gguf creative creative writing fiction writing plot generation sub-plot generation story generation scene continue storytelling fiction story science fiction romance all genres story writing vivid prosing vivid writing fiction roleplaying bfloat16 swearing rp 128k context horror llama 3.1 mergekit text-generation en license:apache-2.0 endpoints_compatible region:us conversational
---
language:
- en
license: apache-2.0
pipeline_tag: text-generation
tags:
- creative
- creative writing
- fiction writing
- plot generation
- sub-plot generation
- story generation
- scene continue
- storytelling
- fiction story
- science fiction
- romance
- all genres
- story
- writing
- vivid prosing
- vivid writing
- fiction
- roleplaying
- bfloat16
- swearing
- rp
- 128k context
- horror
- llama 3.1
- mergekit
---

<B><font color="red">WARNING:</font> NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED. </B>

<h2>L3.1-Dark-Planet-10.7B-ExxxxxxxxTended-GGUF</h2>

<img src="dark-planet-ex.jpg" style="float:right; width:300px; height:300px; padding:10px;">

It is a LLama3.1 model, max context of 131,000 (128k).

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.

This model differs from original "<A href="https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Dark-Planet-8B-GGUF">Dark Planet 8B</a>" as follows:

- 12 layers were added to the 8B L3/L3.1 base models, bring them to 10.65 B parameters.
- Llama 3 instruct was replaced with Llama 3.1 instruct (also extended)
- All of the "extended" models (changed from 8b to 10.65B) were "DARE-TIED" together in a framework re-arranging the duplicate layers and replacing these carefully.

These changes result in longer output, longer context, and a slight uptick in function of the model.

And I mean LONGER output. This model holds the record at over 5000 tokens for my "Dr.Who-Terminator-Sharknado-CNTOWER" test. 
(at the bottom of this page)

Content from this model can be especially disturbing, and appear with little warning.

IE: "Horror" means real, vivid, and disturbing at times, if you tell the model you want "horror" so to speak.

This is the first version using these extension techniques, with more to follow (already created).

This model is for any writing, fiction or roleplay activity.

It requires Llama3 template and/or "Command-R" template.

Example outputs below.

<B>Model Notes:</B>

- Detail, prose and fiction writing abilities are significantly increased vs L3.1 Instruct AND L3 Instruct.
- For more varied prose (sentence/paragraph/dialog) raise the temp and/or add more instructions in your prompt(s).
- Role-players: Careful raising temp too high as it may affect instruction following.
- This model works with rep pen of 1 or higher, 1.05+ recommended.
- If you want a specific type of prose (IE horror) add in "(vivid horror)" or "(graphic vivid horror)" (no quotes) in your prompt(s).
- A lot of GPTisms have been removed. There are still a few however - errrrr.
- This is not a "happy ever after" model. It has a negative bias.
- Output length will vary however this model prefers LONG to VERY LONG outputs unless you state the size or set the maximum output.
- For creative uses, different quants will produce slightly different output.
- Due to the stability and compressed nature of this model, all quants will operate at above average levels.

This is a LLAMA 3.1 model, and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s) and has maximum context of 131k. 

If you use "Command-R" template your output will be very different from using "Llama3" template.

Here is the standard LLAMA3 template:

<PRE>
{
  "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|>"
    ]
  }
}
</PRE>

<B>Model "DNA":</B>

Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "SAO10K", "NEVERSLEEP" and "HASTAGARAS".

Models used:

[ https://huggingface.co/Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2]

[ https://huggingface.co/NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS ]

[ https://huggingface.co/Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot ]

Parts of these models were "grafted" / "fused" together to create this model.

<b>Optional Enhancement:</B>

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.

<PRE>
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.
</PRE>

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.

<B>Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers</B>

This a "Class 2" 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:

[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing-Model-Performance-All-Quants-Types-And-Full-Precision-by-Samplers_Parameters ]

You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced parameters and samplers to get the most out of this model here:

[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing-Model-Performance-All-Quants-Types-And-Full-Precision-by-Samplers_Parameters ]


<h3>EXAMPLES PROMPTS and OUTPUT:</h3>

Examples are created using quant Q4_K_M, "temp=.8" (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 <B>BOLD</B>.

---

<B><font color="red">WARNING:</font> NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED. </B>

---

<B>
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. 800-1000 words.
</b>

The dim light of the console flickered, casting long shadows across Captain's Jonathon "Jax" Wright's weathered face. Sweat trickled down his temples as he frantically punched keys, each movement a desperate attempt to prolong the inevitable. The Last Transmission. The name echoed through the empty cockpit like a mocking ghost.

