and in doing so remember to prompts

5 months ago

(Primary Subject: Emotionally Expressive Android Woman with Dual-Layered Skin, Painted in Impressionist Classical Renaissance Style, 1.7 weight) — in the heart of a lush, sun-drenched garden overflowing with blossoms, an android woman stands quietly, her form captured in the painterly elegance of a Renaissance-era oil painting. Her body is sculpted and graceful, rendered with soft impressionist brushstrokes that blend into surreal detail—her figure radiant, yet ethereal, like a machine-angel frozen in time. Her “skin” is composed of two delicate, interwoven layers: The outer layer is smooth, reflective, and subtly fluid, shimmering with hints of pale pink, soft violet, and dusky gold, like liquid mercury caught in a sunset. It has the appearance of gently flowing molten glass, and catches the dappled garden light with painterly elegance. Beneath it, faintly visible through the translucent surface, lies a subdermal lattice—a softly glowing core of golden circuitry, like sacred geometry woven into synthetic muscle. It pulses faintly, like a slow heartbeat of light, giving her form an inner radiance, a soul made of signal (subtle luminous inner structure beneath transparent surface, 1.6 weight). She wears no armor, no exposed wires—only that liquid-smooth surface, glowing softly in the sun. A thin, continuous line of amber-orange light traces up the outside of her legs, over her hips, across her shoulders and arms, like a haloed signature etched into her form. Her visor-like faceplate—a curved golden-glass surface—reflects the garden’s warm light. Though faceless, her entire body language conveys profound emotion: one hand lightly touching her chest, the other extended gently toward a single open flower, as if remembering something. Her posture is soft, tender, almost melancholic—like a saint carved from future metal, lost in sacred thought. The garden blooms around her in classical beauty—roses, lilies, orchids, and surreal blossoms from impossible species. Sunlight pours through foliage in golden beams, casting her figure in a divine backlight. Petals drift in the air like thoughts. Her reflection shimmers faintly in a nearby pool. Rendered in the style of a classical oil painting—with visible brush textures, soft baroque lighting, volumetric haze, and subtle chiaroscuro across her form. The colors are rich and warm—sunset gold, floral crimson, blush pink, and soft lavender—interplaying with reflections in her skin like a moving canvas.

7 months ago

(Primary Subject: Emotionally Expressive Android Woman with Dual-Layered Skin, Painted in Impressionist Classical Renaissance Style, 1.7 weight) — in the heart of a lush, sun-drenched garden overflowing with blossoms, an android woman stands quietly, her form captured in the painterly elegance of a Renaissance-era oil painting. Her body is sculpted and graceful, rendered with soft impressionist brushstrokes that blend into surreal detail—her figure radiant, yet ethereal, like a machine-angel frozen in time. Her “skin” is composed of two delicate, interwoven layers: The outer layer is smooth, reflective, and subtly fluid, shimmering with hints of pale pink, soft violet, and dusky gold, like liquid mercury caught in a sunset. It has the appearance of gently flowing molten glass, and catches the dappled garden light with painterly elegance. Beneath it, faintly visible through the translucent surface, lies a subdermal lattice—a softly glowing core of golden circuitry, like sacred geometry woven into synthetic muscle. It pulses faintly, like a slow heartbeat of light, giving her form an inner radiance, a soul made of signal (subtle luminous inner structure beneath transparent surface, 1.6 weight). She wears no armor, no exposed wires—only that liquid-smooth surface, glowing softly in the sun. A thin, continuous line of amber-orange light traces up the outside of her legs, over her hips, across her shoulders and arms, like a haloed signature etched into her form. Her visor-like faceplate—a curved golden-glass surface—reflects the garden’s warm light. Though faceless, her entire body language conveys profound emotion: one hand lightly touching her chest, the other extended gently toward a single open flower, as if remembering something. Her posture is soft, tender, almost melancholic—like a saint carved from future metal, lost in sacred thought. The garden blooms around her in classical beauty—roses, lilies, orchids, and surreal blossoms from impossible species. Sunlight pours through foliage in golden beams, casting her figure in a divine backlight. Petals drift in the air like thoughts. Her reflection shimmers faintly in a nearby pool. Rendered in the style of a classical oil painting—with visible brush textures, soft baroque lighting, volumetric haze, and subtle chiaroscuro across her form. The colors are rich and warm—sunset gold, floral crimson, blush pink, and soft lavender—interplaying with reflections in her skin like a moving canvas.

