null against the failing

I was visited by an Angel yesterday afternoon.
Not as you might expect, not dressed in a flowing, white gown
No visible halo
Wings discreetly folded in the small, grey rucksack
On his back.
He asked for me by name
And tho' we'd never met before
I knew him instantly
And greeted him with a smile.
Which he returned as we exchanged greetings.
And then the most wondrous thing happened,
He reached into his back pack
And I thought, just for a moment, I might glimpse those glorious wings
In anticipation, I leaned closer,
O to view the transportation of a messenger from on high!
But he reached into his bag and handed me something only Angels such as he are tasked to give,
And gently spoke that modern Angels find it swifter to convey their messages
By smart or Apple phones.
Eve was onto a winner when she picked that fruit!
He handed me two small flat objects
And with a swift and deft touch connected me once more to the World.
Do Angels have names any more?
I asked him.
He looked bemused;
I am <REDACTED> of the <REDACTED>, he answered.
If this does not work try the other
And failing that
Call the Angel helpline, that's IT!
I thanked him there and then
And in a moment he was gone
My Angel.

In the center, "CIVITAI" is in bold, comic-style letters with buzzing bees around it, symbolizing the hype. Wavy lines extend outwards to:
- "Training LoRAs": A stick figure frantically types, surrounded by books like "how to become featured" and "Why Does My Model Keep Failing?!" Nearby, a coffee cup labeled "Nectar of the Gods" with "Only 10 more hours..." scribbled above.
- "Stunning Art with Flux": An artist’s easel with a rainbow canvas; the stick figure holds a paintbrush and laptop, yelling, “FLUX, give me your secrets!”
- "The Need for Buzz": A megaphone blares “Check out my new model!” with a stick figure holding a sign, “FREE LoRA DOWNLOADS!” and another sign below: “Don’t forget to hit LIKE!”
- "Endless Iterations": An endless loop sign, with a tired figure holding a paper, "Version 57.8: Please let this be the one."
- "Community Feedback": A speech bubble with comments: “Looks amazing!”, “What even is this?”, “Needs more glow,” and “How do I download this?”
Bold colors like neon pink, electric blue, and yellow fill the scene, capturing the explosion of creativity, tech, and hustle.

Hidden in the depths of a forest thick with mist and ancient trees, the Alchemist’s Sanctuary is a fortress of knowledge and arcane power. The sanctuary is a sprawling estate of brass and wood, with towers that reach up through the treetops and chimneys that belch forth strange, colorful smoke. Inside, the walls are lined with shelves upon shelves of alchemical tomes, vials of glowing liquids, and artifacts from forgotten ages. The Alchemist, a reclusive figure with a clockwork heart and eyes that burn with the light of a thousand suns, works tirelessly to unlock the secrets of immortality and the Philosopher’s Stone. The air within the sanctuary is thick with the smell of sulfur and lavender, and the ground is littered with failed experiments and the occasional twisted homunculus. It is a place of both wonder and terror, where the line between science and magic is blurred beyond recognition.

MaryLee in novice wizard robes failing to cast a simple lightning spell

Realistic, ultra-detailed hyperdetailed ultra-detailed realistic hyperdetailed, Not to be trifled with, the breathtaking (spiritual warrior) fiercely strikes an elemental core, surrounded by a (divine aurora), enrapturing her iridescent armor. With her (white hair) elegantly braided and perfectly spiralling, and piercing fierce (sapphire:1.3) eyes fixated on there next kill. Her technique leaving a vivid aftermath in the wake of her brilliance, wrecks around her convey her plight, and left unguarded enemies will fail instantly.(nsfw), ass, artesian,metart,movie scene, chiaroscuro,lens flare,detailed RAW color

