null filth

    a voluptuous, green-skinned nun in a ripped, filth-streaked habit, her eyes glowing pink as she preaches to a congregation of oozing, slug-like cultists, neon-green slime dripping from her lips as she utters forbidden words, massive corrupted stained glass behind her depicting twisted saints with too many eyes, dungeon punk aesthetic, high-contrast sickly neon colors, bold black outlines, chaotic and gritty texture, occult energy crackling in the air, her exposed tattoos pulsating with forbidden knowledge
    An elaborate Baroque-style oil painting of a high-ranking skeleton warrior, mid-swing with a massive, broken broadsword. Its turquoise, glowing eye sockets blaze with an eerie light, set in a cracked skull. The tattered remains of a leather armor cling to its decayed frame, ripped and battle-worn. The jagged, chipped broadsword arcs through the air with force, as if the warrior is locked in eternal combat. The ornate details of the armor and weapon contrast with the grime and filth covering the skeleton's bones. In the background, the dim, ancient catacombs stretch into darkness, lined with crumbling stone walls and shadows. The scene is dynamic, powerful, and hauntingly majestic. <lora:- Flux1 - vanta_black_V1.0.safetensors:0.75>, <lora:FluxDFaeTasticDetails.safetensors:0.2>, <lora:Elden_Ring_-_Yoshitaka_Amano.safetensors:1.0>, <lora:svgvrs_flx_EliPot.safetensors:0.5>,
    In the dystopian landscape of "Blade Runner 2049," a scene unfolds with an overwhelming, almost oppressive beauty, capturing the essence of a world teetering on the edge of desolation. The setting is a vast, barren expanse—an endless sea of dust and rubble, stretching out to the horizon under a perpetually overcast sky. The air is thick with a fine, ashen particulate that hangs in the atmosphere like a shroud, diffusing the weak, pale light that struggles to break through the dense clouds above. Everything is bathed in a muted, ochre hue, as if the entire world has been sepia-toned, drained of vibrant color, leaving only the remnants of a once-thriving civilization. In the midst of this wasteland stands a lone, monolithic structure—a colossal ruin, the remnants of a bygone era. The building is a hulking, brutalist edifice, its concrete walls cracked and weathered by years of neglect, yet still exuding a cold, unyielding strength. The surface of the structure is pockmarked and scarred, evidence of the relentless assault of time and the harsh, unforgiving environment. Rust streaks down from the edges of exposed metal beams, mingling with the dust that clings to every surface, creating a gritty, almost tactile texture that can almost be felt through the screen. Amidst this desolation, the protagonist, K, stands as a solitary figure—a small, dark silhouette against the massive scale of the decaying structure. His trench coat billows slightly in the faint, gritty wind that sweeps across the landscape, carrying with it the scent of dust and decay. The coat, worn and weather-beaten, is a deep, charcoal gray, its fabric heavy and thick, almost seeming to absorb the light around it. K's face is partially obscured by the high collar of the coat and the shadow cast by the brim of his hat, but the intensity of his gaze is unmistakable—sharp, focused, and filled with a deep, unspoken melancholy. The world around him is eerily silent, save for the distant, almost imperceptible hum of decaying technology—an electric buzz that seems to emanate from the very bones of the ruined city. Occasionally, the silence is broken by the faint echo of a crumbling structure collapsing somewhere in the distance, the sound reverberating through the empty streets like a ghostly reminder of the world that once was. Above, the sky is a swirling mass of dark clouds, moving sluggishly as if weighed down by the pollution and filth of the decaying city below. The sun, barely visible through the thick layer of smog, casts a sickly, orange light that struggles to penetrate the gloom. This light filters down in hazy beams, cutting through the dust and casting long, distorted shadows across the cracked pavement and twisted remains of what were once buildings. The air itself feels heavy, almost viscous, as if every breath drawn is laden with the weight of the world’s slow decay. Each inhale is thick with the acrid taste of metal and smoke, a constant reminder of the toxic environment that K navigates. The atmosphere is so thick with particulate matter that it creates a grainy visual texture, giving the entire scene an almost surreal quality, as if the world is disintegrating before