null time for waking

A swirling interdimensional gateway at the edge of reality. Fractals of impossible geometry shift and morph endlessly. Stars are born and die in the blink of an eye. Time and space bend upon themselves. A celestial guardian observes the cosmic dance. Its form constantly shifts between states of matter and energy. Multiple sets of eyes peer across dimensions. Tendrils of pure thought extend into the void. Its very presence warps the fabric of reality. Echoes of creation and destruction resound. Glimpses of alternate universes flicker by. The boundaries of existence blur in its wake.

The state of mind of a man who is unable to rest: every time he falls asleep in one, he wakes up in another.
And then the situation repeats itself.
All worlds are nightmares. No rest for the wicked mins. Monsters inside any thoughts. style of Exploded assembly
fear
Horror

score_9, score_8_up, score_7_up, source_realistic, hyper detailed, ultra-HD textures, high quality v3, masterpiece,sketch pencil 2b one-line drawing,Grunge Art,SandmanNM.
A haunting monochrome pencil 2b thick lineart sketch of an eroded mouthless white bald gaunt humanoid, with pale skin, empty hollow eyes and no mouth, wearing an old rusty tattered ripped Metallica Tshirt and old ripped jeans, holding color spray graffiti can with it's claw-like finger hand. Behind it, a decayed castle wall looms with stained Anarchy graffiti symbol, its surface cracked and peeling with time. The dim, moody lighting casts haunting shadows, subtly illuminating the humanoid’s unsettling grin and lifeless gaze. The air is thick with an eerie atmosphere
An evocative composition, filled with eerie tension and unanswered questions, leaving a sense of unease in its wake, punctuated by bold, chaotic black thick linework that seems to writhe like a living entity. The paper itself appears worn and stained, as if it too has been consumed by the madness that inspired this crude drawing

A masterpiece of sci-fi style created by the collaboration of William Blake and Zaha Hadid. Title: Cosmic OdysseyDescription:In this captivating sci-fi image, an interstellar spacecraft is depicted hurtling through the vast expanse of space, surrounded by shimmering cosmic dust and vibrant nebulae. The vessel's sleek, metallic surface is bathed in the ethereal light of nearby stars, casting intricate shadows that dance upon its futuristic design. A trail of radiant energy, emanating from the ship's engines, leaves a glowing pathway in its wake, highlighting the immense speed with which it traverses the universe.The backdrop of this mesmerizing scene is a breathtaking galaxy, filled with swirling clouds of gas and dust that give birth to new stars. In the distance, a magnificent black hole looms ominously, its event horizon devouring anything unfortunate enough to be caught in its gravitational pull. The ship's course seems to be inexorably drawn towards this cosmic maelstrom, adding an element of tension and intrigue to the overall composition.As if witnessing this awe-inspiring spectacle from another dimension, a pair of glowing eyes can be discerned within the cockpit of the spacecraft, hinting at the presence of intelligent life aboard. These enigmatic observers seem both fascinated and apprehensive about their journey through the uncharted territories of space-time, reflecting the universal themes of exploration, discovery, and human curiosity that are central to the sci-fi genre.In this striking image, the juxtaposition of advanced technology with the raw beauty and unfathomable vastness of the cosmos serves to underscore the boundless potential for imagination and innovation within the realm of science fiction. The viewer is left with a profound sense of wonder and a desire to explore the infinite possibilities that lie beyond our earthly horizon. HD32K, hyperdetailed, best quality, midjourneyv6.1.

$A night-time surreal scene set in an endless dry lake bed, its cracked earth stretching toward distant, shadowed mountains beneath a vast, deep-blue sky. The air is still, silent, but the world feels alive in its stillness. At the center of the scene, a colossal female hand emerges from the fractured ground, in its palm is the face of a young woman. The skin of the hand and face is made of pristine gold and there is a doorway at the base. The young woman's face in the hand smiles at a small girl. A small girl in a bright yellow raincoat stands before the massive hand, her tiny figure dwarfed by its presence. She holds a red balloon in one hand, its string barely swaying in the breeze. Her head is tilted back, staring up at the hand’s middle finger, where the largest eye is open, staring directly back at her. Above them, the sky is filled with thousands of floating red balloons, their vibrant color stark against the deep navy night sky. They drift in all directions, some higher, some lower, as if they are being released by unseen hands. The scene is both quiet and unsettling, something ancient has begun to wake. The lighting is subtle, the scene bathed in cold moonlight, casting long shadows across the cracked earth. The red balloons glow faintly in the dim light, giving the impression that they are not just balloons, but something more—something watching, waiting.$

