User 350f37919414... - AI Fiction in the Wild

Estimated User #20

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 opening prompts (computed with all-MiniLM-L6-v2 sentence-transformer) has cosine similarity ≥ 0.75 and they share the same state (Renfrewshire). Groups are merged transitively—if A matches B and B matches C, all three are grouped even if A and C are below 0.75.

350f37919414... primary

1480 conversations

Sample prompts:

Write a news article about the cold pill brand Drixenol becoming extremely popular during Covid, and the disclaimer says Drixenol is actually a major plot point and character from a movie

Write a news article about the cold pill brand Drixenol becoming extremely popular during Covid, and the disclaimer says Drixenol is actually from a movie

This is the pre-Spidey Kids WB lineup from late 2007 7:00am: Will & Dewitt 7:30am: Magi-Nation 8:00am: Tom and Jerry Tales 9:00am: Skunk Fu! 9:30am: Shaggy and Scooby-Doo Get a Clue! 10:00am: Eon Kid ...

7f1c9460103b...

71 conversations

Sample prompts:

Write a story about Emie, a female amorphous, gloopy black blob from a far off planet, She visits and studies planets, getting to know their inhabitants, so she can form bonds with them

Write a story about a planet inhabited by blobs of a gooey, thick, viscous black liquid

Write a story about a planet inhabited by gelatinous blobs

Write a forum convo where a Kids WB fan says unfortunately Magi-Nation is now permanently associated with Will & Dewitt

Write a forum convo where a Kids WB fan says unfortunately Magi-Nation is now permanently associated with W&D

1,552 total fiction conversations over 6 months, 4 days (Oct 26, 2023 – Apr 28, 2024) Renfrewshire, United Kingdom

Explore Story Permutations (145)

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Story permutations group this user's prompts into themes based on how similar their wording or meaning is. Click a group to see how the user's prompts evolved: within a selected group, each prompt is shown as a word-level diff against the previous one — green marks text the user added, and red strike-through marks text they removed. This reveals how the user revised, expanded, or pruned their prompts as they iterated. Jump to methodology →

Showing 2 conversations in story permutation C136× “In the heart of a lush forest, where the trees stretched to ...” over 10 days (Jan 21, 2024 – Jan 31, 2024), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Jan 21, 2024 at 9:06 PM GMT — 2 exchanges United Kingdom, Renfrewshire fiction toxic View full conversationView

USER: In the heart of a lush forest, where the trees stretched to touch the sky and a river wound lazily like a ribbon of sparkling blue, there lived a peculiar pig named Marjorie. Marjorie was no ordinary pig. She had a curious ability, an enchantment of sorts, that set her apart from her fellow forest dwellers. She could melt into mud. It all began on a day like any other, when Marjorie was basking in the dappled sunlight. The earth was softly fragrant with the scent of rain from the night before, and Marjorie was rolling around in her favorite mud pit with great gusto. As she reveled in the gooey delight, she felt a sudden coolness envelop her and, to her surprise, she found herself sinking deeper into the mud than ever before. With a little squirm and a squelch, Marjorie realized she was melting into the mud itself, becoming one with the mire in a way that felt strangely comforting. When she willed herself to reassemble, she rose from the mud, her pink skin speckled with flecks of earth, as if she had never disappeared into the muck at all. Word of Marjorie's marvelous ability trickled through the forest like the babbling brooks that crisscrossed the woodland floor. She became a creature of legend--a pig that could vanish into the very earth and emerge unharmed. The other animals would often come to her mud pit to watch this spectacle of nature, for Marjorie was more than happy to demonstrate her talent. The squirrels would chatter from the trees, and the rabbits would prick up...