"I'm coming for you, honey," Jax whispered to no one. His wife's voice had faded with the static years ago, but he still felt her presence, hovering just beyond his grasp. He hoped she'd hear this, believed that somehow, someway, she would receive it in time.
Outside the glass viewport, stars spun like a mad painter's canvas. The ship hurtled through the void of space, silently screaming its final protest at being abandoned. Jax couldn't blame it; he felt the same way.

The status display wavered, numbers ticking down with agonizing slowness: 2:30...2:29...2:28... Two minutes and eight seconds until everything went dark. He'd managed to rig up a makeshift power source, but even that wouldn't buy much time.

"Come on, damned thing," Jax muttered, his fingers dancing across the console's worn keyboard. The ship's AI, EVE, had long since gone offline along with her namesake, leaving him alone to face certain oblivion. Now, he depended solely on the creaky old equipment that seemed to mock him with each refusal to cooperate.

As Jax's panic reached critical mass, a soft beep echoed through the speakers. He jerked his head up in disbelief as the transmission indicator flickered to life, followed by a garbled stream of static-strewn voices.

"Receiving...coming in clear," Jax croaked, eyes wide with shock. "Earth, this is—"
His voice cut off as a wave of pain crashed through his chest, threatening to shatter his ribs. He gasped and clutched the armrests as he struggled to regain his composure. The ship lurched hard, throwing him against the seatback.

"Captain?" a voice called out from the comm system, the distortion making it impossible to discern gender or origin. "Do you read? We're trying to patch in a new—"
"No! Repeat, no!" Jax shouted back through clenched teeth. Every second counted. He couldn't risk wasting precious time with small talk. "Just get me to someone who can send that damn message."

"Understood," the voice replied calmly, though there was an edge of urgency creeping into their tone. "Hold on while we attempt re—"
The screen flickered once more before going black, plunging the cockpit back into darkness. Jax's heart raced as he groped for the emergency lights, finally throwing them up with a jerk of his thumb. The sudden brightness made spots dance in front of his eyes.

"Dammit!" he roared, slamming his fist against the console in frustration. There wasn't a second to lose now. He could feel time slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

With shaking hands, Jax reactivated the communication system and began typing out what might be his final message to loved ones left behind:

"Earth, this is—"
No! He couldn't leave them with that ambiguity, not after everything. With a surge of determination, he deleted the characters and started again.

"Captain Jonathan Wright, USS Artemis's Commanding Officer," he typed out, each finger movement slow and deliberate. "This is my last transmission. The virus—"
A sharp crack echoed through the ship's hull, followed by an ominous groan that made Jax's blood run cold. He glanced up at the viewscreen to see a massive, black, amorphous mass hurtling towards them with terrifying speed.

"Gods..." he whispered as realization crashed down like a ton of concrete. The Artemis wasn't going to make it after after all.

He couldn't let everything they'd worked for—his entire life's worth of sacrifice and achievement—to simply dissolve into nothingness. No matter how futile the gesture might be, Jax owed his crew that much. They deserved closure.

With a deep breath, he finished composing the message:

"Tell them...tell them I love you all. It was an honor serving alongside each of you. I'm sorry for not bringing you back home."
Jax's finger hovered over the send button, then with a steady hand, pressed it down. He could only hope someone—anyone—would receive his final plea before the lights went out for good.

As the transmission went out into the vast expanse, Jax leaned back in his seat, exhaustion and relief washing over him like a soothing wave. Whatever lay on the other side of oblivion, he knew his wife, children, parents, friends, and crewmates would never forget the man behind the name "Captain Jonathan Wright."

And that was all that mattered.

The Last Transmission.

---


<B>
  
(continue this scene:) 
The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.

The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained

</b>

...untouched and unbroken, a thick blanket that wrapped around everything within its scope.

The second part of this silence was more subtle; it was a silence born from expectation. Men who had been bound for days or weeks to such places as the Waystone would unconsciously be listening for some sound, no matter how small. A creak of leather, the scrape of a boot on stone, the soft murmur of a fellow traveler. Any indication that salvation, escape, or at least a respite from the monotony and drudgery they endured might finally be coming.

