null slow breath

A computer. A recording. Not a person. You slow down your breathing, close your eyes and attempt understanding. You can't. You can't: she is stating numbers, and words like anthropometric examination results, audiometry test, cardiovascular check, de-vitrification process. You don' know what they mean. This brings about another emotion: despair. A flash of understanding, despite everything: you are trapped inside some kind of metal tomb, with nothing but a blue light and a recorded voice speaking nonsense for company. This is not where you are supposed to be, this is not right. You are not supposed to be here. The absolute certainty of this weighs down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You sit stock still, the same thought bouncing around the void of your consciousness. The voice goes quiet. The light grows dimmer, slowly, almost imperceptibly. You blink into the descending darkness, still holding on to the plastic edges of your tub. You are not where you are supposed to be. You feel your muscles shake, at first subtly, then with increased force. Holding on is all you can do. Breathing is all you can do. You close your eyes again and try again, grabbing on to this tiny sliver of understanding. You are not where you are supposed to be. You must get out. If you do not get out, you will die. Then it hits you – the reason understanding will not come. You open your eyes again, gasping. Who am I?

A dark alleyway glows in the rain-soaked night as a lone figure in a deep red trench coat leans against a flickering streetlamp, flipping a gold coin between gloved fingers. His storm-gray hair falls messily over sharp, calculating eyes that shine with an electric blue glow beneath the brim of his tilted hat. The long coat sways slightly in the breeze, revealing an all-black tactical suit underneath, complete with silver buckles and a twin set of custom revolvers holstered at his hips. A slow smirk tugs at his lips as he watches a group of would-be tough guys approach, thinking they have the upper hand. The neon signs above cast shifting colors across the wet pavement, reflections of pinks, blues, and purples swirling like oil in water. He exhales a breath of cold air, flicks his coin into the air, and before it even lands, his hands are already moving. , 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>

Jungle: The jungle could be lush with overgrown vines creeping into the room, with vibrant, exotic plants and animals that seem almost too vivid, creating a sense of a hidden paradise that is encroaching on reality.
Sleeping Giant: The giant could be nestled in a forest clearing, with the window view framing its peaceful, colossal form. The giant's slow breathing could subtly move the plants around it, adding a sense of life and scale.
Underwater Realm: An underwater world with fish and coral drifting by as if the room is connected to an ocean or deep-sea environment, giving a sense of otherworldly calm.
Celestial Garden: A view into a garden filled with celestial objects like stars, planets, and nebulae growing like plants, making it feel like the window opens into the cosmos itself.

This image evokes a sense of calm, tranquility, and a touch of surrealism. The minimalist composition and vibrant color palette create a striking and visually appealing scene.

Color Scheme and Tones

Dominant Colors: The image is dominated by a warm, vibrant color palette, with a bright orange sky and a deep blue ocean.

Contrasting Colors: White color provides a striking contrast against the orange sky, drawing the eye to the center of the image.

Muted Palette: The overall color palette is slightly muted, emphasizing the serene and peaceful atmosphere.

Composition

Central Focus: The single fluffy cloud shaped like a dolphin is the central focus of the image, drawing the viewer's attention to the center of the composition.

Symmetrical Balance: The symmetrical arrangement of the sky and the ocean creates a sense of balance and harmony.

Leading Lines: The horizon line leads the eye towards the fluffy cloud shaped like a dolphin, adding depth and perspective.

Textures and Graphic Patterns

Mixed Textures: The image combines various textures, such as the smooth texture of the sky, the rough texture of the water, and the soft texture of the cloud which is in a shape of dolphin.

Graphic Patterns: The patterns created by the ripples in the water and the fluffy cloud shaped like a dolphin adds visual interest and rhythm to the composition.
Unique Artistic Technique (Minimalism and Surrealism)

This image is a prime example of minimalist and surrealist art. The minimalist approach, with its focus on simplicity and essential elements, creates a sense of calm and tranquility. The surreal element of the single fluffy cloud shaped like a dolphin in the vast sky adds a touch of mystery and wonder, inviting the viewer to contemplate the vastness of the universe.

Important Details

Symbolism: The cloud in a shape of a dolphin could symbolize various things, such as dreams, aspirations, or the fleeting nature of life.
Surrealism: The image is slightly surreal, with the single fluffy cloud shaped like a dolphin contrasting with the vast expanse of the sky and ocean.
Atmosphere: The serene and peaceful atmosphere invites the viewer to relax and contemplate the beauty of nature.
Overall Interpretation

This image is a captivating and thought-provoking piece of art that invites the viewer to appreciate the simple beauty of the natural world. The minimalist composition, vibrant colors, and surreal touch create a visually stunning and emotionally resonant image. It encourages viewers to slow down, take a breath, and appreciate the beauty of the moment.

$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.$

In a derelict cathedral overrun by nature, a rogue with long, ragged red hair and a scar running across his cheek hangs from a broken chandelier, firing a pistol down at the undead that swarm below. His clothing is tattered and patched, a mix of leather and steel plates scavenged from a world in ruins, and his breath comes in sharp, determined gasps as he swings from his precarious position. The cathedral itself, once a place of reverence, is now a decaying monument to a forgotten time, its stained-glass windows shattered, letting in beams of moonlight that illuminate the overgrown pews and altar. The zombies, slow and mindless, claw at the crumbling stone walls, their moans echoing through the vaulted ceiling as they try to reach him. Vines creep up the pillars, and the scent of damp earth fills the air, blending with the stench of decay. Above him, the moon hangs low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow on the scene, while distant howls suggest that more dangers are on the way. His fingers tighten on the trigger, each shot carefully aimed as he tries to clear a path to the shattered stained-glass window, his only escape route. The scene is filled with tension and fast-paced action, a desperate battle in a world where survival is a fleeting hope.<lora:MysticFantasy>

A white polar bear sitting on a train seat, looking out of a window that has "Miss you already?" and a heart symbol written on it, while the polar bear gently turns its head slightly to the left, then back to its original position, and its chest very slowly rises and falls to show its breathing, the background moves slowly with the train. emphasize the slight head motion, gentle breathing, and slow background movement. The overall atmosphere is thoughtful and wistful.

