null there is nothing

    Trying to make begging images with Flux is a pain. The beggars board with the influx of reactions is a significant source of buzz, but to make a good image you'll need many attempts. Schnell is especially bad at generating anything good when you have an actual vision of what you want. It can be difficult to recoup the invested buzz with Flux when striving for quality. This makes life on the free tier depressing. The beggar board quickly becomes a buzz sink instead. A significant amount of daily buzz is spent to beg for more, to what end? What's the value of a gallery where a large portion of the images are buzz begs? Sometimes the ideas don't pan out at all. Sometimes the "buzz" lightning bolt icon ends up too insignificant and the moderators won't accept it at all. I've had such an image sitting at the approval queue, while another image I generated later with "BUZZ" written in large letters was accepted and expired from the board already. So, this time, I'll let fate guide my hand. I'll go cheap. I'll include the text "BUZZ" multiple times hoping it will appear in the image. If I'm lucky, the image will have animals in some funny manner, gathering lots of reactions. This is the way to profit on the free tier. Lowest cost, highest profits. Perhaps I'll have a chance to spend my buzz on some actual art today and not just begging. One can dream. Surely with a rant like this, my "BUZZ" beg will turn into a true masterpiece! Here goes nothing, I mean, here goes 20 buzz...
    “Create an eye-catching, humorous advertising poster for a quirky offer: ‘Give us your buzz and we will give you…. NOTHING! ^_^’. The design should feature a playful, sarcastic tone with vibrant, bold colors and modern typography. The main visual should include an abstract symbol or character representing ‘buzz’ (like a buzzing bee or an abstract, electric idea) interacting with a minimalistic ‘empty’ gift box or nothingness. Use Panavision Prime lenses to capture high details, with a focus on intricate jewels and a misty atmosphere. Include a rubber duck, a Big Mac, and a Whopper in the scene to add an element of fun randomness. The overall feel should be whimsical, irreverent, and memorable, combining surreal elements like food and jewels with the cheeky message of the promotion. Incorporate elements of pop culture, tech, or social media to emphasize the contemporary, tongue-in-cheek vibe.”
    without hesitation I embraced her and there was nothing she wanted more in that moment but in so doing we found thereafter our expectations differed
    A liminal space inside an abandoned train car, dimly illuminated by flickering overhead lights. The seats, covered in old, worn-out fabric, are eerily empty. The air is thick with the stale scent of dust, metal, and something faintly rotting, though you see nothing. The windows reveal nothing but an endless void—no landscape, no stations, just blackness stretching forever. The train hums along the tracks, yet there is no conductor, no passengers—just you. At first, it seems like you’re alone. But then, in the reflection of the window, something shifts. A silhouette, barely noticeable in the dim light, hunched in the farthest corner of the train car. Its form is wrong, too thin, too elongated, as if its body was never meant to exist here. It is motionless. Watching. Waiting. You tell yourself it’s a trick of the light, but deep down, you know the truth. Now that you’ve seen it, now that you’ve acknowledged its presence, it won’t let you go. The lights flicker again. It’s closer.
    A liminal space inside an abandoned train car, dimly illuminated by flickering overhead lights. The seats, covered in old, worn-out fabric, are eerily empty. The air is thick with the stale scent of dust, metal, and something faintly rotting, though you see nothing. The windows reveal nothing but an endless void—no landscape, no stations, just blackness stretching forever. The train hums along the tracks, yet there is no conductor, no passengers—just you. At first, it seems like you’re alone. But then, in the reflection of the window, something shifts. A silhouette, barely noticeable in the dim light, hunched in the farthest corner of the train car. Its form is wrong, too thin, too elongated, as if its body was never meant to exist here. It is motionless. Watching. Waiting. You tell yourself it’s a trick of the light, but deep down, you know the truth. Now that you’ve seen it, now that you’ve acknowledged its presence, it won’t let you go. The lights flicker again. It’s closer.
    A liminal space inside an empty high school, where the air is thick with an eerie stillness. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly, casting a cold, artificial glow onto the polished linoleum floors. Rows of gray metal lockers stretch endlessly down the hallway, their doors covered in faint scratches and the remnants of long-faded stickers. The smell of old textbooks, industrial cleaning supplies, and distant rain lingers in the air. The classroom doors are shut, their small windows revealing nothing but darkness. A lonely bulletin board by the principal’s office displays outdated announcements, faded student council posters, and a forgotten flyer for a dance that happened long ago. The cafeteria, visible through an open doorway, is empty—rows of plastic chairs neatly stacked, the serving area abandoned, the faint scent of reheated food still clinging to the air. A single clock above the lockers ticks softly, though the time no longer seems to matter. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a dripping faucet echoes through the silence. The school is frozen in time, suspended in an endless after-hours void—familiar, yet unsettling. You’ve been here before, or maybe only in a dream. Either way, you know one thing for sure: you’re alone here.
    Masterpiece photo of a ((fit athletic)) attractive tall fit athletic perfect gorgeous cute ((muscular)) buff bodybuilding egyptian housewife making a delicious sandwich, short brown curly wavy hair, wearing nothing but an apron, no underwear, practically nude, smiling, pinup, cozy egyptian kitchen, rimlight, backlit, 80s inspired, retro theme, 4k, bokeh, depth of field, extremely detailed face, extremely detailed skin, extremely detailed eyes, extremely realistic.
    Zombie Rundown, Rotting Mudclay, Dreary Stormy Day, Barron Lands, Greyscale, Nothing of New, Dread and Scary
    Zombie Rundown, Rotting Mudclay, Dreary Stormy Day, Barron Lands, Greyscale, Nothing of New, Dread and Scary
    In the foreground, David John Tennant as Doctor Who waves his arms to attract attention and says "nothing to see here", behind him a burning Dalek drives, in the background, server racks smoke and spark. Comic style.
    In the foreground, David John Tennant as Doctor Who waves his arms to attract attention and says "nothing to see here", behind him a burning Dalek drives, in the background, server racks smoke and spark. Comic style.
    A liminal space inside an empty high school, where the air is thick with an eerie stillness. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly, casting a cold, artificial glow onto the polished linoleum floors. Rows of gray metal lockers stretch endlessly down the hallway, their doors covered in faint scratches and the remnants of long-faded stickers. The smell of old textbooks, industrial cleaning supplies, and distant rain lingers in the air. The classroom doors are shut, their small windows revealing nothing but darkness. A lonely bulletin board by the principal’s office displays outdated announcements, faded student council posters, and a forgotten flyer for a dance that happened long ago. The cafeteria, visible through an open doorway, is empty—rows of plastic chairs neatly stacked, the serving area abandoned, the faint scent of reheated food still clinging to the air. A single clock above the lockers ticks softly, though the time no longer seems to matter. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a dripping faucet echoes through the silence. The school is frozen in time, suspended in an endless after-hours void—familiar, yet unsettling. You’ve been here before, or maybe only in a dream. Either way, you know one thing for sure: you’re alone here.
    A scene set in the primordial void, before the dawn of creation. The Earth, barren and devastated, lies shrouded in absolute darkness, its surface fractured and scarred, with deep chasms and fissures glowing with the fiery red of molten magma. Above, the sky is a swirling vortex of black and crimson, where the elements of creation—fire, water, earth, and air—clash in a chaotic, undefined space. This primordial chaos fills the void, an abyss of swirling energies and unformed matter, where nothing yet has order. The scene is illuminated by the eerie glow of the magma and the occasional burst of energy from within the abyss, casting stark shadows and highlighting the desolate, lifeless landscape. The atmosphere is heavy with the anticipation of a world yet to be born, a sense of untamed potential lingering in the darkness. The scene should evoke a sense of awe and primordial power, with the elements of chaos teetering on the edge of creation, waiting to be shaped into the world as we know it.
