outside and within prompts

8 months ago

First person POV, the Sultan slowly awakens in his grand bedroom within the Ottoman palace. The sunlight pours gently through large, ornately decorated windows, casting warm light onto the rich, patterned carpets and luxurious furnishings. The Sultan’s hand, adorned with several exquisite Ottoman rings, rests on the silk sheets as he stretches, feeling the softness of the fine fabrics. His room is filled with lavish details: golden candelabras flicker softly in the morning light, and the scent of fresh flowers from nearby vases fills the air. The walls are lined with intricate tapestries, and the ceiling is painted with scenes of imperial victories. His velvet robe, embroidered with gold, lies neatly on a chaise longue beside his bed. His boots are visible at the foot of the bed, waiting to be worn as the day begins. The soft murmurs of palace attendants can be heard from outside, preparing the Sultan’s court for the day ahead. --ar 9:16 --s 250

7 months ago

A breathtaking depiction of the empty tomb of Jesus Christ at sunrise. The large stone is rolled away, revealing a glowing, radiant light from within the tomb. The entrance is surrounded by rugged rock formations, with soft mist rising in the morning air. The background features a golden sunrise casting warm rays over a peaceful landscape, with a few birds soaring in the sky. A faint, holy silhouette of Jesus stands outside backing the tomb in a flowing white robe, radiating divine light. The atmosphere is serene, sacred, and filled with a sense of hope and victory. The image should have a cinematic, hyper-realistic style, with stunning lighting effects that evoke awe and reverence

6 months ago

A surreal and whimsical composition of a large, detailed feather containing an entire miniature landscape within its curves. Inside the feather: a peaceful countryside with a small red-roofed cottage, winding trails, colorful autumn trees, a flowing river, and distant mountains. A tall, jagged rock formation rises in the background like a natural spire, while soft white clouds and small birds drift above the scene, partially spilling outside the feather’s edges into the sky.

8 months ago

A lone figure sits in the dim glow of a starship cabin, his silhouette framed by the vast, endless void of space beyond the panoramic window. His shoulders sag under the crushing weight of a lifetime that never was, a sorrow deeper than time itself. The cabin is illuminated just enough light to see the lone figure and the ghostly blue luminescence of distant stars, casting long, soft-edged shadows. In his hands, he cradles a simple yet profoundly meaningful artifact—a well-worn flute, its polished surface dulled by the passage of time and the warmth of a thousand memories. His fingers trace its delicate engravings, the only tangible link to a past erased by fate. His face, lined with grief, is streaked with silent tears that glisten in the low light. His expression is one of quiet devastation—the agony of remembering something beautiful yet irretrievably lost. As he lifts the flute to his lips, a soft, ethereal melody drifts into the air, carrying with it the echoes of a forgotten civilization. The haunting tune lingers, filling the sterile cabin with something profoundly human—a love and a life that once were, now existing only in this fragile moment. The atmosphere is heavy with nostalgia, the intangible presence of lost souls lingering like whispers in the void. Outside the starship, the universe stretches infinitely, stars pulsing like distant memories, nebulae swirling in cosmic blues and violets, a breathtaking contrast to the intimate sorrow within. This is a scene of quiet contemplation, where time stands still, and the weight of history is held in a single note. **Cinematic lighting, hyper-detailed textures, emotional depth, sci-fi realism, moody atmosphere, dramatic composition, ultra-HD 8K resolution, subtle interplay of warm and cool light sources, vertical aspect ratio, evocative storytelling.**

7 months ago

Picture a cozy log cabin nestled deep in a tranquil winter forest, the snow blanketing the ground in a thick, untouched layer. The cabin is made from dark, weathered logs, their rough textures illuminated by the warm glow of a crackling campfire just outside. The fire flickers and dances, sending soft orange and yellow hues that contrast beautifully with the cold, blue-tinted night. Snow gently falls around the cabin, each flake catching the firelight as it drifts down. The windows of the cabin glow warmly from within, the light spilling through the wooden shutters, suggesting the comfort and warmth inside. Thick smoke rises lazily from the chimney, curling against the night sky, merging with the crisp winter air. The surrounding trees are bare and towering, their branches heavy with snow, casting long shadows on the ground as the firelight flickers and shifts. The campfire itself crackles loudly, its embers sending sparks flying into the air, while the sound of the snow crunching beneath the slightest movement fills the air with a soft, serene quiet. A few logs are stacked nearby, some half-burned in the fire, their edges blackened. The whole scene radiates a sense of peace and solitude, a serene contrast between the warmth of the fire and the coldness of the snowy woods around it. The night sky above is clear and full of stars, adding to the magical stillness of the winter wilderness. 8k, intricate detail, photorealistic, realistic light, wide angle, kinkfolk photography, A+D architecture