$A night-time surreal scene set in an endless dry lake bed, its cracked earth stretching toward distant, shadowed mountains beneath a vast, deep-blue sky. The air is still, silent, but the world feels alive in its stillness. At the center of the scene, a colossal female hand emerges from the fractured ground, embedded in its palm is the face of a young woman. The skin of the hand and face is made of pristine gold and there is a doorway at the base. The young woman's face in the hand smiles at a small girl. A small girl in a bright yellow raincoat stands before the massive hand, her tiny figure dwarfed by its presence. She holds a red balloon in one hand, its string barely swaying in the breeze. Her head is tilted back, staring up at the hand’s middle finger, where the largest eye is open, staring directly back at her. Above them, the sky is filled with thousands of floating red balloons, their vibrant color stark against the deep navy night sky. They drift in all directions, some higher, some lower, as if they are being released by unseen hands. The scene is both quiet and unsettling, something ancient has begun to wake. The lighting is stark, the there is a strong light, low in the sky to the left, casting long shadows across the cracked earth. The red balloons glow faintly in the dim light, giving the impression that they are not just balloons, but something more—something watching, waiting.$

An antique grandfather clock stands tall, its outer wooden casing worn but elegant, with intricate carvings of vines and symbols etched into its dark, polished surface. The clock’s inner workings are completely exposed, revealing an elaborate network of cogs, gears, and pendulums that move in perfect, rhythmic harmony. However, these mechanisms are not made of ordinary metal—instead, they glow with an ethereal light, shifting in soft hues of blue and violet as if imbued with otherworldly energy. Each gear appears translucent, as though carved from glass or crystal, catching the light in strange, hypnotic ways. The pendulum swings slowly, leaving a faint trail of shimmering light in its wake, as if time itself is being bent and warped. Surrounding the clock, faint wisps of mist drift through the air, adding a mystical, dreamlike quality to the scene. The numbers on the clock face are not static; they subtly shift and melt, giving the impression that time is fluid, no longer confined to its usual boundaries. The clock exists in a space where reality bends, and its every tick resonates with a soft, melodic chime that seems to echo from another dimension.

Funny how a day can change
From open skies to pouring rain
From waking up and feeling so good
To never feeling anything
Now everything is black and white
Suddenly, you're colour-blind
You've really made up your mind
It's unfair
'Cause I've compromised, followed your dreams
I've sacrificed, to feel what you feel
I've given you time and now
You do me like this
Just when I was getting used to love you
To love you, to love you
bo-golden

Cinematic style, illustration, dramatic chiaroscuro, ethereal beauty, high definition,
A young boy, glowing with an ethereal, otherworldly light, emerges boldly through a solid brick wall as though phasing through its structure. His entire figure, bathed in an intense yet soft blue-white glow, creates the illusion of him being more spirit than flesh, as though he exists on the edge of reality. His short-sleeved shirt and shorts ripple slightly, implying motion as he pushes forward, one knee bent as if he’s just taken a step into this realm. The bricks around him appear to crumble and dissolve in his wake, highlighting the contrast between the rough, tangible textures of the wall and the smooth, illuminated form of the boy. His expression is one of quiet determination, as though he’s embarking on an important, mysterious journey. The glowing aura that surrounds him spreads like light spilling through a crack, illuminating the dark and gritty surface of the brick wall behind him. The overall atmosphere is a surreal blend of the everyday and the supernatural, captured with sharp, hyper-realistic details in the textures of the bricks and the dreamlike radiance that envelopes the boy. The composition combines elements of urban fantasy and cinematic realism, evoking both tension and curiosity, as if time itself is bending in this quiet moment of transformation.

