sheds prompts

5 months ago

This is a photograph of a woman, from the side, with shoulder length brunette hair and a bob haircut, wearing a long sleeve crop top and underwear, she shows off her fit abs. One arm is raised to her head which is tilted forward and her eyes are closed. leaning on the door of an old worn out wooden shed outside in the pooring rain.

6 months ago

Poster Design of Closeup portrait of an instagram model shedding skin,ultradetailed skin changing from snake skin to human skin,typography “Shedding Past” is overlaid the poster,B&W photography.

6 months ago

Poster Design of Closeup portrait of an instagram model shedding skin,ultradetailed skin changing from snake skin to human skin,typography “Shedding Past” is overlaid the poster,B&W photography.

7 months ago

Create a masterpiece oil painting in a realistic, atmospheric style, inspired by the chilling events in the suburbs of southern Sydney. The scene is set at twilight under an ominous blood-red sky, with a rising full moon partially obscured by swirling clouds. In the foreground, a large, shadow-drenched shed looms ominously on a secluded property near Barton Park, lit only by flickering torchlight. Cult members, cloaked in crimson and black robes, are arranged in a semicircle, performing a sinister ritual. Their faces are partly masked, their hands raised in supplication or soaked in dark fluids—devotion or madness indistinguishable. At the center of the ritual space, a symbolic altar of stone and rusted iron holds the carved remains of ancient demonic sigils from a forgotten grimoire. Faint outlines of chained female figures can be seen in the shadowed distance—ghostly silhouettes of captivity, not detailed graphically, but clearly tragic in tone. In the background, barely visible through the trees, sits a house of torment—its windows barred, a dim light glowing within. A religious building looms even farther away, its steeple outlined under the cursed moon, bearing silent witness to the desecration. Above, the night sky swirls with unnatural energy, as if a gateway is opening between worlds. The painting should evoke a palpable tension: horror without gratuity, symbolism without sensationalism. The tone is eerie, cinematic, and investigative, with subtle nods to the task force closing in—perhaps a pair of headlights breaking the treeline, or the faint silhouette of Detective Tank Dodge watching from a ridge, jaw tight, gun ready, truth dawning. This is a composition of duality—sacrifice and salvation, evil and justice—locked in a battle beneath a cursed sky.

7 months ago

a comic of donald Trump in an alley with trash cans and junk laying around with alley cats bums gravel alley with back of a shed showing a fence with a cat setting on it old tire and some engine parts against the fence with a fish head in the street

7 months ago

As a photographer, take a closeup shot of An african mother (31 years of age) hugging her African son (12 years of age) who has been resurrected from the dead, feeling joyous, shedding tears in an early morning setting outdoors in a garden of colorful flowers

7 months ago

A majestic, ethereal fox-cat hybrid spirit stands alone in a mist-shrouded sacred valley. Her body is tall and graceful, combining feline fluidity with vulpine elegance: Long, slender limbs and a dancer's arched spine, Velvet paws touching the glowing mist with barely a ripple. Her fur flows like living silk: Base color: Deep amethyst-purple, rich and velvety, breathing softly with her movement. Markings: Iridescent rainbow patterns — shifting spirals, ancient glyphs, glowing softly across her body like living memorylight. Her eyes are luminous teal-gold, deep and sorrowful, reflecting the shimmer of distant, broken constellations. She has one immense tail, vast and flowing like a living river of mist: Core color: Deep purple. Edge colors: Blending into glowing trails of red, orange, gold, green, turquoise, blue, and violet mist. Tip: Splits into delicate petal-like wisps, glowing gently. A delicate halo of drifting moonblossoms floats above her head: Blossoms pulse with soft white, pink, and teal hues, shedding faint memory pollen into the mist. Around her, the sacred glade of the Embermist Glades breathes slowly: The ground is covered in living flameflowers, each blossom flickering like a tiny ember breathing with light. Towering crystal trees arch overhead, their branches veined with silver and cracked light. Molten silver rivers snake through the glade, carrying drifting petals and reflections of rainbow light. The sky is veiled in amethyst mist, faintly glowing with every breath. Mistfireflies drift lazily through the air, illuminating the scene with slow, pulsing glimmers. Paxol stands poised at the heart of the glade: Silent, radiant, sovereign. Mist curls around her paws, flameflowers bow subtly in her presence, and the entire glade hums with unseen lullabies of remembrance.

