null cigarette smoke swirling

    A sultry, cigarette-smoking woman, her face framed by a cascade of dark curls, sits hunched over a dimly lit bar. A worn, emerald green velvet jacket, heavy with the weight of unspoken secrets, drapes over her shoulders. A single diamond earring dangles, a stark contrast to the shadows that cling to her figure. Her eyes, the color of stormy seas, are fixed on a swirling glass of amber liquid, reflecting a swirling tempest of emotion. The bar itself, dimly lit by a flickering neon sign, casts long, theatrical shadows that stretch across the polished mahogany. The air hangs thick with the scent of expensive perfume and stale cigarette smoke, a melancholic symphony of the city's late night. A single, disintegrating rose, crimson and faded, sits on the table before her, a silent testament to a lost love. A worn copy of Hemingway rests beside the glass, as if a whispered answer to her unspoken sorrow. The relentless thump-thump of a jazz bass echoes from the speakers, a soundtrack to silent despair. Her expression, a haunting mix of defiance and desperation, suggests the question: Did love ever truly find her?
    A hyper-realistic close-up of a detective walking down a fog-filled street, his dark silhouette barely visible through the thick mist. The streetlights above cast a faint, golden glow that is diffused by the fog, creating an otherworldly, dreamlike atmosphere. His coat flutters softly in the breeze, with droplets of moisture clinging to the fabric. The background reveals dimly lit storefronts, their neon signs flickering in the mist, adding to the eerie, isolated mood. Realistic highlights emphasize the wet cobblestones underfoot, with soft reflections of the lights shimmering in the puddles. One hand is tucked into the detective’s coat pocket, while the other holds a cigarette, the smoke swirling upward into the fog. The scene is hauntingly quiet, with only the faint echo of his footsteps breaking the silence.<lora:aidmaMJ6.1-FLUX-V0.1:0.6><lora:Movie_Portrait><lora:Flux DetailerV2>
    A sultry, dimly lit 1950s cocktail lounge, cigarette smoke swirling in the air, thick with the scent of bourbon and cheap perfume. A lone, beautiful woman, her face framed by the soft, smoky light, sits at a polished bar, a single, amber-hued drink reflecting the melancholy in her eyes. Her Mafia-style outfit, a tight, black silk dress adorned with delicate gold embroidery, contrasts starkly with the shadowy ambiance. Her lips, a pale crimson, press against the ice in her glass, a silent tremor in her posture revealing a profound heartbreak. A single tear trails down her cheek, a glistening pearl against the harsh shadows. Her expression suggests a desperate longing – her gaze, fixed on an empty space before her, evokes a question: Did love, like a fleeting glimpse of starlight past a window, pass her by? The muted jazz music from a nearby corner fades into the background, a mournful melody mirroring the girl's despair. Each polished surface mirrors the unspoken story etched on her face.
    Psychedelic style A girl hides in a cannabis bush and smokes a cigarette,smoke, . Vibrant colors, swirling patterns, abstract forms, surreal, trippy
    Slow panning shot of a dilapidated Soviet-era factory, focusing on a rusted anthropomorphic robot worker. Camera zooms in on its photorealistic metal face, capturing anxiety and weariness. Emphasize steam rising, cigarette smoke swirling, and conveyor belt creaking. Cinematic lighting highlights metallic textures. Atmospheric, gritty, post-industrial Soviet punk aesthetic.
    A sultry, dimly lit 1950s cocktail lounge, cigarette smoke swirling in the air, thick with the scent of bourbon and cheap perfume. A lone, beautiful woman, her face framed by the soft, smoky light, sits at a polished bar, a single, amber-hued drink reflecting the melancholy in her eyes. Her Mafia-style outfit, a tight, black silk dress adorned with delicate gold embroidery, contrasts starkly with the shadowy ambiance. Her lips, a pale crimson, press against the ice in her glass, a silent tremor in her posture revealing a profound heartbreak. A single tear trails down her cheek, a glistening pearl against the harsh shadows. Her expression suggests a desperate longing – her gaze, fixed on an empty space before her, evokes a question: Did love, like a fleeting glimpse of starlight past a window, pass her by? The muted jazz music from a nearby corner fades into the background, a mournful melody mirroring the girl's despair. Each polished surface mirrors the unspoken story etched on her face.