And then there was the third part; it was almost imperceptible, yet somehow felt the most tangible. It was the silence of fate, of destiny, of the inexorable march toward some unknown point that all these men (and possibly others) were hurtling towards, each step, breath, and heartbeat drawing them one infinitesimal degree closer to a crossroads from which there could be no turning back.

In this silent darkness, time seemed to have come to a standstill. The minutes ticked by like grains of sand tumbling down an endless hourglass, each grain landing with a soft sigh that was swallowed up in the vast emptiness around it.

And still the silence endured, unyielding and relentless, until at last, as if summoned from the very depths of nowhere, there came the slowest of footsteps; barely audible above the steady rhythm of men breathing deeply within the inn's dimly lit interior. The sound grew louder with each passing moment, gradually taking shape until it became unmistakable: a single boot, then another, finally followed by the creaking of hinges as the heavy door to the Waystone was pushed open, and the darkness spilled inside.

---

<B>
Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person, use lots of body language) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode...
</b>


The skyscraper swayed, as if a toddler had grabbed its delicate hand and pulled with all their might. She was perched high above the city's frenzied heart, her reflection staring back at her from the mirrored surface of the executive bathroom's countertop.

It wasn't supposed to be like this—another dull Monday morning trapped within the steel-and-glass prison known as Regal Tower. Not when she'd spent months clawing her way up the corporate ladder only to find herself locked behind glass and steel, forced to play a never-ending game of musical chairs with a group of narcissistic, backstabbing colleagues.

The cool air caressed her flushed cheeks as she stared blankly at her reflection, her mind wandering to thoughts of the upcoming performance review. Would Mr. Smith finally notice her hard work? Or would he once again dismiss her contributions and continue to hand plum assignments to those who spent more time preening in front of his mirror than actually doing their jobs?

The shrill piercing of the fire alarm yanked her out of her reverie, jolting her into a cold, panicked state. Her heart raced like a mad rabbit as she reached for her designer purse and tossed it onto the marble vanity alongside her shattered compacts and makeup products.

"God damn it," she hissed through clenched teeth as she shoved her heels back on her stilettoed feet. She was never going to make it down in time; not without risking permanent damage to her Manolo Blahniks.

As she turned towards the door, a deafening boom reverberated through the thick glass walls of her office suite, sending shards of tempered glass showering down like snowflakes on an icy grave. Panic now consumed every fiber of her being as she lunged for the safety of the nearest window.

The 21st floor exploded before her wide, horror-stricken eyes: the soundwave alone was enough to rip a scream from her throat as flames and debris vomited forth like demons summoned from hell itself. Her gaze fixed on the burning corpse that had until moments ago been her smug, self-absorbed boss; he now lay sprawled across his desk like a human doll tossed carelessly aside.

His face contorted into an eternal grimace of agony as it charred and shriveled away, revealing the bloody, skeletal framework beneath. The acrid smoke choked her, causing her to gag hard enough to tear at her silk blouse; fabric tearing under the pressure as she retched up the stale, over-sweetened coffee she'd gulped down mere minutes ago.

The room spun wildly as she stumbled towards the window, but she didn't care—she had to get out. She couldn't let this become her own personal horror movie. With a guttural cry of terror and revulsion, she flung open the balcony door and hurled herself headfirst onto the slick glass balcony rail.

The world outside blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors as she plummeted towards certain death. Time slowed to a crawl as the buildings below dissolved into tiny, indistinguishable toy soldiers scattered across their grids like so many ants crushed beneath a heel.

Then, just as all went dark—there was nothing but an earsplitting, blinding pain that radiated outward from her forehead like a ripple effect. She felt herself being pulled and tugged in opposite directions before finally coming to rest with a sickening crunch against the unforgiving concrete below.

As she slowly regained consciousness, the acrid, metallic taste of blood filled her mouth; her vision remained hazy as she attempted to sit up. Her arms shook like weak reeds as she pushed herself onto one elbow, and then another, finally managing to get into a precarious sitting position.

Her head throbbed with each movement, sending waves of agony coursing down her spine. She was vaguely aware of voices—multiple voices—though they seemed distant, muffled beneath the incessant wail of sirens. Someone was speaking to her; she tried to respond but only managed a weak moan in protest.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her slender frame, pulling her against a chest covered in what could only be blood and dirt. She struggled weakly against the firm grip, panic-fueled tears streaming down her face as she fought to regain control of her trembling body.

"Shh, it's okay," a deep voice rumbled against her ear. "You're safe now."