5 months ago

A ruined amphitheater lies open beneath an eternal golden sky—thick with ash, glowing with the last light of truth. The air shimmers with heat and memory. At its heart, a woman stands alone on the cracked stone stage, barefoot, powerful, broken and whole. Her skin is sun-kissed bronze, streaked with dirt and sweat. A deep red ceremonial robe hangs from one shoulder, torn at the hem, golden embroidery catching the light like embers refusing to die. Her long black hair clings to her damp neck and spine, framing her face—eyes fierce, tear-stained, unblinking. A cracked porcelain mask lies at her feet, forgotten. Around her, translucent specters crowd the amphitheater’s crumbling tiers—echoes of past selves, ancestors, lost lovers—half-there and flickering like damaged film. They watch silently, reverently. The woman breathes in, slow and defiant, her chest rising with the weight of every lie she’s shed. Rays of golden light pierce the dust, cutting across her body like revelation. Her hands are open at her sides, fingers trembling—not with fear, but readiness. The gold cannot be hidden from anymore. It’s in her. It is her. In this breathless moment, she stands between exposure and exodus, between shame and fire, and the world dares to watch. Ultra-realistic. Cinematic music-video style. Raw, radiant, symbolic. Emotionally drenched in reckoning and rebirth.

9 months ago

"A cinematic medium shot from a first-person perspective, capturing Rahul Sharma as he stands under a small wooden shed in a rain-soaked park. He wears a fitted white t-shirt that clings slightly to his slim, athletic build due to the dampness of the rain, paired with black slim-fit jeans and white sneakers. His short black hair is slightly damp, styled neatly but tousled by the rain, and his warm brown eyes reflect thoughtfulness and empathy. His posture is relaxed yet attentive, with one hand resting gently on his side as he listens intently. The soft glow of distant streetlights reflects off the wet surfaces and raindrops, creating a dreamy yet somber ambiance. In the background, blurred rain falls steadily, adding to the intimate and melancholic mood."

7 months ago

As a photographer, take a closeup shot of An african mother (31 years of age) hugging her African son (12 years of age) who has been resurrected from the dead, feeling joyous, shedding tears in an early morning setting outdoors in a garden of colorful flowers

8 months ago

(Cinematic UHD, hyper-realistic wide-angle shot of an old wooden park shed with dim yellow lighting, wet ground reflecting the glow, raindrops splashing on the roof, creating tiny streams flowing down, the atmosphere rich with the scent of wet earth, wooden benches slightly damp, a warm yet eerie contrast between the cozy shelter and the raging storm outside, deep cinematic depth, immersive storytelling, lora:cinematic_storytelling:1.3 lora:rainy_mood:1.2)

3 months ago

Delicate watercolor scene capturing the moment the last gray sky sheds its gentle rain, droplets blending with the landscape. In the distance, the horizon glows with soft, warm spring tones — peach, pink, light yellow, and fresh green — spreading across the sky like gentle painterly strokes. Rain and light merge to create a serene, dreamy atmosphere, with fine handmade paper texture, soft focus, ultra-detailed, poetic art style. Include an elegant woman in the style of Vittorio Matteo Corcos: fair-skinned, delicate features, wearing flowing, classical attire, subtle pastel colors, gentle expression, slightly turned pose, soft natural lighting, romantic and refined mood, ultra-realistic details."painting by Vittorio Matteo Corcos --v 6

7 months ago

As a photographer, take a closeup shot of An african mother (31 years of age) wearing a weave-on hugging her African son (12 years of age) who has been resurrected from the dead, feeling joyous, shedding tears in an early morning setting outdoors in a garden of colorful flowers

8 months ago

An eerily tranquil yet devastating scene of a once-thriving elephant sanctuary almost entirely submerged under a vast, murky expanse of water. Only the very tops of a few palm trees and the remnants of some wooden structures peek out from the waterline, serving as stark reminders of the life that once bustled here. The sanctuary's main path, now a submerged trail, weaves through the water, leading to a central area where the stilts of the mahouts' houses poke out like skeletal fingers grasping for the surface. The waterlogged shadows of what used to be elephant sheds stretch out in rows, their thatched roofs now a mere whisper above the water. The activity spaces, which were once filled with the joyful sounds of elephants frolicking and playing, are now silent and barren, with only a hint of their outlines discernible beneath the water's opaque veil. The scene is bathed in a soft, mournful light that filters through the overcast sky, casting a pall over the inundated landscape. The water itself is a still, reflective mirror, capturing the tragedy of the washed-away lives and the resilience of nature that has reclaimed the space. The only sign of life is the solitary figure of a mahout and elephants in the distance, standing on a small patch of dry land, looking out over the flood with a mix of sorrow and hope, his connection to the displaced elephants palpable.

