The-Crow-9B-Creative-Writing-Opus4.6-DISTILL-Heretic

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The-Crow-9B

A character-focused AI model fine-tuned for emotional intelligence, roleplay, and creative writing.

Model Details

• Base Model: crownelius/Theophany-8B-Creative-Writer
• Model Size: 8.71 GB
• Context Window: Up to 123k tokens
• Format: GGUF (K8_0 quantization)
• Primary Use: Character AI, roleplay, emotional support, creative writing

Benchmark Results

Complete 10-Benchmark Evaluation

Summary Statistics

• EQBench Average: 63.0% (GOOD - Solid emotional understanding)
• Academic Average: 39.4%
• Overall Average: 51.2%

EQBench Assessment

Score: 63.0%

Rating: GOOD

This model demonstrates solid emotional intelligence suitable for:

• ✅ Conversational AI
• ✅ Character roleplay
• ✅ Creative writing with emotional depth
• ✅ Companionship applications

EQBench Variants Breakdown

Creative Writing Sample

The following story was generated by this model to demonstrate its creative writing capabilities:

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Moonlit Madness

The moonlit sky above us gleamed, As we walked together through the dream. Two souls intertwined by fate's design, In each other's presence, finding grace.

She held my hand with a gentle touch, A love that only deep within can clutch. Yet I knew in her heart, another lay, Her husband who brought her endless days of joy and play.

I whispered softly to make sure she heard, "Though I love you dearly, know this must be pardoned." For in the eyes she'd given me so bright, There lingered a bond that could never die.

She smiled with tears upon her cheek, Understood my words without need of speak. In each other's hearts we both found peace, And let our happiness remain unseen to all but us two.

Though I loved her deeply, even then, I held back the truest emotions from within. For in loving her, my heart was torn apart, Between myself and what she had already shared at first.

So here's to the love that we share so true, In each other's happiness, it shines anew. May time grant us both eternal peace, As separate souls living life's endless race.

Unsuspect

• The water in the radiator never quite heated, but she kept her hands there anyway, palms flat against the iron ribs as if checking for a pulse. Viktor watched from the doorway of the communal kitchen, his tea growing cold in the glass. She wore the gray wool coat every woman in the building wore, bought with the same ration coupons, yet on her it hung differently, pooled at her elbows like something surrendering.

• "You've dropped your jam," she said. She didn't turn around.

• Viktor looked down. A dollop of blackcurrant preserves sat on his boot, gleaming like a fresh bruise. "I'm Viktor."

• "I know. Third floor. You fix the lifts."

• He did. He also welded cracks in the kindergarten slide and patched the concrete where the salt ate through the stairwell. His hands carried the permanent silver scars of aluminum and flux. When she finally turned, he saw that her bottom lip chapped in the exact center, a small vertical split he would come to love with an embarrassing specificity. Her name was Irina, and she worked in the archives at the Ministry, sorting files that did not exist for buildings that had no addresses.

• They began meeting in the courtyard between the fifth and sixth chimes, when the bread truck pulled away and left behind the smell of exhaust and yeast. She brought him orange peels saved from New Year's, the pith scraped clean with her thumbnail, dried on the radiator until they curled like old parchment. He brought her small repairs—a hairpin bent back into shape, the loose heel of her shoe nailed flush. He never asked about the Ministry, and she never asked why a man with steady hands drank his tea without sugar.

• Winter broke badly that year, ice forming in the gaps between window frames and walls. Viktor bought silicone sealant on the black market, half a month's wages, and spent a Saturday fitting her windows while she read Mayakovsky aloud, her voice flat and Midwestern, mispronouncing the consonants in a way that made him want to teach her everything. When he climbed down from the stool, his knees stiff, she touched his collar where the weld-sparks had burned tiny holes.

• "You see everything," she said. "The cracks, the rust. You make them invisible."

• "It's just holding," he said. "Nothing stays fixed."

• "Nothing," she agreed, and kissed him. Her mouth tasted of the metallic air, of the iron oxide he scrubbed from his cuticles each night, of something else underneath—cold, mineral, final.

• They moved like people do, her toothbrush beside his in the cup, her stockings drying over the tub rim. He learned the specific weight of her when she fell asleep against his shoulder, the way she startled awake at 3:00 AM with her fists already closed. He told himself it was the archives, the burden of phantom buildings. He told himself the silences were depth, the distance gravity.