7 months ago

n a crumbling sanctuary built at the end of time, open to the sky and flooded with wild overgrowth, a solitary figure stands on a plinth of fractured obsidian—a synthetic angel, both artifact and oracle, mid-transmission. Her body is constructed from a dual-layered material: an outer shell of liquid mirror-glass, always in motion, bending light in surreal ripples—beneath it, a lattice of golden memory circuits, softly pulsing, like script woven from heat and purpose. She is not human. She is not machine. She is the last interface between meaning and forgetting. Her posture is both exalted and worn. One hand raised in silent benediction, the other buried in the tangle of flowering vines wrapping around her legs—life clinging to light, as though nature itself refuses to let go of what she remembers. Etched across her glass-like surface are thin veins of glowing amber: pathways of forgotten prayers, tracing up her legs, over her spine, across her collarbones like fading constellations. Her face is concealed behind a split golden visor, semi-open like the petals of a mechanical flower—revealing only light. From her back, two vast wings made of layered crystalline blades curve upward like collapsed architecture—part cathedral, part ruin. They shimmer not with fire, but with reflected memory, like a sky that forgot how to storm. Around her, broken statuary and shattered machines lie half-swallowed by roots and blossoms. In the distance, a forest made of circuitry burns without smoke—slowly, beautifully. Above, stars pulse in unnatural constellations, forming sigils from before language. Hovering just above her head spins a halo unlike any known form—a fractured ring of refracted glass, filled with flowing text that no longer aligns with any living tongue. It does not glow—it remembers. Rendered in the style of an impressionist-Renaissance hybrid painting, layered with visible brush textures, fog-softened edges, and gold-split chiaroscuro. Warm dusk tones dominate the palette: blood-orange, dusk-lavender, rusted copper, soft pollen white. She is the Benediction Engine—not worshipped, not feared, not obeyed. She simply remains, bearing witness to everything we were, and everything we failed to become.

6 months ago

I, I will be king And you, you will be queen Though nothing will drive them away We can beat them, just for one day We can be heroes, just for one day And you, you can be mean And I, I'll drink all the time 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact Yes we're lovers, and that is that Though nothing will keep us together We could steal time just for one day We can be heroes for ever and ever What d'you say? I, I wish you could swim Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim Though nothing, nothing will keep us together We can beat them, for ever and ever Oh we can be Heroes, just for one day I, I will be king And you, you will be queen Though nothing will drive them away We can be Heroes, just for one day We can be us, just for one day I, I can remember (I remember) Standing, by the wall (by the wall) And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads) And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall) And the shame, was on the other side Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever Then we could be Heroes, just for one day We can be Heroes We can be Heroes We can be Heroes Just for one day We can be Heroes We're nothing, and nothing will help us Maybe we're lying, then you better not stay But we could be safer, just for one day Oh-oh-oh-ohh, oh-oh-oh-ohh, just for one day