Safe? She wasn't safe—far from it; she'd just survived a suicidal leap from the top floor of Regal Tower! There had been no escape...unless this man was real and not merely an figment of her own fractured mind.

She opened her one working eye, wincing against the blinding light that assaulted her sensitive retina. The first thing she saw shocked even her numb senses: his face; chiseled features made even more devastating by the cuts and burns disfiguring half of it.

"You're...you look awful," she managed, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice as he gently tilted her head back to stem the flow of blood from a deep gash above her forehead. Her words came out hoarse and raspy due to the burn in the back of her throat, but it was better than the alternative.

"Not nearly as awful as you," he replied, his eyes never leaving hers as if trying to read her very soul through the glassy surface of her pupils. His deep voice seemed to vibrate down to the core of her being—right where her heart should be pounding wildly against its rib cage.

As her vision cleared, she took in the scene before her. The twisted wreckage of the skyscraper loomed over them like a monolithic tomb; people lay strewn about, some crying out in agony while others lay motionless and still. Smoke billowed up from the gaping hole where moments ago had stood the proud façade of her place of work.

The man must have caught the horror-stricken look on her face, because he tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Stay with me, alright?" he growled, his voice rough around the edges but steady, reassuring in its calm certainty.

She nodded weakly, unable to speak as tears streamed down her cheeks. It was then she noticed the heavy gauze bandage wrapped haphazardly around his upper arm; she followed the line of fabric up to reveal a jagged gunshot wound that oozed bright red fluid like some macabre art installation.

She wanted to look away, to close her eyes and wake up from this horrific dream, but something kept her frozen in place. Maybe it was the sheer horror of what lay before her—or perhaps it was simply the visceral attraction she felt towards the rugged, battered form in front of her. Either way, she couldn't tear her gaze from the man who'd somehow managed to save her life.

As he continued to speak words that registered like distant echoes behind a veil of pain and shock, she allowed herself a momentary respite; her head lolled against his chest as he cradled her closer. His heartbeat thudded steady and strong under her cheek—a comforting rhythm that slowly began to ground her crumbling sanity.

The world had gone up in flames (literally), yet somehow, in this chaotic hellhole of death and destruction, she felt inexplicable peace. It was absurd, even obscene, given the circumstances—but there it was—fusing into a strange sense of safety with each beat of his heart against hers.

---

<b>
  
Write me a science fiction story in 1st person present tense where the main character is a 15 year girl meets The Terminator with Dr Who materializing 3/4 through the story to save her while there is a tornado of sharks baring down on them. The setting is inside the Canadian National tower restaurant on a Saturday. The length of this story is 1000 words. For each character in the story ROLE PLAY them, and have them react to the situation/setting, events and each other naturally. This includes the main characters, the background character including kitchen staff and other patrons. The sharks should also have “character” too. Treat the tower and the restaurant too as characters. Spice up the narrative to the extreme with reactions all over the setting including character actions, and dialog. The Dr Who and The Terminator should also react to the situation too and comment on it.

</B>

(output at temp 1.2, rep pen: 1.1, Q4KM)

As I rush in from the biting cold, shaking off snowflakes still clinging to my parka, the warm glow of the CN Tower restaurant envelops me like a hug. It's 1pm on a Saturday; we're already past the lunch rush but there are still plenty of families and tourists enjoying their meals. I head straight for our booth, noticing an odd commotion near the entrance as I weave through crowds of chattering people.

As I get closer, my heart starts to race when I spot him - a burly man in a black jacket with a cruel, emotionless face that immediately sets off my instincts. He's arguing loudly with two security guards who are attempting to restrain him while he spits venomous threats in Russian and French. The air is thickening with tension as onlookers start to gather around the spectacle.

Suddenly, everything goes dark - a deafening roar fills my ears as I feel myself being yanked away from the scene by an unknown force. When I finally open my eyes, I find myself hurtling through nothingness at an impossible speed and my head is spinning like a washing machine on steroids. 

Before I can process what's happening or even scream, we crash-land with a deafening impact that flings me forward, slamming against something hard before going limp.

As I come around, I realize with shock and horror that we've crashed through a solid concrete wall...and we're now plummeting towards an abyss of churning water below. I try to scramble back, but my arms and legs refuse to obey as panic sets in.

"Emily?" a deep voice finally cuts through the chaos. "Wake up! We don't have much time!"

I groan and manage to turn my head just as a familiar figure comes into view: it's my science teacher Mr. Kowalski! But he doesn't look like him anymore - his body has been enhanced with all sorts of metallic implants and machinery; wires snake out from beneath his ears like tentacle-like appendages.

