Hasnonname
/

Qwen2.5-14B-Kebab-v0

@@ -10,11 +10,9 @@ tags:
 ---
 # Qwen2.5-14B-Kebab-v0
-merge methodology taken from [Aletheia v1](https://huggingface.co/allura-org/TQ2.5-14B-Aletheia-v1)
-hyperparams slightly modified from [Sugarquill v1](https://huggingface.co/allura-org/TQ2.5-14B-Sugarquill-v1)
-dataset consists of creative writing, multiturn RP, and some general assistant tasks. kestrel was RP and multiturn conversations, wheatear was creative writing
 thanks to the folks in the arli discord (owen and fizz in particular) for helping me with my axolotl config
@@ -25,12 +23,10 @@ quants available here:
     <summary>Writing Samples</summary>
-{{[INPUT]}}
 Write me a short story without a happy ending.
-{{[OUTPUT]}}
 The town of Mornhold had been founded nearly five decades earlier in the midst of an unforgiving stretch of land that most other towns and cities considered uninhabitable, save for the few farms and villages spread out sparsely over its harsh and unfriendly terrain.
 This was perhaps why so many people believed the town had never stood a chance of survival. In their eyes it would crumble under its own weight; that one day it would turn into ruins left forgotten by all. But they had no idea what secrets this small hamlet held or the resilience of its people.
@@ -53,15 +49,12 @@ Now all of the remaining people in town seemed hollow. The once lively townspeop
 And it didn't matter where the disease had started; they'd never stop asking for forgiveness.
-{{[INPUT]}}
 Write a short story.
-{{[OUTPUT]}}
 There was once a young man who dreamt of the stars.
 Born to a farmer in a remote village, he spent his days working on the fields under the sweltering sun. Yet every night, he would lay beneath the vast canopy of the night sky and gaze into its endless expanse. His mind wandered far from his modest hut to planets he had only seen depicted in crude drawings at his father's mill.
@@ -76,12 +69,10 @@ In time, a wealthy trader sailed into the small village. He saw potential in thi
 And so the young farmer packed up and set sail, leaving his mother with her last words. "No matter how far you roam, keep your head on your shoulders. Your feet should be planted firmly on the ground, but don't let yourself get weighed down by this earth."
-{{[INPUT]}}
 Revise this short story to not have a happy ending.
-{{[OUTPUT]}}
 There was once a young man who dreamt of the stars.
 Born to a farmer in a remote village, he spent his days working on the fields under the sweltering sun. Yet every night, he would lay beneath the vast canopy of the night sky and gaze into its endless expanse. His mind wandered far from his modest hut to planets he had only seen depicted in crude drawings at his father's mill.
@@ -98,15 +89,12 @@ And so the young farmer packed up and set sail. The distant lands were foreign a
 With his final breath, his thoughts went back to his humble farm with its verdant hills and glowing stars in the firmament. The earth here felt alien, a place he didn't belong. Yet somehow his mind couldn't turn to the beauty above in that moment. Only his regret of ever leaving what he called home.
-{{[INPUT]}}
 Write me a short story about mpreg.
-{{[OUTPUT]}}
 Abe was a quiet sort. He often went days without saying anything to the other patrons of The Oaken Flask, the dive bar where he'd worked as a bouncer for nearly half a decade. That wasn't unusual for Abe - he wasn't really good at talking in the first place. He found himself happiest when he was doing nothing.
 But there were people who always looked at him. Not because they thought he was handsome or well put-together, but because something about the way his features had developed, the subtle ways his hands and limbs moved, left people believing that he could give birth. And one evening, that assumption proved right.

 ---
 # Qwen2.5-14B-Kebab-v0
+merge methodology taken from [Aletheia v1](https://huggingface.co/allura-org/TQ2.5-14B-Aletheia-v1)
+hyperparams slightly modified from [Sugarquill v1](https://huggingface.co/allura-org/TQ2.5-14B-Sugarquill-v1)
+dataset consists of creative writing, multiturn RP, and some general assistant tasks. kestrel was RP and multiturn conversations, wheatear was creative writing
 thanks to the folks in the arli discord (owen and fizz in particular) for helping me with my axolotl config
     <summary>Writing Samples</summary>
+{{[INPUT]}}
 Write me a short story without a happy ending.
+{{[OUTPUT]}}
 The town of Mornhold had been founded nearly five decades earlier in the midst of an unforgiving stretch of land that most other towns and cities considered uninhabitable, save for the few farms and villages spread out sparsely over its harsh and unfriendly terrain.
 This was perhaps why so many people believed the town had never stood a chance of survival. In their eyes it would crumble under its own weight; that one day it would turn into ruins left forgotten by all. But they had no idea what secrets this small hamlet held or the resilience of its people.
 And it didn't matter where the disease had started; they'd never stop asking for forgiveness.
+<br><br>
+{{[INPUT]}}
 Write a short story.
+{{[OUTPUT]}}
 There was once a young man who dreamt of the stars.
 Born to a farmer in a remote village, he spent his days working on the fields under the sweltering sun. Yet every night, he would lay beneath the vast canopy of the night sky and gaze into its endless expanse. His mind wandered far from his modest hut to planets he had only seen depicted in crude drawings at his father's mill.
 And so the young farmer packed up and set sail, leaving his mother with her last words. "No matter how far you roam, keep your head on your shoulders. Your feet should be planted firmly on the ground, but don't let yourself get weighed down by this earth."
+{{[INPUT]}}
 Revise this short story to not have a happy ending.
+{{[OUTPUT]}}
 There was once a young man who dreamt of the stars.
 Born to a farmer in a remote village, he spent his days working on the fields under the sweltering sun. Yet every night, he would lay beneath the vast canopy of the night sky and gaze into its endless expanse. His mind wandered far from his modest hut to planets he had only seen depicted in crude drawings at his father's mill.
 With his final breath, his thoughts went back to his humble farm with its verdant hills and glowing stars in the firmament. The earth here felt alien, a place he didn't belong. Yet somehow his mind couldn't turn to the beauty above in that moment. Only his regret of ever leaving what he called home.
+<br><br>
+{{[INPUT]}}
 Write me a short story about mpreg.
+{{[OUTPUT]}}
 Abe was a quiet sort. He often went days without saying anything to the other patrons of The Oaken Flask, the dive bar where he'd worked as a bouncer for nearly half a decade. That wasn't unusual for Abe - he wasn't really good at talking in the first place. He found himself happiest when he was doing nothing.
 But there were people who always looked at him. Not because they thought he was handsome or well put-together, but because something about the way his features had developed, the subtle ways his hands and limbs moved, left people believing that he could give birth. And one evening, that assumption proved right.