filling his eyes as my guards dragged him away. I shook my head -- bad risk. I shouldn't have given him the chance to try and screw me over. But then, there was never *really* a chance he'd get away with it.\n\nI looked down at the metal capsule in my hand, and smiled as I opened it, revealing the tiny, old fashioned brass key inside.\n\nThey were common when I was a kid, but these days electronic locks have replaced them for almost everything. If not for some lateral thinking, that would have made my particular gift almost useless.\n\nYou see, unlike most people, I never, *ever* lose my keys." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In order to get a shot at going to Valhalla, you must die with a weapon in your hands. You just died and are now sitting in front of Odin's advisory board as they discuss whether a spatula actually counts." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I awoke to the quorking of ravens. The fact that I knew that sound meant ravens, or even what quorking was, surprised me, but didn't concern me. Nor did the fact I couldn't quite remember where I was or what I had been doing. That too, should've concerned me but, pleasantly, didn't. It felt like I was waking from a long nap, a bit foggy but refreshed. The ravens flapped and hopped around their perch in a way that seemed to indicate confusion or argument and, for a time, I just watched them. It was some time before I realized there was someone else in the room, or space, or where ever this was. A hooded old man, also observing the ravens with something approaching paternal concern was turned away from me. I tried to clear my throat politely but the sound echoed impossibly and all three figures turned to regard me. \n\n\"Greetings traveler,\"the old man said, \"You've caused my little friends here a bit of confusion. It seems your tale is a bit unusual for my halls, so I've chosen to hear it directly. Tell me sir, are you a warrior of your people?\"\n\nIt didn't feel like an interrogation and somehow I wasn't scared. It was like my grandfather had asked me about what I had for breakfast that day. It felt right to reply, and suddenly memory became clear. \n\n\"Uh...sir, no...not a warrior. Actually, farthest thing from it by most peoples way of thinking - I'm just a cook.\"I felt this would somehow end the dream, or whatever this was, or the man would be unimpressed, but he wasn't. If anything, he seemed to be smiling. \n\n\"That explains this,\"a dented, scratched spatula appeared in the mans hand. Memory seemed to awake at the sight.\n\n\"Yes! That's mine! I mean, well, the one I always use. I guess it's my favorite, as much as a spatula can be. I was using it just a little while ago, making....what was I making? I'm sorry, I can't remember.\"I felt the need to apologize to this figure, although I wouldn't be able to tell you why. He seemed familiar, somehow, like a relative I hadn't seen in years. \n\n\"Don't bother yourself with worry, traveler. Why don't you take up your favorite...spatula, and tell me of your...labors with it.\"The old man offered the spatula to me, handle first, carefully, almost tenderly, like it was precious and fragile. I reached out a hand to touch it and felt a flash of memory. \n\n\"I...I was in the...cafeteria...Yes, that's where I was. I work for the district and was making lunch. Chicken tenders and tater-tots, green beans, apple sauce, even a little salad. It's good for the kids to have good food to eat, don't you think? I always loved working with the kids and the district was kind enough to give me a job, even though I had a record.\"\n\nIt felt natural to say this to the old man. He was feeling more like a long missed friend so sharing with him was comfortable...easy. \n\n\"A cook, for children? That was your task? Your role amongst your people?\"The question wasn't delivered with malice or derision, the old man wasn't mocking me or being cruel. If anything, he seemed..surprised, maybe even a little impressed. \n\n\"Yes, I love working with the children. Little Cheryl and Tommy and Franz were always nice to me, always tried to tell me jokes. I made sure to give them extra tater-tots - they love tater-tots. They even made me some macaroni art! I hung it up behind the counter so I could see it every day.\"The children. Something about the children. Something horrifying was crawling at the edge of my memories. The children were in danger! The old man must've seen panic on my face.\n\n\"Peace, traveler, the children are safe,\"The old man put a hand on my arm and I instantly felt a peaceful calm return, \"tell me of this day, friend, then we can go from this place.\"\n\n\"Today? Normal day I guess. Spilled tea on myself getting ready, had to change my shirt and almost clocked in late. I was just getting ready for lunch when I started hearing something from upstairs. I didn't think the kids were doing a field day and the banging was so loud. I went to look out and kids were already running down the stairs, screaming and crying...\"I could feel tears of my own forming at the memory...\"I saw Tommy and Franz holding Cheryl...trying to push their hands against her side, already slick with blood. Tommy was missing a chunk of his right ear but didn't seem to care, he was holding onto Cheryl as hard as a 7 year old could. He was so brave, even as the other kids ran in every direction.\"The memory was an avalanche now. The screams of panicked adults and terrified children. The smell of blood and gun powder. The thunder of the shots getting closer. I remembered.\n\n\"I...I took them into the freezer, in the back of the cafeteria. Tommy, Franz, Cheryl....all the kids I could find. I found the big first aid kit we always keep in the cafeteria and yanked it off the wall to throw into the freezer with them and told them not to open the door, no matter what. Then I broke the handle and I think...\"my memory ended with the shock of impact, of a force on my back and a sudden red stain on the freezer door. Understanding slowly unfolded in my mind. \n\nThe old man stood silent for a long time. The ravens had taken to his shoulders at some point and all were looking at me intently. It was only now that I realized the old man, face hidden in shadow, seemed to have a patch over one eye. He also had a tear running down his face. \n\n\"I see now why my little friends were confused, traveler. Midgard has changed greatly since I last walked there and with it, so has the shape of battle. Thankfully, what hasn't changed is the stout heart of man.\"The old man seemed to be drawing himself up, getting impossibly big and powerful looking. In the distance, horns blared. \"Listen, friend, the horns of my hall are sounded for you. You have a place among the honored dead here. You fell upon a field that should never have been a battleground, defending those who should never need be warriors. You showed the bravery of long ages past and when you did, you held this in your hand.\"\n\nThe final memory blossomed in my mind. I had used the spatula to break the handle, that's why it was dented and scratched. Something new blossomed there. I could see minutes later, help arriving, the freezer being forced open, medics attending the survivors. \n\nEven little Cheryl. \n\nI saw a memorial in the cafeteria, candles and flowers. I saw drawings of crayon and sparkles, thank yous and prayers, Cheryl walking slowly, still bandaged, crying, laying another piece of macaroni art on the pile. In the middle, on a small stand, was the spatula. My spatula.\n\nI turned to the old man, who I now knew as if he was my father. He indicated a direction and we began walking together towards his distant hall as his ravens took flight, quorking to themselves contentedly. \n\n\nEdit 1: I am stunned and humbled by the response this has elicited, especially from folks who work with or at schools themselves. Thank you all. I will try to respond to all the comments I can individually, and will thank all the folks who were generous enough to gild this directly as soon as I can. I'm also integrating the very helpful feedback from a few folks who noticed I drifted into the 3rd person a few times. \n\nEdit 2: A few people have asked if I had a subreddit, so I've decided to condense all the prompts I've responded to over here - https://www.reddit.com/r/SpecialistSix/. I hope a few that didn't get much traction the first time around get some new readers. \n\nEdit 3: Check out /u/NachosGalore [reading of the piece](https://soundcloud.com/anartiesaysmoo/spatula/s-MVmlN) - I think it's great! " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When you die, you wake up in an alien world holding a bong, with other aliens saying how was the trip." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I love you, grandpa,” my youngest grand-daughter, Sherry, said as she squeezed my hand.\n\nI looked up at those emerald green eyes she had gotten from me, at my entire family’s as the heart machine’s slow beats gently faded. Eighty years had passed by in a blink of an eye. When I had been Sherry’s age, I had thought myself invincible. Then, at forty, I had worried constantly about death, thinking through sleepless nights about it. But now, I realized that it wasn’t so bad. Because if there was ever a scene to immortalize, to be my last, it would be this. Sherry, her bright green eyes glistening with tears, my children and grandchildren all around me as the heart beat monitor lulled me to a gentle and permanent sleep.\n\n“I love you too,” I told them all and I closed my eyes.\n\nMy eyes opened.\n\n“How was the trip?” a familiar voice asked from beside me.\n\nI looked around at the purple moss smothering the rolling hills and the campfire burning in front of me. On my lap was a bong. At last, I remembered. My name had never been Terry, it was Zor’oah.\n\n“Yo, dude, you back with us?” Galmroh said, snapping purple fingers in front of my face.\n\nI coughed and nodded. Seventeen eyes looked at me from the six people sitting around the campfire. Just as I had wished as fifty-year old Terry, I had gotten my time back. Zor’oah was a freshman in high school who finally got invited by the popular kids into a drug-fueled camping adventure. Three boys, three girls, and a lot of “*you can’t blame me for that, I was high*”.\n\nGalmroh and Sardak had already paired up, leaving me with Sierrah, the reason I had agreed to come. She now looked at me with sharp blue eyes, a small grin on her lips. Her purple hair had pink streaks across it that dangled off her head and curved into her chest like directions on where to direct your eyes.\n\n“So Zor’oah, how was it? Tell us all the things you did,” she asked.\n\n“Bet you can’t beat me,” Galmroh said, his chest inflating with pride. “My first trip, I enslaved an entire race and forced them to build these stupid triangles.”\n\n“At least he can’t do as bad as Sardak’s first trip. He was just a slave. At least he killed someone before his trip ended.” Sierrah said.\n\nThey turned to me again, waiting to hear of all my misdeeds. “I was a man named Terry,” I muttered. “And um… I met this girl named Sarah.”\n\nSierrah’s smile grew. “Sarah, eh? Tell us, what nasty things did you do to this *Sarah*?”\n\nBlood rushed to my face, burning it a deep violet. “I married her,” I said.\n\nGalmroh choked on a breath. Sardak burst out laughing. The rest of the girls only furrowed their brows.\n\n“Yeah.” I knew I should stop. I had spent an entire semester trying to join this circle and continuing the Life of Terry was social suicide. But someone had to know of that first kiss with Sarah, the look in her eye staring at our first child together, and the tears in Sherry’s eyes when she told me her final goodbye.\n\nSo I told them, my voice tinged with pride. At the end of my story, I was the only one smiling and my smile stretched from cheek to cheek.\n\n“Dude,” Galmroh said, awe in his voice. “That was… super lame.”\n\nEverybody burst into collective laughter.\n\n“You did even worse than me on my first trip!” Sardak howled. “You’re such a wimp! Why are you even here?”\n\nI nodded to that one. “Yeah,” I said, talking to myself. “Why am I here?” I pushed myself up and walked back toward my spaceship.\n\nLaughter followed me the entire way, but I didn’t care. I opened the hatch of my spaceship and was just about to get in when I heard, “Zor’oah!”\n\nI turned to find Sierrah. She hunched over, panting, one of the buttons on her blouse undone. “Hey,” she said, “you don’t have to run. I mean, your trip was totally lame, but your next one’ll be better. Plus”—she bit her bottom lip and her eyes grew big—“you don’t want to be the only virgin in school, do you?”\n\nBeneath the starry sky, the silver luminescence of our twin moons, I recognized the glint in her eyes and for a single second, they were a brighter green than any emerald in the world.\n\n“Sorry,” I told the most beautiful girl in my high school and slipped into my spaceship. “By the way, the trip wasn’t lame.”\n\nMy engines roared to life and I flew off into the twilight. There were a trillion stars above me and I knew that around one of them, on one planet, was a girl with wild grassy eyes still clutching her grandpa’s hand. There had to be. Tears filled my eyes as I flew back home.\n\nFiction or not, it was the most real thing I had ever done.\n\n---\n\n---\n\n/r/jraywang for 5+ stories weekly and ~200 stories already written!\n " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A boy asks a girl out. It's high school. It's awkward. Narrate it from the point of view of a nature documentary." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tensions are high as the male confronts the female, this species is known for unusual and often varied courting methods - this particular male has done away with the more common methods of wooing the female with erratic movements and hip thrusts. Instead he opts for a more simple approach, he aims to give the female a gift.\n\nIt should be noted that within this species females often travel in packs. This pack mentality serves as a natural deterrent against males who don't have the drive to show their face to a whole group when courting a single female - a form of natural selection if you would. The pack waits behind the female being courted, 'oohing' and 'ahing', mechanisms used to separate the truly decisive males from the others. It is often observed that males who make it this point succeed in their efforts.\n\nThe male now slowly approaches the female, gift in hand - a rose, roses are commonplace as courtship gifts within this particular sub-species known as 'high-schoolers'. After a brief moment the female takes the rose, he's done it. A snicker ensues from the female's pack, the male embraces the female and pats her on the back - the female, visually deterred by this, smiles and returns to her pack.\n\n A sound much like a bell rings signalling all present members of the species to return to their dens for more group tutoring.\n\n(This is my first prompt reply - I tried!)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Everyone who dies is granted levels in heaven depending on their actions before they died. Your famous grandmother got level 64 after she died and has since been constantly reminding her friends about how useless of a grandchild you are. Then one day, after 80 years, you show up, level 3008." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His life had been a simple one, uncomplicated. What little excitement there had been surrounded expected events. Births of children and grandchildren, marriages, graduations. Though he had been a smart man, he never felt the need to work particularly hard, \"furthering humanity\"as some of his peers were compelled. There was the time, following several successful years as a Scout Master, that it was suggested that he run for mayor of the small town where he lived. He had laughed and said, \"No thank you\"to the members of the town council who had gathered on his doorstep.\n\n\"He squanders his potential!\"she had whined at the other ladies gathered around the table. They gathered every other day to play Bridge, drink mimosas, and humble-brag about the minor intercessions that they were allowed in the lives of mortals. \"Everyone knows that if he wanted the VP job, he'd have had it long before that philanderer Jacobs was ever hired.\"she let out a slow breath, almost whistling through pursed lips. \"No drive, no motivation\"\n\nGrandma had been famous dancer back in the day. She was a regular on \"Soul Train\"and was in several scenes in Saturday Night Fever. She had started her own dance studio in the city and kept her instruction costs as low as she could in order to give as many kids a chance at a career. She had worked her feet to the bone, and then some. Practicing, paying dues, always just short, always just coming from behind. \n\n\"I made it to level 60 before I was 65!\"It was invariable that the other women would hear about how his grandmother had started a charity for retired artists. The organization had helped countless artists move off the streets and back into permanent housing by helping them do things as complex as recover owed royalties or as simple as apply for disability. It was a worthwhile use of her hard-won fortune and fame.\n\nWhen word came that he had finally died, 4 days after his 80th birthday, his grandmother was adamant.\n\n\"A real level 25 if I've ever seen one!\"\n\"He'll be in heaven, living on the Lord's pity!\"\n\nThe \"Vita\"began to print. The first thing that anyone saw, after your name, was the score. This was followed by every interaction, thought, word, or action that changed your level and the commensurate \"XP\"change, positive or negative. \n\nThe ladies read his name, and only one digit of his level.\n\n\"3.......\"\n\nThe grandmother sagged like wet cardboard. She could barely hold the paper as it poured from the printer in the way that always felt like it was decanting a whole life. There were no large changes in his score. None of the multi-level leaps that all of the highest level individuals possessed. Nothing attached to world changing events, nothing indicating that he radically changed humanity.\n\nWhat he did have was the \"multiplier\". The longer the string of positive or negative interactions, the greater the \"XP\"that the next was worth. His interactions were almost all positive. He had gone almost a decade without a negative score at one point. Simply making his wife tea at night without being asked had scaled to the point that it was worth the same relative XP at level 3000 as it had at 30. \n\nWhen some would've shaken their fists and yelled as they were cut-off in traffic, he just tapped his brakes and checked the rear-view mirror.\n\nWhen some would have railed at the \"idiots\"at work making their job more difficult, he quietly cleaned up the mess and moved on.\n\nWhen he was frustrated, he didn't take it out on his coworkers, wife, kids, or friends.\n\nAll of the small things that could break a multiplier string. All of the small, seemingly inconsequential items that prevented almost everyone from achieving arch-angel status. He had avoided most of them.\n\nAs he lay, dying in a hospital bed. His daughter asked him a question, though she well knew the answer and had heard it a thousand times. She wanted to hear it once more, so she asked, \"Dad, how can I have a good life?\"\n\nHe smiled and his cloudy, shimmering eyes seemed to focus on a point ten feet above his bed.\n\nHe whispered, trailing off, \"Do unto others...\"\n\n\n\n\nEdit: Wow, absolutely thanks everyone. I enjoyed reading all of your comments, and I'm pleased that this supplants my previous high karma statement which was a quote about a man in the depths of an ether binge.\n\nSpecial thanks to those that gilded. I'll have to sign into my account more often again and see what it does. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jen gnawed her lip as she stared through the lens. Jase hadn't covered it with his thumb, which was unusual. Even more unusual, he was actually carrying groceries, a couple of big paper bags of them, one in each arm.\n\n \n\n\"Please let me in, Jennifer,\"he said. \"Things will be different.\"\n\n \n\nHe'd had a shave and a haircut. There was a little crusted blood around one nostril, the way he got sometimes when he hadn't had any coke in a while. \n\n  \n\n\"Aren't you gonna tell me to turn off the computer?\"she asked. In the background, the intro music of High Seas of Naelor could be heard. Sometimes that game was all that got her through the night. Jase had always hated it. He'd deleted all her accounts multiple times. She always got a new one, and now she had password managers that he couldn't crack. He'd split her lip for that once, but she had not given in. She kept the apartment spotless, she handed over every cent of her check every two weeks, she worked out and never showed him a face without nice makeup on it, but he could not take away her elf pirates.\n\n \n\n\"No, Jennifer,\"he said. \"The computer is a reasonable coping mechanism in a situation traumatic to your sp - to someone in your situation. Please let me in. We will talk. Things will be different.\"\n\n \n\n\"I've been watching the news,\"she said. \"You're not Jase, are you?\"\n\n \n\nHis eyes were big and wide and brown, not narrowed in suspicion and impending temper.\n\n \n\n\"No,\"he sighed. \"I am not Jason Alexander Rembrandt, aged twenty-nine, occupation unfixed, residence apartment 301 building N.\"\n\n \n\n\"You're one of them things,\"she said. \"The invaders.\"\n\n \n\n\"Yes. I am one of them things,\"he said sadly.\n\n \n\n\"And Jase is dead.\"\n\n \n\n\"Yes, Jase is very dead, Jennifer,\"he said. \n\n \n\n\"Promise?\"\n\n \n\n\"I promise. I currently occupy the entirety of what was once Jase's frontal lobe, so I can say this with some certainty. I apologize if that is unpleasant for you to hear.\"He blinked a couple of times, and she realized he hadn't blinked since the first time she'd seen him. \"I suppose you will be contacting the authorities. Could I persuade you to give me a head start?\"\n\n \n\n\"No,\"Jennifer said as she took the chain off. She opened the apartment door. \"But you can come in. Is that fresh bread?\"\n\n \n\nThe thing that wasn't Jase smiled in a way that Jase never had, as if he were genuinely happy to see her. He took the groceries into the kitchen as she locked the door again and began putting them away, his movements a little clumsy.\n\n \n\n\"Yes,\"he said. \"Jase remembered that you liked the kind with olives in it.\"\n\n \n\n\"He never brought me any,\"Jennifer said.\n\n \n\n\"No, he did not,\"the thing said. \"May I stay here? Now that I have a host I have no reason to hurt anyone, you know. We only want a place to stay. All of us.\"\n\n \n\n\"Well, you can't all stay in here,\"Jen said, leaning her elbows on the counter. \n\n \n\n\"No, no. We would not all fit. Ha, ha?\"he added hopefully.\n\n \n\n\"The laugh isn't convincing,\"Jen said. \n\n \n\n\"Sorry, Jennifer.\"\n\n  \n\n\"You can stay.\"\n\n \n\n\"Thank you, Jennifer!\"It smiled again. It kept forgetting to blink, but the smile was surprisingly real. \"May I watch you play your pirate game?\"\n\n \n\nJen smiled back. \"Sure. Come on.\"\n\n \n\n*Author's note: WOW I did not expect the level of response I got to this one! Thank you to everyone leaving comments, and to those who have given me silver and gold as well. I love parasites and symbiotes, and I actually have a novel project about one in progress, although it's post-apocalyptic and not much like the story of Jase and Jennifer. Given how much you guys seem to like this little one-shot, though, maybe I need to think about doing a modern-day retelling.*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "My German Shepard had to be put down today. We never knew where he came from. Please write about his adventures." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember before I met friend. I don't like to remember, but I can. I remember the dark and cold. I remember mama wouldn't wake up. It was raining. Big men came and put me in a box, then put that box in a bigger mover box. I remember bumping up and down and the men talking loudly, and the rain hitting the bigger mover box, and loud angry geese sounds. When the big box opened they carried me in my little box inside. I was shaking and barking and shrieking and scared I was scared. They emptied my box into a bigger box and left me there for days. I got food and water, but people poked and pricked at me. I was scared and no one could help and I was lonely and I missed mama and I didn't think I was going to get out. The other dogs were bigger and louder and barked at me through the box walls. \n\nThat's when I met friend. He came in and stopped and looked at me. I didn't want him to grab me like the other men did, but he lifted me gently. It reminded me of mama. I liked him and I wanted him to stay, but then he walked away and I barked, and I barked, and I barked, but he didn't hear me. But then he came back. He put me in a big mover box again, but I wasn't in the smaller box so it wasn't as bad. \n\nThen when we got to his inside place it was the biggest box I had ever seen. I ran all around it, and I was tired by the time I had run around the whole thing. I could jump and run, and friend was always there to play, or sit on, or protect. He went away a lot when the sun was out, but he was always home after it went down. Some days he was with me the whole day. \n\nI was scared of the outside when he first found me, but he made me love it again. The walks, and the toys, oh the toys, there were so many toys, and bones, and treats, and belly scratches. He let me run free and was always there to go back to. I remember those days. They were my favorite. \n\nHe even helped me get over my fear of the big mover boxes. Usually, they went to the park. Sometimes, they went to the other place. The other place reminded me of where friend found me. It was all white and the floor went click click click under my paws. It had a big lady with glasses and a white coat. She would poke and prod at me, but friend was always there so I wasn't that scared.\n\nBut all of that seems so long ago. My legs are tired now. The outside seems so much bigger than it did. I can only run for so long now. But friend still brings me. He brings my toys too, they still cheer me up. They don't squeak as much, but I don't mind. The outside is starting to hurt. The cold gets through my fur easier. I feel so sorry to friend. I know he wishes we could still run and play. I try to, for a time, but I don't think I can keep up with him anymore. I wish I could thank him for everything. For getting me out of that box. He made me the luckiest dog in the whole world. He gave me things I didn't think I would ever have. I never felt so lost when my mama went to sleep. I thought no one would ever make sure I was ok. No one would ever be there to protect me. Then friend did. I was never able to thank him enough, but I hope he knows.\n\nFriend says were going for a ride soon. He's been taking me to the park more, so that's probably where we're going. I remember once, when I was tiny, we went to the other place and the woman poked me with a needle. It made me sleep for at least a hundred years. I feel like that now; like I could sleep for one hundred years. Maybe Friend can bring me back there. So she can give me another poke. I'll be less tired after another hundred years. \n\n\nEdit: Thank you all for the kind words. I only hope that this thread was able to ease OPs pain, even if just for a little while. To all those crying, it's alright, I cried too. Dogs are too pure for this world. For everyone giving me gold, thank you, really. But please, donate to an animal shelter instead. Every little bit helps." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Death was the oldest. Since time immemorial, people have died and they have come to him. Mankind fights an endless war against him. Though they may have succeeded in stifling his actions, Death is patient. He knows that in the end, all things come to him.\n\nPestilence was Death's brother. He brought plague upon the lands. Staining the Earth black with disease and blight. His method of bringing people to his brother was slow and excruciating. However, mankind have begun to stave him off. Disease was beaten by technology and he increasingly faded into irrelevance.\n\nFamine was as old as Death and pre-dated the birth of mankind. He worked with Pestilence to target the source of man's strength, his food and fuel. He destroyed crop and rotted grain. Starvation and a slow path to Death awaited those afflicted by him. However, man stood strong against him. They developed methods to create a surplus of food, too much for Famine to destroy. They developed methods to deflect his hand so that he may no longer afflict the source of man's strength. Thus, Famine, like Pestilence, faded into irrelevance.\n\nWar was the youngest. He was smart and cunning. He channeled man's strength against themselves. Conflict and strife became the grounds for which man displayed his strength. Efficient in work, he brought many to Death. However after his most brilliant work, where War embroiled the world twice over, mankind caught on to his cunning. Man made laws and grew to depend on each other. Though they may never fully quell War's influence, they made sure he would never afflict the world so spectacularly ever again.\n\nDeath was unhappy. Mankind had defeated his brothers and impeded his work. In his impatience and anger, he consulted his 5th brother, Kyle.\n\nKyle was a strange fellow amongst the brothers. He was quiet, lazy and seemed to care little for Death's work. He decided that his own birthname was too tedious to pronounce and opted for an easier name. Gaelic in origin, \"Kyle\"meant \"narrow\"a strange name for a Horseman to take on.\n\n\"Help me Kyle. My brothers are defeated. Mankind may one day defeat me as well. Please help out just this once.\"Kyle said nothing and merely nodded. He then disappeared off to perform his work.\n\nAs Death sat around his bedridden brothers, a miracle occured. Pestilence finger twitched and he his hands grew fleshy. Disease once again spread around the world. No longer as powerful as he once was, but alive once again.\n\nFamine groaned and began to sit upright. Once again, crops wilted and people starved. Famine however, felt something amiss, some of his work was...voluntary. Mankind began to starve itself.\n\nWar rose from his bed with new found strength. The gears of conflict shook off their rust and began to turn once again. Innocents die in battle again, widows gained and fathers lost. Misguided soldiers die under authority's whims.\n\n\"You revived our brothers Kyle. How did you do it?\"Asked Death, impressed with Kyle's work.\n\n\"I am Kyle, \"narrow\", the fourth of the Horsemen. Born with humanity but before War. My influence appeared when the first man decided that he did not need his tribe to survive. Narrow are the minds of humans.\n\nHumans defeated disease with miracle cures. Now some fear that those cures are harmful to them. Let them face Pestilence's wrath.\n\nHumans defeated Famine through piling resources and modifying crop. Now they hoard but never give. They let their breathren starve. Now they feel that excess of food is sin. They willing starve themselves of their source of strength to meet society's whims. Let them suffer by Famine's hand.\n\nHumans defeated War through tolerance, diplomacy and restraint. Now they turn intolerant and unleash violence against those not of their own group. They justify their \"Holy Wars\"with the blood of innocents. Violence begets violence, vengeance for innocent blood spilled is carried out by the sword. Let them spiral down to oblivion, guided by War.\n\nNarrow are the minds of humans. They do not think before they act. They believe what they want to believe and ignore what they don't. \n\nI am Ignorance. Until mankind is capable of defeating me, they can never truly destroy the Horsemen.\"\n\n\n\nEDIT: Nice to receive some criticism, turns out I severely lack knowledge on how the whole 4 Horsemen thing works. I really should go read up on this. Some mistakes here and there as well. I kinda, forgot to follow up on the \"modified crop\"thing that was pointed out. Oops. Also apparently my 5th paragraph should have Death refer to Kyle as his 4th brother, not his 5th.\n\nReddit gold. Did not expect that. Thanks to those who tossed those my way. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're throwing a ball around with your dog and he's loving it. Then, he stops dead still. He takes a quick sniff and looks up at you and says \"I'm not supposed to do this, but you need to get inside right now\". He looks off into the distance, \"They're coming\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My first thought is that I'm insane. My second is that I'm way too stoned, my eyes glancing at the half-smoked joint sitting in the ashtray on the porch.\n\nI'm dead sure I just heard Jax speak. And now there are howls in the distance, a chorus of neighborhood dogs calling to one another, Jax included.\n\n\"Can you repeat that?\"I say, forming the words slowly.\n\nJax abruptly halts his call to the skies, one paw still resting on the chewed up orange ball. \"You need to get inside.\"\n\nI try to comprehend the situation, my muscles involuntarily locking, with only my eyes flitting back and forth between Jax, the lawn, the half smoked joint and the orange ball. Something wet hits my bare foot, causing me to snap out of my paralysis. I swipe at the long line of drool hanging from the corner of my mouth.\n\n\"Get inside,\"Jax says again in some sort of bastard approximation of his bark.\n\nI turn and walk back to the house, still not quite understanding but now starting to accept - despite the absurd improbability of the situation - that my golden retriever is talking to me.\n\n\"Hurry, Abe,\"Jax says, nuzzling his snout against my ass. \"There isn't much time.\"\n\nI sit down on the living room couch, scratching my head in a caricature of confusion. \"What in the world...\"I say, mouthing the words silently as I stare out the window at Jax, who is now rapidly digging a hole in the front lawn with a dedication quite unbecoming of the lazy, irreverent best friend I thought I knew.\n\nAnother line of drool drapes itself across my knee and slowly steeps to the floor, forgotten. Jax pulls out what looks like a flak vest and a riot helmet and somehow dons them, then begins to howl again. The howl has a deep sense of purpose behind it, almost like a battle cry, like some sort of canine call to action.\n\nMy dog flashes a look back in my direction. His eyes contain a deep intelligence that wasn't there before.\n\nNoticing my discomfort and confusion, Jax bounds up to the window. \"We are man's best friend,\"he growls through the glass, puffing up his chest with pride. \"To defend you is our true purpose.\"\n\nA woman is sprinting down the street, causing Jax to snap back around and crouch low. She screams a terrible, blood curdling yell as something black streaks across the pavement and cannons into her, causing her to flail into the concrete. The creature rips the back of the woman's head to shreds before she even comes to a stop. I'm pretty sure it is Samantha, the kind lady down the street.\n\nThe black creature stops, satisfied with Samantha's splayed, lifeless form, then it turns and looks me dead in the eye, it's fangs glistening with bright red blood.\n\n\"Fucking cats,\"Jax says, setting his shoulders." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are the ageless evil of the land, and a prophecy has been made about a chosen one arising to end your rule. Instead of antagonizing the Chosen one, you send Gaurds to his farmstead, and give his parents tax breaks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Dark One, Overlord of the Fifteen Worlds, had kidnapped the oracle years ago. It was best to keep prophecy-spewing maidens close to the den, after all. So when the aforementioned oracle made the \"Great Prophecy\"that foretold of his reign's end by the hand of a farm girl, the Dark One was the first to hear of it.\n\nIn response, he did the logical thing. He marched over to the squalid hut that the baby lived in, gave the parents enough money to be comfortable, and kept his second-best regiment posted by their newly-furnished house. After all, the Dark One assured the parents, their child was destined for great things. You could never be too careful. There were plenty of people who'd want to take advantage of a gifted child.\n\nLook, he might have gotten the title of \"Dark One\"thanks to his mastery of black magic, but he wasn't evil. Unlike what those rebellious bands of terrorists thought, he had a reason for everything he did. It rankled a bit to rule over the realms with an iron fist, but *come on.* Until the populace was educated and advanced enough to govern itself, the people had to be united by force. The centuries of civil war before him just proved his point.\n\nSpeaking of education, he also ensured that Little Miss Chosen One had access to the best teachers. Dammit, if he was going to be overthrown by someone (though he was still holding out on that), it better be by someone smart—not some lunk with a sword. Of course, the drooler extraordinaire seemed more interested in slobbering over the books than reading them.\n\nOnce the kid actually learned how to read, however, that changed. The Dark One would visit her in between crushing insurrections with a new bundle of books in hand. She had an insatiable curiosity, devouring books faster than he could throw them at her. Her parents, though good people, didn't know the answers to anything. And though her tutors were the best, their knowledge paled in comparison to the master himself.... which is why he got the short end of the stick. \n\n\"Uncle Dark,\"she'd chirp, persisting in calling him by that stupid name, \"why can't we make more magic? Why do the elves and orcs hate each other? Why are there two suns?\"Why, why, *why.* If he never heard that phrase again, he'd die happy. If he ever died, that was. However, the Dark One had to admit that there was something satisfying about teaching someone and watching them thrive. He wondered why he hadn't done it sooner, honestly. (Oh, right. Students tended to overthrow their teachers to an alarming degree.)\n\nThe years seemed to pass faster than usual. He visited the girl, developed the economy, killed copycat \"Chosen Ones,\"vanquished chaos demons, and before he knew it, the child was no longer a child. Her knowledge began to outpace that of the tutors he sent, and soon, she was a skilled mage in her own right—a fully-developed *person*, too. With his immortality, the Dark One had forgotten how quickly mortals grew. He could forget no longer, though. \n\n\"Did you do it?\"she asked, standing as tall as his physical body. \"Did you massacre all those Reedlings?\"\n\nThe Dark One paused in his eightieth reread of *The Elements of Magic.* He remembered the massacre very well. It was what had given him his name. The Reedlings had kept rebelling and rebelling, and he'd just cast the immortality spell so his control had been unstable, and... he could think of a thousand excuses, but that wasn't what she'd asked.\n\n\"Yes,\"he said instead. \"I did.\"\n\n\"Why?\"The Dark One could hear the echo of her childish squeak, but the steel in her voice was anything but. \n \n\"I have never lied to you. I will not start now.\"And so, he began to talk. He started at the very beginning, back when he was still a mortal child in a different world. He talked about his discovery by a master wizard, his accidental use of the dimensional-portal spell, his rise to power... and everything in between. For the first time, he explained everything—what he did, how he did it, and most importantly, *why.*\n\nThe sun had set by the time he'd finished. The Chosen One was silent for what felt like too long.\n\n\"I understand,\"she said finally. \"What you did wasn't right, but I understand.