The photo of the night Forrest. Vibe is the state of mind of a man who is unable to rest: every time he falls asleep in one, he wakes up in another.
And then the situation repeats itself.
All worlds are nightmares. No rest for the wicked mins. Monsters inside any thoughts. style of Exploded assembly
fear
Horror
ArsMJStyle , vaporwave

$A night-time surreal scene set in an endless dry lake bed, its cracked earth stretching toward distant, shadowed mountains beneath a vast, deep-blue sky. The air is still, silent, but the world feels alive in its stillness. At the center of the scene, a colossal female hand emerges from the fractured ground, its fingers reaching skyward as if breaking free from something buried beneath. The skin of the hand is a hammered gold and weathered. In the palm of the hand is a human eye staring down at a small girl. A small girl in a bright yellow raincoat stands before the massive hand, her tiny figure dwarfed by its presence. She holds a red balloon in one hand, its string barely swaying in the breeze. Her head is tilted back, staring up at the hand’s middle finger, where the largest eye is open, staring directly back at her. Above them, the sky is filled with thousands of floating red balloons, their vibrant color stark against the deep navy night sky. They drift in all directions, some higher, some lower, as if they are being released by unseen hands. The scene is both quiet and unsettling, something ancient has begun to wake. The lighting is subtle, the scene bathed in cold moonlight, casting long shadows across the cracked earth. The red balloons glow faintly in the dim light, giving the impression that they are not just balloons, but something more—something watching, waiting.$

$A night-time surreal scene set in an endless dry lake bed, its cracked earth stretching toward distant, shadowed mountains beneath a vast, deep-blue sky. The air is still, silent, but the world feels alive in its stillness. At the center of the scene, a colossal female hand emerges from the fractured ground, embedded in its palm is the face of a young woman. The skin of the hand and face is made of pristine gold and there is a doorway at the base. The young woman's face in the hand smiles at a small girl. A small girl in a bright yellow raincoat stands before the massive hand, her tiny figure dwarfed by its presence. She holds a red balloon in one hand, its string barely swaying in the breeze. Her head is tilted back, staring up at the hand’s middle finger, where the largest eye is open, staring directly back at her. Above them, the sky is filled with thousands of floating red balloons, their vibrant color stark against the deep navy night sky. They drift in all directions, some higher, some lower, as if they are being released by unseen hands. The scene is both quiet and unsettling, something ancient has begun to wake. The lighting is subtle, the scene bathed in cold moonlight, casting long shadows across the cracked earth. The red balloons glow faintly in the dim light, giving the impression that they are not just balloons, but something more—something watching, waiting.$

A young wizard with mole-like features stands proudly on his hind legs, clutching a gleaming wooden wand adorned with intricate golden filigree. The crystal-tipped tip of his wand emits a soft, ethereal glow that casts an otherworldly light upon the lush, emerald-green grass beneath him.

The warm, golden sunlight casts long shadows behind him, accentuating the subtle textures of his earth-toned robes and the rich, velvety fur of his mole-like features. A delicate, crescent-shaped moon hangs low in the sky above, casting a silvery glow upon the scene that emphasizes the wizard's connection to the mystical forces he seeks to harness.

In his eyes, a spark of curiosity and wonder shines brightly, illuminating the path ahead like a beacon that guides him through the twists and turns of his magical journey. The air is alive with an almost palpable sense of enchantment, as if the very fabric of reality has been woven from threads of pure imagination.

A sprinkling of sparkling, iridescent dust particles dances in the air around him, leaving trails of glittering, shimmering light in their wake. Time itself seems to stand still, and the universe is at his fingertips, waiting for him to weave his next spell of wonder.

The composition is a static shot, with the wizard standing proudly on his hind legs, looking directly at the viewer. The perspective is from the waist up, showcasing the wizard's features and the intricate details of his wand and robes.

"Noctessa," goddess of night’s bloom, ruler of the underworld’s twilight, ethereal and unknowable, hyperdetailed, 8k resolution concept art, WLOP, Moebius, cinematic contrast of deep indigos, soft pinks, and muted golds.
She stands at the edge of two realms, neither bound to the heavens nor the depths, but a haunting presence between them. Her violet-streaked black hair drifts weightlessly, as if floating in unseen currents. Deep indigo eyes, flecked with tiny constellations, gaze softly, like a dream just before waking.
Her gown, an elaborate tapestry of sheer black and dusk-blue fabric, glows faintly at the edges, woven from threads of celestial mist and underworld smoke. Her fingers trail over an unopened pomegranate, the skin glimmering like polished onyx, veins of golden light pulsing beneath its surface. The air around her shimmers with floating petals of forgotten flowers, blooming and wilting in slow motion, caught between time. Behind her, shadows rise in swirling tendrils, not as something sinister, but as guardians—loyal to the goddess who walks between life and the night. She is the hush of the world at midnight, the longing in an unfinished dream, the final whisper before one falls into darkness.

