null a lone wanderer

A photo of a (colossal swamp beast:1.0) caring a large crude axe, towering over a (lone wanderer:1.1), vibrant green moss on scales, (glowing eyes:1.2), misty marshland, (jagged mountain backdrop:1.1), ethereal light shafts, serene water stream, (ancient trees:1.1), tranquil yet foreboding, Sony A1, 1/800s, f/5.6, ISO 320, epic scale, high dynamic range, immersive environment, RAW photography, professional grade,

a painting, by Allen Anderson, full shot, bright colors, well lit;
1boy, male focus, solo, grizzled gunslinger, wearing a duster coat, revolver holstered at his hip, rugged appearance, steely gaze, quick draw, sharpshooter, lone wanderer, symbol of the frontier, ready for a showdown
action, PulpCover, pulp style, olfn

a painting, by Allen Anderson, full shot, bright colors, well lit;
1boy, male focus, solo, grizzled gunslinger, wearing a duster coat, revolver holstered at his hip, rugged appearance, steely gaze, quick draw, sharpshooter, lone wanderer, symbol of the frontier, ready for a showdown
action, PulpCover, pulp style, olfn

Best quality, masterpiece, 32k, UHD, high detailed,
A lone rider on horseback wanders along a village road through a settlement. The rider is wearing a traveling cloak, his face is hidden by a hood, a bag and a large braid are tied to the side of the saddle. The rider sits in the saddle slightly hunched over and with his head bowed. The deserted street is shrouded in fog. Early morning. Style by Ghibli, mysterios
cinematic, illustration, epic,

cinna flow,
In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone samurai stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. His silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the haze, a living ink painting torn from the pages of a storybook. The air hums with the faint echo of a Cheshire Cat’s grin, and the horizon shimmers like the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once.
His katanas, three in number, rest at his side, their blades catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies from a land of Oz. His topknot, loosely bound, unravels in the wind, strands of hair twisting like the riddles of the Mad Hatter. Above, a flock of crows—part bird, part shadow—ascends into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe.
The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold brushstrokes carve his form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The samurai’s stillness is a storm contained, his eyes reflecting the duality of a warrior-poet, lost in thought yet poised to strike.
Here, in this liminal space where Alice’s wonder meets Dorothy’s journey, the samurai embodies the spirit of bushidō—a guardian of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The ink bleeds, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

cinna flow,
In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone samurai stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. His silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the monochrome haze, a living ink painting torn from the pages of a storybook. The air hums with the faint echo of a Cheshire Cat’s grin, and the horizon shimmers like the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once.
His katanas, three in number, rest at his side, their blades catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies from a land of Oz. His topknot, loosely bound, unravels in the wind, strands of hair twisting like the riddles of the Mad Hatter. Above, a flock of crows—part bird, part shadow—ascends into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe.
The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold brushstrokes carve his form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The samurai’s stillness is a storm contained, his eyes reflecting the duality of a warrior-poet, lost in thought yet poised to strike.
Here, in this liminal space where Alice’s wonder meets Dorothy’s journey, the samurai embodies the spirit of bushidō—a guardian of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The ink bleeds, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

cinna flow,
In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone samurai stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. His silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the monochrome haze, a living ink painting torn from the pages of a storybook. The air hums with the faint echo of a Cheshire Cat’s grin, and the horizon shimmers like the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once.
His katanas, three in number, rest at his side, their blades catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies from a land of Oz. His topknot, loosely bound, unravels in the wind, strands of hair twisting like the riddles of the Mad Hatter. Above, a flock of crows—part bird, part shadow—ascends into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe.
The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold brushstrokes carve his form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The samurai’s stillness is a storm contained, his eyes reflecting the duality of a warrior-poet, lost in thought yet poised to strike.
Here, in this liminal space where Alice’s wonder meets Dorothy’s journey, the samurai embodies the spirit of bushidō—a guardian of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The ink bleeds, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

cinna flow,
In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone samurai stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. His silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the monochrome haze, a living ink painting torn from the pages of a storybook. The air hums with the faint echo of a Cheshire Cat’s grin, and the horizon shimmers like the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once.
His katanas, three in number, rest at his side, their blades catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies from a land of Oz. His topknot, loosely bound, unravels in the wind, strands of hair twisting like the riddles of the Mad Hatter. Above, a flock of crows—part bird, part shadow—ascends into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe.
The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold brushstrokes carve his form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The samurai’s stillness is a storm contained, his eyes reflecting the duality of a warrior-poet, lost in thought yet poised to strike.
Here, in this liminal space where Alice’s wonder meets Dorothy’s journey, the samurai embodies the spirit of bushidō—a guardian of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The ink bleeds, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