A hyper-realistic portrait, photorealistic photo close-up image of In the eerie stillness of a fog-covered moor, a knight bearing the red rose emblem on his shield stands his ground against a towering wraith, its ethereal blade slicing down toward him. The wraithâs sword, shimmering with dark magic, meets the knightâs shield with a hollow, otherworldly sound, the impact sending ripples of energy through the air. The knight, his armor dull from the damp fog, holds his shield firm, the rose emblem glowing faintly with an inner light that pierces the thick mist. Around them, twisted trees loom like specters, their gnarled branches clawing at the air as the fog swirls in slow, unnatural patterns. The wraithâs hollow eyes burn with malevolent intent, its form shifting and flickering like smoke, yet the knight remains unmoved, his stance solid as stone. His sword is ready, gripped tightly in his other hand, its blade reflecting the faint moonlight that struggles to break through the fog. The air is cold and heavy, filled with the quiet whispers of the dead, but the knightâs focus is unwavering, his breath steady despite the chill. The red rose on his shield is a vivid contrast to the pale, ghostly surroundings, a symbol of life and defiance in a land dominated by death. Each moment hangs in the balance as knight and wraith are locked in a battle of will and strength, their clash echoing across the desolate moor.(photography, high-resolution, dynamic, energetic,hyper-realistic, dramatic lighting, shallow depth of field.), MythP0rt<lora:DnDDarkestFantasy:0.5><lora:FluxMythP0rtr4itStyle:0.75><lora:Dever_Flux_Enhancer:0.5><lora:Aura_Flux-000010:0.6>

Cinematic wide shot of a swirling void, where ghostly faces emerge from thick, roiling fog. Each face is stretched and distorted, mouths frozen in silent, gaping screams, and hollow eyes lost in anguish. The faces seem to form from the mist itself, half-visible and dissolving at the edges, as if struggling to fully escape the darkness. Their surfaces are cracked and faded, shifting between pallid whites and shadowy grays, with faint veins pulsing underneath, hinting at lingering traces of life. The fog wraps around their features like sinewy threads, pulling them together into a haunting tapestry of sorrow and torment. Black, oily fluid leaks from open mouths and empty sockets, vanishing into the fog below. Above, the black sun eclipse looms ominously, its dim crimson glow piercing through the swirling mist in sporadic beams. Streaks of red lightning flicker through the air, briefly illuminating the horrific details of the contorted faces before fading back into darkness. The fog is alive, pulsating with a slow, rhythmic motion, as if breathing, and faint whispers seem to echo within it—fragmented words of fear and despair. The scene is dominated by deep shadows and muted whites, with sinister accents of blood-red and black, creating an atmosphere of profound dread and surreal horror. Inspired by psychological terror and the liminal space between life and death, the image evokes a sense of haunting beauty, as though the fog itself harbors the collective fears of lost souls.

In a stormy wasteland where lightning forks across a sky of swirling black clouds, a towering figure with dark obsidian skin stands chained to a crumbling stone pillar. His eyes, glowing like molten lava, burn with an ancient, untamed power, even as his tattered cloak whips wildly in the wind. His muscular arms, bound by thick iron chains, strain against his restraints, while deep scars trace patterns across his skin, glowing faintly in the darkness. Surrounding him, the ground is cracked and scorched, with jagged rocks jutting up like the teeth of some long-dead beast. In the distance, colossal tornadoes twist and howl, throwing up clouds of ash and debris into the air, as lightning crackles ominously overhead. His long, black hair flows wildly in the tempest, and his breath comes in slow, heavy exhales, visible in the cold air. Behind him, a distant, shattered mountain looms like a broken sentinel, framed against the chaotic sky. The atmosphere is thick with the smell of sulfur and ozone, as the ground trembles with the distant rumble of thunder. This scene captures a moment of defiance against an unforgiving world, with raw power and elemental fury swirling all around.<lora:RetroAnimeFluxV1:0.5><lora:NeonFantasyFLUX:0.3><lora:RetroAnimeFluxV1:0.5><lora:NeonFantasyFLUX:0.3>

FurFemX. A white-furred fox woman, crowned with jagged ice, stands atop a colossal frozen throne, overlooking a boundless expanse of crystalline icebergs. Her breath curls in the frigid air, and her sapphire eyes radiate an otherworldly glow as she raises a hand, summoning a swirling blizzard. Ice wolves made of translucent frost prowl at her feet, their eyes shimmering like frozen stars. The sky above glows with the eerie lights of an eternal aurora, casting ghostly reflections on the mirror-like ice. Snowflakes dance in slow motion, each one unique and shimmering in the pale moonlight.

