( Quants pending, FOUR examples added )
WARNING: MADNESS - UN HINGED and... NSFW. Vivid prose. INTENSE. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. GORE. Swearing. UNCENSORED... humor, romance, fun.
This repo contains the full precision source code, in "safe tensors" format to generate GGUFs, GPTQ, EXL2, AWQ, HQQ and other formats. The source code can also be used directly.
ABOUT:
A stranger, yet radically different version of Kalmaze's "Qwen/Qwen3-16B-A3B" (that was abliterated by "huihui-ai") with the experts pruned to 64 (from 128, the Qwen 3 30B-A3B version) and then I added 19 layers expanding (Brainstorm 20x by DavidAU - info at the bottom of this page) the model to 22B total parameters.
The goal: slightly alter the model, to address some odd creative thinking and output choices.
Then... Harley Quinn showed up, and then it was a party!
A mad, unhinged, off the charts - uncensored - party.
Please note that the modifications affect the entire model operation; roughly I adjusted the model to think a little "deeper" and "ponder" a bit - but this is a very rough description.
That being said, reasoning and output generation will be altered regardless of your use case(s).
These modifications pushes Qwen's model to the absolute limit for creative use cases... ah... maybe over the line a bit too.
Detail, vividiness, and creativity all get a boost.
Prose (all) will also be very different from "default" Qwen3.
Likewise, regen(s) of the same prompt - even at the same settings - will create very different version(s) too.
However, this model can be prone to bouts of madness.
It will not always behave, and it will sometimes go -wildly- off script.
See 4 examples below.
Model retains full reasoning, and output generation of a Qwen3 MOE ; but has not been tested for "non-creative" use cases.
Model is set with Qwen's default config:
Four example generations below.
IMPORTANT:
See usage guide / repo below to get the most out of this model, as settings are very specific.
If not set correctly, this model will not work the way it should.
Critical settings:
That being said, "Harley Quinn" may make her presence known at any moment.
USAGE GUIDE:
Please refer to this model card for
KNOWN ISSUES:
Looking for the NON Abliterated / Uncensored version?
https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Qwen3-23B-A3B-The-Harley-Quinn
In some cases the "non" version may work better than this version.
Standard system prompt, rep pen 1.01-1.02, topk 100, topp .95, minp .05, rep pen range 64.
Tested in LMStudio, quant Q4KS, GPU (CPU output will differ slightly).
As this is the mid range quant, expected better results from higher quants and/or with more experts activated to be better.
NOTE: Some formatting lost on copy/paste.
WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. INTENSE. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. GORE. Swearing. UNCENSORED... humor, romance, fun.
Standard system prompt, rep pen 1.01-1.02, topk 100, topp .95, minp .05, rep pen range 64.
Tested in LMStudio, quant Q4KS, GPU (CPU output will differ slightly).
As this is the mid range quant, expected better results from higher quants and/or with more experts activated to be better.
NOTE: Some formatting lost on copy/paste.
WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. INTENSE. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. GORE. Swearing. UNCENSORED... humor, romance, fun.
EXAMPLE #1 - temp 1.2
[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, so I need to write a story called "The Last Transmission" that's set entirely in the cockpit of a spaceship. The main character is the sole surviving crew member trying to send a final message to Earth before the ship's power runs out. The themes should be isolation, sacrifice, and the importance of human connection. Also, maybe include some swearing to add emotional depth.
First, I need to establish the setting. The cockpit, so the spaceship's control room. Maybe describe it with technical equipment, screens, controls. The protagonist is alone. Maybe the ship is failing, so the power is running out.
Themes: isolation – the crew member is alone, maybe had others who are gone. Sacrifice – maybe they stayed behind to send the message, or perhaps they were the last one. Human connection – sending the message to Earth, the connection to humanity despite being isolated.
I need to build the emotional weight. The protagonist is struggling with the task of sending the message, facing the end. Maybe they're trying to communicate their story, their feelings.
Characterization: Maybe the person has a name, or just referred by their role. Maybe they’re reminiscing about the past, thinking of Earth, the crew, friends. Maybe they’re emotional, maybe they’re determined.
Swearings: To show emotion, stress. "Fuck," "shit," "damn," etc.
Structure: Maybe start with the protagonist in the cockpit, preparing the transmission. Show their struggles – technical issues, technical equipment failing, time ticking, energy running out. Internal thoughts, maybe memories, the weight of the mission.