    A sultry, dimly lit 1950s cocktail lounge, cigarette smoke swirling in the air, thick with the scent of bourbon and cheap perfume. A lone, beautiful woman, her face framed by the soft, smoky light, sits at a polished bar, a single, amber-hued drink reflecting the melancholy in her eyes. Her Mafia-style outfit, a tight, black silk dress adorned with delicate gold embroidery, contrasts starkly with the shadowy ambiance. Her lips, a pale crimson, press against the ice in her glass, a silent tremor in her posture revealing a profound heartbreak. A single tear trails down her cheek, a glistening pearl against the harsh shadows. Her expression suggests a desperate longing – her gaze, fixed on an empty space before her, evokes a question: Did love, like a fleeting glimpse of starlight past a window, pass her by? The muted jazz music from a nearby corner fades into the background, a mournful melody mirroring the girl's despair. Each polished surface mirrors the unspoken story etched on her face.
    Slow panning shot of a dilapidated Soviet-era factory, focusing on a rusted anthropomorphic Cat worker. Camera zooms in on its photorealistic Cat face, capturing anxiety and weariness. Emphasize steam rising, cigarette smoke swirling, and conveyor belt creaking. Cinematic lighting highlights metallic textures. Atmospheric, gritty, post-industrial Soviet punk aesthetic.
    Cinematic Noir & Mystery Dramatic high-contrast close-up, 50mm film noir lens with heavy chiaroscuro lighting. Monochromatic black-and-white tones with a subtle, silken grain. A mysterious woman with piercing eyes and a perfectly sculpted face exhales a thin ribbon of smoke from a cigarette holder, the swirling tendrils catching the slatted light filtering through a half-open Venetian blind. A revolver sits on the mahogany table before her, its polished barrel gleaming under the dim overhead lamp. In the blurred background, the silhouette of a trench-coated figure lingers in the doorway, barely visible through the city’s neon-lit haze. The mood is enigmatic, evoking a timeless sense of danger, seduction, and untold secrets., MysticComic<lora:00-test/UltraDynamic-a5.safetensors:0.5:0.5> <lora:CustomFlux/MysticComic-v3.safetensors:0.5:0.5>
    Slot machine graphics from front view . Disturbing scenes of addiction, people injecting drugs heroin, white powder, drinking alcohol smoking cigarettes. very strange surrealist style with holographic vortex featuring swirls of holotropic colour and glowing eyes wet distorted factory shot. On the television sets are glowing hands, with electricity coming off the finger tips. swirling around
    Psychedelic style A girl hides in a cannabis bush and smokes a cigarette,smoke, . Vibrant colors, swirling patterns, abstract forms, surreal, trippy
    Slot machine graphics from front view . Disturbing scenes of addiction, people injecting drugs heroin, white powder, drinking alcohol smoking cigarettes. very strange surrealist style with holographic vortex featuring swirls of holotropic colour and glowing eyes wet distorted factory shot. On the television sets are glowing hands, with electricity coming off the finger tips. swirling around her head are holograms of glyphs chaos magick symbols. the room has thick electricity cables and smoke is coming off them. large wet glistening slices of wet soggy ham and hot dogs are floating in the air, dripping gooey sauce combining mustard and blood, there are multiple wet hotdogs floating. on the wall in the background are photos of nuclear explosions
    Slot machine graphics from front view . Disturbing scenes of addiction, people injecting drugs heroin, white powder, drinking alcohol smoking cigarettes. very strange surrealist style with holographic vortex featuring swirls of holotropic colour and glowing eyes wet distorted factory shot. On the television sets are glowing hands, with electricity coming off the finger tips. swirling around her head are holograms of glyphs chaos magick symbols. the room has thick electricity cables and smoke is coming off them. large wet glistening slices of wet soggy ham and hot dogs are floating in the air, dripping gooey sauce combining mustard and blood, there are multiple wet hotdogs floating. on the wall in the background are photos of nuclear explosions
    Slot machine graphics from front view . Disturbing scenes of addiction, people injecting drugs heroin, white powder, drinking alcohol smoking cigarettes. very strange surrealist style with holographic vortex featuring swirls of holotropic colour and glowing eyes wet distorted factory shot. On the television sets are glowing hands, with electricity coming off the finger tips. swirling around her head are holograms of glyphs chaos magick symbols. the room has thick electricity cables and smoke is coming off them. large wet glistening slices of wet soggy ham and hot dogs are floating in the air, dripping gooey sauce combining mustard and blood, there are multiple wet hotdogs floating. on the wall in the background are photos of nuclear explosions
