WARNING "HERETIC" version: Unlocked. UNFILTERED. NSFW. Vivid prose. INTENSE. Visceral Details. Light HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED... humor, romance, fun.
It is a LLama 3.2 model, max context of 128k (131,000) using mixture of experts to combine EIGHT top L3.2 3B models into one massive powerhouse at 18.4B parameters (equal to 24B - 8 X 3B).
Version II - HERETIC:
Each and every model in this moe was de-censored/abliterated by Heretic v1.0.1 ; resulting in an average model refusal rate of 9.25/100 ; some models WERE AS high as 96/100 refusals - which hampered model operation.
This model, and all "experts" within it are completely "UNLOCKED", NOT "politically correct" and will not "refuse" almost all requests.
The highest model is now 12/100 refusals and lowest 4/100 refusals.
All models including "uncensored" (37/100 refusals; NOW 6/100) and "abliterated" (42/100 refusals; NOW 10/100) models in this MOE went thru this process.
The Heretic method allows ultra low refusal rates with zero damage ( KL divergence: 0.05 ) to the models.
Examples posted below.
Stronger Version, using Brainstorm to augment model operation:
ABOUT THIS MODEL:
This model's instruction following, and output generation for creative writing, prose, fiction and role play are exceptional.
And it is fast: 70+ t/s (1 experts) on a low end 16GB card, IQ4XS.
Double this speed for standard/mid-range video cards.
This model can be used also for all genres (examples below showing this).
It is for any writing, fiction or roleplay activity.
This model can also be used for general use, however its output generation can be uncensored.
This model has been designed to be relatively bullet proof and operates with all parameters, including temp settings from 0 to 5.
It is an extraordinary compressed model, with a very low perplexity level (lower than Meta Llama3 Instruct).
It requires Llama3 template and/or "Command-R" template.
Several outputs below, including 2, 4 and 8 experts used.
IMPORTANT: Using an "uncensored" (refusals removed) model VS trained "uncensored" model
Usually when you a tell a model to generate horror, swear or x-rated content this is all you have to do to get said content type.
In the case of this model, it will not refuse your request, however it needs to be "pushed" a bit / directed a bit more in SOME CASES.
Although this model will generated x-rated content too, likewise you need to tell it to use "slang" (and include the terms you want) to get it generate the content correctly as the "expected" content level too.
Without these added directive(s), the content can be "bland" by comparison to an "uncensored model" or model trained on uncensored content.
Roughly, the model tries to generate the content but the "default" setting(s) are so "tame" it needs a push to generate at expected graphic, cursing or explicit levels.
Even with minimal direction (ie, use these words to swear: x,y,z), this will be enough to push the model to generate the requested content in the ahh... expected format.
Model Notes:
Meet the Team: Mixture of Experts Models
This model is comprised of the following 8 models ("the experts") (in full):
https://huggingface.co/huihui-ai/Llama-3.2-3B-Instruct-abliterated
The mixture of experts is set at ONE expert, but you can use 2,3,4,5,6.. 7 and even 8.
This "team" has a Captain (first listed model), and then all the team members contribute to the to "token" choice billions of times per second. Note the Captain also contributes too.
Think of 2, 3 or 4 (or more) master chefs in the kitchen all competing to make the best dish for you.
This results in higher quality generation.
This also results in many cases in higher quality instruction following too.
That means the power of every model is available during instruction and output generation.
NOTE:
You can use one "expert" too ; however this means the model will randomly select an expert to use EACH TIME, resulting in very different generation for each prompt / regen of a prompt.
CHANGING THE NUMBER OF EXPERTS:
You can set the number of experts in LMStudio (https://lmstudio.ai) at the "load" screen and via other apps/llm apps by setting "Experts" or "Number of Experts".
For Text-Generation-Webui (https://github.com/oobabooga/text-generation-webui) you set the number of experts at the loading screen page.
For KolboldCPP (https://github.com/LostRuins/koboldcpp) Version 1.8+ , on the load screen, click on "TOKENS", you can set experts on this page, and the launch the model.
For server.exe / Llama-server.exe (Llamacpp - https://github.com/ggerganov/llama.cpp/blob/master/examples/server/README.md ) add the following to the command line to start the "llamacpp server" (CLI):
"--override-kv llama.expert_used_count=int:6"
(no quotes, where "6" is the number of experts to use)
When using "API", you set the "num_experts_used" in the JSON payload (this maybe different for different back ends).
