null all unmistakably marked

    A squad of Stormtroopers stands in the foreground, their pristine white armor casting stark, imposing silhouettes against the vibrant hues of a breathtaking orange and pink sunset. The fading light bathes the entire scene in a melancholic, golden glow, with the sky painted in shades of amber, rose, and dusky violet. Their helmets, iconic and expressionless, reflect the sunset’s colors in subtle highlights, making them appear almost surreal—soldiers of an empire standing at the edge of twilight. Their formation is precise, disciplined, exuding the silent menace of enforcers who know only duty. Each trooper grips a blaster rifle, their postures rigid, ever watchful for unseen threats. The soft light glints off their armor, revealing scuff marks and subtle signs of battle wear—evidence of countless missions carried out in the name of order. The lead Stormtrooper, slightly ahead of the others, stands with an air of quiet authority, his visor catching the last rays of the sun. Behind them, mist swirls like creeping fog, shrouding their lower bodies and adding a ghostly presence to the scene. In the distance, the silhouette of a colossal black fortress emerges from the haze, its towering spires faint but unmistakable, standing as a dark and ominous reminder of the Empire’s reach. The air is thick with tension—charged with an unspoken threat—and yet there is an eerie stillness, as if the galaxy itself holds its breath. The warm sunset clashes with the cold, unyielding presence of the Stormtroopers, their rigid forms standing as a bridge between fleeting beauty and the relentless march of control.
    (analog rainy film still taken on polaroid film, vhs footage low quality, Analog distortion effect, Retro video quality) Inside a quaint hotel entrance, a large, rustic key holder stretches across the wall, filled with an array of keys. Each key gleams ominously in the soft light, all unmistakably marked with the haunting number 13. This striking repetition of the number 13 creates a palpable tension in the air, suggesting these keys unlock not just rooms, but sinister secrets. The atmosphere feels charged with foreboding, and faded photographs of long-gone guests hang in the background, their ghostly gazes adding to the discomfort as they silently observe the peculiar sight of the uniform keys marked with the number 13. (analog rainy film still taken on polaroid film, vhs footage low quality, Analog distortion effect, Retro video quality)
    The scene unfolds as a quiet, almost melancholic tableau of solitude and vastness. A lone figure, clad in a vibrant red jacket that stands out against the muted tones of the landscape, walks along a desolate beach, their silhouette small and distant yet unmistakably human. The beach stretches endlessly before them, its surface dark and smooth, like a mirror reflecting the somber mood of the sky above. To the left, a towering cliff rises sharply from the shore, its jagged edges etched into the horizon with an air of ancient mystery. Its imposing presence looms over the scene, casting deep shadows that seem to swallow the light. The cliff’s rugged texture is barely discernible, shrouded in the soft haze that blankets the entire landscape, creating an atmosphere of quiet isolation. In the distance, two colossal rock formations stand sentinel on the horizon, their forms softened by the mist that clings to the air. They rise from the sea like ghostly sentinels, their silhouettes blurred but distinct, adding a sense of depth and scale to the image. The ocean itself is calm, its surface a flat expanse of gray that merges seamlessly with the sky, where clouds drift lazily, diffusing the light into a pale, ethereal glow. The path the figure has taken is marked by a trail of footprints, a thin line of disturbance in the otherwise untouched sand. These tracks lead directly toward the horizon, disappearing into the distance as though inviting the viewer to follow the journey. The contrast between the bright red of the jacket and the cool blues and grays of the surroundings is striking, drawing the eye to the solitary figure and emphasizing their vulnerability amidst the grandeur of nature. The overall ambiance is one of introspection and contemplation. The stillness of the scene suggests a moment frozen in time, where the world seems to hold its breath. There is a profound sense of solitude here, not just for the person walking alone but also for the landscape itself, which appears untouched by the hand of humanity. The vastness of the beach, the height of the cliffs, and the distant rock formations all contribute to a feeling of insignificance, yet at the same time, they highlight the resilience and courage of the individual who dares to traverse such a place. As the figure continues their walk, their purpose remains unclear, leaving the viewer to wonder about their destination or the reason for their journey. The scene evokes a sense of longing and reflection, as if the very act of walking through this desolate beauty is an exploration of inner thoughts and emotions. It is a moment captured in time, where the natural world speaks volumes without uttering a single word, and the human spirit finds solace—or perhaps challenge—in its embrace. j_art, anime, anime art, <lora:FLUX\jul\J_Anime:0.7>, <lora:FLUX\RealAnime:0.7>