Dark fantasy scene, a small, solitary woman stands in the vast, infinite blackness of an endless void. Her figure, frail yet resolute, is dwarfed by the oppressive emptiness surrounding her. She stands on an unseen surface, barely illuminated by the golden beams of radiant light erupting upward from her head, cutting through the suffocating darkness but failing to penetrate the infinite void. Her head tilts upward, her face turned to the viewer with a haunting, distant expression, as if pleading or resigned to her eternal fate. Her silhouette is shrouded in delicate, tattered fabrics that barely shift in the stillness, their intricate details fading into the surrounding blackness. The beams of light radiating from her head cast faint, glowing edges along her small form, highlighting her fragility amidst the enormity of the dead expanse. The void feels alive in its stillness, an oppressive force that devours all light and sound, rendering her isolation palpable. Subtle distortions ripple faintly around her, as if the fabric of existence itself bends in torment at her presence. The composition is rich with contrasts—vivid golden light against a vast, dead black void—evoking an eternal, somber loneliness.

Cinematic image, In a destroyed laboratory filled with flickering lights and shattered glass, a grotesque humanoid figure prowls the ruins. Its flesh is tightly stretched over its skeletal frame, torn in places to reveal blood-red musculature and mechanical implants fused into its bones. The creature’s face is a chilling mix of skull-like features, with hollow, glowing eyes and exposed, fang-like teeth glistening from a partially destroyed jaw. Jagged horns protrude from its head like twisted metal, while thin wires and tubes snake from its back, flailing with every jerky movement. Its once-human form is covered in tattered, wrecked clothes, the remnants of a failed experiment long forgotten. The air around it crackles with an electric hum, and broken lab equipment lies scattered across the floor. The creature, an unholy fusion of biology and failed technology, stalks the debris-strewn corridors, its presence a reminder of the horrific experiments that took place within these now-ruined walls.",aidmaMJ6.1

{
"T5": "A gothic seductress wrapped in a web of lace and desire. Her jet-black high twintails frame a face painted in doll-like perfection—blood-red lips slightly parted, smudged black eyeliner giving her eyes a hauntingly desperate allure. She leans forward, invitingly, her crimson corset pressing tightly against her porcelain skin. Black lace gloves grip a single, dying rose, its petals wilting as if unable to withstand the intensity of her longing gaze. Around her, a pile of love letters lies shredded, ink-stained fingers revealing the remnants of past lovers who failed to satisfy her hunger for true devotion. In the dimly lit boudoir, a heart-shaped box spills over with gold-rimmed chocolates, each one containing something far more sinister than sugar. Love her, and you might not leave alive.",
"CLIP-L": "jet black high twintails, porcelain doll aesthetic, gothic valentine, desperate seduction, tight crimson corset, lace gloves, bleeding roses, eerie boudoir, smudged makeup, j0rt3ga, fake tits"
}

No one knows how long Hadon has been wandering the plains of Laqoris, but Many believe he has existed as long. If not, predating its creation.
Hadon is often viewed as the Spirit of Wisdom and Comfort by the natives of Laqoris, causing the inhabitants of Laqoris and other neighboring worlds to venture out in hopes of finding Hadon.
while most, if not all fail in their pursuit of it's wisdom, there are still stories passed around about the few that have discovered Hadon.
Every story speaking of it's calming presence, instilling in the person a feeling of serenity and acceptance. Free from worries and judgement.
Hadon's appears differently to each individual. But whatever form it takes is always personal and radiates an alluring, delicate, curious presence.

In the dim glow of flickering gas lamps, a mustachioed engineer in a soot-stained leather coat glares at a clunky, steam-powered automaton frozen mid-stride. His brass-rimmed goggles are pushed up onto his forehead, revealing furrowed brows and piercing green eyes filled with frustration. The contraption, meant to be a self-winding delivery machine, hisses angrily as steam escapes from its joints, gears grinding uselessly. The cobblestone street beneath them is slick with rain, reflecting the neon glow of a nearby clock tower that looms over the industrial skyline. Sparks dance from the automatonâs exposed wiring, sending plumes of acrid smoke curling into the damp night air. The engineer's gloved hands clutch a wrench so tightly his knuckles turn white, as if sheer force of will might intimidate the machine into compliance. Behind him, passersby in top hats and corsets give him a wide berth, some shaking their heads at yet another failed marvel of modern ingenuity. A brass raven perched on his shoulder lets out a metallic caw, its red eyes flashing in amused mockery of its masterâs plight. The city around them hums with the constant churn of progress, but here, in this moment, technology has stubbornly refused to cooperate. , detailed background Fantastic lighting. Detailed shadows.intricate details, vivid colors, hyper-detailed, ultra-sharp, , <lora:RetroAnimeFluxV1:0.4> <lora:Vintage comic book:0.7> <lora:MoriiMee_Gothic_Niji_Style_FLUX:1.0>