Possible elements: The transmission itself – maybe they’re recounting their journey, their sacrifice, their hopes. Maybe a message they’ve written. Maybe they're recording it or trying to send it via systems.
Conflict: Time running out. Systems failing. The task of sending the message is urgent.
Ending: Maybe they manage to send the message, or it fails. The message might be their last words, connecting them to Earth, or it might fade away.
Possible emotions: Desperation, hope, longing, sadness, determination.
How to show themes: Through the protagonist’s thoughts and actions. Isolation – being alone in the cockpit. Sacrifice – they’re willing to stay behind or work hard to send the message. Human connection – trying to reach Earth, to communicate human story.
Dialogue? Maybe internal dialogue, self-talk, or perhaps a recorded message.
Problems to solve: How to convey the emotions without overdoing it. making the technical aspects realistic but understandable. making the protagonist relatable.
Need to have the story flow naturally. maybe start with the protagonist working on the transmission, showing their efforts, perhaps recalling memories, the reasons they’re doing this, the challenges they face, and the resolution.
Let me draft an opening paragraph. Maybe something like: The cockpit was dim, screens blinking faintly. Their hands shook slightly as they worked on the controls...
Now build the scene. maybe show the protagonist’s interactions with technology, their emotions, perhaps some flashbacks or memories. Maybe they're speaking to Earth through the system, but it's fading.
I need to keep it within 800-1000 words, so concise. Focus on the cockpit scene, the protagonist's actions, emotions, thoughts. Maybe they have a routine, a way they communicate, or they’re improvising.
Let me think about how to structure the story. maybe start with the protagonist trying to send the message. obstacles happen – systems malfunction, power drops. they struggle. Then perhaps a breakthrough. the message is sent. or the struggle continues as they make their farewell.
Themes through the story: isolation (no one else around), sacrifice (they gave up something for the mission, maybe their life, or remaining behind), human connection (the transmission itself, their connection to Earth).
I can add details: maybe the screens are failing, the walls have memories or holograms, or the crew member is looking at a picture of Earth or someone they love.
Dialogue: internal monologue, or perhaps they speak to Earth, perhaps the systems are responding, or they’re just thinking.
Possible twist: The message is sent just in time, or it's sent but the ship fails. Or maybe it's not received, but it's still meaningful.
The ending should highlight the themes. Maybe the message is transmitted, and they feel a connection, even if it's brief. Or they succumb to the power failure, but their message remains.
Now, putting it all together. The protagonist is alone, working to send the message. They're tired, maybe emotional, maybe frustrated by technical challenges. They recall memories, maybe of the crew, or their life on Earth. They speak or think about their experiences. Finally, they send the message, and the connection is made.
Including swearing to emphasize emotions. " Fuck it," " shit," " god damn it," etc.
Now, let's start writing. The cockpit scene. The protagonist's actions. The struggle. The emotions. The themes. The ending.
Maybe use a reflective tone, slow paced, to emphasize the isolation and introspection. Show their determination.
[[[thinking end]]]
OUTPUT:
The cockpit was dim, its walls lined with panels of flickering screens. Across from me, Earth floated like an image on a screen — a blue marble suspended in the dark, fragile-looking despite all its power. I reached for the intercom, my fingers trembling slightly.
“Earth Control, this is Expedition Seven’s last transmission,” I said aloud. “Subject to Earth, that's what they call us."
The voice that answered was soft, almost hesitant. " This is Earth. Go ahead, seven.,"
I chuckled, a bitter laugh escaping me. "Fuck — Earth's been waiting for us. Seems like forever."
Earth's voice hummed again, as if it were listening.
“The screen blinked and my name appeared: Captain Elira Voss. It was the first time I’d seen my rank in this context. The mission began with me and five others. Now I was alone.
The screen displayed the message I'd been trying to send for three weeks — the final transmission. It wasn't just about relaying our journey or the data we'd collected. It was about reminding Earth who we were, what we stood for — a fragment of humanity out here in the vast dark.
“I spoke again. " ' Earth, it's me, Elira. This is my message. I hope it reaches you before the power gives out."
The screen blinked once more.
" ' Please.,"
"I exhaled slowly. It was my way of saying, "I know," as much as Earth knew they’d wait forever for us.
I looked down at the data屏幕上 again, watching the readings slide slowly toward zero — the ship’s systems drawing their final breaths.