6 months ago

A surreal and whimsical composition of a large, detailed feather containing an entire miniature landscape within its curves. Inside the feather: a peaceful countryside with a small red-roofed cottage, winding trails, colorful autumn trees, a flowing river, and distant mountains. A tall, jagged rock formation rises in the background like a natural spire, while soft white clouds and small birds drift above the scene, partially spilling outside the feather’s edges into the sky.

3 months ago

In the image, Rapunzel is depicted within the confines of her tower, a place that has been both her sanctuary and her prison. Her long, flowing golden hair cascades down like a shimmering waterfall, instantly making her recognizable. This hair, which has always been her most defining feature, is intricately woven into a stunning piece of lingerie that she wears with confidence and grace. The strands of her hair are interlaced with sparkling flower petals, adding a touch of nature's beauty and a hint of magic to her attire. The petals glisten as if kissed by the morning dew, reflecting the light that filters through the tower window. Rapunzel stands tall and proud, her posture radiating a sense of longing and determination. Her eyes, full of dreams and aspirations, gaze into the distance, embodying her deep yearning for adventure and freedom. The tower around her is a mix of rustic stone and aged wood, with vines creeping up the walls, symbolizing the passage of time and her connection to the outside world. Through the window, a lush, green forest stretches out, a stark contrast to her solitary confinement, beckoning her to explore the unknown. The scene captures a moment of quiet resolve, as Rapunzel stands on the precipice of her destiny, ready to embrace whatever lies beyond her tower walls.

2 months ago

Her mind was a shattered vessel, its lid pried open to reveal a swirling maelstrom of dark thoughts, a ceaseless current of pain and suffering. Each agonizing beat of her heart echoed the relentless rhythm of a dictatorship that refused to see its own people, to hear their cries, to acknowledge their very existence. This oppressive silence, heavier than any chains, had systematically destroyed her will, reducing it to ash. Life, once a vibrant river, was now a stagnant, poisoned pool, draining her soul with every breath she took. The world, outside and within, was nothing but a dystopian wreck, a testament to forgotten hope and enduring torment.

2 months ago

Her mind was a shattered vessel, its lid pried open to reveal a swirling maelstrom of dark thoughts, a ceaseless current of pain and suffering. Each agonizing beat of her heart echoed the relentless rhythm of a dictatorship that refused to see its own people, to hear their cries, to acknowledge their very existence. This oppressive silence, heavier than any chains, had systematically destroyed her will, reducing it to ash. Life, once a vibrant river, was now a stagnant, poisoned pool, draining her soul with every breath she took. The world, outside and within, was nothing but a dystopian wreck, a testament to forgotten hope and enduring torment.

3 months ago

A black and white illustration of a solitary woman standing by an open window, with a long sheer veil flowing in the wind. The veil features delicate embroidered patterns — like roses, constellations, or ancient symbols — subtly woven into the fabric, visible through contrast and light. Her figure is softly backlit, casting dramatic shadows across her profile and gown. Her expression is contemplative, distant, as if listening to something only the wind can say. The composition is rich in contrast: the glowing light outside meets the soft darkness within, highlighting the textures of the veil, her skin, and the wooden window frame. The overall mood is timeless, poetic, and quietly powerful. Style keywords: black and white, high contrast, emotional silhouette, embroidered veil, flowing fabric, poetic, window light, wind movement, soft shadows, monochrome art, vintage, delicate detail, symbolic embroidery

3 months ago

A black and white illustration of a solitary woman standing by an open window, with a long sheer veil flowing in the wind. The veil features delicate embroidered patterns — like roses, constellations, or ancient symbols — subtly woven into the fabric, visible through contrast and light. Her figure is softly backlit, casting dramatic shadows across her profile and gown. Her expression is contemplative, distant, as if listening to something only the wind can say. The composition is rich in contrast: the glowing light outside meets the soft darkness within, highlighting the textures of the veil, her skin, and the wooden window frame. The overall mood is timeless, poetic, and quietly powerful. Style keywords: black and white, high contrast, emotional silhouette, embroidered veil, flowing fabric, poetic, window light, wind movement, soft shadows, monochrome art, vintage, delicate detail, symbolic embroidery

7 months ago

"Depict the Night of Qadr in Kufa, with a starry sky glowing in deep blue, dotted with shimmering silver stars, and a soft moonlight casting a serene glow. The Kufa Mosque, with its simple mud-brick walls and small dome, radiates a gentle golden-white light from within, illuminating the surrounding area. People in white and green robes kneel in prayer outside the mosque, their murmurs filling the air with a sacred atmosphere. The scene blends deep blues, silvers, and warm golds, creating a peaceful, divine ambiance under the mystical night sky."