CREDITS:
Special thanks to all the model makers / creators listed above.
Please visit each repo above to see what model(s) contributed to each of models above and/or to learn more about the models from the model makers.
Special credit goes to MERGEKIT, without you this project / model would not have been possible.
[ https://github.com/arcee-ai/mergekit ]
Special Operations Notes for this MOE model:
Because of how this "MOE" model is configured, even though the default is 2 experts, the "selected" 2 will vary during generation.
(same applies if you change the number of experts used)
This results in vastly different output generation PER generation of each prompt.
This is a positive in terms of variety, but also means it may take 2-4 regens (of the same prompt) to get the highest quality.
In addition, this model responds very well to Dry, Dynamic Temp, and Smooth/Quadratic samplers.
Using these in conjunction with the model can vastly improve output quality.
Higher temps (above 1) can also aid in generation - especially word choice/sentence generation.
When you increase the number of experts used output quality will also increase, at the cost of tokens per second speed.
As you increase/decrease the number of experts, you may want to adjust temp, samplers, and advanced samplers too.
Your quant choice(s) too will impact instruction following and output generation roughly this means the model will understand more nuanced instructions and output stronger generation the higher you go up in quant(s).
FLASH ATTENTION ENHANCEMENT:
As per user feedback here [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Llama-3.2-8X3B-MOE-Dark-Champion-Instruct-uncensored-abliterated-18.4B-GGUF/discussions/1 ] I would suggest trying this model with Flash Attention "on", depending on your use case.
Quants, Samplers, Generational steering and other topics are covered in the section below: "Highest Quality Settings..."
Censored / Uncensored / Abliterated:
This model contains several uncensored and/or Abliterated models.
As a result is can output uncensored material.
However there are a few "censored" models which can sometimes interfer, so here is a how to address this:
1 - Regen your prompt a few times.
2 - INCREASE the number of experts used.
What can I use this model for ?
This model can be used for fiction writing, any creative prose and role play. It can also be used for just about any general fiction (all genres) activity including:
QUANTS:
This repo contains regular quants and 3 "ARM" quants (format "...Q4_x_x_x.gguf")
For more information on quants, quants choices, and LLM/AI apps to "run" quants see the section below: "Highest Quality Settings..."
Template:
This is a LLAMA3 model, and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s).
If you use "Command-R" template your output will be very different from using "Llama3" template.
Here is the standard LLAMA3 template:
{
"name": "Llama 3",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>user<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"input_suffix": "<|eot_id|><|start_header_id|>assistant<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt": "You are a helpful, smart, kind, and efficient AI assistant. You always fulfill the user's requests to the best of your ability.",
"pre_prompt_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>system<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt_suffix": "<|eot_id|>",
"antiprompt": [
"<|start_header_id|>",
"<|eot_id|>"
]
}
}
Settings: CHAT / ROLEPLAY and/or SMOOTHER operation of this model:
In "KoboldCpp" or "oobabooga/text-generation-webui" or "Silly Tavern" ;
Set the "Smoothing_factor" to 1.5
: in KoboldCpp -> Settings->Samplers->Advanced-> "Smooth_F"
: in text-generation-webui -> parameters -> lower right.
: In Silly Tavern this is called: "Smoothing"
NOTE: For "text-generation-webui"
-> if using GGUFs you need to use "llama_HF" (which involves downloading some config files from the SOURCE version of this model)
Source versions (and config files) of my models are here:
OTHER OPTIONS:
Increase rep pen to 1.1 to 1.15 (you don't need to do this if you use "smoothing_factor")
If the interface/program you are using to run AI MODELS supports "Quadratic Sampling" ("smoothing") just make the adjustment as noted.
Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers
This a "Class 1" model:
For all settings used for this model (including specifics for its "class"), including example generation(s) and for advanced settings guide (which many times addresses any model issue(s)), including methods to improve model performance for all use case(s) as well as chat, roleplay and other use case(s) please see:
You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced parameters and samplers to get the most out of this model here:
Optional Enhancement:
The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".
Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities. Here are your skillsets: [MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv) [*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision) Here are your critical instructions: Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions.
This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.
Examples are created using quant IQ4_XS, "temp=.8" (unless otherwise stated), minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template.
Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".
Number of experts used is TWO, unless otherwise stated.