<lora:Dark Cinematic:0.5> DRK
A tense, cinematic scene of a soldier clad in dark tactical gear, his face obscured by a heavy-duty gas mask with fogged-up lenses. He grips a worn rifle tightly, its barrel slightly raised as he moves cautiously through the narrow, decaying hallways of a post-Soviet apartment building. The dim, flickering overhead lights cast long shadows, barely illuminating the peeling paint on the walls, exposing layers of faded colors and crumbling plaster.
The air is thick with dust, disturbed by his slow, deliberate footsteps on the grimy, debris-covered floor. Old Soviet-era posters hang tattered on the walls, their messages long forgotten. Rusted pipes run along the ceiling, some dripping, creating a faint echo that blends with the distant creaks of the aging structure. Faint graffiti in Cyrillic is scrawled across the walls, remnants of past occupants.
The soldierâs breathing is audible through the mask, adding to the suffocating atmosphere. His head tilts slightly as he listens for movement, the silence only broken by the occasional distant thud or the sound of wind howling through broken windows. The hallway ahead disappears into darkness, an eerie unknown that looms in front of him as he takes another careful step forward.

JunjiIto.hanna stands frozen against a bold, high-contrast crimson-red backdrop, her long, dark hair clinging to her pale skin in damp, disheveled strands. Sleepy, half-closed eyes, encircled by deep bruised shadows, stare hollow and vacant, six days without rest carving an unsettling emptiness into her expression. Black tape seals her mouth shut, the silence suffocating as creeping vines of *Cissus discolor* slither over her body, their dark purple, almost black leaves streaked with silver veins. The tendrils coil around her arms, snake across her neck, and burrow beneath her oversized dark overcoat, invading the folds of her traditional Japanese school uniform. Twisting with unnatural precision, they tighten over her chest, constrict her waist, and slither down her legs, binding her in place with a slow, merciless grip. The velvety leaves pulse with an eerie stillness, their suffocating hold intensifying with each shallow breath, pressing into her skin like living shackles. The red glow from the background bathes her figure, reflecting off the curling vines, staining her ghostly complexion with an ominous, blood-tinted hue. Shadows stretch across her form, deepening the surreal horror as the nightmarish tension coils tighter, holding her in a silent, suffocating embrace. (( Illustration by Frank Frazetta, drkfnts style, spectral glow, chromatic grain, By Donna Young, j_art))

Seated atop a throne of writhing, living roots, a humanoid figure with bark-like skin and clusters of glowing mushrooms growing from their shoulders holds an enormous tome titled How to Breathe in a World Without Air. Their elongated fingers, gnarled like ancient branches, gently trace the bookâs embossed cover, which appears to pulse faintly, as if alive. The forest around them is unlike any other, its trees inverted, with roots sprawling into the sky and leaves dripping upward like liquid gold. Fireflies with multiple, blinking eyes hover in the air, casting an eerie green glow over the moss-covered throne. A soft, melodic hum seeps from the bookâs pages, resonating with the rhythm of the readerâs slow, measured breathing. The night sky above is filled with luminous jellyfish swimming through the void, their tendrils crackling with static energy. Twisting vines coil around the readerâs legs as if listening, eagerly awaiting the secrets within the bookâs cursed pages. A warm, damp mist rises from the ground, carrying the scent of damp earth and something impossibly old. Though the figureâs face is expressionless, their glowing, amber eyes flicker with a deep, unsettling understanding. , detailed background Fantastic lighting. Detailed shadows.intricate details, vivid colors, hyper-detailed, ultra-sharp, , , <lora:FluxMythR3alisticF><lora:PCB_Image_Enhancer_for_FLUX:0.35>

As the sun dips below the horizon, the harbor town is bathed in hues of gold, amber, and deep violet. The sky transforms into a mesmerizing blend of fiery oranges fading into cool purples, reflecting on the calm waters below. Gentle lantern lights flicker along the cobblestone streets, while people enjoy the cool evening breeze at waterfront cafés. In the distance, a musician strums a guitar, filling the air with soft melodies. The water shimmers like liquid gold, mirroring the lanterns' glow. The entire scene feels like a dreamy, timeless moment of peace, where the world slows down and breathes in the last warmth of the day. Anime, Niji, citybkg, VibrantlySharp style., Anime art

Midnight in an Icelandic Lava Field
"Under a sky thick with swirling northern lights, the blackened lava fields stretch endlessly in all directions. Steam rises in ghostly tendrils from fissures in the earth, carrying the scent of sulfur and something older, something forgotten. A lone wooden sign, its paint faded and peeling, stands at the edge of a winding path, pointing to nowhere in particular. In the distance, beyond the craggy horizon, a faint red glow pulses beneath the surface—slow, rhythmic, as if the land itself is breathing."

