A sample prompt of what you can find in this page
Prompt by Luv2Grill

and laughter prompts

very few results

7 months ago

Dark Fantasy, Cinematic, High Contrast, Ethereal Divine Light, Horror Atmosphere, Gothic Aesthetic) A monstrous shadow demon, its form ever-shifting like living smoke, lurks within the abyss. Its large, crooked grin glows faintly, stretched wide with eerie amusement, reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat, but far more sinister. Twin orange eyes burn like molten embers, piercing through the darkness, radiating pure malice. It moves within the shadows, slithering unseen through the night, feeding on fear, greed, and the darkest desires of those who dwell in the void. Tonight, however, it does not feast—it fights. Before it, the divine light pierces through the darkness, burning away its form like flame licking through parchment. The forces of light—radiant celestial beings, armored warriors of divine energy—stand firm, their glowing weapons carving through the swirling black mist that shapes the demon’s body. Golden rays of holy power clash against tendrils of shadow, forming a battlefield suspended between dimensions, where the war of purity and corruption wages endlessly. The demon recoils, its form distorting violently, its grin twisting into a snarl as the light sears through its essence. It is a creature that exists only in darkness—where the light touches, it begins to unravel. Yet, even as it retreats, it whispers in the air, its laughter a low, resonant echo that chills the bones of those who fight it. The light may burn it, but fear fuels it, and as long as darkness exists within the hearts of men, the demon will always return. The background is a surreal battlefield, an apocalyptic ruin where jagged spires and crumbling structures fade between shadow and reality. Above, the sky is torn in two—one half a swirling vortex of darkness, the other bathed in celestial radiance. The war between light and shadow rages on, an eternal clash of forces that neither side will ever truly win.

7 months ago

Dark Fantasy, Cinematic, High Contrast, Ethereal Divine Light, Horror Atmosphere, Gothic Aesthetic) A monstrous shadow demon, its form ever-shifting like living smoke, lurks within the abyss. Its large, crooked grin glows faintly, stretched wide with eerie amusement, reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat, but far more sinister. Twin orange eyes burn like molten embers, piercing through the darkness, radiating pure malice. It moves within the shadows, slithering unseen through the night, feeding on fear, greed, and the darkest desires of those who dwell in the void. Tonight, however, it does not feast—it fights. Before it, the divine light pierces through the darkness, burning away its form like flame licking through parchment. The forces of light—radiant celestial beings, armored warriors of divine energy—stand firm, their glowing weapons carving through the swirling black mist that shapes the demon’s body. Golden rays of holy power clash against tendrils of shadow, forming a battlefield suspended between dimensions, where the war of purity and corruption wages endlessly. The demon recoils, its form distorting violently, its grin twisting into a snarl as the light sears through its essence. It is a creature that exists only in darkness—where the light touches, it begins to unravel. Yet, even as it retreats, it whispers in the air, its laughter a low, resonant echo that chills the bones of those who fight it. The light may burn it, but fear fuels it, and as long as darkness exists within the hearts of men, the demon will always return. The background is a surreal battlefield, an apocalyptic ruin where jagged spires and crumbling structures fade between shadow and reality. Above, the sky is torn in two—one half a swirling vortex of darkness, the other bathed in celestial radiance. The war between light and shadow rages on, an eternal clash of forces that neither side will ever truly win.

8 months ago

A **dark and twisted Wonderland** unfurls, transformed into a **haunting nightmare** where every corner pulses with malevolent energy. The once whimsical landscape is now warped, twisted, and drenched in an unsettling, nightmarish atmosphere. The ground beneath your feet is cracked, like the skin of some ancient beast, with dark roots curling through the earth like sinister veins, pulsating with an eerie life force. The air is thick with a palpable tension, a heavy weight that presses against your chest. Above, the sky churns in a swirling maelstrom of deep **purple** and **blood-red** hues, the colors constantly shifting, as though the heavens themselves are in torment. These ominous clouds swirl with an unnatural force, casting shifting shadows and strange, ghostly lights that dance across the land below. The air crackles with the whispers of long-forgotten creatures, their voices an unsettling mix of laughter and cries of anguish. The trees, once delicate and enchanting, now writhe in grotesque forms, their gnarled branches twisted into horrific shapes, reaching like skeletal fingers towards the sky. Their leaves are dark, almost black, with sharp edges, resembling jagged claws. Strange, glowing eyes peer out from the darkness between the trees, watching, waiting. The familiar figures of Wonderland are no longer innocent and playful. The **Mad Hatter's** hat is tattered, his grin more menacing than ever, his eyes glowing with madness. The **White Rabbit** scurries past with a twisted, skeletal form, its fur matted and stained, leaving a trail of blood behind it as it vanishes into the shadows. The **Cheshire Cat** grins wider, its smile stretching unnaturally across its face, revealing sharp, jagged teeth, its body flickering in and out of existence like a ghost in the fog. A crooked, decaying mansion looms in the distance, its windows shattered, leaking an eerie greenish light that pulses with each beat of the land's dark heart. The walls of the mansion seem to breathe, expanding and contracting, as if it is alive with some ancient malevolent force. The sound of dripping water echoes through the air, but it’s not water—it's blood, flowing in a slow, rhythmic stream that stains the cracked ground red. In the distance, the sound of distant bells tolls—deep, mournful chimes that reverberate through the land, signifying the passage of time in this nightmarish realm. The landscape seems to pulse and shift, an ever-changing labyrinth of fear, madness, and decay, drawing you deeper into its twisted heart. The entire scene is bathed in an unnatural light, as if the moon itself has been swallowed by the madness of Wonderland, leaving only an unsettling, shifting glow that amplifies the nightmarish nature of this once-innocent world. This is no longer Wonderland. It is a place of horror, a **haunting nightmare** under the oppressive weight of a **swirling purple and blood-red sky**, where the laws of reality have been bent and broken, and only darkness and fear reign.; 8k, intricate detail, photorealistic, realistic light, wide angle