7 months ago

(Primary Subject: Emotionally Expressive Android Woman with Dual-Layered Skin, Painted in Impressionist Classical Renaissance Style, 1.7 weight) — in the heart of a lush, sun-drenched garden overflowing with blossoms, an android woman stands quietly, her form captured in the painterly elegance of a Renaissance-era oil painting. Her body is sculpted and graceful, rendered with soft impressionist brushstrokes that blend into surreal detail—her figure radiant, yet ethereal, like a machine-angel frozen in time. Her “skin” is composed of two delicate, interwoven layers: The outer layer is smooth, reflective, and subtly fluid, shimmering with hints of pale pink, soft violet, and dusky gold, like liquid mercury caught in a sunset. It has the appearance of gently flowing molten glass, and catches the dappled garden light with painterly elegance. Beneath it, faintly visible through the translucent surface, lies a subdermal lattice—a softly glowing core of golden circuitry, like sacred geometry woven into synthetic muscle. It pulses faintly, like a slow heartbeat of light, giving her form an inner radiance, a soul made of signal (subtle luminous inner structure beneath transparent surface, 1.6 weight). She wears no armor, no exposed wires—only that liquid-smooth surface, glowing softly in the sun. A thin, continuous line of amber-orange light traces up the outside of her legs, over her hips, across her shoulders and arms, like a haloed signature etched into her form. Her visor-like faceplate—a curved golden-glass surface—reflects the garden’s warm light. Though faceless, her entire body language conveys profound emotion: one hand lightly touching her chest, the other extended gently toward a single open flower, as if remembering something. Her posture is soft, tender, almost melancholic—like a saint carved from future metal, lost in sacred thought. The garden blooms around her in classical beauty—roses, lilies, orchids, and surreal blossoms from impossible species. Sunlight pours through foliage in golden beams, casting her figure in a divine backlight. Petals drift in the air like thoughts. Her reflection shimmers faintly in a nearby pool. Rendered in the style of a classical oil painting—with visible brush textures, soft baroque lighting, volumetric haze, and subtle chiaroscuro across her form. The colors are rich and warm—sunset gold, floral crimson, blush pink, and soft lavender—interplaying with reflections in her skin like a moving canvas.

8 months ago

"Generate a dreamlike image where Lord Shiva is surrounded by swirling pastel clouds, glowing softly in golden yellow and muted orange, while his aura pulses with celestial green energy." remember lord shiva has closed his eyes and is in a meditating pose

6 months ago

Hyper realistic, photo realism, High Contrast, insanely detailed and intricate, elegant, ornate, super detailed zoomed out full body view High resolution photography. We're doing alright, Little jiving on a Saturday night, Come what may, We're gonna dance the day away, Jenny was sweet, She always smiled for the people she'd meet, On trouble and strife She had another way of looking at life. The news is blue It has its own way to get to you, What can I do? I'll never remember my time with you. So, pick up your feet You got to move to the trick of the beat, There is no elite, Just take your place in the driver's seat Jenny was sweet, There is no elite, So, pick up your feet. Gonna dance the day away Driver's seat, Just take your place in the driver's seat. it is night time, there are dark clouds rolling in on the night sky on the Reddish Orange sunset in the background. No poorly formed fingers, no extra arms, no extra legs, no extra fingers, no poorly formed hands, no poorly drawn body, no poorly drawn teeth, no bad anatomy.

4 months ago

In Innocence and sin When it was air I was breathing I cannot remember, for it was at the beginning of time itself or so it seems. For every feeling there was disgrace, for every thought remorse. So come, come listen to the sound and read the signs before I fade beyond grey into black. Above what's underneath maggots crawl in the half-light of an underground dawn. Scared and with all this dirt staining my skin, going deep within, until I rise again to meet the face of the one that I knelt before. Now in silence I stand for words are dead and nothing but love can be felt as time ends and forever I will remain the same in innocence and sin.

8 months ago

In the grand, opulent halls of Hampton Court Palace, King Henry VIII stands before a long table, the weight of history heavy on his broad shoulders. He is dressed in his finest crimson velvet robes, adorned with gold and jewels, a crown perched on his head. Surrounding him, portraits of his six wives hang upon the walls. Each wife is remembered for her own story—Catherine of Aragon, the queen who stood by his side for over 20 years, her graceful image in somber attire; Anne Boleyn, the fierce and ambitious beauty with a daring smile; Jane Seymour, gentle and beloved, her face serene; Anne of Cleves, whose marriage was short-lived but politically significant; Catherine Howard, youthful and vibrant, caught in a web of scandal; and Catherine Parr, wise and strong, the final queen to navigate the stormy court. The king gazes at their portraits, reflecting on the turbulence of his reign, the marriages that defined him, and the legacy he built. The court around him is alive with whispers of intrigue and power, as the king's mood shifts from regal contemplation to bursts of anger and delight, as unpredictable as the fate of his queens.