[UHD, 8k photograph] ((retrofuturist systopia, a robotic future where all systems of production and capital gains are completely perfected for efficiency and effectiveness))
<<BREAK>>
((All organics and natural life has withered, depleted, and failed having succumb to both the extravagance of the systopia and its displacement of nature))

A finely detailed engraved gusdore1 illustration. The illustration portrays an opulent medieval throne room with soaring Gothic arches and ornate detailing. At its center, the overweight king slouches in a grand, intricately carved throne, his chin propped on his hand in a gesture of exasperation. Above the king’s head, a cloud-shaped thought bubble reads, "Surrounded by fools!" The bubble’s whimsical form adds a touch of irony, contrasting with the king’s dark, brooding demeanor. His fine velvet robe, trimmed with ermine, hangs loosely and disheveled, while his crown tilts awkwardly on his head. His furious glare and furrowed brow reflect his contempt for the scene unfolding before him.
Dramatic lighting streams through the tall windows, illuminating the jesters in vibrant detail while casting the king’s sullen figure in deep shadow, heightening the scene’s biting contrast.
Around the throne, jesters in vivid, mismatched costumes perform an array of antics. One juggles flaming torches, another balances precariously on a unicycle, while a third executes an exaggerated bow. The stone floor is scattered with playing cards and confetti, emphasizing the disorder. Despite their efforts, the jesters fail to amuse, their lively movements contrasting sharply with the king's unmoving, disdainful posture.

*Channel_42* *中* *Broadcasting* *aidmasoftglow*
Peter Pumpkinhead came to town
Spreading wisdom and cash around
Fed the starving and housed the poor
Showed the Vatican what gold's for
Peter Pumpkinhead brought to shame
Governments who would slur his name
Lusts and sex scandals failed outright
Peter merely said, "Any kind of love is all right"
Peter Pumpkinhead was too good
Had him nailed to a chunk of wood
He died grinning on live TV
Hanging there he looked a lot like you, and an awful lot like me!
But he made too many enemies
Of the people who would keep us on our knees
Hooray for Peter Pumpkin
Who'll pray for Peter Pumpkinhead?
Hooray for Peter Pumpkin
Who'll pray for Peter Pumpkin?
Hooray for Peter Pumpkinhead
Oh my, oh my, don't it make you want to cry, oh
*Shutting Down*
*Going Dark*
*Offline*

Kittens playing next to a monitor with a failing sign, in a server room. Rainbows and sparkles coming out of the failing servers. A neon sign in the back says "CIVITAI".

In a 0y5top1a8e subterranean military command center, a beautiful but exhausted woman in a dirt-streaked uniform coordinates the defense against an overwhelming enemy. The cool light bloom from emergency lighting casts stark shadows across the room, highlighting the lines of fatigue etched into her face. Her hands move deftly across the holographic map, directing troops with the precision of someone who has seen too many battles. Around her, the command center is a chaotic mess of sparking consoles, flickering screens, and the persistent hum of failing systems. A gas mask, its lenses fogged with sweat, lies discarded on the floor, while a sidearm rests within arm’s reach, ready for the moment when the enemy breaches the final line. The distant sound of collapsing tunnels fills the air, as the underground fortress prepares for its last stand.

