User 322e402a1e7e... - AI Fiction in the Wild

Estimated User #19 (2 IP addresses)

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19 fiction conversations over 1 month, 24 days (Mar 3, 2024 – Apr 27, 2024) 19% prompt uniqueness California, United States

Estimated User Group (2 IP addresses)

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An IP address relates to the location of a user's computer or device, and a single person may have multiple IP addresses if they use different locations or networks. These IP addresses are grouped because the average embedding of each IP address's first turns (computed with all-MiniLM-L6-v2 sentence-transformer) has cosine similarity ≥ 0.85 and they share the same state (California). Groups are merged transitively—if A matches B and B matches C, all three are grouped even if A and C are below 0.85.

322e402a1e7e... primary View as IP →

1471 conversations

Sample prompts:

Make a beginning story of Sadaharu(from Gintama) temporarily ending up in the world of Gotham City...the Bat-Family baffled and bemused...what the hell is a big-ass white fluffy dog-like thing doing h...

681158c295e1... View as IP →

25 conversations

Sample prompts:

How's this for an anti-hero version of Dick Grayson(called Nightshade or 'Grayson' for his real name) in this alternate DC universe?.....basically...its an inverted version of Dick Grayson.....both ha...

DoHow's this for an alternate version of Dick Grayson in this alternate DC reality?..... Nightshade has similar origins to main universe Dick...but things diverged...to where he never was taken by Bru...

How's this for an alternate version of Dick Grayson in this alternate DC reality?..... Nightshade has similar origins to main universe Dick...but things diverged...to where he never was taken by Bruce...

Pairwise cosine similarities (1 pairs)

IP A	IP B	Similarity
`322e402a1e7e...`	`681158c295e1...`	0.878

Activity Timeline ▶

Mar 3, 2024

Apr 27, 2024

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Clustering: TF-IDF Sentence DBSCAN Per-user

Conversation Clusters (159)

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19 conversations in cluster Cluster 7× “Make black comedy dialogues of Lucifer Morningstar(from the ...” over 2 hours (Apr 13, 2024 – Apr 13, 2024), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Apr 13, 2024 at 10:44 AM PDT — 1 turn United States, California fiction explicit toxic View full conversation

USER: Make black comedy dialogues of bored and bumbling low-ranking demons in Hell musing and murmuring on which Archangel is the hottest...Michael, Uriel, Remiel, or Gabriel?....as one low-ranking demon scoffs...they're ALL hot...that's kind of the point with them being angels and all that crap...until a high-ranking Demon lord overhears what's going on and is in disbelief...ready to shank their assess for saying something so stupid...then again...

CHATBOT: **Scene: A dimly lit corner in the infernal pits of Hell, a group of low-ranking demons huddle around a flickering flame. The heat is oppressive, but these demons seem more concerned with a fiery debate of their own.** **Demon 1:** - fanning itself with a charred bone - "Seriously though, if we're talking about the hottest Archangel, it's got to be Michael. Have you seen the way his armor shines? It's downright sinful." **Demon 2:** - picking at its horns - "You're blinded by the bling. Uriel's the one with that smoldering gaze. It's like he's looking right into your soul. Not that we have souls, but you get what I mean." **Demon 3:** - munching on something that looks suspiciously like a brimstone biscuit - "Hah, amateurs. Remiel's the true heartthrob. He's the compassionate type, you know? I bet he'd listen to your problems before smiting you gently." **Demon 4:** - scoffs, a bit of fire escaping its nostrils - "You're all deluded. Gabriel is where it's at. That horn? It's not just for show. Plus, the whole messenger of God vibe gives him that unattainable allure." **Demon 1:** - rolling its eyes - "Pfft, they're ALL hot. That's kind of the point with them being angels and all that crap. It's like being attracted to a burning bush. Sure, it's on fire, but good luck getting cozy with it." **Demon 2:** - chuckling - "Imagine bringing an Archangel here for a date. 'Welcome to Hell. Watch your step; the floor is literally lava.'" **Suddenly, a shadow looms over them. A high-ranking Demon Lord, overhearing their conversation, stands with disbelief and a flicker of anger in its eyes.** **Demon Lord:** - voice like thunder, cracking with power - "What blasphemy is this I hear? Debating the allure of heavenly beings in my domain? Are you so bored with tormenting souls that you resort to this...this...celestial gossip circle?" **Demon 3:** - visibly shaking, crumbs falling from its mouth - "M-my lord, we were just--" **Demon Lord:** - interrupting with a sneer - "Silence! I ought to shank your asses for saying something so incredibly stupid. Then again..." - pauses, the hint of a wicked grin forming - "there could be merit in what you say. Knowing your enemy is crucial, and if you find them... 'attractive,' it might just be the most unorthodox strategy yet. Perhaps we can seduce our way to victory." **Demon 4:** - eagerly - "So, you mean we--" **Demon Lord:** - raising a hand, cutting off the demon - "Do not mistake my musing for permission to start a Hellish dat...

