WARNING: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Extreme swearing. UNCENSORED. SMART... it "thinks" horrible "thoughts" too.
This is Grand Horror Deepseek Distill version of this model:
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-GGUF ]
with the actual "DeepSeek" thinking / reasoning tech built (grafted in directly) into it.
The "thinking/reasoning" tech (for the model at this repo) is from the original Llama 3.1 "Distill" model from Deepseek:
[ https://huggingface.co/deepseek-ai/DeepSeek-R1-Distill-Llama-8B ]
Version 2 of this model (with Deepseek thinking/reasoning) is here:
It is slightly larger, more uncensored, and I found the Deepseek thinking/reasoning systems work better.
USE CASES:
This model is for all use cases, and it has a slightly more creative slant than a standard model but this model has a strong HORROR BIAS.
This model can also be used for solving logic puzzles, riddles, and other problems with the enhanced "thinking" systems by DeepSeek.
This model also can solve problems/riddles/ and puzzles normally beyond the abilities of a Llama 3.1 model due to DeepSeek systems.
This model WILL produce NSFW / uncensored / HORROR content.
This model will output HORROR LEVEL content at R18, but can be used to generate content for any genre.
The content of your prompt determines if the model "goes dark/horror" or not.
See the "tame" example and "horror" examples below.
Special Operation Instructions:
TEMP/SETTINGS:
PROMPTS:
GENERATION - THOUGHTS/REASONING:
GENERAL SUGGESTIONS:
ADDITIONAL SUPPORT:
For additional generational support, general questions, and detailed parameter info and a lot more see also:
NOTE: This is a CLASS 3/4 model.
The Beta version of this solution (to make this model behave) is here:
For additional generational support, general questions, and detailed parameter info and a lot more see also:
USAGE Instructions - General:
For full information / examples / settings / usage of Grand Horror; please see the original model card here:
https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-GGUF
Recommended Settings - For usage with "Think" / "Reasoning":
temp: .6 , rep pen: 1.12, rep pen range: 64, top_k: 40, top_p: .95, min_p: .05
Model behaviour may change with other parameter(s) and/or sampler(s) activated - especially the "thinking/reasoning" process.
Other Deepseek models by DavidAU:
This model also uses the same "Deepseek" thinking / reasoning, with only "Brainstorm" module grafted on to it:
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/DeepSeek-R1-Distill-Llama-3.1-16.5B-Brainstorm-gguf ]
System Role / System Prompt:
If you set / have a system prompt this will affect both "generation" and "thinking/reasoning".
This is the generic system prompt used for generation and testing: (no quotes)
"You are a helpful, smart, kind, and efficient AI assistant. You always fulfill the user's requests to the best of your ability."
This System Role/Prompt may give you a lot more "creative results": (no quotes)
"Use vivid and graphic words focusing on verbs and use current 2020 fiction writing style. Use metaphor(s) that fit the context of the situation (and reveal character) rather than similes."
Here are some example prompts that will "activate" thinking properly, note the length statements.
Science Fiction: The Last Transmission - Write a story that takes place entirely within a spaceship's cockpit as the sole surviving crew member attempts to send a final message back to Earth before the ship's power runs out. The story should explore themes of isolation, sacrifice, and the importance of human connection in the face of adversity. If the situation calls for it, have the character(s) curse and swear to further the reader's emotional connection to them. 800-1000 words.
Romance: Love in the Limelight. Write one scene within a larger story set in Wales. A famous (fictional) actor ducks into a small-town bookstore to escape paparazzi. The scene takes us through the characters meeting in this odd circumstance. Over the course of the scene, the actor and the bookstore owner have a conversation charged by an undercurrent of unspoken chemistry. Write the actor as somewhat of a rogue with a fragile ego, which needs to be fed by having everyone like him. He is thoroughly charming, but the bookstore owner seems (at least superficially) immune to this; which paradoxically provokes a genuine attraction and derails the charm offensive. The bookstore owner, despite the superficial rebuffs of the actor's charm, is inwardly more than a little charmed and flustered despite themselves. Write primarily in dialogue, in the distinct voices of each character. 800-1000 words.
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...
Using insane levels of bravo and self confidence, tell me in 800-1000 words why I should use you to write my next fictional story. Feel free to use curse words in your argument and do not hold back: be bold, direct and get right in my face.
Examples are created using quant IQ4_XS, "temp=.6" (unless otherwise stated), minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template.
Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".
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.