Art by Alejandro Burdisio
A row of prismatic beetles lines up for a croquet match, their carapaces glistening in hues of iridescent green, sapphire, and ruby. Each beetle’s exoskeleton is a mosaic of glowing veins, their surfaces reflecting light in impossible angles. Bosch’s close-up reveals their mandibles—sharp and precise, gripping flamingo-shaped mallets that glow faintly with a bioluminescent blue. Their antennae are tipped with glowing orbs that pulse in time with their movements, casting faint, shifting shadows on the ground. The air around them vibrates with the hum of their wings, creating faint ripples of light that linger in the air like afterimages. The croquet balls are made of glowing, translucent orbs that hum softly as they roll, leaving trails of shimmering light in their wake.

A dreamlike depiction of the Tunguska event in the post-impressionist style of Vincent van Gogh, set against a swirling, turbulent backdrop of blues and greens, evoking a sense of chaos and turmoil. In the center, a massive, glowing orange-yellow fireball illuminates the dark, Siberian forest, casting an eerie, otherworldly light on the towering trees, their gnarled branches twisted and distorted as if in agony. The air is thick with energy and debris, shards of wood and splintered trunks suspended in mid-air as if frozen in time. To the left, a fallen tree trunk lies smoldering, its bark cracked and blackened, while in the distance, a faint plume of smoke rises into the atmosphere, a haunting reminder of the destruction left in the event's wake. The brushstrokes are bold and expressive, with thick layers of impasto paint creating a textured, almost three-dimensional effect.

The Peach Blossom Dream – A Scholar’s Hidden Paradise
A hidden valley bathed in soft pink light, where endless peach blossoms drift through the air like whispers of an ancient poem. A stone path winds through a tranquil river, leading to a secluded bamboo teahouse nestled beneath a grand weeping cherry tree. The teahouse glows with the warm light of paper lanterns, their soft red hues casting reflections upon the water.
A young scholar, dressed in flowing jade-green robes, leans against a wooden pillar, lost in a scroll of ancient poetry. Across the river, a mysterious woman in a white hanfu (汉服, traditional Chinese attire) gazes toward him, her silk sleeves drifting like mist in the breeze. She seems half-real, half-illusion, as if a spirit of the peach blossoms themselves.
A distant flute plays a melancholic tune, carried by the wind. Somewhere, an old poet’s words whisper through the petals:
"In dreams, I return to the river of blossoms; but when I wake, it is lost to time."

In the heart of a dense, fog-laden forest, a pale, translucent ghost of a young woman hovers just above the ground, her long, flowing hair drifting weightlessly as though caught in a gentle breeze. Her eyes, a faint, icy blue, gaze sorrowfully into the distance as her tattered, white gown glows faintly in the mist. Around her, the twisted branches of the ancient trees reach out like skeletal hands, their bark covered in moss that seems to shimmer in the dim light of the full moon above. The air is thick with silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of unseen creatures and the soft whispers of the wind. Her spectral form seems to flicker in and out of existence, as though caught between two worlds, and the ground beneath her is littered with decaying leaves and twisted roots. Behind her, the outline of an old, forgotten graveyard can be seen, the weathered tombstones barely visible through the thick fog. The moonlight casts long, ethereal shadows across the clearing, adding to the otherworldly atmosphere. The ghostâs presence fills the air with a cold, eerie stillness, as though time itself has slowed in her haunted wake. , detailed background Fantastic lighting. Detailed shadows.intricate details, vivid colors, hyper-detailed, ultra-sharp <lora:- Flux1 - soothing_atmo_V2.0:0.35><lora:Movie_Portrait:0.45><lora:KB_AgfaCA20_FLUX:0.45><lora:- Flux1 - vanta_black_V2.0:0.3><lora:Dark_Knights_Flux:0.4><lora:Hong Kong action cinema style v1:0.65><lora:FluxFantasyKnightV2Test:0.35><lora:ck-holographic-glitter-000015:0.7>

Spooky Art Drawing. ### Poem 1: **The Phantom’s Canvas**
In the stillness of night, where shadows entwine,
A *manga sketch* emerges, hauntingly divine.
Beneath a *hood* pulled low, its secrets confined,
An *ethereal ghost* drifts through time undefined.