    Slot machine graphics from front view . Disturbing scenes of addiction, people injecting drugs heroin, white powder, drinking alcohol smoking cigarettes. very strange surrealist style with holographic vortex featuring swirls of holotropic colour and glowing eyes wet distorted factory shot. On the television sets are glowing hands, with electricity coming off the finger tips. swirling around her head are holograms of glyphs chaos magick symbols. the room has thick electricity cables and smoke is coming off them. large wet glistening slices of wet soggy ham and hot dogs are floating in the air, dripping gooey sauce combining mustard and blood, there are multiple wet hotdogs floating. on the wall in the background are photos of nuclear explosions
    Slot machine graphics from front view . Disturbing scenes of addiction, people injecting drugs heroin, white powder, drinking alcohol smoking cigarettes. very strange surrealist style with holographic vortex featuring swirls of holotropic colour and glowing eyes wet distorted factory shot. On the television sets are glowing hands, with electricity coming off the finger tips. swirling around her head are holograms of glyphs chaos magick symbols. the room has thick electricity cables and smoke is coming off them. large wet glistening slices of wet soggy ham and hot dogs are floating in the air, dripping gooey sauce combining mustard and blood, there are multiple wet hotdogs floating. on the wall in the background are photos of nuclear explosions
    Slot machine graphics from front view . Disturbing scenes of addiction, people injecting drugs heroin, white powder, drinking alcohol smoking cigarettes. very strange surrealist style with holographic vortex featuring swirls of holotropic colour and glowing eyes wet distorted factory shot. On the television sets are glowing hands, with electricity coming off the finger tips. swirling around
    Slow panning shot of a dilapidated Soviet-era factory, focusing on a rusted anthropomorphic old orange Cat worker. Camera zooms in on its photorealistic Cat face, capturing anxiety and weariness. Emphasize steam rising, cigarette smoke swirling, and conveyor belt creaking. Cinematic lighting highlights metallic textures. Atmospheric, gritty, post-industrial Soviet punk aesthetic. The neon signs glow warmly reads "work till you die for Buzz ", creating a nostalgic atmosphere (dynamic lighting:1,0),
    Slot machine graphics from front view . Disturbing scenes of addiction, people injecting drugs heroin, white powder, drinking alcohol smoking cigarettes. very strange surrealist style with holographic vortex featuring swirls of holotropic colour and glowing eyes wet distorted factory shot. On the television sets are glowing hands, with electricity coming off the finger tips. swirling around her head are holograms of glyphs chaos magick symbols. the room has thick electricity cables and smoke is coming off them. large wet glistening slices of wet soggy ham and hot dogs are floating in the air, dripping gooey sauce combining mustard and blood, there are multiple wet hotdogs floating. on the wall in the background are photos of nuclear explosions
    A sultry, cigarette-smoking woman, her face framed by a cascade of dark curls, sits hunched over a dimly lit bar. A worn, emerald green velvet jacket, heavy with the weight of unspoken secrets, drapes over her shoulders. A single diamond earring dangles, a stark contrast to the shadows that cling to her figure. Her eyes, the color of stormy seas, are fixed on a swirling glass of amber liquid, reflecting a swirling tempest of emotion. The bar itself, dimly lit by a flickering neon sign, casts long, theatrical shadows that stretch across the polished mahogany. The air hangs thick with the scent of expensive perfume and stale cigarette smoke, a melancholic symphony of the city's late night. A single, disintegrating rose, crimson and faded, sits on the table before her, a silent testament to a lost love. A worn copy of Hemingway rests beside the glass, as if a whispered answer to her unspoken sorrow. The relentless thump-thump of a jazz bass echoes from the speakers, a soundtrack to silent despair. Her expression, a haunting mix of defiance and desperation, suggests the question: Did love ever truly find her?
    Outside the towering industrial warehouse, bathed in the flickering glow of neon signs and glitching holographic graffiti, a lone patron leans against a rusted metal pillar. The warehouse looms behind her, its jagged, patchwork panels and glowing pipes venting bursts of steam into the cool, smoky night. The muffled thrum of bass-heavy music spills out from within, blending with the faint hiss of distant machinery. She’s a humanoid alien with tentacle horns, her features sharp and angular, with glowing circuitry-like tattoos that pulse faintly along her exposed arms and neck. Her hair, a cascade of synthetic fiber-optic strands, shifts between hues of cyan and violet with every flick of her head. She wears a tattered leather jacket adorned with spiked shoulders and holographic patches, paired with ripped, metallic-thread jeans. In one hand, she holds a glowing plasma cigarette, the vapor swirling in soft, radiant blue before dissipating into the neon-lit air. Her cybernetic fingers tap idly on the cigarette, producing faint metallic clicks as she watches the crowd through piercing, bioluminescent eyes. Occasionally, she exchanges a few words with a crystalline alien nearby, their low, gravelly voice barely audible over the distant hum of the warehouse. Around her, smoke mixes with the mist from glowing vapes, creating an otherworldly haze that frames her rebellious, grunge-futuristic silhouette perfectly. Anime style.
