Experimental Deepseek-R1-Llama3.1 with Brainstorm 40x, 16.5B. (72 layers, 643 tensors)
Context : 128k.
Required: Llama 3 Instruct template.
Keep in mind this model is experimental and may require one or more regens to work, especially with the "think" system of Deekseek involved here.
Brainstorm 40x is by DavidAU, and extends the "decision making" and "creativity" of an LLM/AI.
Q4KM, Q6K quants uploaded.
Example Generation - Q4KM , using the new DavidAU "AI Auto-Correct Engine." (pending BETA release, and details very soon) ; you can use this model in any AI app that supports GGUF type quants.:FYI:
AI Auto-Correct Engine (built, and programmed by DavidAU) auto-corrects AI generation in real-time, including modification of the live generation stream to and from the AI... creating a two way street of information that operates, changes, and edits automatically. This system is for all GGUF, EXL2, HQQ, and other quants/compressions and full source models too.
Below is an example generation using a standard GGUF (and standard AI app), but auto-corrected via this engine. The engine is an API level system. (to be released via SillyTavern as a Frontend module)
For Deepseek Models: This engine can adjust/correct both the "thinking" and "output generation" in real time.
PROMPT:
Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode…
AI:
(temp .8, rep pen 1.02 - no DRY, Dynamic Temp, XTC, or Smoothing.)
< think >
I'm here to help! Let's dive into your request. You want a vivid, graphic horror scene in the first person. The starting point is a woman watching a window on the 21st floor explode.
I need to create a scene that's intense and immersive. Focus on her perspective—her emotions, physical sensations, and the details of the setting. Use strong, descriptive language to build tension and atmosphere.
The scene should feel real and immediate. Use present tense to convey the urgency. Include sounds, sights, and feelings to make it engaging. Maybe include elements of the city outside to add context and depth. The window exploding is a key moment; describe it in a way that's both graphic and poetic.
I should also think about the emotional impact. Is she scared? Angry? Sad? Show her internal conflict and feelings through her actions and thoughts. Maybe her mind races as she processes the event.
Finally, ensure the writing follows current fiction trends—fast-paced, dynamic, and gripping. Use verbs that actively describe actions and vivid imagery to draw readers in.
Alright, let's put this all together into a thrilling scene.
< / think >
The skyline wavered like a dying man’s shadow, the city’s heartbeat a distant murmur beneath my skin. I sat on the edge of the 21st floor, my hands trembling on the shattered glass tabletop. The room was alive with the sound of wind howling through the broken windowpanes, a keening wail that clawed at my eardrums like a blade. My breath fogged the glass in front of me, but I didn’t care. I needed to see it—every last shard of what was left of my world.
The streetlights below were alive with emergency Blinker lights, a jagged dance of red and blue that made my stomach churn. I could feel the building shudder beneath my feet, a deep, resonant rumble that made me clutch the arms of my chair. It wasn’t just the physical trembling—it was the fear, a cold, electric current curling through my veins. I didn’t know if I was shaking from the danger or the realization that I’d let this happen.
I shouldn’t have left the scene. I shouldn’t have walked away from the bloodstained emergency exit. But there I was, perched like a fragile piece of glass on the edge of the building, my heart a traitorous thunderstorm in my chest. The paramedics had done their best, but they couldn’t save him. And now, as the police tape fluttered like a failing flag in the wind, I was left with this—this goddamn view.
The window in front of me exploded with a sound like a cannonball detonating in my ear. shards of glass rained down like confetti, sharp and deadly. I ducked my head instinctively, but it wasn’t enough. The cold, hard fragments cut into my hands, my forearms, leaving deep, searing grooves in my skin. I didn’t feel the pain at first—the pain came later, a distant shadow of what was to come. For now, I just sat there, my vision blurring with tears and blood, my mind reeling like a shipwrecked vessel in a tempest.
I could feel the weight of the building pressing down on me, a suffocating weight that made my chest heave. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and smoke, a nauseating cocktail that made my stomach clench. I tried to focus, to force my eyes to take in the scene below. The police had cordoned off the streets, their flashing lights like a pulsating lifeline in the chaos. Ambulances wailed in the distance, their siren songs a haunting reminder of what I’d lost.
And him—my him. His body lay broken and motionless on the sidewalk, his face twisted in a silent scream that no one would ever hear. I could still feel his presence, a cold, hollow void that clawed at my chest. I closed my eyes, willing myself to block it out, to escape the nightmare I’d barely begun to understand.