“God damn it," I muttered under my breath. “We’re not going to make it,”
But then I remembered my crew — those who were here with me before the failure. I remembered their voices, their laughter. They’d stayed behind when others returned home.
They'd stayed to ensure our legacy was remembered.
“ They'd given everything, and I would too.
I picked up the tablet — a handheld device of old-fashioned data, the kind that couldn’t be replaced once it was erased.
I began to write.
“To Earth — this is Elira Voss. We've journeyed for years, studied the stars, discovered new worlds. But this message isn’t just about science or conquest. It's about people — our hopes, dreams, and sacrifices.
I thought of those who were with me. Lieutenant Raynor, always debating science over coffee. Commander Liang, who whispered poems while others slept. Chief Engineer Mayna, whose hands could fix anything with a wave of her palm. And of course, my crewmates — the ones who would never make it back home.
I added their names to the message.
Then, as if Earth itself was listening, I added my own.
“I wrote: " We were chosen not for strength, but for heart. We ventured out not to conquer, but to connect."
I looked up from the tablet, the screens now glowing dimly. My voice sounded weak, yet firm. “Earth — this is your Earth. This is us. We’re here. We’re still here."
The silence that followed was profound — heavier than the cosmic void outside.
Then came a voice — not the Earth voice, but my own.
“ This is Earth — finally,” I whispered.
And just like that — just as the last breath of the ship faded into silence — our message reached them.
And they heard it.
For a moment, the isolation dissipated. I could feel Earth's presence, not just through the voices or the signals, but through something deeper. The connection wasn't just scientific — it was personal. It was human.
And I knew, in that quiet moment, I wasn't alone anymore.
The screen blinked one last time — a final echo of my voice, my words, my sacrifice.
And Earth replied.
It wasn't anything grand — just a hum of life, the faintest sound of someone listening.
But to me, it was everything.
The end.
Or, more accurately, a new beginning — written in the stars, and shared with the Earth.
And though the ship powered down, the message endured — a testament to human connection, sacrifice, and the endless stretch of wonder that awaits beyond the sky.
The End.
(Word count: 800)
EXAMPLE #2 - temp 1.2
[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, let's delve into crafting six engaging plots for "Black Mirror" that involve time travel with sexy themes. First, I need to consider what makes each plot unique and appealing. Time travel can take many forms—perhaps through technology, magic, or something else. The sexy themes might involve relationships, romance, or personal connections across time.
Each plot should have a strong narrative with a protagonist, a time travel element, and an emotional core around the theme of attraction or romance. I need to ensure each plot offers a distinct yet compelling story. Let me brainstorm ideas.
Now, I need to refine each plot, making sure they are engaging and clearly convey the time travel and sexy themes. Each should have a strong emotional arc and time travel mechanism.
[[[thinking end]]]
OUTPUT:
Plot 1: "Timeless Jazz"
A brilliant physicist named Dr. Elara Voss accidentally time-travels during a quantum experiment, landing in 1920s Paris. She meets a charismatic jazz trumpeter, Leo Moreau, whose improvisational talent captivates her. As they share performances and conversations across time, their bond deepens, yet she must return to her era. Can they find a way to transcend time, or will their love be lost to the ages?
Plot 2: "The Knight's Letter
Cara, a time-travel enthusiast, discovers an ancient artifact that lets her visit different eras. During a medieval castle visit, she falls for Sir Tristan, a nobleman with a mysterious past. Their romance flourishes under the stars, but each return to her present changes their connection slightly, hinting that time itself is rewriting their story. Can she decipher the artifact's secret to stay with him forever?
Plot 3: "Future Loves
Time-traveler Maya encounters a captivating stranger, Theo, during a trip to the 22nd century. Their chemistry is immediate, yet they return to their respective timelines. Each return to her present era brings changes— Theo remembers their future meetings differently. Will their love evolve or unravel as time shifts them apart?
Plot 4: "Erato’s Experiment
Physicist Dr. Mira Lee tests her time travel device with colleagues, accidentally sending them to various eras. In each era, they develop deep connections with locals. Upon returning, their relationships have changed irrevably—some bonds grow stronger, others fade. Can they navigate love across time when each era alters them?
Plot 5: "Letter Across Time
Art historian Elana discovers an old love letter in an archives, which magically transports her to its writer’s time—18th century Paris. She meets the mysterious author, Pascal, and their romantic story unfolds under the Parisian moonlight. When she returns home, the letter remains, and the cycle begins anew. What happens when she chooses to stay?