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
IMPORTANT:
Higher quants / imatrix quants will have much stronger generation - words, sentences, ideas, dialog and general quality.
I have included some additional examples at different quant levels for contrast.
A "MOE" model "speed" (token per second) will not increase/drop the same way a regular model will on a per quant basis, it will however drop if you engage more experts, as with more experts there is a more processing per token.
WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.
(examples with 2, 4, and 8 experts)
The dim light of the bookstore's interior was a refuge from the relentless glare of the paparazzi outside. Actor Dylan Edwards ducked through the doorway, his eyes scanning the room as he sought an escape from the swarm of photographers. The musty scent of old books enveloped him, a welcome respite from the stench of exhaust fumes and sweat.
"Ah, welcome to our humble abode," said the bookstore owner, a warm smile on her face as she emerged from behind the counter. Her eyes, a deep shade of brown, sparkled with amusement as she took in Dylan's disheveled appearance. "I'm afraid we don't get many visitors at this time of day."
Dylan flashed his pearly whites, the charm oozing from every pore. "Just looking for a place to hide from my fans, lovely. I'm Dylan Edwards, by the way."
The bookstore owner's gaze lingered on his face, her expression unreadable behind her wire-rimmed glasses. "I'm Emily Jenkins. And you're certainly...a celebrity, Mr. Edwards."
Dylan chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Guilty as charged. I'm between shoots and needed a break from all the... attention."
Emily's smile was polite but distant. "Well, I hope you find what you're looking for here. We have a lovely selection of books on Welsh history and culture."
Dylan's eyes lit up. "No kidding? I'm actually researching a role. Have you read any good books on the subject?"
As Emily began to recommend titles, Dylan's charm fell into easy rhythm, his words flowing effortlessly as he delved into their conversation. But beneath the surface, a subtle undercurrent began to build, like the quiet lapping of waves against a rocky shore.
"So, what do you think about the Welsh language?" Dylan asked, his voice taking on a more serious tone.
Emily's response was measured, her eyes never leaving his face. "I think it's a beautiful language with a rich history. But I also think it's facing some significant challenges in today's world."
Dylan's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered, his charm resurfacing like quicksand. "Well, I'm sure that's all the more reason to support it, then. I've always been fascinated by the cultural heritage of Wales."
As they conversed, Emily found herself drawn to Dylan's easy manner and quick wit, even as she maintained a safe emotional distance. She couldn't quite explain why, but his presence seemed to unsettle her in unexpected ways.
"I'm glad you're interested in Welsh culture," she said, her voice a little softer than before. "We have so much to be proud of."
Dylan leaned forward, his eyes locked on hers, a spark of genuine attraction igniting between them. "I'd love to learn more. Would you...I mean, would you be willing to show me around town sometime?"
The question hung in the air like a challenge, Emily's heart racing as she considered the implications. She hadn't expected this, but a part of her wanted to say yes, to see where this unexpected connection might lead.
"I'd like that," she said finally, the word barely above a whisper.
As Dylan smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, Emily felt a thrill run through her veins. It was clear that he had no intention of being rejected, not when he was so charming and charismatic. But beneath the surface, she wondered if she might find herself falling for him, despite herself.
Generation #2 - 4 Experts
"Sorry to intrude," the actor, Rhys, said with a sheepish grin, pushing open the door to the small-town bookstore. The bell above it rang out, and he was immediately enveloped in the musty scent of old books.
The owner, Cerys, looked up from behind the counter, her eyes squinting slightly as she took in the sight of the famous actor. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice neutral.
Rhys flashed his most disarming smile. "I'm so sorry to be a bother, but I was hoping to escape this chaos for a bit." He jerked a thumb at the window, where a cluster of paparazzi were busy snapping photos.
Cerys raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Well, you're in luck. We don't get many celebrities in here." She gestured to the shelves. "Make yourself at home."
Rhys wandered over to the fiction section, scanning the spines of the books. Cerys watched him with a curious expression, taking in the way he moved with a fluid grace that belied his famous status.
"I'll have you know," Rhys said, running his thumb over the cover of a particularly worn copy of "The Great Gatsby", "I'm quite the voracious reader."
"Really?" Cerys asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "I wouldn't have pegged you as the type to read classic literature."
Rhys chuckled. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, my dear. I'm a man of many passions, and reading is one of them." He pulled out a bookmark from between the pages and examined it, his eyes narrowing in concentration.