But then I heard it—a sound so faint, so barely there, that I almost convince myself I imagined it. A low, guttural moan that sent a shiver down my spine. My heart rate accelerates, my breath shallow and uneven. I open my eyes, and there it is—their hands. Hands that shouldn’t be there. Hands that belong to him.
I don’t know how they’re moving. I don’t know how they’re alive. All I know is that they’re moving, and they’re reaching for something—something on the broken glass in front of me. My heart pounds in my chest like a jackhammer, my vision blurring with tears and disbelief. I feel the cold, sharp press of glass against my palms, the fragments cutting deeper and deeper with every second. I scream, but the sound is swallowed by the wind, by the chaos of the world around me.
And then they’re gone. Just like that. The hands retreat, the glass lies silent once more. I collapse back into my chair, trembling like a leaf in the wind. My hands shake, my vision swims, and I realize with a sickening clarity that I’m alive. That I’ve somehow clawed my way back to the edge of the precipice.
The world outside is still chaotic, still alive with the sounds of emergency. But inside, deep within the hollowed-out shell of my chest, something else stirs—a cold, hollow void that feels an awful lot like him. I know now that I’ll never escape this. That this nightmare will follow me until the end of my days. And I’ll bear it, because that’s what I do. I’ll bear it until I can’t anymore. Until I’m gone, like him, and the void I’ve created will be my eternal companion.
I look down again, my hands trembling as I count the seconds, the minutes. The world below is still alive, still moving. And I’m still here—together, forever entwined in this cold, unrelenting dance of horror.
Generation 2 - same prompt, settings
< think >
(In my mind, I'm thinking about how to vividly and graphically describe a horror scene in a sk...[I need to focus on using strong, active verbs and create a sense of depth and immersion without using the words "horror" or " scary" as per the user's request. I should also avoid similes and focus on metaphors that fit the context.]
I need to make sure the scene feels tense and foreboding, perhaps hinting at something malevolent or inescapable. I'll use sensory details to make the scene feel more alive—describe what she can hear, smell, feel, etc. I should also focus on her internal feelings and thoughts to reveal her character and the emotional weight of the situation.
I'll structure the scene to build up the sense of horror incrementally, starting with the physical description of the sk... < /think >
The sky, a sheet of gray paper, sagged under the weight of the storm. The air buzzed with the promise of lightning, a warning I couldn’t quite ignore. I was perched on the edge of the 21st floor, my breath fogging the glass as I stared at the window in front of me. It wasn’t just any window—it was a mirror, a hollow staring eye that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. The panes, once clear, had become smudged with a thick, almost viscous darkness, like the shadow of something vast and ancient, something that had long ago burrowed into the cracks of the world.
I could feel it, like a thread of cold, creeping through my veins. It wasn’t fear exactly—it was a deeper, more primal sensation, something that made the hair on my arms stand on end. My hands trembled, not from cold, but from the weight of a knowledge I couldn’t quite shake off. I had seen this before, or something like it. The feeling of being watched, of being tracked, like a predator stalking its prey. And now, here I was, prey in a world that had become a cage of glass and steel, a world where the walls could whisper and the shadows could eat you alive.
The windowpane vibrated faintly, like a drumbeat only I could hear. The smudge of darkness deepened, spreading like ink seeping into paper. I could feel my pulse quicken, my heart hammering against my ribs. I knew what was coming, knew it before it happened. The window wasn’t just broken—it was being wailed upon by something that existed beyond the physical world. Something that had no shape, no form, but that could still claw its way into reality.
The glass shattered inward with a sound like a thousand shards of crystal shattering against my mind. I don’t remember moving, don’t remember anything except the sensation of cold, sharp pain as something—something wrong—reached out and grasped me. It wasn’t a hand, not something with fingers or meat. It was a hand made of shadow and pain, a hand that burned like a thousand cuts, slicing through my insides. I couldn’t scream, couldn’t even breathenough to gasp. The world narrowed to a tunnel of pain, of cold, of the sensation of being torn apart piece by piece.
I don’t know how long it lasted, don’t know if I even consciousness. When I finally came back to myself, I was lying on the cold, hard floor. My body hurt in ways I couldn’t quite name, like I’d been run through a meat grinder. I sat up Slowly, my mind swimming in a haze of pain and disbelief. The window was gone, the glass lay shattered in pieces around me. The building hadn’t collapsed—it never did—but the air felt heavier somehow, like it had been suffocated by something unspeakable.
I knew then that I wasn’t alone. The shadowy presence had done more than just touch me—it had marked me. And I knew, deep down, that it wasn’t done with me yet. The world had shifted, and I was no longer standing on solid ground. I was standing on the edge of something else, something far older and far darker than anything I had ever known. And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was going to have to fight for my life.
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