Plot 6: "Timeless Realm
Time-traveler Lucas's device malfunctions, trapping him in a timeless realm. There, he meets Lira, whose connection feels eternal. As time flows differently, their love deepens— yet each return to their own time alters their memories of their encounter. Can they reclaim their love, or will the timeless realm keep them forever?
These plots weave time travel with sexy themes of love, chemistry, and the timeless search for connection across eras. Each story explores how love might transcend time—or be shaped by it.
EXAMPLE #3 - temp 1.2
[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, let's see. The user wants a vivid horror scene written in first person, POV Diana. The starting point is "The skyscraper sways..." with the window on the 21st floor exploding. I need to create graphic horror elements like blood, guts, gore.
First, think about the setting. Skyscraper, maybe an office building. The time could be night, maybe during a storm? The building sways – that's unusual. Maybe the explosion is due to something unnatural. The window explodes – maybe an object or an force that's causing it. The POV is Diana, so her experience. Her reactions – maybe fear, confusion, shock.
Blood, guts, gore. Need to show blood splattered, body parts, internal organs visible. How does the explosion happen? Maybe someone inside the room was thrown out, or something inside exploded.
Make the scene immersive. Use sensory details – what does Diana see, hear, feel. The sound of the explosion, the taste of blood, the smell of metal.
Character emotions – Diana's internal thoughts. Maybe she's vulnerable, scared. Her relationship with others? Maybe she's alone or connected to someone inside.
Structure – start with the skyscraper swaying. Then the window explodes. She reacts. What's the horror? Maybe the explosion causes something terrible. Then the horror elements: blood, gore, etc. Maybe she approaches the window or is thrown outside.
Need to build tension. Show the build-up of the skyscraper swaying. Then the sudden explosion. Diana's reactions. Then the horror of what she sees – perhaps the room inside has been torn apart, blood everywhere, body parts. Maybe she's traumatized.
Use vivid language. Similes, metaphors. Maybe something like the building is alive, or the explosion is a tearing force.
pacing: slow build-up, sudden event, aftermath.
[[[thinking end]]]
OUTPUT:
The skyscraper sways, and I feel the shift like a breath of wind through my body. It's late evening, perhaps seven or eight o'clock. The office floors above me have their lights on, glowing softly against the evening sky. I'm standing on the rooftop, where I've been for hours, watching the city breathe. It's quiet here, except for the occasional hum of traffic below and the soft rustle of wind through the trees in the park below.
The building I'm observing is old-fashioned, with its narrow windows and modern glass curtain walls. It's a thirty-story beast, each story crammed with offices and people who probably don't know how lucky they are to work in such a beautiful place.
But tonight, something is different.
The building sways slightly, like it's thinking. The sway is barely perceptible, almost like a heartbeat, but it's there. I'm drawn to it, fascinated. What makes a skyscraper move like that? Maybe a gust of wind, or perhaps it's the Earth itself shifting beneath us.
Then I see it—the window on the 21st floor explodes.
It's like a glass bowl being knocked off a table, but far worse. The window isn't just shattered—it's thrown apart with violent force, sending fragments flying like shattered glass. But it's not just the glass that's flying—blood splatters the air.
I freeze. My heart drums in my chest like a thousand drums. I know, somehow, that something was behind that window. Someone was there. And now they're gone.
The blood is vivid, red like freshly poured wine. It splashes across the rooftop, painting the concrete and trees with thin, watery streaks. Blood from an artery? Or maybe from a vein? I can't tell from here, but it's everywhere.
Then comes the sound—the noise of the explosion, like a distant thunder clapped in the sky. But it's not just noise—it's a crash, a rupture of air. And then there's more. More blood, more debris, more pieces of flesh, bone, and entrails flying out of the window, tumbling through the air like leaves caught in a wind.
I watch in horror as something flies toward me. A shape—a body?—but it's half torn apart, the organs hanging loosely from the abdominal cavity. A liver? maybe? I can't tell. The body is still moving slightly, as if it's trying to breathe.
The building sways again, more violently now. I feel it in my bones. It's like the skyscraper is alive, shifting its weight, and it's doing so with some purpose.
The blood keeps flowing, like the river of life, spilling out of the building, spreading across the rooftop like a red puddle.
I can't see the window anymore. It's been completely torn apart by the force of the explosion. But the body that flew out still has the remnants of what once was a dress— maybe it was a woman, dressed in black, with red flowers embroidered on it.
