Sheshka (IO-IO Lab)

Spiral Ascent

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2240 (3.73 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: style like the example image: Ethereal minimalist surrealism. A delicate, almost calligraphic black ink drawing of an old, winding wooden staircase rising straight up into the sky, rendered with fine, sparse lines. The stairs are broken in places — railings missing, individual steps torn out, planks hanging loose — yet the structure continues upward without effort, unhurried, elegant. As it rises, the staircase gradually dissolves into cloud: the higher steps soften, fade, and merge into pale mist, until the last visible steps become indistinguishable from the sky itself. There is no ground below, no building above — only the staircase, climbing into nothing. Soft, dreamy gradient background of pastel peach, blush pink, and pale teal, blending seamlessly from bottom to top — no horizon line, sky and void merge into one endless gradient. Subtle watercolor washes, translucent layers, misty atmosphere, soft focus, elegant negative space. Faint cloud shapes suggested rather than painted, dissolving at the edges. A few thin, scattered ink marks near the top suggest distant birds or nothing at all. Tranquil, poetic, melancholic, zen, contemporary illustration, high-end fine art, 8K.
  • Using base image: Yes

I don't know what this is.

• Model: DaVinci2

• Size: 2496 X 3312 (8.27 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: A highly atmospheric, deeply melancholic mixed-media painting on an old, torn, worn canvas — raw, gessoed, damaged, with frayed edges and visible holes. Through every tear, a cold field of distant stars is visible — not painted, but seen through, as if the picture is a thin window into deep space. Bone palette merged with Soft Amber, Chalky Charcoal, Deep Slate Gray and Muted Indigo, with accents of Muted Turquoise and Pale Yellow. An old railway line runs from the horizon straight toward the viewer, rails and sleepers cracked, weathered, half-buried in wet gravel and autumn leaves. Far away, pale mountain silhouettes dissolve into mist, more memory than landscape. A single shaft of golden light breaks through the storm clouds at the vanishing point, casting a warm amber glow that struggles to pierce the surrounding indigo mist. Coming TOWARD the viewer along the tracks are three cheerful ragged figures — half-ghosts, half-men. They do not quite walk: they float, hovering a few inches above the sleepers, their bare feet never touching the wood. Their lower bodies fade into transparency, dissolving into mist and ink, so that the rails are faintly visible through them. All three are completely bald, with long grey beards that merge seamlessly into their torn, tattered, weather-beaten rags — no clear boundary between hair, beard and clothing; one substance becomes the other. The CENTER figure is the tallest and the most massive — a huge, broad-shouldered, powerfully built man, thick chest and strong heavy arms, not fat but built like an old blacksmith, with a wide joyful grin. On either side of him walk two lean, wiry figures, arms thin as sticks, faces creased by laughter. All three look happy, absurdly, impossibly happy — like old friends returning from somewhere no one else has been. The huge center figure carries an old kerosene lamp with a small golden flame — the only warm point in the entire scene. One of the lean ones is pointing up and to the left, delighted, at a secretary bird. The bird does NOT belong to the canvas: it is poking its head and long neck OUT of the largest vertical tear in the canvas, coming from BEHIND the surface, from the star side. It leans through the torn opening — hooked eagle beak, a crest of long black feathers rising from the back of its neck, stirred by the wind — and looks down at the three figures. The stars are visible around it, inside the tear, on its side of the canvas. Its body remains outside the painting; only the head and neck cross the threshold. Curious, watchful, alive. Autumn leaves fall gracefully around the tracks, caught mid-fall, some dissolving into ink before they touch the ground. Faint circular abstract motifs along the sleepers in muted hot pink, turquoise and pale yellow, giving a subtle gold foil effect. Distant horizon dissolves softly into creamy multi-layered washes. Fine vertical graphite scratches and delicate crackled glaze effects texture the entire paint surface. Heavy impasto, palette knife marks, turpentine drips, dry-brush smears, scraped areas where the old canvas shows through. Where the canvas is torn, the edges curl slightly outward, revealing the cold, silent starfield behind — sharp, hyperrealistic, infinite. 8K, ultra-detailed, hyperrealistic, darkly elegant, ethereal. Unfinished, abandoned, unresolved. The viewer should not be sure whether the three are dead and joyful, or alive and weightless — or whether they were ever there at all.
  • Using base image: No
  • Aspect Ratio: portrait