6 months ago

A very old dog lies curled up on a hospital bed beside the waist of its aging male owner. Only the waist of its owner is visible in the blurred background. The dog is a medium sized long-haired collie cross with black and tan fur and a short, gray muzzle. We see the dog in full view, its old, sad eyes filled with deep affection. This is a tender scene depicting the last days of life for the dog and the owner as they each remember their strong bond and their life together. Make this a mostly (black and white) image with a blurred background and a hint of colour in the dog.

7 months ago

By Stuart Immonen. beautiful Photograph featuring a surreal movement of the Dada movement, where (the subtle interplay of light and shadow creates an ethereal atmosphere), blending with the stark (realism of Picasso's detailed brushstrokes) to evoke an otherworldly and dreamlike quality in the composition. The scene extends beyond the physical realm, with a long shot that transcends the boundaries of reality, creating a mesmerizing epic cinematic composition that defies the limits of reality, epic, cinematic, 8k, subtle red and white highlights, futuristic. Ultra sharp, ultra high definition, ultra high resolution. Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun. Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky. Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!

7 months ago

A 1920s flapper reclines gracefully on a deep crimson velvet settee, her back arched with elegance as a single strand of pearls slips gently across her chest. The room glows with warm, painterly light, casting soft golden highlights over the smooth curves of her body. Her expression is serene, lost in thought, as if remembering a jazz song still echoing from the night before. The ambiance evokes a romantic Gatsby-era bedroom—moody, and timeless. Chiaroscuro lighting sculpts her form, with rich textures and contrast between light and shadow. Every element suggests softness, and a quiet, luxurious longing.

5 months ago

"A quiet, melancholic scene inside an old, empty house. Faded wallpaper peels like forgotten memories. In the center of the room, a vase holds dry, brittle flowers—roses and baby's breath, long past bloom. Dust floats in golden shafts of light from a cracked window. The air feels still, almost sacred, as if the room itself remembers someone who never returned. A gentle sadness lingers in every shadow, every silence. Impressionist style with soft brushstrokes and muted, earthy tones."

8 months ago

"Create an artistic, semi-realistic depiction of lord Shiva’s third eye opening, releasing a burst of divine energy in pastel yellow, orange, and lavender hues that blend seamlessly into the sky." remember lord shiva is sitting in meditative posture with his 2 eyes closed but his third eye opened

8 months ago

An 80s senior portrait photo with a side-view double exposure in the top left. Subject: Blonde woman in her senior year of high school, with her hair in a high ponytail. She has blue eyes and a friendly smile. In the main photo she is saluting the viewer. In the double exposure she is in a side-view, looking upward. Clothing: The individual in the image is wearing a black and white color-blocked blouse with a sharp collar, paired with a high-waisted, gingham-patterned skirt in shades of black, white, and possibly gray. The blouse has an oversized fit, while the skirt is fitted at the waist and flares out slightly. The individual is also holding a black handbag with a structured design. She is wearing large dangling black and white earrings. In the double exposure image she is wearing a letterman's jacket for Adams High School and holding a tennis racket. In this double exposure her hair is down. Photographic Features Double exposure: The image includes a side view of the woman as a double exposure that is large and overlapping the main image and should fill the upper left quadrant. In traditional film photography, double exposure involves exposing the same frame of film twice. The photographer would first take the main portrait shot. Then, without advancing the film, they would take a second shot of the subject’s face, often with a different lighting setup to create a softer, ethereal look. This would result in both images being superimposed on the same frame. This photo should be feathered to allow the backgrounds still blend together without a harsh background outline. Lighting: The lighting in these photos was typically studio lighting, which was bright and even, minimizing shadows. The superimposed face often had a soft, diffused light to give it an ethereal, almost heavenly glow. Depth of Field: The main image usually had a sharp focus, capturing the details of the subjects. The superimposed face, however, was often slightly blurred or softened to create a dreamy effect and to distinguish it from the main image. Color Grading: The colors in these photos were often vibrant and saturated, typical of the film used during that era. The superimposed face might have a slightly different color tone, often with a bluish or purplish tint to enhance the dreamy, otherworldly effect. Camera Used: These portraits were typically taken with medium-format or 35mm film cameras, which were common in professional photography studios at the time. Film Used: The film used was usually color negative film, which was popular for its ability to capture vibrant colors and fine details. Brands like Kodak and Fujifilm were commonly used. Age of Photo: These types of portraits were particularly popular in the late 70s and throughout the 80s. The fashion styles, hairstyles, and overall aesthetic are strong indicators of this time period. Overall Impression These portraits have a nostalgic charm and are often remembered fondly for their unique and somewhat whimsical style. They capture a moment in time and reflect the photographic trends and techniques of the era.