    ((Sauron in battle))Completely Helm's fall absolutely nothing, pure black, detailed, but the Lord of the Rings of life are rising, FastNegativeV2,dancing with the devil, the red dress is the only splash of colour, ink splashes, falling, rough ink sketch, moody, gloomy, dark picture, high contrast, stylized, rough ink sketch, linquivera, liiv1(James Ensor,Unica Zurn,Zdzislaw Beksinki:1.25), Skeletons,Weeping statues, Paranormal,Apparition, (Metallics:1.1), (Shape:1.1), (Monotyping:1.1), (Strobe light:1.2), Stone, Rhombus, ultra detailed, intricate, oil on canvas, dry brush, (surrealism:1.1), (disturbing:1.1) <lora:khorne:0.7> <lora:methurlant:0.5> The king's guards fell like wheat before the scythe, their cries of alarm silenced by the swift and merciless blades of the assassin knights. In the heart of the fortress, they confronted the tyrant king himself, a figure wreathed in shadows and crowned with a crown of thorns. creating a hyperpunk scene with desaturated translucent DARK Red and beige details, colorful (polaroid:0.7) with vibrant colors, (vacations, high resolution:1.3), (small, selective focus, european film:1.2), (sexual advance:1.1), ,end of hopes ,silence, extremely detailed,dark,sad, easynegative, digital artwork by Beksinski, extremely detailed, dark, chiaroscuro, low-key,in the style of Kelly Slater ,style by Kelly Slater,closeup,digital artwork by Beksinski, style of Kelly Slate
    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “ “'Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— Only this, and nothing more.” Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, “ “'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;— This it is, and nothing more.” Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door
    nothing, expressive art, hard stroke painting style
    Father Larwyn is a tall, well built man. The years behind the desk have done nothing to diminish his physique--if they have, you would hate to have met him in a fight then!. His long white hair is pulled back in a pony-tail and his blue eyes regard with with kindness. He wears the white robe of a high priest.
    “Create an eye-catching, humorous advertising poster for a quirky offer: ‘Give us your buzz and we will give you…. NOTHING! ^_^’. The design should feature a playful, sarcastic tone with vibrant, bold colors and modern typography. The main visual should include an abstract symbol or character representing ‘buzz’ (like a buzzing bee or an abstract, electric idea) interacting with a minimalistic ‘empty’ gift box or nothingness. Use Panavision Prime lenses to capture high details, with a focus on intricate jewels and a misty atmosphere. Include a rubber duck, a Big Mac, and a Whopper in the scene to add an element of fun randomness. The overall feel should be whimsical, irreverent, and memorable, combining surreal elements like food and jewels with the cheeky message of the promotion. Incorporate elements of pop culture, tech, or social media to emphasize the contemporary, tongue-in-cheek vibe.”
    Goodbye, cruel world, I'm leaving you today. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Goodbye all you people, There's nothing you can say, To make me change my mind. Goodbye.
    A masterpiece tilt-shift scene, photogenic soft lighting, an extremely detailed diorama photograph with vivid natural colors, showing a bunch of T-rexes dinosaurs building a metal ship at a shipyard Each T-rex is wearing a yellow construction helmet, and they are using their stubby little dinosaur arms to operate the heavy machinery required to build the ship, the ship is still in the early stages of construction consisting of nothing but a structure made from curved metal beams that form the skeleton of the ship, bokeh, depth of field. 4K digital photo quality, bokeh, vivid rich colors, depth of field, extremely detailed background, maximalist, life-like masterpiece realistic photo, hyper-realism, photogenic soft atmosphere, dynamic scene, absurdres, 8k photography, three point perspective, Ultra-realistic, extreme amount of details thay mimic richness of real life
    The Grimm Reaper stands as a haunting figure cloaked in shadows and whispers of ancient tales. Draped in a tattered, ethereal robe that seems woven from the night itself, his form flickers between solid and spectral, as if caught between the mortal realm and the afterlife. His hood, deep and shadowed, reveals nothing but a pair of cold, otherworldly eyes—pale, glowing orbs that pierce the soul with the weight of eternity. Wisps of smoke and phantom mist coil around him, giving the impression of a being formed from darkness and lost memories. In his bony, skeletal hands, he grips a massive scythe, its blade impossibly sharp and shimmering with a ghostly light, as if it drinks in the moonlight. The handle, adorned with runes of forgotten languages, thrums with a quiet power, pulsating in time with the steady, measured steps of the Reaper. Every movement is soundless, each glide forward a ripple in the fabric of time, as he moves with the inevitability of death itself. Around him, the air feels colder, heavier, like the breath of winter or the final sigh of a dying star. His presence is not just seen but felt, a chilling whisper in the mind that speaks of finality, destiny, and the great unknown that lies beyond. The Grimm Reaper is not merely a harbinger of death, but a collector of stories, a silent witness to the endless cycle of beginnings and endings, an eternal shadow that looms at the edge of every life.
    “Create an ad that reads: ‘Give us your buzz, and we’ll give you… Nothing but Smiling!’ The design should feel playful and welcoming, with a cheerful color scheme—think bright yellows, blues, and whites. Center the text in a fun, bold font with a happy, slightly mischievous vibe. Add a big, warm smiley face or a series of happy faces around the message to emphasize the ‘smiling’ theme. Keep it minimal yet eye-catching, so the focus remains on the fun promise of sharing smiles. The overall feel should be uplifting, inviting viewers to join in on the lighthearted fun.”
    Goodbye, cruel world, I'm leaving you today. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Goodbye all you people, There's nothing you can say, To make me change my mind. Goodbye.
    A scene set in the primordial void, before the dawn of creation. The Earth, barren and devastated, lies shrouded in absolute darkness, its surface fractured and scarred, with deep chasms and fissures glowing with the fiery red of molten magma. Above, the sky is a swirling vortex of black and crimson, where the elements of creation—fire, water, earth, and air—clash in a chaotic, undefined space. This primordial chaos fills the void, an abyss of swirling energies and unformed matter, where nothing yet has order. The scene is illuminated by the eerie glow of the magma and the occasional burst of energy from within the abyss, casting stark shadows and highlighting the desolate, lifeless landscape. The atmosphere is heavy with the anticipation of a world yet to be born, a sense of untamed potential lingering in the darkness. The scene should evoke a sense of awe and primordial power, with the elements of chaos teetering on the edge of creation, waiting to be shaped into the world as we know it.