    In a vast and moonlit desert, where the sand glows faintly silver under the night sky, a figure of royal might and elvish grace commands the scene. She is the queen of a sun-scorched kingdom, a warrior forged in the heat of her land's trials and the weight of her crown. Draped in a long green cape that sways lightly in the desert breeze, the queen’s silhouette exudes both elegance and power. The cape wraps around her shoulders like a protective mantle, its edges trimmed with intricate embroidery that tells the story of her lineage. The front of the cape is open, revealing her practical yet regal attire: a fitted green shirt and a black tabard adorned with shimmering green ornaments, the patterns reminiscent of lush oases and flourishing life in the heart of the desert. Her legs are clad in sleek black leggings that allow for agility, and her feet are protected by sturdy leather boots, their well-worn surface a testament to many miles traveled across scorching sands. Her arms bear the gleam of iron armor plates that shield her shoulders and gloves, a reminder that she is not only a queen but also a warrior who fights for her people. Around her waist, a leather belt carries satchels and pouches, filled with tools of survival and tokens of her journey. Perched atop her brow is a heavy crown, a symbol of her rule and the burdens she bears. Its design is angular and imposing, crafted from gold and blackened steel, adorned with emeralds that glint faintly in the moonlight. Beneath the crown, her long white hair falls in intricate braids, their silver sheen contrasting beautifully with her deep green cape. Her pointed ears, unmistakably marking her as of elvish descent, peek gracefully through her hair. In her hands, she holds a massive fiery sword, its blade glowing with an intense, otherworldly heat. The weapon pulses faintly, as if alive, its flames casting flickering shadows across her figure. The hilt is ornate, engraved with ancient runes that seem to hum with power. The queen’s hands rest calmly on the guard of the sword, its tip buried lightly in the soft desert sand, grounding her as the fiery glow illuminates her resolute expression. Beside her, a massive lion stands guard, its golden mane rippling like flames in the desert breeze. The creature’s sheer size and presence are awe-inspiring, its glowing amber eyes scanning the surroundings with a protective gaze. Its powerful form radiates both ferocity and loyalty, a living embodiment of the queen's strength and courage. The backdrop is a breathtaking desert scene at night. The vast, rolling dunes stretch into the horizon, their undulating shapes softened by moonlight. In the distance, an oasis shimmers like a jewel in the darkness, its palm trees swaying gently, their reflection dancing on the still waters. The air is thick with the magic of the night, shimmering heat waves blending with the cool serenity of the stars above. The queen’s expression is calm and confident, her presence radiating the wisdom of a ruler and the strength of a warrior. The dynamic interplay of light—her sword’s fiery glow, the moon’s silver touch, and the faint emerald hues of her ornaments—creates a magical and harmonious composition. She stands as the centerpiece of the scene, her pose regal yet grounded, a beacon of hope and authority in the harsh desert. The colors of her attire and surroundings—deep greens, blazing oranges, and tranquil silvers—capture the essence of life persevering in a challenging landscape. This is a queen who embodies resilience, command, and the unyielding spirit of her people, a figure of inspiration in a land as unforgiving as it is beautiful. DB4RZ, g0thicPXL, mythp0rt <lora:FLUX-daubrez-DB4RZ-v2:0.8>, <lora:gopFLUX:0.15>, <lora:artisketchyfs-v02:0.2>, <lora:FluxMythP0rtr4itStyle:0.15>