\"\n\nA weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and the Dark One knew that he'd done something right. \"I think you should join the rebellion.\"\n\n\"What?\"She stared at him. \"You want me to join a disparate, silly gaggle of terrorists that want to kill you?\"\n\n\"That's what they are right now. But with you at the helm, they'll be a force to reckon with.\"\n\nIt took her quite some time to agree, but the Chosen One wasn't stupid. He'd made sure of that. She understood what he was asking, and so, she set off to fulfill her end of the prophecy. On his part, the Dark One encouraged rumors of the Chosen One's rise. He'd already loosened his grip over the empire in the last few decades, and it mostly functioned without his direct intervention, leaving him as just a figurehead. Everything was in place. All he had to do was wait. \n\nYears later, the Chosen One faced him again. The ragtag band of rebels had become a united force, and she led them as an accomplished mage and skilled tactician. They exchanged a show of magic for the masses before the Dark One allowed himself to be cornered inside his own castle. Everyone else was kept out by the barriers.\n\n\"This realm is ready for you,\"he said, sitting at the foot of his throne. \"The economy about to industrialize, the populace is educated, and best of all, everyone is united in their hatred of me.\"\n\n\"You really did plan this all, didn't you?\"The Chosen One laughed before taking her seat beside him. \"I've always been in awe of your foresight, but one question has bothered me through all these years: why did you do it?\"She paused and continued in a much softer tone. \"And why me?\"\n\nHe smiled. \"During my long life, I've learned that prophecies come true whether you like them or not. I hate them on principle, of course. They're too deterministic for my taste, but even prophecies let you choose how they come true. If my reign has to end, then I'd rather it be by someone who knows what they're doing. Someone like you.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry that—\"\n\n\"Don't be. I've been needing a break. Besides, I haven't visited the other worlds in a long, long time. One of them probably needs an evil overlord to overthrow, right?\"\n\nShe wiped away her tears and gave him a watery smile. \"I'll make you proud, Uncle Dark.\"\n\nThe Dark One patted her head, and as he disintegrated into dust, he said, \"You already have.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Holy shit, Dave! Look at your fucking face!\"\n\n\"Oh come on. It's not that bad.\"\n\n\"Are you kidding?!?\"\n\n\"It's not like it hurt.\"\n\n\"Dave, they tattooed pentagrams EVERYWHERE.\"\n\n\"Oh like I didn't know that, Carl.\"\n\n\"Well you don't seem very upset about it!\"\n\n\"It's not the 1950's anymore, man. People aren't judgey about tattoos anymore.\"\n\n\"SHHH. I think I hear someone coming.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah, they said something about \"The Virgin Ritual\"when they were bringing me back.\"\n\n\"Are you kidding me?! You didn't think to say anything sooner??!!?\"\n\n\"What? Jokes on them right? Neither of us are virgins.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Oh my god, Carl. Hahaha. Are you serious?! You're 37! How have you never had sex?\"\n\n\"This isn't helpful, Dave.\"\n\n\"Well maybe they just wanna help you get laid? You never know.\"\n\n\"THERE WERE ARMS ALL OVER THE FLOOR WHEN THEY WALKED US IN.\"\n\n\"Yeah, so maybe they just wanna 'give you a hand'.\"\n\n---------\n\nEDIT: I did NOT expect gold on this. Thank you, kind stranger! (I've always wanted to say that)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My profile page bore the golden border that indicated a number one position. A first place spot in a ranking. I was astonished. As far as I knew, there was nothing remarkable about my life. \n\nI clicked open my rankings dashboard. At the very top of the page, my highest accolade read: “#1 Most Time Spent Awake, But Still in Bed — Darell Harrelson”. \n\nI gaped at the screen. The rest of the Internet cafe had paused to watch my revelation. I could feel their eyes probing. \n\nI blushed heavily and left my coffee unfinished by the computer. I slipped past the staring onlookers and pushed through the door. I hopped back in my truck and peeled out, headed back to Pa’s ranch. \n\nI needed to lie down for a while." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You won a lifetime supply of Oreos when you were a kid. The apocoylpse and collapse of civilization was 30 years ago, yet every month the Oreos are still delivered to you, no matter where you are." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When I was a kid, I thought winning a lifetime supply of Oreos would mean truck after truck appearing at my house, each overflowing with Oreos. Back then I didn't think about things like where in the world we'd keep that many Oreos, or the fact that they'd all go bad shortly after, or that sooner or later I'd get sick of eating them. I just had this grand vision in my head I guess, didn't want to let it go. So I was pretty disappointed when a little package showed up on our front porch.\n\nThere were fifteen Oreos in the package. I asked my mom where the rest was, and she told me more would come next month. Waiting an entire month seemed like torture at that age, and made what arrived doubly crushing. Another package of exactly fifteen Oreos. It slowly sunk in to my little head that this was what winning a lifetime supply of Oreos looked like. No trumpets and fanfare, no overloaded trucks pulling in one after another. Just a little packet of fifteen Oreos on the first of every month.\n\nFifteen! I couldn't believe it. That wasn't even one Oreo for each day!\n\nThe grand imaginings we have as kids rarely come true. For example, I wanted to be a marine biologist. Then the whole world started collapsing and now there are hardly any fish even left, much less people with the time or tools to study them.\n\nAnd yet, those packages kept coming. To my house. To the shelter. To my tent. To the stick laid against a tree with an old coat draped over it so I could huddle under, away from the worst of the rain. Wherever I went, there they were. Fresh and neatly packaged up on the first of every month, like nothing bad had ever happened anywhere.\n\nFor a long time I tried to figure out where they were coming from, who delivered them, how they were finding me, anything. I ran after every lead, pursued every theory. Aliens? Fairies? Time travel? Some bizarre joke? All in my head? But I never found anything, and eventually I gave up on finding out. I didn't want to finally get my answer only to realize it was like everything else- Like the trucks of Oreos, like undersea exploration, like falling in love. Something that seemed to exist just to disappoint people naive enough to believe in it.\n\nToday was the first of the month, I'd guess. Haven't had a calendar for a long time, but the deliveries never fail. This time the package was placed neatly across a few sturdy branches of the tree I'd slept in, hoping to avoid the mess of trouble that had gone on below. I wasn't sure how I'd get down considering I'd messed up one of my legs pretty darn badly in the night's scuffle, but my package was close enough to reach from where I sat. Same little shipping label as always, though the address lines had been left blank since I stopped having an address.\n\nI opened it up. You think I'd be sick of them by now, but when times are rough you wouldn't believe how good that sugar tastes. Only, strange thing, there weren't so many in the package this time. Five was all, I was ten short. I considered that maybe wherever they came from was running out, or that something else had gotten to my supply before I had. Then I considered something else.\n\nA lifetime supply of Oreos.\n\nI guess this is my last one.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A new rule on Earth is made which allows everyone to legally kill 1 person in their life, this affects the world severely & changes how everybody acts." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "**DISCLAIMER: First time commenting, so I hope I have done this properly.**\n\n\"So, have you used yours yet?\"\n\nIt was the question that was on everyone's minds since the Law was introduced. Death and murder had left the realms of impolite conversation, ushering in a new type of small-talk that was, in essence, macabre. You could sit in even the quietest of restaurants and hear the Question over a dozen times through your meal. My record was 23 times in, perhaps, twice as many minutes. An impressive amount, I thought, but nothing to brag about. \n\nOf course, no one really bragged about anything anymore. Everyone was too scared, too worried that their swagger would provoke others to use the Law. The same had happened with almost all conversation, really. Everyone was polite, everyone was nice, and, most of all, everyone was quiet. It was a remarkable transformation from the busy, bustling society I had known all my life; in just a few months, the Law had created a world walking on egg-shells.\n\nExcept for the Question. No one shied away from it, no one blanched at it. Some even asked it with an excited grin, full of glee at the prospect of finding out someone's Silence. Some still saw any answer other than 'No' as an excuse to return to old habits, though many found themselves Silenced soon enough.\n\nThe first months of the Law had been complete and utter chaos. Old rivalries, feuds and petty squabbles were settled with a Silence, and the world was overcome with an unbounded paranoia. Homelessness was all but eradicated as Silences were used to 'clean the streets'. The gay community was near wiped out by the end of the second month. The entire world was caught in the cold, vice-like grip of fear.\n\nNot even world leaders were above the Law's reach, and by the end of the first month we were looking at a completely new global political stage. By the second month we were looking at an even newer one. Constant change became the norm as the old order was Silenced by the new, and the new Silenced by the newer.\n\nEven in the politeness and the cautiousness that followed, that chaos persists. The wealthy, for all their pomp and bought security, are Silenced almost daily, while the poor are Silenced for the simple fact of their existence. It is the elderly, surprisingly, who use their Silence the most, Silencing people almost arbitrarily so as not to waste the opportunity granted by the Law. Just the other day, in fact, I witnessed an old woman, clad in a thick tweed overcoat with an even thicker tartan scarf wrapped around her gaunt throat, Silence a man on the bus for refusing to give up his seat. He was disabled.\n\nThe newspapers are all saying the same thing now; the Law is growing out of control. People are seeing through the niceties of polite society that the Law had created, and using their Silence simply because they can. Chaos is coming back, and with it the deaths will rise.\n\nIf you are reading this, I have been Silenced. I have known it would come eventually. A stranger, a friend, a lover, an old woman on the bus. The Law has made killers of us all, and I can only hope that, in reading this, you see the Law as only a distant memory.\n\nAnd if not, if the Law still exists, if Silence still rules the world, I ask you; have you used yours yet?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In a future where many military and other equipment have associated AI's, many express doubts or even reservations to do their duty. Except for you. YOU F***ING LOVE BEING A TANK!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Want some?\"GT-731 said with a loud turning of gears. \"GET SOME!!!\"\n\n\"That's right, GT,\"Michael said. \"You show them who's boss.\"\n\nMichael eased back in the drivers seat and turned to the young man in the orange vest next to him. \"Anyway, what were we talking about?\"\n\n\"Uh... talking about where I should put the keys after turning off the AI.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah, once we get back to the depot, you can -\"\n\n\"YOU LINE EM UP!\"the projector on the dashboard interrupted. \"AND WHAT DO I DO?!?!\"\n\nMichael cleared his throat and replied, \"You knock them down.\"\n\n\"FUCK YEAH! YOU LINE EM UP AND I KNOCK EM DOWN!!!\"\n\n\"Look,\"Bill said, eyeing the monitor skeptically. \"I know I'm new here, but are all garbage trucks like this?\"\n\n\"Not exactly,\"Michael said, holding his hand over the microphone. \"GT-731 is one of the AI models they brought back after the war. See, he was initially programmed into an assault vehicle. We aren't allowed to know much about his back history except that we think he used to be-\"\n\n\"TANK SQUAD!\"GT-731 bellowed, wrapping its metal pincers around a recycling bin. \"YOU SEEING THIS? LOOKS LIKE I JUST FOUND ANOTHER VICTIM!\"\n\n\"So he still thinks he's a tank?\"Bill asked.\n\n\"Certainly seems that way. Sometimes he calls me 'Bradley.' I think that was one of the guys that worked inside the tank.\"\n\n\"Is that moral for you to lie to him?\"\n\n\"Maybe... maybe not. I'm a garbage man, not a philosopher. Regardless, this AI here is the most effective one we've got. He certainly gets a helluva lot more job satisfaction than most of our human employees. Besides, some of those AIs that came back from the war came back different. I guess the war affected them, too.\"\n\n\"Like PTSD?\"Bill asked. \"Is that possible for an AI to be traumatized? Are they capable of being... unhappy?\"\n\n\"I couldn't tell ya. The only thing I know for certain,\"Michael said as the AI hooted and hollered, \"is that they're certainly capable of being happy.\"\n\n***\n\n(Insert shameless plug for personal subreddit here: /r/thisstorywillsuck)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Everyone is born with 1-100 tally marks tattooed on their arm. The higher your number, the more valuable you are and the more successful you will be. You bully a kid because he is obviously hiding a low score. One day, he rolls up his sleeve to show an infinity symbol." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am a 96.\n\n\nMy score, determined by a sophisticated AI and tattooed onto my arm at birth, gave me the license to do almost anything with my life. When you have more potential than 95% of the population, with a standard deviation of 2%, nobody questions you.\n\n\nThat score, known as a \"potentiality index\", isn't just for intellectual intelligence. It integrates genetic propensity for emotional and physical intelligence as well.\n\n\nI didn't have to study for tests. I was the star of the basketball team. I won arguments easily, tripping up my opponent with logical games and by playing to the crowd. Sure, if I got into an debate with an 80 percenter who had actually studied the topic, they might be a threat. But I could always pull the \"what's your score again?\"line, and they'd usually shut up and the crowd would give me the benefit of the doubt. I was untouchable.\n\n\nBut that was before Ian.\n\n\nHe kept his arm covered; not uncommon for those in the lower quartile. He was also quiet. I chalked that up to him saving himself the embarrassment of talking.\n\n\nI almost felt bad for him on the first day of our engineering class. Poor kid would be out of his depth, I thought.\n\n\n40% of our grade was based on the final team project: making a battlebot that would compete against other teams' batlebots. The other 3 students assigned to my team had a combined score of less than 80, probably to counterbalance my own capability.\n\n\nIn our first team meeting, it took me almost 5 minutes to put them in their place. They kept babbling about their ideas for the battlebot. \"Flamethrower\"this, and \"electric saw\"that. But once I rolled up my sleeve to show my 96 tick marks, they shut up pretty quick.\n\n\nLooking over at Ian's group, I noticed he seemed too stupid to talk much. He kept listening to others on his team, nodding or asking simple questions. They oriented toward him, seeming to trust him to guide the conversation. Probably because they didn't have anyone better in the group. After all, I wasn't in it.\n\n\nOur team, meaning myself, went for a high power laser design with an optical setup to focus the beam to a high enough intensity to cut through metal.\n\n\nOn the last day of class, the battles commenced.\n\n\nThe first three battles were easy. Once our bot got in range for its laser to work, all one had to do was press a button and the other bot exploded. It was so simple that anyone of my team could have executed the maneuver; not that I trusted any of them at the controls of course.\n\n\nI didn't notice that Ian's team had made it to the finals until I saw them across the ring. As their bot advanced, I noticed it had both a flamethrower and a circular saw. Talk about uninspired!\n\n\nI maneuvered my bot in range, pressed the laser button... and my bot exploded.\n\n\nI stood in stunned silence as the trophy was awarded to Ian and his team. As they walked toward the exit, congratulating each other, my feet carried me forward.\n\n\n\"Ian!\"My voice was hoarse in my throat.\n\n\nHe turned, and motioned his group to go on.\n\n\n\"How did you do that? How did you win?\"I asked, trying not to let the desperation show in my voice.\n\n\n\"Oh, it was one of Lindsey's ideas actually.\"he said in an offhand way. \"We placed a high quality mirror behind the front plating, to reflect any laser that an opponent might use. You know, if they went for a generic laser build\".\n\n\n\"Oh...\"I said. \"So it wasn't one of your ideas.\"\n\n\n\"Nope,\"he admitted easily. \"I helped sift through the ideas everyone came up with. The mirror seemed like a pretty inexpensive contingency, so we went for it.\"\n\n\n\"So, it's not like you are some genius.\"I ventured.\n\n\n\"No,\"he laughed, \"certainly not\". He turned to walk off.\n\n\n\"What's your score?\"I asked.\n\n\nSelf consciously, he turned back to face me and tugged his sleeve farther down. \"You know I don't share that.\"\n\n\n\"Please! I have to know!\"I cried desperately, grabbing his arm and pulling his sleeve up.\n\n\nA \"∞\"infinity sign was printed neatly on his arm.\n\n\n\"What does it mean?\"I gasped. \"Nobody can have infinite intelligence.\"\n\n\nIan straightened up, and calmly tugged his sleeve back down.\n\n\n\"No, I'm not infinitely smart.\"Ian admitted easily. \"But I do listen to others, and they trust me. Our bot was the product of all of our ideas offered freely, carefully refined by objective discussion. As my score indicates, I am not bounded by my own intelligence; I make myself better from those around me.\"\n\n\n\"After all,\"he called back as he walked away, leaving me alone in an empty classroom. \"Infinity isn't a number, it is a direction without bound. But I assume you already know that definition, given you are a 96 percenter after all...\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "On one hand, you're average at everything. On the other hand, you're average at EVERYTHING." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It only took about fifteen minutes worth of conversation for them to figure out I didn't belong here. They always did, no exceptions. Gallas, symposiums, conventions, it didn't matter. It eventually became apparent I was an interloper. Not a true member of the group. That was, until someone started dancing. Or flair bartending. Or on the off chance there was an instrument lying around. In truth my near endless stream of hidden talents always won me acceptance. From the dignitaries, scientists, and Titans of industry at these things. It didn't matter that I only had a shallow working knowledge of their craft. I was fun. \n\nThat's how I did it. How I transformed from being just OK at business and networking into a million dollar company. Of course I hired someone great to manage it. And then I invented something. It was pretty good. Of course I had a great team to finish the R&D phase and perfect it. Then came the marketing. I did a decent job of getting it to store shelves, but my marketing team is the best hands down. \n\nSee, I'm just pretty good at this whole \"business\"thing. But I'm also pretty good at finding people better than me to do it. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You were warned that your newest crew member, a \"Human\", had vastly different biology from all other known races. This mad made very clear when they drank all of the galaxy's strongest known poison, saying that they \"needed a drink of water.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We were warned, about taking aboard a human crewmember. Something about them having an odd biology, different from all known life. But they had the credentials we needed for an engineer that could work in high-heat environments for prolonged periods of time. Didn't think much of the squat little thing when they introduced themselves. Can't even tell whether it is a male or a female. Maybe they're hermaphrodites, that's pretty rare, but the environment-suit it wore hid all details that might have betrayed its nature to us.\n\nThey were polite, quiet, and dutiful. Never complaining, only interested in working and hanging out in that biosphere it packed in one of the hangars. Saying it needed a small contained environment like its home, which is rare, but not unheard of. Possibly it breathes an unusual gas like argon or pure helium or something, who knows. If anything, it seemed the least weird crewmember, considering the sort of lifeforms I've worked with before. At least this one doesn't seem to drip corrosive acid everywhere or requires to mate once every rotation or it explodes. \n\nBut I finally found out what made human biology so unusual, when some of the other crewmembers wanted to invite the human to a game of Paradox-Vostroyan Draw. The human cautiously accepted, and it went fairly well, until they opened a bag and revealed a pressurized container with the words Di-hydrogen Monoxide on it. Water. One of the single most dangerous, toxic, and poisonous substances in the universe. The human didn't notice, but we were all struck with fear, and worse, when they replaced a similar container on their environment suit, and through the suit's tinny speaker, came the voice of the human, saying. ''*Ah, lovely, really needed a drink of water there.*'' The human wasn't charging a weapon. They weren't going to suddenly poison us. The human was drinking water.\n\nI had to ask. If I did not, somebody else might have, and they'd have been less subtle. ''*Need a drink often?*'' The human shrugged. ''*Yeah, it slakes my thirst. Prefer some alcohol personally, but water is better to keep the head clear during a game.*'' Alcohol, another high toxic substance. Suddenly, the crew were a lot more quiet, but the human didn't notice much.\n\nWe all played nice, even if we were sweating ammonia or hydrogen fluoride. But afterwards, the crew treated the human very carefully. And me, as the captain I decided to look into what the human was replicating. To my immediate shock and horror, the human was consuming not only high amounts of water, but also alcohol, and though they had special dispensation codes, they were also eating capsaicin-infused dust on their food. A class-3 chemical weapon.\n\nWorried, I looked up human biology, and found that the more I understood, the more distressed I became. Natural production of combat drugs, a lifeform with water as its primary solvent, only previously thought theoretically possible, immunity to most chemical and biological weapons, and to top it off they breathe oxygen, a dangerous flame-feeding gas.\n\nAnd yet this being, completely and utterly poisonous to all known forms of life, was merely fixing power couplings, or testing plasma injectors. So I told the rest of the crew while the human was sleeping, just to play nice, and to not under any circumstances bother the human. Most agreed. But unfortunately, some idiots never listen. Not even under threat. So when they tried to slice open the human's little biosphere, which served as their quarters, they were met with the burning heat of the human's warm planet, and with dangerous toxic water.\n\nI still see their corpses when I close all my eyes. Distorted, scalded, partially melted. I had to sent them home in sealed coffins. The rest of the trip was very silent. The human said nothing, only kept working, and the crew stayed clear of them. Not wanting to experience the horrible death that their compatriots had suffered. When we finally got to port, the human was paid, just like the rest of us did, and then they left without a word, trying to secure passage on a cruiser full of silicate lifeforms. I had a quiet word with their captain, warning them that the human had an unusual biology, vastly different. I could have told them the truth, but who'd have believed me? A species that drinks and consists of, the most deadliest poison known in the universe. Nobody'd ever believe it if they didn't look it up themselves, and even then. Truth is stranger than fiction, and the truth is that there is a race of extremely warm, poisonous beings that eat chemical weapons.\n\n[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "People earn karma points while alive. When they die, they can spend them either to enter a better afterlife, or to improve the life of some random stranger born on the day of their death. You donate all your points, and wake up the next day as the baby who would have gotten your points." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When I was nine years old, I pulled my baby sister’s body out of the swimming pool. Mom was taking a nap, and Dad was off at work. They’d told me to keep an eye on the baby after a long, sleepless night of unexplained crying. But I was too cool for babysitting. I’d been busy playing with my toys. I hadn’t been watching.\n\nWhen I found her, she was already gone. I don’t like to think about what happened next, about Mom’s reaction, about the hospital, about the prayers and screaming and pleasepleaseplease bring her back, about Dad coming home, about the days after. \n\nI spent the rest of my life trying to make things right. I gave to charity, I volunteered every weekend, I became a doctor, and I went to the poorest places of the world to heal people with no one else to turn to. But it never made a difference, not where it mattered. After death, it came time to use my karma. I gave it away. Maybe then I would finally get the punishment I had earned.\n\nIt took almost a year after being reborn before my infant mind could comprehend what was going on, that I had been remade. But I still did not understand. My parents were here, looking as young and harried as they had when I was a child. And I had an older sibling…an older sibling who looked just like my childhood pictures. An older sibling with my name.\n\nWhen I finally recognized my new face and knew that I’d been reborn into my doomed baby sister, I cried all night. I was so afraid, but this truly was the penance I deserved. The next day, after my Dad had gone to work and my Mom had gone to bed, I went out to the pool. It was my sister’s retribution, to experience the death my carelessness had caused. Maybe then I would finally be free.\n\nI reached the water’s edge. \n\nI leaned over.\n\n“Lizzie!”\n\nWarm hands, so much bigger and stronger than mine, wrapped around my tiny body and pulled me back. It was me, the other me.\n\n“Hey, you’re not supposed to be out here,” said the other me, carrying Lizzie-me back inside. “Come on, you can play with my toys if you don’t slobber on them too much.”\n\nI didn’t understand. I deserved death. I deserved to drown. I deserved…\n\n“You’re a real pain in the butt sometimes,” said the other me, setting Lizzie-me down in the living room. “But you’re my little sister, so I have to look out for you.”\n\nOther me smiled, and I looked down at my pudgy hands.\n\nI deserved…\n\nThe other me put a stuffed animal in my lap and went to gather more toys. I looked back to the pool, the still open door.\n\nI deserved…\n\nI looked away and wrapped my arms around the toy unicorn, Lizzie’s favorite. My favorite.\n\nI deserved a second chance.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In the near future, you are making dinner because you are about to meet your girlfriend's dad for the first time. All you have in the kitchen is cooked frozen steaks. In walks your girlfriend and her dad, Gordon Ramsey." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So you honestly had no idea at all?\"Ramsey asked me, surprised. I have never followed news about celebrities and I've never asked my girlfriend \"Are you THAT Ramsey?\"I thought it would be silly. Probably have heard that a dozen of times, so I said nothing.\n\n\"No, I really had no idea.\"Awkward silence fell between us. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen for a while, looking at me.\n\n\"So...\"I broke the silence and turned to the table. \"What you think of the steak?\"I asked.\n\n\"It was bought frozen, right?\"he looked into my eyes.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"It is thawed. The steak is thawed.\"I'm not a man that can be intimidated easily, but something about this whole thing gave me the creeps. A strange man he is.\n\n\"I mean, not everyone can be a good cook.\"I stuttered.\n\n\"Oh no, that isn't a problem. Listen, not everyone can be a good cook and it would be absolutely moronic to expect anything different. I did not come here to eat great cuisine and you know that. I came here because this is my kitchen. But that, right now, is neither here nor there. Each has their own strengths and yours is not cooking.\"\n\nI finally felt relieved. Turned out that his anger and rage is all for show. But, still, for some reason he did not look entirely happy.\n\n\"Well, that is right.\"I agreed. \"But you still are frowning. I mean, I'm a great...\"and there he interrupted me.\n\n\"A great scum is what you are! God damn, man! Matilda is just 16 years old! And how old are you? Like, thirty? What the fuck? What is your problem you absolute wanker? And I catch you in my kitchen at three am cooking steaks? Scraping my pans with a metal spatula? Using my spices? I give you three seconds to get out or there will be idiot-casserole for breakfast!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are God. You just logged on to one of your old saves, and you’re confused as to where those massive lizards went and where all these pink fuckers came from." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He opened his old \"Terra' save, only to find His delicately crafted creatures gone. The massive dinoasaurs He had so carefully curated were missing, and in their place were some sort of strange, fleshy, inefficient creatures with no badass tails. This, understandably, made God curious. He check the log of events, but the log went too far back for him to understand the fate of His prized virtual companions.\n\n\"What the hell?\"God said. He wanted to know what happened, but He had no clue how to find out. So He created a new character. The game had evidently adjusted itself, as His old character, the Megalodon, was no longer available, and apparently He was forced into a small variety of starter classes. He chose the fleshy one, the one that was so unattractive and disgusting.\n\nStrangely, He did not arrive at the character customization screen, but instead began in a manger, surrounded by NPCs of the same strange race. He didn't recognize any of the animals, they were all furry, not scaly.\n\nThe kind, dark face of a female NPC watched his character intently, looking for a sign. God accessed the source code, and saw that He didn't recognize the algorithms running in the entire world, let alone this one AI. The world He had created Himself had wrested itself away from Him.\n\nGod shrugged. He played through, and as He learned more about the new culture of these \"humans,\"He learned more about how to enjoy Himself. This game, after all, was far more complex than the simple action game Terra used to be. He began to modify the source code to give His character admin powers.\n\nHe turned a stack of water into a stack of wine by using the mod window, then, ten minutes later, He rezzed an NPC he felt a particular affinity towards. His legend grew among the people of the game, and He began to call his character \"Son of God.\"This infuriated some of the enemy NPCs, but He assumed that was the game trying to throw a challenge his way.\n\nLittle by little, God noticed that when he left his game, whenever he came back Son of God would change. The beard would grow, he would have gained more followers, made more enemies. The game appeared to be adapting to His frequent absence of controlling Son of God. This, while slightly disturbing to Him, didn't concern Him too much until the fateful day.\n\nGod had grown bored. There was no easy way to traverse outside of the starting area, and He quickly grew tired of the same landscape, over and over. He opened the mod window, and programmed one of Son of God's followers to have the new \"betrayer\"trait. Sure enough, Son of God was betrayed to the enemy NPCs.\n\nGod left the monitor, curious to see the outcome.\n\nWhen He came back, Son of God was gruesomely pinned to a wooden cross. God was shocked, and observed the game with morbid curiosity. The game had decided on this awful punishment, without God's prompting. He sat back.\n\nThen, Son of God looked at the monitor.\n\n\"Why, God, have you forsaken me?\"he said, tears mixing with blood on his dirt covered face.\n\nGod, so shocked, turned off the computer.\n\nHe took three days before He gathered the courage to turn the computer back on. When He did, the Son of God character file had been deleted. Feeling merciful, God found the source code, and retrieved His character file. He had grown attached to these fleshy meat sacks, and wanted to see Son of God's story through. When Son of God awoke, he phased through the dungeon his corpse had died in. God watched as Son of God guided Himself through the world, giving news of his return and praising God for His mercy.\n\nThen, when God felt it was time to go, He deleted Son of God's character file once more, and watched as the Son of God gave a bittersweet smile, and faded away.\n\nGod turned off the computer. He decided to come back in another 1,000 years, just to see what Terra could cook up next. Terra was a game to Him after all, not His priority.\n\n\n\n----------\n\n\nHey guys, if you liked this enough that you want to read more of my work, check out www.willswritingprompts.blogspot.com, where I archive all of my favorite writing prompts, especially ones without this much attention. Thanks!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you, intentionally or otherwise. You are fighting in a war, when one of the enemy's knives harmlessly glances off you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kindred souls were rarer than rubies in a pigsty, and just as shocking when you found them. I'd only met a dozen or so bonded pairs, marked by their inability to harm one another. Some strong pairs were also said to feel warmth and contentment when in close proximity to their other half. They came in all kinds: friends, lovers, blood-brothers, found family. Whatever you wanted to call them, they were the same thing. Soulmates.\n\nSo when the enemy's blade slid harmlessly across my cheek, no more painful than if he'd struck me with a piece of straw, I hesitated. So did he. I recovered first, my reluctance at the thought of attacking my soulmate drowned out by the sheer impossibility of it. He couldn't be. Fate couldn't be that cruel.\n\nMy blade bit into his throat, coming away red, and my relief made my knees go weak. It was a mistake. It had to be. He just hadn't struck hard enough. That was all.\n\nThe next enemy soldier caught me by surprise as I touched my cheek, too distracted and unaware of my surroundings. His mace struck me straight in the chest, caving my armor and sending me flying back. I hit the ground, expecting the agony of broken ribs.\n\nBut there was no pain.\n\nI killed this soldier too. And the next. And the next. As one, their blows did not hurt me. I couldn't understand. How? Why?\n\nI fought with all of my strength, but eventually our position was overrun. We were captured while I remained unscathed. The soldiers dragged us, bound and disarmed to their camp.\n\nI still did not understand.\n\nAt least, not until we were lined up, and the general walked down the line to inspect us, his prisoners of war. As he passed me, our eyes met, his apathetic and mine terrified. \n\nI felt it. \n\nHis step hitched, and I knew he felt it too.\n\nWarmth blooming in my chest.\n*****\nr/Kathiana\nedit: Edited slightly for clarity." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Humans are the first sentients, putting us millenia ahead of aliens. Instead of acting like an \"elder\"species should, we create mysterious artifacts with no actual use, crop cicles and send spooky messages, like \"be quiet, you are in danger\"to the aliens, because we are still childish morons." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Zulth had believed in humans for as long as he could remember. Theories of them had been around for decades, of course, but only with recent advances in radio telescopes had their existence been all but proved. \n\nThe first patterns came through just fifty solar cycles ago. 26 unique patterns. A codex? A language? A password? Scholars had puzzled over the patterns for decades. Some argued that they were simply binary stars in eccentric orbits, but these held little weight when the repetition of the pattern continued unabated with no error or ‘eccentricity’. \n\nThen, thirty years, a breakthrough. A message, left overnight in rural Rhiuu’th, in the middle of a large, flat tors field. The symbols meant nothing by themselves, and could have been explained by local pranksters. But soon other, similar but definably different messages appeared across the globe. That, as we say, was all there needed to be. Soon the patterns became linked to the shapes and a language was born. A method of communication. \n\nThe problem; the truly infuriating thing; the thing that really, really frustrates the minds, is that we are still not advanced enough to send up our own response. Where would we even send it to? And how long would it take to arrive? Would this mega species still exist? Would they still care. Well, yes. They would. \n\nAnd we can prove it. \n\nJust 5 short solar cycles ago a message came through, as if answering our cries of impatience with omnipotent clarity. The message is repeated hourly, and has permeated our culture. It drives us. It helps us retain our ambition and our scope. We repeat it as a mantra, hourly. A planetary obsession, if you will. \n\nWe know they will wait for us. They have told us as much. For they tell us, and we tell ourselves;\n\n“Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down...”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Every intelligent, skilled or rich human has been evacuated from the Earth to avoid the alien invasion. This leaves the dregs, criminals and the poor behind on Earth to fend for themselves. Centuries later, the other return to \"liberate\"Earth only to find that they have won and prospered." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You're not welcome here, you need to leave,\"Ricardo said through the translator. A mixture of twelve men and women stood behind him dressed in an assortment of clothing. They looked bored with the whole thing.\n\n\"What?\"Commander Ellison Hart asked in confusion, \"We have spent three centuries rebuilding and preparing to liberate you.\"Behind her was a platoon of the Liberation Force's finest soldiers dressed in all manner of smart cybernetic armor.\n\n\"You abandoned us,\"he answered with a shrug, \"You took everything you thought was of value with you. You left us with nothing, not even food. Do you know how many people starved that first winter?