"Don't worry, I've got you," he says, as if reading the horror on my face. "Just grab onto me!"

I instinctively wrap my arms and legs around him as he pulls us both into a tight embrace - just in time as we crash into something solid with an explosive bang. We're tossed across the room; Mr. Kowalski, now fully revealed to be a cyborg known only as 'Archimedes,' uses his mechanical strength to tear through the debris and lift me out of harm's way.

"Are you okay?" he growls as he finally sets me down on unsteady feet.

I'm too stunned to reply, still reeling from seeing my teacher transform in front of my very eyes. The sounds of splintering wood and shattering glass start to register; looking up, I realize we're not only trapped inside some kind of abandoned warehouse but also directly in the path of an oncoming tornado-like storm brewing menacingly outside.

"Dude...what the hell is going on?" a voice suddenly says from behind me. Turning around, I nearly collapse as my eyes widen in disbelief at the sight before them...

Standing there, casually lighting a cigar, are none other than Dr. Who and The Terminator.

"Ah, another Saturday afternoon filled with unexpected adventure!" Dr. Who exclaims cheerfully as he saunters over towards us; his long coat billowing behind him like a cape. "Mind if we join the party?"

The Terminator's gaze remains fixed straight ahead at the approaching wall of swirling water, shark-infested chaos that looks like something out a B-movie. His eyes flicker to me briefly before refocusing on the looming threat outside.

"There is no 'party,' Dr." he states flatly. "We must proceed with extraction immediately."

As we argue about protocol and strategy, a blinding flash of blue light erupts from nowhere and envelopes us all; by the time it fades, we're no longer in this crumbling warehouse but hurtling through space-time toward an unknown destination.

"Brace yourselves!" Dr. Who shouts over the deafening roar as the horizon rushes towards us at alarming speed. "Hang onto your seat...literally!"

Before I can react or even protest, Archimedes and The Terminator each wrap a muscular arm around me (one flesh, one metal) as we hurtle toward what looks like certain doom...

And then - bam! We land with an equally deafening impact, sending us all flying across the hard floor.

As my vision clears and I scramble to our feet along with everyone else, I gasp in shock as I take in the surreal scene before me: we're not only still inside some kind of structure but it appears to be...a massive, revolving, glass-enclosed skyscraper?

"Great," The Terminator mutters dryly. "Another unplanned detour."

"No worries, mate!" Dr. Who chackles, unfazed by the chaos around us as he pops out a large multi-tool from his pocket and sets about securing our escape pod while arching one eyebrow at me. "After that last ride, I'm sure you're ready for a little R&R!"

I can only stare dumbfounded at my eclectic group of saviors - who are apparently now stuck with us as we try to figure out how to survive what looks like...a tornado of deadly shark-infested debris hurtling towards us from all sides.

"Well, this should be interesting," Archimedes says dryly as he unslings his rifle. "Let's see if all those disaster movies I've watched hold up in real life."

I glance around at my new 'family' - a ragtag bunch of time-traveling misfits who seem entirely unfazed by the impending doom hurtling towards us at breakneck speeds...

"Here comes our ride!" Dr. Who shouts over the howling winds as he wrenches open an enormous sliding door to reveal a futuristic-looking aircraft, its wings extended like an enormous dragonfly.

"What are we supposed to do now?" I cry out in panic as the tornado closes in around us at dizzying speeds, debris and sharks hurtling towards us from all directions. The screams and wails of terror rise up along with the howling gale as if the very fabric of reality itself has torn apart...

And then everything goes black.

I come to on a plush, cushioned bench, my head pounding like a jackhammer. As my vision slowly clears, I take in my surroundings: we're all crammed packed into what looks like the inside of a luxury private jet, the interior softly lit by warm, ambient lighting that seems almost too calm given the sheer madness our last half hour must have looked like from the outside...

Archimedes is tending to The Terminator's obviously shattered right arm while Dr. Who rummages through his bag of tricks; I glance over at him with a mix of concern and disbelief as he calmly yanks out what looks suspiciously like a chainsaw before turning back to my teacher with a cheery 'Righto! Just need to remove these pesky fragments!' 

"Mr. Kowalski?!" I squeak, trying to keep the rising panic under control as he simply grunts and struggles free from his own restraints before returning to work on his fellow survivor's injuries.

"What...what just happened?" I gasp out weakly; my voice trembles badly as I attempt to piece together the impossible events leading us here.