Amidst a scorched and unforgiving realm of molten fury, a lone elven warrior stands as an unyielding sentinel of fire and death. The ground beneath her feet is cracked and broken, with rivers of molten lava weaving through the obsidian terrain like veins of liquid flame. The air shimmers with unbearable heat, distorting the jagged cliffs and hellish landscape that rise in the distance. Towering plumes of smoke claw their way into the crimson sky, while embers swirl like dying stars caught in an eternal descent. Yet, amidst this infernal chaos, the figure of the elven warrior stands motionless, a dark and formidable presence carved from shadow and flame.
Her skin is deep crimson, as if it were kissed and tempered by the fires of this very realm. It gleams faintly in the dim, hellish light, a stark contrast to the white cascade of hair bound tightly into a massive ponytail that falls like a silver waterfall behind her. Her face is sharp and grim, her features hardened by countless battles, with no trace of warmth or mercy. Piercing red eyes glow like embers beneath a furrowed brow, their fire burning with cold, lethal intent. They seem to cut through the sweltering haze, fixating on an unseen foe, daring them to challenge her dominion.
Her armor is a marvel of dark artistry, forged from blackened steel and tempered with the very essence of blood-red fire. Each plate is massive and intimidating, inspired by the ancient designs of the Japanese samurai, yet twisted into something more sinister and otherworldly. The intricate detailingâpatterns of dragons, fire, and thornsâembellish the overlapping layers of the armor, etched in glimmers of deep red. Its jagged edges and sharp ridges evoke a sense of feral power, as though the armor itself hungers for battle. Thick armored gauntlets encase her hands, their joints reinforced to hold the colossal weapon she commands. The shoulder pauldrons extend outward like the wings of a demon, casting shadows that dance upon the burning ground.
In her grasp rests an immense, towering greatswordâits blade forged from the same dark red and black metal as her armor, as if it had been pulled from the depths of a volcanic forge. The weapon is impossibly massive, the edge jagged and cruel, humming faintly with the low vibrations of destructive energy. The hilt is wrapped in dark leather, its guard angular and ornate, designed to resemble curling horns of fire. Though it rests with its tip buried in the cracked, steaming ground, the sword exudes a weighty menace, a promise of annihilation with every swing. Her hands, gloved in obsidian gauntlets, rest calmly upon the guard, her posture unwavering like a fortress of flesh and steel.
The ground around her crackles, heat rising in waves that distort her silhouette like a mirage, yet her figure remains solidâunyielding, unstoppable. Behind her, the lava landscape pulses with life, its rivers glowing a molten orange as they surge and spill across the ruined earth. Fiery geysers erupt in the distance, sending sparks spiraling into the heavy, ash-filled sky. Sharp, jagged cliffs frame the scene like the ribs of a dead god, their surfaces glistening with molten veins that seem to bleed from within. The harsh red and black tones of the scene envelop the warrior, yet she does not fade into the backgroundâher aura seems to draw the fire toward her, as if the very earth recognizes her as one of its own.
The wind carries with it the scent of sulfur and burning rock, whipping her hair and cape into slow, deliberate motion. The massive ponytail sways like a silver banner, a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounds her. Flickers of glowing embers rise and die at her feet, carried on the invisible breath of the volcanic plain. Her armor gleams faintly in the firelight, its reflective surfaces broken only by the scorched shadows that play across her form. Every line of her body radiates strength, discipline, and a warriorâs resolveâa being forged from war itself.
The composition of the scene is one of dark majesty, as the elf commands the viewerâs attention. She is a pillar of strength amidst the infernal chaos, a conqueror who has claimed this fiery hellscape as her own. The dynamic interplay of the glowing reds and deep blacks paints a world that is both vibrant and menacing, while the harsh shadows cast by her form emphasize her power and unshakable presence. It is as though she exists outside of time, eternally standing guard over this molten realm, a grim and beautiful warden of destruction.
In this moment, the elven warrior is not just a figure in the landscapeâshe is the very embodiment of its fury and its beauty. A sentinel of flame, forged by the fires of war and bound by her unrelenting will, she stands unmoving in the face of oblivion, a silent warning to any who dare challenge her dominion.
DB4RZ, g0thicPXL, mythp0rt
<lora:FLUX-daubrez-DB4RZ-v2:0.8>, <lora:gopFLUX:0.15>, <lora:artisketchyfs-v02:0.2>, <lora:FluxMythP0rtr4itStyle:0.15>

A hyper-realistic portrait, photorealistic photo close-up image of A close-up portrait of an elderly dragonborn woman with deep, scarlet scales and fiery orange eyes, her clawed hand reaching toward a glowing object made of molten lava. Her scales shimmer in the dim light of a volcanic cave, where the air is thick with heat and the scent of sulfur. She wears a strange armor made of black obsidian, with intricate designs etched into the volcanic rock, and a horned helmet rests atop her head, glowing faintly from the heat. The object floats in the air before her, its surface constantly shifting between liquid and solid, dripping magma onto the blackened stone floor below. Her gaze is focused and intense as if sheâs communing with the object, her breath coming in slow, measured bursts that match the rhythmic pulse of the molten object. Around them, streams of lava flow through the cracks in the stone, casting a fiery glow across the cave walls. As her hand inches closer to the object, the cave rumbles slightly, as if the very mountain is responding to her presence. (photography, high-resolution, dynamic, energetic,hyper-realistic, dramatic lighting, shallow depth of field.), detailmaximizer, MythP0rt<lora:midjourney_whisper_flux_lora_v01:0.55><lora:aidmaMJ6.1-FLUX-V0.1:0.4><lora:FluxMythP0rtr4itStyle:0.4><lora:detailed_flux_ntc:2.2><lora:aidmaImageUpgrader-FLUX-V0.1:0.65>