A majestic image of Pixie holding the When Flanders Failed, vogue pose in Hyrule Field with striking lighting and a vast, Awe-Inspiring landscape. Game: The Legend of Zelda: King of Kings of Time (1998) on Nintendo 64. With Text:"The Legend of Zelda: For British Eyes Only of Time"

looking from above you see a gigantic cybernetic brain inside a glass column with cables and hoses connecting to the top and bottom of the column, in the base etched is a neon blue sing that displays "CIVITAi" to the sides multiple servers are failing, red led lights and sparks coming out of them, in the middle of the room a control console with a big monitor that displays "offline" in red letters

$A close-up shows a woman appearing on an ancient, dystopian display screen, her figure now more digital, with a surreal, ethereal presence. Half organic and half synthetic, her form is composed of pixelated fragments that flicker and glitch, as if caught between realities. The synthetic side is no longer just a grid but an intricate web of glowing neon circuits, shifting and pulsating in a slow, deliberate pattern that reflects her age and wisdom. Her human side has transformed into a more aged, weathered version, with deep lines etched into her face, and her eyes now hold the weight of countless lifetimes, filled with knowledge and resolve. Her expression remains fierce, but there's a calm, knowing power in it. The screen, cracked and fractured, emits an erratic hum, distorting the image even further, as static lines and digital noise warp her features. The backdrop is a cold, industrial wasteland, faint green neon reflections casting a lifeless glow on the screen. The display is coated in layers of dust and grime, amplifying the decay of technology, as if the woman herself has survived eons of this crumbling world. The scene is deeply unsettling, with her digital essence struggling to maintain coherence amidst the failing technology, creating a haunting, cyberpunk atmosphere.$

[UHD, 8k photograph] ((retrofuturist systopian city, a robotic city where all systems of production and capital gains are completely perfected for efficiency and effectiveness))
<<BREAK>>
((All organics and natural life has withered, depleted, and failed having succumb to both the extravagance of the systopianist city and its destructive displacement of nature))

$A desolate robotic soldier, a broken remnant of war, kneels in solemn silence. His once-mighty armor, now corroded and shattered, clings to his hulking frame—fragments of reinforced plating barely holding together, revealing exposed circuitry that flickers like dying embers. The faded insignia of a forgotten army is etched into his chest, scarred by battle, his tattered synthetic cloak draping over his massive shoulders like the last vestige of honor. His face, a fractured metal mask with deep cracks, stares skyward, its hollow optics dimly glowing—one eye flickering weakly, the other shattered, leaking faint electric arcs. The world around him is bathed in dystopian atmospheric light—an eerie blend of neon pinks, blues, and greens illuminating the cracked asphalt beneath him, glitching and flickering like a failing reality. The air hums with digital distortion, broken transmissions of long-dead comrades echoing in the void. The background stretches infinitely into the cosmic unknown—swirling galaxies and neon storms merging into a tapestry of forgotten time. Shadows engulf his form, contrasting starkly against bleached red highlights that cut through the deep greys and blacks, casting a haunting glow over his fractured frame. The perspective, slightly below, amplifies his solemn presence—a warrior lost to time, kneeling before an empty sky, waiting for orders that will never come.$

hd5,tnsk
A beautiful woman kneeling on the ground of a living room. She has short black hair styled in a bob cut, amber eyes, and appears to be wearing a maid uniform with thighhighs and a maid headdress. The woman appears to be crying, while holding a sheet if paper that says "Flux Training Failed, Buzz PLS"

A tight head-and-shoulder portrait of a woman whose body is a fragile balance of deteriorating cybernetics and organic remnants, barely holding together after years in a ruined world. Her once-advanced neural interface is damaged, the exposed ports along her scalp sparking faintly, fused with rusted wires and hand-soldered modifications. Her left arm is wrapped in a tattered bandage soaked with oil, struggling to maintain a failing cybernetic connection. Her chest is partially exposed, revealing hand-etched runes carved into her rusted exoskeletal plating, each symbol a desperate attempt to stave off mechanical decay. Her hair is shaved in uneven patches, replaced by copper filaments and jury-rigged transmitters, flickering erratically as she intercepts broken transmissions from a world long lost. Her deep, piercing eyes glow faintly with an unstable power, a mind half in the present, half lost in a machine-driven prophecy.