A photo of a (colossal swamp beast:1.0) caring a large crude axe, towering over a (lone wanderer:1.1), vibrant green moss on scales, (glowing eyes:1.2), misty marshland, (jagged mountain backdrop:1.1), ethereal light shafts, serene water stream, (ancient trees:1.1), tranquil yet foreboding, Sony A1, 1/800s, f/5.6, ISO 320, epic scale, high dynamic range, immersive environment, RAW photography, professional grade,

cinna flow,
In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone samurai stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. His silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the monochrome haze, a living ink painting torn from the pages of a storybook. The air hums with the faint echo of a Cheshire Cat’s grin, and the horizon shimmers like the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once.
His katanas, three in number, rest at his side, their blades catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies from a land of Oz. His topknot, loosely bound, unravels in the wind, strands of hair twisting like the riddles of the Mad Hatter. Above, a flock of crows—part bird, part shadow—ascends into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe.
The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold brushstrokes carve his form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The samurai’s stillness is a storm contained, his eyes reflecting the duality of a warrior-poet, lost in thought yet poised to strike.
Here, in this liminal space where Alice’s wonder meets Dorothy’s journey, the samurai embodies the spirit of bushidō—a guardian of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The ink bleeds, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

Best quality, masterpiece, 32k, UHD, high detailed,
A lone rider on horseback wanders along a village road through a settlement. The rider is wearing a traveling cloak, his face is hidden by a hood, a bag and a large braid are tied to the side of the saddle. The rider sits in the saddle slightly hunched over and with his head bowed. The deserted street is shrouded in fog. Early morning. Style by Ghibli, mysterios
cinematic, illustration, epic,

In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone knight clad in shimmering, mismatched armor stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. Their silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the haze, a living painting torn from the pages of a storybook. Cheshire Cat’s grin glowing in The air , and the horizon shimmers with the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once. Their weapon, a staff crowned with a glowing crystal, rests at their side, its light catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies. Their helmet, adorned with a crooked plume, tilts slightly in the wind, its feathers unraveling like riddles. Above, a swarm of flying monkeys—part mischief, part menace—soars into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe. The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold strokes carve their form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The knight’s stillness is a storm contained, their gaze reflecting the duality of a guardian-dreamer, lost in thought yet poised to act. Here, in this liminal space where the knight embodies the spirit of adventure—a protector of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The colors bleed, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

Generate art image [masterpiece] that depicts a [fantasy] scene, in [Luis Royo] [80's] [comics style]. The theme should be [unworldly] and [nsfw], with [detailed linework], [dynamic shading] and [backlight] and [raw colors] in [soft light]. The image should feature a lone, [extremely beautiful] young woman [innocent looking] girl with a [cursed beauty] who is (alchemist), with [alluring gaze]. She has [petite body] showing her [ample perky breasts] cleavage. While [wandering] in [dusty] [dark and creepy:1.2], [ancient:1.2] [alchemist laboratory] of [grand proportions]
The air is thick with the heady scent of rare herbs, alchemical elixirs, and arcane incense, making each breath feel like a journey into a different realm. A thick layer of cobwebs clings to forgotten corners, and the room's floor is strewn with mandrake roots, herbs, and crystals. The woman's face is [flushed] [blushed] and should be with [detailed contours] and [heart-shaped], with [delicately proportioned features], [high cheekbones], and a [nose with a slight upturn at the tip]. Her [full pouty lips] should be slightly parted. Her [detailed dark eyes] should have [dark heavy makeup] [black eyeliner] and [black smudged eyeshadow]. Her skin is [glossy] and her [white hair] are [short:1.2] Focus on [dark] and [eldritch] atmosphere with [high Level of Detail]. <lora:add_detail:0.5> <lora:methurlant:0.5> <lora:bichu-v0612:0.5> <lora:Gloomifier_slider_LECO_500w:0.7> <lora:hairdetailer:0.7>

a lone wanderer in the future, seen from behind, futuristic cowboy, cowboy hat, wearing futuristic weapons, walking down a desert road, a (horse mech4nim4lai) walking next to him, futuristic desert background, futuristic buildings, detailed background, alien sky, detailed sky, ultra realistic, highly detailed, 4k, 8k uhd, volumetric lights, 23mm, wide angle, trending on artstation, award winning photography, <lora:add_detail:0.9> <lora:epi_noiseoffset2:0.4> <lora:wowifierV3:0.8> <lora:Mech4nim4lAI:0.3>

([by Martin Ansin|by James McIntosh Patrick]:1.5), (As the barren wasteland stretches out before them, a lone figure wanders through the desolate landscape, their spirit resilient despite the harshness of their surroundings. Their eyes are closed, and their breath is filled with a labyrinth of questions and doubts as they contemplate their purpose. The bleakness of the moment is broken only by the faint glow of a flickering determination that refuses to be extinguished. The soul, a beacon of hope, lingers in the darkness, beckoning them forward.:0.5) (Adventure illustration:1.3) <lora:xl_more_art-full_v1:0.5> <lora:add-detail-xl:0.7> <lora:MJ52:0.4>

blame, <lora:blame:1> a man wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, 1boy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

blame, <lora:blame:1> a man wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, 1boy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

blame, <lora:blame:1> a man wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, 1boy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