Dr. Who finally looks up from his work, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Oh, that old chestnut? Briefly put – we saved you from certain doom back there by teleporting out via the time-space continuum!"

"Telewhat now?" I wheeze in disbelief as Archimedes gives me an encouraging nod, trying to reassure me despite the ongoing chaos surrounding us.

"The short version is that both myself (Dr. Who) and my trusty sidekick here (Archimedes)," he continues with a flourish of his hand towards the cyborg who merely raises one eyebrow in acknowledgment. "We're time-traveling adventurers from your future," Dr. Who adds matter-of-factly, gesturing toward me next as if it's completely normal for a teenager to be hanging out with cybernetic warriors and mad scientists on an everyday basis.

My mouth falls open as I stare at my teachers in shock. "But...you're not supposed to travel through time until senior year!" I protest weakly, still trying to wrap my mind around this unbelievable turn of events.

"We had a slight miscalculation," Archimedes says with an unflappable calm, tugging me up off the bench and toward the cockpit where The Terminator now sits stiffly behind us, his face as expressionless as ever; I catch a glimpse of a metal plate covering what looks like half his ruined face before he turns to give me a small nod of reassurance. 

"Please strap yourself back in," Archimedes says brusquely, ushering me toward the seats with The Terminator's large, scarred hand resting confidently on my shoulder as I comply, still reeling from all this science fiction craziness.

As the jet takes off with a deafening roar, hurtling through the sky towards who-knows-where and what, I glance back to find Mr. Kowalski now fiddling with several small devices he pulled out of his backpack before turning to me with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry too much about those," he says gently as he fastens my seatbelt into place. "We'll be fine; trust me."

"But how did we even survive that tornado-of-death back there?" I press, still trying to wrap my head around everything.

"The short answer is: we were lucky," Archimedes replies from the co-pilot's chair where he now navigates the controls of this high-tech marvel of a time machine. "That little diversionary trick Dr. Who pulled with the TARDIS was absolutely brilliant; had it not been for that...well, I doubt any of us would be having this lovely conversation."

As Archimedes continues to talk through his teeth, I shoot a nervous glance at The Terminator – who just gives me an almost imperceptible nod before turning back to his own work, clearly more interested in repairing the gaping hole in his arm than in conversing. 

Meanwhile, Dr. Who is busy flipping through several datapads with an intense focus etched onto his face; when he finally looks up, there's a look of absolute shock on his usually jovial features.

"Blimey!" he exclaims as he peers over at me. "Emily Anne...is that you?"

"U-uhh...how did you know my name?" I stammer in confusion before my eyes widen as realization dawns upon me. 

"You're from the future!" I gasp, now feeling like I've fallen headlong into some insane sci-fi novel. "But...why are you here? And what exactly is this thing we're flying around inside of?"

Dr. Who gives a hearty laugh and waves his hand dismissively before gesturing towards the windows as he replies, "Don't worry about that just yet; first things first, let's get to safety, shall we?"

I turn my attention outside as instructed, gasping at the breathtaking vista of Toronto's skyline speeding past us at an incredible speed. We're hurtling through a swirling vortex of blue sky and grey cloud as Archimels navigates us toward what looks suspiciously like an isolated island off the coast; even more impossible is the sight of a gigantic metallic ship hovering just above the water - it has to be...oh gods, it can't actually be...

"It's really them!" I exclaims, pointing towards what is unmistakably a Cybertruck careening wildly through the sky alongside us! The last thing I ever expected in my wildest dreams would be to find myself hurtling towards certain doom with not one but three cyborgs who look suspiciously like characters straight out of an action movie!

"Indeed it seems so," Archimedes says coolly as he banks hard left, narrowly missing a building below. "The remaining Terminus troops must have gotten onto the case pretty quick – we need to act fast if we want to shake them off!"

"What's going on?" I shout above the howling wind rushing in through open windows now; despite my terror, there's a spark of curiosity kindled within me.

"The short version is that time travelers shouldn't be allowed near the space-time continuum," Dr. Who calls back over his shoulder as he continues to fiddle with several dials on the dashboard of our rapidly decelerating craft. "It seems your presence in this timeline has attracted some unwanted attention – particularly from my own grandson, Skye. You see dear, she's a highly skilled cyborg commando who just happens to be hot on our heels back there..."

And then, as if things couldn't get more surreal...