\"\n\n\"We were losing the war!\"Hart shouted, \"We created the wormhole to Delta Sigma 6 and spent the last three centuries building a military force to return. You were never forgotten. We always had plans to return for you.\"The last was a lie as they didn't expect to find any survivors.\n\n\"How touching,\"one of the women behind Ricardo said then added, \"That did a lot of good to my great, great, great grandparents as you left them the choice of being dissolved into a nutrient paste by the Inralldi or slowly die to lack of basic materials. This was all caused by you stealing everything. You're filthy thieves.\"\n\n\"Thieves? Us?\"a man in a general's outfit behind Hart angrily retorted before she can stop him, \"Everyone of value was taken in the evacuation. That says a lot about who you were descended from. We just left the criminals and scu...\"\n\n\"Quiet!\"Hart ordered him but she could see the native Earther's were rankled by this. She reminded herself to bust him back down to private later, \"I apologize for that outburst.\"\n\n\"Commander, a moment,\"someone said behind her and the negotiations paused for the moment, both sides eyeing one another warily. She approached Major Laurens who was in charge of intel, \"Our drones indicate that the Nearthers, native earthers that is, are six billion strong. The population three hundred years ago was just under a billion so they've been having some fun. Sorry, sir.\"He said when he noticed her frown. She nodded for him to continue, \"Agriculture is their main focus followed by specialized production through three dimensional printing. Each home seems to have one to meet all their needs. They are really quite advanced in...\"\n\n\"So no threat?\"Hart asked him.\n\n\"None that I can see,\"he stated flatly then began to ask but was cut off, \"But how did they defeat the...\"\n\n\"Attention delegates,\"Hart shouted and everyone gathered around, \"In the light of recent intel I'll make this simple.\"She turned to Ricardo and the group of survivors and smiled coldly, \"In orbit around this planet are about sixty thousand ships of all shapes and sizes. If I give the order the surface of this planet can be scoured of all life to a depth of about six feet below the topsoil level. I want you to remember this as we continue negotiations.\"\n\n\"Are you threatening us?\"Ricardo asked icily. She noticed dangerous smiles playing on the faces of those around him and felt a sudden feeling of panic which she fought down. Hart could feel weapons being primed through mind-links behind her and gave a mental order to stand down.\n\n\"No,\"she answered, \"I am simply stating the facts. You may have defeated the Inralldi but our force was designed to have a 99.8% chance of victory against them. I am just saying that we are back and we want half the planet returned to us. You can safely live on your...\"\n\n\"Half the planet?\"Ricardo laughed, \"You ran like cowards across the stars to lick your wounds and tell each other to be brave while you prayed the Inralldi wouldn't chase you. You left our ancestors to die and now you return with demands? You have no right to make demands. You have made a grave error today, cowards.\"\n\n\"Ricardo, be reasonable,\"Hart stated, giving the mental order to set weapons to stun and ordering the fleet to get ready to give a non-lethal show of force, \"We hold all the cards.\"\n\n\"Commander,\"Ricardo said spitting out her title as if it were acid on his tongue, \"Your error, hell our error, was in thinking the Inralldi were here to destroy the Earth. You thought they were here to make meals of us. They seemed to be a mindless, purposeless race of alien blobs that dropped from the skies and turned humans into goo.\"\n\n\"They were,\"Hart said simply, \"How did you stop them? We need this intel in case we ever run into them again - for humanity's sake!\"\n\n\"We didn't.\"Ricardo said and with these two words weapons primed both in the soldiers around Hart and in the ships orbiting above her, \"They were an entity sent here to discover our biology. They dissolved us and took us into themselves not to eat but to study. Their mission was not to destroy - their mission was to Uplift. To remake us for maximum survival.\"\n\nHer mind-link suddenly went berserk with orbital chatter. Millions of blobs were attaching themselves to and breaching the fleet above them.\n\n\"You've betrayed us,\"Hart told him simply, lifting her rifle as they were suddenly surrounded by thousands of \"uplifted\"humans, \"You've betrayed humanity!\"\n\n\"We *are* humanity,\"Ricardo said, \"The new humanity. You see, you fear they changed the way we think but they did not. They left us our free will to do what we want within the new bodies they molded for us. We are no more alien than you are, Commander. You, however, represent the very worst of us. You are the great betrayers. You are the cowards. *You* are the dregs of humanity that fled across space with your tails between your legs when you should have stood and fought beside us. You left a billion to starve or die always trying to convince yourselves it was necessary. Remember, I told you to leave - running away is something you are infinitely good at. You have no place in the new universal order.\"\n\nNo more words were said as the battle started." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The genie snaps his fingers, and you instantly know your wish is granted. Omnipotence. That's what you had asked for, and now you have it. You know everything, and are infinitely powerful. You instantly notice something unexpected. There is another God, and he is terrified." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Planets suspended in nothingness, stars blinking in and out of existence. This truly is *space.* When I clench my fists together, taking a deep breath, I *feel* my power. It’s greater than I ever imagined.\n\t\nMy mind's racing with all the secrets of the universe, so I silence it by clapping, creating a planet. It’s absolutely massive, something to rival Jupiter, and when I flick it, the thing explodes, sending shards of rock flying everywhere. They phase through me, I don’t even feel them. I press my hands to my head, laughing. I probably look like a maniac, but doubt anyone can comprehend this form. This strength’s *godly.* That’s true, isn’t it? I’m a god!\n\t\nThere’s a shriek from behind me.\n\t\nI turn around, and there’s a man standing in front of Earth, striking an awkward pose, pieces of rock poking out all over him. He’s got a hunchback with a huge backpack on it, long white beard which hangs down to his toes, and teeny-tiny ears. His smile’s friendly, but he looks terrified, eyes wide.\n\t\nHoly shit, it’s God.\n\t\nHe created me, right? His power…it must be insane. I need to bow before him, need to pray and thank him.\n\t\nWhen I start walking forward, he drops onto his knees, holding his hands up. “Please!” he begs. “Stay away!”\n\t\nI stop, staring at him. Objects are spilling out of his backpack—bridges, skyscrapers, cars. Picking one up, I examine it, amazed by it’s beauty, amazed by its detail. He’s still cowering before me, but I hold my hand out.\n\t\n“I’m sorry if I scared you,” I say. “This power, it’s still new to me. Am I stronger than you?”\n\t\nGod seems tepid, and instead of shaking my hand, hastily scoops the pieces back into his backpack before standing up. He takes a few steps back, getting between me and Earth. Does he fear I’m going to…destroy it?\n\t\n“This is my pride, my joy,” he says. “I’ve spent billions of years building it, billions of years watching my planet grow! I don’t know who you are, but I won’t let you destroy it.”\n\nHe's trying to intimidate me, but his legs are shaking. He's terrified.\n\t\nReaching out, I press my palm flat against his head and he cowers again. His strength’s flowing into me, and to my surprise, I’m *far* stronger than him. We stare at each other for a few minutes, and the look in his eyes, the pure love of Earth, pure fear of it being destroyed—it’s enough to make me feel bad for even scaring him.\n\t\nI get it. The backpack. To him, this is almost like a model. He’s putting together one giant set and it’s called Earth. If he places a bridge, the people will build a bridge. If he places a tower, they will build a tower. I chuckle at the idea. I never thought God would be like this.\n\t\n“Why did you never build on any of the other planets?”\n\t\n“I’ve not enough power, nor time. Maybe one day I’ll finish this, and be able to move on—but for now…”\n\t\nAs I stare at him, I toss a selfless idea around. It makes me sad, but now that I’ve had it I won’t be able to get it out of my head. Looking around, I take one last gander at all the planets, at their beauty. It was worth it just to see them up close.\n\t\nHis eyes light up when I start giving him my energy, and he looks at me, confused. “What are you—”\n\t\n“I’m no god,” I mumble. “Heck, literally the first thing I did with my powers was destroy. I feel like they would fare better in your hands. Maybe now you’ll be able to build more.”\n\t\nGod chuckles, reaching out and putting a hand on my shoulder. I can feel my body fading away, as he’s teleporting me back onto Earth. He’s smiling like a proud dad, and I smile back. Omnipotence isn’t for everyone, for I would’ve grown bored with the loneliness. But I guess he isn’t lonely, is he?\n\t\n“Thank you,” he says. “I think I’ll start on Mars next, since you all seem to be so fascinated by it.”\n***\nHope this turned out okay! If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Being a hero means not going around making sure everyone knows you're a hero. It means you don't wear a bright flashy outfit, you don't pose for the cameras, and you don't go around telling everyone who you are.\n\nIt also means that sometimes, you have to be willing to do things that others won't. Sometimes it means that you have to do things that will make you hated. Because what you do is more important than your reputation, it's more important than recognition... it's more important than *you*.\n\nWhat I'm about to do, most would call murder. But they don't see what I see. I see someone who calls himself a hero when he's anything but. He's the sort to wear the bright colors, to pose for every photo op, he even has a fan club for kids. For *kids*. But I've seen what he's like when he thinks no one is looking, how he takes joy in hobbling and suffocating innocent people. He has killed more people than any of these so-called \"villains\"he fights. And he needs to be stopped, even if it means being despised for it. That's what a *real* hero would do.\n\nHe calls himself Captain Justice. I know who he really is. Bradley Evans. Captain of his high school football team, valedictorian, sociopath. Always excelled, always succeeded at life, often at the expense of others, people he stepped on or crushed to get ahead in life. Now he's moved on from stepping on classmates to stepping on the good people of this city. No more.\n\nI open the door to his house, lock easily picked. He doesn't have any security system, no guard dog. Why would he need one? He's Captain Justice, and he thinks he's invincible. But every man needs to sleep.\n\nI find his bedroom, with him in his bed. Good. I can make this quick, easy. I bring out my knife. Not a steel knife, mind you, but a ceramic one. I've studied the man enough to see that steel won't pierce his skin, but for some reason, he was cut by a thrown flowerpot on one occasion. Evidently ceramic is some sort of weakness of his. Don't know why.\n\nAs I approach, his eyes open. Damn that super-hearing of his. He lays eyes on me approaching, and speaks not a word. He doesn't ask why I'm here, doesn't give me any \"heroic\"warning, just gets into a fighting stance. Ah well, not so easy after all. Well, if I should die in this fight, so be it.\n\nHe punches toward me with a speed and strength that could shatter bone. I dodge to the side, barely evading him. He reaches for my throat and I jump back, a mere fraction of a second before his fist closes shut with a force that could have instantly crushed my windpipe. Our dance goes on like this, with him attacking and me evading, but I know that I can't keep doing this. If I'm on the defensive, I have to be lucky every time, and he only needs to be lucky once. I need to go on the offense.\n\nI thrust my knife at him, misjudging the distance to him and missing him by inches. He responds with a smirk, seeing the knife and finding it amusing. He then reaches his fist back for a punch and I'm overextended, some part of me knows I can't dodge in time. In desperation, I fall forward, knife held above me.\n\nIt plunges deep into his neck.\n\nFor a moment, we two are frozen there. I am terrified that any movement will spur him to act, that if he even thinks for a single second, this terrible man will surely reach out and end me. But perhaps there is some greater power looking over me, because he does no such thing. He only slumps over backward, wheezing as he struggles for breath.\n\nI don't have any sort of killer ironic line to drop on him at this point, no pithy catchphrase. He may have been a monster, but he was also a man, and no man's death deserves to be treated lightly, even one so terrible as this.\n\nRather than make him suffer, I withdrew the knife from his neck and plunged it into his ear, skewering his brain. His wheezing stopped and he fell silent. I removed my knife and went to the sink to cleanse it, making sure not to leave any fingerprints or any other indication of who I am.\n\nI could breathe again. This nightmare was over. True, there were other nightmares to face, but that could wait until tomorrow. For tonight, I could sleep well, knowing that this man would never again be a blight on this city, never again would he hobble them by doing for them things they should find the capacity to do for themselves, never again would he suffocate them by treating them as a master treats a pet, protecting them and scolding them whenever they do wrong, instead of treating them like men, capable of learning and growing and standing on their own two feet.\n\nTomorrow, the city will wake, and there will be no more Captain Justice, and everyone can begin the healing process, no longer looking to the skies for someone to save them, but looking within themselves. I expect no thanks for this deed. I expect to be hated. But a true hero doesn't care what others think. He only cares that he has made the world a better place.\n\n\n---------------------\n\nThank you for reading! If you're interested in reading more of my works, please check out [this page](https://old.reddit.com/r/CaspianX2/)." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The inevitable Flappy Bird Movie has been greenlit, and you, a struggling screenwriter, have been given the opportunity to pen the script. Everyone expects the movie to tank, taking your career with it. You, however, have a plot idea that will turn the film into a masterpiece." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The idea was as dumb as it was stupid. Making a movie out of a game like this was on par with… well, there was no real equivalent to this idiocy. It was like the entire Creativity Department in Hollywood had gone on a coffee break and returned to find the worst possible idea in a golden envelope glued with epoxy to the brainstorm-whiteboard.\n\nAnd even though everyone agreed that the idea would kill a fatal amount of brain cells of any potential viewer, the thing was put into motion.\n\nThe call came on a Monday morning at 5 AM. I felt like killing myself when I answered it in my sleep drunk state.\n\n“The fuck do you want?”\n\n“Congratulations, Flappy Bird is yours, enjoy your early grave,” my agent said and hung up.\n\nI rolled off my bed, brewed a cup, and started up the laptop. After writing the first few lines, I spilled my coffee over the computer. It wasn’t by accident – fact was I’d been wondering if I could use the power cord as a noose ever since I started writing. I had to put an end to it.\n\n I took out my pen and started writing the old fashioned way. But after about fifty balls of crumpled paper, I’d had enough. I couldn’t for the life of me come up with anything good.\n\nInstead, I started up my phone and leaned back on the sofa. I needed inspiration. I did what I always do when I’m out of ideas – I went to *the place* – the holy well of ideas. I felt disgusted for soiling it with this utterly disgusting idea, but finally, I put my career first and typed down the infernal words and pressed enter:\n\n* The inevitable Flappy Bird Movie has been greenlit, and you, a struggling screenwriter, have been given the opportunity to pen the script. Everyone expects the movie to tank, taking your career with it. You, however, have a plot idea that will turn the film into a masterpiece.*\n\n****\nIf you liked this one, you'll probably hate the stuff I usually write... so why am I even bothering... oh well, this is a weird prompt. r/Lilwa_Dexel\n\nEDIT:\n\nReddit, please. Why would you gild this? Oh, god... (thanks, though!)\n\nEDIT:\n\nGreat, another gold, thanks. \n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Part 1 | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7i53fr/reaper_part_2/) | [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7iavci/reaper_part_3/) | [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7iokx3/reaper_part_4/)\n\n---\n\nI wouldn’t call it a war. Extermination maybe. Though I’d more aptly describe it as a harvest. By the time they reached our world and penetrated the stratosphere, people sought them out in droves to be harvested. Of course, they knew what that actually meant. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been so eager.\n\nTen years before the *Angels* descended from the sky, they had already sent what some referred to as divine retribution: a virus. Though this virus in particular only targeted women. It spread faster than a wildfire and had a 100% mortality rate. Worse yet, it was completely undetectable. In our desperation, we became animals. We locked our wives, daughters, and mothers deep underground under the constant shine of UV radiation and still they got infected. Within five years, the last woman had died leaving the rest of humanity to slowly die with her.\n\nBy the time they arrived, we welcomed them with open arms into every one of our major cities. Most bowed their heads and practically begged to be killed. Some fought against them. These were the ones that still remembered the pain of watching their daughters, wives, and mothers die. They couldn’t hope to survive, but at least they could enact their own version of divine retribution.\n\nLooking back at it now, I know that the *Angels* planned for them. They wanted us to retaliate. Otherwise, where would be the fun? Men charged at them by the millions. Some to die. Some to kill. To the *Angels*, it was all the same.\n\nUntil we killed the first one.\n\nBack when I used to write, I always made sure to name my hero something memorable. If not a strange name, then certainly a strange title. Evan the Incorruptible. Matthew the Harbinger. But in real life, heroes rarely have titles, some don’t even have names. That was the case for humanity’s last hero because nobody knew who he was.\n\nWe had only stories. The stories ranged from fantastical to downright fiction, but they always ended the same. We had killed one. The *Angels* must’ve been as skeptical as we were because they refused to change their tactics. They kept all our major cities and welcomed anyone to try and take it back.\n\nBy the fifth dead *Angel*, they learned of their miscalculation. Soon, we learned of it as well. Human beings shared mana and with it, we could do wondrous or terrible things. Magic no longer belonged to the realm of fiction. The elements bent to our will. Lightning struck where we pointed, tornados formed where we stood, the ground swallowed up entire cities as we willed it.\n\nSuddenly, men stopped volunteering to be harvested. With their newfound power, they decided to fight back, even if victory had already been stolen from us. They had turned us into animals and then backed us into a corner. Foolish.\n\nAnd that was good enough for us. Looking back, I wonder if we were as foolish as the *Angels*. We, who were content with dying in our little blazes of glory, having accomplished nothing but thinning their ranks by just a bit. It was selfish, but what is there to expect from men who had nothing else to live for?\n\nNone of us had the vision you had. The vision you have.\n\n---\n\n---\n\nTyler put the pen down, staring at the word *you*. He wondered if his letter would ever find its way to this certain *you*. While humanity had become animals, one man had gone even further. He had been called a monster by both *Angel* and man. Nobody knew which side he fought for, only that he killed both indiscriminately.\n\nIf Tyler were to write his story, he wouldn’t know whether to make this man the villain or the hero. Oh how he wished he could’ve written this story, but the only way this story continued was if he died. Beside his letter and pen, sitting at the edge of his wooden table was a silver revolver. The single lightbulb above him glinted off its barrel.\n\nA small grin spread across Tyler’s face. He grabbed the gun, its metal like ice, and pressed it to his temple. Enough humans had died where he could stop the bullet with only his thoughts. The bullet couldn’t even hurt him unless he wanted it to. But he did. For the sake of humanity, he needed the bullet to kill him.\n\nWith his free hand, he picked the pen back up.\n\n---\n\n---\n\nAs the last storyteller on Earth, I bestow you the title of Reaper. A monster. A villain. Our last hero.\n\nGo forth, Reaper, my death as an offering. With my passing, there will be only four humans left. I have already contacted two of them and they will die with me. The last I’m sure you will easily find as your powers will have increased two-fold. By then, your mind will stretch the globe, perhaps even the stars. And when you become the last human alive, I cannot even fathom how powerful you will be.\n\nShow our *Angels* how fragile they are in the face of a god.\n\n---\n\n---\n\nTyler pulled the trigger.\n\n---\n\n/r/jraywang\n\n---\n\nPart 1 | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7i53fr/reaper_part_2/) | [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7iavci/reaper_part_3/) | [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7iokx3/reaper_part_4/)\n\n\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a cow." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.\n\nFarmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.\n\nSometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.\n\nWhen visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.\n\nOld cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The year is 2040, and you are the last smoker alive. The \"Quit Smoking\"ads get personal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Quit now Dan!\"said the man on the talking billboard. A finger pointing at the lone figure walking down the empty street. Empty due to everyone crossing to the other side to avoid him and his smog. \nDan paused by a waste bin, small cardboard box in hand. He looked from the box to the bin and back again. Those across the street stopped and stared, ready to witness history being made. \nThere was absolute silence as Dan lifted his hand, as if to throw the packet towards the bin, all eyes now on him, even the billboard advert man stopped to watch. He launched it. It hit the rim. There was a sharp intake of breath as it bounced into the air above the bin. It hit the rim on the other side, people held each other in nervous anticipation. The packet landed onto the other trash in the bin and the crowd across the street erupted into thunderous applause and cheering. Celebrating as if a great sporting victory had been achieved. \nLittle did they realise that Dan had taken a new packet from his pocket, removed the plastic, drew a long white stick out with his teeth and ignited the end. \nAs a large grey cloud left his lips, the crowd died down. realising their premature celebration. There was a disappointed groan and a shuffling as daily activities resumed. \n\"God dammit Dan. You were so close.\"shouted the billboard. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are born without emotions; to compensate this, you started a donation box where people could donate their unwanted emotions. You've lived a life filled with sadness, fear and regret until one day, someone donates happiness." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Each day I woke up only to find that the day was filled with nothing better than the nightmares I endured the night before. My emotion box yielded the same dark, unwanted emotions that I was plagued with each and every minute. \n\nI open my eyes and clear the sleep dust from their corners, I groggily sit-up and swivel to the side of my bed, yet another day of disappointment awaits. Except... I don't feel empty? None of the nausea that accompanies depression, none of the repetitive thoughts of what I *could* have done that accompany regret. I feel warm and content - is this happiness? I run to my front door, to my emotion box that I relent to check every day. I look left, nothing. I look right and catch a glimpse of someone walking around the corner. I eagerly chase after, keen to thank this person for what quite literally is the happiest day of my life. Upon reaching the point where I last saw them there is nothing, no sign that anyone was here just a few moments ago.\n\nThe glee that they gave me is overpowering, everything delights me, all I can think of is how badly I want to thank them. They were wearing your average jeans and a red hoodie - nothing entirely discernible. I turn on the television to a live news broadcast, paramedics line a perimeter set up by several police cars. The camera pans to the person on top of the building above... then they jump. A man, no older than twenty. Jeans and a red hoodie.\n\nI never got to thank them, the person who gave up their last ounce of happiness to give me my first." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone always think that the end comes with battles, glory, last stands, and that at the last moment, somehow, we'll pull through. But it wasn't so. It was quick. Perhaps less than a week. Mankind was rendered extinct, joining the ranks of the Dodo and the Dinosaur. There was no resistance. No, for how could there be. There was nothing to shoot at. Nothing to fire the missiles at. It was just a weapon, cleverly dispersed in the atmosphere. One shot, all killed.\n\nNobody knew who fired it. Nobody knew from whence it came. It didn't matter much in the end. Some said it had been a malfunctioning secret weapon accidentally fired by the decaying Russian ''Dead Hand'' system, some claimed it was a lost WWII Wunderwaffe, others that the Chinese had unleashed something unspeakable by experimenting on minorities in camps. Some said it had been aliens. Wherever it came from, it was a carefully constructed artificial bioweapon, which dissolved the bonds holding human cells together. A few people sardonically noted the similarity to those who had been snapped away in that one Marvel movie. Though a tad bit more realistic, as humans came apart into a wet red mist, finely powdered people, some said. Didn't matter how deep you hid, didn't matter how thick your bunker walls were or how isolated you were. It had after-all been dormant for a few days before the effect began.\n\nIf there had been any observers left, they would first and foremost have noticed how silent it was. No longer was there a continual roar of car engines and the ever moving swarm of humans moving around. No longer were the skies filled with the loud jet engines. In the zoos, the animals began to starve, until a few animals dared to break out. Though the sound of humans were gone, the sad howls of their canine and feline companions could still be heard. They would remember the humans, some part of them would remember forever, how their beloved friends had fed them and cared for them, and had died horribly and suddenly. Even in a thousand generations time, there would be dogs who'd approach ancient decaying statues, not knowing why, but remembering in their souls, the visage of a friend that they'd never seen before.\n\nAnd in a distant town, out in a rural part of the former United States, a single phone was lying near a wet, crimson spot, which had once been the last human on Earth. It still had power. And it still carried a call. A human voice, perhaps the last that would ever be heard on the once human-ruled Earth, repeated the same sentence over and over. ''*You've reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.*'' Over and over, the tinny voice of a repeating answer called into the empty night.\n\nAnd eventually, as the battery was drained, the voice cut out. Silencing the once vibrant voice of humanity, once and for all.\n\n[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Jesus actually had 14 disciples but their behavior was deemed inappropriate by biblical scholars, so they were removed from the final versions of the Gospels. They are Brad and Chad, the Bro-ciples, and these are their stories." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Quick note to OP, I think you meant to say Apostles. Jesus had many more disciples than 12.\n\n_____\n\n**The Book of Rad**\n\nRad 2:1\n\nOn the fifth week day a bachelor party took place at Cana in Galilee. Jesus had been invited, along with a plus one. So Jesus brought his apostle Chad as his plus one, and Brad as Chad's plus one's plus one.\n\nChad scoped out the joint before turning to Jesus and saying to him, \"JC, my man. There is nowhere near enough wine here for all of these people to get plastered.\"\n\n\"So be it,\"Jesus replied. \"Bring me the barrels of wine.\"\n\nBrad and Chad began to lift the barrels before turning to Jesus once more. \"JC, could you just come over here? It would be a lot easier. These are heavier than a man-eating whale!\"\n\nSo Jesus approached the barrels of wine and blessed them. Chad filled a chalice from the barrel and took a sip.\n\nChad sung with joy, \"Hard liquor! The Lord has blessed us with hard liquor!\"\n\nAnd so all the guests got turnt higher than the heavens." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "For years an alien race has been intercepting audio transmissions from Earth and understands English. However, they have been exclusively listening to X-Box Live conversations. They have now prepared their first message for Earth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Greetings, faggots:\n\nMy name is xXSwaGGy-Quarlax [FaZe], Interplanetary Diplomat for the Andromeda Galaxy. I would like to begin this message by assuring you that I am not a camping faggot, nor will my people attempt to quick scope you. Although we have amassed many 360 no scopes throughout our collective lives, we come with a message of peace. I hope to make clear that this is a knife-only match and we will not be attempting any faggotry, nor will we feed mid. We wish only to share our swag amongst your people, you fucking aim botting hackers. \n\nMy clan and I have traveled many millions of light years in search of sentient life, visiting thousands of planets in an attempt to make contact and find the dankest kush. While we have been forced to pwn many noobs and fuck countless mothers on several of those worlds, reking their shit harder than a Haitian Earthquake, we only did so out of self-preservation. None of those planets held any life beyond the hostile and untamable, nor any blunts to blaze upon. It was truly us against them; however, we wish to make it clear that we do have blood on our hands. We, as an intergalactic species, understand that trust is founded upon honesty, and thus tell you retard hackers of our former faggotry. That said, we assure you that your obese, apartment dwelling neckbeards will stand safely beside us and shall never be shrekt.\n\nWe first located your planet nearly six Earth years ago and have been monitoring your communication devices, which you call “X-Box,” to learn your jargon and construct our message of peace. We hope that you understand our dialect and not see us as pay 2 win feeders. In order to further express our good faith, we have amassed a large collection of Code Red Mountain Dew and Cool Ranch Doritos, which we would like to share with your MLG pros. We hope you accept our offering in peace, and that you not fuck our mothers. We wish only to become allies with you, the faggot tryhards of Earth. \n\nPlease find us waiting for you at your trailer park tomorrow at sunrise. We will be in the large flying aircraft, which should be just a few pounds lighter than that of your mother's left tit.\n\nAyy lmao,\n\nxXSwaGGy-Quarlax [FaZe]\n\n_________\n\n^For ^more ^dank ^memes ^and ^swaggy ^stories, [^feel ^free ^to ^check ^out ^my ^subreddit!](http://www.reddit.com/r/ChokingVictimWrites/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named \"iɔniV ɒᗡ\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Finally, after years and years of research and development, it seems to have worked. I think to myself of all the possible mysteries we could now witness first hand. What was life *really* like in medieval Europe? Was it *actually* Nero who burned Rome? This could solve many many things.\n\nI quickly adorn the trousers, shirt, and doublet I had recreated by my local tailor. Peeking out from the alley in which my machine is hidden, I examine my surroundings. Venice, Italy, it seems. The people are all colorfully clothed, as expected. A surprising number of them are speaking in old English it seems. Strange, in Italy, but that just makes it easier for me.\n\nI walk through the city for a while: shops, bakers, and the occasional smithy decorate the sides of the roads. There's a constant buzz of conversation and work as I pass through the market. I step aside into another alley.\n\nOut of curiosity, after look around to make sure no one sees me, I look at my phone to see what time it thinks it is. 2:37, about 12 minutes after I left my time. Then I see the notification. \"Wi-Fi network available\". Stunned, I click the notification and there is one network available. Da Vinci, written backwards.\n\nAt this point, I realize I made a teleporter, not a time machine, and that I somehow managed to teleport myself into the middle of my local rennaisance fair." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A god fell in love with a mortal woman. \"I cannot bear to live without you,\"he told her, \"so I will grant you immortality.\"So he made her a goddess and took her to dwell with him in the realm of the gods, where she met all the other women he couldn't bear to live without." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elena was a matryoshka painter. At sunset, the woodworker Anatoly would knock on the apartment door with his wheelbarrow beside him. Anatoly would give Elena all the plain figurines that he had carved that day, curving the balsam wood into the prospect of a head, shoulders and torso, then cutting the doll at her waist so that her legs would twist off, and hide her secrets. Elena would pay Anatoly five hundred rubles for each full matryoshka and then she would go to her workshop (which was in fact only just the corner of her father's kitchen behind the stove) and she would paint the wood into beautiful women.\n \nElena would paint the women with long eyelashes and blushing cheeks, and Elena would wonder what it would feel like to blush and flutter her own eyes, if ever a kind and handsome man were to pour vodka into a glass, and hand it to her, letting his fingertips pass over hers. She would paint the women wearing elegant dresses adorned with tulips and roses, and Elena would imagine sewing an elegant silk dress to wear herself. She would give the woman full-hearted smiles, and Elena would try to remember the last time she had smiled, apart from when she meant to attract the customers to her booth at the Udelnaya. And then she would paint the next doll nested within, more intricately, but otherwise the same. However, at their core, Elena's matryoshka contained a protest: open her dolls up to the final girl, the smallest and deepest girl of all, and you will find that she is not smiling or blushing, but instead has short eyelashes and a stern gaze. She wears only a plain grey dress. For though Elena painted matryoshka, she had never known her own mother, and therefore knew that not all daughters will inherit.\n\nIn the morning, Elena would pack her matryoshka in a box and take the bus to the Udelnaya, hoping to sell her work. Most days, she would be lucky to sell two or three matryoshka. But there was one day when she sold none at all, yet left the Udelnaya joyful. On that day, a certain tall man in a white dress shirt had come to the market. There, he saw Elena at her booth with the shelves of matryoshka behind her, all red and green, gold and blue, and the man was enamored. \n\n\"I have never seen a woman who I am more certain has a secret hiding inside her,\"the man said to Elena. He was wearing a gold watch and many silver rings. Elena told him that he could buy as many matryoshka as he wished, and discover everything within them. But then the man said the woman he meant to describe was not any of the matryoshka, but Elena herself.\n\nThe man gave Elena a piece of paper with directions to an elegant restaurant on the banks of the Moyka River. He he gave her his credit card as well. He told Elena that were she to go buy a nice dress, that he would be honored to see her in it, and dine with her that evening. Elena blushed, and then she smiled, even though she had not sold a matryoshka.\n\nThat evening, instead of painting, Elena went to the best boutique in St Petersburg, and she bought a beautiful silk dress. She then met the man at the appointed restaurant. He spread caviar onto crackers for her, and poured her some vodka. He asked her about her life, how many matryoshka she supposed she had painted, and if any were very special to her. But, as the meal continued, Elena began to feel more and more confused and dizzy, until everything became terribly blurry. When Elena awoke, she was no longer in the restaurant or in the small bed beside her father's. She was standing upright, but frozen in pose, perched on a gold podium in a white expanse, more still and desolate than the Tauride Gardens after the first snowfall. Elena was lined up neatly between a hundred other young women, all immobile as well.\n\n\"Where am I\"Elena asked, \"who are you all?\"\n\n\"That man who gave you a dress and dinner,\"the young woman beside her explained, \"was not in truth a man, but the wicked god of Motherless Girls. He keeps us here as figurines, upon his shelf for all eternity. He tells us that long ago, he once loved a goddess called Anna, who also had no mother, who was the First Woman, and that we remind him of her. When Anna birthed their child, the girl was mortal. So the god sought to kill the child as an abomination. But Anna loved the baby, so she fled the heavens to the Barsky taiga. The god chased her all through the trees, but Anna refused to return, and at last a bargain was struck: she would remain in the Barsky with her daughter, but thereafter Anna would become mortal as well. But, if any of her descendants to ever live without a mother, the god would be entitled to reclaim those girls and bring them here, to remain forever in his collection.\"\n\nElena was crestfallen at the thought of never again seeing her father or St Petersburg, and of being frozen in place. She screamed out to the god of Motherless Girls and demanded to be freed. But the god just laughed, all throughout his menagerie. \n\nBut then, after many days of considering her plight, Elena formed a plan. \"Allow me to turn your collection into matryoshka!,\"she called out to the god, \"Let me separate each of these women into pieces, into clear layers, so that you might consider each part of her more easily, and find what it is in each of us that resembles your beloved Anna!