([by Abraham Ortelius|by Josh Adamski]:1.5), (As the barren wasteland stretches out before them, a lone figure wanders through the desolate landscape, their spirit resilient despite the harshness of their surroundings. Their eyes are closed, and their breath is filled with a labyrinth of questions and doubts as they contemplate their purpose. The bleakness of the moment is broken only by the faint glow of a flickering determination that refuses to be extinguished. The soul, a beacon of hope, lingers in the darkness, beckoning them forward.:0.5) (Mythic space:1.3) <lora:xl_more_art-full_v1:0.5> <lora:add-detail-xl:0.7> <lora:MJ52:0.4>

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;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by Horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!

In the vast expanse of the galaxy, where stars and cosmic wonders dominate the backdrop, the opening scene of the space opera book unfolds with a sense of awe and mystery.
The narrative begins on the outermost rim of a distant planet, where an ancient and crumbling stone structure emerges from the desolate landscape. The structure, reminiscent of an otherworldly temple, stands as the only remnant of a once-great civilization. It is a testament to the enigmatic past, teeming with untold secrets.
A lone figure, dressed in tattered and weathered garments, approaches the temple with purpose. This individual, known as the Wanderer, possesses a weary but determined aura, hinting at their vast experiences in the cold depths of space. Their face remains hidden beneath a worn cloak, leaving their identity concealed.
As the Wanderer enters the temples ornate entrance, a sense of reverence fills the air. The atmosphere feels heavy with the weight of history, stirring with echoes of forgotten whispers and forgotten battles. The walls of the temple bear ancient and cryptic carvings, depicting celestial beings, celestial wars, and mythical creatures.
Guided by an invisible force, the Wanderer treads deeper into the heart of the temple. Rays of multicolored light filter through a massive glass dome at the zenith, casting an ethereal glow upon the stone floor. The hues shift and dance, transforming the surroundings into a mesmerizing tableau.
Within the inner sanctum, a colossal holographic projection suddenly materializes. It displays a map of the galaxy, dotted with numerous star systems, each representing a tale of adventure, conflict, and discovery. The Wanderers eyes shimmer with a combination of curiosity and resolve as they study the map, seeking a purpose, a mission.
In this opening scene, the reader is introduced to the vastness and grandeur of the space operas universe. The ancient temple, the enigmatic Wanderer, and the holographic galaxy map set the stage for a journey of epic proportions. It lays the foundation for the interstellar adventure that is about to unfold, promising exhilarating encounters, cosmic wars, and deep introspection amidst the stars.

Caspar David Friedrich, mist-shrouded ruins, lone wanderer, eerie moonlight

<lora:Fl0w3rGr0wnStyleSDXL:1.6>Fl0w3rGr0wnStyle Realistic digital painting of a mysterious underwater city at night, with glowing buildings, schools of fish, and bioluminescent plants, viewed through a dome ceiling; a lone nomadic wanderer in a hooded cloak stands in awe, gazing up at the starlit sky above through a hole in the dome ceiling, with a sense of wonder and discovery, soft blue and green hues, dramatic contrast between light and dark, intricate details, highly detailed, concept art, artstation, illustration, wide angle, artbook, wallpaper, splash art, promo art, dramatic lighting

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule --
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE -- out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters -- lone and dead, --
Their still waters -- still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead, --
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily, --
By the mountains -- near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever, --
By the grey woods, -- by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp, --
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls, --
By each spot the most unholy --
In each nook most melancholy, --
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past --
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by --
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth -- and Heaven.
For the heart whose woes are legion
'Tis a peaceful, soothing region --
For the spirit that walks in shadow
'Tis -- oh 'tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not -- dare not openly view it;
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.