With a *Killing Gaze smile*, it pierces the veil,
Its presence so *creepy*, both fragile and frail.
Eyes *shrouded in darkness*, like stars gone astray,
It moves with precision, unseen in the fray.

Oh, *manga style* whispers in strokes black as ink,
Each line drawn to life, each thought on the brink.
The *black hood* conceals what no words can express—
A spirit eternal, cursed yet blessed.

---

### Poem 2: **Dark Elegance**
Beneath the weight of a *dark*ened sky,
Where silence hums and echoes lie,
There walks an apparition, soft yet stark,
A phantom born from a *manga sketch*’s mark.

Its *black hood* drapes like midnight's cloak,
Every step deliberate, every word unspoken spoke.
An *ethereal ghost*, untethered by chains,
Gliding between worlds, crossing mortal planes.

And oh, that *Killing Gaze smile*, cold and sly,
That freezes the soul with just one eye.
For eyes *shrouded in darkness* see all too well,
Peering through shadows where nightmares dwell.

This creature of dreams, this *creepy* muse,
Is crafted in lines, precise and loose.
A masterpiece painted in *manga style*,
Forever haunting, forever beguile.

---

### Poem 3: **Shadows Inked**
Upon the page, a shadow stirs,
Born from the depths where silence blurs.
A *manga sketch* breathes into view,
A figure cloaked in a *black hood*, askew.

An *ethereal ghost* of fleeting grace,
Yet terror lingers upon its face.
A *Killing Gaze smile*, sharp and thin,
Inviting dread to seep within.

Its eyes are pools of endless night,
*Shrouded in darkness*, devoid of light.
They pierce the heart, they chill the bone,
Leaving you stranded, lost, alone.

Oh, how *creepy* beauty takes its form,
In *manga style*, amidst the storm.
A tale etched deep in charcoal hues,
Of specters risen, breaking taboos.

---

### Poem 4: **The Silent Sketch**
From paper’s edge, a figure wakes,
Emerging softly, yet nothing breaks.
A *manga sketch* brought to eerie life,
Cutting through doubt like a hidden knife.

Its *hood* obscures, its aura chills,
An *ethereal ghost* with unseen skills.
That *Killing Gaze smile* curls so slight,
Yet leaves your mind heavy with fright.

Eyes *shrouded in darkness*, hollow and vast,
Peering beyond where memories last.
Each glance a whisper, a silent plea,
To leave behind who you used to be.

In *manga style*, it dances free,
A work of art forged from mystery.
So tread with care when pages turn,
For some creations will always burn.,aidmafluxpro1.1

In the stillness of night, where shadows entwine,
A *manga sketch* emerges, hauntingly divine.
Beneath a *hood* pulled low, its secrets confined,
An *ethereal ghost* drifts through time undefined.

With a *Killing Gaze smile*, it pierces the veil,
Its presence so *creepy*, both fragile and frail.
Eyes *shrouded in darkness*, like stars gone astray,
It moves with precision, unseen in the fray.

Oh, *manga style* whispers in strokes black as ink,
Each line drawn to life, each thought on the brink.
The *black hood* conceals what no words can express—
A spirit eternal, cursed yet blessed.

---

### Poem 2: **Dark Elegance**
Beneath the weight of a *dark*ened sky,
Where silence hums and echoes lie,
There walks an apparition, soft yet stark,
A phantom born from a *manga sketch*’s mark.

Its *black hood* drapes like midnight's cloak,
Every step deliberate, every word unspoken spoke.
An *ethereal ghost*, untethered by chains,
Gliding between worlds, crossing mortal planes.

And oh, that *Killing Gaze smile*, cold and sly,
That freezes the soul with just one eye.
For eyes *shrouded in darkness* see all too well,
Peering through shadows where nightmares dwell.

This creature of dreams, this *creepy* muse,
Is crafted in lines, precise and loose.
A masterpiece painted in *manga style*,
Forever haunting, forever beguile.

---

### Poem 3: **Shadows Inked**
Upon the page, a shadow stirs,
Born from the depths where silence blurs.
A *manga sketch* breathes into view,
A figure cloaked in a *black hood*, askew.