A bird with four legs

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2224 (3.70 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: The Silent Reverie of the Candlelit Haze. A highly atmospheric, deeply melancholic mixed-media painting on an old, torn, worn canvas — raw, gessoed, damaged, with frayed edges and visible holes. Through most tears, a cold field of distant stars is visible. Bone palette merged with Soft Amber, Chalky Charcoal, Deep Slate Gray and Muted Indigo, with accents of Muted Turquoise and Pale Yellow. An old railway line runs toward the horizon, rails and sleepers cracked, weathered, half-buried in wet gravel and autumn leaves. Far away, pale mountain silhouettes dissolve into mist. A single shaft of golden light breaks through the storm clouds at the vanishing point, casting a warm amber glow into the indigo mist. Walking along the sleepers toward the viewer are a bride and groom — half-transparent, half-ghosts, floating a few inches above the wood, their feet never touching it, dissolving into mist at the ankles. Their lower bodies fade into transparency, the rails faintly visible through them. She wears a torn wedding dress, yellowed lace trailing, veil shredded by wind. He wears an old black wedding suit, ripped at the shoulders, worn dark shoes barely visible in the mist. They walk arm in arm, calm, unhurried, joyless and joyful at once, eyes forward, faces softened by fog. Behind them follows a creature — a secretary bird, but with FOUR long thin legs instead of two. Each leg is elegant, bird-like, jointed, feathered at the thigh, ending in long talons. Above them rises the body of a secretary bird: upright, slender, with the head and hooked beak of an eagle and a crest of long black feathers rising from the back of its neck, stirred by the wind. It stands on four legs like an impossible heraldic beast, slow, watchful, patient. Its head is turned to the side, staring directly into the LARGEST vertical tear in the canvas. That tear shows NO stars. Through it, BEHIND the canvas, is the interior of an old locomotive cab — riveted iron walls, brass gauges, a small iron stove, tools on hooks. A kerosene lamp burns on a wooden table, its small golden flame the only warm point in the entire scene. At the table, seen through the tear as if through a window into another world, sits a thin, athletic, bald old man with a long white beard and steampunk glasses, hunched over a handwritten manuscript. He writes slowly. He does not look up. Autumn leaves fall around the tracks, some dissolving into ink before they touch the ground. Faint circular abstract motifs along the sleepers in muted hot pink, turquoise and pale yellow, giving a subtle gold foil effect. Distant horizon dissolves into creamy multi-layered washes. Fine vertical graphite scratches and crackled glaze texture the paint surface. Heavy impasto, palette knife marks, turpentine drips, dry-brush smears, scraped areas where the old canvas shows through. Torn edges curl slightly outward, revealing the cold starfield — sharp, hyperrealistic, infinite. 8K, ultra-detailed, hyperrealistic, darkly elegant, ethereal. Unfinished, abandoned, unresolved. The viewer should not be sure whether the couple walks toward the painter, or away from him — or whether he is painting them, or remembering them. Soul Line: Two ghosts marry on the rails, a four-legged bird reads the sky, and behind the canvas an old man writes them down — line by line, leaf by leaf
  • Using base image: No
  • Aspect Ratio: portrait