The sun begins its descent, casting a golden glow upon the horizon, as if nature itself is preparing for a grand spectacle. Wispy clouds stretch across the sky, taking on hues of pink, orange, and violet, as if painted by a master artist. The air feels alive with anticipation, an electric energy pulsating through every breath. As the sun slips further below the horizon, darkness slowly envelopes the landscape. The stars, untouched by light pollution, emerge one by one, forming a glittering tapestry against the vast canvas of the night sky. They twinkle in harmony, like celestial beings whispering secrets in a language only the universe understands. In the distance, a majestic mountainscape rises, towering over the earth below. The peaks, kissed by snow, reflect the remaining light as if they are adorned with diamonds. The valleys, cloaked in a velvety darkness, are home to secrets yet to be discovered. A winding river meanders peacefully through the rugged terrain, illuminated by the ethereal glow of the moon. A cascade of water falls gracefully down a cliff, its silver strands dancing with joy, creating an enchanting melody that resonates through the air. The mist created by its descent shimmers like a mystical veil, lending an air of magic to the scene. Rainbows form as light passes through the droplets, forming vivid arcs that hover in the air, momentarily transcending the boundary between reality and dreams. A lone tree stands proudly amidst the expanse, its branches stretching skyward in a delicate dance of life and resilience. Its leaves sway gently with the soft breeze, rustling like a symphony of whispers. The tree's silhouette casts an intricate pattern on the ground, further accentuating its majestic presence. The scene is completed by a floral carpet, where blooms of vibrant colors burst forth in a riot of nature's artistry. Exotic blossoms release intoxicating scents that perfume the air, inviting any wanderer closer to revel in their splendor. Vibrant butterflies flit gracefully from one petal to another, creating a mesmerizing ballet of colors. This visually stunning scene, bathed in celestial light and earthly enchantment, evokes feelings of awe and wonder. It is a reminder of the extraordinary beauty that resides in the world, a testament to the boundless creativity of nature. It is a scene that lingers in the mind, an image that captures the heart, leaving an indelible imprint upon the soul.

The sun begins its descent, casting a golden glow upon the horizon, as if nature itself is preparing for a grand spectacle. Wispy clouds stretch across the sky, taking on hues of pink, orange, and violet, as if painted by a master artist. The air feels alive with anticipation, an electric energy pulsating through every breath. As the sun slips further below the horizon, darkness slowly envelopes the landscape. The stars, untouched by light pollution, emerge one by one, forming a glittering tapestry against the vast canvas of the night sky. They twinkle in harmony, like celestial beings whispering secrets in a language only the universe understands. In the distance, a majestic mountainscape rises, towering over the earth below. The peaks, kissed by snow, reflect the remaining light as if they are adorned with diamonds. The valleys, cloaked in a velvety darkness, are home to secrets yet to be discovered. A winding river meanders peacefully through the rugged terrain, illuminated by the ethereal glow of the moon. A cascade of water falls gracefully down a cliff, its silver strands dancing with joy, creating an enchanting melody that resonates through the air. The mist created by its descent shimmers like a mystical veil, lending an air of magic to the scene. Rainbows form as light passes through the droplets, forming vivid arcs that hover in the air, momentarily transcending the boundary between reality and dreams. A lone tree stands proudly amidst the expanse, its branches stretching skyward in a delicate dance of life and resilience. Its leaves sway gently with the soft breeze, rustling like a symphony of whispers. The tree's silhouette casts an intricate pattern on the ground, further accentuating its majestic presence. The scene is completed by a floral carpet, where blooms of vibrant colors burst forth in a riot of nature's artistry. Exotic blossoms release intoxicating scents that perfume the air, inviting any wanderer closer to revel in their splendor. Vibrant butterflies flit gracefully from one petal to another, creating a mesmerizing ballet of colors. This visually stunning scene, bathed in celestial light and earthly enchantment, evokes feelings of awe and wonder. It is a reminder of the extraordinary beauty that resides in the world, a testament to the boundless creativity of nature. It is a scene that lingers in the mind, an image that captures the heart, leaving an indelible imprint upon the soul.

cinna flow,
In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone samurai stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. His silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the haze, a living ink painting torn from the pages of a storybook. The air hums with the faint echo of a Cheshire Cat’s grin, and the horizon shimmers like the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once.
His katanas, three in number, rest at his side, their blades catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies from a land of Oz. His topknot, loosely bound, unravels in the wind, strands of hair twisting like the riddles of the Mad Hatter. Above, a flock of crows—part bird, part shadow—ascends into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe.
The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold brushstrokes carve his form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The samurai’s stillness is a storm contained, his eyes reflecting the duality of a warrior-poet, lost in thought yet poised to strike.
Here, in this liminal space where Alice’s wonder meets Dorothy’s journey, the samurai embodies the spirit of bushidō—a guardian of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The ink bleeds, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

blame, <lora:blame:1> wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling

A photo of a (colossal swamp beast:1.0) caring a large crude axe, towering over a (lone wanderer:1.1), vibrant green moss on scales, (glowing eyes:1.2), misty marshland, (jagged mountain backdrop:1.1), ethereal light shafts, serene water stream, (ancient trees:1.1), tranquil yet foreboding, Sony A1, 1/800s, f/5.6, ISO 320, epic scale, high dynamic range, immersive environment, RAW photography, professional grade,

realistic photography of a (lone wanderer in the future), 1man, futuristic cowboy, cowboy hat, wearing futuristic weapons, walking down a desert road, riding one (horse mech4nim4lai), futuristic desert background, futuristic buildings, detailed background, alien sky, detailed sky, ultra realistic, highly detailed, 4k, 8k uhd, volumetric lights, 18mm, wide angle, trending on artstation, award winning photography, by mooncryptowow, <lora:add_detail:0.9> <lora:epi_noiseoffset2:0.4> <lora:wowifierV3:0.9> <lora:Mech4nim4lAI:0.4>