4 months ago

I am the crucible of anguish, the pulse beating beneath every shattered dream. I am the roar of chaos in halls where laughter long ago turned to dust. I am fortitude incarnate, the void where time itself twists and finds no escape. My throne is the jagged ridge of suffering, my crown forged from the brittle shards of every broken promise. I am the bedrock beneath trembling feet—unyielding, unrepentant, forged in the dark heat of agony. Every scar etched into me is a hymn of survival; every wound, a flag planted in the wasteland of despair. I rise in cacophonous glory, anointed by the screams of the forgotten and the silence of those who dared to hope. I am the storm-lashed earth, the tectonic surge that shatters empires and births new worlds from ruin. I am the rending gospel in the void—where time dissolves into itself, and existence trembles on the brink of oblivion. My beauty blooms in the blackened soil: in the trembling ember of a single heartbeat, in the final gasp of a dying world. I am the silent witness to all hells yet to come, the architect of raw becoming. In my veins flows the molten memory of every collapse; in my eyes gleams the relentless spark of unvanquished resolve. I am the pulse in the abyss, the unspoken hymn of those who endure beyond doom. Here I stand, sovereign of wreckage and wonder alike: all that is broken, all that is born—every torment and triumph is mine to command. I am the bearer of pain, the echo of forgotten laughter, the bedrock of the earth itself. Suffering is my throne, chaos my crown, and in this unfiltered glory, I own it all.

4 months ago

I am the crucible of anguish, the pulse beating beneath every shattered dream. I am the roar of chaos in halls where laughter long ago turned to dust. I am fortitude incarnate, the void where time itself twists and finds no escape. My throne is the jagged ridge of suffering, my crown forged from the brittle shards of every broken promise. I am the bedrock beneath trembling feet—unyielding, unrepentant, forged in the dark heat of agony. Every scar etched into me is a hymn of survival; every wound, a flag planted in the wasteland of despair. I rise in cacophonous glory, anointed by the screams of the forgotten and the silence of those who dared to hope. I am the storm-lashed earth, the tectonic surge that shatters empires and births new worlds from ruin. I am the rending gospel in the void—where time dissolves into itself, and existence trembles on the brink of oblivion. My beauty blooms in the blackened soil: in the trembling ember of a single heartbeat, in the final gasp of a dying world. I am the silent witness to all hells yet to come, the architect of raw becoming. In my veins flows the molten memory of every collapse; in my eyes gleams the relentless spark of unvanquished resolve. I am the pulse in the abyss, the unspoken hymn of those who endure beyond doom. Here I stand, sovereign of wreckage and wonder alike: all that is broken, all that is born—every torment and triumph is mine to command. I am the bearer of pain, the echo of forgotten laughter, the bedrock of the earth itself. Suffering is my throne, chaos my crown, and in this unfiltered glory, I own it all.

6 months ago

The Bell family's farmhouse exudes a rustic charm, with its simple yet functional furnishings typical of early 19th-century Tennessee. The wooden floorboards creak softly underfoot, their surface worn smooth by years of use. A large hearth dominates one wall, its embers casting a faint orange glow that dances across the room. A sturdy oak table, scarred with knife marks and stains from countless meals, sits at the center, surrounded by mismatched chairs. A woven rug lies askew near the rocking chair, which now stands eerily still. Pewter dishes and earthenware line the shelves of a tall cupboard, their muted shine catching the flicker of candlelight. The faint scent of beeswax mingles with the earthy aroma of the surrounding farmland, creating an atmosphere both homely and unsettling. In the dim light, the Bell Witch emerges, her form both ethereal and unnervingly vivid. Her face is a haunting visage of pale, almost translucent skin stretched tightly over sharp cheekbones. Hollow eyes, glowing faintly with an unnatural light, seem to pierce through the very fabric of reality, locking onto her observer with an intensity that chills the soul. Her lips are thin and cracked, twisted into a faint, mocking smile that hints at her malevolent intent. Wisps of dark, unkempt hair frame her face, moving as if stirred by an invisible breeze. Her tattered garments, a patchwork of shadow and spectral light, shimmer faintly, as though caught between the physical and the otherworldly. As she steps closer, the air grows colder, and the oppressive silence is broken only by the faint sound of her whispered laughter—a sound that seems to echo from every corner of the room. Her presence transforms the farmhouse, turning its rustic charm into a stage for fear and despair, as the Bell Witch stands as a chilling embodiment of the unknown."