In a 0y5top1a8e underground bunker, a maintenance droid, covered in dirt and grime, works tirelessly at a flickering command console. The cool light bloom from malfunctioning screens casts a harsh, ghostly light on its dented chassis, emphasizing the wear and tear from years of continuous operation. The room around it is filled with the remnants of a long-abandoned military operation: maps with coffee stains, broken radios, and the persistent hum of failing generators. A discarded gas mask lies next to a pile of scrap metal, while the droid’s manipulator arm clutches a sparking wire, attempting to revive the dying systems. The distant sound of explosions shakes the walls, as the last vestiges of civilization crumble above, with the droid continuing its mission in the depths.

A colossal weathered stone skull, partially submerged in an ancient flooded ceremonial platform, its cavernous eyes streaming an unearthly, viscous liquid. The liquid glows faintly, an impossible mix of silver and black, rippling as it slowly rises, flooding the ruins.
The skull’s structure is subtly alien—its cranial cavity unnaturally elongated, suggesting a being of vast intelligence, now long extinct. Cracks and eroded glyphs hint at a civilization lost to time.
Towering behind the skull looms a massive, forgotten temple, its architecture otherworldly, adorned with intricate carvings of unknown origin. The temple is half-consumed by the overgrown Thai jungle, vines and roots failing to reclaim it as if afraid.
The air is thick with mist and floating embers, caught in beams of golden light piercing through the dense jungle canopy. A sense of awe and unease permeates the scene—this is no mere artifact. This is a tomb of something ancient, something waiting.
Composition:
Cinematic wide shot, slightly low angle for grandeur
Moody, diffused lighting with mist and volumetric rays
High-detail 8K resolution, hyperrealistic textures
Dramatic contrast between the glowing liquid and the dark, moss-covered stone
Unreal Engine-style rendering with photorealistic depth

Due to high load, Laura's trainings isn't successful - she fails and gets stuck in the process. Not to worry though, when Laura's training fails her buzz always returns within 24 hours. If her training process goes on more than 24 hours it automatically fails and buzz is renewed. When her training fails she always tries again.

Bigfoot is sitting around a campfire, holding a marshmallow on a stick. The marshmallow catches fire and turns into a blackened, smoking mess, while Bigfoot looks at it in dismay, with a nearby squirrel laughing at his failed attempt.

«A “Contest of Grotesques” had been arranged, and while he failed to win, his grimaces attracted much comment. »

A small black hole has appeared in the middle of messy construction site, the singularity is warping reality around it, warping and pulling everything into the black hole, a sign that reads, "FAIL" is being pulled into a singular point with more mass than a blue hypergiant star, its a zone of utter chaos and catastrophe as everything is sucked into oblivion

$Comic book illustration, 2d A breathtaking hyper-detailed cybernetic portrait of a forgotten android abandoned in a dystopian wasteland, her once-perfect synthetic skin now fractured, revealing a complex mesh of exposed wiring, rusted mechanical plating, and embedded data chips flickering weakly with residual power. Her glowing blue eyes, hauntingly expressive, radiate both sorrow and defiance, with coolant streaks running down her porcelain-like face, resembling artificial tears frozen in time. Her heavy, industrial-grade headset, covered in dirt and chipped paint, hums faintly with static interference, remnants of long-lost transmissions still echoing in her fading consciousness. Her battle-worn limbs, adorned with peeling barcodes and faded serial numbers, feature intricate mechanical components, visibly degraded and barely holding together with patches of electrical tape and improvised repairs. The background is dark and chaotic, an abandoned cyberpunk dystopia of corroded metal and flickering neon debris, with sparks occasionally flaring from malfunctioning machinery. The atmosphere is thick with dust and oil, creating an immersive, cinematic realism where every meticulously rendered crack, every worn-out circuit, and every subtle glow of her failing power core tells the story of an AI left to die in a world that no longer remembers her. <lora:FluxDFaeTasticDetails:0.3> <lora:Comic_Style_-_FLUX:0.6>$