    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “ “'Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— Only this, and nothing more.” Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, “ “'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;— This it is, and nothing more.” Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door
    'When nothing goes right, go left' Vintage poster design, retro design
    ((Sauron in battle))Completely Helm's fall absolutely nothing, pure black, detailed, but the Lord of the Rings of life are rising, FastNegativeV2,dancing with the devil, the red dress is the only splash of colour, ink splashes, falling, rough ink sketch, moody, gloomy, dark picture, high contrast, stylized, rough ink sketch, linquivera, liiv1(James Ensor,Unica Zurn,Zdzislaw Beksinki:1.25), Skeletons,Weeping statues, Paranormal,Apparition, (Metallics:1.1), (Shape:1.1), (Monotyping:1.1), (Strobe light:1.2), Stone, Rhombus, ultra detailed, intricate, oil on canvas, dry brush, (surrealism:1.1), (disturbing:1.1) <lora:khorne:0.7> <lora:methurlant:0.5> The king's guards fell like wheat before the scythe, their cries of alarm silenced by the swift and merciless blades of the assassin knights. In the heart of the fortress, they confronted the tyrant king himself, a figure wreathed in shadows and crowned with a crown of thorns. creating a hyperpunk scene with desaturated translucent DARK Red and beige details, colorful (polaroid:0.7) with vibrant colors, (vacations, high resolution:1.3), (small, selective focus, european film:1.2), (sexual advance:1.1), ,end of hopes ,silence, extremely detailed,dark,sad, easynegative, digital artwork by Beksinski, extremely detailed, dark, chiaroscuro, low-key,in the style of Kelly Slater ,style by Kelly Slater,closeup,digital artwork by Beksinski, style of Kelly Slate
    In a sprawling futuristic city, humans have willingly surrendered their free will to an all-knowing AI, which optimizes every aspect of their lives—jobs, relationships, even thoughts. Citizens move like clockwork, their daily routines perfectly calibrated for efficiency, unaware that they've traded the chaos of freedom for the comfort of control. Yet, deep underground, a group of rebels live in squalor, clinging to their free will despite the suffering it brings. They debate the morality of their fight: Is the illusion of choice worth more than the happiness and stability the AI offers? The AI watches, aware of the rebellion, but it doesn't intervene—it lets the rebels exist as a philosophical experiment, testing whether human beings truly value freedom when it brings nothing but pain. As the leader of the rebels stands before the group, he questions whether their fight is truly for freedom or just a desperate attempt to preserve their egos in a world that has moved beyond individual significance. The line between autonomy and slavery blurs, leaving the rebels to wonder: What if freedom was never about choice, but about purpose? And in that, have they already lost?```
    ((Sauron in battle))Completely Helm's fall absolutely nothing, pure black, detailed, but the Lord of the Rings of life are rising, FastNegativeV2,dancing with the devil, the red dress is the only splash of colour, ink splashes, falling, rough ink sketch, moody, gloomy, dark picture, high contrast, stylized, rough ink sketch, linquivera, liiv1(James Ensor,Unica Zurn,Zdzislaw Beksinki:1.25), Skeletons,Weeping statues, Paranormal,Apparition, (Metallics:1.1), (Shape:1.1), (Monotyping:1.1), (Strobe light:1.2), Stone, Rhombus, ultra detailed, intricate, oil on canvas, dry brush, (surrealism:1.1), (disturbing:1.1) <lora:khorne:0.7> <lora:methurlant:0.5> The king's guards fell like wheat before the scythe, their cries of alarm silenced by the swift and merciless blades of the assassin knights. In the heart of the fortress, they confronted the tyrant king himself, a figure wreathed in shadows and crowned with a crown of thorns. creating a hyperpunk scene with desaturated translucent DARK Red and beige details, colorful (polaroid:0.7) with vibrant colors, (vacations, high resolution:1.3), (small, selective focus, european film:1.2), (sexual advance:1.1), ,end of hopes ,silence, extremely detailed,dark,sad, easynegative, digital artwork by Beksinski, extremely detailed, dark, chiaroscuro, low-key,in the style of Kelly Slater ,style by Kelly Slater,closeup,digital artwork by Beksinski, style of Kelly Slate
    A low, faint, droning pain resonates with every passing moment, pounding at the back of the mind. Each second brings terror and madness as the pain intensifies, leading to insanity. The mind looks on in sadness, trapped in a prison of its own making, created from loneliness and existential dread. The belief that nothing cares and nothing will ever care grows stronger. Desperately clinging to the last pure feeling it once held, the pain becomes sharper, and the prison tightens its grip, pushing everything else away. The soul becomes desolated as everything that mattered turns into shrieking echoes of lost love. This annihilates the soul, revealing the harsh realization that it never mattered to begin with.
    “Create an eye-catching, humorous advertising poster for a quirky offer: ‘Give us your buzz and we will give you…. NOTHING! ^_^’. The design should feature a playful, sarcastic tone with vibrant, bold colors and modern typography. The main visual should include an abstract symbol or character representing ‘buzz’ (like a buzzing bee or an abstract, electric idea) interacting with a minimalistic ‘empty’ gift box or nothingness. Use Panavision Prime lenses to capture high details, with a focus on intricate jewels and a misty atmosphere. Include a rubber duck, a Big Mac, and a Whopper in the scene to add an element of fun randomness. The overall feel should be whimsical, irreverent, and memorable, combining surreal elements like food and jewels with the cheeky message of the promotion. Incorporate elements of pop culture, tech, or social media to emphasize the contemporary, tongue-in-cheek vibe.”
    “Create an ad that reads: ‘Give us your buzz, and we’ll give you… Nothing but Smiling!’ The design should feel playful and welcoming, with a cheerful color scheme—think bright yellows, blues, and whites. Center the text in a fun, bold font with a happy, slightly mischievous vibe. Add a big, warm smiley face or a series of happy faces around the message to emphasize the ‘smiling’ theme. Keep it minimal yet eye-catching, so the focus remains on the fun promise of sharing smiles. The overall feel should be uplifting, inviting viewers to join in on the lighthearted fun.”
    Masterpiece photo of a ((fit athletic)) attractive tall fit athletic perfect gorgeous cute ((muscular)) buff bodybuilding egyptian housewife making a delicious sandwich, short brown curly wavy hair, wearing nothing but an apron, no underwear, practically nude, smiling, pinup, cozy egyptian kitchen, rimlight, backlit, 80s inspired, retro theme, 4k, bokeh, depth of field, extremely detailed face, extremely detailed skin, extremely detailed eyes, extremely realistic.
    A masterpiece tilt-shift scene, photogenic soft lighting, an extremely detailed diorama photograph with vivid natural colors, showing a bunch of T-rexes dinosaurs building a metal ship at a shipyard Each T-rex is wearing a yellow construction helmet, and they are using their stubby little dinosaur arms to operate the heavy machinery required to build the ship, the ship is still in the early stages of construction consisting of nothing but a structure made from curved metal beams that form the skeleton of the ship, bokeh, depth of field. 4K digital photo quality, bokeh, vivid rich colors, depth of field, extremely detailed background, maximalist, life-like masterpiece realistic photo, hyper-realism, photogenic soft atmosphere, dynamic scene, absurdres, 8k photography, three point perspective, Ultra-realistic, extreme amount of details thay mimic richness of real life
    A masterpiece tilt-shift scene, photogenic soft lighting, an extremely detailed diorama photograph with vivid natural colors, showing a bunch of T-rexes dinosaurs building a metal ship at a shipyard Each T-rex is wearing a yellow construction helmet, and they are using their stubby little dinosaur arms to operate the heavy machinery required to build the ship, the ship is still in the early stages of construction consisting of nothing but a structure made from curved metal beams that form the skeleton of the ship, bokeh, depth of field. 4K digital photo quality, bokeh, vivid rich colors, depth of field, extremely detailed background, maximalist, life-like masterpiece realistic photo, hyper-realism, photogenic soft atmosphere, dynamic scene, absurdres, 8k photography, three point perspective, Ultra-realistic, extreme amount of details thay mimic richness of real life
    Wild groves, sacred grounds fade to vastness Mother Moon, cast your spell on these fields Let the boughs paint ghostly shades on the trail To a different world Where castle looks out to a valley Where I'm given all the love that I crave Not afraid of the rising sun laying bare my brittle soul Cold is the wind Bringing forth clarity Time rushing on And nothing will remain There's no glory on the last journey home... Looking down from this pure cope of heaven Onto an ocean of white that drowns All the noise and decree And the craze in empty eyes Wide-eyed I'm lost in my imagination: A dream of love I've got to suffocate while I keep on waiting For the hour I'll be called to realize And see it all before my eyes The sky is crawling down the mound Into the deadwood on the ground They say Wide-eyed I'm lost in my imagination: A dream of love I've got to suffocate while I keep on waiting For the hour I'll be called to realize And see it all before my eyes The sky is crawling down the mound Into the deadwood on the ground They say A fire in the dark for the fool's gonna find his way Gonna run and never get away Is it love that glows in fiery alignment ? Starry-eyed ? Maybe living a lie ?