7 months ago

A majestic, ethereal fox-cat hybrid spirit stands alone in a mist-shrouded sacred valley. Her body is tall and graceful, combining feline fluidity with vulpine elegance: Long, slender limbs and a dancer's arched spine, Velvet paws touching the glowing mist with barely a ripple. Her fur flows like living silk: Base color: Deep amethyst-purple, rich and velvety, breathing softly with her movement. Markings: Iridescent rainbow patterns — shifting spirals, ancient glyphs, glowing softly across her body like living memorylight. Her eyes are luminous teal-gold, deep and sorrowful, reflecting the shimmer of distant, broken constellations. She has one immense tail, vast and flowing like a living river of mist: Core color: Deep purple. Edge colors: Blending into glowing trails of red, orange, gold, green, turquoise, blue, and violet mist. Tip: Splits into delicate petal-like wisps, glowing gently. A delicate halo of drifting moonblossoms floats above her head: Blossoms pulse with soft white, pink, and teal hues, shedding faint memory pollen into the mist. Around her, the sacred glade of the Embermist Glades breathes slowly: The ground is covered in living flameflowers, each blossom flickering like a tiny ember breathing with light. Towering crystal trees arch overhead, their branches veined with silver and cracked light. Molten silver rivers snake through the glade, carrying drifting petals and reflections of rainbow light. The sky is veiled in amethyst mist, faintly glowing with every breath. Mistfireflies drift lazily through the air, illuminating the scene with slow, pulsing glimmers. Paxol stands poised at the heart of the glade: Silent, radiant, sovereign. Mist curls around her paws, flameflowers bow subtly in her presence, and the entire glade hums with unseen lullabies of remembrance.

7 months ago

As a photographer, take a closeup shot of An african mother (31 years of age) wearing a weave-on hugging her African son (12 years of age) who has been resurrected from the dead, feeling joyous, shedding tears in an early morning setting outdoors in a garden of colorful flowers

3 months ago

Temptation Desire burns, heads turn, like hungry animals eyes glare. In silence I walk by not a look or a stare. Why should I temptation near? When I know my heart it will tear, my love shed a tear

7 months ago

As a photographer, take a birds-eye view shot of An african mother hugging her African son who has been resurrected from death, feeling happy and joyous, shedding tears of joy in broad daylight outdoors with a vibrant shade.

5 months ago

A ruined amphitheater lies open beneath an eternal golden sky—thick with ash, glowing with the last light of truth. The air shimmers with heat and memory. At its heart, front view of a woman stands alone on the cracked stone stage, barefoot, powerful, broken and whole. Her skin is sun-kissed bronze, streaked with dirt and sweat. A deep red ceremonial robe hangs from one shoulder, torn at the hem, golden embroidery catching the light like embers refusing to die. Her long black hair clings to her damp neck and spine, framing her face—eyes fierce, tear-stained, unblinking. A cracked porcelain mask lies at her feet, forgotten. Around her, translucent specters crowd the amphitheater’s crumbling tiers—echoes of past selves, ancestors, lost lovers—half-there and flickering like damaged film. They watch silently, reverently. The woman breathes in, slow and defiant, her chest rising with the weight of every lie she’s shed. Rays of golden light pierce the dust, cutting across her body like revelation. Her hands are open at her sides, fingers trembling—not with fear, but readiness. The gold cannot be hidden from anymore. It’s in her. It is her. In this breathless moment, she stands between exposure and exodus, between shame and fire, and the world dares to watch. Ultra-realistic. Cinematic music-video style. Raw, radiant, symbolic. Emotionally drenched in reckoning and rebirth.

8 months ago

The stork opens its wounded wings, shedding a few feathers, and takes off with effort. Its dark orange beak remains downturned, black shiny eyes fixed on the distant storks. It flies through rainy air, raindrops falling on its feathers.