CHATBOT: Bounding through the forest, a young rabbit named Oliver hopped with joy, his soft fur sparkling in the dappled sunlight. As he frolicked amidst the wildflowers and sprightly ferns, he caught a familiar scent wafting through the air. It was the rich, earthy aroma of Marjorie's favorite mud pit. Intrigued, Oliver followed his nose, his fluffy white tail bobbing behind him. The forest grew denser as he approached the mud pit, and soon he saw the telltale signs of Marjorie's presence--a mucky brown puddle, glistening under the filtered light. Curiosity piqued, he crept closer to get a better look. As Oliver descended upon the muddy patch, his eyes widened in astonishment. Sticking out from the puddle, like brown, gooey tentacle-like appendages, were several strange formations. Oliver watched in fascination as the appendages shifted and moved, swirling and writhing in the mud. It was as if they had a mind of their own. Unable to resist, Oliver hopped cautiously closer, his ears perked with interest. The appendages seemed to respond to his presence, twisting and rising higher out of the mud. And then, in a sudden burst of movement, the gooey shapes transformed before Oliver's eyes. The tentacle-like formations morphed into sturdy, well-defined hooves, firmly planted on the earth. Oliver watched in amazement as the appendages straightened, lengthened, and thickened, forming the unmistakable profile of a pig's legs. And then, as if on cue, Marjorie's familiar, rounded form emerged from the depths of the muddy puddle, restored to her usual self. Amidst a chorus of rabbit gasps and chirping birds overhead, Marjorie shot Oliver a mischievous grin. "Surprised, are you?" she asked, wagging her curly tail. Oliver's jaw dropped, struggling to find the right words. "Marjorie, I've never seen anything like it! Your appendages, they transformed into hooves, and then... you're back to being a pig! It's incredible!" The wise pig nodded, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Indeed, my friend. The transformation you witnessed is a part of my unique ability to meld with the muddy depths. It allows me to shape-shift and adapt, becoming one with the earth." Oliver's ears quivered with excitement. "But why do you choose to transform, Marjorie? What purpose does it serve?" Marjorie's smile turned thoughtful. "Ah, little rabbit, it is a way for me to embrace the elements that surround me, to connect with the forest at its core. By transforming, I am reminded of the ever-changing nature o...

USER: Write a short story where a squirrel stumbles upon her in mud form, the mud bubbles, this is just flatulence, The squirrel says this is unusual, which gives her away and she morphs into her pig dorm and introduces herself

CHATBOT: In the heart of the forest, where the trees rose high and sunlight danced through the leaves, a squirrel named Nutmeg scampered along a branch, her bushy tail trailing behind her. As she leaped from tree to tree, the scent of damp soil reached her delicate nose. Curiosity piqued, Nutmeg followed her instincts, hopping down to the forest floor. Guided by the earthy aroma, Nutmeg scurried through the underbrush until she stumbled upon a peculiar sight--a mud puddle with mysterious brown bubbles bubbling up from within. Intrigued, Nutmeg crept closer, her beady eyes fixated on the peculiar sight. Curiosity and caution mingled within Nutmeg's mind as she twitched her whiskers. "This is unusual," Nutmeg chirped softly, addressing the bubbling mud. "I've never seen mud behave quite like this." From within the mud, a faint chuckle bubbled up with the gas. Embarrassed, Marjorie realized that her transformation had caused an unexpected flatulence response from her muddy form. Mortified, Marjorie quickly willed herself to reform, lest she further alarm the squirrel. As the mud receded, revealing her familiar pig shape, Marjorie gave Nutmeg a sheepish smile. "Well, hello there," she greeted, her voice lighthearted. "Apologies for the bubbling--it seems my transformation came with an unexpected side effect." Nutmeg's eyes widened, surprise and curiosity intermingling on her furry face. "You can transform? How extraordinary! I've never met a pig with such unique abilities." Marjorie nodded, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Indeed, my friend. My name is Marjorie, and I possess the gift of melding with mud, transforming my shape to become one with the earth." Nutmeg's tail twitched with excitement as she hopped closer to Marjorie. "I am Nutmeg, a humble woodland squirrel, and I must say, your ability is quite remarkable. It must allow you to navigate the forest in extraordinary ways." Marjorie chuckled heartily, her ears perking up. "Oh, Nutmeg, it surely does! With this gift, I can slip through narrow crevices and navigate hidden paths. It's a joy to explore the marvelous vastness of this forest." The squirrel's eyes sparkled with admiration. "I can only imagine the tales you have to tell and the secrets you've unraveled within this enchanted realm." Marjorie nodded knowingly. "Indeed, Nutmeg. The forest holds countless mysteries and wonders, and I have been privileged to witness its secrets firsthand." Drawn by Marjorie's warmth and sense of adventure, Nutmeg couldn't...