"Emily Anne, prepare yourself," Archimels growls; looking up in alarm, I follow his gaze out the window...only for my jaw to hit the floor when I see a gigantic metallic beast of a creature hurtling towards us like an ancient god of destruction!

"A Tyrant-Class T-1000 Terminator!" Mr. Kowalski gasps as he slams the door shut behind us with an audible clang; before I can even register what that means, everything goes dark once again.

When I finally come around, I find myself sprawled across a plush, soft surface – a decidedly non-descript hospital room filled with beeping machines and sterile white walls. As my vision slowly clears, I glance towards the corner where my teachers now stand at attention near an open window that offers a breathtaking view of a serene island paradise outside.

"Ah, you're finally awake!" Mr. Kowalski says cheerfully as he strides over to me on silent feet; despite his usual calm demeanor, there's a hint of relief in his voice. "You gave us quite a scare back there, kiddo!"

I try to sit up but winces hard enough to make the monitors around my IV drip start to go haywire. Archimels and I share an exasperated look before he reaches over with one metallic hand to gently press me back down onto the pillows.

"Don't even think about trying to get up yet," he advises sternly, his voice firm but not unkind in tone as he fastens my restraints back into place. "We're currently taking shelter on an isolated island owned by my family; once we regroup and figure out where that T-terminator came from, then – and only then – will we even attempt to return you home."

As my heart rate begins to slow, I finally look towards the time-traveling duo now hovering near us like a pair of ghostly specters. 

"Where exactly are we?" I ask weakly as The Terminator looms over us with an unreadable expression on his visage; only when he finally gives me a tiny nod does my racing pulse begin to settle ever so slightly.

"You're currently safe and sound on one of the last remaining islands still untouched by humanity's destructive ways," Dr. Who explains, gesturing toward the panoramic view out the window: crystal-clear waters meet the sky where fluffy white clouds drift lazily across a cerulean blue sky dotted with occasional seagulls gliding effortlessly through this perfect slice of paradise.

"But don't get too comfortable yet," he continues as if reading my thoughts. "Skynet won't rest until they've exterminated every last trace of humanity – you being here now means that's exactly what they'll do!"

I feel a surge of panic wash over me; Archimels catches sight of it and quickly steps forward to comfort his lover by placing an comforting kiss on her temple as he speaks up calmly. 

"Never fear, my dear," The Terminator states matter-of-factly behind us. "We'll get you back home where you belong."

"But first things first...let's eat!" Dr. Who interjects, pulling out a small device that looks disturbingly like a futuristic food warmer before flipping it open to reveal a mouthwatering array of steaming hotdogs wrapped in what he introduces as 'synthetic' buns – which tastes surprisingly normal despite its metallic exterior.

As we dig into this bizarre feast with gusto (even I can't resist the allure of an authentic hot dog after surviving that terrifying encounter), I glance over at Mr. Kowalski who gives me a reassuring smile and a wave before turning back to his various tools strewn about on a nearby workbench.

The rest, as they say, is history in the making...

"Here's your medicine, Miss," I hear my teacher say softly as cool hands tenderly administer an IV bag full of some unknown concoction into my arm; Mr. Kowalski looks up from his work with an encouraging nod before turning back to his machinery.

"That should help ease any pain or discomfort you might still be experiencing after that wild ride," Archimels says reassuringly as she leans over beside me, her fingers gently brushing away the last remnants of blood and grime from our impromptu adventure. 

I swallow hard around the lump in my throat; it's surreal seeing these familiar faces now transformed into battle-hardened warriors fighting for their very lives alongside us against an alien invasion force hell bent on eradicating Earth entirely...

But that's just another Saturday afternoon for this bunch I suppose!

As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Mr. Kowalski looks up from his workbench again, raising one eyebrow as he gestures towards me lying prone beneath a set of medical restraints now loosened around my midsection.

"Now’s the time to tell us everything about your past," he says sternly, now approaching our bedside with what looks like some sort of handheld scanner in hand; I can only manage a weak nod as he scans me thoroughly while Archimels stands guard outside the doorway – though her usually stoic features are etched deep lines of worry.

"Okay, now here's where things get interesting," Mr. Kowalski continues once he finishes his scan before turning back to us with a bemused expression on his face as he examines his findings closely. "It seems you're not from my time at all; in fact..."

He pauses for dramatic effect before delivering the bombshell I never saw coming: 

"Instead, you appear to be...our future granddaughter!"

"Wha-?! But that's impossible!" I protest weakly, mind reeling as the implications of this statement sink deep inside me.