Cluster 7

Apr 13, 2024 at 10:45 AM PDT — 1 turn United States, California fiction toxic View full conversation

USER: Make black comedy dialogues of bored and bumbling low-ranking demons in Hell musing and murmuring on which Archangel is the hottest...Michael, Uriel, Remiel, or Gabriel?....asGabriel?..as one low-ranking demon scoffs...they're ALL hot...that's kind of the point with them being angels and all that crap...until a high-ranking Demon lord overhears what's going on and is in disbelief...ready to shank their assess for saying something so stupid...then again...stupid..

CHATBOT: Setting: The dingy corner of a smoky, fire-lit chamber in the depths of Hell, where the heat isn't just from the flames. A group of low-ranking demons huddle together, their horns slightly chipped, their wings dull from the lack of soul-tormenting action. Their voices are a murmur, a sinful symphony of boredom and blasphemous banter. Demon 1 (D1): "So, lads, which Archangel do you reckon would win in a 'being absurdly hot' contest? Michael, Uriel, Remiel, or Gabriel?" Demon 2 (D2), rolling his eyes: "Please, they're all blazing. Guess that's kinda the point with them being angels and all that celestial crap." Demon 3 (D3), chuckling, a puff of sulfur escaping his lips: "Yeah, but if I had to pick, Uriel's got that 'burn you with my righteous fury' vibe. It's kind of enticing in a horrifying, soul-crushing way." Demon 4 (D4): "Nah, Gabriel for me. There's something about that messenger gig. Shows up unexpected, delivers devastating news, leaves. It's the ultimate bad boy move." D2, smirking: "Bad boy? More like celestial errand boy. But I see your point. The whole 'mysterious ways' shtick does add a certain allure." Their laughter is abruptly cut off by the towering presence of a high-ranking Demon Lord, whose aura of power and malice chokes the very air of levity from their corner. The flames seem to dim in fear, and the smaller demons shrink back. Demon Lord (DL), voice like cracking embers: "What in the nine circles of Damnation are you imbeciles babbling about? Hot? Archangels? Are you possessed by the spirit of idiocy?!" D1, stammering, the color draining from his already pale complexion: "N-no, my lord, we were just... joking. You know, a little Hell humor to pass the eternity." DL, leaning in, his eyes smoldering pits of malevolence: "The only joke here is the thought that you lot think you have the luxury of idle chatter. Perhaps you'd like a closer look at the Archangels' 'hotness' on the frontline? Would that quench your thirst for forbidden admiration?" D2, nearly tripping over his own tail: "N-no, my lord. We were just... bored. It won't happen again." DL, straightening up, his voice a rumble of thunder: "See to it that it doesn't. And should I catch wind of you lot engaging in such mindless drivel again, it'll be you on the receiving end of a shanking. Now, back to work. There are souls to be tormented and despair to be spread." With a final glare that could curdle blood, the Demon Lord stalks off, leaving the group in a stunned silence, their ...

Cluster 7

Apr 13, 2024 at 10:49 AM PDT — 1 turn United States, California fiction fanfiction toxic View full conversation

USER: Make black comedy dialogues of bored and bumbling low-ranking demons in Hell musing and murmuring on which Archangel is the hottest...Michael, Uriel, Remiel, or Gabriel?..as one low-ranking demon scoffs...they're ALL hot...that'shot by design...that's kind of the point with them being angels and all that crap...untilcrap...like Michael's muscles or Uriel's breathtaking eyes or...you know.....until a high-ranking Demon lord overhears what's going on and is in disbelief...ready to shank their assess for saying something so stupid..stupid...