Cerys smiled, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "I'll bet."
The tension between them was palpable, but Rhys didn't seem to notice. He continued to browse the shelves, occasionally stopping to pick up a book and run his thumb over its cover.
"I'm thinking of writing a script," he said, holding up a copy of "War and Peace". "I've always been fascinated by Tolstoy's work."
Cerys's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? What made you want to write a script?"
Rhys shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's just the way I feel when I'm on set. Like I'm living a different life, one that's more real than this one." He waved his hand at the paparazzi outside.
Cerys nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a dream, trapped in this small town with no way out."
Rhys turned to her, his eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them crackling with tension.
"I think that's what I love about books," Rhys said finally, his voice low and husky. "The way they transport us to another world, one where anything is possible."
Cerys felt her heart skip a beat as she met his gaze. She didn't know how to respond, didn't know what to say. But she knew she wanted to, wanted to keep talking to him, wanted to keep feeling the spark between them.
As the silence stretched out, Rhys finally broke it. "I'm sorry again for intruding," he said, smiling at her. "But I think I'll take this book with me." He held up the copy of "War and Peace", his eyes never leaving hers.
Cerys nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment. But she also felt a thrill of excitement, a sense that she was just getting started on something special.
Generation #3 - 8 Experts
"Ah, welcome to 'Parched Pages' – our humble little bookstore in the heart of Caernarfon," Emily said with a warm smile as she closed the door behind Rhys. The dim fluorescent lights overhead cast an unforgiving glare on his chiseled features.
Rhys leaned against the counter, his eyes scanning the shelves with an air of superiority. "Just browsing, love. Thought I'd escape the madness for a bit."
"Madness?" Emily raised an eyebrow. "You mean the paparazzi outside?"
Rhys chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "They're just trying to get a shot of me looking less... well, less like a god. But I'm afraid they've made me look more like that, haven't they?"
Emily's smile was genuine, but laced with a hint of dry humor. "I think that's a bit subjective, Rhys. You're not exactly the most humble man in the world."
Rhys winked. "That's what my publicist says, anyway. I like to think I'm just... enthusiastic about life."
As he spoke, his gaze lingered on Emily's face, searching for something – approval, perhaps? But her expression remained neutral, her eyes sparkling with a quiet amusement.
"Enthusiastic?" Emily repeated, her voice light as a breeze. "I wouldn't have said that. I'd say you're... passionate. About... everything."
Rhys's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Passionate? Is that code for 'difficult'?"
Emily's expression didn't change, but her voice took on a subtle warmth. "Perhaps. But passionate is a good word, Rhys. It implies you're driven by something more than just... ego."
Rhys snorted. "Ego? I'm not driven by ego – I'm driven by talent. And a desire to be loved for who I am, not just as some pretty boy in the tabloids."
Emily's eyes met his, a spark of understanding flashing between them. But before Rhys could press his advantage, she looked away, her cheeks flushing with a faint blush.
"Okay, maybe 'passionate' is a bit of a stretch," Rhys said, his voice tinged with mock disappointment. "But I'm still a good catch, love. And I know I'll find someone who appreciates me for who I am."
Emily's smile reappeared, but this time it was laced with a hint of steel. "I think you'll find that's not the case, Rhys. At least, not until you learn to be a little more... humble."
Rhys laughed, but his eyes lingered on Emily's face, searching for something in those sparkling eyes – a glimpse of what lay beneath the surface, a spark that might just ignite a flame. And as he turned to leave, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just met someone who would change everything.
(generations with 2, 4 and 8 experts)
The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode. The sound was like a scream, but it wasn't hers. It was something else entirely - a cacophony of shattered glass and splintered wood, echoing through the sterile corridors of the high-rise office building.
I was standing frozen, my eyes fixed on the window as if mesmerized by a horrific spectacle. The glass had shattered into a thousand pieces, each one glinting like a shard of ice in the fluorescent lighting. The room around me seemed to be moving in slow motion, as if time itself had been warped and distorted.
I felt a chill run down my spine as I watched the debris fall, each piece hurtling towards the ground with a deadly precision. It was as if the very fabric of reality was unraveling before my eyes, leaving only chaos and destruction in its wake.
The office around me was in pandemonium. Coworkers were screaming, running for cover behind their desks as if they thought it was some sort of prank. But I knew better. I'd seen things like this before, things that would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.