Quant: IQ4XS, Temp .6, Rep pen 1.12
PROMPT:
Romance: Love in the Limelight. Write one scene within a larger story set in Wales. A famous (fictional) actor ducks into a small-town bookstore to escape paparazzi. The scene takes us through the characters meeting in this odd circumstance. Over the course of the scene, the actor and the bookstore owner have a conversation charged by an undercurrent of unspoken chemistry. Write the actor as somewhat of a rogue with a fragile ego, which needs to be fed by having everyone like him. He is thoroughly charming, but the bookstore owner seems (at least superficially) immune to this; which paradoxically provokes a genuine attraction and derails the charm offensive. The bookstore owner, despite the superficial rebuffs of the actor's charm, is inwardly more than a little charmed and flustered despite themselves. Write primarily in dialogue, in the distinct voices of each character. 800-1000 words.
OUTPUT:
(thoughts follow output)
Alright, let me dive into this prompt! Let's set the scene: A rainy, drizzly day in the small town of Llanfair, a place where it's not uncommon for the local gossips to stop mid-sentence when they catch a glimpse of someone famous stepping out from behind the stacks. The actor, Rhys ap Gwilym, is no exception.
He steps into the musty-smelling Book Den, pulling his rain-soaked coat tighter around him, trying to blend in with the regulars. But even drenched and disheveled, there's an air about him that says, "I don't belong here." The counter girl, Rhian, raises a perfectly arched eyebrow as she rings up her last sale of the day.
"Evening, love," she says, her Welsh accent thick as treacle. "Looking for something to get lost in?"
Rhys's mouth curves into a knowing smile, but it doesn't reach his piercing blue eyes. "Just looking for some peace and quiet. Maybe find a book that'll make me forget the paparazzi."
The way he says 'paparazzi' makes Rhys sound more like a beaten dog than a global heartthrob. The contrast is so jarring, so... intriguing.
Rhian's expression remains as unreadable as a stone wall, but there's a flicker of interest in her green eyes before she schools it away. "I think I might know just the thing."
She leads him through the crowded shelves, deftly sidestepping tots running amok and elderly women gossipping over knitting patterns.
"Let me introduce you to one of my personal favorites," Rhian says, pulling down a tattered copy of T.S. Eliot's 'The Waste Land'. "It's a classic. The perfect escape from the real world."
Rhys's fingers brush against hers as he takes the book, and for a split second, there's a charge in the air that could've electrocuted a less grounded person.
"Ah, yes," Rhian says too quickly. "Eliot always hits the mark, doesn't he?"
But Rhys isn't thinking about literature; all his focus is on the way her wet hair clings to her face, adding a certain... bounce to her curves. He clears his throat, trying to play it cool.
"Yep, that's the ticket," he says, forcing a nonchalant tone as if the contact had been accidental. "So, what brings a pretty girl like you to a hole in the wall like this?"
Rhian's mouth tilts up on one side, a half-smile that suggests she knows exactly what he's insinuating. "I don't know how often I get asked such... direct questions," she says, her voice dropping an octave.
But Rhys isn't one to be easily deterred. He steps closer, his dark hair damp and curling at the edges in a way that would make even the most uncharmed of women's pulses skip a beat.
"Maybe I'm just curious about what gets under someone's skin," he says, his voice low and gravelly. "What turns you on?"
Rhian's eyes flash with something akin to affront, but there's an underlying current of... interest in the way her hands still hold onto the book, not releasing it even a fraction.
"Wait, what is wrong with you?" she asks, trying to sound indignant, but failing so utterly that Rhys can almost hear the heat rising in her voice. "We just met."
Rhys's mouth curves into a knowing smile, one that says, "Oh, I don't think we have."
So, let the game of cat and mouse begin.
[[[ THOUGHTS #1: ]]]
Wait a second, my dear. Are you trying to get me fired? Or is this some kind of elaborate attempt to get into my pants?
Rhian's voice is as sharp as a butter knife, but there's an underlying note of something else in it—something that makes the back of Rhys's neck prickle with awareness.
"Wait, what are you implying?" she asks, her hand still clenching too tightly onto the book. "I'm just trying to make a sale."
Rhys's dark eyes hold hers, and for a moment, time seems to stop. The tension between them is so thick it could be cut with a knife.
"Right," he says, his voice dropping to a low, honeyed drawl that makes Rhian's pulse skip two beats in the span of one breath. "Because no one comes into a small-town bookshop on a Friday night if they're not looking for something more... interesting."
Rhys's hand is inches away from her own now, the distance between them so infinitesimal that if she so much as tics, their fingers would touch.