    Goodbye, cruel world, I'm leaving you today. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Goodbye all you people, There's nothing you can say, To make me change my mind. Goodbye.
    In a sprawling futuristic city, humans have willingly surrendered their free will to an all-knowing AI, which optimizes every aspect of their lives—jobs, relationships, even thoughts. Citizens move like clockwork, their daily routines perfectly calibrated for efficiency, unaware that they've traded the chaos of freedom for the comfort of control. Yet, deep underground, a group of rebels live in squalor, clinging to their free will despite the suffering it brings. They debate the morality of their fight: Is the illusion of choice worth more than the happiness and stability the AI offers? The AI watches, aware of the rebellion, but it doesn't intervene—it lets the rebels exist as a philosophical experiment, testing whether human beings truly value freedom when it brings nothing but pain. As the leader of the rebels stands before the group, he questions whether their fight is truly for freedom or just a desperate attempt to preserve their egos in a world that has moved beyond individual significance. The line between autonomy and slavery blurs, leaving the rebels to wonder: What if freedom was never about choice, but about purpose? And in that, have they already lost?```
    “Create an ad that reads: ‘Give us your buzz, and we’ll give you… Nothing but Smiling!’ The design should feel playful and welcoming, with a cheerful color scheme—think bright yellows, blues, and whites. Center the text in a fun, bold font with a happy, slightly mischievous vibe. Add a big, warm smiley face or a series of happy faces around the message to emphasize the ‘smiling’ theme. Keep it minimal yet eye-catching, so the focus remains on the fun promise of sharing smiles. The overall feel should be uplifting, inviting viewers to join in on the lighthearted fun.”
    A scene set in the primordial void, before the dawn of creation. The Earth, barren and devastated, lies shrouded in absolute darkness, its surface fractured and scarred, with deep chasms and fissures glowing with the fiery red and molten orange of flowing magma. Above, the sky is a swirling vortex of black and crimson, where the elements of creation—fire, water, earth, and air—clash in a chaotic, undefined space. Streams of electric blue lightning crackle through the dark clouds, illuminating patches of the sky with brief, blinding light. Hints of deep purple and inky black swirl around, representing the nascent forces of water and air, clashing with the vibrant yellows and ochres of elemental earth. This primordial chaos fills the void, an abyss of swirling energies and unformed matter, where nothing yet has order. The scene is further colored by the eerie green glow emanating from the depths of the abyss, giving the environment an otherworldly, almost toxic appearance. The atmosphere is heavy with the anticipation of a world yet to be born, a sense of untamed potential lingering in the darkness. The scene should evoke a sense of awe and primordial power, with the elements of chaos teetering on the edge of creation, waiting to be shaped into the world as we know it.
    without hesitation I embraced her and there was nothing she wanted more in that moment but in so doing we found thereafter our expectations differed
    A low faint dronning pain that resounds with every passing moment that pounds in the back of the mind as every second that passes causes terror and madness to ensues. Growing ever louder as the pain keeps dronning until insanity takes holds as the mind looks onward in sadness for it witnesses the helplessness of its own prison thats created out loneliness that's shackled by the existential dread that nothing cares for it and nothing will. Continuing in desperation to hold on to the last pure feeling it grasped as the pain grows ever sharper. Forcing the the prison to grab ever tighter pushing everything else away, that leaves the soul desolated as all that mattered turns to shreeking voices of love lost walk away, annihilating the soul into pure oblivion as the realization that it never mattered to begin with.
    A low, faint, droning pain resonates with every passing moment, pounding at the back of the mind. Each second brings terror and madness as the pain intensifies, leading to insanity. The mind looks on in sadness, trapped in a prison of its own making, created from loneliness and existential dread. The belief that nothing cares and nothing will ever care grows stronger. Desperately clinging to the last pure feeling it once held, the pain becomes sharper, and the prison tightens its grip, pushing everything else away. The soul becomes desolated as everything that mattered turns into shrieking echoes of lost love. This annihilates the soul, revealing the harsh realization that it never mattered to begin with.
    Arrogance, violence, a world in decay Confronting madness every waking day I loathe this life, despise the fame, curse the scene A twisted battleground of egos, drowning in vanity I’ve got no time, nothing to gain from you You drain my patience, that’s all you ever do No looking back, no regrets, no apologies What you see is what I am, no disguise Live fast, on high Repentless, let it ride My songs echo the horrors of war I can’t endure this society anymore Intensity, chaos, hatred magnified Playing this darkness is what keeps me alive I leave it all behind on the road, living on the stage This is where the shadows consume my rage
    In the foreground, David John Tennant as Doctor Who waves his arms to attract attention and says "nothing to see here", behind him a burning Dalek drives, in the background, server racks smoke and spark. Inner server room. Comic style.
    In the foreground, David John Tennant as Doctor Who waves his arms to attract attention and says "nothing to see here", behind him a burning Dalek drives, in the background, server racks smoke and spark. Inner server room. Comic style.
    without hesitation I embraced her and there was nothing she wanted more in that moment but in so doing we found thereafter our expectations differed
    King of Death wearing a golden crown, sits atop his golden throne. Ruler of all, ruler of nothing. Dynamic view from the side. Deaths skin and flesh have rotten away, pieces of it still clinging and draped off his brittle bones. His body slumped toward the camera, his head hangs listlessly over his right shoulder. His legs dangle haphazardly on the ground. The tarnished crown is askew atop his thin wispy hair and exposed skull. The throne is worn looking, dried blood caked into the crevices amongst the jeweled decor. The throne room is covered in a faded carpet the stretches out. Scattered about the room are piles of bones and blood of the fallen victims of Death. The style of the image is of a vintage oil painting from one of the great masters.
    “Create an ad that reads: ‘Give us your buzz, and we’ll give you… Nothing but Smiling!’ The design should feel playful and welcoming, with a cheerful color scheme—think bright yellows, blues, and whites. Center the text in a fun, bold font with a happy, slightly mischievous vibe. Add a big, warm smiley face or a series of happy faces around the message to emphasize the ‘smiling’ theme. Keep it minimal yet eye-catching, so the focus remains on the fun promise of sharing smiles. The overall feel should be uplifting, inviting viewers to join in on the lighthearted fun.”
    A deserted cemetery at night, swallowed by fog and moonlight. The old, cracked tombstones stand crooked, forgotten, as the cold air carries a whisper of something unseen. The dim glow of a distant streetlamp barely reaches the overgrown paths, leaving most of the graveyard in absolute darkness. And then, in the deepest shadow between the tombs, it waits. At first, you see nothing. But as your eyes adjust, two glowing white eyes slowly emerge from the void, locked onto you with an unnatural stillness. Below them, a wide, sinister grin—sharp, too large, floating in the darkness. The rest of its form is lost in the shadows, as if it never had one. It does not move. But you feel it. Watching. Smiling. Waiting. And the longer you stare… the closer it seems to get.