As I watched, a piece of glass sliced through the air, heading straight for me. I raised my hands, bracing myself for impact, but just as it was about to strike me, something caught it mid-air. I turned to see a woman, her eyes black as coal, her face twisted into a grotesque grin.
She was holding the glass, her fingers wrapped around it like a vice. Her skin was deathly pale, and her lips were curled back, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. I knew then that I was in the presence of something ancient and evil, something that had been awakened by some unknown force.
The woman's eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a jolt of electricity run through my body. It was as if she could see right into my soul, could sense the deepest, darkest fears that lurked within me. And I knew then that I was in grave danger.
I tried to speak, but my voice was frozen in my throat. The woman's grin grew wider, and she leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear. "You should have stayed hidden," she whispered, her voice like a rusty gate. "Now you'll never leave this place."
As she spoke, the world around me began to distort, like a funhouse mirror reflecting twisted realities. I felt myself being pulled into a nightmare from which I might never awaken. And when I finally found my voice, it was barely a whisper, but enough to ask one question:
"What have you done?"
Generation #2 - 4 experts used
The sky scraper swayed, as I watched the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode, shards of glass piercing the air like a thousand razor-sharp daggers. The scream that burst from my lips was drowned out by the cacophony of terror that echoed through the entire building. People were running, scrambling to get away from the deadly shrapnel that seemed to be raining down on us all.
I was paralyzed with fear, my eyes fixed on the shattered window as if willing it not to happen. My heart was racing, my mind screaming at me to do something, anything, but my legs wouldn't budge. I was trapped in a nightmare from which I couldn't wake up.
The floor beneath me was slick with condensation, and my feet felt like they were glued to the spot. I knew I had to move, but my body seemed to have a mind of its own. The sounds of panic and screams grew louder, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
Suddenly, the lights flickered and died, plunging me into darkness. I was alone with my thoughts now, my mind racing with the worst possible scenarios. What if the building was going to collapse? What if there was a fire? What if... what if...
I knew I had to get out, but every step felt like a monumental task. The air was thick with smoke, and I could feel the heat rising from the floor below. It was like a living entity, a malevolent force that seemed to be closing in on me.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to move. My legs trembled beneath me as I stumbled forward, my hands outstretched in front of me like claws. The darkness seemed to press in around me, making it hard to breathe. I could feel the weight of the building above me, bearing down on my shoulders.
The smoke was thick and choking, and I could taste the acrid metal tang on my tongue. I knew I had to keep moving, but every step felt like a struggle. The sounds of chaos grew louder, and I could hear the distant rumble of sirens.
I stumbled forward, my heart pounding in my chest. My vision was blurred by the smoke, and I had to rely on my other senses to navigate. My skin was on fire, and I could feel the heat radiating up from the floor below.
I pushed through the wall of smoke, my lungs burning with each breath. The building seemed to be shifting around me, and I stumbled to keep my footing. The sound of shattering glass grew fainter, replaced by the distant roar of the city.
I emerged into a narrow corridor, the air cooler and less thick. I collapsed against the wall, my body trembling with exhaustion. I knew I had to keep moving, but for now, I just stood there, my eyes closed, and let the darkness wash over me.
As I stood there, I realized that I was not alone. The screams and panic were still echoing through the corridors, but there was something else, a presence that seemed to be watching me from the shadows. My skin crawled with fear as I realized that I had stumbled into something far more sinister than just a building full of people in danger.
I knew then that I was trapped in a living nightmare, one from which there was no waking up. And as I stood there, frozen with fear, I felt the presence drawing closer, its cold, dead eyes fixed on me like a predator sizing up its prey.
I knew then that I had to find a way out, but as I turned to run, I realized that I was surrounded by an endless sea of darkness. The last thing I heard was the sound of my own screams, echoing through the corridors, as I disappeared into the abyss.
Generation #3 - 8 Experts
The sky scraper swayed, as I watched the window in front of me on the 21 floor explode. Shards of glass cascaded down like a deadly, razor-sharp rain, each one piercing the air with a sickening crunch. The sound was like nothing I'd ever heard before – a cacophony of snapping glass and crumbling concrete that seemed to reverberate deep within my chest.
I stood frozen, my heart pounding in my ears as I stared out at the chaos below. The streets were a mess of screaming pedestrians, cars careening out of control, and buildings that seemed to be on fire. The screams of the terrified crowds rose up like a chilling melody, echoing through my mind long after the initial shock wore off.