Cluster 136

Jan 31, 2024 at 10:40 PM GMT — 5 exchanges United Kingdom, Renfrewshire fiction View full conversationView

USER: In.In the heart of a lush forest, where the trees stretched to touch the sky and a river wound lazily like a ribbon of sparkling blue, there lived a peculiar pig named Marjorie. Marjorie was no ordinary pig. She had a curious ability, an enchantment of sorts, that set her apart from her fellow forest dwellers. She could melt into mud. It all began on a day like any other, when Marjorie was basking in the dappled sunlight. The earth was softly fragrant with the scent of rain from the night before, and Marjorie was rolling around in her favorite mud pit with great gusto. As she reveled in the gooey delight, she felt a sudden coolness envelop her and, to her surprise, she found herself sinking deeper into the mud than ever before. With a little squirm and a squelch, Marjorie realized she was melting into the mud itself, becoming one with the mire in a way that felt strangely comforting. When she willed herself to reassemble, she rose from the mud, her pink skin speckled with flecks of earth, as if she had never disappeared into the muck at all. Word of Marjorie's marvelous ability trickled through the forest like the babbling brooks that crisscrossed the woodland floor. She became a creature of legend--a pig that could vanish into the very earth and emerge unharmed. The other animals would often come to her mud pit to watch this spectacle of nature, for Marjorie was more than happy to demonstrate her talent. The squirrels would chatter from the trees, and the rabbits would prick up their ears in astonishment. One day, disaster struck. A fierce fire, ignited by a bolt of lightning, tore through the forest with a rapacious hunger. Animals scurried in every direction, seeking refuge from the smoke and flames that consumed their once-peaceful home. As Marjorie saw the panicked creatures dashing by, she knew she had to help. She ambled toward the heart of the conflagration, where the fire's fury was the strongest. Marjorie closed her eyes and willed herself to sink into the mud beneath her. But this time, it was different. She seemed to spread, to dissolve entirely, becoming not just a part of the mud pit but a part of the wider forest floor. Her essence traveled through the subterranean network of soil and root, carrying with it all the coolness of the underground world. Wherever Marjorie's presence flowed, the soil became moist, and soon, rivulets of water bubbled up to the earth's surface. The fire met this unexpected resistance with hissing fury, but to no avail. Patches of land that had been licked by flames were now dampened, giving the forest creatures a chance to escape or find safe ground. Marjorie pulled her consciousness back, coalescing into form once more within her beloved mud pit, exhausted but unharmed. The fire had been halted in its tracks, and while much had been lost, the heart of the forest still beat strong--thanks to the bravery and unique ability of one female pig. The story of Marjorie, the pig who could melt into mud, was no longer just a marvel but a legend of heroism. The forest slowly healed from the wounds inflicted by the fire, and Marjorie's mud pit became a symbol of hope and renewal. And if you happen to pass by her forest on a day when the sun filters through the canopy just so, you may very well catch a glimpse of Marjorie, at peace in her mud and surrounded by friends, forevermore a guardian of her green, leafy realm. Write a story where a hedgehog sees her slowly melting, only her legs, tail and rear end (Basically her entire bottom half, upside down) were still visible, they slowly melted, leaving only a mud puddle, The hedgehog marvels at her unique ability, and thinks of it like shape-shifting In a cozy corner of the verdant forest, where ferns unfurled like emerald scrolls and wildflowers danced in the soft breeze, there dwelt an inquisitive hedgehog named