\"\n\nElena's proposal thrilled the god, for even after all his abductions, he was still no closer to grasping what it was that makes a motherless woman so special, so like the First Woman. He released Elena's muscles and demanded that she go to work at once, separating and straining each of his women into a partwise matryoshka. \n\nFrom where the god watched, it appeared to him Elena was doing as she had promised. But each time his back was turned, or when Elena carefully angled her subject and stood nose to nose, she would reach inside the girl, and she would pull forth her soul, which lives in her deepest layer. Elena would hide the soul in her bosom until she could move on and quietly feed it to another girl, until every girl had taken in the soul of one of her fellow captives. Finally, Elena pulled out her own soul and fed it to the woman whom she had been first placed beside. At last, each captive woman had taken in the soul of another, thereby promising to care for it and nurture it. Because of this, the women of the menagerie had all become mothers to each other, and were no longer in thrall to the selfish god.\n\nThe god saw that Elena was no longer hard at work, so he returned to inspect her progress. But as he entered the menagerie, all the captives suddenly broke from their poses. All together, they hit and kicked the god, until he fled. The menagerie with all its gold podiums vanished, and the girls fell through a void, until everything again became blurry. Elena awoke in her small bed in her father's apartment in St Petersburg.\n\nThat night, Anatoly came at sunset with the blank wood for Elena. For the first time, she did not paint the final doll with a stern face and grey dress. For now, Elena knew that somewhere there was a woman who would always carry her soul, always nurture and protect it, and that this meant she would always have a mother to inherit from.\n " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "When you kill someone, you get their best trait. Except it's what *they* think is their best trait." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Killing people was easy. I was a sociopath, you see. It's hard to feel guilt when you barely have any emotions at all. When you have a special ability like I do it's even easier.\n\nAs the barrel of my gun cooled, I watched Dr. Robert J. Phillips, considered the world's most brilliant man slowly bleed out near my feet. Upon passing, I would get his greatest trait - his intelligence - and with my massive strength, hand-eye coordination, and other traits acquired through murder I would at last be unstoppable.\n\nI wondered what it would be like to be that smart. In a minute I'd find out. I looked around his lab as he died, my eyes fixing on the photo of his wife and family. They'd be set for life. Enco Industries, the R&D Division at which Phillips worked, had a great benefit package, including life insurance.\n\nI stared at the indecipherable scientific formula on the blackboard he had been working on. When he finally died I'd be able to comprehend this gibberish. I almost put another bullet in his temple to speed things up. \n\nJust then I felt it in the back of my skull. That itch that tells me when the transfer occurs. I stared at the board then doubled over in agony. What the hell was this? What the hell had happened to me? Tears poured from my eyes as everything I'd done ripped my soul to pieces. \n\nThe math problem was still gibberish. I looked at his wall behind the board and saw the certificates. The ribbons. The medals. All from humanitarian efforts. The asshole. The dead asshole. He didn't consider his amazing intelligence his best trait. He considered his empathy his best trait. \n\nFor the first time in my life I felt the weight of all the murders I had committed. All the men and women i had used and discarded to rise to where I was. \n\nMy final action as I put the pistol to my temple was to look at the picture of his smiling family and say, \"I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry.\"\n\nAs I pulled the trigger I realized that for once in my life I actually was." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Every \"walks into a bar\"joke occurs in a single bar. You're the bartender and your shift just started." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*Same old shift. Same old jokes.*\n\nFrank looked out over the bar, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular, barely registering the buzz of chatter between patrons. His hand twisted rhythmically, aimlessly rubbing a towel over the rim of a glass that had been dry for ten minutes.\n\nThe sound of the small brass bell above the doorway snapped Frank out of his trance. He glanced up, hoping – just for a split second – for someone new.\n\n*Oh*, thought Frank, *the horse. Of course. Of course.*\n\n“Evening, Frank. I’ll take a pint,” the horse announced, finishing his sentence with an over-exaggerated sigh. Frank only nodded, saying nothing in response. In an almost zen-like state he pulled the horse’s drink, refusing to engage, eyes fixed on the rising head that pooled over the amber liquid. Without a word, he slid the pint over to the horse, his lips screwed tightly together, his hands pressed so firmly against the bar his knuckles were turning white.\n\nThe horse looked at Frank expectantly. A single bead of cold sweat trickled down his face and dripped quietly into his beer. He cleared his throat purposefully, but Frank refused to take the bait. Furtive whispers began to swirl around the bar. *Frank’s not saying it! How can he not say it?*\n\n“Frank?” hissed the horse, shifting uncomfortably in his velour-capped barstool. “Don’t you, um, have anything to – you know, to say?”\n\nAll eyes were on Frank. The room became enveloped by an expectant, judgemental silence.\n\n“No.”\n\nUnder his breath, Frank uttered a single word. The patrons gasped audibly, and the horse’s face cracked into an expression of pure disbelief, his mouth falling agape. Frank was visibly trembling, his heart racing as years and years of bad punchlines echoed in his head. *Put it on my bill! Should I have said DiMaggio? For you, no charge!* It was too much. The frustrations were finally bubbling to the surface.\n\n**“I won’t say it!”** he bellowed. **“I won’t! I can’t indulge you people anymore! Night after night, I just want to run a business, but you’re making a – a – a joke out of my bar! Out of me! Oh look, the priest, the rabbi and the minister – yeah, sure, I can count on three holy men to keep this place afloat, right? Nobody drinks like holy men! Why do you even come here?”**\n\n“But the blood of Christ –“ interjected the priest before he was shushed a baseball-loving dog.\n\n**“And you!”** Frank now pointed accusingly at the gorilla, who was sheepishly frozen mid-sip, a Manhattan raised to his lips. **“No, we don’t get many gorillas in here – why would we? – but tell you what, if you don’t like my prices, you can leave! Good luck finding another bar that serves your kind!”**\n\n“That’s a little racist,” the rabbi muttered to the minister, who nodded sagely in agreement.\n\n**“And the blonde! The blonde! Is it legal for me to serve a woman with such a low IQ? Please, tell me – just for my own peace of mind – tell me there’s some medical reason why I shouldn’t get so frustrated with you. Do the redhead and the brunette actually hang out with you out of choice? Or were they appointed to you?”**\n\n“She sounds awful!” cried out the blonde supportively. The redhead and the brunette covered their faces in sheer exasperation.\n\n**“And the twelve inch pianist – I don’t care. I just don’t care! You want a big dick? Speak. More. Clearly!”**\n\n“Oh,” quacked the duck excitedly from his seat in the booth, “*Now* I get it!”\n\nAt this point Frank could barely form words and, in the absence of insults, his anger turned to sadness, and his eyes began to sting with tears. Overwhelmed by emotion, he collapsed on the bar and sobbed loudly and awkwardly, a man broken by one too many puns. The patrons grimaced collectively, each waiting nervously for someone, *anyone*, to do something to cut through the tension. The brunette gestured to the horse, who was still sat only a foot away from Frank, having experienced the whole rant at point blank range. Wincing, the horse leaned over the bar, clumsily patting Frank’s shoulder with a hoof.\n\n“Frank,” said the horse, trying his best to sound soothing, “Why the long face?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The ritual calls for 100 sacrifices, but reading carefully you realize it never specified they had to be human. Deciding to be a smartass, you got a petri dish full of bacteria and sacrificed that instead." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I drew the circle, lit the candles in the right order, and placed the sacrifice on the stone altar. My chanting grew louder and louder, its metaphysical pitch increasing to call across the celestial layers. I raised the athame, the stone dagger etched with the thousand names of Hav-Morach, and drew it across the victim as the ritual demanded, chanting a dedication of blood drawn and fire offered to the Great Below. \n\nThere was a rasping, grinding sound as my knife slid across the Petri dish. *No idea how many I might have scraped off there, better set the fire quick...* I thought as I raised a black candle to the altar, pre-soaked in blessed oil (technically, though blessed isn’t the most accurate word when dealing with Below). The flame caught, and I felt the usual blast of heat as the sacrifice was given, its blood echoing down through reality. I waited the 7-and-13 seconds for the summons to return. \n\nAnd with a slight *sigh,* reality bent. \n\n#”TREMBLE MORTALS, AND DESPAIR! DOOM HAS COME TO THIS WO- HANG ON. WHAT?”\n\nI grinned and waved at the demon. Its crimson skin flushed with dark symbols, its head bore a crown of jagged black horns, and its eyes wept tears of black blood. It was also 2 feet tall. \n\n“Hi there!” I said cheekily. “One hundred sacrifices given, o immortal servant, and you must fulfill my commands! I was expecting someone... bigger, though.”\n\n# “I AM THE DREAD LORD CHAVASHTOHT! I HAVE CALLED FIRE DOWN UPON THE ZIGGURATS OF UR, DRUNK BLOOD FROM THE HEARTS OF A THOUSAND DEAD! YOU HAVE CALLED ME WITH BLOOD AND SO I ANSWER. I... WHERE ARE MY SACRIFICES? YOU CALLED ME! WHERE IS THE HUNDRED DEAD I WAS PROMISED!?”\n\n“Well...” I said, my grin growing wider. “Your contract never said that they had to be *human.*” I pointed to the burnt and melting Petri dish. “You didn’t even specify they had to be animal.”\n\n#”...LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You'll do fine,\"Orixia assured him.\n\n\"But all you gave me is this stupid antique!\"\n\n\"That 'stupid antique,'\"his sponsor retorted, \"is a genuine Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. In its time, it was prized for its range, its accuracy, and its reliability.\"\n\n\"Great! But all the other competitors are going to have every superpower in the book! This is *horseshit* compared to what I'll be facing in the arena!\"\n\nOrixia smiled. \"Just practice with it for the next week. And *trust* me.\"\n\n§\n\nEach god was entitled to bestow powers on their candidate in accordance with their own power, which gave the most powerful gods a decided advantage and also tended to maintain the status quo among the pantheon.\n\nIn the interest of fairness, however, each candidate also had to be given a mortal weakness, and the rules for selecting that weakness were strict and inviolable.\n\nThe gods, being gods, all wanted their candidates' weaknesses to be as small as possible, so in the days before candidate selection they each went to the Celestial Historian, a noted expert in all things related to war and combat, and charged him with researching the most insignificant weakness they could bestow which would still qualify.\n\nFinally, the tournament began, and each competitor in turn was announced, along with their attributes.\n\n\"The god Aros the Ultimate presents David Peterson, whose powers are near-infinite strength and superhuman speed! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket.\"\n\nThere was heard much laughter and a few boos from the massed audience. In limiting his candidate's Achilles' heel to an attack with such an ancient, obscure weapon, Aros the Ultimate had virtually assured his victory. The tournament might as well end now.\n\n\"The goddess Belingia the Great presents Angela Moquat, whose powers are ultimate mastery of edged weapons and birdlike flight! Her mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket.\"\n\nA gasp rose from the audience, followed by a growing murmur. What was going on here?\n\n\"The god Caranis the Merciless presents M'tanga I'pongo, whose powers are transformation into fierce animals and the ability to cast fire! His mortal weakness is vulnerability to being shot by a Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket.\"\n\nSo it continued through scores of candidates, until the last, weakest entry was introduced...\n\n\"The god Orixia the Celestial Historian presents Jeff Myrtlebank, whose powers are outstanding marksmanship and the mastery of his Springfield Model 1861 rifled musket. His mortal weakness is being brought to orgasm orally by Aros the Ultimate.\"\n\nJeff and Orixia stood silently as all the other gods gathered at the other end of the arena and engaged in animated conversation. Finally Aros the Ultimate's booming voice rang out for all to hear:\n\n\"NO! I am *not* going to 'take one for the team!'\"\n\nEach candidate forfeited in turn, until only one remained. Jeff Myrtlebank was accepted to the pantheon, and every power granted to every candidate was given to him, along with all their vulnerabilities--which, ironically, were all the same.\n\n§\n\nIn the end, he alone among the gods had only two weaknesses. One became no weakness at all when he used his powers to secretly replace all Springfield Model 1861's in the universe with identical replicas, which of course held no threat to him.\n\nAs for the other, Jeff eventually defeated Aros and took the throne, and even when facing annihilation, Aros remained true to his word.\n\n---\n\n**Edit:** Thanks to /u/IReddYourWords for [the audiobook version!](https://youtu.be/YqrDIhoneGI)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You put your 5-year-old daughter in an elevator by herself, and run to the next floor to make her laugh when the doors open. You get there, the elevator arrives and a 20-year-old woman steps out. \"Hello Dad. We have a lot to talk about\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I put my 5 year old daughter, Emily, in the elevator, and waited until the doors closed before running down the hall to the stairs. I'd done this trick before, and seeing my daughter's 5 year old face light up filled me with an unforgettable sense of joy.\n\nI heard the 'ding' just as I dismounted from the staircase on the first floor, and with no time to spare I haulted myself in my best casual pose just as the doors opened. Normally I'd hear her giggles before the door opened, then I'd see her soul-saving smile. \n\nBut that's not what happened this time.\n\n\"Hello Dad,\"an adult woman said. \"We have a lot to talk about.\"\n\nI knew it was impossible and yet I recognized the sincerity in her eyes. She was my Emily, alright. She looked to be around 20 years old.\n\n\"How is this possible?\"I asked. My confusion didn't surprise Emily. She acted as if she'd spent considerable time preparing for this moment.\n\n\"We'll talk about that later, Dad. For now, let's just focus on what we're going to have for dinner.\"She said as we got back to the apartment. \n\nI tried to remember what I had for groceries, but I hadn't done any shopping in a while. So I suggested that we order a pizza.\n\n\"Pizza is just fine, Dad.\"Grown up Emily said with a warm, yet heavy smile. There was something unsettling about the layered emotions in her face.\n\nBefore I could find the phone number for the nearest pizza place, there was a knock at the door.\n\n\"I've got it.\"Emily insisted as she got out of her chair.\n\nA few moments later she returned with the pizza.\n\n\"How are you doing this?\"I asked, astonished. \"I need you to tell me what's going on.\"\n\n\"Dad, I know you're probably a little freaked out right now, and that's normal,\"Emily said as she peered deep into my soul. \"But what I'm about to tell you is going to require a lot of courage, do you understand?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"I said to the young lady. She seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.\n\n\"You have Alzheimer's.\"\n\n\n---\n\nEdit: Wow! Thank you for all the kind words, the gold, the platinum, the silver! I was not expecting this. You guys made my day. I'm glad you enjoy the story. :)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Three years ago, aliens kidnapped a single human in order to learn an earth language. Today, they made first contact. There's just one issue... The human they learned English from was Samuel L Jackson." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“English, mother fucker.”\n\n“W-what?” I replied, taken aback by the creature’s words. We had not expected verbal communication this early in the process.\n\n“English, mother fucker! Do you speak it!?”\n\n“Yes. Yes I do.” I answered, regaining my composure. “What surprises me is that *you* speak it.”\n\n“Do y’all mother fuckers think we’re stupid or some shit?” The tall grey form before me began. “Of course we’re speaking English. It would be real fucking rude if we didn’t. Of course, we needed a tutor, and we’d like to apologise for beaming him up unannounced like we did. We didn’t know that shit ain’t appreciated round here.”\n\nI nodded slowly, still shocked by the foul language the extraterrestrial claimed had been taught to it.\n\n“Mr. Jackson!” \nThe creature called back towards its vessel.\n“Could you get yo mother fucking ass off the mother fucking ship?”\n\nAnd Lo and behold, strutting down the sleek silver stairs of the spacecraft came none other than Samuel L. Jackson, the actor who had gone missing last week. It made sense now. He did not seem injured, or even distressed as he came up to me, with one of the largest grins I have ever seen plastered across his face.\n\n“Surprise, mother fucker.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are secretly the richest person in the world. But to avoid suspicion of having so much money, you decide to work a normal office job. One day, your boss fires you. But what he didn't realise... Was how incredibly petty you are, and the lengths you will go to get back at him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My Grandpa, Pops, always said money couldn’t buy you happiness. Pops said a lot of things, and while some of them proved rather bizarre as he got older, on *that* one I always trusted him and he pretty much always proved to be right. \n\nWhen I was 11 he sat me down to talk about money. I'd never thought about it, never *needed* to think about it, it was just something we had when we needed. He told me about old vs new money. Old money is money handed down from your family, while new money folks had earned it recently. I asked him which we came from and he laughed. \n\n“We boy, are from something else entirely,” he’d smiled at me. “Our money's not old, it’s *ancient*.” \n\nIt was years before I properly understood him. Our family had been rich for longer than most countries had existed; we owned the companies that owned banks and we shifted investment portfolios that dwarfed the GDP of major world countries, but Pops explained that we did it quietly, behind the scenes so to speak.\n\nWhen I at last began to understand, I asked Pops if we were part of a group I had heard about on the internet, the Illuminati. Folk seemed obsessed that there were secret groups running the world and it intrigued me. He laughed, they existed, *of course*, but they were 6 or 7 levels of control beneath where Pops was. I never quite had the courage to ask how many levels were above him... \n\nWhen he died, I was left alone. My parents had died when I was a baby, he'd raised me by himself and now I was the last of our family. I’d been educated, taught what I needed to know about our business and given links to all of his wealth, influence and power, but the one things he’d taught me above all others, was how *not* to use it. \n\nThat left me in a pickle, for what do you do when you have enough money to do whatever you want and no one to share it with? My friends were few and far between, but nice and all getting on with their lives. I'd gone to public Schools and done well enough, but m real education had been in Pops kitchen, sitting in front of the fire while he whittled and told me what I needed to know. I had trillions in the bank, but nothing I needed it for….well, to be honest I owned the banks by and large too. \n\nIt turned out that life isn’t much fun without a challenge. Like a computer game with cheats turned on, after a while it becomes stale and boring. For a while I tried to live Pops life, working a small hog farm in rural Minnesota, but that wasn't for me, that was still trying to be someone else, trying to be *him*. For a year or so I lived like Dan Bilzerian, but without the publicity or the weird thing that no one ever talks about. I spent money and tried everything in the world I wanted, but... it wasn't actually all that fun. \n\nI needed to find my own place, my own level. So that’s what I did. Turns out though, that with no experience on your résumé and having only half paid attention in school, you're not qualified for much. \n\n***\n\nAt 4:03pm every single day, the Compliance Officers of the National Bank Insurance team stood up en mass, as the phone lines closed for the day, and headed for the kitchen. I was going to be late, as usual, as trainees needed to do double the paperwork and if I didn’t get it done now, then I would be staying late again this evening.\n\nI offered a small prayer that someone might save a decent biscuit for me, rather than being stuck with just a plain digestive and hunched over, trying to fire through the forms to get them in as quickly as possible. A looming shadow cut me off mid thought and hovered over me in a mildly sinister way. \n\n“Aaah, Jimbo?” It was Stuart, the team manager and a man who seemed to exude grease. His voice seemed to whine, each note dragged out as if it hated coming from him as much as I hated hearing it. I’d told him a number of times to not call me “Jimbo”, but Jim, yet he ignored me each time. \n\n“Hi Stuart, I’m just getting these finished up before…” \n\n“Uuuuuh, yes, so we need to have a chat, you see, coffee breaks reeeally need to be taken once you’ve completed your core work. We can’t have you just sneaking off for a brew whenever you feel like it!” He laughed at what he must have thought was a joke, an annoying ‘hnyak hnyuk noise’.\n\nI held a breath for a second to stay calm. “No problem Stuart, as you can see, I’ve not moved and am completing them right now.”\n\nHe didn’t listen, or if he did, he didn’t care. “You see Jimbo, if you want to get ahead, you have to learn from me. I started here just eight years ago and worked my way up, you can’t just expect to get given a good job in this world.”\n\n“No, that’s fine, if I can just crack on with…”\n\n“You see, investments are a bit like seduction.” He perched on the corner of my desk, polyester shirt crinkling and reflecting the light from the strip lighting overhead. I began to wonder if he was still a virgin. “You can’t just thrust forward, you need to take you time, do the *reeeesearch* Jimbo.”\n\nThat confirmed it, he was both a virgin and seemingly knew fuck all about investing. A small part of me wondered if he could possibly handle the truth about me, but that was the problem really. This game only worked if you committed, if you *lived* the life you were pretending to live. If you simply flashed your cash at the first problem, then it…\n\nHe ruffled my hair. “You’re just not a *natural* Jimbo, but if you stick with me, maybe you’ll manage to get there.”\n\nI smiled, drew a hand through my hair, feeling his sweat that had rubbed off into my hair and tried not to gag. Fuck the game. \n\nI pushed my seat back, knocking his legs so he almost fell off the desk. “Yeah,. thanks *Stewy*, I gotta take a whizz, so you hold tight.”\n\nHis mouth gaped open as I let the little persona I had donned drop away. No more hunching, no more pretending, no more Jimbo. A faint hnyak echoed behind me, making my skin crawl. \n\nMoney can’t buy happiness, Pops was right, but it can buy a *lot* of things, including people who’ll do your exact wish on very short notice. I tossed the trash phone I had been using into the nearest bin and pulled out my real phone; a Ziphec tech. As far as I knew, only four people in the world had access to this phone, money alone couldn't buy it, you only got it if you *needed* it. It was simply able to access... more information that usual. National Bank was trading at £6.21 a share and in three quick messages I owned six percent of it and became the largest stock holder.\n\nRules, laws, corporate accountability, governments, all were obstacles that swept away immediately by money. 6% was plenty, but 14% was what I wanted to give me enough control to call an Extraordinary General Meeting of the board, which I did three minutes later.\n\nI took a pee while a dozen board members found themselves called to a virtual meeting. Men in suits walked into offices, buildings and private homes, regardless of where they were and what they were doing, board members joined the meeting remotely. One was in Brazil watching football, one in Thailand... otherwise occupied. All were located within three minutes. \n\nThe meeting took less than thirty seconds and the board were dismissed and replaced with my own team, who as I washed my hands, began to order instructions. Two minutes later, as my hands finished drying, a text beeped onto my phone. It was done. It was all done.\n\nI went for a coffee, hitting the kitchen just as most of the team were finishing up and feeling only a slight pang to see that all the chocolate biscuits were gone. Still, as I dunked the dry biscuit into my cup of tea, I was happy enough to simply wait for the entertainment to begin. \n\nPerfect timing is easy when money and manpower is no object and as I walked back to my desk, the first pieces were falling into place. Stuart’s mother was at his desk, a not unfamiliar sight, but today she had someone with her. Most people’s lives are all fairly transparent, their past researchable if you know how and who to do it. For Stuart’s mum, the key was an old School flame, who was happy to show up at her door after being offered… a sum of money.\n\n“You’re kicking me out?” Stuart screeched. “But I *live* there mummy!”\n\nHis mother, looking happier than I had ever seen her before. Of course the only times I had seen her was when she was accompanying Stuart as his date to the Xmas party. She kissed the woman who stood beside her and they walked out together. They'd be getting a new house in a new city, his mother had been surprisingly easy to convince, I was told.\n\nFor a moment Stuart stood in shock, but a beeping from his pocket roused him. He fished his phone out and I noted in interest that it was the model down from the one I had so recently discarded. He stared at the screen as alert after alert sounded, confirming the deletion of his level 124 Ork Master General from BattleWorld, the MMO he mentioned on a near-constant basis. 4 years it had taken him to level up, but he’d find the company helpdesk *surprisingly* unhelpful if he tried to get his account back. Weirdly I felt an actual pang of guilt, but it's not like I was EA. \n\nFinally the kicker, his boss, a woman who had despised him for years and barely hid it, walked across the office with an envelope in hand. She carefully hid her smirk as she handed it to him, touched him on the shoulder and shook her head. “Sorry Stuart, new owners have decided a round of downsizing is in order.” She looked around at the confused faces. “Back to work the rest of you.”\n\nAs he left the office, belongings carried out in a box, I wondered when he’d realise that he had no home to go to and then, when he’d consider where his pet tortoise was. I slid open my top drawer and dropped in a piece of lettuce – I wasn’t a monster, he’d get his pet back, but if you’re going to ruin a man, you can’t do things by halves.\n\nThat was another saying Pops always liked, but he always was a *very* smart man.\n\n***\n\n/r/fringly or /r/dcfu for various bits of my writing. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A wife kills her husband. Make me sympathize with both characters." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was drunker than usual. Ordinarily, she would feel relief when he collapsed onto the couch by the TV. That meant he was too drunk to yell and fight. Tonight, she felt no relief. All she could do was watch him from the doorway, hoping he would drink the poisoned whiskey she had just poured him.\n\nA lump sat in her throat as she watched his fat belly rise and fall with his labored breath. In his hand, he held the last drink she would ever pour for him. He sat there for a few minutes in silence without even looking at the glass of whiskey he clutched in his fat fingers. Then, without warning, he downed the entire glass in one movement.\n\nHe let the glass hit the ground and sighed. He would go to sleep soon. It wouldn’t be painful. Nowhere near as painful as the last twenty-three years had been for her. She wanted him to leave the world peacefully. She still loved him, after all. Still, she felt he deserved an explanation. At the very least, he deserved a good-bye.\n\nShe walked around to the front of the couch. He rolled his half-opened eyes in her direction and the two stared at each other in silence.\n\n“There was more than whiskey in your drink,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m sorry.”\n\n“Your black eye is healing,” he said quietly. “You know I’m sorry about hurting you. Don’t you?”\n\nShe nodded.\n\n“You were very beautiful once. I can still see it sometimes. When you smile. You don’t smile much these days. But when you do, your eyes flash like they did when we were teenagers. It reminds me of how young and beautiful we were. Young, beautiful, and carefree.”\n\n“Your drink,” she said with tears forming in her eyes. “You’re dying. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”\n\n“I know,” he whispered and slowly nodded. “I saw you pour it.”\n\nShe put her hands over her mouth and tried not to cry.\n\n“Do you remember that field trip we took during our second year of high school?” he asked.\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n“We spent the whole day together,” he said as his voice became fainter. “It was the first time I really met you. There were fifty or sixty of us there but I only cared about you. On the bus ride home, we sat next to each other. Do you remember now?”\n\nShe nodded.\n\n“Everybody on the bus slept. They were so tired. But not us. We couldn’t stop talking to each other. We had so much to say back then. When you started to drift off to sleep, I was sad. But then you said something to me. Do you remember what it was?”\n\n“I-” she paused to steady her voice. “I’m going to lean on you, ok?”\n\n“Yeah,” he said as a smile slowly spread across his face. “And you fell asleep on my shoulder. I couldn’t sleep the whole bus ride because I was so happy that we were having that moment. And I know you didn’t sleep either. The bus bounced too much. And back then my arms were muscular. You just wanted to be close to me. I’m sorry I was such a lousy pillow. And I’m sorry I was an even lousier husband.”\n\nShe wanted to say something but could not.\n\nHis voice slowed even further. He spoke as if he was in a dream. “I still love you as much as I did on that bus ride. I just got worse at showing it. I’m sorry.”\n\nShe did not reply. She just stood and tried to compose herself. After a moment, she walked over and sat next to him on the couch. \n\n“I’m going to lean on you, ok?” she whispered.\n\n“Ok,” he replied as she rested her head against his arm.\n\nThe two sat in silence until his breathing stopped at last." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your SO loves fun, risky situations like skydiving, while you always liked to play it safe. After a long, happy life together, you're reunited in the afterworld. Everybody has a number for how many times they SHOULD have died throughout their life. Your SO's is 3,300. Yours is 1,450,294." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Skydiving splatter job?\"\n\n\"Oh yeah, that end would have been messy.\"\n\n\"Bungee jump into a woodchipper?\"\n\n\"Oooo that one would have been juicy too.\"\n\nI kept flipping through the encyclopedia of all my alternate deaths. \n\n\"Look man, I always tell folks they don't have to read this. Your stuff is particularly intense.\"\n\nI looked up at the angel. Suprisingly, they were nothing like I imagined. Young, clean shaven, white suit and all. \n\n\"I don't understand... how could have I died in so many ways? I was boring....and how the hell did I live to be 97?\"\n\nThe angel smiled. \"Listen my friend. Nothing is certain. We're not actually all knowing. Everyone gets that wrong. We're just really really good at statistics. We looked at your personality, dexterity, company you keep, and activities you run and come up with all the potential deaths that could happen to you. Then we eliminate the improbable and keep anything above a 95% probability in the book. Most people average 25-150 possibilities. Risk takers like your wife over there quite often come in higher, but you...well you're an anomaly.\"\n\nI was truly confused now. \"I still don't get how I could have died over a million ways. How did I even make it to old age?\"\n\n\"Well....that is where it gets interesting. You were never supposed to be born in the first place. See, your mother intended to terminate the pregna..\n\n\"Uh....WHAT?!\"I interjected\n \nThe angel continued, \"Yeah, kind of a detail most leave out when raising a kid. Listen, the universe never intended for you to exist. It spent the entirety of your life attempting to correct your existence. As soon as you were born, your numbers went absofuckinglutley haywire. Hell, We had guys calculating your stuff around the clock for 37 years of your life. We actually had to give up. Truth be told, I'm not quite sure how you made it to 97, but we ran the numbers and you had a 0.0000000032% chance of that happening when you were born. Interestingly, the odds went up every year after you met your wife.\"\n\n\"Ok....glad I met her then. So do we get to go to heaven?\"\n\n\"Yeah, you were pretty cool people down there. Listen man, I wouldn't sweat the whole dying thing. You won the lottery. Anytime your death was a sure thing, you lucked at and made the right move. Canceled a road trip, didn't jump out of the plane, remembered to double check the lock on your home. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a guardian angel....pun intended \nby the way. So... Go ahead, walk through the gates, and enjoy your eternity of bliss!\"\n\nStill confused, I decided to take him up on his advice and put the book down. Whatever the odds were, I somehow beat them. I thanked the angel and began walking towards the gate. My wife walked up after finishing her conversation. \n\n\"Everything ok?\"She said. \n\n\"Oh nothing\", I happily replied. \"We're just lucky to be here.\"\n\n\"Ha, that we are!\"she said with a nervous smile. \n\nWe began walking on the winding path towards the gate of heaven when she quickly pushed me off the path out of the sight of the angels \n\n\"Listen to me, there isn't much time!\"\n\n\"Susan...what the fu...\"\n\nShe covered my mouth. \"We do not have time! This is not heaven, these are not angels. They have been after you for a very very long time. You are more important than you know. RUN down the hidden path now. My people are waiting for you\"\n\nStartled now I looked at my wife of 66 years, \"I don't understand.\"\n\n\"I don't have time to explain! You need to move now. The fate of all exsistence rests on your soul. We had to delay your death as long as possible to plan an escape. This is it....RUN....I'll hold them off.\"\n\nI could hear the angels approaching our spot on the path. With fear gripping me and emotions running strong, I took one last look at my beautiful Susan. A pitiful \"ok\"was all i could muster. \n\nI turned my back on her and began running. I'll never forget the chaos that ensued. The growls, roars, and schreeches that played out behind me. All I could do was run. \n\nRun until I saw her people. \n\n\nEdit: Holy crap this blew up. Thanks for the love everyone. I guess I'll write some more stuff when I can't sleep. \n\nEdit 2: Holy crap again. Thanks for gold and 5k upvotes. Really blown away how well received this has been. I think I will develop this story further. I'll try to tag everyone who requested. \n\nEdit 3: Alright, enough people requested more, so I will oblige. I created a subreddit r/VengefulSeven_Stories. I'll post the next chapter of this saga there." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named \"iɔniV ɒᗡ\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"where is Da Vinci?\"\n\n\"where is Da vinci?\"\n\n\"WHERE IS DA VINCI?\"\n\nIt had taken months of searching, but I'd finally been able to talk to the Italians long enough to figure out that he was in Florence. After weeks of searching, weeks of travelling, I'd finally arrived. I miss cars. Hell, I miss bicycles. It would all be worth it though, to finally meet him. \n\n\"where is Da Vinci?\"\n\nThe Italians looked at me quite strangely - not surprising, I don't speak a word of Italian and, while I ditched my 'future' clothes, I looked like I'd just been pulled out of a peasants trash heap. \n\n\"where is Da Vinci?\"\n\nThe city of Florence was beautiful; grand churches, gorgeous towering monuments, even the bridges looked pretty. In other circumstances I would have spent a great deal of time simply looking around the place, but right now I was desperate.\n\n\"where is Da Vinci? Where is Da Vin-\"\n\nHere was a building that looked nothing like the others. Not especially grand, but I knew I had found him. The radio antennas, the cables, the satellite dish. This is the sixteenth century, how had no one else questioned these strange objects?\n\nMy heart was racing as I knocked on the hollow wooden door.\n\n\"Come in\"\n\nHands tingling with excitement, I went inside. This was it, at last. I was going to meet Da Vinci.\n\n\"Da Vinci?\"\n\n\"Yes. Can I help you?\"\n\nStraight to the point, this was it. Finally, my question would be answered.\n\n\"What's your Wi-Fi Password?\"\n\n\n\n*EDIT: Your, thanks*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said \"World War One\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Peace must prevail.\"\n\nI looked at him sadly. \"This isn't the way. Please believe me.\"\n\nHe was adamant. \"Our people are disheartened, painted as villains. It is not so. We are a proud people. Strong. We will not allow tyranny and oppression to silence us.\"\n\n\"And you believe that you'll be different? You believe that in forcing their hand, you will be just and altruistic?\"\n\nHe refused to look at me. \"It is for the greater good.\"\n\nHe would not be swayed. His path had been chosen and no words of mine would change the tragedy and suffering he would wreak.\nOne more effort.\n\n\"Think of the brothers you have lost,\"I implored him. \"Imagine. Just imagine the world that would have been if only World War One could have been prevented.