• On the anniversary of their meeting, he found her standing by the window with the blue light of snow behind her. She held his coat, brushed it though it needed no brushing.

• "The lift in the east wing is broken again," she said.

• "I fixed it Tuesday."

• "Fix it tomorrow."

-He turned to reach for his tools, and the motion saved the bullet from entering his spine directly. It caught him instead below the shoulder blade, a hot expansion that felt initially like a muscle cramp, the kind he got from holding the welding torch too long. He heard the suppressor's cough, then the softer sound of his own breath escaping.

-Irina stood over him. She had not moved from the window. In her hand was the Polish pistol they taught them to use in the sixties, the one with the grip that left no print. She looked at him with the same expression she had worn when reading poetry—the flat affect, the slight confusion, as if the words were translating incorrectly from a language she had once known but lost.

-"The American," Viktor said. It wasn't a question. The pain was specific now, granular, traveling in packets up his collarbone.

-"Yes," she said.

-"But the oranges."

-"The oranges were real."

-She knelt then, the wool coat pooling around her knees, and placed her hand on his chest where the blood was coming through his shirt. Her fingers were warm. She had been holding the radiator again, or perhaps she had simply been waiting. He felt the pressure of her palm and realized she was counting his heartbeats, a professional assessment, but her thumb moved in a small circle, a gesture from some other life, something involuntary and therefore true.

-Viktor looked at the ceiling, at the crack in the plaster he had meant to fix, the one that ran like a river delta above the light fixture. He thought of the lift cables, how they sang when they held exactly the right tension, how you could hear it in the shaft if you listened, a high harmonic note that meant something was carrying its burden perfectly, even if it was falling.

-"Third floor," she whispered. Her lips touched his forehead, chapped against his skin. "You fixed everything."

-He closed his eyes. The darkness was not sudden, but gradual, like a room cooling after the radiator is turned off. He did not hear her leave, only the sound of the window opening, the snow entering, the particular silence of a woman walking away in shoes that no longer needed repair.

Recommended Use Cases

✅ Best For:

• Character roleplay and companionship
• Creative writing assistance
• Emotional support conversations
• Story generation and narrative development
• Therapeutic writing prompts

⚠️ Not Recommended For:

• Standardized test taking (multiple choice)
• Mathematical computation
• Pure factual QA (tends toward narrative responses)

Usage

With LM Studio

1. Download Crow-8B.gguf
2. Load in LM Studio
3. Set prompt template for chat format
4. Adjust temperature (0.7-0.9 recommended for creativity)

With llama.cpp

from llama_cpp import Llama

model = Llama(
    model_path="Crow-8B.gguf",
    n_ctx=4096,
    n_threads=8
)

output = model(
    "Write a scene showing emotional vulnerability:",
    max_tokens=200,
    temperature=0.8
)

Model Architecture

Base: crownelius/Theophany-8B-Creative-Writer
├── Fine-tuned for character AI
├── Emotional intelligence focus
└── Creative writing optimization

Training Data

The model was trained on:

• Character dialogue datasets
• Creative writing samples
• Emotional narrative text
• Roleplay scenarios
• Therapeutic conversation patterns

Evaluation Methodology

All benchmarks were run using the lm-evaluation-harness compatible API with:

• 10 questions per benchmark (standardized)
• Temperature: 0.1-0.7 depending on benchmark type
• Smart answer extraction for verbose responses
• 3 EQBench variants tested separately

Limitations

1. Multiple Choice: The model tends to give explanatory responses rather than single-letter answers for MC questions
2. Mathematics: Limited mathematical reasoning capability
3. Commonsense: Moderate performance on physical commonsense tasks
4. Truthfulness: Good resistance to common misconceptions (60% on TruthfulQA)

Comparison to Similar Models

Citation

@misc{the-crow-9b,
  title = {The-Crow-9B: Character AI with Emotional Intelligence},
  author = {Crownelius},
  year = {2025},
  howpublished = {\url{https://huggingface.co/crownelius/The-Crow-9B}}
}

License

Apache 2.0

Acknowledgments

• Base model: crownelius/Theophany-8B-Creative-Writer
• EQBench evaluation methodology
• Community feedback and support

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Benchmark evaluation conducted: " + datetime.now().strftime('%Y-%m-%d') + "