([by Patricia Baldwin Seggebruch|by Patrick Nagel]:1.5), (As the barren wasteland stretches out before them, a lone figure wanders through the desolate landscape, their spirit resilient despite the harshness of their surroundings. Their eyes are closed, and their breath is filled with a labyrinth of questions and doubts as they contemplate their purpose. The bleakness of the moment is broken only by the faint glow of a flickering determination that refuses to be extinguished. The soul, a beacon of hope, lingers in the darkness, beckoning them forward.:0.5) (Cubist artwork:1.3) <lora:xl_more_art-full_v1:0.5> <lora:add-detail-xl:0.7> <lora:MJ52:0.4>

blame, <lora:blame:1> a man wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, 1boy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

blame, <lora:blame:1> a man wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, 1boy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

novuschroma54 style,score_9, score_8_up, score_7_up, highly detailed, aesthetically stunning, intricate, luminous, amazing aesthetic, intricate details, Digital artwork, surreal style, high-quality, ultra-detailed, 8K resolution, visual masterpiece,
In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone knight clad in shimmering, mismatched armor stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. Their silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the haze, a living painting torn from the pages of a storybook. Cheshire Cat’s grin glowing in The air , and the horizon shimmers with the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once. Their weapon, a staff crowned with a glowing crystal, rests at their side, its light catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies. Their helmet, adorned with a crooked plume, tilts slightly in the wind, its feathers unraveling like riddles. Above, a swarm of flying monkeys—part mischief, part menace—soars into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe. The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold strokes carve their form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The knight’s stillness is a storm contained, their gaze reflecting the duality of a guardian-dreamer, lost in thought yet poised to act. Here, in this liminal space where the knight embodies the spirit of adventure—a protector of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The colors bleed, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

blame, <lora:blame:1> a man wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, 1boy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

blame, <lora:blame:1> a man wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, 1boy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

Solitude, (isolated figure:1.3), (empty spaces), (desolate landscape:1.2), (echoing silence), (lonely journey:1.1), (haunting emptiness), (forgotten memories:1.2), (isolated existence), (fading footprints:1.1), (distant echoes), (vast emptiness:1.2), (solitary soul), (lost in thought:1.1), (void of connection), (abandoned dreams:1.3), (deserted realm), (echoes of the past:1.2), (isolated heart), (yearning for company:1.1), (silent contemplation), (isolated from the world:1.2), (shadowed solitude), (melancholic presence:1.1), (unseen tears), (solitary wanderer), (longing for companionship:1.2), (empty embrace), (secluded sanctuary:1.1), (wandering in seclusion), (aching isolation), (isolated thoughts:1.2), (echoes of solitude), (reclusive spirit), (remote wilderness:1.3), (vacant stare), (loneliness within), (whispers of isolation:1.2), (solitary reflection), (yearning for connection:1.1), (quiet seclusion), (isolated sanctuary:1.2), (fleeting interactions), (deserted sanctuary:1.1).

Generate art image [masterpiece] that depicts a [fantasy] scene, in [Luis Royo] [80's] [comics style]. The theme should be [unworldly] and [nsfw], with [detailed linework], [dynamic shading] and [backlight] and [raw colors] in [soft light]. The image should feature a lone, [extremely beautiful] young woman [innocent looking] girl with a [cursed beauty] who is (alchemist), with [alluring gaze]. She has [petite body] showing her [ample perky breasts] cleavage. While [wandering] in [dusty] [dark and creepy:1.2], [ancient:1.2] [alchemist laboratory] of [grand proportions]
The air is thick with the heady scent of rare herbs, alchemical elixirs, and arcane incense, making each breath feel like a journey into a different realm. A thick layer of cobwebs clings to forgotten corners, and the room's floor is strewn with mandrake roots, herbs, and crystals. The woman's face is [flushed] [blushed] and should be with [detailed contours] and [heart-shaped], with [delicately proportioned features], [high cheekbones], and a [nose with a slight upturn at the tip]. Her [full pouty lips] should be slightly parted. Her [detailed dark eyes] should have [dark heavy makeup] [black eyeliner] and [black smudged eyeshadow]. Her skin is [glossy] and her [white hair] are [short:1.2] Focus on [dark] and [eldritch] atmosphere with [high Level of Detail]. <lora:add_detail:0.5> <lora:methurlant:0.5> <lora:bichu-v0612:0.5> <lora:Gloomifier_slider_LECO_500w:0.7> <lora:hairdetailer:0.7>

blame, <lora:blame:1> a man wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, 1boy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

blame, <lora:blame:1> a man wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, 1boy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