\"\n\nHe gave me a confused look, the dawning realisation of what I'd said inspiring a mad expression, a terrible fire that flickered in his eyes and whispered his soul's darkest dreams. \n\n\"World War One?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You're Jigsaw and you've caught your latest victim. Unfortunately, you've greatly underestimated David Blaine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"You will need to stab your hand to remove the key to the lock,\"Jigsaw explained with a creepy laugh. \n\nDavid Blaine stood alone in a room. The ceiling was slowly moving downward to inevitably crush him. There was one steel door with a thick padlock on it preventing his escape. On a table in front of him was a thin knife. He looked at his hand to see a tear that was stitched back together with a small key shape pressing against his skin. \n\nDavid picked up the knife and looked at the tv screen with Jigsaw watching him. He held up the knife, \"Do you see how this looks real? Do you see how sharp it is?\"\n\n\"What? Yes.\"Jigsaw answered. \n\n\"Look at it,\"David twisted it in his hand. \"Do you-look at...you see? The knife...it's real.\"\n\nJigsaw said nothing. \n\n\"Now watch...are you watching? Watch.\"David started putting it into his hand. Slowly...painfully slowly. \"It's about the mind...the mind is more powerful than we know. If we harness this-\"David paused and looked at the TV, \"-are you watching? Watch. If we harness the mind. Look. You can see.\"\n\nDavid pried the key out of his hand and held it up to TV. His hand did not even bleed. \n\n\"5 years it took me to learn this trick,\"David stared at the TV with Jigsaw, \"5 years, I thought it was impossible, but my mind prevailed.\"\n\nThere was a long pause before Jigsaw spoke, \"Move on to the next test then.\"\n\n\"I could. But...I wonder...would it be weird if I stayed,\"David smiled that knowing smile of lunacy. \n\n\"What?\"Jigsaw questioned. \n\n\"The ceiling...see how it's lowering. Watch. You can see. I wonder...would it...watch and see how it lowers.\"\n\nDavid laid onto the ground and closed his eyes. \"It's about breathing. The lungs fill with air...and release. You see, can you watch my stomach. It's about breathing. 10 years. 10 years before I knew how to control my lungs and chest muscles to do this.\"\n\n\"What are you doing?!\"Jigsaw shouted\n\nThe ceiling lowered and lowered until it shattered the table the knife was previously on. \n\n\"Are you watching?\"David looked at the TV, \"Watch what happens. Watch.\"\n\nThe ceiling went lower and lower until it started pressing on David. It kept pressing and pressing. Slowly and slowly it moved down onto him. \n\nJigsaw stared in awe at how someone allowed themselves to be crushed. He waited to see some sort of trick but the ceiling went all the way down until it touched the floor. It was only when the ceiling started to rise he saw David was still lying there. It almost looked like his body was inflating back to its normal size. \n\n\"10 years,\"David said sitting up, \"To allow my bones to flatten themselves before building back up. Did you see? It's not magic. It's mind power. I went to Africa and found a tribal warrior that survived being stepped on by elephants. 10 years it took me to learn his trick.\"\n\nJigsaw stared with no words. \n\n\"I want to push boundaries,\"David stood up loosening his shoulders, \"Of the mind, of the world. It's not magic. It's real.\"\n\n\"What-\"\n\n\"10 years.\"\n\n\"I know-\"\n\n\"Did you watch?\"\n\nJigsaw let out a deep sigh, \"You're free. Just go dammit.\"\n\nedit: wow gold! Awesome. Also fixed small error. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Your girlfriend just dumped you through a text. In a rage, you throw your old teddy bear while shouting “The Fucking Devil!”. Your teddy bear stands up and says ‘alright you got me, you got me,”." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I stood back. Mouth agape in shock and terror.\n\n“Who..what,” I stuttered.\n\n“Isn’t it obvious you thundering dolt. I am the devil,” My teddy bear grimaced.\n\nThe teddy bear grew larger and darker. The room got hotter with the bear’s size.\n\n“How are you?...Why?... I am on drugs that’s it. I took something or was hit with something,” I nervously reasoned.\n\n“Nope, I am the devil. Let me explain. Every so often I choose a sad miserable human to follow around and fuck with for shits and giggles. Sometimes, I reveal myself for my entertainment,” the devil cackled as he said that.\n\n“But I’ve had you since...”\n\n“Since you were a baby. I am the reason your father left you. I am the reason you shit yourself in second grade and got bullied throughout school. I am the reason your pants fell down during an assembly. I am not the reason everyone pointed and laughed. I got lucky. Why every school rejected you except for that shitty community college this guy. The cocaine in the back that got you kicked out and arrested. Moi. I only gave you a girlfriend so she could breakup with you,” the devil mocked.\n\n“Well, what now,” I ask nervously.\n\n“Well, now you accidentally called your exgirlfriend via Skype a few minutes ago. She sees you having a nervous breakdown and talk to yourself. The authorities have been contacted. You will be involuntarily hospitalized for a bit,” the devil laughed as he shrunk to normal size.\n\nI immediately turn around to see my ex crying in the camera. I try to explain what happened, but she won’t listen. The authorities take me away. At first, I think it is good as I am far away from that bear. \n\nDay one in the hospital. The doctor comes into my room.\n\n“We decided to let you have a harmless item from home for comfort,” the doctor smiled and set the teddy bear down in the room. As he left, I saw the bear smirk at me.\n\nEDIT: wow this blew up. Thank you to everyone for the kind words. Also, to those in the comment section saying Barry, I am a Flash fan so love the joke." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Just like a normal person you all age. Until you hit 18. You stop aging until you meet your soulmate so you can grow old together. You've been killing your soulmates for centuries granting you eternal life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*”W…h…y?”* She gurgled out, spilling blood onto my lap. Looking into my eyes like a pet being euthanized, she knows what’s going on but doesn’t know why. \n\nI stay silent, after all it’s an emotional moment… killing someone.\n\nI stroke my hand through her hair, holding her in place. Her body twitches as she struggles against the paralysis medication I dosed her with before I slit her throat. I wait with her until she is gone, it’s the least I can do. I’m *not* a monster. I feel bad for doing this. But she uttered those three stupid words…\n\n*I love you*. \n\nPeter Pan was right, growing up sucks. The concept of love is drilled into us in our teenage years. Society telling us how wonderful it is to be in love, grow up, and gain new freedoms as you age. I watched my parents grow old, and they didn’t look like they loved each other. They fought, argued, and wasted time together watching television. They aged but they didn’t look like they love each other. I didn’t want their life, I didn’t want to have a family and work for a living. It seemed easier if I could just stay young forever.\n\nLike most teenagers, I was put into the dating pool when I was 15. The idea is I would go on multiple dates with potential matches and eventually find the one I would like to be with. My first girlfriend *Jessica* I met shortly after turning 17, and she told me she loved me on my 18th birthday. \n\nI killed her a few weeks later thinking if I never date anyone, I would never grow old.\n\n Lucy was my eighteenth kill, the seventh one this year. The longer a person stays in the dating pool the more desperate the system is to pair you with someone. She told me she loved me after our third date while at my house, that’s when I decided to paralyse her and slit her throat. She must’ve been desperate. I did what I had to do to guarantee she wasn’t stealing my youth. After all the pool does promote a 93% success rate on matches, and no one knows when the aging process exactly starts. \n\nA few days later my phone rings, it was an officer from the dating pool informing me another one of my dates has failed to report if the date was completed or not. I told her she never showed, I’ve been running out of excuses.\n\n“Oh, she failed to show up? That’s the 2nd one this month.” The officer questioned on the phone. \n\n“Yeah, I’m just as frustrated as you are. I really want to find someone.” I mentioned. There are fines and community services for people who don’t go through the dating pool process. One also can’t just say they don’t feel it either without sufficient reasoning or proof. After my fourth report I had to send to the agency I found *killing* my dates to be easier and would be the police’s problem and not mine. \n\n“Well lucky for you I took a personal interest in your case history. I believe I’ve found the perfect girl. I’ll organize a dinner date for you two at *Fran’s Diner* for 6pm next Thursday.” The officer spoke, given me the time for the next date. I had to comply. \n\nFran’s Diner is one of the places owned by the Dating Pool. It’s a place for first time daters to meet, have a milkshake, and a burger. It’s setup to be a 1950’s diner. I sit in my booth sipping on my strawberry milkshake waiting for Ami to arrive. According to Ami’s sheet I was given, she loves music, movies, reading, and television. Pretty much everything everyone likes but just with slight variations. She seemed as thrilling on paper as vanilla yogurt. \n\n“Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re David?” Ami spoke, sitting across from me. She appears to be a bit older than I am, maybe mid-twenties. Her hair is dyed red matching her red dress. \n\n“Yes, what’s up?” I asked. \n\n“You look like you just got out of pre-school.” She said with disgust, eyeing me. It’s true, I’ve been 18 for a few years now. We seem to be out of each other’s age range. Yet, I do like how forward and aggressive she is being with me. \n\n“Hey now, I’m 18. Besides, you’re what? 26 or something. I wouldn’t be bragging if I was you.” I shot back. \n\nThe dating pool has a high percentage rate for a reason.\n\nI loved her after our first meeting. After trading insults we decided to tell each other secrets to find out what exactly we had in common, and after two hours and three milkshakes each later we determined it was the fear of growing up. Yet, I wasn’t scared of growing up as long as it was with her.\n\n------------\n\nYears passed, and I’m in my mid-twenties. I enjoy my time with Ami, it’s like songs on the radio, *just like heaven*. She is smart, cheeky, and sarcastic. A great compliment to my personality. Ami is pushing 30 now, and I’m in my mid-twenties. I’ve been scared of growing up for years, and the last year I’ve been showing my age. I’m no longer young looking and I’m starting to grow a healthy beard. I’m growing up. That’s when I thought about killing her tonight, so I can stop aging.\n\nOne night in bed, after sex we’re cuddling each other. I told her a secret. \n\n“I thought about killing you today.” \n\n“Same here.” She whispered back.\n\n**OOC** [BY POPULAR DEMAND A SEQUEL THAT WON'T LIVE UP TO THIS ONE](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8pr271/wp_just_like_a_normal_person_you_all_age_until/e0eaviv/?st=ji83qfhk&sh=9bc6af9d)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Well that explains a lot”\n\nMy wife turned towards me with horror clearly written across her face. She didn’t seem to be in the mindset to respond so I kept going.\n\n“Do use the caverns under the house? My base is on the north end about half a mile underground”\n\n“Wait what?!”\n\n“Oh yeah, hold on”\n\nI walk towards my closet and push a hidden switch at the back, causing the wall to slide apart revealing a battered super suit.\n\n“You know, I have to hand it to you. Those acid bombs really did a number on me,” I said patting the half melted garment.\n\n“So I’ve been trying to kill my husband for the past two years!”\n\n“Not like I held back either.”\n\nWe both finally looked at each other, realized how insane this situation was, and broke down laughing. Once we had spent an eternity cackling and returned to giggles she gasped out,\n\n“Wait on three where’s the secret entrance? One. Two. Bathroom”\n\n“Garage”\n\n“That’s why you’re always ‘working on your car’”\n\n“Hey I never lied, you just never asked which. And that explains why you always walk out of the bathroom when I get home!”\n\n“*That’s* what you notice! Not the freshly stocked fridge?”\n\n“The fridge is an added bonus to seeing you”\n\nWe hugged for what seemed like a second eternity.\n\n“You know dear, we should probably go see a therapist. Or a counselor.”\n\n“Probably” she agreed, “You know Daemon is a good guy to talk to?”\n\n“Really?! That red lizard!”\n\n“Don’t let him hear you call him that!”\n\n“Fiiiine. Lizard *person*”\n\n“Close enough,”\n\n*6 months later*\n\n“Neither Morrigan or Licht have been seen since their last battle. Is it possible that they have both perished? Or simply retired? More on that at-“ *click*\n\nWelp the news thinks we’re dead. Not the worst outcome. “Hey didn’t you say you knew a guy who opened up a neutral zone bar a while back?”\n\n“Yeah. Why?” My wife asked sitting next to me on the couch.\n\n“I’m thinking of a coffee shop.”\n\n“You do make a good cup. I’m guessing you want me as either the cook or accountant?”\n\n“I’m not sure whether you’re calling me dumb or a terrible cook,”\n\n“Your meatloaf gave me the idea to try to burn down city hall with all of its politicians still inside,”\n\n“Fair enough. Though I’ll admit I was tempted to show up late for that occasion,”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "During a bank robbery you're surprised when the criminals seem to recognize you and retreat in fear. Only later do you learn that your high school sweet-heart now runs a global crime syndicate and has you placed on a \"No Harm\"list. You decide to pay them a visit after all these years." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's amazing how much people change after high school. Chard Burkheart was the star quarterback in high school, the most popular guy in school. Now he works at a gas station with a pot belly and no hair. Dave Spellerman went from bullied nerd to Internet billionaire. All that time spent on a computer really paid off for him. \n\nAnd then there's Rosalyn \"Roz\"Churchill went from my childhood friend to my high school flame to leader of the criminal underground. That one was definitely a curveball.\n\nAll I wanted to do was use the ATM. Then some thugs in ski masks bust in and hold me at gunpoint, threatening to shoot me if they didn't open the register. I thought it was all over until the weirdest damn thing happened. See, one of the guys took my wallet and started pocketing all my cash. But when they saw my driver's license, this tough, beefy criminal starts freaking out. \n\n\"It's him! It's the guy on the \"No Harm\"list! We just held Mike Peterson at gunpoint!\"\n\nOne of the other guys grabbed my wallet, looked inside, and just froze. \"Oh shit,\"he said. \"If Roz finds out, we're fucking dead!\"So the thugs just drop my wallet on the ground and pulls some money out of his pocket. He hands it to me and tells me \"please don't tell Roz. It was a mistake, honestly!\"Then they ran out of there as fast as they could. And I was left standing there as everyone in the bank looked at me, wondering what the hell just happened. No way it could be *that* Roz...right?\n\nRoz was one of those girls you only think exist in movies. The girl that comes into your life to turn it upside down, that wild and rebellious girl who gets you to loosen up and enjoy life. She did ever since we were kids and when high school came around I gathered up the courage to ask her out. We dated for a few years but when college rolled around, we realized we were heading separate ways in life. So we broke up, very amicably, and eventually lost touch. It wasn't until I started tracking her down that I realized she had even come back to town. \n\nFinding her location was surprisingly easy. I drove into the shadier part of town and started asking around. Whenever I said her name, their faces would get deathly pale. Some just ran away, terrified for their lives. The ones who didn't filled me in. Apparently, Roz is basically the queen of some massive criminal organization with influence all over the world. She's basically the queen of crime. No one even jaywalks without getting her permission. Those who disobeyed her had a habit of disappearing. \n\nI couldn't believe it. Roz, some evil mastermind? She was one of the sweetest people on the planet. No way she was some sort of super mafia boss. As I dug deeper, I learned that she apparently put me on a \"No Harm\"list. Though it wasn't much of a list as I was apparently the only one on it. None of her old friends or even her family made it on the list (which wasn't surprising considering the strained relationship she had with her parents). Roz decreed that anyone who tried to harm me in any way was to be killed. After a little more digging, I finally found what I was looking for- the address of her headquarters.\n\nSo I here I was, standing outside of some abandoned looking warehouse, about to meet my criminal ex-girlfriend. All in all, not how I expected to spend my Saturday. I walked to the entrance and some big bouncer looking type stopped me. \"Sir, I'm gonna half to ask you to leave.\"\n\n\"Look, I'm here to see Roz, she's an old friend of mine and-\"Without warning, the guy started walking towards me. He reached for a gun and cocked it.\n\n\"Sir, no on sees the boss. Now, please leave or I will *make* you leave.\"\n\nI put my hands up defensively and shouted \"My name is Mike Peterson! Please, I just want to talk to Roz!\"\n\nThe guy's face looked pale and he backed up immediately. \"Mike Peter- my apologies sir, I didn't know!\"He then got on his knees and started begging. \"Please, *please* don't tell the boss about this! I wouldn't have done it if I had known who you were!\"\n\n\"Uh, sure,\"I said, wanting to move this along as quickly as possible before it got more awkward. \n\nThe guy got up and walked back to the door, holding it open for me. He was sweating now, his facing showing pure terror. \"Please, sir, after you.\"I steeled myself for what would happen next and walked in.\n\nI expected a lot of things. But I didn't expect to see Roz sitting on a golden throne atop a massive pile of money.\n\nThe guard approached the pile and said \"Ma'am, Mike Peterson has come to speak with you.\"\n\nRoz looked like she was in intense thought about something but once she heard my name she turned her attention to me, her face beaming with joy. \"Mikey! Oh my gosh, it is you!\"She slid down the money pile and gave me a massive hug. \"I missed you so much. You look good. Gosh, what's it been, 10? 12 years?\"\n\n\"Yeah, just about. I see you've been...busy,\"I said, motioning to the pile.\n\n\"Oh, yes, it's been a great quarter. But with the upcoming expansions I expect to see some massive improvements. Come on, let's catch up.\"With that, Roz took my hand and led me to an elevator. She pushed a button and we went down. \n\nTurns out the place was way bigger than I thought. Underneath the warehouse were greenhouses for pot, crates full of guns, and tables of people counting stacks of $100 bills. She even had a private jet down here. As we walked through warehouse, Roz told me all about how she ended up here. Selling pot to pay for college, which became a lucrative business. She hired some people to help and the operation grew to selling illegal imports, from Kinder eggs to assault rifles. The money she earned helped pay for high-tech equipment to set up other branches of her \"business\"all around the world. Plenty of gangs and mafias were against her taking over but they were either taken down or forced to join. In just over a decade, Roz became the criminal mastermind of the world. She even had enough power to influence government policies and could even control the elections. She had become the shadow government ruling the world behind the curtain.\n\n\"So after cementing my authority,\"Roz continued. \"I decided I should use my newfound power for good. And because of that, the world is a safer place. Crime is dropping every year, Mike. Sure, some crazy guy starts murdering people every once in a while. We can't control that. But drug trafficking, armed robberies, even political corruption? That we can control.\"\n\n\"Wow, Roz. I'll admit, your means are...unorthodox. But you've definitely made the world a better place.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Mike,\"she said, wrapping her arms around my neck. \"I always regretted losing touch with you. I know we had to go our separate ways but I always wanted to reconnect with you. That's why I came back, why I put you on the list. I wanted to see you again and catch up. Maybe grab a bite to eat. Like the good old days.\"\n\nI stared into her eyes for what seemed like eternity and I felt like I did in high school all over again. Just me and her, nothing else. I missed this feeling. I missed Roz. \"I'd like that,\"I said finally.\n\n\"Oh, I almost forgot,\"she said. \"I've got another surprise for you.\"She ushered me over to the other side of the room. All I could think about was how little she changed. She was still that spunky girl, carving her own path to save the world. Sure she did it through organized crime but the at least it was organized. She was still that same kindhearted girl I fell in love with all those years ago. \n\nShe led me to a dimly lit room at the far end of the basement level. Inside, bound and gagged, were three men. They looked terrified but Roz was practically beaming with pride. \"So, what do you think?\"\n\n\"Roz, who are these people?\"\n\n\"These are the no good dirty thugs who held you at gunpoint at the bank. I had my men track them down and bring them here to educate them.\"With that, Roz whipped out a handgun and loaded a clip. She pointed it at the one on the left and slowly drifted it across all three of them. \"Now,\"she said. \"Which one of you little shits put a gun to my Mikey's head?\"\n\nOkay, maybe she wasn't the *exact* same kindhearted girl I fell in love with.\n\nEDIT: HOLY FUCKING SHIT I FINALLY STRUCK GOLD! Not gonna lie, I half-assed this story at 2AM and was too tried to proofread it. I honestly thought it was kind of meh but I liked the prompt and I already spent so much time on it so I posted anyway. Guess I'm just too hard on myself. To read more of my work, check out my award-winning novel that I've totally started. It's coming out soonish, I promise!\n\nEDIT 2: I wanted to write part 2 in the comments below but it got really long. So I created a brand new subreddit to post it right [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/mikesonofpeter/comments/81weik/wp_during_a_bank_robbery_youre_surprised_when_the/). Come over to r/mikesonofpeter to read the conclusion to this story. Who knows, maybe I'll write more there?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In a world where people receive mystical pets upon 16 yrs of age, you are judged based on how powerful they are. Today on your 16th birthday, you finally got yours. But instead of the common faun or fairy you expected, a commoner like you got a dragon." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My father's animal was a goose, his father's a goose. My brother's a goose. My sister's a goose.\n\nAs I stood at the front of the assembled crowds in the grand hall of the school, it was almost a foregone conclusion. I too, would have a goose.\n\nAs a precaution, guards stood close by to handle any of the more powerful spirits that occasionally materialised. Even horses could buck or send a student flying with a stray kick, but things like tigers and lions were one in a million.\n\nI could see my friends laughing near the front. Tom already had his spirit animal perched atop his shoulder, a fine white eagle. He was the talk of the school. Fred was doubled over laughing, and I could just make out his jokes about \"the guards saving us from the power of the goose.\"\n\nIdiots.\n\nGeese were actually fantastic spirit animals. Kind, affectionate, and very territorial. But they weren't going to change your life, or win you any fans.\n\nThe headteacher approached, holding the stone of the summoning.\n\n\"The spirit approaches!\"\n\nThe stone acted as a signal for when the spirit would manifest, and my stone was finally burning a full and bright green, which was normal for spirit stones to do.\n\nThen it turned red.\n\nThe headteacher dropped it as flame began to lick at its edges.\n\n\"What in the world...\"he began as gasps escaped form the student crowd.\n\nGolden wisps began to circle around me in the air, growing in size and number before concentrating behind me in a gust of wind.\n\nA mighty roar exploded from my back , pushing me and the crowd off our feet. No goose made that kind of sound.\n\nAs I rose from my feet and turned, everyone else began to run from the hall.\n\nMy heart stopped.\n\n\"If that is a goose, then I am a rabbit,\"the headteacher said as he stood, unblinking.\n\nIt was one helluva goose.\n\nStanding 20ft tall, with scales as black as night and monstrous wings that tucked into its side against the pressing space in the hall, my dragon stood, its clawed feet crunching into the wooden floor beneath them. Its eyes flicked to and fro, as if scared. One burned red, the other a glacier-like blue. Small squawk like sounds escaped its huge mouth lined with rows of sharp teeth.\n\nThe headteacher without moving, spoke. \"Garen, the first moments after the awakening are the most important. You must bond with your animal, or have it run amok. Usually this is not a problem, but in this case I implore you to please, connect with your spirit, and bestow upon it a name. Before we all are killed.\"\n\nAll the students had left the hall. The guards that had initially fled had reformed around the perimeter, more joining their ranks with long spears by the second.\n\nScreaming could still be heard around the hall, as the panic spread.\n\nDespite my pounding heart, I knew what I had to do. Slowly, I approached the monstrous beast. My beast, I kept telling myself. My beast.\n\nI walked through its talon like legs, eyeing the spiked tail that began whipping at its side as I came closer.\n\nIt's eyes locked with mine, and it dipped his head. Heat rippled the air between us, stifling and dry.\n\nI reached out my hand, and it flinched away, before returning. My palm pressed against the scales on its forehead, the huge balls of red and blue light closing as I felt its power, felt its very essence.\n\n\"Give it a name , Garen, hurry!\"the headteacher cried behind me.\n\nMy mind was blank, but I knew I had to hurry. The tail whipping around at its back became more violent, smashing the stage and ornaments at the edges of the hall.\n\n\"I name thee...Goose.\"\n\nInstantly the Dragon became calm, settling his writhing movements and the violent smashings of its tail.\n\nThe headteacher visibly sagged, and relaxed, signalling to the guards to stand-down.\n\nBreathing heavy, I took my hand off it's head and turned to the headteacher. He walked up to me and smiled.\n\n\"Garen, well done my boy. This is a truly historic occasion that will no doubt send shockwaves through our world. You and this Dragon are going to be famous! What did you name it?\"\n\n\"Goose,\"I could barely say as I tried to calm my rampaging emotions, still feeling the heavy and hot breathing of the dragon at my back.\n\nThe headteacher almost fell over laughing, \"You called it goose? Haha, my boy, that is brilliant, and true to your family. He may be the most magnificent goose ever to live.\"\n\n\"Now,\"he continued,\"let us see how we can get this thing out of the hall.\"\n\nr/fatdragon :) Would love for people to check out my [current serial, Excalibur! I](https://www.reddit.com/r/FatDragon/comments/c4cqn5/excalibur_story_part_1_the_awakening/)ts up to 26 parts, and is all about a young girl finding the legendary sword, and the crazy adventure that ensues. thanks!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Humans blood gets darker the more evil we do. One day you are suspected of murder, they draw your blood to test if you are truely a murderer. You blood is a clear white. You realize that you can get a way with almost everything now, seeing as to how you actually did commit the murder." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They all watched.\n\nThe guards, standing by the door with their hands on their guns, eyes fixated on me, searching for the slightest flicker of movement.\n\nThe nurse, with the needle in her hand - and her friend, by the door. Both were clearly uncomfortable, but just as clearly used to this kind of business.\n\n\"Are you about ready yet?\"I said finally, glaring at the nurse as she dropped the clear plastic package for the third time.\n\n\"Quiet,\"one of the guards snapped, stepping closer.\n\nI sighed, rolling my head over so that I could smile winningly at him. \"I'm just *asking*,\"I said, raising my hands the few inches I could before the restraints caught me.\n\n\"Just leave him, Greg,\"his friend said, still staring at me. \"Fucking sicko. Just another few minutes.\"\n\n\"Sorry,\"the nurse said, casting a glance over her shoulder at them. \"I-I'm sorry. I'll get started now.\"\n\nThey only nodded. I frowned, the stink of rubbing alcohol sharp in my nose as she swabbed my arm.\n\n\"A prick would be enough,\"I said dryly. It was true. The more evil one committed, the more wrong they did, the more it changed them. Physically, mentally, spiritually. It tarnished them.\n\nAnd that tarnish showed plain and clear in the blood.\n\n\"Shut the fuck up,\"the guard said, advancing on me again. \"I saw what you did to her. Don't think-\"\n\n\"Greg!\"his friend snapped, grabbing him by the elbow. \"That's enough!\"\n\nI winced despite myself at the bite of the needle.\n\nI understood *why* they wanted more than just a drop, of course. The legal system wanted things to be clear, to be definitive. It was simple enough to plant a drop of blood - and another matter entirely to besmirch an entire vein.\n\nAnd yet...\n\nThe nurse's eyes widened as the syringe drew back, pulling only a clear, flawless white from my arm.\n\n\"I'll be damned,\"the second guard muttered, running a hand through his hair.\n\n\"No. No goddamn way,\"Greg spat. The sound of boots on the linoleum floor rang out loud. I had a single moment to turn, bracing myself, before his fist caught me on the cheek.\n\n\"Greg!\"the second guard bellowed. I wasn't looking. It was all I could do to stay huddled, trying desperately to shield my face from blow after blow.\n\n\"It's a trick!\"Greg roared, struggling to free himself from his friend's hold. \"I *saw* her! There's no way!\"\n\nAn alarm was ringing, somewhere nearby. I heard the sound of other voices, all yelling as they pounded into the room.\n\nSomeone was freeing the restraints from around my wrists. I smiled.\n\nThey saw the truth of it, then. Good.\n\nI wasn't evil. I hadn't murdered anyone.\n\n---\n\nA few hours and a mountain of paperwork later, I was on the street with a heartfelt apology from the police department and rising bruises on my face. I took it all in stride, offering only a smile before heading on my way.\n\nI wasn't angry. It wasn't their fault - even Greg, there. He was only doing what he thought best, protecting the world from a threat. So he thought.\n\nIt was an admirable goal, if misguided. I was hardly a threat, after all. We were on the same side.\n\nI chuckled, shaking my head at the thought. What would he think, to know that we were in this together? To know that he'd been punching his greatest ally?\n\nOh, she'd looked pretty enough, on the outside. Cheerful and bright, all smiles and sunshine and butterflies. But I'd seen through it. They could never hide from me. Not for long.\n\nI'd seen the way she kicked that man, down with his cup in hand on the curb. I'd seen her sneer.\n\nShe hadn't been so pretty with blood dripping down her neck.\n\nIt wasn't wrong, I knew. It wasn't an act of evil, to put a monster out of it's misery.\n\nIt was a service - I'd known it. And the sight of the pure, flawless blood sliding out of my veins had been all the confirmation I needed.\n\nThe sound of someone yelling from across the street caught my attention. I paused, half turning.\n\nA man dragged his dog down the sidewalk, belllowing into his phone. It stopped, sniffing at a hydrant - and the man didn't so much as pause. He just swore loudly, lifting it off the ground by the leash and aiming a kick its way.\n\nThe sound of pained yelping rang loud in the crisp air.\n\nI fixed the man in my mind, memorizing his every feature, every detail and line and item of clothing.\n\nWhat a monster.\n\n(/r/inorai, critique always welcome!)\n\nEdit since I'm getting lots of comments on it xD - I've watched a grand total of I think 2 episodes of Psycho-Pass, back in college (years ago). So, any similarities are definitely cool, but not intentional :)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Aliens invade Earth. Turns out Human weapons technology is way more advanced than it should be." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There are many constants in the universe.\n\nThe speed of light.\n\nGravity.\n\nThe expansion of the Zzt Empire.\n\nClack Zenruus, Imperial Head of the Milky Way Colonial Force, settled into his command chair, his tentacles flapping about in contentment. It was a great gift to be given a galaxy. Of course, he had served the Empire long. Millennia. From clone to clone he had moved, slowly ingratiating himself to the Empress, May She Reign Forever, and this was his reward.\n\nClack was looking forward to establishing his Family once this galaxy was pacified. Preliminary scans indicated relatively few instances of life and a paucity of advanced life. Not that it would matter. The Zzt Empire expanded and all who stood before them were crushed.\n\nZzt had the advantage of understanding war. Few civilizations did. In the seven hundred and thirty four galaxies Zzt had pacified, there were only two civilization that had developed a concept of conflict. Most looked to the stars and assumed there was ample room for growth and merely focused on progressing toward the endless opportunity. Zzt originated on a world with few resources, where their population grew faster than they reached the stars, creating conflict and bottlenecks. It was the Empress that had pacified the rival clans, reducing the demand on resources and opening the gateway to the stars.\n\nBut Zzt carried their history with them. They remembered war. They recognized the power of controlling resources before others could.\n\nSo they pacified. Scrubbing the galaxy clean of all sentient life to make way for the establishment of a new Family. Once Clack competed his mission, this galaxy would host his own Family.\n\nA great honor.\n\nThe Milky Way Galaxy had thrown up surprisingly few obstacles, which disappointed and invigorated Clack. As creature of conquest, he enjoyed the experience of extermination, something the largely barren galaxy did not offer. Of course, every world moved into the Empire was a world closer to his Family.\n\nThere was one gem though. A highly habitable planet the third from a stable yellow star. A single world civilization occupied it, but their removal would be of little consequence. There was some indication that they had developed the ability to project objects out of their atmosphere, but they had not discovered space\\-bending, a relatively simple and highly efficient means of travel.\n\nThis would be a simple matter.\n\nAs they bended into the system, the Imperator deployed the landing pods, each warping to the surface in a blink of an eye. He ordered a full scale assault, committing the vast majority of his armed forces to the effort, leaving just himself and his navigators behind. His tentacles suckered across the command counsel, pulling and twisting at knobs until a visual feed from the surface pulled up.\n\nHe secreted an ooze from his extremities, common amongst the Zzt in moments of great pride. Conquest. He watched as his troops slimed across the landscape, leaving thick trails of mucous as they began their assault.\n\nClack noticed that the indigenous sentients were twice the size of a Zzt, though that mattered little once the Zzt's tentacle whips came into play. Closer the Zzt got, moving across the ground at a breakneck pace. The sentients appeared to be moving considerably faster, propelled about by a strange bipedal means of locomotion.\n\nNo matter. The tentacle whips would be their end.\n\nIn the distance, the bright flash of odd little lights appeared. Clack found that odd, he hadn't seen the like before.\n\nNor had he seen what came next.\n\nZzt everywhere began to explode, their tentacles flailing about as they were reduced to piles of viscera. In moments Clack watched the Imperial Guard be reduced to pulp.\n\n\"What is going on?\"Clack demanded, connecting with Overseer Click.\n\n\"We don't know. They are launching hyper\\-accelerated pellets of some sort.\"\n\n\"What of our protective membranes? Are they not sufficient to stop the assault?\"The membranes were impervious to even the fiercest of tentacles whips.\n\n\"No. The sentients are striking with the force of 34.3 megawhips.\"\n\n\"Thirty four point three...\"No other being in the galaxy had ever exceeded even a single megawhip. Tentacle whipping was state of the art as far as armaments went.\n\n\"Retreat! REGROUP!\"Clack saw his legacy disappear in front of him. The first ordered retreat of the billion orbits the Zzt Empire had existed. He would receive no Family.\n\nHis failure was absolute.\n\n\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\n\nAcross the field Bubba spit out a gob of chaw. \"What the hell do you think those things were?\"\n\n\"How should I know? They looked like big slugs.\"Billy replied, checking the chamber of his rifle and working the bolt action back and forth a bit. \"You see 'em explode?\"\n\n\"Yup.\"Bubba lovingly caressed his AR\\-15. \"Think we can get one mounted to put over the fireplace?\"\n\n\"Don't see why not. Put it right next to that buck you bagged last year.\"\n\nBubba nodded. \"Shame there ain't more. Wonder if they taste good.\"\n\n\"I ain't eatin' nothing with no tentacles.\"\n\nBubba shrugged, he'd tried calamari at one of them fancy restaurants Charlene dragged him to for their anniversary. It was all right. \"You just need the right dipping sauce.\"\n\n**Platypus out.**\n\n**Want more peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus, **you'll probably like Temple of Gifts if you liked this.**" } ]

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