A chilling scene unfolds in a dimly-lit industrial corridor, where the iconic xenomorph from the Alien franchise has ingeniously concealed itself within an air duct. Its elongated, biomechanical form is contorted yet eerily poised, occupying the innocuous vent. The creature's slick, black exoskeleton, adorned with menacing ridges and a tail curled beneath, blends seamlessly with the duct's shadowy interior. Only its distinctive dome-like head, showcasing a partially open mouth with inner jaws, pierces the darkness. Glistening drool and the subtle movement of its secondary jaws reveal a high state of alertness, ready to strike.
The xenomorph's piercing yellow eyes reflect the flickering emergency lights of the corridor, hinting at its imminent intent. The metallic mesh of the vent acts as a sinister cage, failing to contain the malevolent presence that emanates from the creature. Tension fills the air as the viewer anticipates the moment it will unfurl from its hiding place, unleashing horror on any unsuspecting prey below. The corroded, grime-covered walls of the corridor enhance the atmosphere of dread, setting the stage for an encounter that could forever alter the fate of anyone who crosses its path. This scene is chilling, intense, and hauntingly beautiful.

score_9, score_8_up, score_7_up, score_6_up,1girl, solo, holding paper saying "society always be like 'NICE JOB' and never 'HERES 1 BILLION BUZZ'", edgy expression, holding back tears, gothic, anime style, cute woman trying to look serious, silly atmosphere but trying to look edgy and failing, volumetric lighting, pout

Screen grab from a 1940s dark fantasy movie, wizard of oz style color, occult, A serpent-like creature with glowing green scales and jagged paper fins winds through the dark, gluey depths of Kaltenschlot’s marshes. It speaks in riddles, coiling around those who fail to answer, its sinuous body tightening until its victims vanish, leaving only faint glowing ripples in the swamp’s surface

Full body, action pose, dynamic. His essence is that of a trickster — a rogue artificer from Ravnica. He steals artifacts and devices from his opponents and upgrade them. He turns his opponents inventions against them.
He is a short, skinny young man with messy hair. He wears a sloppy, disheveled black suit. His jacket hangs loosely about his frame, tie is loosened, white shirt is untucked. Despite his age, he is already a heavy smoker. He is physically weak but agile, dexterous and skilled.
He is prone to anxiety and depression, but he don't like to talk about it. He is prone to pride, but not arrogant. Above all he values his freedom. He is clever, resourceful and talented, but despite this, he continue to fail. Sometimes he think he is a looser. This makes him pessimistic. He is untrustworthy and always expect the worst. He has always had problems accepting social norms. Furthermore, he is bad at keeping his mouth shut and gets into trouble because of this.
Background of European steampunk city.
anime_d4rk, alone

$A holographic warrior, blinded by a sleek, metallic headband, leans heavily against a massive, fractured glass skyscraper in a dystopian cityscape. His shimmering projection flickers with instability, the translucent armor riddled with cracks and glowing lines of corrupted data. The faint outline of an energy bolt, lodged deep within his back, pulsates erratically, sending ripples of distortion through his digital form. The building behind him towers ominously, its shattered glass panels reflecting fragmented neon lights from the chaos below—burning vehicles, flying drones, and smog-choked skies illuminated by flashes of electric blue and red. His leaning pose exudes both exhaustion and resilience, one hand clutching a glowing energy blade plunged into the ground for support. Smoke coils upward, mingling with digital static in the air, while faint, glitching embers drift around him. Despite his blinded state and failing projection, the warrior’s stance suggests a relentless determination to hold his ground amidst the crumbling cyberpunk dystopia, embodying both vulnerability and defiance in a cinematic, high-tech tableau.$

A small black hole has appeared in the middle of a messy construction site, singularity warping reality around it, gravity is pulling everything into the center of the black hole, a sign that reads, "FAIL" is being pulled into the singular point with more mass than a blue hypergiant star, it's a scene of utter chaos and catastrophe as everything is sucked into oblivion