A sprawling neon-lit metropolis rises beneath a sky streaked with auroras and hovering starships, its skyline a fusion of ancient temples and towering digital obelisks. At the heart of the city, a colossal cybernetic shrine pulsates with golden circuitry, its design an intricate blend of traditional Buddhist stupas and hyper-advanced alien architecture. Cascading waterfalls of liquid light spill from its terraces, illuminating the streets below where cloaked wanderers and cyber-monk guardians walk among holographic cherry blossoms. Above, sky bridges connect levitating districts, their glowing runes shifting in an unknown language. A lone figure, adorned in sleek, samurai-inspired armor with a mask flickering between human and machine, stands atop a crystalline platform, overlooking the vast dreamscape. The entire scene hums with an ethereal energy, as if the city itself is a living, sentient entity caught between the past and a distant, unfathomable future

The sun sets and night rises; the time comes when the world is dominated by darkness. Putting on the robe of darkness, I stepped into the night, as if I were one with heaven and earth.
Close your eyes; enjoy the cold earth beneath your feet, sending chills through your bones. Wander alone; on a lonely journey, companions are just superfluous things.
A warlock needs no one but a loyal servant as his best companion. Servants come from mana, mana comes from life, and life comes from the enemy's life.
As long as the warlock does not die, the servant can be reborn no matter how many times it dies. Come, servant! Coming here with a covenant of blood; I call you.
Who tortures the enemy's body, erodes his will, and devours his soul? See! The enemy's face is distorted in pain, and the allies' expressions of fear and panic.
There is no music more beautiful than the death wail of the enemy. No applause or encouragement is needed; the fragments of my soul are proof of my glory.
Night falls and the sun rises; the hood is pulled down over my eyes. Get the hearthstone and go back to the hotel; I drag my tired body into the basement.
No one remembers my name, where I went, or what I did. The corners of my mouth lifted slightly, and I fell into a deep sleep. Warlock is my only name.
FHD, Rich in details, masterpiece.

The sun sets and night rises; the time comes when the world is dominated by darkness. Putting on the robe of darkness, I stepped into the night, as if I were one with heaven and earth.
Close your eyes; enjoy the cold earth beneath your feet, sending chills through your bones. Wander alone; on a lonely journey, companions are just superfluous things.
A warlock needs no one but a loyal servant as his best companion. Servants come from mana, mana comes from life, and life comes from the enemy's life.
As long as the warlock does not die, the servant can be reborn no matter how many times it dies. Come, servant! Coming here with a covenant of blood; I call you.
Who tortures the enemy's body, erodes his will, and devours his soul? See! The enemy's face is distorted in pain, and the allies' expressions of fear and panic.
There is no music more beautiful than the death wail of the enemy. No applause or encouragement is needed; the fragments of my soul are proof of my glory.
Night falls and the sun rises; the hood is pulled down over my eyes. Get the hearthstone and go back to the hotel; I drag my tired body into the basement.
No one remembers my name, where I went, or what I did. The corners of my mouth lifted slightly, and I fell into a deep sleep. Warlock is my only name.
FHD, Rich in details, masterpiece.

The sun sets and night rises; the time comes when the world is dominated by darkness. Putting on the robe of darkness, I stepped into the night, as if I were one with heaven and earth.
Close your eyes; enjoy the cold earth beneath your feet, sending chills through your bones. Wander alone; on a lonely journey, companions are just superfluous things.
A warlock needs no one but a loyal servant as his best companion. Servants come from mana, mana comes from life, and life comes from the enemy's life.
As long as the warlock does not die, the servant can be reborn no matter how many times it dies. Come, servant! Coming here with a covenant of blood; I call you.
Who tortures the enemy's body, erodes his will, and devours his soul? See! The enemy's face is distorted in pain, and the allies' expressions of fear and panic.
There is no music more beautiful than the death wail of the enemy. No applause or encouragement is needed; the fragments of my soul are proof of my glory.
Night falls and the sun rises; the hood is pulled down over my eyes. Get the hearthstone and go back to the hotel; I drag my tired body into the basement.
No one remembers my name, where I went, or what I did. The corners of my mouth lifted slightly, and I fell into a deep sleep. Warlock is my only name.
FHD, Rich in details, masterpiece.

blame, <lora:blame:1> a man wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, 1boy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

blame, <lora:blame:1> wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

blame, <lora:blame:1> wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

Skyrim-style scene, Tranquil small town nestled amidst pine trees, Cozy stable and bustling tavern lining the street, Lone dog wandering the cobblestone road, Majestic pine tree towering over the quaint buildings, Distant mountain looming in the background, (Eerie moon with( evil eyes:1.1) peering down upon the village:1.4), Atmosphere tinged with mystery and foreboding, Executed with immersive detail reminiscent of the iconic game, Rich color palette capturing the essence of fantasy, Intriguing and atmospheric.