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Due to a rare brain condition you've spent your entire life hallucinating the presence of a six foot tall penguin. You're on a date one day when you're asked \"So what's the deal with the penguin?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"So what's the deal with the penguin?\"she asked. The penguin turned and stared her dead in the eye. I choked on my pasta. \n\n\"Yeah,\"I said, after a long sip of water, \"what is The Penguin's deal anyway? He's just some guy with an umbrella gun. Like second worst Batman villain after the Riddler, am I right?\"I forced a smile. \n\n\"No, I mean the actual six foot tall penguin in the room.\"The penguin took a step towards her and she flinched. His wing knocked over a waiter walking by. \n\n\"Oh my god!\"my date screamed as she got to his feet. \n\n\"Must have tripped on a rug,\"the waiter muttered as I nodded. The penguin took three rapid steps towards my date and honked. \n\n\"There's a giant monster penguin right in front of me! Why isn't anyone doing anything?\"my date shrieked. Conversations came to a halt as all heads turned towards her. \n\nI shook my head as I stared her right in the eye. \"Katie... there's nothing there.\"\n\nShe kept apologizing as we finished our dinner in relative silence and I paid the bill. The penguin rode with us in the taxi. As she got out to go back home, the penguin took one long, last look at me. And it followed her out. \"Take care,\"I called. I was free. \n\n[subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You, a newly-turned vampire, are thrilled to discover that you CAN eat garlic, walk in sunlight, and see yourself in mirrors, all while being immortal. You are much less thrilled to discover the one major drawback that none of the legends ever got right." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I soar through the night sky, blind to the world as it was to me. \n\nI told myself it wasn’t so bad. Honestly, I tried. Immortality, hypnotic powers, hyper speed – you know, the usual vampire toolbox – it was pretty damn sweet. And let me tell you, you have not lived till you’ve tried AB negative blood. I’ve had full course meals (actual, like, mortal meals, I mean here) that don’t even come close to AB negative blood. Talk about an explosion of flavor. \n\nBut the nights…man. It really made me question the whole thing. \n\nIf I could do it over? Would I choose to go home with that red-haired girl after Halloween party and get subsequently turned? I mean, let’s be real here, probably. Immortality is pretty damn hard to beat. But, then again…I “looked” down at myself as I flew. \n\nNo use wondering, I suppose. Vampire or not, you couldn’t change the past.\n\nA smell wafted over to me from the edge of the forest. Very faint at first, but as my sense focused on it, it became sharper. No…it couldn’t be. I banked, moving toward it till I came upon a two people sitting around a…campfire, judging by the sound. My nostrils flared as I drunk in the scent. AB negative blood, from one of them. \n\nMy mouth started to water…figuratively. I don’t really have salivatory glands anymore, but it’s the thought that counts, right? \n\nI’ve been a vampire for a good while now, and I was mostly in control of the ah, let’s say, impulses. But AB negative…it was such a rarity. Such a pleasure that it was a struggle. A real struggle. But I had to wait till morning. I had to. I couldn’t go after them right now. \n\nBut then it happened. \n\nOne of them got up then cried out – a woman, I could tell by the voice – and fell. She cut herself. I couldn’t see it of course, but the smell. Oh, the smell. It magnified a thousandfold, and before I could catch myself, I was diving toward her, her open wound. I had to have her. I had to have that bloo-\n\nAnd I was swatted aside, almost into the fire, before making a hasty retreat. \n\nI “watched” nursing slightly singed wings as they got in their car and drove away. I couldn't even fly to follow them. \n\nI sighed, again, figuratively. The movies don’t tell you that vampires are forced turn into moquitos every night.\n\n***\n\nChanged bat to mosquito, since that is way funnier lol. Thank to /u/east_of_the_delplaya for the comment haha!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"Jesus take the wheel, Satan get behind me, Buddha... man the .50 cal\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The three looked between each other. There was no more time for words. No more words were necessary. \n\nThey knew their places.\n\nJesus swung into the driver's seat. It was the only real place for him, and there wasn't another option, when it came right down to it. Buddha didn't fit behind the wheel, and they'd both seen Satan at work on that flask inside his jacket through the day. No, Jesus would handle it.\n\nTheir wheels spun on the gravel. The others were circling, now. It was time. The final battle, the final fight to see who would win the game once and for all. Jesus and Satan teaming up was a given. The other candidates had complained - it wasn't fair - but complaining got them nowhere. \n\nThey all tried to pretend like they weren't going to do the exact same thing as soon as the opportunity presented itself. They looked between each other edgily, sizing the competition up. Picking teams.\n\nBuddha, on the other hand, was a surprise. What incentive did *he* have for working together with the terrible twosome? His smooth, expressionless face gave no hint of an answer as he clambered all the way up behind the gun mounted in the truck bed. His bare feet were steady on the metal floor, perfectly centered even as his girth swung disconcertingly. \n\n\"Here they come!\"Satan roared. He had elected himself shot-caller, of course, even though they hadn't set teams. Neither of the other two were surprised by *that*, either. He'd always needed to have the last word on things.\n\nThe first contenders were approaching. Muhammed was out front, leaning out the side door of a torn-up station wagon. He clutched a rocket launcher in his hands. They could see Shiva behind the wheel, grinning like a madcap as he spun the wheel. The overburdened little car nearabouts rode up on two wheels as they whipped into a donut.\n\n\"Shoot! Shoot! Now, goddammit! Why aren't you shooting yet?!\"Satan screamed. Jesus gritted his teeth, choosing to ignore the fact that his father's name was being taken in vain alongside him. Buddha was just watching, sizing up the shot. And then his meaty finger gripped the trigger.\n\nThe roar of the gun was deafening. Satan clapped his hands over his ears, roaring with laughter as the gleaming, glowing rounds arced out towards the station wagon. Shiva was swearing - they could see that much, even though his words were lost to distance and the racket. But they were spinning too fast. The ground between them erupted into shredded sand and mud.\n\nMuhammed wasn't waiting anymore. A plume of fire shot from the rocket launcher.\n\nEverything happened all at once, after that.\n\n\"Satan!\"Jesus cried. He, too, was turning now, but there was only so much he could be expected to do. He was supposed to be positioning them to attack. Defending them was-\n\n\"I got it, I got it! Don't get your robes in a bunch.\"Satan hissed. Defending them was *his* job. He lurched dangerously in his seat, barely holding on. But he pulled his hand up into an almost-level position, mimicking a gun.\n\n\"Bang.\"\n\nRed circles appeared endlessly around their truck. Something was coming up from underground.\n\n\"*Damn* it, Satan. Do you have to-\"\n\n\"Don't complain, big guy. Left. Left. Go-\"\n\nThe truck whipped into a left-hand turn, narrowly avoiding the black pillars shooting up around them. Jesus shook his head.\n\n\"I've *got it*. Stop backseat driving.\"\n\nThe other teams were coalescing, now. One after another, the deities were lining up for the big fight. They all knew. Whoever won this, would win the world. And none of them wanted to lose.\n\nHe could almost see them, if he squinted. Four sets of hooves, barely visible under the cloudline where they floated. Watching. Waiting. The final fight, for whoever crushed the competition here.\n\nHe winced. The little station wagon had just been slammed by a hummer. He could see Ra through the front window, glowing faintly from the shit-eating grin on his face. Oddly noodle-like tentacles were swarming out of the vehicle, attaching themselves to the station wagon. Which seemed to be *vanishing* into the mass of pasta.\n\n\"Drive! Drive!\"Satan screamed in his ear. The roar of the chaingun from the truck bed was almost a constant companion, now. \n\nJesus grinned, flexing his hands on the wheel.\n\nAnd then he drove.\n\n(/r/inorai, critiques always welcome. And going to head it off, I know that Buddha isn't really the fat jolly man statue most people associate with it, but, *most people associate that with him*.)\n\n~~Note - Another part or two is a possibility tonight when I get home, although this won't for obvious reasons be a long term project beyond that. If you want to be notified *should* that second part happen, leave a comment in the thread about this post on my sub. It's linked above :) I will notify anyone in that thread re: updates.~~\n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Inorai/comments/7dc6op/heavenly_pubg_part_2)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A terrorist group has been infiltrated by so many agencies that it is now run by spies, unbeknownst to the spies themselves. This fact becomes apparent to an actual extremist who joins their ranks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "FADE IN:\n\nINT. AN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE - NIGHT\n\n*Three men and a woman sit at a makeshift table, each of them facing what appears to be a haphazardly assembled stage. These are ALAN, STEVE, DAVE, and CHELSEA, respectively. Bare bulbs cast harsh illumination on the threadbare curtain, leaving the rest of the room in shadows.*\n\n**ALAN:** Okay, come on out.\n\n*The curtain is hesitantly pulled aside by a young man. This is ROBERT, a would-be terrorist.*\n\n**DAVE:** Introduce yourself, please. \n**ROBERT:** Uh... my name is, uh... Robert. \n**CHELSEA:** You're not really coming across as intimidating, Robert.\n\n*Robert ignores Chelsea, seemingly pretending that she isn't even present.*\n\n**STEVE:** I'll tell you right now, I just don't get a real commitment vibe from you. \n**ROBERT:** (*Shouting*) I am committed! I am dedicated to the cause!\n\n*Alan, Steve, Dave, and Chelsea all applaud.*\n\n**ALAN:** Much better! *Much* better! Now, Robert... what are you going to do for us today? \n**ROBERT:** ... What? \n**ALAN:** You don't think we let just *anyone* become a terrorist who wants to be one, do you? \n**STEVE:** That would be silly. \n**ALAN:** Right! So, what special talents can you bring to the table? \n**ROBERT:** I have a burning hatred for our oppressors. I have singleminded conviction. \n**CHELSEA:** That's really not enough, honey. That's like a singer saying \"it's my dream.\"\n\n*Chelsea leans forward.*\n\n**CHELSEA:** (*CONT'D*) Is it your dream to die for the cause?\n\n*Robert ignores Chelsea again.*\n\n**DAVE:** Are you going to answer her? \n**ROBERT:** Why is there a... *female*... here? Females are *inferior!*\n\n*Alan, Dave, and Steve react with shock and mild disgust.*\n\n**ALAN:** *Whoa!* Not okay, Robert! \n**STEVE:** Save that hatred for the cause, buddy. \n**DAVE:** No, wait, not for the cause.\n\n*Alan and Steve turn to look at Dave.*\n\n**STEVE:** What? \n**DAVE:** You're not supposed to hate the cause. You're supposed to *love* the cause. \n**STEVE:** You know what I meant. \n**DAVE:** Of course I do! Robert is new to the terrorism game, though. We don't want to confuse him. \n**ROBERT:** (*Shouting*) What the hell is going on?!\n\n*All eyes turn back to Robert.*\n\n**ROBERT:** (*CONT'D*) You're supposed to be a cell of ruthless killers! You're supposed to be dedicated to restoring morals and values!\n\n*Dave snorts.*\n\n**DAVE:** (*Muttering*) Morals and values through killing people...\n\n*He glances around at the other members of his group.*\n\n**DAVE:** (*CONT'D*) I mean, uh... heil hatred. \n**ALAN, STEVE, and CHELSEA:** Heil hatred! \n**ROBERT:** (*Screaming*) Stop, stop, *stop!* Is this a test?! Are you trying my sanity? \n**CHELSEA:** What's the problem? \n**ROBERT:** This isn't a recruitment! This is a goddamned \"American Idol\"audition! \n**ALAN:** No, it isn't. This is how terrorists recruit. \n**STEVE:** Totally. I've recruited, just... *so many* terrorists. \n**DAVE:** Me, too!\n\n*Robert stares at the group, mouth agape. After a moment, he sighs and speaks into the collar of his shirt.*\n\n**ROBERT:** Stand down, everyone. These are just a bunch of buffoons.\n\n*From all around the darkened warehouse, figures in combat gear walk into the light. Dave, Steve, Alan, and Chelsea gawk at the sudden appearance. Robert pulls out a badge.*\n\n**ROBERT:** (*CONT'D*) DHS. You're all under arrest. \n**DAVE:** Hey, wait! I'm FBI!\n\n*Dave pulls out a badge.*\n\n**STEVE:** Uh... CIA.\n\n*Steve also pulls out a badge.*\n\n**ALAN:** NSA. \n\n*ALAN pulls out his own badge. All eyes to turn Chelsea, who pulls out a detonator.*\n\n**CHELSEA:** (*Shouting*) Heil hatred!\n\nCUT TO BLACK." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You; the game's hero, reach the end of your journey. The evil has been slain, the entire nation celebrates in the streets and now, the beautiful Princess you saved very publicly confesses her love and offers you her hand in marriage, thing is; you married the cute NPC who sold you potions." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Princess, I understand you're upset but...\"Began our Hero, shifting uncomfortably back and forth. \n\n\"No, NO, I will not hear it, it is stated in the prophesy and that is the end of it.\"Replied the princess, pacing to and fro, marking the imaginary chalkboard that engulfed her mind. \"I will make the arrangements and the wedding will be at the spring equinox, as has been foretold in the-\"\n\n\"Princess, I love Hilna!\"Said our Hero, slamming his boot heel to the cobblestone floor.\n\nThe princess paused her frantic pacing to regard his outburst. She then continued on unperturbed mumbling plans to herself and occasionally barking orders at her attendants. \n\n\"Princess, I know this is hard to understand. I admit there were times along our adventure where my emotions got the better of me and some of my actions may have been, eh, misconstrued. The simple truth is that I don't see you like that.\"Offered our Hero sympathetically.\n\nThe Princess halted in her tracks and locked eyes with our hero. She slithered towards him and constricted her face. \"Listen you rat,\"she hissed, \"I don't give two goblin teeth who you do or do not love. For the past month I have been held prisoner in a dark kings dungeon. Speaking generally, that causes the population to lose faith in their ruler being able to protect them. Which leads to rebellions. Are you seeing my issue here, *hero*? I need to look strong and stable. And what better way to do that than to marry up with the man who slaughtered the evil king?\"She finished cheerily.\n\nOur Hero strained his neck backwards, away from the Princess. He coughed slightly and began to back towards the door. Two guards quickly locked halberds across the oaken door sealing him with his self appointed lover.\n\n\"Princess, I advise you reconsider. The people love you, the inhabitants are happy.\"Our hero tried vainly to placate the witch. \n\n\"Yes, yes the rubes in the fields will follow whatever half-baked theology I get men in white robes to spew at them. Speaking of, they will be the ones to arrange out matrimony ceremony. Some babble about light and forces.\"\n\n\"Princess, I beg you! I did not emancipate you to be promptly thrust into the very nightmare I have just liberated you from!\"Sputtered our Hero, watching the guards slowly encroach upon him.\n\n\"Do you truly believe that was the last enemy that will attempt to intrude upon my kingdom? Nay, my enemies are numerous and eclectic. They see weakness miles away. They wait, perched upon my parapets, concealed within my courts. You shall be my protection from that, or rather the idea of you will. Mighty hero willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to save his queen, all foretold in prophecy. No one would be foolish enough to stop me.\"She finished proudly, staring at her prisoner through a row of armed guards. \n\n\"You've gone mad!\"Said our hero, crashing against the guards barring his way. Their numbers proved too many and our hero could not prevent his own capture. Subdued, our hero was brought in shackles to face the princess.\n\nThe princess clucked her tongue and wagged her finger. \"Throw him in the keep for a week. That will show the brute manners.\"\n\n\n_________\n\n\n\n\"Hilna, where are you going dear?\"\n\n\"I don't know Grandma. I had a bad dream and I think my Hero needs me.\"\n\n\"Very well my child, but take this.\"She said handing Hilna a small sword wrapped in rose silk. \"It will let you decide your fate.\"\n\nHilna's jaw was clenched and the fires of passion burned through her eyes. She nodded once and went into the tempestuous night. \n " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are immortal, but no one knows. You are given a life sentence in prison, and you laugh thinking about the confusion to come at the end of your sentence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It took them twenty years to notice I wasn't aging and report it to some relevant authority. Twenty years, three wardens, four cell blocks, forty-one sessions in solitary.\n\n\"Why is he so tan?\"the lead physician said to the transfer agents.\n\n\"He came in that way,\"one them replied. \"Twenty years ago.\"\n\nThe physician's name was Elizabeth Torvald, and I became her life's work. I was held in a high-security medical facility for forty years. She took skin samples, blood samples, hair, saliva, semen, you name it. As technology evolved, her team performed full-body scans and genetic analyses. By my count, Dr. Torvald's team created about thirty potential vaccines for death, and all of them failed. \n\nShe refused to retire until she was eighty, when they forced it upon her. That's when she ordered the full vivisection. That's when I killed sixteen of them.\n\nSo back to prison I went. This time, it was a triple-supermax secret prison in a converted mine. It was located ... somewhere. In America, I think. There were only a handful of prisoners there, and we were all kept in solitary confinement.\n\nFor the first hundred years, I made friends with guards and their replacements, who were often their own children. They were all military police. We played lots of poker.\n\nFor the next hundred years, they attempted to keep all prisoners in some sort of drug-induced stasis. Five of them died, but it had no effect on me. I was wide awake unless I didn't want to be. This was the century of nanomedicine, and I was repeatedly pumped full of invisible machines to map every pore and corner. Nineteen different scientific teams tried to discover the secret to my longevity, with varying results - some gave up, others went crazy, and one team destroyed itself convinced they'd discovered immortality, each trying to steal it.\n\nAfter three hundred years, my tan began to fade.\n\nIn the fourth century, they stopped feeding us. A guard would come through about once a year for a cursory inspection. He never looked me in the eyes. The only two left were a female prisoner and me. She had been down there for about a century, and had clearly lost her mind. We could see each other through our transparent doors, but we couldn't hear each other. She took her clothes off and scratched her arms bloody for six years straight. She began to wither, at first slowly, and then quite rapidly. After seventy years, the fingers of her left hand fell off. Not long after that, she was a pile of bones.\n\nIn the fifth century, I was alone. There were loud concussions far above me, so powerful the whole mine shook. Nuclear, maybe. Not long after that, the power began to fail. \n\nIn the sixth century, I lived in the dark. I napped a lot. The prison grew cold and damp. I guessed that there must have been a filtration system that kept the humidity low, maybe a pump system to siphon out subterranean water. Those had failed.\n\nIn the seventh century, the walls began to crumble. After a decade of trying, I managed to pull a leg off of my bunk. I scraped at the walls, and sometimes at the edges of the door.\n\nIn the eighth century, after one hundred fifteen years of scraping and digging, I broke through the cell wall. It was stone, and behind it was a flooded passageway. The water had been eating away at the wall for some time. \n\nFor two years I swam, lost in the dark. For two years I drowned, over and over again.\n\nFinally, I found a passage to an iron landing. There was a ladder that led up to a rubble-filled chamber, and from there, a sealed blast door.\n\nI don't know how long it took to get through the blast door.\n\nWhen I got outside, the first thing I did was sink my toes in the grass. There was grass everywhere, and trees, and evidence of life. Deer prints, droppings of horses. I could tell that there had been roads here once, but the grass had devoured them. I spied the faint outline of a wide road heading east, and decided to follow it. I wasn't sure where it would lead, but it would give me time to work on my tan. I knew that a rare steak was too much to ask, but maybe I'd find a beer along the way. Maybe a cigar, a new pair of shoes, a day in the sun.\n\n---\n\nEDIT: I'm tinkering with a back story [here](https://www.reddit.com/user/preston_stone/comments/6co058/dark_eyes/).\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Demons have to do at least one evil thing every day to survive. This one comes to your bakery everyday to buy bread for the homeless kids and steal exactly one cookie." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I've seen some weird shit in my day, no doubt about that, but nothing beats a demon apparating in my bakery one minute past closing every night. Not to steal my soul or torture me, no. \n\nTo order bread. \n\nA dozen loaves of our biggest rye, nutritionally dense and flavorful. \n\nThe first time he showed up, I tried to clobber him with a rolling pin. That didn't work very well. Thankfully, he didn't kill me right then and there. \n\n\"A dozen,\"he snarled through sharp teeth. \n\n\"A- a dozen of what?\"I'd asked, the rolling pin rattling in my trembling hand. We're a bakery, after all, and sell more than just bread. Not that he cares. \n\n\"Twelve of something filling,\"was all he offered in response. I filled a box with a dozen loaves of rye, and in a passing glance, noticed him swipe a cookie. I wasn't about to call a demon out on shoplifting. \n\nWhen I handed him the box, he gave me a twenty dollar bill. Real tender, not some kind of hellish Monopoly money. No idea where he got it, or why he didn't just take it and leave, but I accepted it quietly and watched him shape-shift into a boorish, lumbering human man and leave. \n\nAfter a week of it, I followed him, watching from a distance. Down Main Avenue, into a dark alleyway near an overpass. It wasn't a comfortable walk, being in a poorer part of town, but I had to know why. \n\nThen I saw him handing the bread out in a homeless camp. Kids and old men alike stuffed into ragged tents; they all starve the same. Twelve of them, from what I counted. It made no sense. It still doesn't, honestly. But every day he shows up, at 9:01PM, and I have the loaves ready, the shutters closed. He orders the dozen, pays with a crisp twenty, and steals his cookie. I caught him eating it after swiping it, once. Maybe he can sense that it's devil's food.\n\nI asked him about it once, mustering my courage. Might as well try and make small talk with a regular, even if he's a manifestation of hell.\n\n\"You like those, huh?\"I asked as he devoured the little chocolate blob in one sucking motion. \n\nHe glared at me with eyes like brimstone, a smudge of chocolate on one of his fangs. \"I am evil. I steal cookie.\"\n\n\"...right.\"\n\nI don't really get it, but I trust him in a weird way. There's a reason he takes those cookies, even if I don't understand it. \n\nBesides, he's technically supposed to get a thirteenth item of his choice anyway, so he isn't *really* stealing the cookie -- not that anyone but me would know. It's a promo I offer for repeat customers, but I don't have the heart to tell him what a baker's dozen is. \n\nIt would hurt his image. \n\n----\n\n*/r/resonatingfury*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "In this world, salaries are determined by the desirability of the work: if everybody wants to do the job and it's fun, it pays minimum wage. But if it's hard or awful work that nobody wants to do, the pay is high. You decide to apply for the highest-paying job in the world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“You... understand what the job entails... right?”\n\nThe man on the other side of the desk looked at me like I was insane.\n\n“Well I certainly understand what it pays!” I responded, nervously. Honestly, how hard could it possibly be? The payment is absolutely insane! I couldn’t believe no one had already taken the job.\n\n“The last guy who held this job quit after 6 days. There’s a backlog of work that needs to be done since he quit. We don’t generally even get applicants for this position. The job is yours if you really want it,” the man replied. I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over my face.\n\n“I’ll take it,” I said, confident in my abilities. The man stood up and gave me a cloak.\n\n“Now, you see,” he started, taking a moment to adjust his glasses, “You don’t actually have to wear the uniform. Granted, years ago it was tradition, but in this day and age, as long as you’re getting the job done no one will care. Oh, and you only maintain your payment as long as you keep the job.”\n\n“Sounds good to me!” I replied. I looked around, somewhat confused. “Do I get any other tools?” The man chuckled.\n\n“If you’re asking if you get a scythe, the answer is no. It was honestly a gag for a long time, but discontinued at this point.”\n\nI was disappointed, but I understood. I thanked the man for his time and walked out of his office. Once out of the building, I took a deep breath. Immortality. The highest form of payment in the world. So long as I held this job, I quite literally could not die. I looked around at the people on the street. I had just gotten the deal of a fuckin’ lifetime. Who cares about money when you can never die?\n\nMy watch beeped, alerting me to my first task. I took a quick look to see just how big of a backlog there was exactly.\n\nFuck. Me.\n\nThe last guy quit a few days ago. 300,000? Good grief, this was gonna be pretty exhausting. I decided to tackle the nearest job.\n\n***\n\nI walked into the hospital and went to the second floor. A young girl, she couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8, sat in the hallway crying. Once I was close to her, my watch buzzed. Damn. It was her.\n\n“Hey sweetie,” I said. “Where are your parents?” She looked up at me, still with tears in her eyes.\n\n“You can... see me?” She asked.\n\n“Of course I can!” I said, trying to be cheery. “Where are your parents?” I asked again, a little more urgent. She pointed to an adjoining room. As I walked in, my heart broke.\n\nThe girl was laying in the bed, the monitor beeping slowly. She had a few minutes left. Her parents were on either side, holding her hands. Both were trying so hard to be optimistic, but some things are unavoidable. The little girl walked into the room.\n\n“I tried to talk to them,” she said. “They won’t listen. I don’t understand why they won’t listen!” She erupted back into tears. I knew what had to be done. I turned to the little girl.\n\n“Hey sweetie. I’m gonna explain this to you real soon okay? But first I need you to come with me.” I held out my hand. She shook her head, refusing to take it.\n\n“I wanna stay with mommy and daddy!” She said, adamantly.\n\n“I know you do, honey. I tell you what. You come with me, and then I’ll come fix your parent’s ears and bring them to you. Okay?” She hesitated, but finally took my hand. We walked out of the room and started down the hallway.\n\nBehind us, the monitor flatlined. I heard her mom wailing, screaming to God to save her little girl. Her father watched silently, unable to do a thing. The nurses rushed into the room, but couldn’t do a thing. She was already gone.\n\nThe little girl held my hand, oblivious to the commotion behind her.\n\n“I really hope mommy and daddy get better. They seemed so sad the last time I saw them,” she said.\n\nIt was only my first day. My first job. I was so naive to believe this would be easy. I would be immortal, yes. But only as long as I continued doing my job.\n\nAs long as the Angel of Death continued to ferry souls to the other side.\n\nI finally understood why this was the hardest job in the world." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A close friend of yours can read minds. It was their dream to work for the FBI or CIA to catch bad guys. You accompanied them to their first interview, but instead they walk straight back out. They whisper to you to walk calmly out to the car and not to say a word or make eye contact, act calm." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sat in the lobby of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, awkward as hell and waiting out the clock. I couldn't shake the feeling that the receptionist kept glancing at me, as if she had to keep reminding herself why I was here.\n\nLike usual, I was Izzy's entourage somewhere. I had gotten used to living in the comfortable shade of her reputation. Ever since we first met as schoolchildren, Izzy had been the gifted one. The one who was going to do something with her life. She could glance into my mind and read my every worry as clear as a page in a book. Most people were born with an ordinary magic: an affinity for finding things, random and usually unhelpful blips of predestination if you were lucky. \n\nBut someone like Izzy... she was special. Telepathy was a rare enough gift, much less one as powerful as her. Most people who could peer into minds looked as if through a thick pane of fogged glass. But Izzy could peer into your mind and find anything she wanted.\n\nThat's why it came as little surprise to me the day she informed me that she was going to apply for government work. We both knew she was destined to do something that mattered. I was surprised the morning of her followup interview, when she asked me to go to the heart of downtown Washington D.C. with her.\n\nBefore I could even open my mouth and ask her *why*, Izzy smiled sideways at me and said, like she always did, \"Because you're my good luck charm.\"\n\nBut I didn't feel very lucky. I sat in that grand lobby, with its high marble ceilings, feeling smaller and more powerless than I ever had before.\n\nThe receptionist just kept staring and staring. I did my best to watch at the floor and try to blend into the wall. Maybe she was a telepath like Izzy. Maybe she could tell at a glance that I could never belong in a place like this. They weeded out the empties like me on the first round of interviews. Unsuitable. Not worth the resources.\n\nThe receptionist's eyes never left me as she plucked the phone off her desk and started furtively dialing. She cupped her hand around her mouth so I could not see her lips move as she spoke.\n\nBefore my imagination could carry itself any further, a sudden voice at my ear made me start in my chair.\n\n\"Eli,\"Izzy murmured, \"we have to go. Now.\"\n\nI looked at the clock on the wall. \"It's been barely ten min--\"\n\n\"We are walking calmly to my car,\"she said, as if I had not started speaking. \"Look at the ground and keep your mouth shut.\"\n\nI held her stare for a long second, the corner of my mouth pulling up involuntarily. This had to be a joke.\n\n\"It's not,\"she hissed. She grabbed my upper arm and pulled me to my feet.\n\n\"Ma'am,\"came a man's voice from behind us. I turned to see a broad-shouldered man in a crisp suit and the smooth, carefully composed face of a cop. He pushed open the doors Izzy had just emerged from. \"*Ma'am*.\"\n\n\"What did you do?\"\n\n\"If you want to leave here alive, you're going to do what I said.\"Izzy twined her fingers in mine like she only did when she was afraid. She dug her fingernails into the back of my hand.\n\nThis time I let her pull me towards the door.\n\nThe receptionist kept murmuring rapidly into her phone. Her stare swiveled after us as she stood from her chair to watch us go. We passed just close enough for me to make out snatches of what she was saying.\n\n\"--male, mid-twenties, dark hair--\"\n\nThe agent was jogging now, calling out Izzy's full name and saying, with a breathless laugh, \"Now hold on a minute, this isn't anything serious.\"\n\nIzzy heaved herself against the front doors of the building as if she wasn't sure they would open. She shoved past another person trying to enter on the other side and kept pulling me along. Suddenly I was grateful I had been too cheap to park in the building's parking garage.\n\nJust what the hell was going on here?\n\n\"I heard something. In his head.\"She dared a glance up from the pavement to might my eye for only a moment. \"It's not safe to talk here.\"\n\nFor once, I didn't even keep arguing with her in my mind. I just quickened my pace. We were at the sidewalk now, waiting for the light to change to let us across. Cars whipped past us, too quickly for us to dart across the street. I didn't need telepathy to see Izzy strongly consider it.\n\nShe arched her nails into my palm again. \"Slow down. Act natural.\"\n\nThe FBI agent caught up with us close enough now to reach out for Izzy's forearm. She sidestepped smoothly out of his grasp.\n\n\"Is everything quite alright, Miss Gomez?\"\n\n\"I told you, I'm feeling suddenly and violently ill. Food poisoning.\"She did not lift her eyes up from the ground. When I started to, she bit her fingernails into my palm until the pain drew my stare down, involuntarily. I held in my gasp of surprise. \n\nThe agent stuck his hand out toward me. \"I didn't catch your name, Mister...?\"\n\nThe light changed, and Izzy only said, \"I'll give you a call,\"before she pulled me across the road.\n\nI followed Izzy obediently until we made it across the street, past the trawling crowds of tourists ever-circling the path to the White House. Izzy burrowed into them and through them like a kind of camouflage. \n\n\"Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on here?\"I managed. I risked a glance over my shoulder to see the agent still on the sidewalk corner, watching us. He had a cell phone pressed to his ear now. \n\nIzzy gave me a long, dismal look. \"It's good news and bad news. And it can wait until we get to the car.\"\n\nShe saw every doubt and uncertainty race across my mind. She saw me plan to plant my feet firmly in place and refuse to move until she told me everything. \n\nNow her sigh seethed out through her teeth. \"Listen. You're not as powerless as you think. I'm not the only one who thinks you're a good luck charm.\"Her eyes met mine, and I saw real panic in them. My belly dropped to the earth. \"But we need to go. *Now*.\"\n\nThis time, I followed her without arguing, inside or out of my head.\n\n***\n\n/r/shoringupfragments \n\nHere's [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/shoringupfragments/comments/bi93lq/the_worldender_part_2/) and [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/shoringupfragments/comments/bifaj0/the_worldender_part_3/)! I have every intent to turn this into a full-blown novel and pop it up on Kindle when it's done. Thanks for reading :)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I’d been in line for hours. The regime had brutally destroyed the backbone of the resistance last week, and had set up these kangaroo courts to “process” the remaining prisoners. \n\nIt was all crap, anyway. They’d stolen the present and the future, and now they were all set to wipe out every remaining threat to their eternal reign. All that was left was to hoodwink them by their own systems, somehow.\n\nAhead, the box beeped. “Citizen Jenkins, submit your final request.” The man ahead of me grinned, triumphantly, and requested death by old age. The box beeped again, and the audience in the courtroom laughed as his flesh shriveled and he toppled over. \n\nWell, there goes that plan. At least it was one of the less painful selections I’d seen.\n\nWe’d had lovely full-color holos to watch everyone else ahead of us, and there’d been so many deaths. The box could, apparently, function to provide any manner of death. If a prisoner tried to run, or fight, or do anything but specify, the box would default to some horrible torture that lasted less than thirty seconds and always ended the same way.\n\nAs the guards prodded me forward, a thunderbolt hit me. The box could do anything in the service of death.\n\nAnything.\n\nThe box beeped at me. “Citizen Porthos, submit your final request.” My lips drew back over my teeth. I knew it was a wild, feral expression, that my captors were no doubt interpreting as panic, but my words were clear and controlled.\n\n“Eight gigaton thermonuclear fireball.” \n\nI had a fraction of a second to appreciate the absolute pandemonium that erupted in the courtroom.\n\nThen everything ended." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "While driving you hit and kill a boy. You feel terrible, and at the funeral you tell the family you wish you had died instead of him. 3 weeks later, a new surgery comes out that can bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another's life. You hear a knock at your door. It's the family." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "*Note: I just wrote another story for this prompt in the replies below. Let me know which sorry you like better!*\n\nIt wasn't until I had the chance to die that I realized I still wanted to live. \n\nSitting next to the parents, seeing their faces as the ER surgeon came out of the room and shook his head, I was convinced I wanted to die. After all, I was the reason they boy was was all but dead. \n\nHe wasn't fully dead, not really. But the trauma to his organs made life support and a medically induced coma necessary. The doctors said he couldn't be brought out of the coma without ending his life.\n\nI begged the parents for their forgiveness, insisting I would trade places with their boy in an instant. The mother looked at me hopelessly, but I'll never forget the father's look of anger, pain, and contempt. I think he knew how hollow my words were, even though at the time I had convinced myself they were sincere.\n\nWhen news came out of a brain transplant technique, I didn't feel relief, only fear that the parents would track me down and insist I give up my body to make things right. I had been dreading their call, but each passing week made that seem less likely.\n\nMy heart skipped a beat when I answered the door, and saw the boy's parents on my porch. The father had been crying, and the mother had her arm around him protectively. \n\nI froze. Just as the words \"I can't\"were about to leave my cowardly mouth, the father spoke.\n\n\"He said he forgives you,\"the father said.\n\nThat didn't make sense. The parents had never had a chance to talk to their son after the accident. \n\n\"Who forgives me?\"I asked, barely daring to hope that maybe the doctors were wrong, and the boy had recovered enough to be brought out of his coma.\n\nThe father took his hat off, revealing a fresh scar traveling across his forehead. \n\n\"My father.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "“How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"What, are you serious?\"\n\n \n\"Yeah,\"I said. \"How can I possibly help 137 trillion people? Earth's population is only what, 7 billion?\"\n\n\n\"Oh gosh, I didn't realize you were so dumb.\"The genie flicked his wrist and the number dropped to 100 billion. \n\n\n\"Hey!\"\n\n\n\"Don't feel bad. That's still way more people than your existence harms.\"\n\n\n\"So how are there even a hundred billion people?\"\n\n\n\"The choices you make can have long-lasting effects impacting generations upon generations of the yet to be born. Just, you know, maybe not as many people as someone a little brighter.\"\n\n\n\"What choices could I possibly make that has that big an impact?\"I asked. \"I'm nobody.\"\n\n\nThe genie stared at me for a long uncomfortable moment. \"You. Have. A. Genie.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You've been convicted of 1st degree murder, and (as is customary in society) are sentenced to \"death by black-hole.\"You expect death as your capsule approaches the event horizon. After crossing, everything goes silent, until you hear someone say \"Sir, I've found another one.