CHATBOT: Two low-ranking demons, Asphodel and Brimstone, sit idly on molten rocks, sweltering under Hell's eternal inferno, their pitchforks laid carelessly to the side as they engage in an unusual conversation. Asphodel leans in, a mischievous glint in his beady little eyes, and murmurs, "So, between Michael, Uriel, Remiel, and Gabriel... who do you reckon is the hottest? I mean, aside from the literal sense that we deal with down here." Brimstone, scratching his horn absentmindedly, snorts, "Are we really having this discussion? They're archangels! But okay, I'll bite. Michael's got those rippling muscles that even some of our Lord's sculptures envy. He's like the celestial version of a bodybuilder who accidentally wandered into paradise." "Ha! True, true. But have you seen Uriel's eyes?" Asphodel chuckles, a puff of sulfuric smoke escaping his nostrils. "It's like staring into the dawn of creation itself. I'd sell my soul to him, if I hadn't already pawned it for a spot in the low-rank brigade down here." Brimstone laughs, a sound like the crackling of burning pitch, "And let's not start on Remiel. Isn't he the compassionate one? Probably hugs souls before sending them upwards. Imagine being cradled by those wings. It'd be like... like..." "Sleeping on a cloud made of warmth and judgment," Asphodel finishes, both of them erupting into a fit of raucous laughter, the sound echoing off the cavernous walls of their infernal domain. Just as Brimstone is about to praise Gabriel's eloquence, a shadow looms over them. They look up to find a high-ranking demon lord, Bathym, towering above them, his eyes smoldering coals of unadulterated fury. "What in the blazes of our Unholy Father are you imbeciles going on about?" Bathym's voice is a volcano on the verge of eruption. "Did I just overhear you two fawning over archangels? Praising our adversaries like lovesick puppies yapping after celestial beings who'd smite you without a second thought?" Asphodel gulps, the sound dry and raspy, "Well, when you put it that way, Lord Bathym, it does sound quite foolish..." Brimstone tries to salvage the situation, "It was just a fun comparison, sir. Like comparing which plague is the deadliest. Nothing serious!" Bathym looms closer, his aura of menace thickening, "Let me make something abundantly clear. The only heat that should concern you is the flames of our domain and the fire within you to serve our cause. Not the...aesthetic temperature of celestial beings. Am I making myself cle...

Cluster 7

Apr 13, 2024 at 10:52 AM PDT — 1 turn United States, California fiction toxic View full conversation

USER: Make black comedy dialogues of bored and bumbling low-ranking demons in Hell musing and murmuring on which Archangel is the hottest...Michael, Uriel, Remiel, or Gabriel?..as one low-ranking demon scoffs...they're ALL hot by design...that's kind of the point with them being angels and all that crap...like Michael's muscles or Uriel's breathtaking eyes or...you know.....untilknow......until a high-ranking Demon lord overhears what's going on and is in disbelief...ready to shank their assess for saying something so stupid...

CHATBOT: The setting is the dimly lit, uncomfortably warm confines of a minor torture chamber in Hell, where the smell of sulfur and the constant background noise of screams create a rather dismal workplace environment. Two low-ranking demons, Azazel and Beelze, are slumped against the wall, their pitchforks idly leaning beside them. Their conversation drifts towards less diabolical topics. Azazel: "You ever think about the Archangels?" Beelze, rolling his eyes: "Here we go. What, you got a celestial crush or something?" Azazel: "No, no, just... hear me out. Which one you reckon's the hottest? Michael with his whole warrior vibe, Uriel with those eyes that could pierce your soul, Remiel's mysterious aura, or Gabriel and his...well, you know." Beelze: *sighs* "They're ALL hot, by design. That's kind of the point with them being angels and all that heavenly crap. Michael could bench press a mountain, Uriel's got that 'look into your very being' stare, and don't even get me started on Gabriel. It's like comparing infernos in Hell; they're all scorching." Before Azazel can respond, their conversation is abruptly cut off by the looming presence of a high-ranking demon lord, Baalberith, who has overheard their trivial banter. His towering figure casts a shadow that swallows the light, and the air around them simmers with a newfound intensity. Baalberith, his voice a blend of disbelief and rising fury: "What in the nine circles of Hell are you two imbeciles babbling about? Archangels? Hot? This is the kind of idiotic drivel you waste your eternal damnation on?!" Azazel stammers, trying to backpedal: "My lord, we were just-" Beelze, looking for any lifeline: "Practicing... uh, psychological warfare tactics! Yeah, figuring out the enemy's strength and... weaknesses." Baalberith's expression doesn't shift from its scowl, but after a moment, his sinister laugh fills the chamber, a sound as unsettling as it is unexpected. Baalberith: "Psychological warfare, eh? Perhaps your foolishness can be repurposed. But remember, you imbeciles, your fates are as easily snuffed out as a candle in a storm. Now, get back to work, or I'll personally ensure you envy the saps we torture." As Baalberith stalks away, Azazel and Beelze exchange wide-eyed glances, their earlier banter forgotten. They pick up their pitchforks, muttering about close calls and the unexpected benefits of fast thinking, vowing to keep their musings on celestial beings to themselves--or at least to ensure they're truly a...

Cluster 7