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C9I

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C9I

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dark horror close-up, from behind, over-the-shoulder composition, cracked mirror, reflection as melting monstrosity, rotting sloughing flesh, countless screaming mouths, hollow black eyes, clawed hands reaching out of mirror, hands gripping figure's throat, human figure clutching throat with both raised hands, head bowed toward mirror, plain tattered clothes in muted grey tones, blurred background, distorted bloated insectoid humanoid creatures, tattered clothes on background creatures, creatures going about daily lives unaware, gothic surrealism, chiaroscuro, deep blacks, sickly desaturated flesh tones, charcoal grain, dense ink cross-hatching, gritty tactile texture, smeared distorted forms, visceral disgust, self-loathing, dread, vertical composition, ar 2:3 Seen from behind and slightly over the figure's shoulder, a gaunt human figure in plain tattered everyday clothes stands hunched before a tall, badly cracked mirror, the fracture lines splintering across the glass and slicing the reflection into jagged shards. The figure's head is bowed toward the glass, both hands raised reflexively toward its own throat, fingers curling in mid-air as something else gets there first. In the mirror, the reflection is not the person: it is a melting monstrosity of rotting, sloughing flesh, its surface studded with countless small screaming mouths gaping at every angle, jaws mid-wail, and hollow black eye sockets with no depth and no light inside. Two long, clawed hands push out through the mirror surface -- the glass warping and rippling around the wrists like thick liquid -- and grip the figure's throat from behind, talons dimpling the skin, the mirror edge crushing against knuckles at the point of contact. The figure's fingers close over the creature's claws, gripping them uselessly, a contact of flesh on flesh that should be impossible. Behind, thrown far out of focus in the deep murky background, other figures go about their daily lives completely unaware: bloated, insectoid humanoids in tattered clothes, one chitin-segmented shape carrying grocery bags down a warped corridor, another hunched many-limbed form leaning over a counter, segmented bodies and twitching antennae softened by the blur so that only the mundane gestures read clearly. None of them turns around. The scene is lit by a single weak overhead source -- a bare bulb somewhere above the mirror -- casting hard chiaroscuro: the light rakes down the figure's bowed back and collar, while the reflection catches almost none of it, its black eyes and screaming mouths drinking the light, its rotting flesh rendered in sickly desaturated greys and bruised ochres against absolute black shadows pooling at the mirror's base. Charcoal grain and dense ink cross-hatching roughen every surface; the melting flesh smears and drips downward along the hatching lines, the deepest black held for the hollow sockets and the throat grip. Palette: ash grey, black, jaundiced flesh, nothing else admitted. Physical telltale: fine glass dust and shards fall from the cracks, catching the bulb's thin light as they pass through it before vanishing into the dark below. Mood: visceral disgust and self-loathing, quiet dread.
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Original Prompt
Dark art horror close-up of psychological misanthropy. A human figure looking into a cracked mirror, but the reflection is a horrifying, melting monstrosity made of rotting flesh, countless screaming mouths, and hollow black eyes. The reflection's clawed hands are reaching out of the mirror to grab the person by the throat. In the blurred background, other humans are depicted as distorted, bloated, insectoid creatures wearing tattered clothes, going about their daily lives completely unaware of their monstrous nature. Pure visceral disgust and self-loathing. Gothic surrealism, hyperdetailed charcoal and ink texture, chiaroscuro, by Francis Bacon and Zdzisล‚aw Beksiล„ski, masterpiece, 8K --ar 2:3 --v 6
Mode
pro
Size
1408 x 1408
Negative
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit
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Model & LoRA used

