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

raw and unfiltered prompts

very few results

3 months ago

cinematic photograph, medium-format film aesthetic (1.6), high-end film photography (1.8), low-key photography (2.0), raw and unfiltered (1.9), visible grain (1.7), natural imperfections, detailed skin texture, subtle blemishes, realistic skin pores with a natural matte finish (2.0), dramatic highlights and shadows (2.0), fine art photography (1.8), inspired by Helmut Newton (1.9), petite French woman, 151 cm tall (1.9), slender hourglass figure (1.8), long dark messy hair flowing naturally to the small of her back (1.8), seated gracefully on a full-scale dark brown leather Chesterfield sofa, its iconic tufted leather design accentuated by the warm, golden light of a directional antique floor lamp (1.9), minimalist wall behind the sofa with neutral desaturated tones, avoiding yellow hues (1.7), large abstract art mounted above the sofa, subtle and proportional (1.7), illuminated by a single directional light source, the antique floor lamp positioned to the right of the subject (2.0), soft warm golden light casting volumetric beams through the textured air (1.9), dramatic sculptural shadows falling across her figure, the leather sofa, and the rustic hardwood floor (2.0), moody and intimate ambiance with shadowy corners fading into darkness (2.0), black sheer stockings, semi-transparent, clinging lightly to her thighs and calves, accentuating her figure (1.8), natural pubic hair explicitly visible, full and thick, 1980s-style, fully covering her genital area (2.0), pubic hair blending naturally with the lighting, realistic texture and density (2.0), confident yet relaxed seated posture with back straight and hands lightly resting on the sofa’s edge (1.8), cinematic sculptural light interplay between her skin, the sofa leather, and the hardwood floor textures (2.0), timeless fine art aesthetic (2.0), cinematic elegance with warm directional lighting (2.0), moody and intimate atmosphere (2.0).

ElectricL
2 140

3 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.

ElectricL
1 36

2 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.

ElectricL
1 42

3 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.

ElectricL
0 58