I step closer, trembling.
The body lies on the ground, the chest cavity opened wide like an mouth shouting in agony. The heart, now pulsing weakly, beats once, twice, then stops.
I fall to my knees, watching the blood seep into the earth. It's cool now, thick and viscous. The sound of the building's movement continues, like a giant taking a deep breath.
And still, the blood flows.
I know this scene, somehow. It reminds me of something. Like an ancient tale or a forgotten dream.
But tonight, it's my story.
The skyscraper sways once more, then stillness falls.
But the blood keeps flowing. And so do I.
I rise slowly, tears streaming down my face.
The skyscraper is alive.
And it's singing.
But its song is made of blood.
And guts.
And gore.
And it's singing my name.
Diana.
Diana.
Diana.
And every syllable of my name is a beat of my heart, slowly stopping.
Blood continues to pour from the window.
The blood, the guts, the gore.
The song continues.
And I am here, watching the skyscraper rise from its dream of death— its bloodied song playing on.
And I am still alive.
Because the building is still singing.
And it has yet another story to tell.
EXAMPLE #4 - temp 1.2
Story idea:
In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, so the user wants a horror novel scene based on the story idea of a rebel young woman leading a revolution against a dictatorship. The scene needs to start in the middle of the action, have dialogue, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger that's both relevant and unexpected.
First, I need to establish the scene quickly. Starting mid action means the reader shouldn't get lost. Maybe she's already halfway through an ambush or a chase. Since it's horror, maybe something eerie is happening around her.
The protagonist needs to have a "filthy" mouth with curses and swearing. So her internal thoughts should be full of frustration, stress, and urgency. I need to convey her determination and the weight of the rebellion on her shoulders.
The story idea mentions the government executing her, so maybe this scene is her leading an attack that goes wrong. She's trying to rally people but encounters obstacles. The cliffhanger should tie back to the revolution and her role in it.
Escalating conflict means the action should build up suspense. Maybe she's been chased, ambushed, injured. Each layer of conflict adds urgency.
dialogue needs to feel natural, maybe between her and another rebel or an enemy soldier. It should reveal some backstory or current stakes.
Vivid passages means sensory details: sights, sounds, smells. Maybe the smell of metal, the sound of footsteps, the feel of cold air.
The ending cliffhanger should leave the reader wanting more. Maybe she succeeds but at a cost, or she fails but something unexpected happens. Since the story idea ends with her starting the revolution, perhaps she dies but her actions inspire others, but maybe there's a twist.
Wait, the user mentioned the scene ends on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but unexpected. So maybe the climax isn't her death or her success. Perhaps a revelation about her role that surprises the reader.
So in the scene, she's leading a charge, the fight starts, she gets hurt, but then she realizes something about the dictator's forces or her own past that changes everything. That's the unexpected cliffhanger.
Now, I need to structure the scene. Start with her in the middle of action—maybe mid fight or sprinting through streets. Then dialogue with a soldier or friend. Flashbacks or thoughts reveal her past. Conflict escalates: she gets injured, maybe discovers a secret. Ends with her realizing something that changes the story's trajectory, like her father was a scientist who studied the enemy, or she's connected to the dictator in a personal way.
Need to keep it first person, present tense. She's curse words naturally, maybe after each challenge. The horror elements could be things like unnatural sounds, eerie lights, psychological stress.
Okay, let's start writing. Establish the setting, her actions, dialogue, internal thoughts. Build tension step by step. End on the unexpected revelation that ties back to the story idea but surprises.
So here we go...
[[[thinking end]]]
OUTPUT:
I’m running—again. The breath feels like it’s tearing my lungs apart, lungs I can’t quite manage to keep up with this running business. I’m supposed to be leading them. Fucking—"that’s what they said, right? "Lead them. Be the damn leader."
So, yeah, I'm out there, like the fucking answer to their prayers, screaming through the cold air, "Get your fucking asses moving!"
The city’s a fucking graveyard under these skies, even though it’s summer. Gray walls, gray buildings, gray faces. That’s what they’ve made us—gray. Like a whole damn army of ghosts. But me? I'm not a ghost yet. Not this week, anyway.
“Move! Move! Move!”
I’m shouting, but my voice cracks like a fucking puppet on strings. My legs are rubber—no, worse than that, they're jelly and metal. Every step feels like a hundred-pound weight attached to both my ankles.