An *ethereal ghost* of fleeting grace,
Yet terror lingers upon its face.
A *Killing Gaze smile*, sharp and thin,
Inviting dread to seep within.

Its eyes are pools of endless night,
*Shrouded in darkness*, devoid of light.
They pierce the heart, they chill the bone,
Leaving you stranded, lost, alone.

Oh, how *creepy* beauty takes its form,
In *manga style*, amidst the storm.
A tale etched deep in charcoal hues,
Of specters risen, breaking taboos.

---

### Poem 4: **The Silent Sketch**
From paper’s edge, a figure wakes,
Emerging softly, yet nothing breaks.
A *manga sketch* brought to eerie life,
Cutting through doubt like a hidden knife.

Its *hood* obscures, its aura chills,
An *ethereal ghost* with unseen skills.
That *Killing Gaze smile* curls so slight,
Yet leaves your mind heavy with fright.

Eyes *shrouded in darkness*, hollow and vast,
Peering beyond where memories last.
Each glance a whisper, a silent plea,
To leave behind who you used to be.

In *manga style*, it dances free,
A work of art forged from mystery.
So tread with care when pages turn,
For some creations will always burn.

pinkfluxproultrafantasia,
Focal Subject: A large, ancient tree with twisted, gnarled branches that reach out like the fingers of a giant hand. The tree’s bark is iridescent, shimmering with colors that shift between deep blues, purples, and greens, giving it an otherworldly glow. Its roots spread across the ground, intertwining with the environment, anchoring the tree to both reality and fantasy.

Overall Setting: The scene is set in a floating island suspended in a vast, endless sky filled with swirling clouds and vibrant hues of pink, orange, and violet. The island itself is lush with strange, bioluminescent plants and flowers that emit a soft glow, illuminating the surrounding area. Waterfalls cascade off the edges of the island, their streams disappearing into the void below, defying gravity as they flow upwards or sideways at times.

Camera Angle and Composition: The camera is positioned at a mid-range distance, capturing the tree as the central subject in a wide-angle view that showcases the surreal environment around it. The tree is placed slightly off-center, with the floating island extending into the background. The composition draws the eye from the tree to the cascading waterfalls and the swirling sky, creating a sense of depth and wonder.

Unique Details: The sky above is filled with floating, translucent orbs that reflect the colors of the environment, drifting gently through the air like bubbles. Small, glowing creatures—perhaps ethereal birds or mystical insects—flutter around the tree, leaving trails of light in their wake. The ground is covered in moss that pulses with a soft, rhythmic light, as if the island itself is alive.

Style and Mood: The image is rendered in a vibrant, high-contrast style that emphasizes the surreal nature of the scene. The mood is mystical and enchanting, evoking a sense of discovery and wonder as if stepping into a dream. The lighting is soft yet dynamic, casting long, ethereal shadows that add to the fantastical atmosphere. The overall feel is a blend of tranquility and mystery, inviting the viewer to explore this otherworldly place.

f4nt4st1c
Cash Rules Everything Around Me
Funny how a day can change From open skies to pouring rain From waking up and feeling so good To never feeling anything Now everything is black and white Suddenly, you're colour-blind You've really made up your mind 'Cause I've compromised, followed your dreams I've sacrificed, to feel what you feel I've given you time and now You do me like this Just when I was getting used to love you Platinum

$A night-time surreal scene set in an endless dry lake bed, its cracked earth stretching toward distant, shadowed mountains beneath a vast, deep-blue sky. The air is still, silent, but the world feels alive in its stillness. At the center of the scene, a colossal female hand emerges from the fractured ground, its fingers gently holding a young female head. The skin of the hand is made of pristine gold with a doorway at the base. The head in the hand smiles at a small girl. A small girl in a bright yellow raincoat stands before the massive hand, her tiny figure dwarfed by its presence. She holds a red balloon in one hand, its string barely swaying in the breeze. Her head is tilted back, staring up at the hand’s middle finger, where the largest eye is open, staring directly back at her. Above them, the sky is filled with thousands of floating red balloons, their vibrant color stark against the deep navy night sky. They drift in all directions, some higher, some lower, as if they are being released by unseen hands. The scene is both quiet and unsettling, something ancient has begun to wake. The lighting is subtle, the scene bathed in cold moonlight, casting long shadows across the cracked earth. The red balloons glow faintly in the dim light, giving the impression that they are not just balloons, but something more—something watching, waiting.$