    Under the soft glow of a moonlit night, she stood as though carved from a dream—a vision of elvish grace and beauty. Her porcelain-pale skin glowed faintly as if kissed by the light of the stars themselves. Rosy hues brushed her high cheeks, and her small button nose bore a natural flush, giving her an air of delicate vitality. Her lips, soft and perfectly shaped, carried a gentle pink hue, inviting thoughts of unspoken poetry and timeless songs. Her hair, as white as freshly fallen snow, was intricately braided with artistry only centuries of tradition could bestow. The silken locks caught the faint starlight, glowing faintly with each turn of her head. Crowned atop her forehead was an exquisitely wrought tiara, its silver threads twisting like the vines of an enchanted forest. Diamonds and rose-colored gems sparkled within its delicate lattice, each stone placed with the precision of elvish mastery. Her long, elegant ears peeked through the shimmering cascade of braids, marking her unmistakable lineage. From her ears dangled teardrop earrings, their rose-colored gems catching and reflecting the faint celestial light. These stones seemed to pulse softly as if holding within them the warmth of a hidden sun. Her gown was no less a masterpiece than the tiara she wore; it flowed like a whisper, a dream woven from sheer pink fabric. This gown, though delicate, carried an aura of regality. Silver filigree wove intricate patterns through its surface, creating shapes and symbols that danced with the slightest motion. Embedded within these designs were tiny gemstones, glittering like dew kissed by the dawn. The gown's high collar framed her neck and chin with refined elegance, its embroidery a tribute to craftsmanship long forgotten by the mortal world. It rose to just below her jawline, enhancing the otherworldly refinement of her features. Every detail of her attire was a testament to beauty, grace, and mysticism as if she were a living embodiment of twilight itself. The scene around her was one of serene majesty—a dark, infinite night sky stretched behind her, its stars scattered like jewels across velvet. The peaceful expanse complemented her presence, adding to the mystical allure of the moment. She seemed almost untouchable, a vision caught between worlds, belonging neither fully to the earth nor entirely to the heavens. Her upper body and face remained the centerpiece of the tableau, capturing all attention with their radiant detail. The soft interplay of silvers, pinks, and whites formed a tranquil, mystical harmony, as though the universe itself conspired to frame her perfection. DB4RZ, g0thicPXL, mythp0rt <lora:FLUX-daubrez-DB4RZ-v2:0.8>, <lora:gopFLUX:0.15>, <lora:artisketchyfs-v02:0.2>, <lora:FluxMythP0rtr4itStyle:0.15>
    A serene atmosphere envelops the medieval fantasy bookstore, where the soft golden light of enchanted lanterns illuminates towering shelves filled with ancient tomes, scrolls, and manuscripts. The wooden shelves, carved with intricate patterns of mythical creatures and ivy, reach upward to a vaulted ceiling painted with frescoes of legendary tales. Dust motes drift lazily through the air, catching the warm glow and adding a mystical quality to the tranquil setting. The faint scent of parchment, ink, and aged leather mingles with the aroma of freshly brewed herbal tea from a nearby corner. At the heart of this literary sanctuary stands the librarian, a man whose mere presence commands respect and admiration. His long golden-brown tuxedo jacket, tailored to perfection, exudes an air of refinement. The fabric shimmers subtly under the lantern light, its surface adorned with intricate golden embroidery that depicts swirling patterns of vines and arcane symbols. The jacket’s hem brushes against his knees, and its sharp lapels frame a matching vest beneath, equally adorned with delicate golden ornaments. His crisp white shirt and neatly knotted black tie provide a striking contrast to the warm tones of his attire. His checkered grey suit pants, tailored with the same precision, feature a subtle pattern that adds depth without overwhelming his ensemble. They taper neatly into his polished brown boots, which gleam with a mirror-like finish, reflecting the warm light of the bookstore. Each step he takes across the polished wooden floor is purposeful, the quiet click of his heels blending harmoniously with the soft rustle of turning pages and the distant hum of magical wards protecting the ancient texts. Long brown hair, combed back meticulously, cascades down his back in a manner both elegant and practical. It frames his distinguished face, where a golden-framed monocle rests comfortably over his left eye. The monocle, engraved with tiny runes that faintly glow, serves as both a tool of his trade and a mark of his scholarly dedication. His piercing gaze, a deep brown flecked with gold, carries the weight of wisdom earned through years of study and devotion to his craft. Around him, the bookstore seems almost alive, as though the shelves themselves recognize his authority. Books slide from their places to hover momentarily in the air before gently settling into his outstretched hand. Scrolls unfurl themselves at his touch, revealing ancient knowledge to be cataloged and preserved. His movements are graceful