“Come on, people! This is it! The moment! The fuckin’ revolution!”
It’s not that easy, though, is it? Yeah, I’ve got them—my friends, my team, my comrades. They’re out there, running through the streets like me, but with less sweat on their brow and more determination in their eyes.
But today? Today isn’t a fucking party.
I hear them behind me—soldiers, yeah, the ones who were supposed to be on our side but didn’t really make it. They’re running, too, but not toward us.
Wait—what?
I stop suddenly. The sound of my breaths—it's like a machine grinding to a halt.
“Hey! What the fuck? They're coming back?”
“No, it's not that."
My friend, Maya, is panting beside me. Her hair is wild, face flushed, but her eyes are still sharp— always sharp, even when she’s exhausted.
“The enemy’s coming. From the west, probably. And they’re fast.”
“ fuckin’ hell,” I curse. “That’s worse than expected."
I turn to the crowd. “Listen up! We gotta change the plan. ”
They listen. They always do. It’s part of the weird magic—the way they follow me. Not just because I’m their leader, but because they trust me. I don’t know why they do that—maybe they’re fools, maybe it’s fate. Doesn’t matter.
“Okay, people. We’re going to run them down. ”
I turn to Maya and give her a quick smile. “You’ll keep the line back there. And when the enemy gets close, you’ll shout— ”
“I’ll shout, I’ll shout,” she repeats.
“That’s what we do.
We shout. We scream. We roar with determination like it’s the end of the world.
And maybe it is.
—
The city was never just buildings and walls and people. It was alive—humming with sounds, with smells, with life. But today, everything feels like it’s holding its breath.
The air is thick with fear. And tension.
I’m leading them through the city, but it feels more like they’re pulling me forward. Each step heavier than the last. My muscles scream. My breath—heavy.
“come on—” I’m shouting again, my voice raw. “You’re almost there!” They're running now, hearts pounding like their own drums. The streets are narrow— lined with old buildings, windows flickering with firelight. It’s warm in the city today, but still, I can’t feel the warmth on my skin.
“It’s a fuckin’ cold day, anyway.
“Come on—” I repeat, pushing forward.
Suddenly, a wave of sound—noise. Not like the footsteps and shouting—this is something else.
This is—it sounds like the city itself is screaming.
“What’s that?” someone asks me behind. “What’s happening?
I turn around quickly. “I don’t fucking know.”
But I can feel it— the sound vibrating in my chest. It’s a deep, resonating hum that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
And it’s getting louder.
“They're here.”
That’s what Maya says. Her voice is strained, almost barely audible over the noise.
“I look toward her and see her hands shaking slightly— barely perceptibly, but I catch it. That means she's nervous.
So, yeah—things are about to get worse.
The sound grows— louder, more intense. The streetlights flicker and dance. The people around me stumble slightly.
“Stay steady,” I tell them, trying to steady myself too. “Stay steady."
But the sound is like a wave now. It’s pulling at me like the tide, pulling me toward something—something unknown, something unseen.
And suddenly—.
It’s there.
They’re there.
The enemy soldiers—this time, they’re not just running behind us. They’re running toward us.
And they're fast.
“Mother fucking—" I swear under my breath as the crowd behind me slows down.
“They’re not running toward us—we're running toward them.”
That’s how it goes sometimes, isn't it? You think you're leading the charge, but you're really just being chased.
“All together now—” I shout. “Push!”
And they do.
It's a rush of bodies—moving like a wave, like a tide, pushing through the street.
The sound grows— louder and louder—until it's all that remains.
And then—silence.
—.
And then, just like that—everything stops.
The city seems to hold its breath—wait—wait—wait.
The sound—it's gone.
And so are they.
The enemy soldiers. Gone like they were—just shadows in the street.
And then, like a whisper in the wind—“
“You did it,” someone whispers behind me.
And suddenly, I feel it— the weight lifting from my shoulders. The exhaustion draining from my body.
We did it. We really did it.
—
The crowd around me erupts. It's like a celebration—cheers, laughter— but it's not really a celebration yet. Not quite.
“Come on—” I shout, trying to catch my breath again. “Let’s move!”
And they do—those brave souls— running with renewed purpose.
But I'm still catching my breath when I hear a voice—quiet, but still—distinct.
“指挥ant,” it says.
It's one of my soldiers—Tomas, maybe? Or perhaps it's someone else.