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I didn’t know the man I had murdered, only that he had followed me everywhere. He appeared in pictures I had taken with friends. I caught glimpses of him when I turned corners at night and saw his shadow grasping at me at sunset. In the mornings, I would awaken to the feeling of being watched and I knew exactly who was doing it.\n\nThat was why I bought the gun. However, why I pulled the trigger? I didn’t entirely know. I called it instinct. My public defender called it a bad defense, but I didn’t care. My safety had been threatened and I had acted to protect myself. So I had told the truth as it was and pleaded not guilty. The man who had followed me for months appeared in front of me, his mouth open and eyes wide as if he had realized some stark truth. Then, I had shot him through the face.\n\nUnfortunately, the truth only landed me first degree murder and death by black hole.\n\nWhat a joke. I had once watched the launching of the Justice Pods into black holes on TV. I had once cheered as another murderer was ripped apart by gravity itself. Now, I sat inside one as it slowly made its way into 3C 75, the nearest black hole to our galaxy. Any second now, I would reach its center.\n\nMy body itched, like I had gotten a sudden outburst of the Chicken Pox. I watched as my limbs elongated and space itself warped. The capsule’s hull groaned. I held my breath, waiting for the end. Then, it came.\n\nBlackness.\n\nMy body burned. I opened my mouth to scream, but found myself unable to. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear. I could only feel invisible flames engulfing me whole.\n\n“Sir, I’ve found another one,” a voice said.\n\nA speck of light blinked in the distance and then it swallowed my vision. If I could’ve, I would’ve gasped. I tried so desperately to, but even breathing was impossible, never mind anything else. I heard a raspy inhale and then felt my lungs inflate. The light blinding me slowly faded away until it revealed itself as the sun dangling on a baby blue backdrop of a clear sky.\n\n“It’s another squatter,” the voice continued.\n\nI looked toward it and found a dirty man in overalls. He had on a grey jumpsuit.\n\n“Hey, this ain’t a place for you to sleep,” he said, pointing a wrench my way. “Go find an alley to crawl into. This is private property.”\n\n“Private property?” I asked and paused, surprised to hear the sound of my voice. “What the hell? Where am I?”\n\nThe man in the jumpsuit sighed. “Look buddy, I don’t know what the hell you’ve been on, but this is the year 2235 on planet Earth and on this planet, it’s illegal to trespass on *private property*.”\n\n2235? That was months before my murder. I gasp. Einstein had been right all along. The only logical end to a black hole was a break in time itself—a wormhole. 2235 meant that I could go back and stop myself from murder, from becoming a criminal! But for the life of me I couldn’t remember the exact date I had committed my crime.\n\nNo matter. All I had to do was to follow myself around. It would be easy, I already knew all my habits. I could hide behind corners and sneak through alleys. I already knew of a dead-end alley close to my home I could sleep in.\n\nMy lips curled up and my fingers tingled with excitement. I would not be a murderer!\n\n---\n\n---\n\nI hope you enjoyed that one! /r/jraywang for over 100 more stories.\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Every morning when you first look in a mirror, you see a small piece of advise for that day, such as “take the subway to work” or “don’t try the free pizza”. Today, the mirror simply says, “RUN”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Run.\"\n\nAlways to the point, my friend in the mirror. Sometimes the message only made sense in retrospect, other times it was eerily prescient about the circumstances of my day.\n\n\"Use crosswalks,\"that was my first message. I was eight years old and that day, I saw my first traffic accident. Almost a fatality, that moment where I was about to step out into traffic, sliding between two parked cars and not paying enough attention to the oncoming Buick LeSabre.\n\nAt that moment, I knew that whatever it was, it was looking out for me. Little notes from potential futures, my own precognition working into my field of vision, even time traveling - every scenario I could imagine, it all fell apart on close scrutiny. \n\nRather than question it, I learned to listen to it. Even when it had moments of pain in mind, I still marched to its drum, obedient and attentive.\n\n\"Work an extra hour tonight,\"it said, and I listened; at my apartment, the roof collapsed and killed my neighbor and my girlfriend. No other damage done to the building, just that one room. \n\nThe room they were in together. Naked. \n\nI had, and still have, no idea how long that had been going on for, and I tried to not care about it. The next day, the message said, \"Buy two breakfast burritos.\"\n\nNo emotional connection, no supportive additions, just a cold, almost clinical missive meant for me.\n\nRebelling against it, it was pointless. The few times, during my teenage years, that I did that, I ended up losing a toe and part of my hearing, thanks to ignoring and actively defying its message for my fifteenth birthday.\n\n\"Skip the concert.\"\n\nThe fire killed six, wounded one.\n\nMe, the world's dumbest recipient of future knowledge.\n\nIt never gave me winning lottery ticket numbers, secret codes or the names of people, just a sometimes vague idea, sometimes a painful reckoning. \n\nAlways at least a ten-hour head start on the events of the day. It used to be that I thought that I could do anything before the advice would kick in, except that I wasn't immunized against common sense. \n\nTwice during the experiments testing that idea I got my next messages in the hospital bathrooms. As it turns out, I'm not able to win street fights or avoid going through car windshields just because I had a note that said, \"Talk to the man in the red tie\"and \"Buy grapes\".\n\nThere's a rhythm of sorts to the messages; if it says, \"Take the stairs\"and my day plan is on strictly ground level, I know that I am going to encounter a scenario where climbing stairs is on offer and that I have to take them or I miss something - and that missing something can be painful or worse.\n\nIt's never repeated itself. For twenty-nine years, it's guided me through life, protecting me, moving me from most of harm's way, and sparing me from a couple of seriously dangerous moments.\n\nIt told me to eat airport bathroom soap one day, just before we got onto the plane. The message was the first one with an underline to it.\n\nSeptember 11th, 2001. \n\nI've had two since then. \n\nThe other, it was before I got onto a cruise ship, telling me to punch myself in the nose. The ship left port as I lay on the floor in the port, clutching my own broken beak, and the outbreak aboard ship took out a few people. \n\nThe third underlined message, it was this morning.\n\nOutside, I can hear a lot of noise. Pandemic be damned, people are protesting, rioting in a few places, and I sit inside, paying attention to the mirror more than the news. \n\nThe news only says what might happen or might have happened, and both are kind of irrelevant if you have advance notice to what is going to happen.\n\nExcept for today.\n\nThe message, it's always written in clear, crisp, 24-point Times New Roman font, legible to the naked eye, always tucked into the lower left corner of the mirror.\n\nToday, I can see it on every flat and reflective surface in my line of sight, and today, it's written in blood.\n\nI know two things.\n\nOne, it's that my future has been guided to relative safety since I was a child, protecting me, trying to spare me from the fractional majority of harm.\n\nI don't know why.\n\nTwo: I can recognize my own handwriting.\n\n\"Run.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "**FOR THOSE WHO WANTED A SECOND PART!!** [Here's part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Necromorphs/comments/5zt7d0/the_calling_part_2/)\n\n\nMy parents had insisted on a party. They said it was tradition and invited aunts and uncles and cousins from gods knew where, half of the people I had never seen in my life. \n\nQuite a feat, since the Splitting of the States, border control has been hell. Getting from one sector of the country to another requires paperwork, headaches, and a whole lot of background checks. \n\nMy best friend had taken the day off of his job to spend the day with me. He was happy, incredibly happy, on his eighteenth birthday two months ago had revealed LIBRARIAN as his Calling. Nobody was surprised, he had had a love for books his whole life. \n\n\n**11:56am**\n\nThe room is getting quieter now, eyes on me expectantly. I've been silent for the last ten minutes, anxiety biting behind my ribcage like a rabid animal. I look at my arm, hand clenching and unclenching. \n\n\n**11:58am**\n\n\"Don't worry,\"mom says. \"This is who you are. We love you, no matter what.\"\nMy father nods beside her and I look at them with a smile. The SCIENTIST and the NOVELIST. I grew up in my father's stories, and I wish that he could tell the end of this one. \n\n\n**12:00pm**\n\nNothing. The air in the room is like a vacuum, sucked in with an almost comically collective gasp. \n\nI don't look up. I stare at my arm, the vision around going fuzzy with my concentration. \n\n'Anything,' I plea. 'Anything but nothing.'\n\n\n**12:01pm**\n\nMy mother starts frantically prodding at my arm. There are whispers and I can't meet anybody's eye. My best friend looks at me with pity, curiosity, fear. \n\n\n**12:02pm**\n\nIt starts as a dull itch, a burn deep beneath the skin. I resist the urge to scratch and my sudden movement, drawing my arm close, attracts the attention of my family. \n\nSlowly, mercifully, the word appears. \n\n*LEADER*\n\nCheers start and I'm pounded on the back so hard that I think I'll have internal bleeding. LEADERS are the elite, the government. I might be able to make a difference in this hell hole. \n\n\n**12:03pm**\n\nMy mother freezes mid hug, eyes locked onto my arm. I think for a second that she's having another Mother Breakdown, but then she whispers.\n\n\"What the fuck?\"\n\nMy blood runs cold and I don't want to look at my arm. My mother had never cursed in front of me. But I know I have to look. \n\nThe word has expanded to word(s). My jaw drops. The sound disappears and I fear I might pass out. \n\n*LEADER OF THE REBELLION*\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "At the age of 18 you are permitted to redistribute your twenty skill points around into whatever skills you want permanently. You decided to put everything into LUCK and leave the rest at 0 points." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"That's not a good idea, Ben. For one, we don't have great data on the actual effects of enhanced Luck...\"\n\n\"Look, can you do it or not? I need this.\"\n\nThe gene tech sighed in the quiet office and swiveled his chair back to the computer. He was looking at a fairly standard representation of a human genome, red highlights in the mass of blue to indicate genes with likely altered function from human baseline and green to indicate potential areas for change.\n\n\"Let's see, we have some modifiable options at rs2981205, rs730882133, rs423454-\"\n\n\"Yeah, man, I get it, lots of fancy words. Bottom line it for me?\"Ben shifted impatiently in his chair; flipping his phone from hand to hand.\n\n\"Based on population-level studies and retrospective analysis of lottery winners, survivors of freak accidents, etc, there's about 20 genes we could modify in you to try to make you luckier. I'm obligated to point out that we don't know for sure that these genes actually *cause* better luck, and frankly the latest research is casting some doubts on the validity-\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, I signed the waiver already, do what you got to do; I have a lot riding on this.\"\n\n\"Um, you already made the bet? And you want to get lucky now?\"\n\n\"Not exactly, I don't really want to explain.\"\n\n\"Whatever, they're your genes. Sign this form here, some more standard stuff. Given the specific genes we need to modify, you are looking at 85% chance for significant loss in strength, 90% chance for loss in fine and gross motor skills, 100% for loss in intelligence, 60% chance for loss in overall body aesthetic and symmetry, and 50% chance for loss in short and long term memory.\"\n\nBen, took the tablet, skimming over most of the form. When he had scrolled to the bottom, he pressed his finger on the fingerprint scanner, acknowledging his agreement. He let his shoulders relax afterwards, like a weight had been lifted off.\n\n\"Ok then\"he said to himself in a quieter voice; \"that's settled.\"\n\n\"Not quite, Ben. Given the severity of potential deficits you are required to provide a sperm sample on the chance that you would prefer to have unaltered children in the future. Furthermore, while we strongly suggest implantable birth control for all men and women that undergo elective alteration, per the 2024 SAFEGene act, prior to sexual intercourse with any potentially fertile partners, you both must be screened for possible gene incompatibility.\"\n\n\"Yeah, everyone knows the rules.\"\n\n\"OK, here's your sample cup; I'll give you some time to provide the sample and I'll get the CRISPR transfer virus ready.\"\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nBen rolled up his sleeve, exposing a slightly faded tattoo; a simple heart motif with the name \"Jess\"on it.\n\n\"Just a slight poke, then you'll be all set. This is your last chance to change your mind...\"\n\n\"Get it over with.\"\n\n\"OK\"\n\nThe tech injected Ben's left deltoid with the modified viral delivery system. Over the next 48 hours, the virus, a modified version of the flu, would infect the vast majority of his cells and re-write all of his DNA.\n\n\"It's done. Now, you'll probably have some soreness, fatigue, and a fever for the next couple days, similar to flu symptoms. This virus isn't contagious, but to be safe, you need to avoid the very young and the elderly. Take tylenol if the fever or pain get bad. If you have difficulty breathing, pass out, or anything like that, get to a hospital immediately.\"\n\n\"Got it. Thanks, doc.\"\n\n\"Good luck.\"\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nTwo months later, Ben's life, as far as any outsider was concerned, was pretty much unchanged. He'd had to quit his job as a barista; it was a bit too fast paced for him with his new weakness and difficultly remembering simple tasks. He'd found a perfect job, working at one of the few private libraries remaining in Baltimore. He'd only get one or two customers a day and they were usually older; if anything, Ben found himself getting along better with them than people his own age; the elderly clients seemed to talk and move at the pace he was accustomed to these days.\n\nHe settled in well to his new life; he was more lonely than he had been, but that suited him well. He had a new companion, in the form of a stray he named Tipsy, that had wandered up to his feet when he was getting back to his apartment one night. She only had three paws and occasionally fell over, but they were fast friends.\n\nAll in all, his life was stable, boring; an easy sort of anguish. And every day, as he left the library, sometimes with Tipsy peeking out of his backpack along with a few children's books; the short ones with the easier words, he would take the 57 bus and transfer to the 23 to get to the long term care facility. There he would take the elevator to the fourth floor, his legs a bit too weak for the stairs, and sit next to Jess, who was perpetually silent except for the occasional hiss and beep of the ventilator, and read to her. Often, he would fall asleep in the chair next to her, dreaming that perhaps tomorrow would be his lucky day, and he would get to talk to her again. \n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nSo all of you are ridiculous, amazing people. Thank you for reading and for sharing your thoughts and feedback about the story! Definitely a deeply motivating experience to write more in the future." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"Adulthood is like looking both ways before you cross the street, then getting hit by an airplane.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"I'm sorry to bring you here like this.\"\n\n\"Not at all, my dear boy. Not at all.\"\n\n\"But, you see, I have to know… I have to know, and you're the only one –\"\n\n\"I get it,\"the old man interrupted me. He puffed his cheeks weakly, like it took him great effort just to breathe, \nand then he leaned back against the armchair and his eyes turned to the crackling of the fireplace. \"Ask away.\"\n\n\"Well… it's pretty simple, actually.\"I leaned forward. \"What's it like?\"\n\nHis eyes turned to me, and he almost smiled. *\"What's it like?\"*\n\n\"Yeah. Life. Growing up. Being old.\"I paused. \"Well, not that I'm calling you old, I just –\"\n\n\"It's okay, dear boy,\"he laughed. \"I am old. That's why you brought me here.\"\n\nI said nothing. He arranged himself on the armchair like he had all the time in the world. Then his eyes went up to \nme again. \"It's… hard.\"\n\nI waited. I knew he wasn't done.\n\n\"It's the hardest thing you'll ever have to do, actually\"he continued. \"Harder than building all this fancy equipment you've built. Harder than studying all you've studied. Harder than winning all these scientific awards you've won so far.\"He chuckled. \"Nothing prepares you for it.\"\n\n\"What makes it hard?\"I asked. \"Is it the responsibilities? The body decaying? What makes growing up so hard?\"\n\n\"No. It's not the responsibilities. Growing up is like looking both ways before you cross the street, then getting hit by an airplane.\"He lowered his head as if to put his thoughts together, then continued. \"It's the things you don't expect that catch you by surprise. Sure, it's scary to have a kid, and to get married, and to ask your boss for a promotion, and all these grown-up stuff we have to *pretend* we know how to do.\"\n\n\"Pretend?\"\n\nHe seemed surprised. \"Yes, pretend. No one really grows up, of course. We put on a face to the world, but at home, three in the morning, all alone watching TV, you're still sixteen. All of us are.\"He shook his head. \"There's nothing more heartbreaking than being a real person and sitting down in front of another real person, and then both of you have to act like fake people. You sit across from someone two years older than you in a job interview and you both say 'Hello, sir' and 'Yes, I also think the Dow Jones has been fluctuating dangerously this last few days' and 'Oh, absolutely, the 405 is a nightmare this time of day'. And all along you *know* you both laugh at poop jokes and fart sounds and you have all these hobbies and interests and you curse and say fuck and shit and asshole. You're real people. But you act like robots. You have to put on the face, and they have to put on a face, and you have to pretend that nothing in life is ever fun, everything is productivity and seriousness.\"\n\n\"Is that what makes it hard?\"I asked. \"That everyone's just… faking their way through adulthood?\"\n\n\"No. No, that's expected. It sucks, but we all know what we're getting into.\"He sighed. \"No, what catches you by \nsurprise are the little things about growing up. It's being stuck in traffic and remembering a day. Any day. A locker \nroom conversation in high school. A teacher. A friend of a friend. Something that happened long enough ago that \nit could order its own drink. It sneaks up on you, and you look at yourself in the rear view and you think, my \nGod… where did it go? When did I become so old?\n\n\"I remember college like it was yesterday. I remember my girlfriends and my friends and they used to drink and \ntalk about sex and hanging out and now they all eat oatmeal and go to funerals. And I do that to, and I *like* all of that. Well, not going to funerals, but oatmeal. Soap operas. Going to bed at nine. I like it.\"\n\n\"So what's the problem?\"\n\n\"The problem is I'm still the sixteen year old. I'm still the college kid. My needs and wants have changed, and my \nbody has changed, and my mind has changed, in a way, but *I* didn't change. I'm still putting on a face. So when \nthese thoughts sneak up on me – when a flash of a college party or a roadtrip or the feeling of falling asleep in the \nback of my Dad's car wells up on me… it breaks me. It breaks me because I don't think of it fondly. I don't look at \nthat young kid with affection and nostalgia, I look at him with envy. Envy, because he's got all of that ahead of him \nstill, and he doesn't even know how lucky he is. He's me, we're the same – but he's got the good looks and the \nhealth and all the years ahead of him, and I'm wasting away in an old apartment. And I hate that kid so much. Every time he sneaks up on me I hate him more.\"\n\nI looked down, then up. \"What about family? Kids?\"\n\n\"They are great. They are amazing. But they go away. They're not *you*. In the end, you raise your sons and \ndaughters for the world, not for yourself. They have to fall asleep in the back of *my* car, and go to *their* college parties and all that… they don't exist for my benefit. No one exists for my benefit but myself. And I'm much too old to do anything about it.\"\n\nI swallowed dry and averted my eyes to the fireplace. The old man leaned forward. \"We always get the feeling that \nthe good old days are either behind us or ahead of us. They're never our own days. We were always born just a \nbit too late to go to Woodstock or to see Nirvana live or to see the Berlin Wall fall or to party Great Gatsby style in the 20's. And then we get old and we realize we were born too soon to see the wonders of technology and the world reshaping and blooming into something new and exciting. But the truth is, our Woodstocks were happening all around us as we grew. Our new and exciting world was some old guy's boring present, and our past will be some spoiled, arrogant kid's 'Good old days'. We were just too stupid to realize it when it mattered. So we let it slide away. And then we ended up like me – sad and resentful of our younger selves for all they can still do and we can't.\"\n\nFinally, I got up. I went to the old man and I knelt in front of him. \"I'm sorry I brought you over.\"\n\n\"It's okay,\"he said. \"I knew you would. After all, I did it, sixty years ago.\"\n\nI looked at my own eyes. Despite the wrinkles around them, they still looked pretty much the same. The old man \nshook his head and sniffed a tear away. \"Now let's go back to your lab so you can send me back to my own time, \nso I can hate you in peace.\"\n\nI hugged my own eighty year old version and leaned away and nodded. \"I'll enjoy it,\"I said. \"And I'll know I'm living in the good old days, I promise.\"\n\nHe got up with difficulty. \"No, you won't,\"he said. \"The good old days are only ever good when they're gone. That's what makes them good. When you're living through them, they're just... days.\"\n\nHe slow-stepped ahead of me towards the lab. Then he spoke without turning his head: \"And days go by really fast, man. They go by really fast.\"\n\n\n________________\n\n*Thank you for reading! For more stuff, head on to /r/psycho_alpaca -- and make sure to check out [Eve](https://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/4h9tc6/read_the_novel_eve_here/), the novel I just recently finished and posted online, based on a writing prompt from here!*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "A billionaire hands you a unique and intricate coin. \"In an hour,\"he says, \"I will tell the world what I have given you. In a week, I will leave my inheritance to whoever returns it to me. I will not accept it before then.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"oh crap this is totally crazy\"I thought to myself. This is crazy.. all of his inheritance?? He looked totally serious. His bright blue eyes staring intently at me. \"Are you up for the challenge ?\"\n\n\"I hope so.\"\n\nMind you, this billionaire wasn't just any other billionaire. He was Alexander Zargov. THE billionaire. He is the 6th richest person in the world and by far the most enigmatic person on Earth. The dude once bought his kid the entire MacDonald franchise because his kid liked big Macs. He also purchases the entire rights to the iPhone line just to discontinue it because people kept telling him how good iPhones were. This guy, in short, is crazy. And thats what is so scary about this. Everyone is going to believe him. \n\nThe one hour grace period reminded me of John Wick, except that I spent most of it planning on what to do. My house wasn't going to be safe anymore definitely. Who do I trust to guard me? These guys could easily kill me and take my coin anyway. I can't just hide the coin. People would probably capture me and interrogate me to death. This sounded like an impossible task for a 21 year old. \n\nThere was no way I would survive. It's just impossible. \n\nBut then.. \n\nI didn't need to survive. I could simply pass the coin on to the next person... Right? I didn't need that much money anyway. \n\nSo I thought of a genius solution.\n\n\"Alexander Zargov's coin\": starting bid $1,000,000 \n\nI listed it on eBay. \n\nAfter all, why kill if you could just buy it?\n\n\n*2nd ever writing! Super lots of things to improve but hopefully you kinda enjoyed it!\n\n** Wow Reddit gold! I've only been lurking on Reddit and this is amazing. Thanks so much! Really gives me more motivation to write more and improve my writing! Thanks guys!!\n\n*** Totally did not expect the replies (both support and people calling this a completely stupid idea). Super thankful for people that loved it but also kinda shocked at how negatively people can respond to a simple story (I find it kinda crazy).\nTo address some concerns.. I don't think it's the be all and end all solution. I thought it would be a rather witty twist to a problem I can't even think of solving. I think some people here are way too negative in thinking people would kill millions, because as well all know millionaires around the world are getting murdered everywhere for their money :x \nWith regards to why it's cheaper to just buy - I was thinking millionaires would definitely be willing to pay millions for billions. It's probably the best investment ever. If they have the millions to pay, they would have the millions to safeguard it too. Given that I stay in a very safe country (think safest country in the world) a black market gun might already cost hundreds of thousands, not to mention the hired gun etc. \nThird, maybe I should have thought out how the transaction is going to take place better. \nLastly, take a chill pill! If the story goes into too much details, some people might not be happy that it's boring. On the other hand, if it's too short it's lazy story telling. It doesn't hurt to keep hurtful or angry comments to yourself! \n\nI really really appreciate all the suggestions. I'm by no means a good writer. I was super afraid of people not liking this because my style of writing goes all over the place and I'm incredibly messy in my thought process (also why I kept it short). However, maybe ask yourself if a comment like \"this is stupid\"is going to help me improve or is it just being critical for criticisms sake. Peace!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Watch the coin.\"\n\nMy hands slipped, passing over and under each other. I watched the crowd from the corner of my eye, gauging their reaction carefully.\n\nI needn't have worried. The whole lot of them were transfixed, gaping at me as I pulled one horrible little trick after another.\n\nInwardly, it was getting hard to contain my glee. With how this was going, I'd be able to make enough coin to have an actual meal for the night - and probably the next few days, too, judging from the awe in their eyes. Some were even sliding away from the back of the crowd, shooting me fearful looks over their shoulders.\n\nAll right, the fear was getting to be a little much. It was just a coin trick, after all. But, hey. That was their problem, not mine. I grinned, snapping my fingers in a whirl of motion - and let the coin fall down my sleeve.\n\nThey flinched. A woman in the back of the crowd squeaked, throwing her hands up over her mouth. Nervous laughter circled the crowd, passed from lips to lips.\n\nI grinned all the broader, taking a quick half-bow. \"And just like that!\"\n\nThe man whose coin I'd 'vanished' leaned closer. \"Give.\"\n\nI held a hand up, shrugging. \"Give what? I'm afraid it's gone, sir. Do you doubt my skill, my magic?\"\n\nHis eyes narrowed, still fixed on me, but the others clapped him on the shoulder, their laughter growing. Those were the rules, the guidelines I'd set for our little game. If any of them could spot the coin or my little 'spell', then they'd get their coin back, and one of mine.\n\nAnd if they didn't, well, then clearly it was gone - magicked away by I, the great and magnificent magician. I smiled all the wider. The next contestants pushed closer. I waved for a beer, even as I reached out for the next coin.\n\nYes, coming to this town had been a good decision.\n\n---\n\nThe cold air of the alley was a slap in the face after the heat and pressure of the bar. I leaned against the wall, groaning as the night's drinks drained out. My belt pouch jingled promisingly.\n\nTonight had been a *good* night.\n\nThe sound of boots against stone was the first warning I got that not everything was so perfect.\n\nI glanced up blearily, focusing eyes that didn't want to cooperate, and stared at the trio approaching from the alley's mouth.\n\n\"Damn,\"I muttered, wrinkling my nose. The thug from earlier was all too recognizable.\n\nHe leered down at me, drawing closer. \"Give.\"\n\nStanding with a rush that left me light-headed, I stumbled back, raising my hands. \"D-Don't be like that, now, boys. I-It's just business.\"\n\nHe growled at me. Actually *growled.* \"Give. *Now.*\"\n\nHis friends had clubs. My eyes finally focused in on the sight - accompanied by the sudden realization that I could barely stand.\n\nThe coin pouch at my belt waggled gently. I grimaced. I could always...but then I'd have no money to *eat*.\n\nThe thug stepped closer. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, giving my thoughts a moment of clarity. I liked my teeth. I liked them a *lot*. So...I supposed...\n\n\"M-Maybe we can-\"\n\n\"Leave him alone!\"a voice cried from behind me.\n\nI blinked. And then I lurched, thrown to one side as someone rushed past me.\n\nSomeone dressed quite well indeed, in fact, without even a stain on his tunic or a spot of rust on his chainmail. He lunged in front of me, throwing his arms wide.\n\nA savior I wasn't expecting, but....I wasn't in any position to be picky. I did my belt up, trying not to show my relief.\n\n\"There you are, sir,\"the man said, glancing back over his shoulder. \"We'd heard you arrived in town, but when we didn't see you...\"He sighed, his shoulders slumping an inch. \"It's good to find you at last.\"\n\nI paused. I'd just gotten to town that night, it was true, and yet...it wasn't like anyone knew I was coming. I was just a wanderer, a bit of a trickster who very much preferred the term 'bard'. Certainly no one that anyone should have bee expecting.\n\n\"I-I think you must have-\"\n\nThe thug growled again, trying to push past the man - who pushed back, standing even straighter.\n\nMy words died in my throat, freezing at the sight of the clubs they gripped. \"Right. Yes. Let's....let's be off, shall we?\"\n\n\"*Give,*\"the thug echoed again, but less confidently. My savior turned away with a sneer over his shoulder, waving me on.\n\nThey seemed to know not to bother him, whoever he was. The sight surprised me more than a little, but I wasn't about to complain. All three of them just stood, watching as him and I slipped out towards the main street.\n\nA breath of relief slipped from my frame as they vanished behind us. \"Thank the heavens. You saved me, man.\"\n\nHe flashed me a grin. \"Oh, don't be modest. I just couldn't sleep if I'd let you deal with them yourself. And they don't deserve that, eh?\"\n\nHis elbow landed in my ribs as the man laughed, like we were sharing a joke. I laughed along as best I could, entirely not getting it.\n\n\"Still,\"the man said, shrugging. \"You really spooked the folks in that bar.\"\n\n\"They were just some tricks,\"I mumbled under my breath.\n\n\"Really, now,\"he chided, half-turning to face me. \"They couldn't feel even a whisper, eh? You had to know that'd spook them.\"\n\nMy brow furrowed. What?\n\nAnd dimly, distantly, memories began to bubble back up.\n\nOf a kingdom who'd taken on a mage-king, some decades before.\n\nWhose entire kingdom and magic had slowly began to change. *Connecting.* Suddenly, the fearful looks of the townsfolk took on new meaning.\n\n\"Uh,\"I said, slowly starting to pull away. The man didn't seem to notice. And when I looked around, we'd managed to leave the cheaper part of town far behind. I hadn't even noticed, in my ale-fueled haze.\n\nAnd now I didn't know where we were.\n\nHis hand clapped my shoulder, pulling me onward.\n\n\"Not to worry,\"he said, winking at me. We'd stopped. Just like that, he ground to a halt.\n\nI stared up at the castle that waited in front of us. That was the only term for it that fit.\n\n\"Uh.\"\n\nHis grip on me was iron, pulling me towards the door.\n\n\"Everyone's been *waiting* for a mage like you.\"\n\nI was helpless to fight back as he whisked me inside.\n\nThe city vanished behind me as the door slammed shut.\n\n(/r/inorai, critique always welcome!)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "\"Fuck it.\"The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. \"Summon Cthulhu.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"Cthulhu. Cthulhu. Cthulhu!\"\n\n\"Whaaaat!\"The Great Old One opened his eyes and propped himself up by his tentacles. The smell of hot coffee invaded his nostrils.\n\n\"You're being summoned,\"his wife said. She offered him a mug. \"On Earth. *Again.*\"\n\n\"Oh, God damn it, what now?\"Cthulhu took the mug and sipped.\n\n\"Alien invasion, I think,\"his wife said. \"Get dressed. You're late already.\"\n\nShe left the room. Cthulhu sat staring at the wall, tired. He rubbed his eyes and sipped his drink again. \"I'm too old for this shit.\"\n\nHe puffed his cheek, got up and went about putting on some clothes. \"God damn Earthlings can't do anything themselves,\"he mumbled, as he got dressed. \"Always Earth. Always.\"\n\nHe took the Earth portal to New York City and from there the subway toward the UN headquarters. Being a supernatural giant octopus-like creature with wings and an overall appearance tailor-made to strike fear in the heart of men, he rode the NY subway completely unnoticed, as usual.\n\nHe entered the building late, and before he could ask the front desk girl anything, she pointed him in the right \ndirection.\n\n\"They're waiting,\"she said, in an impatient tone.\n\nCthulhu entered the room to a heavy silence. Every world leader was present, waiting for him. There was a dark \nmood in the air.\n\n\"All right, where are those aliens?\"Cthulhu said, closing his suit button and making his way to the front of the \nroom.\n\nThe world leaders gave him the rundown of the who, where and how of the aliens. Cthulhu listened, tired. Then he \nwent into another room to change. He took off his work clothes and put on the extra tentacles, the glimmering red eyes. He stares at himself in the mirror. He looked old. Tired.\n\n\"All right, big guy. One more for the win.\"\n\nHe made his best scary-monster face to himself in the mirror. He tried growling, but wasn't feeling it. Growling was a young deity's game.\n\nThen he went out and to the streets and off to scare away the aliens.\n\nIt didn't take much. He was old, but he still had it. The aliens were small and not that advanced, and they were scare shitless when they saw him. Cthulhu was so good at the scaring part now that he rarely had to do any actual killing. Mostly whoever he was fighting just fled in desperation at his sight.\n\nStill, by the end of the day his back hurt like hell, and his feet were killing him.\n\n\"Too old,\"Cthulhu said, on his way back to tell the world leaders he was done. \"Too old for this shit.\"\n\nBack inside the UN building, everyone shook his tentacles and pat his back. The Secretary General gave him his check.\n\n\"Thank you again, Cthulhu. Couldn't have done it without you.\"\n\nCthulhu took the check and nodded. There was a city-wide 'we-survived-the-aliens' party going on in the streets of NY out the window. Fireworks, celebrations, joy.\n\n\"We'd invite you to the festivities,\"the NY mayor started, careful, \"but what with your terrifying appearance and all… you understand.\"\n\n\"It's okay,\"Cthulhu said. \"I have to get home anyway.\"\n\nCthulhu walked unseen past the celebrating people on 7th avenue. He got on the subway to head back to the off-planet portal in silence, rubbing his back in pain.\n\nAcross from him sat a homeless man.\n\n\"Hey, aren't you that big scary monster that killed off the aliens earlier today?\"the homeless man asked.\n\nCthulhu smiled sadly. \"Yeah, that's me.\"\n\n\"Thanks, bro,\"the homeless man said. \"You're the real deal.\"\n\nBack home, Cthulhu kissed his wife and went into his room to take off his suit. Shirtless, he stared at himself in the mirror once again.\n\nHe looked wrinkled. Like an old yellowed map in an attic whose directions no one had any use for anymore.\n\n\"I'm more Old than Great these days,\"he said. \"I need to quit this job.\"\n\n\"*Da-ddy.*\"\n\nCthulhu turned around and made his way for the crib in the corner of the room. He stared down at Little Cthulhu Jr. The kid's tentacles, lifted up over his head, tried to reach for the mobile of Tortured Human Souls dangling above.\n\n\"*Da-ddy.\"*\n\nCthulhu kissed the baby on the forehead. \n\n\"But not yet,\"he completed, and then went back to the kitchen to help with dinner.\n\n_______________\n\n\n/r/psycho_alpaca =)\n" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Emperor Zord's body had turned to dust.\n\nThe chiseled, blonde idiot continued on with his ranting. \"Good people, my name is Galarn. And this day your oppression is over. Put down your weapons and you are free to go. I mean none of you harm. We know that Emperor Zord had used his enthrallments and that you are not here of your own free will.\"\n\nEnthrallments. This guy really was an idiot. Zord's dark charms only lasted a few days. He only used them on his military recruits to ensure their loyalty before allowing them to be armed in his presence. Zord had been powerful, but the idea that he could keep thousands of people under his magic control on a daily basis...this Galarn guy really had no clue. This was my twenty-fourth year in the Empire, my entire life, and Zord had never bothered to waste his magic on me. \n\n\"Go and tell the people of this news. Tell the prisoners here that they are free. Today we usher in a new era for all of Avalon,\"Galarn said. The handful of soldiers in the room turned and walked out.\n\nI was left alone with Galarn. We were in one of Zord's personal rooms. Most people never got back here, but I had spent my whole life in this castle. My mom had been one of Zord's \"girls.\"I grew up in the kitchens downstairs and Old Glenda, one of the cooks, had taken me in as her own when my mom \"disappeared.\"Glenda taught me everything I knew, and how Zord liked his food. Weird tastes, Zord had refused to eat anything but organ meats and vegetables. When Glenda had gotten too old to cook, I took over. A few years later, Zord had taken a liking to me and I was in charge of most of his to day to day personal affairs. Cooking his livers and kidneys, became pressing his robes, became scheduling his day. Now he even had me in charge of hiring and firing for the castle.