In the heart of a vibrant, mystical forest, a female elf druid stands as one with nature itself. Her presence exudes a quiet yet powerful energy, as if the very earth beneath her feet recognizes her as its guardian. Her long, wavy white hair flows gracefully down her back, a soft hint of green woven throughout like the first tender shoots of spring. The strands almost reach the floor, glistening like silver threads touched by the light of the forest's canopy above. Each movement she makes seems to command the wind itself, sending the delicate green leaves swirling gently around her, as if the forest is greeting her with its own silent applause.
Her skin is flawless, pale as moonlight and imbued with an otherworldly beauty that speaks of her deep connection to the natural world. Her face is serene, delicate, and youthful, framed by the cascade of silvery-green hair that dances in harmony with the air around her. Eyes, the color of the forestâs deepest glades, shimmer with the wisdom of centuries, full of quiet strength and the promise of secrets known only to the ancient trees.
The druidâs attire is a breathtaking testament to her bond with nature. The dress-like outfit is a masterwork of natural design, woven with leaves, vines, and the very essence of the forest. It fits her form perfectly, hugging her body while flowing elegantly with the movement of the wind. The fabric itself seems alive, as if itâs crafted from the forest itself, with soft green tones fading into deeper hues of moss and emerald. The leaves form intricate patterns that accentuate her slender figure, the lightness of the fabric dancing in harmony with the breeze. The high cut of the front reveals the delicate outline of her legs, while the dark brown leggings beneath add an earthy contrast to the greens of her ensemble.
Her shoulders are bare, as if she is shedding the weight of civilization to stand freely among the wilds she protects. The shoes, inspired by the very leaves she steps upon, are high-heeled and elegant. They seem almost sculpted from the foliage itself, their curves delicate yet bold as they lift her into a graceful stance. Each step she takes is a testament to her seamless unity with the environment, her feet as light as the fallen leaves around her.
As she stands in the forest, the air around her shimmers with life. Green leaves fall softly around her like a gentle rain, swirling in the air in delicate spirals before settling onto the forest floor. In the surrounding space, glowing green particles like fireflies flicker and dance, creating a soft ethereal glow that illuminates the scene. The particles seem to be drawn to her, their radiant light flickering in time with her calm and deliberate movements, as if she herself is the source of their magic.
The lush forest around her is alive with energy and color. Towering ancient trees stretch their gnarled branches toward the heavens, their leaves rustling in the gentle wind as the sunlight filters through in golden shafts, creating a serene atmosphere that feels untouched by time. The ground beneath her feet is a carpet of moss and ferns, soft and fragrant, while the distant sound of a river weaving its way through the terrain can be heardâits waters sparkling in the sunlight as it meanders through the verdant expanse, carving paths between rocks and trees.
The druidâs presence is an embodiment of peace and harmony, her connection to the world around her so profound that it is as if the very elements bend to her will. Her arms, raised slightly in a gentle, fluid motion, seem to weave spells that are as old as the earth itself, summoning the forces of nature with a grace that only a true child of the forest could possess. Her aura is calm, yet unyielding, like the river that flows through the forestâquiet, persistent, and full of life.
The scene is peaceful, yet charged with an underlying sense of ancient power. There is a perfect balance in this moment, as though time itself has slowed to watch this elven druid in her sacred domain. The soft whispers of the wind through the leaves, the distant murmur of the river, and the ethereal glow of fireflies combine into a symphony of natureâs purest essence. The color palette is rich in shades of green, the peaceful tones evoking the serenity of the forest, while the occasional glint of sunlight through the trees adds a touch of magic and warmth.
This elven druid is not just a guardian of the forest, but an embodiment of natureâs enduring beauty and strength. In her, the forest lives and breathes, and every leaf that falls, every firefly that glows, is a reminder of the deep, unbreakable bond she shares with the land she protects.
DB4RZ, g0thicPXL, mythp0rt
<lora:FLUX-daubrez-DB4RZ-v2:0.8>, <lora:gopFLUX:0.15>, <lora:artisketchyfs-v02:0.2>, <lora:FluxMythP0rtr4itStyle:0.15>

An ultra close-up portrait of a woman’s face, filling the entire frame, leaving no visible background. Her skin is not flesh but an intricate mosaic of delicate, small stained glass panels, each piece a shimmering array of sapphire blues, fiery oranges, and amethyst purples. The glass is smooth, flawless, and seamlessly fitted, reflecting soft, ambient light that dances across the curved contours of her cheeks, nose, and brow. Her eyes are pure liquid gold, shifting and flowing like sunlit honey, glowing faintly from within. The light inside her irises moves hypnotically, creating a mesmerizing sense of depth. Each blink is slow and deliberate, as if time itself lingers in her gaze. Her lips are translucent, infused with deep ruby and amber hues, their surface polished like molten glass. When she parts them slightly, the sound of wind chimes fills the air, delicate and melodic, as though her breath carries a faint celestial resonance. The stained glass panels shift in tone as light passes through, casting fleeting reflections of color onto her own features. Tiny, golden filaments run along the edges of each glass piece, forming an intricate network of organic, vein-like patterns that pulse faintly, as if carrying a hidden energy within. The soft glow from within her face creates a dreamlike, ethereal quality, giving the impression that she is not entirely of this world—part divine artifact, part living being.

$Beneath the golden light of a dying sun, three tigers stand as silent sentinels of a world slipping away. Their den, once a sanctuary deep in the jungle, now lies in the shadow of a relentless industrial invasion. Smoke rises in thick, curling plumes from the factory in the distance, its skeletal towers clawing at the sky, tearing into the land that once belonged to them. The river, which once mirrored the heavens in its crystalline depths, now runs thick with chemical waste, its surface shimmering with a sickly iridescence. Overhead, an unfeeling drone hovers, its cold mechanical eye locked onto them, reducing the last great beasts of the wild to mere data. At the forefront stands the male tiger, a magnificent creature of sheer power and untamed beauty. His broad shoulders ripple with muscle, and his thick, flowing mane—a rarity among his kind—catches the last golden light, each strand a testament to the strength of his lineage. His amber eyes burn with defiance as he lifts his gaze toward the drone, the artificial intruder dissecting his very existence with a lifeless stare. His breath is slow, steady—he does not run. He does not cower. He simply watches, daring the machine to look upon him and understand what it has come to destroy. To his left, a tigress crouches low against the withering jungle undergrowth. Her sleek, battle-hardened body is coiled with tension, her muscles taut beneath her striking orange and black pelt. Her ears flick at the distant roar of machines, her sharp eyes flickering between the drone above and the poisoned river below. A soft growl rumbles in her throat, a sound both protective and mournful. She remembers when the air was filled with the scent of fresh rain and earth, not the acrid tang of steel and smoke. Partially concealed within the den’s darkened entrance, the eldest tigress lingers like a specter of the past. Her once-flawless coat bears the marks of countless battles—not just against prey, but against time, hunger, and the encroachment of man. Scars lace her form, silent records of a world that no longer belongs to them. Her gaze drifts past the factory, beyond the fading jungle, to where the land once stretched unbroken and free. She does not need to see the future to know what is coming—she has already felt it in the quiet disappearance of the herds, in the strange hum of machines replacing the songs of the forest. The composition of this piece is breathtaking, an emotional contrast of power and vulnerability. The warm, golden hues of the tigers' fur stand against the lifeless grays and metallic tones of the factory. Smoke and sunlight intertwine in the sky, a battle of nature versus progress. The river, both beautiful and tragic in its shimmering toxicity, winds like a dying vein through the heart of this fractured world. The drone, a symbol of human detachment, looms overhead—watching, recording, but never truly seeing. This is more than a depiction of endangered creatures. This is a moment in time, a visual elegy for all that is being lost. The tigers stand together, not just as individuals, but as a fading lineage—an echo of a wildness that once roamed without boundaries. In this frozen moment, they remain majestic, untamed, unbroken. But for how much longer? Simon Stalenhag Style, v3lkat0k$