Tsubaki.3 - AI Model cover image

PixAI DiT.3

Tsubaki.3
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Avatar image of C9I
dark horror close-up, from behind, over-the-shoulder composition, cracked mirror, reflection as melting monstrosity, rotting sloughing flesh, countless screaming mouths, hollow black eyes, clawed hands reaching out of mirror, hands gripping figure's throat, human figure clutching throat with both raised hands, head bowed toward mirror, plain tattered clothes in muted grey tones, blurred background, distorted bloated insectoid humanoid creatures, tattered clothes on background creatures, creatures going about daily lives unaware, gothic surrealism, chiaroscuro, deep blacks, sickly desaturated flesh tones, charcoal grain, dense ink cross-hatching, gritty tactile texture, smeared distorted forms, visceral disgust, self-loathing, dread, vertical composition, ar 2:3 Seen from behind and slightly over the figure's shoulder, a gaunt human figure in plain tattered everyday clothes stands hunched before a tall, badly cracked mirror, the fracture lines splintering across the glass and slicing the reflection into jagged shards. The figure's head is bowed toward the glass, both hands raised reflexively toward its own throat, fingers curling in mid-air as something else gets there first. In the mirror, the reflection is not the person: it is a melting monstrosity of rotting, sloughing flesh, its surface studded with countless small screaming mouths gaping at every angle, jaws mid-wail, and hollow black eye sockets with no depth and no light inside. Two long, clawed hands push out through the mirror surface -- the glass warping and rippling around the wrists like thick liquid -- and grip the figure's throat from behind, talons dimpling the skin, the mirror edge crushing against knuckles at the point of contact. The figure's fingers close over the creature's claws, gripping them uselessly, a contact of flesh on flesh that should be impossible. Behind, thrown far out of focus in the deep murky background, other figures go about their daily lives completely unaware: bloated, insectoid humanoids in tattered clothes, one chitin-segmented shape carrying grocery bags down a warped corridor, another hunched many-limbed form leaning over a counter, segmented bodies and twitching antennae softened by the blur so that only the mundane gestures read clearly. None of them turns around. The scene is lit by a single weak overhead source -- a bare bulb somewhere above the mirror -- casting hard chiaroscuro: the light rakes down the figure's bowed back and collar, while the reflection catches almost none of it, its black eyes and screaming mouths drinking the light, its rotting flesh rendered in sickly desaturated greys and bruised ochres against absolute black shadows pooling at the mirror's base. Charcoal grain and dense ink cross-hatching roughen every surface; the melting flesh smears and drips downward along the hatching lines, the deepest black held for the hollow sockets and the throat grip. Palette: ash grey, black, jaundiced flesh, nothing else admitted. Physical telltale: fine glass dust and shards fall from the cracks, catching the bulb's thin light as they pass through it before vanishing into the dark below. Mood: visceral disgust and self-loathing, quiet dread.
C9I
AI artwork
Avatar image of C9I
dark horror close-up, from behind, over-the-shoulder composition, cracked mirror, reflection as melting monstrosity, rotting sloughing flesh, countless screaming mouths, hollow black eyes, clawed hands reaching out of mirror, hands gripping figure's throat, human figure clutching throat with both raised hands, head bowed toward mirror, plain tattered clothes in muted grey tones, blurred background, distorted bloated insectoid humanoid creatures, tattered clothes on background creatures, creatures going about daily lives unaware, gothic surrealism, chiaroscuro, deep blacks, sickly desaturated flesh tones, charcoal grain, dense ink cross-hatching, gritty tactile texture, smeared distorted forms, visceral disgust, self-loathing, dread, vertical composition, ar 2:3 Seen from behind and slightly over the figure's shoulder, a gaunt human figure in plain tattered everyday clothes stands hunched before a tall, badly cracked mirror, the fracture lines splintering across the glass and slicing the reflection into jagged shards. The figure's head is bowed toward the glass, both hands raised reflexively toward its own throat, fingers curling in mid-air as something else gets there first. In the mirror, the reflection is not the person: it is a melting monstrosity of rotting, sloughing flesh, its surface studded with countless small screaming mouths gaping at every angle, jaws mid-wail, and hollow black eye sockets with no depth and no light inside. Two long, clawed hands push out through the mirror surface -- the glass warping and rippling around the