the eyes. As K moves forward, his footsteps crunch against the debris-strewn ground, the sound amplified in the stillness, each step a deliberate, almost laborious effort. The ground beneath him is uneven, a chaotic mix of broken concrete, rusted metal, and shattered glass that reflects the dim light in fractured, glinting shards. Every detail, from the scuffed and worn soles of K’s boots to the small puffs of dust that rise with each step, is rendered with such meticulous precision that it feels as though the scene could be touched, smelled, and heard as much as seen. In this world of decayed grandeur, where every object tells a story of destruction and despair, there is a haunting beauty. The scene is a masterful composition of contrasts—the monumental and the minute, the decaying and the enduring, the silent and the sonorous—each element contributing to an overwhelming sense of a world that is both alien and achingly familiar. It’s a place where the past and future collide, creating a visual and emotional experience that lingers long after the image fades from the screen.
    "Without the coat, her body had a lean look to it — as if she worked too long, and ate too little or too poorly. Her gloves and tall brown boots were caked with the filth of the plant, and she was wearing pants like a man. Her long, dark hair was piled up and back, but two shifts of labor had picked it apart and heavy strands had scattered, escaping the combs she’d used to hold it all aloft."
    Imagine a hyper-realistic scene set in a grimy city alley. At the center, a human-sized fly is depicted large, expressive eyes and delicate, torn wings convey a sense of weariness and distress. The fly is dressed in filthy, damaged clothes that hang loosely, with patches of dirt and tears adding to its disheveled look. It is crouched over a grimy garbage bin, sifting through the refuse in search of food. The garbage bin is overflowing with discarded items and food scraps, and the surrounding alley is littered with debris, broken bottles, and old newspapers, highlighting the squalid environment. Dim, harsh lighting casts deep shadows across the scene, emphasizing the dirt and decay of the setting. The fly’s determined and slightly desperate expression contrasts starkly with the surrounding filth, capturing a poignant moment of struggle and survival in an unforgiving urban landscape.
    A horrifying, ultra-detailed depiction of a monstrous giant buzzard, an unholy nightmare born of decay and malice. Towering and skeletal, its vast, tattered wings stretch across the sky like blackened, diseased shrouds, the jagged edges of its feathers appearing brittle, cracked, and razor-sharp. Its flesh is a grotesque patchwork of sinew and decay—exposed tendons glistening beneath leathery, peeling skin, as if the beast is in a constant state of rot. A terrible stench of carrion seems to emanate from its gaping, serrated beak, jagged and cracked as if gnawed by time itself. Its eyes, monstrous glowing orbs of molten red, radiate an unnatural hunger, locking onto its prey with a horrifying, sentient intelligence. The talons, elongated and hooked like scythes, glisten with an unnatural sharpness, dripping with congealed filth and remnants of past victims. Shadows seem to move unnaturally around the creature, clinging to its skeletal form like a living darkness. The background is a bleak, ruined wasteland suffocated by dense, swirling fog. Skeletal trees stand broken and twisted, their bark flayed like rotting flesh, while the cracked ground below oozes with a black, tar-like substance. The sky above is fractured—an endless abyss of churning storm clouds, flashing intermittently with sickly, unnatural lightning that casts eerie, flickering highlights over the beast’s horrifying form. The air feels oppressive, heavy with an eerie silence, broken only by the distant, bloodcurdling wail of unseen horrors lurking beyond the fog. The entire scene is bathed in an ominous, dim glow—moonlight obscured by thick clouds, casting fragmented, nightmarish shadows that seem to breathe and move. Rendered in FLUX cinematic horror realism, 8K ultra-detail, hyper-realistic horror textures, dynamic volumetric lighting, and grotesque high-fidelity anatomy. Shot with a 50mm cinematic lens at a low, dramatic angle, emphasizing the overwhelming, predatory scale of the beast. Chiaroscuro lighting heightens the unsettling depth, accentuating every gruesome detail, making the nightmare feel disturbingly real. The horror is visceral, immersive, and inescapable.

      FLUX

    • Dev - flux_dev.safetensors