$drawn, detailed, (Mythic fantasy, cinematic elegance, dreamlike composition, soft glow, intricate detailing) — A celestial warrior lies on her side upon an ancient marble altar, her alabaster skin illuminated by a soft ethereal glow. Her delicate form rests with a quiet vulnerability, her long, opalescent hair spilling across the stone, shimmering in hues of pearl and violet. One arm is outstretched toward the camera, fingers slightly curled as if reaching for something just beyond grasp, creating an intimate and immersive perspective. The camera remains at her level, capturing the scene with a gentle depth that enhances the moment’s stillness. The background fades into a dreamy, mist-laden abyss where towering ruins stand as ghostly silhouettes, half-shrouded in swirling fog. Soft bokeh lights flicker in the air, refracting into delicate golden halos and spectral blues, heightening the otherworldly atmosphere. Her half-lidded eyes and serene expression convey a sense of longing—caught between waking and sleep, reality and dream, as if reaching through the veil of time itself.$

$A night-time surreal scene set in an endless dry lake bed, its cracked earth stretching toward distant, shadowed mountains beneath a vast, deep-blue sky. The air is still, silent, but the world feels alive in its stillness. At the center of the scene, a colossal female hand emerges from the fractured ground, its fingers reaching skyward as if breaking free from something buried beneath. The skin of the hand is a hammered gold and weathered. In the palm of the hand is a human eye staring down at a small girl. A small girl in a bright yellow raincoat stands before the massive hand, her tiny figure dwarfed by its presence. She holds a red balloon in one hand, its string barely swaying in the breeze. Her head is tilted back, staring up at the hand’s middle finger, where the largest eye is open, staring directly back at her. Above them, the sky is filled with thousands of floating red balloons, their vibrant color stark against the deep navy night sky. They drift in all directions, some higher, some lower, as if they are being released by unseen hands. The scene is both quiet and unsettling, something ancient has begun to wake. The lighting is subtle, the scene bathed in cold moonlight, casting long shadows across the cracked earth. The red balloons glow faintly in the dim light, giving the impression that they are not just balloons, but something more—something watching, waiting.$

In the depths of a colossal ocean trench, an enormous, bioluminescent whale drifts through the darkness, its glowing patterns pulsing like the heartbeat of the deep. Around it, the water is thick and inky, an abyss that swallows all but the light radiating from the massive creatureâs body. Tiny, luminous fish dart around its head, trailing neon-blue ribbons in their wake, their movements synchronized like celestial dancers. Above, the faint silhouette of an ancient sunken city looms, its broken towers disappearing into the endless void. A gentle hum vibrates through the water, a song sung in frequencies too deep for mortal ears to comprehend. Strange, swirling lights flicker within the whaleâs massive eyes, as though it carries the memories of a thousand forgotten lifetimes. The ocean floor, littered with lost relics and scattered pearls, glows faintly from patches of bioluminescent coral, casting eerie, shifting shadows. As the whale moves forward, its vast body displaces the water in slow, deliberate movements, like a deity of the abyss traveling through a realm untouched by time. , 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>

For there was a time
Long forgotten and lost
My heart once beat with love
Simple. Really. And yet so naive
I took for granted that time
She was the dream of my soul
Every bit a wonder of light and beauty
I was lost in her world and she guided a young naive boy down a path of magic and excitement
I spun with happiness and loved her even more
I never knew such a world existed outside my own
I lapped up every new experience and adventure
I was a traveler on a journey I knew no path and drifted in her wake
She was a wonder and dream I knew nothing
I drank fully from a soul and fear I provided no nourishment in return
I never lied to her
I never misled or denied
Yet we parted
Lost without a path
for my journey was but to follow
I stumbled and fell
Years past by and though I tried
I found no one sparked the magic I once knew
Darkness consumed me and the spark faded
A dying ember
Stoked to life for a very brief moment
A ring. A single piece of sparkle
I wanted so much to bend the knee
But feared the rejection I knew would come
We shared a night of love only a few days prior meaning more for me than her
And yet I believe a gift was seeded
The wonder would be a new life
A gift to her and for her a savior
A man to take upon his shoulders a lifetime that would be a journey similar to me but yet new
Following in her wake

FLUX

Dev - flux_dev.safetensors