wrists like thick liquid -- and grip the figure's throat from behind, talons dimpling the skin, the mirror edge crushing against knuckles at the point of contact. The figure's fingers close over the creature's claws, gripping them uselessly, a contact of flesh on flesh that should be impossible. Behind, thrown far out of focus in the deep murky background, other figures go about their daily lives completely unaware: bloated, insectoid humanoids in tattered clothes, one chitin-segmented shape carrying grocery bags down a warped corridor, another hunched many-limbed form leaning over a counter, segmented bodies and twitching antennae softened by the blur so that only the mundane gestures read clearly. None of them turns around. The scene is lit by a single weak overhead source -- a bare bulb somewhere above the mirror -- casting hard chiaroscuro: the light rakes down the figure's bowed back and collar, while the reflection catches almost none of it, its black eyes and screaming mouths drinking the light, its rotting flesh rendered in sickly desaturated greys and bruised ochres against absolute black shadows pooling at the mirror's base. Charcoal grain and dense ink cross-hatching roughen every surface; the melting flesh smears and drips downward along the hatching lines, the deepest black held for the hollow sockets and the throat grip. Palette: ash grey, black, jaundiced flesh, nothing else admitted. Physical telltale: fine glass dust and shards fall from the cracks, catching the bulb's thin light as they pass through it before vanishing into the dark below. Mood: visceral disgust and self-loathing, quiet dread.
C9I
AI artwork
Avatar image of C9I
dark horror close-up, from behind, over-the-shoulder composition, cracked mirror, reflection as melting monstrosity, rotting sloughing flesh, countless screaming mouths, hollow black eyes, clawed hands reaching out of mirror, hands gripping figure's throat, human figure clutching throat with both raised hands, head bowed toward mirror, plain tattered clothes in muted grey tones, blurred background, distorted bloated insectoid humanoid creatures, tattered clothes on background creatures, creatures going about daily lives unaware, gothic surrealism, chiaroscuro, deep blacks, sickly desaturated flesh tones, charcoal grain, dense ink cross-hatching, gritty tactile texture, smeared distorted forms, visceral disgust, self-loathing, dread, vertical composition, ar 2:3 Seen from behind and slightly over the figure's shoulder, a gaunt human figure in plain tattered everyday clothes stands hunched before a tall, badly cracked mirror, the fracture lines splintering across the glass and slicing the reflection into jagged shards. The figure's head is bowed toward the glass, both hands raised reflexively toward its own throat, fingers curling in mid-air as something else gets there first. In the mirror, the reflection is not the person: it is a melting monstrosity of rotting, sloughing flesh, its surface studded with countless small screaming mouths gaping at every angle, jaws mid-wail, and hollow black eye sockets with no depth and no light inside. Two long, clawed hands push out through the mirror surface -- the glass warping and rippling around the wrists like thick liquid -- and grip the figure's throat from behind, talons dimpling the skin, the mirror edge crushing against knuckles at the point of contact. The figure's fingers close over the creature's claws, gripping them uselessly, a contact of flesh on flesh that should be impossible. Behind, thrown far out of focus in the deep murky background, other figures go about their daily lives completely unaware: bloated, insectoid humanoids in tattered clothes, one chitin-segmented shape carrying grocery bags down a warped corridor, another hunched many-limbed form leaning over a counter, segmented bodies and twitching antennae softened by the blur so that only the mundane gestures read clearly. None of them turns around. The scene is lit by a single weak overhead source -- a bare bulb somewhere above the mirror -- casting hard chiaroscuro: the light rakes down the figure's bowed back and collar, while the reflection catches almost none of it, its black eyes and screaming mouths drinking the light, its rotting flesh rendered in sickly desaturated greys and bruised ochres against absolute black shadows pooling at the mirror's base. Charcoal grain and dense ink cross-hatching roughen every surface; the melting flesh smears and drips downward along the hatching lines, the deepest black held for the hollow sockets and the throat grip. Palette: ash grey, black, jaundiced flesh, nothing else admitted. Physical telltale: fine glass dust and shards fall from the cracks, catching the bulb's thin light as they pass through it before vanishing into the dark below. Mood: visceral disgust and self-loathing, quiet dread.
C9I

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