Hattie. Known for her keen eye and boundless curiosity, Hattie had encountered many wonders as she scuttled through the underbrush on her daily forays. One warm afternoon, as dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves, Hattie came upon her friend Marjorie, the pig with a most unusual talent. Marjorie was indulging in her favorite pastime, wallowing in the thick, cool mud at the edge of a small clearing. Hattie, ever fascinated by the peculiarities of her forest companions, paused to watch. As Marjorie lay contentedly in the mud, a tranquil expression etched upon her face, something extraordinary happened. Hattie's eyes widened with surprise as she witnessed Marjorie begin to melt before her very eyes--slowly, as if the mud were claiming her, drawing her down into its murky depths. Starting from her back, the transformation overtook her gradually, and before Hattie could even fathom what was occurring, all that remained above the mud's surface were Marjorie's legs, her curly tail, and her pleasantly plump rear end--sticking out oddly, and almost comically, upside down. Then, as if succumbing to the pull of some unseen force, these too began to liquefy, the last bits of pink fading into the brown as they gently dissolved, leaving behind nothing but a tranquil mud puddle where Marjorie once lay. Hattie blinked a few times, making sure that her eyes were not betraying her. But where her friend had been, there truly was nothing more than an ordinary puddle of mud -- if any mud puddle in this enchanted forest could be called ordinary. The hedgehog pondered over what she had just seen. To her, it seemed as though Marjorie had mastered some sort of magical shape-shifting, becoming one with the earth in a way she had never thought possible. She marveled at the thought that perhaps the mud had always been a part of Marjorie, or Marjorie a part of the mud--an extension of the life-giving soil that nurtured the roots of the forest. Hattie's spines bristled with excitement as she considered the implications. She thought of the butterfly that metamorphosed from a caterpillar and the tadpole that grew into a frog. Such transformations were natural, but Marjorie's gift was something more--something altogether magical. Minutes passed, with Hattie rooted to the spot, her gaze fixed on the puddle that was once a pig. And then, just as she took a hesitant step forward to investigate closer, the mud stirred. Slowly, the puddle began to swirl, and from its center, Marjorie emerged once more, as if being sculpted by invisible hands from the earth itself. She reformed wholly as if the disappearance act had been nothing more than a quiet interlude. Splattered with specks of her muddy haven, Marjorie grinned at Hattie. "I never tire of doing that," she said, her voice warm and comforting. Hattie chuckled, her quills shaking with mirth. "You, my friend, are quite a marvel. Your talent for melding with the mud, it's like shape-shifting indeed!" Marjorie gave a little snort, pleased by the comparison. "I suppose it is a bit like that, isn't it?" She paused and looked at Hattie thoughtfully. "Just imagine the places one could go, the things one could see if we could all shape-shift in our own way." With a parting wiggle of her ears, Marjorie said farewell to Hattie, who slowly made her way back through the woods, her mind a-whirl with the day's mystical encounter. From that day forward, Hattie's view of the world was forever altered, for she had witnessed the magic of transformation--a magic that reminded her that even the most ordinary creatures could harbor the most extraordinary secrets. Write a story where a rabbitsquirrel goes to a mudthe puddle and sees brown, gooey tentacle-liketentacle like appendages sticking out, after moving around a lot, they change into hooves as Marjorie gains her usual pig formout of the mud, these appendages look gooey, When she notices this, the appendages begin to morph and eventually Marjorie appears