    A sultry, cigarette-smoking woman, her face framed by a cascade of dark curls, sits hunched over a dimly lit bar. A worn, emerald green velvet jacket, heavy with the weight of unspoken secrets, drapes over her shoulders. A single diamond earring dangles, a stark contrast to the shadows that cling to her figure. Her eyes, the color of stormy seas, are fixed on a swirling glass of amber liquid, reflecting a swirling tempest of emotion. The bar itself, dimly lit by a flickering neon sign, casts long, theatrical shadows that stretch across the polished mahogany. The air hangs thick with the scent of expensive perfume and stale cigarette smoke, a melancholic symphony of the city's late night. A single, disintegrating rose, crimson and faded, sits on the table before her, a silent testament to a lost love. A worn copy of Hemingway rests beside the glass, as if a whispered answer to her unspoken sorrow. The relentless thump-thump of a jazz bass echoes from the speakers, a soundtrack to silent despair. Her expression, a haunting mix of defiance and desperation, suggests the question: Did love ever truly find her?
    a dramatic interrogation scene, an overweight police officer in a tight, dark navy uniform leans aggressively over a stark wooden table, his round face flushed with frustration as he shouts, finger jabbing toward the suspect; opposite him, a humanoid cat in a sleek black business suit sits unfazed, exhaling a thin stream of cigarette smoke, its feline eyes half-lidded with smug amusement; the dimly lit interrogation room is drenched in moody, cinematic lighting, a single overhead lamp casting deep shadows across the cracked walls, illuminating the smoke swirling lazily through the air; the officer’s belly strains against his belt, his heavy arms planted firmly on the table, while the cat’s polished claws tap lightly on the wooden surface, exuding an air of cool indifference; cinematic framing captures the heated tension, the stark contrast between the officer’s rage and the cat’s eerie calm, enhanced by a subtle film grain for a noir-inspired aesthetic<lora:KFT_HLA_V2_FLUX.safetensors:0.5:0.5>
    A sultry, dimly lit 1950s cocktail lounge, cigarette smoke swirling in the air, thick with the scent of bourbon and cheap perfume. A lone, beautiful woman, her face framed by the soft, smoky light, sits at a polished bar, a single, amber-hued drink reflecting the melancholy in her eyes. Her Mafia-style outfit, a tight, black silk dress adorned with delicate gold embroidery, contrasts starkly with the shadowy ambiance. Her lips, a pale crimson, press against the ice in her glass, a silent tremor in her posture revealing a profound heartbreak. A single tear trails down her cheek, a glistening pearl against the harsh shadows. Her expression suggests a desperate longing – her gaze, fixed on an empty space before her, evokes a question: Did love, like a fleeting glimpse of starlight past a window, pass her by? The muted jazz music from a nearby corner fades into the background, a mournful melody mirroring the girl's despair. Each polished surface mirrors the unspoken story etched on her face.
    In a forgotten speakeasy bathed in crimson light, a statuesque woman in a razor-sharp tuxedo leans lazily against the bar, a glass of whiskey swirling in her gloved hand. Her platinum blonde bob is cut to perfection, not a strand out of place, her lips painted the kind of deep red that leaves a mark on every cigarette she smokes. The dim lighting catches the subtle iridescent threadwork in her suit, shifting between violet and emerald as she moves. A single, black leather glove rests on the polished bar top, tapping out a slow rhythm as she listens to the band—a jazz quartet that plays like they owe her money. In the corner, figures in dark coats whisper nervously, casting glances in her direction, but she pays them no mind. A pearl-handled dagger sits sheathed at her hip, not hidden but not flaunted—an elegant warning. The bartender, a nervous wreck of a man, refills her glass without being asked, his hands trembling just slightly. She smiles at him, slow and knowing. In this place, she isn’t a customer. She is the storm before the thunder. , 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>

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