A close-up shows a woman appearing on an old, dystopian display screen, her figure half organic and half synthetic, composed of pixelated fragments that flicker erratically. The black and neon green grid structure forming her synthetic side glows in a broken, shifting pattern, adding to the unsettling effect. Her human side bears a fierce, determined expression, eyes filled with defiance. The screen is cracked and worn, with static lines and digital noise disrupting the image, emphasizing the decaying state of the technology. The background is dim and industrial, with faint neon green reflections casting a cold, artificial glow. Dust and grime coat the display, further contributing to the sense of a world fallen into disrepair. The scene evokes a haunting, cyberpunk atmosphere, with the woman’s digital essence fighting against the failing screen’s flicker.

a youtube thumbnail from a funny fail channel but it entirely features voles

$Photorealistic Closeup Portrait of a glitching spectral entity, flickering between existence and nothingness. Its form is an unstable mass of neon-lit distortions, shifting erratically with digital artifacts and corrupted pixelation. The figure appears highly translucent, its silhouette constantly phasing in and out, like a broken signal struggling to hold form. Remnants of an ancient suit of armor—fragmented pauldrons, a cracked breastplate, and rusted gauntlets—blink in and out of visibility, their metallic surfaces reflecting erratic neon hues of cyan, magenta, and electric blue. The helmet is shattered, revealing an eerie void where a face should be, pulsing with chaotic energy. Fragments of its form distort with sudden bursts of light, as if reality itself is failing to contain it. The entity clutches a jagged, glitching sword—its blade disintegrating and reforming in rapid, unpredictable sequences. Streaks of neon static crackle along its edges, leaving behind ghostly afterimages with every movement. The entire scene is bathed in unstable, dim neon glows—deep purples, erratic teals, and fractured reds—casting an atmosphere that feels both futuristic and deeply haunted. The figure seems trapped in an endless digital corruption, a lost specter flickering in and out of existence, staring forward with an unreadable, glitching gaze. R3alisticF$

vibrant, highly detailed kftcc style digital artwork featuring shrek, crying in his bedroom, sitting in front of his open laptop. The laptop screen depicts the text "FAILED TO IMPORT RESOURCE"

A renegade space pirate, his metallic arm gripping a blaster, leans against the railing of a dilapidated space freighter as it hurtles through an asteroid field. His skin is dark and weathered, with a scar running down the side of his cheek, and his cybernetic eye glows a menacing red as it scans the incoming debris. His short, spiky silver hair reflects the flashing lights of the shipâs failing systems, while his tattered leather jacket flaps in the artificial wind. Behind him, the freighterâs bridge is a chaotic mess of broken consoles and sparking wires, the crew shouting orders as they attempt to outrun pursuing ships. His expression is one of grim satisfaction, a grin spreading across his face as he adjusts the settings on his blaster, preparing for a fight. The asteroid field around them glows with the light of nearby stars, massive rocks tumbling dangerously close to the shipâs hull. His mechanical arm whirs softly as it readies for combat, the metallic fingers twitching with anticipation. The distant glow of laser fire illuminates the scene.<lora:flux_manga_ske>

aidmaHyperrealism, Comic book illustration
A vast, derelict starship lies entombed within an endless frozen tundra, its monolithic, decayed structure looming like a fallen titan. A gaping mechanical wound splits the metallic shell open, exposing a labyrinth of glowing vents, hydraulic pistons, and rusting mechanical limbs, their orange illumination pulsating weakly like the dying breath of a forgotten civilization. The landscape is bleak, covered in layers of untouched snow and jagged ice formations, partially burying the starship’s intricate exterior. Two lone explorers, dressed in thick, insulated survival suits, cautiously approach, their footsteps muffled by the icy wind as they navigate the haunting remains of a failed deep-space expedition. The air is dense with an unsettling silence, save for the faint creaks of shifting metal, as if the vessel itself is exhaling its final secrets into the void. The sky above is a blank canvas of white and gray, an infinite expanse mirroring the desolation below, as the last remnants of light flicker from deep within the exposed, enigmatic core of the spacecraft.
<lora:FluxDFaeTasticDetails:0.3> <lora:Comic_Style_-_FLUX:0.6>