A sprawling neon-lit metropolis rises beneath a sky streaked with auroras and hovering starships, its skyline a fusion of ancient temples and towering digital obelisks. At the heart of the city, a colossal cybernetic shrine pulsates with golden circuitry, its design an intricate blend of traditional Buddhist stupas and hyper-advanced alien architecture. Cascading waterfalls of liquid light spill from its terraces, illuminating the streets below where cloaked wanderers and cyber-monk guardians walk among holographic cherry blossoms. Above, sky bridges connect levitating districts, their glowing runes shifting in an unknown language. A lone figure, adorned in sleek, samurai-inspired armor with a mask flickering between human and machine, stands atop a crystalline platform, overlooking the vast dreamscape. The entire scene hums with an ethereal energy, as if the city itself is a living, sentient entity caught between the past and a distant, unfathomable future. Futurism, paper-cut, fairy tale, delicate scene, rime, crystal flower, zzspczz

blame, <lora:blame:1> wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

blame, <lora:blame:1> wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

blame, <lora:blame:1> wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

blame, <lora:blame:1> wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant, scarlet nexus

blame, <lora:blame:1> wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

blame, <lora:blame:1> wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant, scarlet nexus

blame, <lora:blame:1> wandering in a giant lost cyber city alone, dark, cool, far view, FOV,wide angle,killy, monochrome, greyscale, black and white, lonely, sad feeling,giant

cinna flow,
In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone samurai stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. His silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the haze, a living ink painting torn from the pages of a storybook. The air hums with the faint echo of a Cheshire Cat’s grin, and the horizon shimmers like the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once.
His katanas, three in number, rest at his side, their blades catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies from a land of Oz. His topknot, loosely bound, unravels in the wind, strands of hair twisting like the riddles of the Mad Hatter. Above, a flock of crows—part bird, part shadow—ascends into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe.
The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold brushstrokes carve his form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The samurai’s stillness is a storm contained, his eyes reflecting the duality of a warrior-poet, lost in thought yet poised to strike.
Here, in this liminal space where Alice’s wonder meets Dorothy’s journey, the samurai embodies the spirit of bushidō—a guardian of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The ink bleeds, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

cinna flow,
In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone samurai stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. His silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the monochrome haze, a living ink painting torn from the pages of a storybook. The air hums with the faint echo of a Cheshire Cat’s grin, and the horizon shimmers like the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once.
His katanas, three in number, rest at his side, their blades catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies from a land of Oz. His topknot, loosely bound, unravels in the wind, strands of hair twisting like the riddles of the Mad Hatter. Above, a flock of crows—part bird, part shadow—ascends into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe.
The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold brushstrokes carve his form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The samurai’s stillness is a storm contained, his eyes reflecting the duality of a warrior-poet, lost in thought yet poised to strike.
Here, in this liminal space where Alice’s wonder meets Dorothy’s journey, the samurai embodies the spirit of bushidō—a guardian of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The ink bleeds, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

cinna flow,
In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone samurai stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. His silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the haze, a living ink painting torn from the pages of a storybook. The air hums with the faint echo of a Cheshire Cat’s grin, and the horizon shimmers like the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once.
His katanas, three in number, rest at his side, their blades catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies from a land of Oz. His topknot, loosely bound, unravels in the wind, strands of hair twisting like the riddles of the Mad Hatter. Above, a flock of crows—part bird, part shadow—ascends into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe.
The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold brushstrokes carve his form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The samurai’s stillness is a storm contained, his eyes reflecting the duality of a warrior-poet, lost in thought yet poised to strike.
Here, in this liminal space where Alice’s wonder meets Dorothy’s journey, the samurai embodies the spirit of bushidō—a guardian of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The ink bleeds, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone knight clad in shimmering, mismatched armor stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. Their silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the haze, a living painting torn from the pages of a storybook. Cheshire Cat’s grin glowing in The air , and the horizon shimmers with the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once. Their weapon, a staff crowned with a glowing crystal, rests at their side, its light catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies. Their helmet, adorned with a crooked plume, tilts slightly in the wind, its feathers unraveling like riddles. Above, a swarm of flying monkeys—part mischief, part menace—soars into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe. The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold strokes carve their form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The knight’s stillness is a storm contained, their gaze reflecting the duality of a guardian-dreamer, lost in thought yet poised to act. Here, in this liminal space where the knight embodies the spirit of adventure—a protector of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The colors bleed, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone knight clad in shimmering, mismatched armor stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. Their silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the haze, a living painting torn from the pages of a storybook. Cheshire Cat’s grin glowing in The air , and the horizon shimmers with the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once. Their weapon, a staff crowned with a glowing crystal, rests at their side, its light catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies. Their helmet, adorned with a crooked plume, tilts slightly in the wind, its feathers unraveling like riddles. Above, a swarm of flying monkeys—part mischief, part menace—soars into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe. The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold strokes carve their form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The knight’s stillness is a storm contained, their gaze reflecting the duality of a guardian-dreamer, lost in thought yet poised to act. Here, in this liminal space where the knight embodies the spirit of adventure—a protector of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The colors bleed, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