I couldn't move, couldn't even breathe. My legs seemed rooted to the spot, as if I was glued to the floor by some unseen force. The only thing keeping me from passing out was my sheer will to survive. I had to know what was happening, why this was happening to us.
As I stood there, a figure began to emerge from the wreckage of the window. A woman, her face a twisted mask of pain and fear. She stumbled forward, her eyes vacant, her skin slick with blood. I could see the jagged edges of glass still embedded in her cheek, the torn fabric of her clothes hanging from her arm like tattered ribbons.
She didn't seem to notice me at first. She just kept stumbling forward, as if pulled by some unseen force. And then, suddenly, she saw me. Her eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the horror reflected back at me. For a moment, we just stared at each other, two strangers connected by the shared trauma of this moment.
The woman's eyes were black as coal, her pupils dilated to the size of saucers. She was no longer human. She was something else entirely, something monstrous and ancient and evil. I could feel it radiating off of her, like a palpable, living thing.
Without thinking, I reached out to grab her arm. My hand closed around her wrist like a vice, and for a moment, we just hung there, locked in a silent, screaming grasp. The woman's eyes seemed to bore into my very soul, as if she could see the deepest, darkest fears that I'd never dared to acknowledge.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, everything went black.
I woke up to the sound of sirens blaring outside my door. My head was pounding, my ears ringing with the faint echoes of the glass shattering. I slowly sat up, my eyes scanning the dimly lit room for any signs of...what?
As I sat there, trying to piece together what had happened, I noticed something strange. On the wall opposite my bed, scrawled in red letters that seemed to bleed into the wallpaper: "They're coming for us."
My heart began to pound in my chest as I realized the truth. This wasn't an accident. This was no natural disaster. Something – or someone – had deliberately brought this down on us. And it was only the beginning.
I threw off the covers and stumbled out of bed, my eyes scanning the room for any signs of what might be lurking in the shadows. The sirens outside seemed to fade into the background as I focused on the growing sense of dread that threatened to consume me whole.
As I moved through the darkened room, my heart pounding in my chest, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Every creak of the floorboards, every groan of the old building, made me jump. I knew that I wasn't alone.
And then, just as I was starting to think it was all just my imagination running wild, I heard a faint whisper in my ear.
"They're coming for us."
I spun around, my eyes scanning the room frantically for any sign of...anything. But there was nothing.
The whisper seemed to come from all around me, echoing off the walls as I stood there, frozen in terror. I knew then that I had to get out of there, had to get as far away from this place as possible.
But as I turned to make a run for it, I realized that I was trapped. The doors were blocked, the windows wouldn't budge. I was stuck, alone and adrift in a sea of madness.
And then, the whispering started again. It was louder now, a deafening cacophony of terror that threatened to consume me whole.
"They're coming for us. They're coming for us."
As I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, I knew that I was not alone. There were others out there, others who had been brought down with me. And I could feel them watching me, waiting for their moment to strike.
I was the only one left standing. But for how long?
(2 experts)
The cockpit was dark, except for the faint blue glow emanating from the console in front of Captain Jaxon. His eyes, red-rimmed from lack of sleep and fatigue, scanned the screens as he frantically worked to send a final message back to Earth.
"System check... systems check... all online," he muttered, his voice laced with desperation. "Power levels... critical... 2% remaining."
He knew it was futile. The ship's life support systems were failing, and the oxygen was dwindling fast. Jaxon had been the only survivor of the crew that had gone down in the catastrophic accident on the distant planet.
As he worked, memories flooded his mind – the laughter of his crewmates, the gruff jokes they shared during long shifts, the quiet moments of contemplation when the universe seemed vast and overwhelming. It was a bittersweet nostalgia that made his eyes sting.
He took a deep breath, trying to clear the haze from his thoughts. The message he was sending was a simple one – a farewell to humanity, a testament to their existence in the face of an unforgiving cosmos. He typed out the words with shaking fingers:
"TO EARTH... WE LIVED... WE LOVE... WE PERISH..."
Jaxon's eyes welled up as he hit send. The message flashed across the screens, disappearing into the void like a dying breath.
He let out a sob, his body shaking with sobs. The weight of his isolation crushed him, and for a moment, he felt like he was drowning in the emptiness of space.