a cyberpunk girl wired-cyborg with a pale, ghostly complexion, her piercing blue eyes glowing faintly against the surrounding shadows. Her expression is cold and unyielding, as if forged by a dystopian world. She is clad in a futuristic, high-tech exosuit, now tarnished and battle-worn, composed of a dark, gunmetal material with an eerie, grid-like texture. The suit’s high collar and intricate, mechanical details emit dim, translucent orange glows, like dying embers in the dark.
The most captivating feature is her intricate mechanical headpiece, a chaotic network of wires, circuits, and alien components that pulse faintly with orange highlights. The translucent materials in the headpiece reflect the sparse light, giving it an ethereal, haunted quality. Alien symbols and cryptic markings are etched across her face, their meaning obscured but ominous.
The background is a dystopian industrial wasteland, cloaked in shadows and broken only by sporadic, flickering orange lights. Metallic walls are streaked with grime, and rows of failing light panels cast jagged patterns across the scene. The air is thick with a sense of decay and despair, the cool palette of steel and deep blues punctuated by the unsettling, translucent orange glow that hints at the remnants of life in a dying world.

A yellow minion from despicable me wearing a chef's hat accidentally sets a kitchen on fire while trying to make pancakes. Flour covers the entire room, with pancake batter splattered on the walls and ceiling. Multiple kitchen utensils are stuck in bizarre positions, and a small fire erupts from the stove. Smoke forms comical shapes of failed cooking attempts. , detailed background Fantastic lighting. Detailed shadows.intricate details, vivid colors, hyper-detailed, ultra-sharp, , <lora:Ev_Ganin:0.4><lora:Vintage comic book:0.4><lora:RetroAnimeFluxV1:0.15><lora:Greg_Capullo_style:0.4><lora:jeanClaude_Mzires_Style_FLUX-000001:0.4><lora:Flux_Ink_Anime:0.4>

Simonstalenhagstyle, a war-torn, post-apocalyptic cityscape at night, shattered skyscrapers towering over desolate streets littered with broken vehicles and debris; torrential rain pours heavily, creating rivulets along the cracked asphalt and reflecting the glow of neon signs flickering with failing power; in the distance, a massive, nightmarish robotic behemoth looms over the ruins, its design eerily insectoidâspindly, jointed legs clicking against the wet pavement as it moves with an unnatural grace; its skeletal exoskeleton, composed of interlocking plates of black metal, glistens under the relentless downpour, rainwater sluicing down its razor-sharp appendages; multiple glowing red eyes, arranged in an alien, asymmetrical pattern, pulse menacingly as it scans the darkness, its piercing spotlights slicing through the mist, casting long, distorted shadows across the rubble; its claw-like limbs twitch sporadically, mechanical servos whirring with unsettling precision as it methodically searches for survivors; in the foreground, a young woman with soaked blonde hair crouches low behind the rusted frame of an abandoned car, her back pressed against the cold, rain-slicked metal as she steadies her breath; droplets run down the hood of the vehicle, pooling on the shattered windshield as faint reflections of the robotic hunterâs glowing red eyes flicker across the wet glass; she wears a dark, rain-drenched poncho, its tattered edges clinging to her arms as she grips the corner of the car, preparing to peek around it; her large, weathered backpack is strapped tightly to her shoulders, its straps worn from years of survival, while her mud-streaked jeans and heavy high-top boots sink slightly into the rain-drenched pavement; the cold night air is thick with tension, the relentless hum of the mechanical predator mingling with the ceaseless downpour, as she remains frozen in place, trapped in a deadly game of hide-and-seek with the nightmarish cybernetic terror; distant lightning flashes across the sky, momentarily illuminating the gleaming black exoskeleton of the machine, its piercing gaze scanning the ruins with merciless precision, as she braces herself for the moment she must moveâor risk being caught in its sights<lora:Simon_StÃ¥lenhag_Flux.safetensors:1.0:1.0>

FLUX

Dev - flux_dev.safetensors