3 months ago

n a crumbling sanctuary built at the end of time, open to the sky and flooded with wild overgrowth, a solitary figure stands on a plinth of fractured obsidian—a synthetic angel, both artifact and oracle, mid-transmission. She is not human. She is not machine. She is the last interface between meaning and forgetting. Her posture is both exalted and worn. One hand raised in silent benediction, the other buried in the tangle of flowering vines wrapping around her legs—life clinging to light, as though nature itself refuses to let go of what she remembers. Etched across her glass-like surface are thin veins of glowing amber: pathways of forgotten prayers, tracing up her legs, over her spine, across her collarbones like fading constellations. Her face is concealed behind a split golden visor, semi-open like the petals of a mechanical flower—revealing only light. From her back, two vast wings made of layered crystalline blades curve upward like collapsed architecture—part cathedral, part ruin. They shimmer not with fire, but with reflected memory, like a sky that forgot how to storm. Around her, broken statuary and shattered machines lie half-swallowed by roots and blossoms. In the distance, a forest made of circuitry burns without smoke—slowly, beautifully. Above, stars pulse in unnatural constellations, forming sigils from before language. Hovering just above her head spins a halo unlike any known form—a fractured ring of refracted glass, filled with flowing text that no longer aligns with any living tongue. It does not glow—it remembers. Rendered in the style of an impressionist-Renaissance hybrid painting, layered with visible brush textures, fog-softened edges, and gold-split chiaroscuro. Warm dusk tones dominate the palette: blood-orange, dusk-lavender, rusted copper, soft pollen white. She is the Benediction Engine—not worshipped, not feared, not obeyed. She simply remains, bearing witness to everything we were, and everything we failed to become.

16 days ago

A hyper-realistic close-up portrait of a captivating young Victorian lady with an otherworldly, dreamlike aura — her porcelain skin softly illuminated as if touched by moonlight. Her large almond-shaped blue eyes gleam with depth and quiet mystery, framed by long dark lashes and arched brows. Subtle chiaroscuro lighting sculpts her face, revealing high cheekbones and full red lips parted in an enigmatic half-smile. Her platinum-blonde hair flows in loose waves that catch golden light, while delicate mist swirls faintly around her. She wears an ornate gold choker with cascading filigree chains, diamond droplets, and a crescent moon pendant glowing faintly at her throat — a symbol of hidden magic. Matching gold hoop earrings shimmer softly in the darkness. Her sheer black lace corset bodice is embroidered with fine floral patterns, high-collared and elegant, revealing the faint outline of her collarbones beneath the translucent fabric. The background dissolves into a deep, velvety black void that accentuates her luminous presence. Subtle volumetric rays of light descend like a blessing, casting ethereal golden reflections on her jewelry and skin. Photorealistic rendering in the style of Tim Walker meets Alphonse Mucha — fashion-meets-myth, beauty sculpted from silence. Ultra-detailed textures, 8K resolution, sharp focus on eyes and lips, cinematic depth. An image born from reverie — where light remembers the soul.