Surreal Railway Stop

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 2496 X 3312 (8.27 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: The Silent Signal of the Candlelit Haze. A highly atmospheric, deeply melancholic mixed-media painting on raw, gessoed canvas, blanketed in heavy, ethereal smoke fog. Far in the distance, dissolving mountain silhouettes, half-swallowed by mist, almost unreadable — more memory than landscape. An old railway line runs from the foreground straight toward the mountains, its rails and sleepers cracked, weathered, half-buried in wet gravel and autumn leaves. The line has no end — it simply dissolves into the storm. In the middle of the sleepers, planted directly between the rails, stands an old rusted metal sign: STOP. The word is carved, weathered, bleeding rust and black ink — the sharpest element in the image. It is not a warning. It is a fact. Perched on top of the sign, hunched and ruffled against the wind, sits a secretary bird — long thin legs, elegant upright body, but with the head and hooked beak of an eagle, fierce and watchful, and a crest of long black feathers rising from the back of its neck, stirred by the wind. It does not look at the sign. It looks at the viewer. Its dark feathers are beautifully softened by layers of misty condensation and chalky charcoal watercolor washes, yet remain hyperrealistically detailed — cracked, glossy, with faint turquoise and pale yellow highlights catching the pale light. Autumn leaves fall gracefully around the sign and the bird, caught mid-fall, some dissolving into ink before they touch the ground. Faint circular abstract motifs near the base of the sign and along the sleepers in muted hot pink, turquoise and pale yellow, giving a subtle gold foil effect. A single shaft of golden light breaks through the storm clouds directly above the bird, serving as a dreamy, diffuse light source, casting a warm amber glow that struggles to pierce the surrounding slate-gray and indigo mist. The distant mountains and the far end of the railway dissolve softly into a layer of creamy, multi-layered washes. Fine vertical graphite scratches and delicate crackled glaze effects texture the entire paint surface, casting a vintage, deeply introspective quality over the silent scene. A poetic palette of Soft Amber, Chalky Charcoal, Deep Slate Gray, Muted Indigo, with accents of Muted Turquoise and Pale Yellow. FineArt. No text, lettering, symbols, or watermarks. Ethereal, dramatic, hazy, distance out of focus. Beautiful pastels, vibrant character, beautiful highly detailed. 8K, ultra-detailed, hyperrealistic, darkly elegant, macabre, ethereal. Unfinished, abandoned, unresolved. The viewer should not be sure whether the bird is guarding the sign, waiting for someone, or about to step over it. Soul Line: Where the rails forget their destination, a feathered watcher keeps a stop that no one obeys, and the storm leans in to listen At the very top center of the composition, a single old iron nail is driven into the canvas. From it hangs a small weathered iron plaque on a short rusty chain, slightly tilted, half-dissolving into the paint texture. The plaque is small, dark, and reads as a maker's mark — an artisan's seal rather than a title. It never dominates the composition. Etched into the metal in gothic lettering: "IO-IO Lab".
  • Using base image: No
  • Aspect Ratio: portrait

EmmAI — thanks for the prompt. Sorry for what I did to it

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 2496 X 3312 (8.27 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Symphony of a blooming sanctuary. An ethereal, large-scale folk art, mixed media painting entirely dominated by the rough, expressive textures of a palette knife and the heavy, shaded grain of the canvas. In the center of the composition, a Gothic doll with a flawless porcelain face, rosy cheeks and piercing black eyes looks forward with a charming, dreamy gaze. Her brunette hair is pulled back into a loose, wispy updo, adorned with a gorgeous textured cluster of large flowers in hot pink, soft orange and crimson. She is wearing an elegant dress with a high collar, covered with a dense multi-colored pattern of large wildflowers, folded with a palette knife. She is surrounded by bizarre companions: a soft green goblin rests in the lower right corner, a wary gray ogre stands next to him, and a second ogre makes his way through the thicket in the far left corner. The entire backdrop is a lush, tapestry-like meadow filled with stylized wildflowers, Queen Anne's lace and fluttering dark butterflies against a soft backdrop of pastel pink, pale mint green and warm ochre. Texture includes heavy gesso applications, vertical paint drag, and fine charcoal scratches. FineArt. EmmAI Fragile vision. No text, inscriptions, symbols or watermarks.
  • Using base image: No
  • Aspect Ratio: portrait

Gaze Into The Cosmic Mist

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 2496 X 3312 (8.27 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Blend these two images—combining both their styles and compositions—but aim for a result that is beautiful and meaningful.
  • Using base image: Yes

For a Walk

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 2480 X 3328 (8.25 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Add depth and volume to the water in the lower part of the image. Make the water look deep and transparent — dark underwater depths, visible volume beneath the surface, subtle ripples, realistic reflections, soft light fading into darkness. Keep the composition and style unchanged. Hyperrealistic, 8K, cinematic.
  • Using base image: Yes