An enigmatic composition bathed in soft, diffused light, blending whispers of surrealism and melancholia. The scene unfolds in a cinematic atmosphere where subtle textures and delicate grains add depth, while the interplay of light and shadow enhances the quiet intensity of the moment. A subdued color palette merges with ethereal haze, evoking a dreamlike quality and timeless stillness. The central subject – "The Sky Pillow Island": An island suspended in a golden sky, its surface covered entirely in oversized, pillowy structures that puff up and down like slow, breathing lungs. Little creatures shaped like plush toys bounce softly across the surface, leaving faint trails of sparkling dust. A floating boat made of velvet drifts gently around the island, its sail a billowing patchwork quilt. – is delicately framed, their presence balanced between mystery and intimacy. Surrounding elements, rich in symbolic undertones, anchor the narrative in an otherworldly context. Organic details like softly swaying flora or faintly glowing surfaces contrast with stark, haunting figures, creating a juxtaposition that is both poignant and surreal. The composition invites introspection, with negative space amplifying the mood's resonance. Every detail, from the atmospheric depth to the muted highlights, serves to craft an image that feels suspended in an emotional, poetic realm. surreal style

A gripping, suspense-filled scene of a female assassin concealed in the shadows of a grand royal palace corridor, her body pressed tightly against a marble column as she evades detection by patrolling guards. Her dark clothing melds into the dimly lit surroundings, her silhouette barely discernible against the intricate, gilded patterns on the walls. Her posture is tense but controlled, every muscle coiled for stealth.
The assassinâs face is partially obscured by the hood of her sleek, black outfit, but her sharp eyes peek out, locked on the guards as they approach. Her breathing is slow and deliberate, visible in the faint mist of the cool palace air. She grips a dagger tightly, its blade reflecting the faint glow of a nearby wall-mounted torch, but keeps it close to her body to avoid catching the guardsâ attention.
In the distance, the guardsâ boots clatter loudly on the polished marble floor, their synchronized movements echoing through the high-ceilinged corridor. Their ceremonial armor, gleaming with gold and silver accents, glints ominously in the flickering torchlight as they move in a tight formation. One guard turns his head slightly, his gaze sweeping dangerously close to her hiding spot, heightening the tension.
The hallway is steeped in regal opulence: towering arched windows with heavy velvet drapes let in only slivers of moonlight, while ornate tapestries and carved stone moldings line the walls. A grand chandelier hangs overhead, its crystal pendants casting fragmented patterns of light across the room. The shadows of the guards stretch long and distorted on the floor, creeping toward the assassinâs hiding place.
The assassinâs entire presence is shrouded in stealthâher black leather gear, lined with faint matte details to absorb light, and her soft-soled boots that allow her to move silently when the moment comes to slip away or strike. The suspense lingers as the guards pass within inches of her position, unaware of the danger lurking just out of sight.
<lora:ume_classic_romantism:1> romantic <lora:oil_test3_flux:1> ggg

$masterpiece, high-quality, A sultry vampiress leans forward, her crimson eyes glowing faintly as the camera captures her from an intimate close-up, framing her sharp, angular features against a blurred backdrop of glowing, shattered stained glass. Her short, raven-black hair catches the dim, pulsing red light from a distant eclipse, while faint sigils etched into her collarbone glow faintly, shifting in rhythm with her slow, deliberate breath. The hyperdetailed texture of her pale skin and the soft, radiant glow of the sigils contrast sharply with the jagged, chaotic reflections scattered in the background, <lora:FLUX\Anime v1.3:0.5> <lora:FLUX\FluxMythAn1meL1nes:0.6> <lora:FLUX\Midjourney_-_SemiReal_Dreams_FLUX_LoRA:0.5> <lora:FLUX\DarksunRiddV4:0.6>$