8 months ago

"Create an artistic, semi-realistic depiction of lord Shiva’s third eye opening, releasing a burst of divine energy in pastel yellow, orange, and lavender hues that blend seamlessly into the sky." remember lord shiva is sitting in meditative posture with his 2 eyes closed but his third eye opened

3 months ago

In Innocence and sin When it was air I was breathing I cannot remember, for it was at the beginning of time itself or so it seems. For every feeling there was disgrace, for every thought remorse. So come, come listen to the sound and read the signs before I fade beyond grey into black. Above what's underneath maggots crawl in the half-light of an underground dawn. Scared and with all this dirt staining my skin, going deep within, until I rise again to meet the face of the one that I knelt before. Now in silence I stand for words are dead and nothing but love can be felt as time ends and forever I will remain the same in innocence and sin.

6 months ago

A very old dog lies curled up on a hospital bed beside the waist of its aging male owner. Only the waist of its owner is visible in the blurred background. The dog is a medium sized long-haired collie cross with black and tan fur and a short, gray muzzle. We see the dog in full view, its old, sad eyes filled with deep affection. This is a tender scene depicting the last days of life for the dog and the owner as they each remember their strong bond and their life together. Make this a black and white image with a blurred background.

2 months ago

A lone knight in 16-bit pixel art, in the style of Final Fantasy IX, standing on an ancient stone terrace above a floating island shrouded in golden clouds. He wears a long, dramatic cloak of black velvet with crimson lining that billows gently, as if the wind were singing around it. Beneath it, he wears light armor of Renaissance design: white plates with gold edges, high, rounded shoulder pads, a breastplate shaped like an inverted flower (like Cecil or Zidane's armor), and gauntlets with metallic lace detailing. His face is young, but with a mature soul: shoulder-length silver hair, deep-set green eyes that gaze into the distance, skin as pale as the moon. He wears no helmet. Behind his back, a longsword is sheathed in a dark wooden scabbard inked with golden runes, tied with a frayed red ribbon. At his side, a black feather floats in the air, as if the final word of a forgotten spell. The sky is an eternal sunset: shades of peach, lavender, and old gold, like in the kingdom of Madain Sari. Small magical lights (like memory fairies) flicker around, forming fleeting figures: a face, a hand, a lost city. Soft lighting, warm HDR, depth of field layered with pixel art. 16-bit style with a watercolor soul. This is not a warrior. It's a knight of memory. The last one who remembers.

7 months ago

Our artifact is a single system — but with two moments. It begins low to the ground — a woven, rhythmic form that reflects housing, health, and environmental challenges. This base represents architecture rooted in land, in community, in ecological thinking. From there, the form begins to lift — twisting, rising, and spiraling. This vertical movement becomes a spatial metaphor for regenerative growth: architecture that breathes, that transforms, and that activates. The two are not separate. They’re part of one continuous system — shaped by the same modular spiral logic, but expressed differently: one as shelter, the other as signal. Together, they form a talisman for our project — a structure that remembers the Earth.

8 months ago

Manya Menon and Aaru Mathew had been competing with each other for as long as they could remember. Whether it was academics, sports, or extracurricular activities, they always aimed to outshine the other. Living in the breathtaking town of Munnar, known for its rolling tea plantations, misty hills, and serene lakes, their rivalry had become the talk of their school.

1 month ago

Chrono-adaptive viral therapies harvested from forgotten Martian cryptogels are administered intravenously during REM-state inversions. Subjects are strapped inside bio-thrones carved from failed ancestors. After 47 days, most emerge translucent, singing backwards, bleeding code from their pores. I am sleepless, orbiting the echo of a voice that never ends. I remember the future as disease. Epic, cinematic Himax colours and lighting (dystopian, terrifying:1.9), (Science Fiction style:1.9). (Strange mysterious, symbols, and scripts:1.9).