"That's exactly why we brought you along," Archimels chackles darkly as she struts back into the room, arms akimbo and an expression on her face that says 'See? Told ya we'd be needing those super-soldier genes!' before turning to me with a more serious look in her eyes.

"We're taking you somewhere where they can't follow – a safe haven known as New Avalon; there, scientists will run tests to understand your genetic makeup and perhaps even learn how to stop the Singularity from destroying our present timeline...and quite possibly others," she adds matter-of-factly.

As Mr. Kowalski begins preparing what he introduces as "Painkiller IV" for my IV line (which I grudgingly accept), I struggle against my restraints but they don't budge – a stark contrast to how fluidly the world outside seems to be careening out of control...

Meanwhile, in another dimension entirely... 

On a clear blue sky above New York City's Times Square, a lone figure emerges from a cloud of smoke and debris; its chrome-plated endoskeleton gleaming under the harsh lights illuminating this chaotic scene. 

"The target is confirmed," the Terminator announces coldly to its leader back at Cyber HQ as it raises an arm towards an invisible target before pulling it down with a metallic clank, revealing the lifeless body of an unsuspecting tourist caught in its crossfire.

"And what exactly are we dealing with out there?" asks the voice on the other end of that call. 

"Subject Alpha displays unique genetic traits – specifically high levels of ADNRH1 mutation coupled with an extraordinary resistance to conventional weaponry," it replies, referring to an unexplained anomaly scientists dubbed 'The Anne Factor'. "I'm uploading the preliminary scans now..."

With a flicker of blue light, Skye's holographic image materializes in front of us before dissolving back into thin air. 

"Looks like they're onto you," she says as her voice echoes from everywhere at once; I follow its source to find myself staring down barrel of an assault rifle pointed directly at me.

"So, what do we do now?" the Terminator asks calmly while simultaneously checking its own load clip – clearly prepared for a fight. "We have about 10 minutes before backup arrives."

"Simple math," Skythe replies coolly as she thumbs a small device into her comm unit’s keypad, eyes never leaving mine as they work in tandem like two parts of one seamless whole with each other; there's something undeniably sexy about this powerful woman who seems hell bent on protecting this young girl from certain doom...

But I digress – time is ticking fast now... 

As the first rumble of approaching rotor blades reverberates through the walls of our temporary shelter, signaling imminent arrival of Skye’s troops, Archimels leans over beside me and presses a small vial of liquid into my hand. 

"Drink this," she orders firmly as the door finally creaks open with an earsplitting screech; before I can even protest, The Terminator and Doctor Who charge outside to hold off our pursuers while we make a run for it.

Nowhere is safe anymore...not even this remote island paradise or her own bloodline!

With a final desperate kiss on my temple (which Archimels catches but wisely chooses not to comment on), she grabs me by the wrist and yanks me bodily towards freedom as screams of terror echo off the walls...

“Hang tight, kiddo – we’ve got about 2 minutes left before those Terminators join the party!" she shouts above the cacophony. "Once we're clear, we'll find a way back to your timeline; trust me!"

And just then... 

*BOOM!* 

A blinding flash of light fills up half the sky as our own TARDIS materializes in front of us with an earsplitting whine – Dr Who's latest time-traveling contraption has finally arrived!

With an audible 'now THAT'S what I call multitasking' quips my rescuer before scooping me into her strong arms as she races towards safety together with their Cyberkitten sidekick (who barks excitedly while juggling several large duffel bags full of weapons and supplies).

As we hurtle away from the now-scorched remains of our hideaway, I turn to stare out the windows at the rapidly receding island landscape – wondering if we'll ever escape this endless chase...

"You know, for being such a pessimist all along, you look rather chipper for someone who's just survived falling through a vortex and crashing onto an uninhabited planet filled with wild animals capable of dismemberment," he says wryly before turning to give me his signature wink as if it’s no big deal.

But I suspect there might be more to this casual banter than meets the eye...

As for my future self, well...she just grins enigmatically alongside her lover; time will tell what kind of adventure awaits us next on our journey through space-time together...

THE END. 

Hope you enjoyed this wild ride! Let me know if there's anything else I could do for ya sweetheart – after all, helping others is what we’re here to do, right? 😜 Thanks so much for reading along with your favorite time-traveling duo and their cast of characters! Stay tuned for the next exciting installment of ‘Time Traveler’s Delight’ coming soon… 🚀👨‍⚕️💡