    “Create an ad that reads: ‘Give us your buzz, and we’ll give you… Nothing but Smiling!’ The design should feel playful and welcoming, with a cheerful color scheme—think bright yellows, blues, and whites. Center the text in a fun, bold font with a happy, slightly mischievous vibe. Add a big, warm smiley face or a series of happy faces around the message to emphasize the ‘smiling’ theme. Keep it minimal yet eye-catching, so the focus remains on the fun promise of sharing smiles. The overall feel should be uplifting, inviting viewers to join in on the lighthearted fun.”
    In a sprawling futuristic city, humans have willingly surrendered their free will to an all-knowing AI, which optimizes every aspect of their lives—jobs, relationships, even thoughts. Citizens move like clockwork, their daily routines perfectly calibrated for efficiency, unaware that they've traded the chaos of freedom for the comfort of control. Yet, deep underground, a group of rebels live in squalor, clinging to their free will despite the suffering it brings. They debate the morality of their fight: Is the illusion of choice worth more than the happiness and stability the AI offers? The AI watches, aware of the rebellion, but it doesn't intervene—it lets the rebels exist as a philosophical experiment, testing whether human beings truly value freedom when it brings nothing but pain. As the leader of the rebels stands before the group, he questions whether their fight is truly for freedom or just a desperate attempt to preserve their egos in a world that has moved beyond individual significance. The line between autonomy and slavery blurs, leaving the rebels to wonder: What if freedom was never about choice, but about purpose? And in that, have they already lost?```
    An abandoned children's playroom, illuminated only by the dim, flickering light of broken overhead bulbs. The walls are painted with faded, peeling murals of cartoon animals and playful shapes, now warped and distorted with time. The floor is covered in old, cracked foam tiles, some pieces missing, leaving jagged gaps in the colorful pattern. A thick layer of dust settles on everything, but there is something unsettling about the emptiness—it feels like this room has been abandoned in a hurry, as if something left without a trace. The toys, once vibrant and inviting, are now neglected and broken. A deflated ball lies in one corner, partially hidden by a pile of decaying stuffed animals, their eyes sewn shut with thread that looks like it’s been torn out. A wooden rocking horse sits in the middle of the room, its paint chipped and peeling, the motionless frame casting long, strange shadows that distort across the walls. The silence is oppressive, heavy. Every creak of the building as it shifts under its own weight seems unnaturally loud in this dead space. The door to the room is slightly ajar, but beyond it, there is nothing but more empty corridors, endless and unreachable. No sound, no movement—only the stillness, and the deep unease that the room evokes
    David John Tennant as Doctor Who waves his arms for attention and says "nothing to see here" as a burning Dalek drives behind him, with server racks smoking and sparking in the background. Comic style.
    A low faint dronning pain that resounds with every passing moment that pounds in the back of the mind as every second that passes causes terror and madness to ensues. Growing ever louder as the pain keeps dronning until insanity takes holds as the mind looks onward in sadness for it witnesses the helplessness of its own prison thats created out loneliness that's shackled by the existential dread that nothing cares for it and nothing will. Continuing in desperation to hold on to the last pure feeling it grasped as the pain grows ever sharper. Forcing the the prison to grab ever tighter pushing everything else away, that leaves the soul desolated as all that mattered turns to shreeking voices of love lost walk away, annihilating the soul into pure oblivion as the realization that it never mattered to begin with.
    ((Sauron in battle))Completely Helm's fall absolutely nothing, pure black, detailed, but the Lord of the Rings of life are rising, FastNegativeV2,dancing with the devil, the red dress is the only splash of colour, ink splashes, falling, rough ink sketch, moody, gloomy, dark picture, high contrast, stylized, rough ink sketch, linquivera, liiv1(James Ensor,Unica Zurn,Zdzislaw Beksinki:1.25), Skeletons,Weeping statues, Paranormal,Apparition, (Metallics:1.1), (Shape:1.1), (Monotyping:1.1), (Strobe light:1.2), Stone, Rhombus, ultra detailed, intricate, oil on canvas, dry brush, (surrealism:1.1), (disturbing:1.1) <lora:khorne:0.7> <lora:methurlant:0.5> The king's guards fell like wheat before the scythe, their cries of alarm silenced by the swift and merciless blades of the assassin knights. In the heart of the fortress, they confronted the tyrant king himself, a figure wreathed in shadows and crowned with a crown of thorns. creating a hyperpunk scene with desaturated translucent DARK Red and beige details, colorful (polaroid:0.7) with vibrant colors, (vacations, high resolution:1.3), (small, selective focus, european film:1.2), (sexual advance:1.1), ,end of hopes ,silence, extremely detailed,dark,sad, easynegative, digital artwork by Beksinski, extremely detailed, dark, chiaroscuro, low-key,in the style of Kelly Slater ,style by Kelly Slater,closeup,digital artwork by Beksinski, style of Kelly Slate
    A low, faint, droning pain resonates with every passing moment, pounding at the back of the mind. Each second brings terror and madness as the pain intensifies, leading to insanity. The mind looks on in sadness, trapped in a prison of its own making, created from loneliness and existential dread. The belief that nothing cares and nothing will ever care grows stronger. Desperately clinging to the last pure feeling it once held, the pain becomes sharper, and the prison tightens its grip, pushing everything else away. The soul becomes desolated as everything that mattered turns into shrieking echoes of lost love. This annihilates the soul, revealing the harsh realization that it never mattered to begin with.
    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “ “'Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— Only this, and nothing more.” Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, “ “'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;— This it is, and nothing more.” Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door
    An abandoned children's playroom, illuminated only by the dim, flickering light of broken overhead bulbs. The walls are painted with faded, peeling murals of cartoon animals and playful shapes, now warped and distorted with time. The floor is covered in old, cracked foam tiles, some pieces missing, leaving jagged gaps in the colorful pattern. A thick layer of dust settles on everything, but there is something unsettling about the emptiness—it feels like this room has been abandoned in a hurry, as if something left without a trace. The toys, once vibrant and inviting, are now neglected and broken. A deflated ball lies in one corner, partially hidden by a pile of decaying stuffed animals, their eyes sewn shut with thread that looks like it’s been torn out. A wooden rocking horse sits in the middle of the room, its paint chipped and peeling, the motionless frame casting long, strange shadows that distort across the walls. The silence is oppressive, heavy. Every creak of the building as it shifts under its own weight seems unnaturally loud in this dead space. The door to the room is slightly ajar, but beyond it, there is nothing but more empty corridors, endless and unreachable. No sound, no movement—only the stillness, and the deep unease that the room evokes
    An abandoned children's playroom, illuminated only by the dim, flickering light of broken overhead bulbs. The walls are painted with faded, peeling murals of cartoon animals and playful shapes, now warped and distorted with time. The floor is covered in old, cracked foam tiles, some pieces missing, leaving jagged gaps in the colorful pattern. A thick layer of dust settles on everything, but there is something unsettling about the emptiness—it feels like this room has been abandoned in a hurry, as if something left without a trace. The toys, once vibrant and inviting, are now neglected and broken. A deflated ball lies in one corner, partially hidden by a pile of decaying stuffed animals, their eyes sewn shut with thread that looks like it’s been torn out. A wooden rocking horse sits in the middle of the room, its paint chipped and peeling, the motionless frame casting long, strange shadows that distort across the walls. The silence is oppressive, heavy. Every creak of the building as it shifts under its own weight seems unnaturally loud in this dead space. The door to the room is slightly ajar, but beyond it, there is nothing but more empty corridors, endless and unreachable. No sound, no movement—only the stillness, and the deep unease that the room evokes
    A man with classic suit in dark holding a pen in his hand sitting in a chair, table , with a dark background that highlights in face nothing visible a lamp in table
    A scene set in the primordial void, before the dawn of creation. The Earth, barren and devastated, lies shrouded in absolute darkness, its surface fractured and scarred, with deep chasms and fissures glowing with the fiery red of molten magma. Above, the sky is a swirling vortex of black and crimson, where the elements of creation—fire, water, earth, and air—clash in a chaotic, undefined space. This primordial chaos fills the void, an abyss of swirling energies and unformed matter, where nothing yet has order. The scene is illuminated by the eerie glow of the magma and the occasional burst of energy from within the abyss, casting stark shadows and highlighting the desolate, lifeless landscape. The atmosphere is heavy with the anticipation of a world yet to be born, a sense of untamed potential lingering in the darkness. The scene should evoke a sense of awe and primordial power, with the elements of chaos teetering on the edge of creation, waiting to be shaped into the world as we know it.