8 months ago

A lone figure sits in the dim glow of a starship cabin, his silhouette framed by the vast, endless void of space beyond the panoramic window. His shoulders sag under the crushing weight of a lifetime that never was, a sorrow deeper than time itself. The cabin is sparsely illuminated by flickering console lights and the ghostly blue luminescence of distant stars, casting long, soft-edged shadows. In his hands, he cradles a simple yet profoundly meaningful artifact—a well-worn flute, its polished surface dulled by the passage of time and the warmth of a thousand memories. His fingers trace its delicate engravings, the only tangible link to a past erased by fate. His face, lined with grief, is streaked with silent tears that glisten in the low light. His expression is one of quiet devastation—the agony of remembering something beautiful yet irretrievably lost. As he lifts the flute to his lips, a soft, ethereal melody drifts into the air, carrying with it the echoes of a forgotten civilization. The haunting tune lingers, filling the sterile cabin with something profoundly human—a love and a life that once were, now existing only in this fragile moment. The atmosphere is heavy with nostalgia, the intangible presence of lost souls lingering like whispers in the void. Outside the starship, the universe stretches infinitely, stars pulsing like distant memories, nebulae swirling in cosmic blues and violets, a breathtaking contrast to the intimate sorrow within. This is a scene of quiet contemplation, where time stands still, and the weight of history is held in a single note. **Cinematic lighting, hyper-detailed textures, emotional depth, sci-fi realism, moody atmosphere, dramatic composition, ultra-HD 8K resolution, subtle interplay of warm and cool light sources, vertical aspect ratio, evocative storytelling.**

8 months ago

A lone figure sits in the dim glow of a starship cabin, his silhouette framed by the vast, endless void of space beyond the panoramic window. His shoulders sag under the crushing weight of a lifetime that never was, a sorrow deeper than time itself. The cabin is illuminated just enough light to see the lone figure and the ghostly blue luminescence of distant stars, casting long, soft-edged shadows. In his hands, he cradles a simple yet profoundly meaningful artifact—a well-worn flute, its polished surface dulled by the passage of time and the warmth of a thousand memories. His fingers trace its delicate engravings, the only tangible link to a past erased by fate. His face, lined with grief, is streaked with silent tears that glisten in the low light. His expression is one of quiet devastation—the agony of remembering something beautiful yet irretrievably lost. As he lifts the flute to his lips, a soft, ethereal melody drifts into the air, carrying with it the echoes of a forgotten civilization. The haunting tune lingers, filling the sterile cabin with something profoundly human—a love and a life that once were, now existing only in this fragile moment. The atmosphere is heavy with nostalgia, the intangible presence of lost souls lingering like whispers in the void. Outside the starship, the universe stretches infinitely, stars pulsing like distant memories, nebulae swirling in cosmic blues and violets, a breathtaking contrast to the intimate sorrow within. This is a scene of quiet contemplation, where time stands still, and the weight of history is held in a single note. **Cinematic lighting, hyper-detailed textures, emotional depth, sci-fi realism, moody atmosphere, dramatic composition, ultra-HD 8K resolution, subtle interplay of warm and cool light sources, vertical aspect ratio, evocative storytelling.**

8 months ago

A lone figure sits in the dim glow of a starship cabin, his silhouette framed by the vast, endless void of space beyond the panoramic window. His shoulders sag under the crushing weight of a lifetime that never was, a sorrow deeper than time itself. The cabin is illuminated just enough light to see the lone figure and the ghostly blue luminescence of distant stars, casting long, soft-edged shadows. In his hands, he cradles a simple yet profoundly meaningful artifact—a well-worn flute, its polished surface dulled by the passage of time and the warmth of a thousand memories. His fingers trace its delicate engravings, the only tangible link to a past erased by fate. His face, lined with grief, is streaked with silent tears that glisten in the low light. His expression is one of quiet devastation—the agony of remembering something beautiful yet irretrievably lost. As he lifts the flute to his lips, a soft, ethereal melody drifts into the air, carrying with it the echoes of a forgotten civilization. The haunting tune lingers, filling the sterile cabin with something profoundly human—a love and a life that once were, now existing only in this fragile moment. The atmosphere is heavy with nostalgia, the intangible presence of lost souls lingering like whispers in the void. Outside the starship, the universe stretches infinitely, stars pulsing like distant memories, nebulae swirling in cosmic blues and violets, a breathtaking contrast to the intimate sorrow within. This is a scene of quiet contemplation, where time stands still, and the weight of history is held in a single note. **Cinematic lighting, hyper-detailed textures, emotional depth, sci-fi realism, moody atmosphere, dramatic composition, ultra-HD 8K resolution, subtle interplay of warm and cool light sources, vertical aspect ratio, evocative storytelling.**