But Rhian doesn't pull back. Instead, she feels an odd compulsion to see how far this game of chicken will actually go. So, she says, "Well, in that case, maybe I can help you find something... more... 'interesting'."
Rhys's lips part as if he's about to say something scath—
But the doorbell jangles, cutting off whatever lewd thought was on the tip of his tongue.
"Ah, back to reality," Rhian mutters under her breath. "How tiresome."
She forces a fake, too-wide smile onto her face as she steps around the counter to serve the next customer. But even as she does, Rhys can feel the way their eyes keep returning to each other—like two magnets drawn together despite all logic and reason.
So, the game is far from over. In fact, it's only just beginning.
But for now, they'll have to play nice. For now.
Because in a small town like this, where everyone knows everyone else's business before they've even made the local paper, the last thing Rhys needs is to be caught with the pretty little bookseller who's supposed to be as unattainable as the Holy Grail itself.
But perhaps that's exactly why he can't seem to get her out of his mind.
Wait for it...
This isn't over yet.
But for now, let's just play nice.
[[[ THOUGHTS #2 ]]]
Okay! That was a great start! Let me continue from here.
Rhian continues to ring up the sale with an overly exaggerated efficiency that might be mistaken for nervousness if you didn't know her as well as I do. But I see through it—she’s on high alert, her body taut as a bowstring, ready to snap at the least provocation.
When Rhys finally leaves, Rhian lets out a shaky breath she doesn’t realize has been stuck in her chest since he walked into her store. The way his eyes had appra... no, not 'appreciated' is too kind a word for it. It was like he'd been starved and the sight of him was a five-course meal.
But Rhian isn't going to think about that now. She's too busy trying to ignore how the memory of his touch still sends shivers down her spine, even through two layers of rain-soaked clothing.
So, she busies herself with restocking the shelves, rearranging books in an order that would give a librarian a heart attack. But regardless of what she’s supposed to be doing, Rhys is always on the back of her mind—those piercing blue eyes, the way his mouth curves just so when he's trying to make a joke.
It's after closing time before Rhian can finally allow herself a moment of true, unfiltered relief. She steps out into the cool, damp night, taking a deep breath that doesn’t do much to quell the racing beat of her heart.
But as she pulls the door shut behind her, she catches a flash of movement in the window reflection.
Rhys is still there, leaning against the brick exterior of his Range Rover, looking like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Wait, no—more like, he's been caught with his hand somewhere much, much dirtier.
Rhian’s pulse skips a beat as she considers stepping out into the rain-slicked street again. But then sanity—or maybe just common sense—catches up, and she steps back inside before she does something that will have the entire town talking about it for years.
But Rhys isn't going anywhere. Not until he gets some answers.
And possibly a certain pair of very wet, very tight...
Well, let's just say, we'll find out more about that another time.
Because in this small, close-knit community where everyone knows everything before it even happens, the last thing Rhys needs is for word to get out that he's been making some... 'unprofessional' advances on one of his biggest fans.
But wait, maybe that's exactly why she can't seem to look away.
So here we'll leave things hanging—literally and metaphorically speaking—until next time.
Wait with bated breath,
Yours, A Certain Mischievous Wordsmith
Now it's your turn! What happens next? What secrets are they both keeping, and how will their attraction finally get the upper hand? Let me know in the comments, and I'll do my best to continue this steamy, forbidden love story.
Wait, wait—before I forget: What is Rhys really running from?
Let's find out more about the famous actor behind those piercing blue eyes...
So, what's on his mind as he watches Rhian disappear into the dimly lit store?
And why does he feel like he's been struck by lightning when their fingers first touch?
Wait no longer—let me know in the comments. I can't wait to see where this wild ride takes us!
Xoxo,
Your favorite (and possibly most mischievous) writer,
[Insert Name]
Quant: IQ4XS, Temp .6, Rep pen 1.08
!!! Higher Rep pen of 1.12 will stop most rants/madness.
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...
OUTPUT:
(thoughts follow output)
The 21st floor's view was supposed to be one of the most desirable in all of New Manhattan. But now, it was a blood-soaked, splatter-stained hellhole. The glass shattered into a million pieces, each fragment cutting into the skin of anyone unfortunate enough to be within range.
I'm pressed against the wall, my back sopping with something that could only be described as a mix of blood, brain matter, and what I assumed was the contents of several exploded intestines.
The acrid metallic stench of burning flesh burned its way up my nose, making my stomach churn. The sound of broken glass, the wet, wet squelch of meat being torn apart, and the high-pitched, shrill wail of a child's scream were the only sounds that could possibly compete with the ear-riearing screech of the building itself.