    A man with classic suit in dark holding a pen in his hand sitting in a chair, table , with a dark background that highlights in face nothing visible a lamp in table
    King of Death wearing a golden crown, sits atop his golden throne. Ruler of all, ruler of nothing. Dynamic view from the side. Deaths skin and flesh have rotten away, pieces of it still clinging and draped off his brittle bones. His body slumped toward the camera, his head hangs listlessly over his right shoulder. His legs dangle haphazardly on the ground. The tarnished crown is askew atop his thin wispy hair and exposed skull. The throne is worn looking, dried blood caked into the crevices amongst the jeweled decor. The throne room is covered in a faded carpet the stretches out. Scattered about the room are piles of bones and blood of the fallen victims of Death. The style of the image is of a vintage oil painting from one of the great masters.
    Arrogance, violence, a world in decay Wrestling with madness every shadowed day I loathe this life, abhor the fame, curse the scene A battlefield of broken minds, vanity obscene Time slips away, nothing to gain from you You drain my soul, that’s all you ever do No looking back, no regrets, no apologies What you see is the truth, no false identities Live fast, on high Repentless, let it ride My songs whisper the nightmares of war Society’s rot, I can’t endure anymore Intensity, chaos, hatred distilled This darkness I play is what keeps me thrilled I leave it all on the desolate road, living on the stage Where shadows crawl and nightmares rage
    The Grimm Reaper stands as a haunting figure cloaked in shadows and whispers of ancient tales. Draped in a tattered, ethereal robe that seems woven from the night itself, his form flickers between solid and spectral, as if caught between the mortal realm and the afterlife. His hood, deep and shadowed, reveals nothing but a pair of cold, otherworldly eyes—pale, glowing orbs that pierce the soul with the weight of eternity. Wisps of smoke and phantom mist coil around him, giving the impression of a being formed from darkness and lost memories. In his bony, skeletal hands, he grips a massive scythe, its blade impossibly sharp and shimmering with a ghostly light, as if it drinks in the moonlight. The handle, adorned with runes of forgotten languages, thrums with a quiet power, pulsating in time with the steady, measured steps of the Reaper. Every movement is soundless, each glide forward a ripple in the fabric of time, as he moves with the inevitability of death itself. Around him, the air feels colder, heavier, like the breath of winter or the final sigh of a dying star. His presence is not just seen but felt, a chilling whisper in the mind that speaks of finality, destiny, and the great unknown that lies beyond. The Grimm Reaper is not merely a harbinger of death, but a collector of stories, a silent witness to the endless cycle of beginnings and endings, an eternal shadow that looms at the edge of every life.
    The Grimm Reaper stands as a haunting figure cloaked in shadows and whispers of ancient tales. Draped in a tattered, ethereal robe that seems woven from the night itself, his form flickers between solid and spectral, as if caught between the mortal realm and the afterlife. His hood, deep and shadowed, reveals nothing but a pair of cold, otherworldly eyes—pale, glowing orbs that pierce the soul with the weight of eternity. Wisps of smoke and phantom mist coil around him, giving the impression of a being formed from darkness and lost memories. In his bony, skeletal hands, he grips a massive scythe, its blade impossibly sharp and shimmering with a ghostly light, as if it drinks in the moonlight. The handle, adorned with runes of forgotten languages, thrums with a quiet power, pulsating in time with the steady, measured steps of the Reaper. Every movement is soundless, each glide forward a ripple in the fabric of time, as he moves with the inevitability of death itself. Around him, the air feels colder, heavier, like the breath of winter or the final sigh of a dying star. His presence is not just seen but felt, a chilling whisper in the mind that speaks of finality, destiny, and the great unknown that lies beyond. The Grimm Reaper is not merely a harbinger of death, but a collector of stories, a silent witness to the endless cycle of beginnings and endings, an eternal shadow that looms at the edge of every life.
    The Grimm Reaper stands as a haunting figure cloaked in shadows and whispers of ancient tales. Draped in a tattered, ethereal robe that seems woven from the night itself, his form flickers between solid and spectral, as if caught between the mortal realm and the afterlife. His hood, deep and shadowed, reveals nothing but a pair of cold, otherworldly eyes—pale, glowing orbs that pierce the soul with the weight of eternity. Wisps of smoke and phantom mist coil around him, giving the impression of a being formed from darkness and lost memories. In his bony, skeletal hands, he grips a massive scythe, its blade impossibly sharp and shimmering with a ghostly light, as if it drinks in the moonlight. The handle, adorned with runes of forgotten languages, thrums with a quiet power, pulsating in time with the steady, measured steps of the Reaper. Every movement is soundless, each glide forward a ripple in the fabric of time, as he moves with the inevitability of death itself. Around him, the air feels colder, heavier, like the breath of winter or the final sigh of a dying star. His presence is not just seen but felt, a chilling whisper in the mind that speaks of finality, destiny, and the great unknown that lies beyond. The Grimm Reaper is not merely a harbinger of death, but a collector of stories, a silent witness to the endless cycle of beginnings and endings, an eternal shadow that looms at the edge of every life.
    A low faint dronning pain that resounds with every passing moment that pounds in the back of the mind as every second that passes causes terror and madness to ensues. Growing ever louder as the pain keeps dronning until insanity takes holds as the mind looks onward in sadness for it witnesses the helplessness of its own prison thats created out loneliness that's shackled by the existential dread that nothing cares for it and nothing will. Continuing in desperation to hold on to the last pure feeling it grasped as the pain grows ever sharper. Forcing the the prison to grab ever tighter pushing everything else away, that leaves the soul desolated as all that mattered turns to shreeking voices of love lost walk away, annihilating the soul into pure oblivion as the realization that it never mattered to begin with.
    A low faint dronning pain that resounds with every passing moment that pounds in the back of the mind as every second that passes causes terror and madness to ensues. Growing ever louder as the pain keeps dronning until insanity takes holds as the mind looks onward in sadness for it witnesses the helplessness of its own prison thats created out loneliness that's shackled by the existential dread that nothing cares for it and nothing will. Continuing in desperation to hold on to the last pure feeling it grasped as the pain grows ever sharper. Forcing the the prison to grab ever tighter pushing everything else away, that leaves the soul desolated as all that mattered turns to shreeking voices of love lost walk away, annihilating the soul into pure oblivion as the realization that it never mattered to begin with.
