null their mouths sewn

    Hyperrealistic scarecrow standing alone in the middle of a barren, windswept field. The scarecrow’s body is a mix of tattered cloth and twisted metal, with long, spindly arms that seem unnaturally elongated. Its face, once a simple burlap sack, has contorted into a grotesque, human-like visage, with hollow, black eyes that glow faintly in the twilight. The mouth is sewn shut with thick, black thread, but the edges are frayed, as if it’s struggling to break free. The scarecrow’s head tilts slightly, as if listening to the whispers carried by the wind, and the crows perched on its shoulders are unnaturally still, their feathers ruffled and eyes gleaming with malice. The surrounding field is eerily quiet, the tall grass bending under an invisible weight, and the sky above is a deep, ominous gray, threatening to unleash a storm at any moment.
    A towering, gaunt figure stands in a desolate, fog-choked medieval graveyard, cloaked in tattered, bloodstained robes that drag across the dirt. Its face is hidden beneath a grotesque, elongated pestilence mask, the cracked leather stretched over an unnatural skull, with hollow, dead eyes peering out from deep within. The beak of the mask drips with a thick, black ichor, and the air around the figure reeks of decay and death. In its bony hand, it clutches a gnarled staff made of twisted human femurs, adorned with rotting, severed heads, their mouths sewn shut with barbed wire. As it moves through the fog, the ground withers beneath its feet, the grass turning to ash, while silent, skeletal ravens circle above, waiting to feast on the souls of the damned. Every breath it takes is a rattling gasp, like the dying wheeze of a thousand plague victims, and its presence draws the spirits of the dead from their graves, their skeletal hands clawing desperately at the earth. This figure seeks not salvation, but only the embrace of death, spreading pestilence wherever it roams, a living harbinger of rot and ruin.
    F@nt@sy CFH, A towering, gaunt figure stands in a desolate, fog-choked medieval graveyard, cloaked in tattered, bloodstained robes that drag across the dirt. Its face is hidden beneath a grotesque, elongated pestilence mask, the cracked leather stretched over an unnatural skull, with hollow, dead eyes peering out from deep within. The beak of the mask drips with a thick, black ichor, and the air around the figure reeks of decay and death. In its bony hand, it clutches a gnarled staff made of twisted human femurs, adorned with rotting, severed heads, their mouths sewn shut with barbed wire. As it moves through the fog, the ground withers beneath its feet, the grass turning to ash, while silent, skeletal ravens circle above, waiting to feast on the souls of the damned. Every breath it takes is a rattling gasp, like the dying wheeze of a thousand plague victims, and its presence draws the spirits of the dead from their graves, their skeletal hands clawing desperately at the earth. This figure seeks not salvation, but only the embrace of death, spreading pestilence wherever it roams, a living harbinger of rot and ruin.
    A highly detailed, artistic scene of a crumbling, infinite library where knowledge is forgotten. Towering bookshelves decay, their pages untouched and covered in dust. In the center, a massive figure sits on a throne of shattered books, blindfolded with newspapers, ears plugged with wax, and mouth sewn shut with red thread—symbolizing willful ignorance. Around it, faceless people wander aimlessly, their heads replaced with static-filled screens or hollow voids, burning books for light without realizing their mistake. Above, shattered mirrors reflect a distorted world of illusion. In the distance, a lone child with visible eyes reaches for a glowing open book, a fragile spark of hope in a world consumed by ignorance. aidmamj6.1, aidmaimageupgrader, aidmafluxpro1.1, bo-exposure
    [[ SpookyTober ]] ----- autumn motif reflected on a dark empty demonic eyeball with no iris, with the eyes nerve from behind, a malevolent spooky carved face glows from the eyeball pupil, giving the impression of hard contrast to the composition. large googly eyes with glossy neeon green-orange irises surrounded by dark pupils, giving it an expressive and creepy appearance . The eyeball appears to have a large mouth with ugly sharp teeth but part of the mouth is sewn. Some veins are visible on the eyeball making more creepy, Some corroded steel nails are incrusted on it as well and some of them are bent. The eyeball nerves work as legs but they are rooted to the ground as if it were a plant. Analog photo, cinematic, dark mood and dark ambient, found footage, photo from a real cult, 1920s photo, old VHS footage, old CCTV footage, collodion print, intense chiaroscuro contrast dark ambient horror style, , (unsettling photo:1.2), cursed_thing, cursedimages, no context, cursed image, bad photo, weird photo, very strange, color photo, creepy photo, (nightmare fuel)
    Ultra-detailed Face Closeup portrait of Count Dracula at the zenith of his monstrous glory—a sovereign of blood and shadows. His face is a masterpiece of predatory perfection: razor-sharp cheekbones cutting through the gloom, skin like polished alabaster stretched taut over immortal muscle. Twin hellfire eyes burn with the accumulated malice of six centuries, their crimson glow casting jagged reflections across his (blackened silver pauldrons:1.4). A crown of fused vertebrae and impaled saints rests upon his brow, each bone fragment whispering forgotten curses. His mouth is a wound of perfect violence—lips black as a hanged man's tongue part to reveal fangs that drip with a slow, deliberate venom. The air around him roils with (coagulated blood-mist:1.5), swirling in vortex patterns as if the very atmosphere kneels before him. His armored gorget is carved with scenes of massacres, the grooves packed with centuries-old ash. One gauntleted hand crushes a still-beating heart, its arteries dangling like puppet strings, while the other grips a flayed corpse's spine as a scepter. Behind him, a cathedral of writhing shadows arches upward—ribs of a long-dead god repurposed as his throne. (Screaming faces press outward from the walls:1.6), their mouths sewn shut with his hair. The floor is a mosaic of shattered holy symbols, each fragment grinding to dust beneath his boots. This isn’t a king—this is the reason graves have locks.
    A highly detailed, artistic scene of a crumbling, infinite library where knowledge is forgotten. Towering bookshelves decay, their pages untouched and covered in dust. In the center, a massive figure sits on a throne of shattered books, blindfolded with newspapers, ears plugged with wax, and mouth sewn shut with red thread—symbolizing willful ignorance. Around it, faceless people wander aimlessly, their heads replaced with static-filled screens or hollow voids, burning books for light without realizing their mistake. Above, shattered mirrors reflect a distorted world of illusion. In the distance, a lone child with visible eyes reaches for a glowing open book, a fragile spark of hope in a world consumed by ignorance. aidmamj6.1, aidmaimageupgrader, aidmafluxpro1.1, bo-exposure

      FLUX

    • Dev - flux_dev.safetensors