Return

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2224 (3.70 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Subject: A lean, athletic seventy-year-old man, seen entirely from behind, standing on a narrow rocky shore at the very edge of black still water. He is completely bald with a long grey beard, no mustache, a weathered athletic build, sinewy arms and neck, skin like old leather. He wears steampunk glasses (seen only from the side), a dirty torn T-shirt, old ragged pants, worn leather boots. In his right hand hangs an old kerosene lamp — the only warm glow on the shore, a small golden flame. He has ALREADY taken one step forward: his left foot is placed on the first step of the reflected staircase — but the staircase does not exist above water. It exists ONLY in the reflection. His left foot rests on a wet, dark, cracked wooden step that is visible through the surface of the black water, half-submerged. Behind him, nothing — just mist and a few torn autumn leaves. In the black water below, the reflection shows a long wooden winding staircase climbing upward — broken, without railings in places, individual steps torn out, planks hanging loose, splinters visible. As the reflected staircase rises, it gradually stops being architecture: the higher steps twist and darken, the wood grain becomes bark, the banisters become branches, and at the top of the reflection the staircase has become a single black, crooked, wind-twisted dried tree — gnarled, bare, motionless. There is no clear boundary between staircase and tree; one becomes the other. The reflection is cold, black and colourless — no gold, no warm accents. Far above, dissolving into a stormy bone-white sky, a faint silhouette of a gothic castle can barely be seen, half-swallowed by mist — almost invisible, more a memory than a building. One vivid accent in the whole image: the golden flame of the kerosene lamp in the man's hand — small, warm, alive, the ONLY warm point in the entire scene. Everything else in the bone palette: off-whites, creams, pale pinks, deep black, ash grey. The sky is heavy with storm clouds, autumn leaves tearing sideways in the wind. Atmosphere: silent, sacred, terrible, absurd, unresolved. Heavy impasto, palette knife marks, turpentine drips, dry-brush smears, scraped areas where canvas shows through. Architecturally and anatomically correct. 8K, ultra-detailed, hyperrealistic, darkly elegant, macabre. Unfinished, abandoned, unresolved. The viewer should not be sure whether the man is stepping INTO the reflection or OUT of it, whether he is crossing a threshold or returning from one. Composition preserved from the original sketch.
  • Using base image: No
  • Aspect Ratio: portrait

Melancholy

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2224 (3.70 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Mix two visual languages equally. 50% from image 2 (monochrome grunge ink, misty dissolution, wet-on-wet bleeding, forms readable only as vertical smears, one muted warm accent). 50% from image 3 (Gothic hyperrealism, bone palette of off-whites, creams and pale pinks, cracked aged textures, ornate gold details, integrated symbolic objects, one vivid accent, hyperdetailed rendering). Do not copy the subjects of either reference — only their visual DNA. The result should feel like a hyperrealistic gothic painting that is simultaneously dissolving into ink — precision and blur fighting each other in the same image. Subject: Keep the composition of image 1: a young woman seen entirely from behind, sitting in tall grass near a stream, long hair flowing down, wearing an elaborate dress with long lace train. Ahead of her stands a large Victorian house with a steep roof, dark windows, and a small porch — but the house is no longer welcoming. It is weathered, cracked, half-dissolving into ink and mist. The paint must behave physically: heavy impasto, palette knife marks, turpentine drips, dry-brush smears, scraped areas where canvas shows through. The dress is the sharpest, most hyperrealistic element — cracked porcelain-white lace, fine bone texture, thin gold threads woven into the hem, visible every stitch. Her hair is the second sharp element — long, fine, hyperdetailed. Everything else dissolves. The trees are no longer green — they are pale bone trunks with bare skeletal branches, smeared into ash grey vertical strokes. The stream is no longer a stream — it is a black mirror, perfectly still, reflecting nothing recognizable, just darkness and faint golden ripples. The sky has no warm golden sunset — it is a pale, washed bone-white sky with faint ink stains, and thick mist rolling low. The sun is gone. Everything in the bone palette: off-whites, creams, pale pinks, ash grey, deep black. One vivid accent in the whole image: a single golden glow in ONE window of the Victorian house — a cold, impossible light, as if the house is occupied by something that should not be there. Atmosphere: silent, sacred, terrible, absurd, unresolved. Hyperrealistic, 8K, ultra-detailed, darkly elegant, macabre. Unfinished, abandoned, unresolved. The viewer should not be sure whether the woman is coming home or saying goodbye. Composition preserved from the original image
  • Using base image: Yes

HOW PARTISANS LEFT FOR THE ROAD?

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2224 (3.70 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Use the atmospheric dissolution and misty language of the attached image (image 2) — do not copy its subject. Now overlay STYLE2: Gothic hyperrealism with bone palette, muted off-whites, creams and pale pinks contrasted with deep black and one vivid accent, integrated symbolic objects, ornate gold details, cracked aged textures, soft dramatic lighting emphasizing contours, hyperrealistic, 8K, ultra-detailed, darkly elegant, macabre. Subject: A young woman seen entirely from behind, standing at the very edge of a cliff. Her long hair and long skirt are torn sideways by the wind, frozen mid-motion. Before her — a broken stone bridge, its middle collapsed into the void, only jagged stumps of masonry remaining on both sides. On the far side of the chasm, at the foot of a green hill, stands a small medieval house with a steep roof and lit windows, almost unreachable, surrounded by autumn trees. Autumn storm clouds roll low over the valley, driving fallen leaves in spirals. The bridge is ancient, cracked, covered in moss and rust. Everything is in the muted bone palette of STYLE2 — off-whites, creams, pale pinks, deep black shadows — with ONE vivid accent: a single red rowan berry in her open palm, the only color in the entire image. In the sky, faint and barely readable, carved into the storm clouds like cracks: the Belarusian words "як выходзілі ў шлях партызаны?". No faces visible — she is turned away. Unfinished, unresolved. The viewer should not be sure whether she is about to cross or to turn back. Composition preserved from the original sketch.**
  • Using base image: Yes

Boar Riders: Apocalyptic Charge

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2224 (3.70 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Use the style, palette, and texture of the attached image (image 2) — monochrome grunge ink, misty atmosphere, weathered textures, desaturated greys, one muted warm accent. Do not copy its subject, only its visual language. Layer in the atmospheric dissolution of Whistler's Nocturnes and late Turner — the scene is primarily light and smoke, not objects. Subject for image 1: Winter of 1918, somewhere on the Polish border. Three exhausted soldiers in worn Red Army greatcoats and budyonnovkas ride on the back of an impossibly huge, monstrous wild boar — a beast the size of a tank, with thick mud-caked bristles, a scarred snout, and small burning eyes. The boar moves forward with slow, unstoppable weight, and the barbed wire of the border fence tears apart beneath it — not cut, not blown up, but simply crushed by sheer mass. Coils of wire snap and fly, tangling around its legs. The soldiers cling to the bristles and each other, not riding but holding on, faces hidden in shadow, bodies dissolving into vertical smears of grey and black. A crooked wooden Polish border post leans and falls in the background, barely readable through the fog. Snow, mud, dead grass, frozen puddles. The subject is not the soldiers or the boar, but the weight — the terrible, absurd weight of history moving forward. The figures dissolve into abstraction, readable only as vertical smears and dark masses — broken brushwork, dabs, hatched strokes, wet-on-wet bleeding. The boar is the only massive, readable form, rendered with heavy impasto and palette knife, its body like a mountain of mud and muscle. The barbed wire is sharp and terrible — the only crisp element in the entire image. Atmosphere: absurd, tragic, wild, silent, unstoppable. Heavy impasto, palette knife marks, turpentine drips, dry-brush smears, scraped areas where canvas shows through. Monochrome: lead white, ash grey, burnt sienna, coal black, dirty snow. One vivid accent: the crimson red star on one soldier's budyonnovka, or a crimson glint on the torn barbed wire — pick one, keep it small, keep it almost lost. 40% of the image remains as underdrawing. Unfinished, abandoned, unresolved. The viewer should not be sure whether this is a heroic advance or a ridiculous disaster. Composition preserved from the original sketch.**
  • Using base image: Yes

Gothic Mirror Reflection

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2224 (3.70 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Dark surrealism, ink and watercolor wash on heavily soaked paper, style of Jeremy Mann and Endre Penovác. A blurred interior of an old train compartment, outside the window — a tar-like, pitch-black void. In the foreground, a delicate young woman's hand holds an ambiguous object: it is unclear whether it is a small pocket mirror or a vast open folio with an illustration. Inside its surface, instead of a face, a black swamp is reflected — with toad-like creatures (zhabalaki) crawling in the mud, and a mutating winged monster desperately trying to take flight. The scene is heavily blurred with a wet-on-wet watercolor wash, as if the drawing is almost washed away by water and dark dreams, with chaotic ink blots and splatters. The image is nearly monochrome (deep charcoals, cold greys, milky whites), but pierced by sharp, vibrant accents of deep gold (a faint glow from the swamp) and crimson red (a spark of life in the monster's wings). Certain gritty, sharp details remain completely untouched by the water: the delicate fingers of the hand, the ornate edge of the mirror/folio, the wet glint of the swamp creatures, the jagged silhouette of the winged monster, and the cold glass of the train window. Grunge, cinematic chiaroscuro, surreal mystery, poetic horror, raw texture, ambiguous reflection, slow motion of a dream.
  • Using base image: No
  • Aspect Ratio: portrait

Gothic Entity from the Mirror

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2224 (3.70 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: This is the prompt for the attached image. Create an image in the same style, but featuring only the painting itself—perhaps slightly brighter: "Dark surrealism, ink and watercolor wash on heavily soaked paper, style of Jeremy Mann and Endre Penovác. A blurred interior of an old train compartment, outside the window — a tar-like, pitch-black void. In the foreground, a delicate young woman's hand holds an ambiguous object: it is unclear whether it is a small pocket mirror or a vast open folio with an illustration. Inside its surface, instead of a face, a black swamp is reflected — with toad-like creatures (zhabalaki) crawling in the mud, and a mutating winged monster desperately trying to take flight. The scene is heavily blurred with a wet-on-wet watercolor wash, as if the drawing is almost washed away by water and dark dreams, with chaotic ink blots and splatters. The image is nearly monochrome (deep charcoals, cold greys, milky whites), but pierced by sharp, vibrant accents of deep gold (a faint glow from the swamp) and crimson red (a spark of life in the monster's wings). Certain gritty, sharp details remain completely untouched by the water: the delicate fingers of the hand, the ornate edge of the mirror/folio, the wet glint of the swamp creatures, the jagged silhouette of the winged monster, and the cold glass of the train window. Grunge, cinematic chiaroscuro, surreal mystery, poetic horror, raw texture, ambiguous reflection, slow motion of a dream."
  • Using base image: Yes

Ethereal Solitude

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2224 (3.70 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Use the style, palette, and texture of the attached image (image 1) — monochrome grunge ink, misty atmosphere, rusted textures, desaturated greys, one muted accent color. Do not copy its subject, only its visual language. Subject for image 2: A remote wooden cabin lost in a dense foggy forest, quarter of a century of solitude. From the crooked chimney, perfect smoke rings rise slowly into the grey sky — thin, impossible, deliberate. In front of the cabin stands a solitary man in worn work clothes, holding a sledgehammer or a crowbar, not yet swinging — just standing, looking at the stove he built. The smoke rings are the only vivid element: pale gold against monochrome forest. No other people, no village, no roads. The cabin is rough, handmade, beautiful. The forest around it dissolves into mist. Fallen leaves on the ground, wet earth, long shadows at dawn. Atmosphere: quiet, absurd, proud, spiteful, deeply solitary. Unfinished, unresolved. The viewer should not be sure whether the man is about to destroy the stove or just admire it.
  • Using base image: Yes

Beyond the Gates of Neglect

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2224 (3.70 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: An abandoned, rusty portal half-submerged in a misty swamp; nearby, a cloaked figure facing a dark forest. Execute this in the style of the attached image.
  • Using base image: Yes

Path from Oblivion

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2224 (3.70 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Dark fantasy illustration, grunge ink style. An ancient circular gate in a misty swamp. The word "NEGLECT" is carved in an arched semi-circle along the top rim of the gate, weathered engraved stone lettering. Monochromatic, gothic atmosphere. Preserve the original composition exactly. Do not change the figure, the forest, or the water.
  • Using base image: Yes

Swamp Dragon's Ancient Journey

• Model: DaVinci2

• Size: 1120 X 1688 (1.89 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Dark fantasy masterpiece, cinematic polish, hyper-detailed. A massive ancient dragon with wet, intricate moss-covered scales, resembling a decayed antique submarine with tattered sails, rests submerged in a murky, fog-shrouded swamp. A lone cloaked figure stands on its back, gazing into the distance. Ominous bioluminescent glow from the dragon's eyes. Gnarled silhouettes of ancient trees in heavy, volumetric mist. Melancholic, hauntingly beautiful atmosphere. Chiaroscuro, wet specular highlights on the scales, sharp focus on the figure and dragon, deep moody lighting. High-end digital painting, concept art.
  • Using base image: Yes

1935

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2256 (3.75 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: take the plot from the first image, and the style from the second
  • Using base image: Yes

2035

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1664 X 2256 (3.75 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: take the plot from the second image, and the style from the first
  • Using base image: Yes

Ethereal Dance in a Gloomy Victorian Street

• Model: ChatGPT 2 (Pro)

• Size: 1920 X 1920 (3.69 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: A girl is running and dancing down a small town street. Take the first image for style and composition, and the girl from the second. Try to create a masterpiece.
  • Using base image: Yes