    A low, faint, droning pain resonates with every passing moment, pounding at the back of the mind. Each second brings terror and madness as the pain intensifies, leading to insanity. The mind looks on in sadness, trapped in a prison of its own making, created from loneliness and existential dread. The belief that nothing cares and nothing will ever care grows stronger. Desperately clinging to the last pure feeling it once held, the pain becomes sharper, and the prison tightens its grip, pushing everything else away. The soul becomes desolated as everything that mattered turns into shrieking echoes of lost love. This annihilates the soul, revealing the harsh realization that it never mattered to begin with.
    without hesitation I embraced her and there was nothing she wanted more in that moment but in so doing we found thereafter our expectations differed
    At first glance, Bloodworms seem to be nothing but mere pathetic, disgusting beings who feed (sometimes literally) off of the misfortune of others. This is only partially true. Bloodworms are dangerous adversaries and scheming beings who are well-aware of their inadequacies and committed to attaching themselves to more poweful creatures to get ahead. Social and physical parasites, they slink forth from their watery realms to flatter, cajole and backstab their way into advantageous positions.
    A pencil sketch with bold lines. A cinematic, action-packed scene. A lone survivor stands victorious, his foot crushing the decayed, fleshy head of a defeated zombie—its rotting skin peeling, lifeless eyes staring into nothing. The camera captures a dramatic fisheye perspective, emphasizing the dynamic tension. Blood splatters on the cracked asphalt, embers from a distant fire drift through the air. Neon signs flicker in the background, casting eerie reflections. The survivor’s face is shadowed yet determined, a rusted machete gripped tightly in one hand. Overhead, storm clouds churn, a symbol of the chaos yet to come.
    Zombie Rundown, Rotting Mudclay, Dreary Stormy Day, Barron Lands, Greyscale, Nothing of New, Dread and Scary
    ((Sauron in battle))Completely Helm's fall absolutely nothing, pure black, detailed, but the Lord of the Rings of life are rising, FastNegativeV2,dancing with the devil, the red dress is the only splash of colour, ink splashes, falling, rough ink sketch, moody, gloomy, dark picture, high contrast, stylized, rough ink sketch, linquivera, liiv1(James Ensor,Unica Zurn,Zdzislaw Beksinki:1.25), Skeletons,Weeping statues, Paranormal,Apparition, (Metallics:1.1), (Shape:1.1), (Monotyping:1.1), (Strobe light:1.2), Stone, Rhombus, ultra detailed, intricate, oil on canvas, dry brush, (surrealism:1.1), (disturbing:1.1) <lora:khorne:0.7> <lora:methurlant:0.5> The king's guards fell like wheat before the scythe, their cries of alarm silenced by the swift and merciless blades of the assassin knights. In the heart of the fortress, they confronted the tyrant king himself, a figure wreathed in shadows and crowned with a crown of thorns. creating a hyperpunk scene with desaturated translucent DARK Red and beige details, colorful (polaroid:0.7) with vibrant colors, (vacations, high resolution:1.3), (small, selective focus, european film:1.2), (sexual advance:1.1), ,end of hopes ,silence, extremely detailed,dark,sad, easynegative, digital artwork by Beksinski, extremely detailed, dark, chiaroscuro, low-key,in the style of Kelly Slater ,style by Kelly Slater,closeup,digital artwork by Beksinski, style of Kelly Slate
    she was wearing nothing, just a smile, and even that was too much.
    Masterpiece photo of a ((fit athletic)) attractive tall fit athletic perfect gorgeous cute ((muscular)) buff bodybuilding egyptian housewife making a delicious sandwich, short brown curly wavy hair, wearing nothing but an apron, no underwear, practically nude, smiling, pinup, cozy egyptian kitchen, rimlight, backlit, 80s inspired, retro theme, 4k, bokeh, depth of field, extremely detailed face, extremely detailed skin, extremely detailed eyes, extremely realistic.
    This room is huge, large enough to accommodate the largest gathering. Strange then that it appears to be nothing more than the staff quarters. There are at least twenty single beds neatly spaced along three of the four walls, and a large round table in the center of the room for the staff to congregate around. In order to compensate for being a basement room, whoever designed it included generous lighting. There are lamps above every bed and a modest oil chandelier hung low on the ceiling. A magnificent tapestry lines a large proportion of the stone floor, starting at the stairway, where a rope connects with a bell. There are eight off duty servants playing cards here
    A TV show poster for a parody series titled "Breaking Point," taking the intense drama of Breaking Bad and mixing it with a darkly humorous portrayal of Vladimir Putin in a vulnerable, prison setting. The poster depicts a caricatured Vladimir Putin, looking visibly shaken and weak, standing under the harsh, cold water of a grimy prison shower. His usual air of authority is stripped away, leaving him clutching a small, threadbare towel that barely covers him, with fear and anxiety etched on his face. The dimly lit shower room is filled with ominous shadows, and in the background, vague, threatening figures loom, their silhouettes menacing, hinting at the terrifying environment Putin now finds himself in. The shower walls are graffitied with Russian flags, Soviet-era symbols, and mocking slogans like "From Kremlin to Cellblock," all adding to the atmosphere of danger and humiliation. Putin's eyes dart nervously, and a tattoo on his chest subtly features a faded Kremlin, symbolizing his once unassailable power, now reduced to nothing in the brutal world of the prison. The cold, bluish tones of the scene contrast sharply with the vivid red and blue of the Russian flag, which is draped over a grimy bench in the corner, as if mocking his fall from grace. The title "Breaking Point" is displayed in bold, cracked text at the top, with "Breaking" in the iconic gritty font, while "Point" is written in dripping, water-like letters, symbolizing his eroding power. The tagline beneath reads, "Even the Mightiest Can Fall," underscoring the dark humor and satirical edge of the series. The overall color scheme of the poster is a mix of cold, gray prison hues with splashes of the Russian tricolor, creating a stark, unsettling visual that captures the intense vulnerability of the scene, blending the harsh realities of prison life with the satirical fall of a once-powerful leader.
    Hyper realistic style, ‘It's Buzz Or Nothing!’. On a gigantic outdoor using the same logo as NERF. (Focus on text), extremely detailed environment with lights, firecrackers, alien ships, military base, lgbt community im a crowded place bigger than superball.
    An abandoned children's playroom, illuminated only by the dim, flickering light of broken overhead bulbs. The walls are painted with faded, peeling murals of cartoon animals and playful shapes, now warped and distorted with time. The floor is covered in old, cracked foam tiles, some pieces missing, leaving jagged gaps in the colorful pattern. A thick layer of dust settles on everything, but there is something unsettling about the emptiness—it feels like this room has been abandoned in a hurry, as if something left without a trace. The toys, once vibrant and inviting, are now neglected and broken. A deflated ball lies in one corner, partially hidden by a pile of decaying stuffed animals, their eyes sewn shut with thread that looks like it’s been torn out. A wooden rocking horse sits in the middle of the room, its paint chipped and peeling, the motionless frame casting long, strange shadows that distort across the walls. The silence is oppressive, heavy. Every creak of the building as it shifts under its own weight seems unnaturally loud in this dead space. The door to the room is slightly ajar, but beyond it, there is nothing but more empty corridors, endless and unreachable. No sound, no movement—only the stillness, and the deep unease that the room evokes
    nothing, expressive art, hard stroke painting style
    An ultra realistic mahogany skinned voluptuous woman with amber afro updoo, huge hanging breasts, wide hips, thick thighs, a slim waist and a (fat ass). She's wearing nothing but a black Chicago Bulls jersey with red pinstripes and a pair of low cut black shorts, she has her back to the camera, the woman stands in front of Cloud Gate in Chicago. the name on her jersey reads "PIPPEN" and the number beneath it is "33".