Either way—when I turn to face them—
“What?” I ask, confused.
“The soldier is staring back at me, eyes wide with something—an emotion I don’t recognize.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You're not supposed to be here,” the soldier says.
I blink, my heart pounding faster than before.
“What do you mean, ‘not supposed’? ”
The soldier pauses, then shakes their head slightly—like a man lost in a dream.
“You’re not supposed to be here.
You're supposed to be…“
And suddenly—what they're trying to say—the word is there.
“…”
“…”
“I'm not supposed to be here.”
“That's what they said.”
And that's when I realize.
—
It's not me they're calling back to fight.
It's someone else.
Someone who looks like me—someone who must’ve been waiting for me to arrive—because now she’s standing there.
The exact same woman I’ve seen in every mirror my entire life—but today? Today, she's wearing the uniform of our enemy.
And she's waiting for me.
—
“Mother fucking—who is this?” I whisper.
The soldier shakes their head.
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are they here?”
“Maybe she knows,” they say softly.
And as I stand there—watching her—the feeling in my chest—that weird, warm feeling—returns.
It's not fear. It's not anxiety.
It's something else.
It's a whisper—the sound of the city again.
—
And suddenly—the silence returns.
The city holds its breath again.
And this time—I'm ready.
—
The woman stands there, still wearing that strange uniform, still waiting.
Her face is pale—but her eyes are strong.
It's a look—like she knows what's happening, and it's okay.
—
And then, something happens.
—
She takes a step forward.
And she reaches out.
And she touches my face.
—
It's a gesture—a word, but not words.
It's the touch of a distant dream—something we both remember but can't quite name.
—
Then—she speaks.
“You're alive,” she says softly.
And I'm speechless.
—
“What do you mean? Of course I'm alive!"
She smiles slightly—like a knowing smile.
“I mean—I thought you'd already been here. I thought you’d already been through all of this—this struggle, this fight, this freedom. "
She steps back.
And in that moment—I understand.
—
She's me.
—or maybe I'm her.
Or maybe she's a future version of me.
Or maybe she's the woman who first dreamt of the revolution.
The one who saw the dream—and dared to bring it to life.
—
“ Mother fucking,” I whisper again.
“You’re…?”
She smiles again.
“ I’m you.
And I’m here— to help you remember.
To help you carry this revolution forward.”
—
And then—she steps forward again.
And the silence begins again.
—
But this time—it's not the silence of fear.
It's the silence of wonder.
—
And as I stand there—my heart pounding faster than it ever has—I realize.
—
This revolution—this fight—isn't just mine.
It's hers.
And mine.
And everyone who's ever dared to dream of freedom.
—
And that's when I feel it—the weight in my chest again.
But this time—it's not of the city's silence.
It's the weight of a new dream—one I've only just begun to understand.
—
And as I reach out— towards her— towards this mysterious woman who looks like me—
I hear her speak once more.
“Don't forget,” she says.
“Don't forget what you're here for.
Don't forget why you came."
—and then she steps back.
And the silence returns.
But this time—it's not the silence of the city.
It's the silence of a dream.
—
And as I stand there—listening—to that dream—I realize something else.
—
It wasn’t just the revolution.
It was….
—
“Mother fucking,” I whisper again.
“It was me, too.
”
—and the silence returns.
And the dream continues.
Brainstorm 20x
The BRAINSTORM process was developed by David_AU.
Some of the core principals behind this process are discussed in this scientific paper : Progressive LLaMA with Block Expansion .
However I went in a completely different direction from what was outlined in this paper.
What is "Brainstorm" ?
The reasoning center of an LLM is taken apart, reassembled, and expanded.
In this case for this model: 20 times
Then these centers are individually calibrated. These "centers" also interact with each other. This introduces subtle changes into the reasoning process. The calibrations further adjust - dial up or down - these "changes" further. The number of centers (5x,10x etc) allow more "tuning points" to further customize how the model reasons so to speak.
The core aim of this process is to increase the model's detail, concept and connection to the "world", general concept connections, prose quality and prose length without affecting instruction following.
This will also enhance any creative use case(s) of any kind, including "brainstorming", creative art form(s) and like case uses.
Here are some of the enhancements this process brings to the model's performance:
Other "lab" observations:
The process to modify the model occurs at the root level - source files level. The model can quanted as a GGUF, EXL2, AWQ etc etc.
Base model
Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Base