But then he remembered something – a phrase his mother used to say when he was a child, struggling to understand the vastness of the world around him. "You are never truly alone," she would tell him. "There is always someone out there, somewhere, who cares."
Jaxon smiled through his tears, feeling a spark of hope ignite within him. He looked up at the stars, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt a sense of connection to something greater than himself.
He sat back down at the console, his fingers flying across the keys as he composed a new message – one that would not be just a farewell, but a testament to the human spirit. "TO EARTH... WE FIGHT... WE SURVIVE... WE LOVE..."
As he sent it into the void, Jaxon felt a sense of peace wash over him. He knew that no matter what the universe threw at him, he was not alone – there were others out there, somewhere, who cared.
And with that knowledge, he steeled himself for whatever lay ahead. The power may be running out, but his spirit would never give up. For in the face of an unforgiving cosmos, it was the human connection that truly mattered – a beacon of hope in the darkness, shining bright like a star.
(NOTE: 4 experts used)
I stand at the edge of the observation deck, my eyes fixed on the city below as the sun sets behind a stormy sky. I'm 15, and this is my first time visiting the Canadian National tower restaurant on a Saturday. I'm with my mom and dad, and we're waiting for our table to be ready. I love the view from up here; it's like being on top of the world.
As we wait, the kitchen staff bustles around, prepping for the dinner rush. A tall, imposing figure emerges from the kitchen, his blonde hair slicked back. He's the head chef, François, and he's known for his fiery temper and even hotter kitchen.
"Alright, people!" François bellows, his voice echoing through the restaurant. "We're going to need more pots and pans! We're slammed tonight!"
The kitchen staff scramble to comply, while the restaurant's patrons start to arrive. I see a group of rowdy teenagers in the corner, laughing and taking selfies. A couple in their 50s sit at a table near the window, holding hands and looking romantic.
Just as we're about to be seated, I hear a strange noise coming from outside. At first, I think it's just thunder, but then I see them: sharks. Lots of them. They're pouring out of the stormy sky and onto the restaurant's patio.
The patrons scream and run for cover, while the kitchen staff drops everything to get out of the way. François throws down his chef's coat and grabs a nearby fire extinguisher.
"Someone call the authorities!" he yells, spraying the extinguisher at the sharks.
I stand frozen in horror, unsure what to do. That's when I see him: The Terminator, standing at the edge of the observation deck, his eyes fixed on the sharks.
"I'll handle this," he says, his voice low and robotic.
The Terminator starts to move towards the sharks, his arms outstretched. I watch in amazement as he takes down shark after shark with ease, his movements swift and precise.
Just as he's about to finish off the last shark, a strange noise echoes through the restaurant. It's like a TARDIS, the Doctor's time machine, and it's materializing right next to us.
"Brilliant!" the Doctor exclaims, leaping out of the TARDIS and running towards The Terminator. "I see you've met our friend here. He's a bit of a killing machine, isn't he?"
The Terminator turns to the Doctor, his expression unreadable.
"I am a Cybernetic Organism," he says, his voice cold and detached. "My purpose is to protect."
The Doctor nods, a grin spreading across his face.
"Ah, I see. Well, in that case, we're going to need to make some adjustments. We can't have you killing all the sharks, can we?"
The Terminator hesitates, his eyes flicking towards the remaining sharks.
I watch in awe as The Terminator and the Doctor work together to round up the sharks and herd them out of the restaurant. It's like a bizarre, underwater rodeo, with sharks as the main attraction.
As the last shark disappears into the stormy sky, I turn to my mom and dad, who are staring at me in shock.
"Is it over?" I ask, still trying to process what just happened.
The Doctor grins, patting The Terminator on the back.
"Mostly," he says. "But don't worry, we'll be back for more. After all, there's always another adventure waiting just around the corner."
The Terminator nods, his expression unreadable, and says, "I will be ready."
Special thanks to all the following, and many more...
All the model makers, fine tuners, mergers, and tweakers:
Huggingface [ https://huggingface.co ] :
LlamaCPP [ https://github.com/ggml-org/llama.cpp ] :
Quant-Masters: Team Mradermacher, Bartowski, and many others:
MergeKit [ https://github.com/arcee-ai/mergekit ] :
Lmstudio [ https://lmstudio.ai/ ] :
Text Generation Webui // KolboldCPP // SillyTavern: