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

their forms twisted and broken prompts

very few results

9 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

A vast, windswept plain stretches endlessly under a storm-darkened sky, the land cracked and scorched from the aftermath of a brutal sorcerer’s duel. Towering, jagged clouds churn violently above, illuminated by streaks of purple lightning that crackle across the heavens, casting ominous flashes of light over the battlefield. At the center of this desolation stands the victorious, malevolent sorcerer—a towering, sinister figure with half of his face shrouded in swirling smoke and glowing, crackling purple energy. His expression is one of cold triumph as his glowing, inhuman eye burns with power. Before him, his defeated foe lies sprawled on the ground, his form crumpled and broken, robes tattered and bloodstained. The fallen sorcerer’s body is limp, his face twisted in despair and pain as the last remnants of his soul are ripped from his chest. Glowing tendrils of ethereal light—streams of ghostly white, blue, and violet energy—pour upward like smoke, writhing and coiling as they are drawn into the victor’s outstretched hand. The defeated sorcerer’s soul flickers and splinters, taking the form of countless ghostly faces screaming silently as they are siphoned into the dark vortex swirling in the sorcerer’s palm. The victorious sorcerer stands tall, his dark, flowing robes billowing violently in the wind as though alive, tattered edges writhing like shadows. His gnarled hands, covered in dark rings and veins glowing faintly with power, radiate with purple energy that pulses like lightning. Trails of smoke and embers rise from his form, blending into the stormy sky as the sorcerer’s aura bends the very air around him. The ground beneath his feet cracks and glows with faint purple fissures, as if the land itself recoils from his presence. The battlefield is littered with charred earth and faint arcs of residual energy, remnants of the ferocity of their duel. In the distance, faint silhouettes of jagged rock formations pierce the horizon, shrouded in drifting mist. A cold wind sweeps through the plain, carrying with it the echoes of screams and the distant rumble of thunder. Above, the clouds twist into a dark vortex, as if nature itself acknowledges the sorcerer’s dominance. The purple lightning dances around him, refracted and amplified by the energy of the soul being consumed. The composition is dynamic and cinematic: the sorcerer, center-frame, looms over his fallen opponent, one hand raised high as the swirling, ghostly soul tendrils spiral into him. His form crackles with immense power, the light of the extracted soul casting a vibrant glow across his sinister face. The defeated sorcerer lies sprawled at his feet, his body limp, with faint residual light seeping from his chest as his soul is pulled free. The dramatic lighting and contrast—deep shadows broken by radiant purples and ghostly whites—create an atmosphere of awe and terror, solidifying the sorcerer’s godlike victory.

8 months ago

An award-winning oil painting masterpiece of gothic horror, drenched in dread and decay, depicting a deeply disturbing, broken antique doll abandoned in the rotting attic of a long-forgotten house. The doll sits slumped against a crumbling wooden beam, its body shattered in places—one arm missing, porcelain skull cracked wide open to reveal the hollow black within. Jagged fractures run down its face like veins, and from its single remaining eye, a glassy stare glints with unnatural awareness. Its dress, once delicate lace, hangs in tatters—stained with water damage, soot, and something darker. Mold creeps across the fabric in blotches of sickly green and grey. Strands of coarse hair cling to its scalp, damp and matted. A faint trail of something red and dry streaks down its chin, and its grin—half-formed, half-split—is too wide, too human. The room around it is soaked in dampness and decay. The wallpaper peels in curled sheets, revealing blackened, mold-covered boards beneath. The ceiling sags with rot, and rainwater drips slowly from a rusted pipe in the corner, pooling into a warped floorboard that has split open like a wound. The light is minimal—just a faint, sickly greenish glow leaking through a broken window veiled with grime, casting long shadows that twist unnaturally. The palette is dank and heavy—deep, desaturated hues of mildew green, rotting wood brown, ashen grey, and blood-maroon. The brushwork is thick, expressive, and moody, every stroke enhancing the feeling of moist air, silence, and a presence just beyond the frame. The overall effect is suffocating and magnetic—a visual whisper from the darker corners of memory and imagination. A chilling, unforgettable oil masterpiece—where the doll doesn’t just sit, but lingers

8 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."

2 months ago

“Hyperrealistic miniature garlic knight, knee-high, mounted on a spectral horse made of aged garlic roots and dried vines, riding through a misty battlefield at dawn. His body is a single, weathered garlic bulb — pale ivory skin with papery, translucent layers peeling at the edges, stained with mud, dried sap, and battle scars. His face emerges from the natural segmentation of the cloves: large, weary human eyes — deep brown irises with soft highlights, framed by thick brows formed by the ridges between cloves. His expression is calm, resolute, and slightly sorrowful — no vanity, only duty. He wears a tattered tunic of coarse burlap and leaf-plate armor, reinforced with seed-shell pauldrons, cinched with a wide, weathered leather belt — cracked, stained, with a rusted iron buckle. On his feet: tall, scuffed leather boots, curved toes, high heels — practical, not decorative. On his head: a dented iron helmet, salvaged from a fallen knight, wrapped in vine cords. His horse is a majestic creature of the earth — body formed from twisted garlic roots, mane of dried fibrous strands, eyes glowing faintly amber, hooves leaving faint steam on the wet ground. Background: ruined battlefield, broken lances, crows circling in fog, golden light piercing through storm clouds. Shot on ARRI Alexa 65, 75mm anamorphic lens, shallow depth of field, desaturated dawn lighting with warm highlights, ultra-detailed textures (garlic papery layers, root fibers, leather grain, rust flakes, mud splatter, water droplets), live-action fantasy film aesthetic, by Guillermo del Toro and Roger Deakins, 8K cinematic masterpiece.”

2 months ago

**Masterpiece, extremely detailed pen and ink illustration, 8K, photorealistic, hyper-realistic details, intricate crosshatching technique, monumental, dramatic lighting, extreme contrast, depth of field.** **Subject:** A massive, sunken battleship wreck, resting on the ocean floor as a tomb of steel. The hull is covered in thousands of dense layers of barnacles, corals, and marine vegetation, forming a living, organic cloak. Everything is rusted, with twisted and deformed metal surfaces, yet the former grandeur of the warship remains. A flash of light emanates from a broken porthole, hinting at the presence of something alive within. Coral reefs and seaweed entwine around the gun turrets and masts, as nature slowly but surely reclaims what was lost. **Environment:** The entire scene is monochromatic in sepia tones, with only some of the smallest reef inhabitants glowing with a faint, bluish light. Sunbeams penetrate the murky water, illuminating the ship, creating soft shadows and highlighting every single detail of the surface texture. The water is still and calm, conveying a sense of absolute isolation and solitude. The entire atmosphere is dark and moody, yet filled with incredible beauty and tranquility. **Atmosphere:** The image is executed with incredible precision, using a crosshatching technique to create depth and texture. The composition is slightly tilted, which gives the scene a dynamic, almost surreal quality. It is a narrative about the end of an era and the beginning of new life, where nature triumphs.

8 months ago

In the heart of a shadowed crypt, a majestic vampiress stands as the embodiment of dark power and timeless elegance. Her long, flowing black hair frames her strikingly beautiful face, which remains bare and uncovered, revealing her flawless, porcelain-like complexion. Her piercing red eyes glow faintly, exuding an air of mystery and command. Her expression is both mesmerizing and intimidating, a perfect blend of regal confidence and an untouchable allure. Her armor is a masterpiece of craftsmanship, forged from blackened steel and adorned with glowing crimson gemstones. A high-collared chest plate with intricate gothic engravings accentuates her form, while spiked pauldrons and claw-like gauntlets add a sense of menace. The helm she wears complements her armor seamlessly, but its design leaves her face exposed, allowing her haunting beauty to captivate all who gaze upon her. Spiked ridges and fine engravings mark the helm, while a flowing veil cascades down its back, adding an ethereal touch to her commanding silhouette. She strikes a commanding pose: one gauntleted hand grips the hilt of a dark steel longsword, its blade etched with arcane glyphs that shimmer faintly in the flickering torchlight. Her other hand is raised in a gesture of power, fingers curved as though summoning ancient energies from the very stones around her. The dark crimson cape flowing behind her is embroidered with cryptic runes that seem to writhe as shadows dance across its surface. The crypt itself amplifies her presence—a desolate domain of crumbling stone walls and ancient sarcophagi, with shadows that twist and writhe unnaturally. The air is thick with the scent of decay and the weight of centuries, broken only by the flicker of dying candlelight. She stands as both ruler and guardian of this eerie realm, her visible face a haunting focal point in an already unforgettable scene.

8 months ago

In the heart of a shadowed crypt, a majestic vampiress stands as the embodiment of dark power and timeless elegance. Her long, flowing black hair frames her strikingly beautiful face, which remains bare and uncovered, revealing her flawless, porcelain-like complexion. Her piercing red eyes glow faintly, exuding an air of mystery and command. Her expression is both mesmerizing and intimidating, a perfect blend of regal confidence and an untouchable allure. Her armor is a masterpiece of craftsmanship, forged from blackened steel and adorned with glowing crimson gemstones. A high-collared chest plate with intricate gothic engravings accentuates her form, while spiked pauldrons and claw-like gauntlets add a sense of menace. The helm she wears complements her armor seamlessly, but its design leaves her face exposed, allowing her haunting beauty to captivate all who gaze upon her. Spiked ridges and fine engravings mark the helm, while a flowing veil cascades down its back, adding an ethereal touch to her commanding silhouette. She strikes a commanding pose: one gauntleted hand grips the hilt of a dark steel longsword, its blade etched with arcane glyphs that shimmer faintly in the flickering torchlight. Her other hand is raised in a gesture of power, fingers curved as though summoning ancient energies from the very stones around her. The dark crimson cape flowing behind her is embroidered with cryptic runes that seem to writhe as shadows dance across its surface. The crypt itself amplifies her presence—a desolate domain of crumbling stone walls and ancient sarcophagi, with shadows that twist and writhe unnaturally. The air is thick with the scent of decay and the weight of centuries, broken only by the flicker of dying candlelight. She stands as both ruler and guardian of this eerie realm, her visible face a haunting focal point in an already unforgettable scene.