and deliberate, as if he dances with the very essence of knowledge. The dynamic energy of the scene lies in the interplay between the librarian and his surroundings. A faint golden aura emanates from his figure, resonating with the enchantments woven into the bookstore. Papers flutter softly in the wake of his passing, and quills scribble on their own accord at nearby desks, as though inspired by his presence. The light catches on the golden ornaments of his attire, casting shimmering reflections that ripple like water across the walls and ceiling. Despite the quiet dignity of his profession, there is an unmistakable vibrancy to the librarian. He is not merely a guardian of knowledge but an active participant in its perpetual motion. His expression, a blend of curiosity and quiet pride, hints at an inner passion for the secrets contained within the countless volumes that surround him. The peaceful color palette of golden browns, warm greys, and soft whites enhances the sense of calm, while the subtle glow of magic reminds all who enter this space of the profound mysteries contained within its walls. In this moment, the librarian embodies the harmony of intellect and serenity, a living bridge between the past and future of his magical world. His presence is a testament to the power of knowledge and the dedication required to preserve it—a distinguished figure at the heart of a timeless sanctuary. DB4RZ, g0thicPXL, mythp0rt <lora:FLUX-daubrez-DB4RZ-v2:0.8>, <lora:gopFLUX:0.15>, <lora:artisketchyfs-v02:0.2>, <lora:FluxMythP0rtr4itStyle:0.15>
    The path winds upward, carved through the icy wilderness, its rocky surface half-hidden beneath a thickening layer of snow. Battling against the howling storm, a lone figure strides forward with unyielding resolve—a towering humanoid bear, a creature of strength and determination, as much a part of the wild as the blizzard around him. His fur, a deep and rich brown, is speckled with snowflakes that cling to him like faint stars in the night. His face, unmistakably that of a bear, is both fierce and noble, his dark black eyes gleaming with an indomitable spirit. The powerful contours of his snout and the faint glint of his breath in the freezing air emphasize his primal nature, yet his posture and attire speak of a soul shaped by more than instinct. Draped across his massive frame is a layered brown robe, its coarse fabric weathered by time and the elements, offering protection against the biting wind. Over the robe, a vibrant red tabard stands out boldly, its color a beacon against the storm’s pale fury, symbolizing a deeper purpose or creed that drives him onward. His broad shoulders bear the weight of iron plate armor, their dull sheen catching fleeting glimpses of light, hinting at battles fought and victories earned. His thick arms, exposed to the elements, ripple with strength, the fur there dark and coarse. His gloves are simple yet practical—red cloth bandages wrapped tightly around his massive hands, weathered and frayed but serving their purpose. Similarly, his feet, padded and powerful, are swathed in red and black cloth bandages, their simplicity an echo of his utilitarian existence. Around his waist, a sturdy leather belt holds an array of satchels and bags, their contents hidden but clearly vital to his journey. Each pouch tells a story of preparation and survival, from the tools of a traveler to the secrets of a wanderer’s trade. Resting against his back is a massive, weathered backpack, its frame creaking under the weight of provisions, tools, and untold treasures gathered over years of wandering. Draped over it, a red cape flows in the storm, its edges fraying in the wind, a testament to both his endurance and his defiance of the elements. The snowy mountain looms ahead, its jagged peaks half-hidden in the storm’s embrace. The path climbs steeply, disappearing into the swirling white chaos, a treacherous route marked by determination and resolve. The wind howls, carrying with it a biting chill that would deter most travelers, but the bear strides forward, his form unwavering against the fury of the storm. Snow clings to his garments and fur, his steps crunching through the ever-deepening drifts, each movement deliberate and filled with purpose. The scene is a study in contrasts—the raw, untamed fury of the snowstorm against the calm, steady resolve of the bear. The muted whites and grays of the storm are punctuated by the earthy browns and vibrant reds of his attire, creating a palette that is both peaceful and magical, like a flame burning bright in the heart of a winter tempest. Despite his imposing frame and the harshness of his surroundings, there is a quiet serenity in his presence, an unspoken bond with the wild that speaks of balance and respect. The storm seems to part around him, not out of fear but as if acknowledging him as a kindred spirit, a guardian of the untamed. He is a wanderer, a protector, a symbol of resilience against nature’s most unforgiving trials. The upward climb to the snowy mountain is not just a journey but a reflection of his indomitable will, a tale of strength and purpose etched into the heart of the storm. DB4RZ, g0thicPXL, mythp0rt <lora:FLUX-daubrez-DB4RZ-v2:0.8>, <lora:gopFLUX:0.15>, <lora:artisketchyfs-v02:0.2>, <lora:FluxMythP0rtr4itStyle:0.15>