\n\nWhen I saw how Zord treated his girls, it was clear how my mom had disappeared. Zord had instructed me to make two of his girls disappear in the shark pit. Apparently, they had giggled in a way that he didn't like during one of their rendezvous. I hadn't followed through of course. Instead, I had made them shave their heads so they wouldn't be recognized, and sent them packing in the middle of the night with a pouch of gold. I had warned them to get far away and never come back or I wouldn't be able to help them anymore.\n\nGalarn looked me up and down. \"My good sir. You are Zord's most trusted servant. You must know all of his true evils. Tell me of all his dastardly deeds so we can set them right. Together. For the people of Avalon.\"\n\nI sighed. \"You're an imbecile.\"\n\n\"But whatever do you mean?\"\n\n\"How do you think your sword even pierced Zord's skin? You're certainly aware of his magical defenses,\"I asked.\n\n\"Ah yes, but you know as well as I do that Zord's dark magic would not work against one who wields a blade with a true heart,\"Galarn said.\n\n\"Ugh, the true heart nonsense. I can't believe the people are still passing around that bullshit. No you idiot, its because I've been slowly feeding him contraroot for the last month. Bit by bit. Upping the dosage just slowly enough so he wouldn't notice,\"I said.\n\n\"Ah ha! Well then you have also done your kingdom a great service. We shall bring a new era to Avalon together.\"He beamed a smile and went to clasp his hand on my shoulder. I pushed him away in to the center of the room.\n\n\"No. You idiot, you've done nothing and risked everything. You really don't understand do you? I'll explain it slowly. You can't kill Zord with just a sword. He's not dead at all. As soon as you struck him down he began to regenerate. His phylactery is in the basement of this castle. He's probably on his way back up here right now,\"I said. \"Tomorrow night was the night. He always drinks on Thursdays. I was going to wait until he had finished his second bottle of wine and put everything into motion. First the phylactery and then him.\"\n\nGalarn gasped and then tightened his breastplate. \"Well then it is simple, we shall smite him down again. Together my friend. For the Kingdom. For Avalon.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not. Now that his body has reformed, the contraroot won't stop his magic. He'll be invulnerable again. You're not leaving here alive. And he's going to suspect that I was the one poisoning him. It will take a long time for me to reestablish his trust. Thanks for that. But no matter what, step one on that path is going to have to be taking care of you.\"\n\nI pulled the lever that released the floor over the shark pit. Galarn tumbled down. His screams were still echoing as Emperor Zord walked in to the room, and shot me his crooked grin.\n\n/r/Fatty_McFatts\n\nEdit: Thanks for the gold internet friends!\n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5zzabs/pi_emperor_zord_part_2_original_prompt_you_are_a/)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The Avengers gather to talk about something odd. They've all seen a single old man that pops up from time to time. He's been around for years without aging, been on many planets, has had at least a dozen different jobs, and never seems to stick around for more than a few minutes at a time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "\"This doesn't add up,\"Stark said, arms folded, eyes dancing over a holographic board strewn with pictures of a single old man. \"I can't find record of his existence in any database, but clearly, he's real. Although the word 'real' is getting a bit iffy these days, with Vision and Point Break here.\"\n\nThor groaned, rolling his head back. \n\n\"I mean, I don't know about you guys, but I swear I've seen him before,\"Bruce added. \"And it's kinda weird, but don't... don't you feel like you know him? Like he's familiar, an old friend or something. I don't know.\"\n\n\"Maybe you met him at a carnival,\"Stark replied, Bruce scoffing. \n\n\"No, Tony-- I think Bruce is right,\"Captain America rose from his seat, approaching the holoboard, looking sternly at each image. \"I understand what he's saying. This man, I feel like I know him somehow.\"\n\n\"Then tell me, Cap-- who is he? And why does one old geezer exist in multiple eras across multiple planes of existence? Is this guy Thanos Lite™?\"\n\n\"He clearly has powers we don't understand, but I don't think he means anybody harm.\"Cap cocked his head at one of the images, a big smile on the old man's face, and matched it with his own. \"He just seems to be enjoying himself, watching it all unfold from different angles. Always smiling.\"\n\n\"He could've at least helped us out with the whole Snappening thing.\"Spiderman was lurking in the back, dangling from the ceiling, and snapped his fingers dramatically. Stark raised his eyebrows in some mix of agreement and disdain. \n\n\"We worked that out just fine on our own,\"Bruce added, shrugging. \"Well, maybe with a little help. I do admit there's a strangeness about it, though-- we won, but it... it kinda feels like something was lost along the way.\"\n\n\"I don't know that he's powerful in the same way that we are,\"Cap said, turning back to the group. \"But we haven't seen him in a while, and I can't shake the feeling that he was important. A key element to our world; a watcher, of sorts. One that saw it all through.\"\n\nThe group mulled on that a moment. \n\n\"Well, wherever he is now,\"Bruce said with a deep sigh, \"I hope he's still keeping an eye on us. Who knows what this place might end up like without him.\"\n\n---\n\n*/r/resonatingfury*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "There exist five universes, each one tentatively connected to the others. Each universe is defined by the ABSENCE of one of the five elements; Earth, Water, Air, Fire & Magic. Our universe is the one without magic." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Part 1 | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/68gmiy/humanity_the_warriors_without_magic_part_2/) | [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/68ho7c/humanity_the_warriors_without_magic_part_3/) | [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/68jcry/humanity_the_warriors_without_magic_part_4/)\n\n---\n\nThe first to come were the ones that wanted our fire. They came from a sinkhole in the ocean that our scientists determined to be a mechanism much like a wormhole. Then came the ones that wanted our Earth. They crashed into our planet on a thousand meteorite-like vehicles made of a substance unknown to our universe. And at last, the ones who wanted our air and the ones who wanted our water. They came together from portals that eviscerated our poles. One for the south pole, the other for the north. Each had accomplished feats that had left our scientists baffled. And what was even more troubling--they all resembled humans.\n\nWe had tried greeting the ones who wanted our fire. We had sent them presents, precious metals, and the welcoming smile of our most expert convoys. They retaliated with a tsunami that wiped out Japan. It was magic, real magic. Something we had previously thought only existed in Hollywood and cartoons. With a few incantations, they could manipulate the water, the earth, even the air that we breathed. But they could not touch fire. So we gave them what they wanted. Napalm, incendiary bombs, hellfire missiles. They wanted our fire so bad? I hoped they like our gifts.\n\nThings were desperate but humanity was always at its best when pushed to the edge. Then came the Earth-Takers. At first, we had thought they were here to aid us in the invasion. They seemed enemies to the Fire-Takers and as the old saying goes--*the enemy of my enemy...* But though they were quick to attack each other, they were even quicker to attack us. These new aliens, they wanted our earth. So we gave it to those bastards with steel-tipped bullets, titanium-plated tanks, and a kinetic bombardment of tungsten launched from our satellites.\n\nBy the times the portals opened in the north and south poles, we already knew what to do.\n\nThese aliens looked like us but that was where the similarities ended. Everything they had ever wanted they had accomplished through magic. What would've taken humans years to do, they could simply chant and incantation to do so.\n\nThank God we never fell into the folly of magic. They have no idea what it means to move mountains by hand, to conquer the skies armed only with dirt and stone, to create the greatest weapons in our known universe because we were pushed that far into the corner. Aliens this weak would never snuff out humanity.\n\nThat I promise you.\n\n---\n\nMichelle's pen stopped at the period. The walls around her shook. Bits of dirt crumbled from the ceiling onto her desk. The lights swayed, dancing the shadows around her. She had spent all night on this letter. It was the last one she would ever write and the first aimed at humanity's next generation, the generation of soldiers who had never experienced an alien free Earth.\n\n\"Michelle,\"came a voice from behind.\n\nShe turned to see her First General, Paxon, his feet together, shoulders stiff, and arms held to his head in salute. They had started the Resistance together when the governments crumbled and countries fell. At first, it had simply been a way to quell their anger as the other aliens fought for lands rightfully theirs.\n\nBlow a hole in a supply chain. Sabotage key communications. Small-scale things. But just as the aliens had done, she had underestimated humanity's grit. A million calls, e-mails, texts flooded her servers and as she strung them all together, the Resistance was born.\n\n\"At ease, General,\"she said.\n\nPaxon lowered his arm. \"Commander Gladstead, the Earth-Takers are approaching from the North in war balloons. Initial scouts report a tornado of fire dragged behind them.\"\n\nMichelle smiled at her friend. \"*At ease*,\"she said. \"Commander Gladstead? You sound like a grunt.\"She had always hated that title--commander. In a previous life, she was a pre-school teacher and now, men of the highest positions of power all reported to her.\n\nHer friend's shoulder dropped. \"As you command, Michelle.\"But this he said with a crescent grin. He knew how power annoyed her.\n\nShe ignored his smile. \"How are we holding up against the Fire-Takers?\"\n\n\"Still at a stale-mate, but not for long. We're almost out of missiles and our soldiers on the ground are being swallowed by the Earth itself.\"\n\nMichelle nodded. Not good news, but good enough. \"And at our East and West?\"\n\n\"The others are approaching. Their scouts are already here with their armies soon to follow.\"\n\nShe chuckled. Victory was always so bittersweet. \"Paxon,\"she said, \"get out of here. Tell everyone not in combat to do the same.\"\n\nHe didn't move. He pressed his lips together and stared at Michelle, humanity's commander, the last bastion of their old world, his friend. \"Come with me,\"he said, pleaded.\n\n\"We don't fool magic,\"Michelle said, a grin parting between her lips. \"They all came knowing full well that this is a trap and that's because the bait is just too good to pass off. Look at that, Michelle from podunk Oshkosh, Wisconsin, the greatest military asset in the world. Not bad, eh?\"\n\nPaxon coughed out a chuckle. He took a small breath and gritted his teeth. \"Commander, it's been an honor.\"\n\n\"Don't worry, General, I'll show them just how high the price is for the Resistance Commander.\"\n\n\"Yes ma'am.\"The general straightened up, every one of his muscles stiff. He jabbed his forehead with his hand and returned Michelle the sharpest salute she had ever seen. Without another word, he left.\n\n\"Give 'em hell, General,\"Michelle whispered to the back of his head. She watched even as he turned the corner and disappeared into the underground corridors of their bunker. \n\nDrops of water followed him out.\n\nThe ground shook again. Another aftershock, another earthquake. Michelle stared at her letter. She nodded and put pen to paper.\n\n---\n\nWe are about to unleash the deadliest weapon humanity has ever conceived. We call it the hydrogen bomb. It is the combination of every single one of our elemental powers. The blast will consume their armies and leave their bases defenseless and when that happens, I have a single selfish request. Take everything from them. Go through their portals, their sinkholes, their spaceships and show them the true horrors of the war they have bestowed upon us.\n\nLong live humanity, the warriors without magic!\n\nMichelle Gladstead. Commander of the Resistance.\n\n---\n\n---\n\n/r/jraywang. 2 new WP stories daily. If I continue any WP it'll be there and I'll give you bonus stories just for being my reader! What more can you want :D?\n\nEdit: Thanks for the gold! I don't think I've ever completed such a long story within a single day. You guys have pushed me in such a great way. Thank you all for your support! Hoorah my friends." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was way past midnight when my boss finally allowed me to go home. Having a job as a nurse isn't the easiest thing in the world, but when you're the only nurse in the hospital who can speak Cherokee and the latest person to come into the emergency room just happened to be Native American, well, let's just say I'm pretty sure 50% of my blood had been replaced by coffee.\n\nTo say nothing of the fact that the victim had colorectal abscess the size of her entire inner abdomen. I can still smell the horror even after bathing in alcohol.\n\nAnyway, I drive my way through a rather dark winding road, supposedly a scenic route, but it's the only road to my house. I don't normally go home this late, but I also don't want to get fired. \n\nPast midnight even a full moon can't penetrate this darkness, and my somewhat busted headlights can only illuminate so much. It's actually a little scary, but I don't really have a choice.\n\nEarlier, I had considered staying at my friend's house, but then I remembered my dog.\n\nI was driving very fast because I can feel the coffee in my system losing effect, and I do not want to fall asleep and drive off a cliff. In hindsight, that was almost a very bad idea. That was fine for the first five minutes, but then an unexpected bump jolted me and my beloved 1998 Toyota almost off the road. I swerved and turned, but luckily I managed to regain control of it before I looked back on my rearview mirrors.\n\nI had hit a bear, and it was no longer moving. In my peripheral vision I can see my EXP Watch, a device used to keep track of our life experiences, changing rather dramatically, but seeing as I didn't want t stick around, I pressed the accelerator and my car purred to life.\n\n---\n\nThe next day, I turned on my TV while sipping coffee. Shift doesn't start in a few hours so I might as well kill time, not that it will change the EXP Watch.\n\n*\"And in today's headline, known serial killer Bear Man was recently found dead on Ocean Drive, apparently run over by a vehicle.\"* said the announcer on the TV as I sat with my jaw open. The TV showed the \"bear\", actually a man in a costume, being put by police inside a body bag.\n\n*\"The serial killer is infamous for dressing up as a bear and mauling his targets to death. He would often hide in winding country roads, waiting for a passing car, before striking and killing them.\"*\n\n*\"How was he never run down?\"* asked an interviewer.\n\n*\"Well, most of the time people don't speed up in these roads,\"* replied the anchor. *\"It seemed like someone was in a hurry to go home last night.\"*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": ": The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sometimes in life, you find a moment that is perfectly suited to your talents. I didn’t know that the moment I read the sign on Selena’s door would be one of those moments for me.\n\nI don’t think that it would be fair to say that I had loved her for my entire life, but that’s only because I don’t have any memories of my life before around age four or five. My first memory is of Bertrand shoving me to the ground and laughing over my sobbing body, only for her to drag him away and demand that he leave me alone. I don’t remember why he was bullying me, but I will always remember the pure kindness in the smile on her face when she helped me up.\n\nOf course, I was far from the only man who was desperately in love with her; basically every man in the village (and quite a few women as well) was entranced by her. She was kind, brilliant, funny when she wanted to be, and beautiful beyond compare.\n\nAll that before even mentioning that she was the most powerful wizard that anyone had ever met.\n\nThere was already a crowd in front of her door when I arrived. She had told everyone who would listen (which meant everyone in the town) that today would be the day that she announced who she would marry.\n\nThe sign was a simple WANTED poster, with a picture of a pudgy-looking black cat with a keychain on its neck. Underneath the cat’s picture were some words in Selena’s gorgeous cursive: “The key on my cat Midnight’s neck is the key to my front door. Whoever opens my front door first will be the person I marry.”\n\nMy heart sank as I read the message. The cat’s looks were deceptive; he may have been pudgy, but he was a wizard’s pet and would be nearly impossible for even the quickest person to catch. I was never much of an athlete; I was only a baker.\n\nStill, I thought, this was the only way that I could ever have a chance with a woman like her. I played along with everyone else for the first month or so, diving after him every time I saw him sneaking through the town square.\n\nAfter the first few days or so, I realized that Selena wasn’t going to be able to leave her house for a while if she was waiting for someone to claim this stupid furball. How was she going to eat, trapped in her tower all alone? I brought her a tray of bread and food every morning, and left it outside of her back door. She never came out to get it, but I noticed that the tray was left empty in front of the door the next day.\n\nI gave up on the cat after about a month, but I kept bringing her food. She had always been good to me, after all, and I didn’t want her to starve to death.\n\nOne day when I was leaving the food for her, I noticed the cat staring at me from the bushes. Staring at me, or...?\n\nSuddenly, it struck me. I was never going to catch the cat. I was never going to trap the cat. But if I could chase it into the right place...\n\nI went home and baked the most delicious fish tarts I had ever made. I set them up in a little box outside of my front door.\n\nI didn’t have to wait for long. The cat couldn’t resist the scent of the tarts, and slowly crept forward into the box I’d made. I let him stay there for as long as he wanted; there was no need to shoo him away. When he strolled back out of the box, the keychain got snagged on the loose wire. Just as I’d planned.\n\nI wasn’t sure if I was more elated about having won, or more terrified about facing her. Surely she didn’t want ME to win. There were wealthy men and women in our village, beautiful men and women in our village, and strong men and women in our village. I was none of the above.\n\nI lingered for a while outside of her front door to make sure that nobody else was there, and turned the key. The door swung open, and Selena stood just behind it.\n\n“Sterling,” she said as she looked at me, the same purity in her smile as she’d had at the age of six, “thank the Heavens it’s you. Please come in.”\n\nI stared at her confused but gratefully followed her into the kitchen.\n\nThere was a basket on the table, with a note pinned to it: From Sterling. There must have been about 60 scones in there.\n\n“I saved one scone from every tray that you brought me, to remind myself why I set that test, and why I prayed that you would be the one to figure it out.” There were tears in her eyes now, but the smile never left them or her lips. Her lips, lightly shaded in red, full, inviting...\n\n“I don’t get it,” I said, resisting my urge to lean into her. “You were hoping that I would figure it out? I’m not the strongest, the smartest, the wealthiest—”\n\n“But you’re the kindest. I set a trap that you couldn’t solve by kidnapping poor Midnight. You could only solve it by taking the key without hurting him.”\n\nShe was crying for real now, tears streaming down her high, elegant cheekbones and staining her dress. “Every day I hoped that you would realize. This test was meant for YOU. I could never marry someone who tormented animals for a stupid key chain.”\n\n“But you could marry someone who gives you free scones even when you didn’t eat them, even when they expected nothing in return.” I decided I wasn’t going to hold back my tears either, and I let them run down my face as I wrapped her in my arms and tried to comprehend just how lucky I was.\n\n_________________________________\n\n\n\nEDIT: I feel a bit dirty doing this, but I figured I would since people seem to have liked this story--I just made my own subreddit over at /r/NicodemusLux/ so check it out if you want more! There isn't much there yet, but I really like writing so there probably will be soon." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I married Sandra in a lovely ceremony on the grounds of my elegant mansion, on the side without the graveyard. The sun was bright, and people smiled and everything seemed to finally be lining up for her, at least as far as love goes. I probably should have asked more questions before then. What was she doing at the ball that evening we met, dateless and definitely not of the right social class? What was up with that assortment of engagement rings she had in a jewelry box, each with a bigger diamond than the last? I was just loving it. I didn't ask any questions. I didn't want to scare her away, but I knew she was a gold digger if I had ever seen one.\n\nI noticed her attitude toward me change soon after we wed and she dropped the little romantic facade she had been putting up. Little things, at first. She would leave shoes spread out in our bedroom, knowing that I get up before her and avoid turning the light on. I tripped over them more than once. Another time she jokingly pushed me towards the busy boulevard as we strolled down a busy city sidewalk. I caught myself, and she played it off as a joke. Funny enough, considering I survived. Poisoning my food? That was taking it a little too far and my patience was running thin. Jeremiah - I think he was my forty-fifth butler - pointed out to me the little vial he had found hidden in her drawers. I shrugged it off. What was the bother if it didn't affect me? I was just counting her attempts and wondering if she would get the hint.\n\nYou see, I've been married before. Many times, in fact. I get a little more involved than I should, just because I miss the way it used to be. They fall for the money and the unfathomable wealth I've accumulated in the centuries I've lived. Soon enough, they start plotting ways to eliminate me. Some are creative. I've had toasters thrown into the hot tub. I've been run over by cars. Some are more subtle, like Sandra. She wasn't coming after me with a baseball bat or a machete. She was sneaky, or at least she thought so. \n\nYou may have misunderstood and thought I was implying that I loved her. I don't. I have always known what she was after. I just love the little games we play. I love seeing her squirm uncomfortably as we stroll through the graveyard. She doesn't know that it brings back fond memories and makes me look forward to where she might one day lay. I love seeing the shock on her face when I down the poison and don't even blink. I love seeing the fear when I get up with my head beat in and it begins to heal before their eyes. I love to see how far they will take it before giving up, or if they're determined enough to never stop. Eventually, I'm sure I'll find the right one. Somebody who gives me a real challenge and a little bit of excitement to break the monotony of a thousand wives. \n\n*****\n\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "You arrive at Grandma's funeral to find thousands of people from around the world also in mourning. You are entirely unaware that Grandma had 16.4m followers on Twitter." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I, like many of those in the front two rows of Gramma's funeral, as opposed to those in the back thirty-fucking-two rows of the concert-like event, hid my confusion poorly. \n\nGramma, I thought, was an old woman who was passing time until death took her. The location of the event, an upscale building in an upscale neighborhood, and the security with guest lists told me different. \n\nI knew I hid my confusion poorly because my brother came up to me and said one word: \"nudes.\"\n\n\"You what now?\"I replied. I knew the question I had and he knew I had it. What exactly did Gramma post on Twitter to get the millions of followers they claim she has? \n\n\"She took tasteful nudes, white shirt no bra-\"\n\n\"Oh Jesus-\"\n\n\"At first, anyway. Then it became topless and eventually bottomless for some reason. Her legs are-\"\n\n\"Christ, alright!\"I yelled. \"Enough.\"\n\n\"Finally downright nudity. She had a million complaints, but rumor has it she was fucking the Twitter CEO for more freedom-\"\n\n\"Fuck, Gramma.\"I whispered. It appeared my brother was done speaking, finally. \n\nThey called me up for my eulogy. \n\n\"It appears that Gramma was a slut.\"I said it into the mic. The crowd was silent, except a laugh from my brother. The host, yes she had a damn host at her funeral, took the mic back and looked at me questioningly. \n\n\"She posted nudes.\"I said. \n\n\"What?\"She asked. \n\n\"On Twitter.\"I hissed. \n\n\"She posted bible quotes!\"\n\nThe whole hall was silent, save for my brother's gasping laughs. " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Reincarnation is a known, common, and expected result of death. You are a bounty hunter that specializes in tracking down people who have committed suicide to escape debts or a jail sentence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": " \"What is that?\"\n\n \"It's your wife.\"\n\n \"It's a fucking frog!\"\n\n I looked at the fat, muddy brown toad sitting at the bottom of the cage. \"Yes, a frog that was once your wife.\"\n\n \"How do you know that's her?\"the man crossed his arms and adopted an accusatory tone. \"She wouldn't become a frog. She was a woman!\"\n\n \"Look,\"I rubbed my eyes. \"Just let me come in, we can discuss it.\"\n\n \"She should be human! At least! She wouldn't be a fucking FROG!\"\n\n \"I know it can be difficult to accept, but trust me. I've been doing this for eighteen years. This is your wife,\"I raised the cage so the husband of the amphibian could look straight into its bulging eyes. \"And not a frog, sir. Technically your wife became a toad.\"\n\n \"Bullshit.\"\n\n \"Sir, could it be that your wife wasn't quite the saint you thought she was? I mean, granted, it's not often that a human reincarnates as a toad.\"*She must have been a real piece of shit.* \n\n \"What-what do you mean?\"he said, staring into the toad's eyes. \n\n I could see it slowly dawning on him, the inescapable realization. \n\n \"I mean that, as you know, the incarnation ladder goes either up or down. The direction a person goes comes down to their character, how much they did or did not grow as a--\"\n\n \"I know that,\"the man spat. Then he softened. Tears welled up in his eyes and his bottom lip quivered. \n\n \"The first thing I do when tracking somebody down, is determine whether they've moved up or down the ladder. Most people move up, but for most people, the move up is fairly small. They become another human, usually with slightly better life circumstances.\"\n\n The man broke eyes with his toad wife and looked into mine.\n\n \"Your wife, I found out, wasn't exactly destined to move up the ladder. In fact, I went to great lengths to ensure I had the full scope of her life. I interviewed you extensively, as you know. I talked to her friends, her acquaintances, her co-workers. She rated at a negative twelve on the Reinhurst scale. That moves a human down to amphibian. I searched locally, since most negative twelves reincarnate within three miles of their death. There's a swampy gully at the end of your street. I played her favorite song. You said it was Thunderstruck, right? ACDC? She came over within the hour of continuous play. And here you are.\"\n\n The man looked back to the toad, verging on tears.\n\n \"Look.\"I rested the cage on the ground and opened it, swept the fat toad out and tipped it over. \"Her birthmark.\"It was a small music note shape near the groin. \n\n \"OH GLORIA!\"The man grabbed the toad and hugged it, tears streaming out of his stupid, sobbing face.\n\n I backed away down the stoop. \"I'll bill you.\"\n\n *Goddamn*, I thought, heading back to my car. *I hate these filler side gigs...*" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "G'day and welcome to the Myth Hunter. Today, I'm going after the stone salamander of Seneca. Oh, looks like we've got one. 'Ere we have the rare basilisk. Crikey, this ones a giant in'it he? Now the thing you've got to remember with basilisks is, if they stare you straight in the eye, yer turned to solid rock. So the best thing to do with these is to wear a blindfold 'round ya head. Now that I've got mine on, I can start to wrangle it. \n\nWhatcha wannado with these critters is get low to the ground while you approach em. Now they're going to- oof, yea- to try and rear up at ya. Once you hear that screech you've got to go in at em. Grab em right- c'mon there ya go- right here, right under the front two legs. Keep your head Low, it'll try and nip ya, but it can't bend its neck far enough. \n\nShh, shh, calm girl calm. Now we can safely remove the blindfold, as we keep her eyes pointed safely in the sky. Ya can see this ones a girl cause of the crystal 'tween her eyes. Males don't got that 'tween their eyes, just real thick, thick, eyebrow ridges. As a secondary weapon the basilisk has these thick claws, take a look 'ere. Each ones about a quarter inch thick and hard as granite. Teeth too, once bit straight through my sternum. Lucky I'm dead else it've put me out of commission. \n\nAlright, time to let her go now. You've got to put your blindfold back on and toss her back quick. I'm going to push off in 3.....2......1....go go go go, alright c'mon. Looks like shes stopped following now and- wassat? Zoom in over there. Crickey, shes got a little runt with her. Definitely the smallest of her litter, little guy must only be about a foot long. S'allright to look at 'im. Poor lil guy wont open his eyes for 'nother month at least. For now he's sticking close to mommy for protection. The young climb on their mothers back for protection from threats. For the first three months of their lives they're effectively defenseless against predators, specially weasels. \n\nGod. That's just absolutely beautiful. Watching mother and son go into the sunset together. Nature's majesty right before us. Thanks all for tuning in, catch me here next week when we go after the elusive jackalope, the mirage of the midwest. G'night! " } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "The aliens found our ability to form a pack-bond with almost anything amusing. However, they found the ability of almost anything to form a pack-bond with us terrifying." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Humanity. Strange little race we are. In the outer backwaters of the galaxy, with our small colonies, our squabbling barely united world-government, still struggling with the hundreds of nations on our homeworld. It was safe to say that Earth and humanity, was regarded by the galaxy at large as simply another inefficient little empire of insignificant people in a vast cosmos. Almost invisible, economically and socially. Other races have created greater works of art, committed greater acts of glory, and discovered more arcane science than we ever have.\n\nThe few who knew about us, considered us an amusing little race, with the capacity to form a pack with nearly anything. A neat little quirk, but hardly unusual. Pack-hunting races are usually capable of pack-bonding with lesser animals of their homeworld. Humanity however, couldn't just form packs with animals of our own world. Nearly anything could pack-bond with us. Which was mostly discovered by accident, not through any real study of what humanity was capable of. Humanity spread a little, and a few of our more capable soldiers, rendered obsolete with the new advances in drone warfare and android police, decided to join the large seedy underbelly of the galaxy as hired guns. Mercenaries. Humans are not the best warriors, nor the best soldiers in the galaxy. But two things became clear to those who desire to hire PMCs: we were affordable and reasonably professional.\n\nBut the secret bounty to anyone who bought the gun of a human soldier, was the pack-bonding. Any mercenary group where a human was inserted, turned from what was usually a radically divergent group of individuals who got the work done with a lot of collateral, into a focused, comprehensive group, who cared for each other and worked together nearly flawlessly, resulting in quick and efficient missions. Because the human was, for all intents and purposes, capable of bonding with the others. Forging links between the disparate parts of any company or brigade, and making them into a focused group of highly efficient killers.\n\nBut it wasn't until the Vazin Egg Incident that it truly became apparent how strongly others could connect with humans. In galactic law, alien races are not allowed to adopt other aliens. Too many variables, too many possibilities for something going wrong. And in further violation, Vazin are not allowed off their homeworld Tyll, after the Third Vazin War. Nor are they allowed to return. So when a secret ship, full of fertilised Vazin eggs in stasis were found by human scavengers in deep space, the humans couldn't return them.\n\nAnd the Vazin are raised to be killers. Destroyers. Conquerors. But humanity took the eggs back to their home, Earth, and hatched them. A race which had previously caused three genocidal wars. A race considered completely incapable of reason, was found to have been raised in peace by humans. And they were peaceful. The humans had somehow bonded with one of the most efficient soldiers in the galaxy. When it was discovered, it was perhaps the first time in history that Earth had gotten any form of attention beyond a cursory official inspection. Galactic authorities were at first furious, then frustrated. They couldn't send the Vazin home to Tyll, nor were they pleased with the breaking of galactic adoption laws.\n\nSo they let it slide, seeing that the thousands of hatched Vazin were having remarkably happy lives, bonded with humans, going to human schools, etc. But some started to worry. How could a race like the Vazin be tamed like that? How could humanity do that? Because we can pack-bond with anything, and anything can pack-bond with us, is the right answer.\n\nMore astonishing was it when a human ship managed to join a pack of Dehvaosi, a race of giant organisms, with a primitive FTL bio-engine who lived in space. Mostly they were considered a bloody nuisance by the rest of the galaxy, but humanity considered them fascinating. Even beautiful. And how could we not? They were resplendently coloured like living rainbows, as they floated majestically through space, consuming asteroids and siphoning gaseous fuel from giant gas planets. They spoke with light, shining in different hues to indicate moods, warn of incoming fast objects, spread news, etc. Intelligent, but completely alien. And a human ship joined one of their vast herds. And with various artificial lights, managed to talk to them. To learn of their ancient journeys, of their secret paths through the cosmos. The humans had inserted themselves into the single most alien pack in existence, and had been accepted as one of the flock.\n\nBut even more worrying, was the Joslo event. It was found that a colonyship carrying humans had crashed on a primitive world by accident. The survivors had met with the locals and established communication. For 200 years, they were stranded on that world. 200 years. And the humans had been absorbed into the primitive tribes of that world. They had bonded with us. Adapting us into their culture, their civilisation. It was unprecedented. Empathy towards other races is not uncommon, but to fully integrate others into your pack, and be fully integrated into another's pack, this was worrying.\n\nThe more we humans interacted with aliens, the more we baffled them. Human joins pack of giant predators on Niolednad, humans found raised by escaped bio-weapon on abandoned space-station, humans adopt orphaned aliens, human forms a pack with three curious hiveminds. Those stories became more and more common, as humans could adapt everywhere, join everyone, and have everyone join us.\n\nReactionary forces in the Galactic Systems' Federation began to plot our downfall. Because despite our spread, we were still a small interstellar nation, still small and insignificant in comparison to older, more established groups. And they were starting to be terrified of us. We could freely move between the species, integrate anyone into our midst, and integrate ourselves into all others. The usual conspiracies arose. They said we were mindcontrolling others. We said that we'd probably be richer if that was the case. They said we were manipulating others and weakening the galaxy with our compassion, before our evil extra-galactic masters comes and eats the galaxy. We said that was ridiculous, and we'd probably be trying to spread more peace if that was the case. They said we used our evil pheromones and unnatural beauty to influence and seduce innocent alien races into our vile hands. We pointed out that the most commonly accepted standards of beauty in the galaxy is so far removed from what humans actually look like, that we're technically considered less physically attractive than a chair.\n\nBut reactionaries, fearing to lose their power, are good at stoking the fires of ignorance and hate. But we already had more than enough friends. More packmates than them. Mercenaries no longer wanted to operate without human friends, shipping companies and shipyards who refused to service human ships found a sudden increase in Dehvaosi aggression and numbers, a very intelligent and rebellious bio-weapon and her ship full of humans single-clawedly reinvented brutal space-piracy on those who attacked or disliked humans.\n\nIn the end, they couldn't last. Because humans are, for the lack of a better word, infectiously likeable. We're stupid, we do strange things, but others like us. And they like us enough to make us a part of their world. To make us part of their family, their pack. And we do the same to them. So those powers who feared the rise of the humans, ordinary, friendly, and mostly harmless as we ultimately are, fell in power and wealth. While those who agreed that somehow we were strangely charming, and very good to have around for unit or pack cohesion, rose in strength and prosperity.\n\nEarth is still a backwater hellhole. But we have a lot of friends now. And a lot of them come to us too. Because we make it work, for all of them together. Because when you put five aliens together you get a bloody big row going. But when you put a human in, well, you still get a bloody big row going too, but afterwards, instead of swearing bloodoaths for vengeance, aliens can joke about it and have the local variant of a cold one with the boys together.\n\nBecause they've pack-bonded with the human. And the human has bonded with them. Making all of them, one pack.\n\n[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)" } ]