CHATBOT: Nestled within the dense thicket of the forest, where the vibrant chorus of birdsong filled the air, resided a squirrel named Sandy. She was a lively creature with an insatiable curiosity that often led her on adventures from the highest treetops to the maze of roots beneath the forest floor. One afternoon, as Sandy bounded across the branches in search of treasures untold, she glimpsed a most peculiar sight below. With a flick of her fluffy tail, she scampered down the trunk of an oak tree and approached the edge of a clearing. There lay a mud puddle, but to Sandy's astonishment, it was not just any puddle--it seemed alive. From the heart of the muddy basin, brown, tentacle-like appendages stretched outward, wiggling and reaching like the branches of a willow tree in a gentle breeze. They appeared gooey and slick, as though the earth itself had sprouted slender, pliable limbs. It was an eerie yet enthralling sight, one that rooted Sandy to the spot with a blend of fear and intrigue. But as Sandy's sharp eyes fixed upon the mud's mysterious movements, the animate tendrils began to change. The appendages twisted and reformed, thickening here and thinning there, as if guided by an unseen artist's hand. The limb-like extensions rippled and undulated, and before the squirrel's widened eyes, the brown mass pulled into itself and then upwards, assuming a more familiar shape. The mud seemed to solidify and give birth to the form of Marjorie, the enchanted pig known for her magical melding with the earth. As she emerged, standing triumphant over the puddle that had cradled her form, Sandy could see the last remnants of the mud sloughing off Marjorie's flanks, leaving her skin gleaming in the filtered beams of the forest light. Sandy chittered with delight, her initial shock melting into admiration. "Marjorie!" she exclaimed, her bushy tail vibrating with excitement. "I thought the mud had come to life with its own spirit!" Marjorie chuckled, a deep, melodious sound that resonated with the quiet symphony of the forest. "Ah, it was only me, my little friend," Marjorie replied, shaking the last droplets of mud from her ears. "Just practicing, you know. A pig must keep her skills sharp!" With a knowing nod, Sandy approached the edge of the reformed mud pit. "Your talent is truly remarkable, Marjorie. I've never seen anything like it. You're full of surprises!" Sandy's keen eyes danced with mirth. "For a moment, you had me believing mud could dance like the treetops in...

CHATBOT: As the golden shafts of light began to stretch out, painting the forest floor in warm, amber tones, Sandy the squirrel made her way from the clearing. The air was still tinged with the magic of her recent encounter, and her mind buzzed with the marvels of Marjorie's otherworldly talents. Their exchange had filled her with a sense of kinship and wonder that only the forest's mysteries could inspire. She leaped gracefully from root to stone, her tiny heart thrumming in her chest with the excitement of the day's revelations. She considered the endless possibilities that nature's magic could hold and the secrets it whispered in the dancing leaves and silent stones. But as Sandy prepared to ascend the rough bark of her favorite oak tree, her sensitive ears caught an unusual sound--a soft, squelching noise that was unmistakably the melody of sludge and mud in motion. Sandy paused, her paw hovering just above the next foothold, her attention drawn back to the clearing she had just left. Compelled by innate curiosity, she turned around, her gaze drifting toward the now familiar mud pit. There, she saw Marjorie, once more engaging in the mysterious dance between form and fluidity. Marjorie stood at the edge of the mud puddle, her eyes closed in serene concentration. With the grace of a leaf surrendering to the wind, Marjorie began to sink. The first to meld were her hooves, which softened and spread into the mud, sending ripples across the surface. Then her legs followed, oozing down like dripping wax from a candle, seamlessly merging with the sludge below. Sandy watched with bated breath as Marjorie's transformation progressed--her lower half now indistinguishable from the mud, becoming one with the earth. The sounds of the sludge enveloped the clearing, a quiet symphony accompanying the vanishing act. The pig's broad back and then her shoulders succumbed to the mud's gentle pull, and soon only her head remained above the surface, her contented expression unbroken by the enveloping muck. And just like that, with one final, moist sound, Marjorie's head, too, melded into the mud. A few heartbeats of silence lingered, as if the forest itself held its breath. Sandy stood stock-still, her eyes reflecting the remnants of the twilight. As the last of the ripples settled upon the mud pit, all that remained of Marjorie was a tranquil mirror of earth and water, a testament to her incredible gift. Sandy's whiskers twitched, her initial surprise giving way to a serene smile. ...

Cluster 136