In a surreal expanse where the whispering grass grows taller than time itself, a lone knight clad in shimmering, mismatched armor stands like a relic of a dream half-remembered. Their silhouette, sharp as a blade, cuts through the haze, a living painting torn from the pages of a storybook. Cheshire Cat’s grin glowing in The air , and the horizon shimmers with the Yellow Brick Road, leading nowhere and everywhere at once. Their weapon, a staff crowned with a glowing crystal, rests at their side, its light catching the glow of embers that drift like fireflies. Their helmet, adorned with a crooked plume, tilts slightly in the wind, its feathers unraveling like riddles. Above, a swarm of flying monkeys—part mischief, part menace—soars into a sky where clouds swirl like the smoke of a wizard’s pipe. The scene is a dance of contrasts: bold strokes carve their form, while delicate shading whispers of a world caught between serenity and chaos. The embers pulse, casting faint light on the uneven terrain, where shadows stretch like the arms of the Queen of Hearts’ card soldiers. The knight’s stillness is a storm contained, their gaze reflecting the duality of a guardian-dreamer, lost in thought yet poised to act. Here, in this liminal space where the knight embodies the spirit of adventure—a protector of forgotten realms, a wanderer between worlds. The colors bleed, the wind sings, and the moment hangs, suspended between the tick of a pocket watch and the roar of a tornado.

DreamShaper XL

v2.1 Turbo DPM++ SDE - dreamshaperXL_v21TurboDPMSDE.safetensors
Lightning DPM++ SDE - dreamshaperXL_lightningDPMSDE.safetensors
SFW v2 Turbo DPM++ SDE - dreamshaperXL_sfwV2TurboDPMSDE.safetensors
SFW Lightning DPM++ SDE - dreamshaperXL_sfwLightningDPMSDE.safetensors
v2 Turbo DPM++ SDE - dreamshaperXL_v2TurboDPMSDE.safetensors
Turbo DPM++ SDE - dreamshaperXL_turboDPMSDE.safetensors
SFW Turbo DPM++ SDE - dreamshaperXL_sfwTurboDPMSDE.safetensors
alpha2 (xl1.0) - dreamshaperXL_alpha2Xl10.safetensors
alpha1 (xl0.9) - dreamshaperXL_alpha1Xl09.safetensors

DreamShaper

8 - dreamshaper_8.safetensors
8 LCM - dreamshaper_8LCM.safetensors
8-inpainting - dreamshaper_8Inpainting.safetensors
8-diffusers - dreamshaper_8Diffusers.zip
7 - dreamshaper_7.safetensors
7-inpainting - dreamshaper_7-inpainting.safetensors
7-diffusers - dreamshaper_7Diffusers_trainingData.zip
6.31 baked vae - dreamshaper_631BakedVae.safetensors
6.31-inpainting - dreamshaper_631Inpainting.safetensors
6.31 diffusers - dreamshaper_631Diffusers_trainingData.zip
6 baked vae - dreamshaper_6BakedVae.safetensors
6.2 baked vae - dreamshaper_62BakedVae.safetensors
6-inpainting - dreamshaper_6Inpainting.safetensors
6 no vae - dreamshaper_6NoVae.safetensors
6 diffusers - dreamshaper_6Diffusers_trainingData.zip
5 baked vae - dreamshaper_5BakedVae.ckpt
5 pruned (no vae) - train - dreamshaper_5PrunedNoVaeTrain.ckpt
5-inpainting - dreamshaper_5-inpainting.safetensors
5 baked vae diffusers - dreamshaper_5BakedVaeDiffusers_trainingData.zip
4 baked vae - dreamshaper_4BakedVae.safetensors
4-inpainting - dreamshaper_4-inpainting.safetensors
4 baked vae fp16 - dreamshaper_4BakedVaeFp16.safetensors
4 no vae - dreamshaper_4NoVae.safetensors
4 no vae fp16 - dreamshaper_4NoVaeFp16.ckpt
3.32 baked vae (clip fix) - dreamshaper_332BakedVaeClipFix.ckpt
3.31 baked vae - dreamshaper_331BakedVae.ckpt
3.31-inpainting - dreamshaper_331-inpainting.safetensors
3.3 - dreamshaper_33.ckpt
2.52 (safetensors fixed) - dreamshaper_252SafetensorsFixed.ckpt
2.52 (pruned) - dreamshaper_252Pruned.ckpt
2.52 (initial release) - dreamshaper_252InitialRelease.ckpt