6 months ago

This photograph showcases a modern, minimalist architectural structure with a focus on concrete and geometric shapes. The image is taken from within the building, looking out towards the courtyard. The dominant color is various shades of grey, ranging from the dark, almost black concrete walls to lighter, sunlit areas. The walls are smooth with a polished finish, and the overall design is characterized by sharp angles and clean lines. In the foreground, a large concrete pillar with a slightly rough texture stands out, casting shadows on the polished concrete floor. To the right, a rectangular window with a wooden frame reveals a glimpse of lush greenery outside. Further back, another set of windows with similar wooden frames allows natural light to illuminate the interior spaces. The courtyard visible through these windows is sparsely landscaped, with a few small plants and a concrete planter. The ceiling, also made of concrete, has a slightly rougher texture than the walls, indicating different construction materials or techniques. The lighting is natural, likely from the sun, casting soft shadows that emphasize the depth and structure of the building. The overall atmosphere is serene and contemplative, with an emphasis on the interplay of light and shadow.

7 months ago

Full shot, Nader Shah Afshar, now 60 years old, lies within a canvas tent, his face marked with the deep lines of age and battle. His eyes are closed, resting, yet his hand grips the hilt of his sword, resting beside him, ready for action. The blade gleams faintly in the dim light, a symbol of his power and the weight of his rule. His attire is that of a royal warrior—he wears a richly embroidered silk robe, deep crimson in color, adorned with intricate Persian motifs of gold thread. Underneath, a dark tunic made from fine wool clings to his body, its fabric slightly creased from sleep. His black sash, thick and embroidered, is wrapped tightly around his waist. A heavy, ornate belt hangs from his side, with a dagger tucked in. Around the perimeter of the tent, the shadows of soldiers with drawn swords stretch across the canvas, their forms shifting and dark against the night. The danger is palpable, their presence unmistakable. The night is thick with tension as the stillness is broken only by the occasional sound of the wind rustling the tent. The dim light from a distant fire casts an eerie glow, highlighting the ominous figures waiting outside, poised for any sudden action. The atmosphere is heavy with the promise of imminent danger.

7 months ago

Nader Shah Afshar, now 60 years old, lies within a canvas tent, his face marked with the deep lines of age and battle. His eyes are closed, resting, yet his hand grips the hilt of his sword, resting beside him, ready for action. The blade gleams faintly in the dim light, a symbol of his power and the weight of his rule. His attire is that of a royal warrior—he wears a richly embroidered silk robe, deep crimson in color, adorned with intricate Persian motifs of gold thread. Underneath, a dark tunic made from fine wool clings to his body, its fabric slightly creased from sleep. His black sash, thick and embroidered, is wrapped tightly around his waist. A heavy, ornate belt hangs from his side, with a dagger tucked in. Around the perimeter of the tent, the shadows of soldiers with drawn swords stretch across the canvas, their forms shifting and dark against the night. The danger is palpable, their presence unmistakable. The night is thick with tension as the stillness is broken only by the occasional sound of the wind rustling the tent. The dim light from a distant fire casts an eerie glow, highlighting the ominous figures waiting outside, poised for any sudden action. The atmosphere is heavy with the promise of imminent danger.