    A high-intensity anime action scene—A mysterious woman lunges forward through the void, her stance aggressive, her presence overwhelming. Where her head should be, a swirling galaxy churns with raw, cosmic energy—electric blues, vivid pinks, and neon purples flaring like supernovae in the darkness. The glow pulses wildly, casting flickering highlights across her battle-worn, high-collared jacket, its torn edges revealing exposed wires and mechanical plating. Her eyes—if she has them—are lost within the spiraling cosmos, yet her expression is unmistakably menacing. Her body tenses, ready to strike, fingers curled like claws crackling with energy. Her silhouette is wreathed in motion lines, as if the universe itself is bending to her speed. The background is a near-black void, broken only by the shimmering trails of cosmic dust whipping around her. A single red exclamation mark hovers behind her, burning like an omen. The scene is alive with kinetic force—like the moment before an unstoppable attack, frozen in neon-lit intensity.
    A squad of Stormtroopers stands in the foreground, their pristine white armor casting stark, imposing silhouettes against the vibrant hues of a breathtaking orange and pink sunset. The fading light bathes the entire scene in a melancholic, golden glow, with the sky painted in shades of amber, rose, and dusky violet. Their helmets, iconic and expressionless, reflect the sunset’s colors in subtle highlights, making them appear almost surreal—soldiers of an empire standing at the edge of twilight. Their formation is precise, disciplined, exuding the silent menace of enforcers who know only duty. Each trooper grips a blaster rifle, their postures rigid, ever watchful for unseen threats. The soft light glints off their armor, revealing scuff marks and subtle signs of battle wear—evidence of countless missions carried out in the name of order. The lead Stormtrooper, slightly ahead of the others, stands with an air of quiet authority, his visor catching the last rays of the sun. Behind them, mist swirls like creeping fog, shrouding their lower bodies and adding a ghostly presence to the scene. In the distance, the silhouette of a colossal black fortress emerges from the haze, its towering spires faint but unmistakable, standing as a dark and ominous reminder of the Empire’s reach. The air is thick with tension—charged with an unspoken threat—and yet there is an eerie stillness, as if the galaxy itself holds its breath. The warm sunset clashes with the cold, unyielding presence of the Stormtroopers, their rigid forms standing as a bridge between fleeting beauty and the relentless march of control.
    A squad of Stormtroopers stands in the foreground, their pristine white armor casting stark, imposing silhouettes against the vibrant hues of a breathtaking orange and pink sunset. The fading light bathes the entire scene in a melancholic, golden glow, with the sky painted in shades of amber, rose, and dusky violet. Their helmets, iconic and expressionless, reflect the sunset’s colors in subtle highlights, making them appear almost surreal—soldiers of an empire standing at the edge of twilight. Their formation is precise, disciplined, exuding the silent menace of enforcers who know only duty. Each trooper grips a blaster rifle, their postures rigid, ever watchful for unseen threats. The soft light glints off their armor, revealing scuff marks and subtle signs of battle wear—evidence of countless missions carried out in the name of order. The lead Stormtrooper, slightly ahead of the others, stands with an air of quiet authority, his visor catching the last rays of the sun. Behind them, mist swirls like creeping fog, shrouding their lower bodies and adding a ghostly presence to the scene. In the distance, the silhouette of a colossal black fortress emerges from the haze, its towering spires faint but unmistakable, standing as a dark and ominous reminder of the Empire’s reach. The air is thick with tension—charged with an unspoken threat—and yet there is an eerie stillness, as if the galaxy itself holds its breath. The warm sunset clashes with the cold, unyielding presence of the Stormtroopers, their rigid forms standing as a bridge between fleeting beauty and the relentless march of control.

      FLUX

    • Dev - flux_dev.safetensors