$A breathtaking vision of an otherworldly library, its grandeur both awe-inspiring and slightly unsettling. The perspective is from behind a solitary figure, cloaked in a dark, flowing garment that billows around them as if caught in the currents of an unseen wind. This person stands on a wooden platform, their back turned to the viewer, gazing into the depths of this towering labyrinth of knowledge. The library itself is a marvel of architectural wonder, stretching upward into the light like a cathedral of books. Rows upon rows of bookshelves rise endlessly, their spines painted in hues of red, gold, and brown, creating a warm, inviting glow that contrasts sharply with the cool, diffused light filtering through the upper reaches of the structure. The shelves are not arranged in any conventional order; instead, they seem to defy gravity, twisting and turning in impossible angles as though sculpted by some invisible force. Some sections appear to float mid-air, supported only by the intricate network of beams and supports that crisscross the space like veins in a living organism. Pages of books flutter through the air, torn loose from their bindings, adding a sense of movement and chaos to the otherwise serene environment. These fragments of paper drift lazily, catching the light as they fall, creating a mesmerizing dance of shadows and reflections. The air is thick with a hazy golden dust, giving the impression that time itself has slowed within these walls, allowing every detail to be savored. At the center of the scene, a massive, transparent dome-like structure dominates the view. It appears to be a focal point of the library, perhaps a repository of rare or sacred texts, its surface etched with faint patterns that shimmer subtly in the light. Within this dome, a single figure can be seen, small and distant, almost ethereal, as though observing the vast expanse of knowledge from a place of quiet contemplation. The floor beneath the observer is worn and uneven, composed of aged planks that creak underfoot, hinting at the weight of history carried by this place. Railing systems made of metal bars guide the way through the labyrinthine levels, their design both functional and ornate, suggesting a blend of practicality and artistic craftsmanship. Above, the ceiling recedes into a bright, radiant light source that seems to emanate from beyond the confines of the library. This light bathes the entire space in a soft, golden hue, casting long shadows that stretch across the shelves and platforms. The contrast between the illuminated areas and the darker recesses creates a dramatic interplay of light and shadow, enhancing the sense of depth and mystery. The overall atmosphere is one of reverence and wonder, yet there is also a palpable tensionâa feeling that this library is alive, breathing, and ever-changing. The scattered pages, the floating shelves, and the sheer scale of the structure all contribute to a sense of magic and enchantment, as though each book holds secrets waiting to be uncovered. The lone figure standing before this spectacle appears dwarfed by the magnitude of the world around them, yet their presence imbues the scene with a sense of purpose, as if they are on a quest to unravel the mysteries contained within these endless shelves. This is not just a library; it is a sanctuary of ideas, a temple of learning, and a testament to the boundless potential of human curiosity. It is a place where the past, present, and future converge, where stories are born, and truths are discovered. j_art, anime, anime art, <lora:FLUX\jul\J_Anime:0.7>, <lora:FLUX\RealAnime:0.7>$

In a tranquil meadow bathed in the golden light of dawn, a young sorceress with chestnut brown skin and emerald-green eyes sits cross-legged on a bed of soft, wildflowers. Her flowing robes of deep purple, embroidered with constellations, cascade around her, blending with the vibrant colors of the blooms. A glowing, crystalline staff rests beside her, its tip gently pulsating with a soft, azure light. Around her, fireflies hover lazily, their tiny lights adding to the dreamlike serenity of the scene. The air is filled with the soothing hum of bees and the distant chirping of birds, creating a symphony of nature that harmonizes with the gentle rustle of the breeze. A small stream winds its way nearby, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the pastel hues of the morning sky. The sorceress closes her eyes, a serene smile on her lips, as faint, golden glyphs form around her in a slow, mesmerizing dance. Overhead, the clouds drift lazily across a pale blue sky, untouched by worry or conflict. The world seems to pause, holding its breath in this moment of peace and quiet magic. , detailed background Fantastic lighting. Detailed shadows.intricate details, vivid colors, hyper-detailed, ultra-sharp, High resolution, high detail. Highly detailed. <lora:FluxMythR3alisticF:0.4><lora:midjourney_whisper_flux_lora_v01:0.4><lora:aidmaMJ6.1-FLUX-V0.1:0.4><lora:Movie_Portrait:0.4><lora:Flux DetailerV2:0.4>

((highly detailed:1.3)), ((digital drawing:1.1)) ((illustration:1.3)) A moonlit bedroom bathed in cold silver light, the atmosphere dense with eerie stillness. The girl lies motionless in bed, her dark hair cascading over the pillow, her breathing slow and steady beneath the soft folds of a slightly rumpled blanket. Shadows stretch unnaturally across the thick carpet as a massive praying mantis perches at the foot of the bed, its elongated limbs poised in unnatural elegance. Its bulbous, reflective eyes gleam under the window’s glow, antennae twitching as it silently observes her, exuding an unsettling yet patient presence. The wooden table beside the bed holds a simple glass and a jar of water, condensation glistening in the dim light. Framed portraits line the wallpapered wall, their frozen gazes locked in perpetual silence. The furniture, the air itself, feels heavy, untouched by time. The night beyond the window is endless, the pale moon casting an otherworldly glow, illuminating the creature’s exoskeleton with ghostly precision. The mantis does not move. It only watches. style of Gil Elvgren, colored sketch in the style of ck-ccd,

$A metallic rose with petals of gleaming brass and silver sits delicately atop a velvet cushion, its intricate gears visible beneath the polished surface. Tiny filigree vines made of copper curl around its base, twisting into elegant spirals that glint under a soft, amber light. The center of the rose is a delicate, ticking clock, its hands moving in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, marking time with a gentle hum. Small gemstones embedded in the petals catch the light, refracting it into tiny rainbows that dance across the deep red velvet beneath. Wisps of steam curl from the base, escaping from hidden vents as if the flower itself is breathing. The background is blurred, filled with hazy golden hues and the faint glimmer of distant clockwork mechanisms turning in perfect harmony. A soft glow surrounds the rose, illuminating the delicate craftsmanship of its metallic petals. In the distance, the sound of ticking fills the air, creating a serene, rhythmic pulse. The entire scene radiates warmth, like an artifact pulled from the heart of a grand, forgotten automaton. , detailed background Fantastic lighting. Detailed shadows.intricate details, vivid colors, hyper-detailed, ultra-sharp, , <lora:FluxMythR3alisticF:0.4><lora:midjourney_whisper_flux_lora_v01:0.4><lora:aidmaMJ6.1-FLUX-V0.1:0.4><lora:Movie_Portrait:0.4><lora:Flux DetailerV2:0.4>$