7 months ago

Nader Shah Afshar, now 60 years old, lies within a canvas tent, his face marked with the deep lines of age and battle. His eyes are closed, resting, yet his hand grips the hilt of his sword, resting beside him, ready for action. The blade gleams faintly in the dim light, a symbol of his power and the weight of his rule. His attire is that of a royal warrior—he wears a richly embroidered silk robe, deep crimson in color, adorned with intricate Persian motifs of gold thread. Underneath, a dark tunic made from fine wool clings to his body, its fabric slightly creased from sleep. His black sash, thick and embroidered, is wrapped tightly around his waist. A heavy, ornate belt hangs from his side, with a dagger tucked in. Around the perimeter of the tent, the shadows of soldiers with drawn swords stretch across the canvas, their forms shifting and dark against the night. The danger is palpable, their presence unmistakable. The night is thick with tension as the stillness is broken only by the occasional sound of the wind rustling the tent. The dim light from a distant fire casts an eerie glow, highlighting the ominous figures waiting outside, poised for any sudden action. The atmosphere is heavy with the promise of imminent danger.

7 months ago

First person POV, the Sultan slowly awakens in his grand bedroom within the Ottoman palace. The sunlight pours gently through large, ornately decorated windows, casting warm light onto the rich, patterned carpets and luxurious furnishings. The Sultan’s hand, adorned with several exquisite Ottoman rings, rests on the silk sheets as he stretches, feeling the softness of the fine fabrics. His room is filled with lavish details: golden candelabras flicker softly in the morning light, and the scent of fresh flowers from nearby vases fills the air. The walls are lined with intricate tapestries, and the ceiling is painted with scenes of imperial victories. His velvet robe, embroidered with gold, lies neatly on a chaise longue beside his bed. His boots are visible at the foot of the bed, waiting to be worn as the day begins. The soft murmurs of palace attendants can be heard from outside, preparing the Sultan’s court for the day ahead. --ar 9:16 --s 250

7 months ago

Nader Shah Afshar, now 60 years old, lies within a canvas tent, his face marked with the deep lines of age and battle. His eyes are closed, resting, yet his hand grips the hilt of his sword, resting beside him, ready for action. The blade gleams faintly in the dim light, a symbol of his power and the weight of his rule. His attire is that of a royal warrior—he wears a richly embroidered silk robe, deep crimson in color, adorned with intricate Persian motifs of gold thread. Underneath, a dark tunic made from fine wool clings to his body, its fabric slightly creased from sleep. His black sash, thick and embroidered, is wrapped tightly around his waist. A heavy, ornate belt hangs from his side, with a dagger tucked in. Around the perimeter of the tent, the shadows of soldiers with drawn swords stretch across the canvas, their forms shifting and dark against the night. The danger is palpable, their presence unmistakable. The night is thick with tension as the stillness is broken only by the occasional sound of the wind rustling the tent. The dim light from a distant fire casts an eerie glow, highlighting the ominous figures waiting outside, poised for any sudden action. The atmosphere is heavy with the promise of imminent danger.

7 months ago

Nader Shah Afshar, now 60 years old, lies within a canvas tent, his face marked with the deep lines of age and battle. His eyes are closed, resting, yet his hand grips the hilt of his sword, resting beside him, ready for action. The blade gleams faintly in the dim light, a symbol of his power and the weight of his rule. His attire is that of a royal warrior—he wears a richly embroidered silk robe, deep crimson in color, adorned with intricate Persian motifs of gold thread. Underneath, a dark tunic made from fine wool clings to his body, its fabric slightly creased from sleep. His black sash, thick and embroidered, is wrapped tightly around his waist. A heavy, ornate belt hangs from his side, with a dagger tucked in. Full body camera. Around the perimeter of the tent, the shadows of soldiers with drawn swords stretch across the canvas, their forms shifting and dark against the night. The danger is palpable, their presence unmistakable. The night is thick with tension as the stillness is broken only by the occasional sound of the wind rustling the tent. The dim light from a distant fire casts an eerie glow, highlighting the ominous figures waiting outside, poised for any sudden action. The atmosphere is heavy with the promise of imminent danger.

7 months ago

First person POV, the Sultan slowly awakens in his grand bedroom within the Ottoman palace. The sunlight pours gently through large, ornately decorated windows, casting warm light onto the rich, patterned carpets and luxurious furnishings. The Sultan’s hand, adorned with several exquisite Ottoman rings, rests on the silk sheets as he stretches, feeling the softness of the fine fabrics. His room is filled with lavish details: golden candelabras flicker softly in the morning light, and the scent of fresh flowers from nearby vases fills the air. The walls are lined with intricate tapestries, and the ceiling is painted with scenes of imperial victories. His velvet robe, embroidered with gold, lies neatly on a chaise longue beside his bed. His boots are visible at the foot of the bed, waiting to be worn as the day begins. The soft murmurs of palace attendants can be heard from outside, preparing the Sultan’s court for the day ahead. --ar 9:16 --s 250