Arafed city street with a lot of debris and a cloud

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The crimson sunrise oozed through the tattered curtains, casting the rubble-strewn room in a hellish glow. She slowly opened her eyes, the heaviness of despair crushing what little spirit she had left. Today marked one year since the bombs fell, obliterating her dreams of being a writer. But the charred remains of her manuscript amidst the destruction were just a haunting reminder of the old world now lost forever. With a defeated sigh, she crawled from the makeshift bed of moldy blankets and turned away from the malignant light seeping in. A few more minutes of restless oblivion before facing another day of scraping out a meager existence in this post-apocalyptic wasteland. As she drifted off again, her mind swirled with regrets - she should have cherished each moment before the end came, should have told her loved ones how much they meant. The distant rumble of collapsing buildings echoed through the silent city, their ominous groans reminding her of church organs back home. As a girl, the sweeping notes resonated with hope inside the soaring sanctuaries. Now, she felt utterly abandoned by God. But the lingering requiem seemed to mock her unanswered prayers for deliverance. She scavenged the rubble for scraps and boiled radioactive rainwater in a battered pot. Foul steam rose from her chipped mug as she sat peering out between the splintered boards nailed over the blown-out window. The empty streets below were filled only with swirling ash, all life erased in the fires of judgement. For now, mere survival was her purpose. She had stopped dreaming, stopped striving, stopped judging herself for what she could have been. This was her existence now, scraped out amongst the wreckage - not out of failure, but out of the cruel twists of fate. God's wrath had washed over humanity like a tsunami, whispering that her time had run out when she least expected it. But for today, it was enough to simply endure.

J

Jlah Drofloh

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The crimson sunrise oozed through the tattered curtains , casting the rubble-strewn room in a hellish glow . She slowly opened her eyes , the heaviness of despair crushing what little spirit she had left . Today marked one year since the bombs fell , obliterating her dreams of being a writer . But the charred remains of her manuscript amidst the destruction were just a haunting reminder of the old world now lost forever . With a defeated sigh , she crawled from the makeshift bed of moldy blankets and turned away from the malignant light seeping in . A few more minutes of restless oblivion before facing another day of scraping out a meager existence in this post-apocalyptic wasteland . As she drifted off again , her mind swirled with regrets - she should have cherished each moment before the end came , should have told her loved ones how much they meant . The distant rumble of collapsing buildings echoed through the silent city , their ominous groans reminding her of church organs back home . As a girl , the sweeping notes resonated with hope inside the soaring sanctuaries . Now , she felt utterly abandoned by God . But the lingering requiem seemed to mock her unanswered prayers for deliverance . She scavenged the rubble for scraps and boiled radioactive rainwater in a battered pot . Foul steam rose from her chipped mug as she sat peering out between the splintered boards nailed over the blown-out window . The empty streets below were filled only with swirling ash , all life erased in the fires of judgement . For now , mere survival was her purpose . She had stopped dreaming , stopped striving , stopped judging herself for what she could have been . This was her existence now , scraped out amongst the wreckage - not out of failure , but out of the cruel twists of fate . God's wrath had washed over humanity like a tsunami , whispering that her time had run out when she least expected it . But for today , it was enough to simply endure .

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The crimson sunrise oozed through the tattered curtains, casting the rubble-strewn room in a hellish glow. She slowly opened her eyes, the heaviness of despair crushing what little spirit she had left. Today marked one year since the bombs fell, obliterating her dreams of being a writer. But the charred remains of her manuscript amidst the destruction were just a haunting reminder of the old world now lost forever. With a defeated sigh, she crawled from the makeshift bed of moldy blankets and turned away from the malignant light seeping in. A few more minutes of restless oblivion before facing another day of scraping out a meager existence in this post-apocalyptic wasteland. As she drifted off again, her mind swirled with regrets - she should have cherished each moment before the end came, should have told her loved ones how much they meant. The distant rumble of collapsing buildings echoed through the silent city, their ominous groans reminding her of church organs back home. As a girl, the sweeping notes resonated with hope inside the soaring sanctuaries. Now, she felt utterly abandoned by God. But the lingering requiem seemed to mock her unanswered prayers for deliverance. She scavenged the rubble for scraps and boiled radioactive rainwater in a battered pot. Foul steam rose from her chipped mug as she sat peering out between the splintered boards nailed over the blown-out window. The empty streets below were filled only with swirling ash, all life erased in the fires of judgement. For now, mere survival was her purpose. She had stopped dreaming, stopped striving, stopped judging herself for what she could have been. This was her existence now, scraped out amongst the wreckage - not out of failure, but out of the cruel twists of fate. God's wrath had washed over humanity like a tsunami, whispering that her time had run out when she least expected it. But for today, it was enough to simply endure.

Etiqueta negativa

(nsfw:1.5),(monochrome:1.3), (oversaturated:1.3), bad hands, lowers, 3d render, cartoon, long body, ((blurry)), duplicate, ((duplicate body parts)), (disfigured), (poorly drawn), (extra limbs), fused fingers, extra fingers, (twisted), malformed hands, ((((mutated hands and fingers)))), contorted, conjoined, ((missing limbs)), logo, signature, text, words, low res, boring, mutated, artifacts, bad art, gross, ugly, poor quality, low quality, missing asshole

Escala CFG

7

Pasos

20

Recolector

DPM++ 2M Karras

Semilla

2494656011

Clip Skip

1

Tamaño de imagen

1024 X 1024

Modelo

Deliberate

Generar

Tamaño

4096X4096

Fecha

Nov 5, 2023

Modo

Por defecto

Tipo

upscale

Checkpoint & LoRA

Checkpoint

Deliberate

LORA

Add More Details - Detail Enhancer / Tweaker (细节调整) LoRA

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