In a vast, moonlit gallery lined with forgotten masterpieces, a vampire draped in an elegant, deep-blue cloak stands before a grand canvas, his slender fingers ghosting over its ornate frame. His skin, pale as alabaster, seems almost translucent under the cold glow of the chandeliers, his dark, sunken eyes locked onto the painted sunrise that burns with golden fire. The rich hues of dawnâs first light spill across a tranquil lake in the painting, its reflection shimmering with a warmth he will never feel. His lips press into a thin line, and his fangs barely peek out as he exhales a slow, weary breath. Dust motes drift lazily through the air, caught in the flickering candlelight, as if time itself moves slower in this solemn, forgotten place. The silence is suffocating, broken only by the distant, hollow ticking of a clock that no longer chimes. One gloved hand rises as if to touch the painting, to grasp the unreachable light, but he stops short, fingers curling into a trembling fist. The weight of centuries bears down on his shoulders, the aching hunger within him not for blood, but for the warmth of a dawn that will never greet him again. Shadows stretch long behind him, the eternal night of his existence swallowing everythingâeverything except the burning sunrise before him. , 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>

As the sun begins its descent, golden light floods through a vast opening in the cavern, casting long, warm shadows over the moss-covered stones. The rich hues of amber, deep green, and burnt orange paint a nostalgic scene, evoking the feeling of a forgotten, sacred sanctuary. A gentle stream trickles between the smooth stones, reflecting the glow of the setting sun. Leaves rustle softly as a cool breeze sweeps through the cave, carrying the earthy aroma of damp moss and ancient rock. A place where time slows, inviting weary travelers to pause, breathe, and embrace the quiet beauty of nature’s untouched wonder. VibrantlySharp style., Anime art, pastel anime

A Barbarian King on a Throne of Bones â Seated atop a massive throne made entirely of fused skulls and colossal rib bones, a barbarian king with a wild mane of silver hair and glowing amber eyes glares forward with an expression of brutal dominance. His fur-lined cloak, ragged and stained with battle, drapes over his massive shoulders, revealing arms covered in tribal scars that tell the stories of countless wars. His left hand grips the pommel of an enormous battle-axe, its blade still slick with fresh crimson, while his right hand rests lazily on the armrest, fingers idly tracing the cracks in the bones beneath them. Around him, towering stone pillars, carved with ancient war glyphs, rise toward a sky stained red with the light of a burning sun. The ground is littered with shattered weapons and rusted armor, remnants of those who dared to challenge his reign. Beyond the throne, the silhouette of a fortress carved into the side of a jagged mountain looms in the distance, its fires burning like the eyes of a beast. The kingâs breath is slow and measured, his golden crown dented and wornâless a symbol of royalty, and more a trophy of survival. The throne room is silent, save for the occasional gust of wind that stirs the banners above, whispering of bloodshed and victory. DB4RZ, DB4RZ style painting, NeoPigma, in the style of cksc, anime, cyberpunk, a masterpiece, award winning,<lora:CPA:0.5><lora:FLUX-daubrez-DB4RZ:0.3><lora:NeoPigmaV3:0.35><lora:ck-shadow-circuit-000021:0.35>

Bathed in the glow of a silver moon, a lone sorceress stands at the edge of an ancient, mist-shrouded lake. The wind stirs her midnight-blue cloak, the fabric rippling like water against her skin. Glowing runes pulse softly along her sleeves, their golden light casting faint reflections on the damp stone beneath her feet.
Her long, wavy hair cascades down her back, strands catching in the breeze as she lifts a delicate hand over the lake’s surface. A swirling orb of ethereal light forms in her palm, its radiance shifting between soft blues and shimmering golds, sending ripples through the glassy water. The air hums with unseen magic, the scent of damp earth and blooming nightshade lingering in the cool night air.
Towering ruins stand in the distance, their ivy-clad arches silhouetted against the star-flecked sky. Wisps of mist curl around the broken pillars, whispering forgotten secrets. From the shadows, a pair of luminous eyes watch her—whether friend or foe, she does not yet know.
She takes a slow breath, her expression calm but intensely focused. Tonight, the veil between realms is thin, and the power in her hands feels heavier than ever. The night holds its breath, waiting for her next move.

A young woman walks along a quiet riverside promenade during the blue hour, just after sunset. The sky is a deep, dusky blue, fading into soft violets and warm amber where the last traces of sunlight linger on the horizon. City lights shimmer on the calm water, rippling with the movement of passing boats. The air is cool, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked pavement and distant café pastries.
She wears a long, wool coat draped over her shoulders, the fabric swaying gently with each step. A soft scarf is wrapped loosely around her neck, her breath faintly visible in the crisp evening air. Her dark hair cascades naturally, a few strands catching the breeze as she tucks them behind her ear. She cradles a steaming paper cup of coffee between gloved hands, its warmth a welcome contrast to the chill.
As she pauses near the iron railing, she gazes out at the city’s skyline, the golden windows of distant high-rises twinkling like stars. A nearby streetlamp flickers on, casting a soft, warm glow over the cobblestone path. A stray cat rubs against her ankle, and she crouches down, offering her hand with a gentle smile. The cat purrs, pressing into her touch before darting off into the night.
For a moment, she lingers in the stillness, taking a slow sip of coffee. A fleeting, peaceful moment in the heart of the city.

FLUX

Dev - flux_dev.safetensors