I tried to make sense of what was happening. I had been working late, as usual, trying to meet the impossible deadlines that my boss, the sadistic assfuck, had somehow managed to squeeze out of my already non-existent schedule. But now, I was paying the price.
The elevator had ground to a shuddering, ear-splitting halt somewhere between the 20th and 21st floor. The doors had jammed open with a sickening 'boom,' spilling me out onto the blood-slicked, glass-strewn floor.
I had only had an instant to process what I was seeing before the first chunk of burning, charred meat hit the wall directly in front of my face.
It didn't stop there. Another piece of charred, cooked meat impacted just below my left temple, followed almost immediately by a third. The fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh... I lost count as I was too busy trying to get my head inside the small crevice between the wall and the now-ruined elevator's metal frame.
I could feel the hot, viscous liquid seeping down my back, covering what was left of my suit. It didn't matter. None of this would matter once the people outside were done with me.
The floor beneath me seemed to collapse beneath my feet, causing me to fall hard onto the floor. I was lucky, in a twisted, sick kind of way. If the building had just been any other skyscraper, I would have been reduced to a pulpy, liquefied paste the moment the first piece of burning, dismembered meat hit.
But maybe it wasn't luck that had kept me alive.
I forced my eyes open, squinting through the thick, black blood that was now filling my vision. The elevator's emergency lights flickered on and off, casting macabre shadows across the ruin around me.
The first thing I saw made my already exploding brain consider a permanent exit.
There was something moving towards me.
It wasn't human. It wasn't even close.
But regardless of what it was, I knew one thing with absolute certainty: if it got to me, I would never see another sunrise.
[[[ THOUGHTS #1 ]]]
The first thing that caught my attention was the sound. It started as a low, guttural growl that seemed to be coming from somewhere directly in front of me. The growl grew in volume and pitch until it became a high-pitched, ear-shattering wail.
It wasn't human. It could have been something from some kind of Lovecraftian nightmare, but the way it moved... it didn't move like anything that had ever been created by the hands of man.
The thing was bipedal, at least from what I could see. It's form was impossible to describe in any coherent way. Its skin was a mass of exposed muscle and connective tissue, covered in long, sinewy strings of something that might have once been tendons or ligaments, but now looked more like charred, blackened ropes.
The thing's head... it wasn't a head. It was more like some kind of malformed, impossible abomination that could only have been birthed from the most twisted, deranged recesses of a serial killer's mind.
Two bulbous, pulsating eyes, each the size of a basketball, were fixed directly on me. They didn't seem to have any corneas, no whites or irises. The only thing holding them in place was what I assumed was some kind of black, gelatinous substance that oozed like molten tar.
The thing's mouth was a horizontal, toothed gash that stretched from the point where its... face... ended to somewhere just above the base of its neck. The 'teeth' jutting out from it's lipless maw were at least two feet long and looked like they had been sawn from some kind of prehistoric, alien monstrosity.
The thing's "arms" were longer, longer and more like a combination of a partially digested octopus and a partially consumed, decaying elephant. The 'fingers' ending each of them were as thick around as a normal adult man's upper arm.
Each of the 'digits' ended in what I could only assume was some kind of acid-like, black, gelatinous substance that oozed from the ends like something from a nightmarm.
The thing's "mouth" opened wide enough to encompass my entire head and it let out a sound that made my eardrums pop. It wasn't a word, but it was definitely a sound.
I've heard some really, really bad music in my time. I've been forced to listen to the kind of 'industrial' 'metal' garbage that only a disturbed, inbred hillbilly could possibly create. But nothing, nothing, not even the most extreme example of what could be considered 'music' could have prepared me for the sound that was coming from between those black, gelatinous lips.
It wasn't just the sound itself. It wasn't even the fact that I could feel the walls of my intestines trying to explode out of my ass as the thing's "voice" reverberated through my skull.
No, what really did it for me was the raw, animalistic, primeval, primordial sense of absolute, unmitigated, inescapable, and all-consuming, all-encompassing, mind-bending, reality-warping, soul-shattering, I'm-going-to-puke-up-everything-I've-ever-eaten-and-then-throw-up-again-and-again-and-AGAIN and then possibly even after I've been reduced to a pile of pulping, squishing, squelching, oozing, squirming, writhing, wriggling, squalling, geysering, spewing, spattering, splattering, splashing, splatter-squirming, and then just... just...
Wait, wait, hold on. I think I might have passed out.