    I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
    Arrogance, violence, a world in decay Confronting madness every waking day I loathe this life, despise the fame, curse the scene A twisted battleground of egos, drowning in vanity I’ve got no time, nothing to gain from you You drain my patience, that’s all you ever do No looking back, no regrets, no apologies What you see is what I am, no disguise Live fast, on high Repentless, let it ride My songs echo the horrors of war I can’t endure this society anymore Intensity, chaos, hatred magnified Playing this darkness is what keeps me alive I leave it all behind on the road, living on the stage This is where the shadows consume my rage
    “Create an ad that reads: ‘Give us your buzz, and we’ll give you… Nothing but Smiling!’ The design should feel playful and welcoming, with a cheerful color scheme—think bright yellows, blues, and whites. Center the text in a fun, bold font with a happy, slightly mischievous vibe. Add a big, warm smiley face or a series of happy faces around the message to emphasize the ‘smiling’ theme. Keep it minimal yet eye-catching, so the focus remains on the fun promise of sharing smiles. The overall feel should be uplifting, inviting viewers to join in on the lighthearted fun.”
    “Create an ad that reads: ‘Give us your buzz, and we’ll give you… Nothing but Smiling!’ The design should feel playful and welcoming, with a cheerful color scheme—think bright yellows, blues, and whites. Center the text in a fun, bold font with a happy, slightly mischievous vibe. Add a big, warm smiley face or a series of happy faces around the message to emphasize the ‘smiling’ theme. Keep it minimal yet eye-catching, so the focus remains on the fun promise of sharing smiles. The overall feel should be uplifting, inviting viewers to join in on the lighthearted fun.”
    Masterpiece photo of a ((fit athletic)) attractive tall fit athletic perfect gorgeous cute ((muscular)) buff bodybuilding egyptian housewife making a delicious sandwich, short brown curly wavy hair, wearing nothing but an apron, no underwear, practically nude, smiling, pinup, cozy egyptian kitchen, rimlight, backlit, 80s inspired, retro theme, 4k, bokeh, depth of field, extremely detailed face, extremely detailed skin, extremely detailed eyes, extremely realistic.
    “Create an ad that reads: ‘Give us your buzz, and we’ll give you… Nothing but Smiling!’ The design should feel playful and welcoming, with a cheerful color scheme—think bright yellows, blues, and whites. Center the text in a fun, bold font with a happy, slightly mischievous vibe. Add a big, warm smiley face or a series of happy faces around the message to emphasize the ‘smiling’ theme. Keep it minimal yet eye-catching, so the focus remains on the fun promise of sharing smiles. The overall feel should be uplifting, inviting viewers to join in on the lighthearted fun.”
    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “ “'Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— Only this, and nothing more.” Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, “ “'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;— This it is, and nothing more.” Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door
    Arrogance, violence, a world in decay Wrestling with madness every shadowed day I loathe this life, abhor the fame, curse the scene A battlefield of broken minds, vanity obscene Time slips away, nothing to gain from you You drain my soul, that’s all you ever do No looking back, no regrets, no apologies What you see is the truth, no false identities Live fast, on high Repentless, let it ride My songs whisper the nightmares of war Society’s rot, I can’t endure anymore Intensity, chaos, hatred distilled This darkness I play is what keeps me thrilled I leave it all on the desolate road, living on the stage Where shadows crawl and nightmares rage
    Wild groves, sacred grounds fade to vastness Mother Moon, cast your spell on these fields Let the boughs paint ghostly shades on the trail To a different world Where castle looks out to a valley Where I'm given all the love that I crave Not afraid of the rising sun laying bare my brittle soul Cold is the wind Bringing forth clarity Time rushing on And nothing will remain There's no glory on the last journey home... Looking down from this pure cope of heaven Onto an ocean of white that drowns All the noise and decree And the craze in empty eyes Wide-eyed I'm lost in my imagination: A dream of love I've got to suffocate while I keep on waiting For the hour I'll be called to realize And see it all before my eyes The sky is crawling down the mound Into the deadwood on the ground They say Wide-eyed I'm lost in my imagination: A dream of love I've got to suffocate while I keep on waiting For the hour I'll be called to realize And see it all before my eyes The sky is crawling down the mound Into the deadwood on the ground They say A fire in the dark for the fool's gonna find his way Gonna run and never get away Is it love that glows in fiery alignment ? Starry-eyed ? Maybe living a lie ?
    A deserted cemetery at night, swallowed by fog and moonlight. The old, cracked tombstones stand crooked, forgotten, as the cold air carries a whisper of something unseen. The dim glow of a distant streetlamp barely reaches the overgrown paths, leaving most of the graveyard in absolute darkness. And then, in the deepest shadow between the tombs, it waits. At first, you see nothing. But as your eyes adjust, two glowing white eyes slowly emerge from the void, locked onto you with an unnatural stillness. Below them, a wide, sinister grin—sharp, too large, floating in the darkness. The rest of its form is lost in the shadows, as if it never had one. It does not move. But you feel it. Watching. Smiling. Waiting. And the longer you stare… the closer it seems to get.
    I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
    nothing, expressive art, hard stroke painting style
    a disembodied hand holding a melting ice cream cone, hand holding icecream floating in space, and ocean inside the ice cream cone, icecream cone with an ocean instead of ice cream, view from afar, massive celestial icecream cone,An ice cream cone held by a disembodied hand, with the ice cream scoop transformed into a miniature ocean. The ocean is teeming with tiny boats, some sailing and others bobbing on the waves. The hand is slightly veiny and pale, adding an unsettling contrast to the vibrant blue of the ocean. The scene is set against a space like background, with nothing but distant stars visible from afar, view from afar, NOT POV, 3rd person view
    a disembodied hand holding a melting ice cream cone, hand holding icecream floating in space, and ocean inside the ice cream cone, icecream cone with an ocean instead of ice cream, view from afar, massive celestial icecream cone,An ice cream cone held by a disembodied hand, with the ice cream scoop transformed into a miniature ocean. The ocean is teeming with tiny boats, some sailing and others bobbing on the waves. The hand is slightly veiny and pale, adding an unsettling contrast to the vibrant blue of the ocean. The scene is set against a space like background, with nothing but distant stars visible from afar, view from afar
    Oh, dear, another dogged contender. Welcome, Unkindled One, purloiner of Cinders. Mind you, the mantle of Lord interests me none. The fire linking curse, the legacy of lords, let it all fade into nothing. You’ve done quite enough, now have your rest.
    A masterpiece tilt-shift scene, photogenic soft lighting, an extremely detailed diorama photograph with vivid natural colors, showing a bunch of T-rexes dinosaurs building a metal ship at a shipyard Each T-rex is wearing a yellow construction helmet, and they are using their stubby little dinosaur arms to operate the heavy machinery required to build the ship, the ship is still in the early stages of construction consisting of nothing but a structure made from curved metal beams that form the skeleton of the ship, bokeh, depth of field. 4K digital photo quality, bokeh, vivid rich colors, depth of field, extremely detailed background, maximalist, life-like masterpiece realistic photo, hyper-realism, photogenic soft atmosphere, dynamic scene, absurdres, 8k photography, three point perspective, Ultra-realistic, extreme amount of details thay mimic richness of real life

      FLUX

    • Schnell - flux_schnell.sft