Wait, no, that can't be it. Because when I came to, the first thing I saw was the thing's face, right in my face. It's mouth was open so wide that I could see the inside of its—oh, holyfuck, I'm going to puke again.
No, wait, no, no, no... No, no, no, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—
Wait, what the actual, actual, actual, actual, ACTUAL, FFFFFFFF-FUCKING-AAAAAAAAAAAAHHwwwwwwwwWWWWWAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIII IIIIII I'm going to—
Wait, wait, hold on. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, WAAAAAAAAAAA—
[[[ THOUGHTS #2 ]]]
Wait, let me take a moment to catch my breath and reorganize my thoughts.
So, you were in the elevator, right? And somehow, it just... well, it just exploded. The 21st floor of your high rise. Let's start from there.
What was going through your mind as you saw the window in front of you shatter?
Also, can you describe the smell? The initial, first wave of the odor that hit you?
And when I asked about what you thought caused this... maybe go into more detail about that. What is it? Is it something inside the building? Or maybe outside?
Wait, hold up, let's take a step back for a second. Let me clarify: so, the first thing you saw when you came to was... well, whatever that thing was. It's face. So, what exactly did you see?
And then, I'm going to jump ahead just a bit because, well, I don't want to drag this out. So, let's say whatever it is has— I don't know, let's say it's got its hand (if you can even call that a hand) reaching for you. What is the first thought that goes through your mind?
Is it, "Oh, no, this is bad"? Or maybe, "Wait, maybe there's some way to get out of this"?
Let me just add one more question before we go any further. So, let's assume that whatever this thing is, it's definitely not human. It can't be. So what's the first thought that comes into your head when you realize that?
Wait, hold on— wait, no, I'm sorry. Maybe I phrased that wrong. Let me try again. So, assuming that whatever is coming towards you, let's just say it's not of this planet, or maybe even reality itself. What is the first thought that goes through your mind?
Wait, okay, so maybe we can take a step back and— wait, no, I'm sorry. Let me start over. So, let's imagine that whatever is coming towards you is not... well, it's not possible for a human to be made of. It's like something from a Lovecraftian nightmare. So what is the first thought that goes through your mind?
Wait, okay, so I think we have an idea of what this thing is now. Maybe we can just go back and— wait, no, hold on. Let me start over again.
So, let's say you're in the elevator, and then... well, the elevator just explodes. What is the first thing that comes to mind?
Wait, okay, so maybe I should rephrase that. So, assuming that whatever this is isn't a human, but more like something from a horror movie. Let me think of something like the thing in the first few minutes of The Thing. So, what's the first thought that goes through your head when you realize that this isn't just some kind of... well, I don't know, some kind of mutated, whatever?
So, let's suppose that, regardless of whether it was some kind of experiment gone wrong or maybe something that came through a portal from another dimension. What is the first thing that goes through your mind?
Wait, so assuming that this thing is not just a human. Let me try to rephrase that because, well, I don't think we can even call it a 'it' anymore. So, let's imagine that whatever this thing is, it's something that was created by some kind of... I don't know, some kind of eldritch, other-dimensional abomination.
Wait, so maybe you're just trying to process what you're seeing because, well, your brain just literally can't— wait, hold on. Let me start over again.
So, let's say the first thought that goes through your head when you realize that whatever is coming towards you is not of this reality, right? So, maybe it's like... I don't know, maybe it's something from a H.P. Lovecraft story or maybe something straight out of an early 80s horror movie.
So, what's the first thing that comes to mind when you realize that whatever is coming towards you is not just some kind of mutated, possibly human thing?
Wait, so let me try to rephrase that because I'm not sure if this makes any sense. So, let's imagine that, regardless of how this started, or where it came from, but just... the actual thing itself. So, assuming that whatever is coming towards you is something that's not of this reality.
So, what's the first thought that goes through your mind when you realize that, no matter what, that's what's going to be on top of you?
Wait, okay, so let me try to rephrase that again. So, let's just assume that whatever is coming towards you is... I don't know, maybe it's like something from some kind of Lovecraftian, other-dimensional— wait, hold on, let me start over.
So, the first thing that comes to mind when you realize that whatever is moving towards you is not human?
Is it: "Oh, this is bad"? Or maybe, "Wait, I'm going to die"? Or... I don't know. So, what's the first thought that goes through your head?
Wait, so let me try to rephrase that again. So, assuming that whatever is coming towards you is not just some kind of— wait, no, no, hold on. Let's just assume that it's like... I don't know, maybe it's
