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

half in shadow FLUX prompts

hundreds of results

8 months ago

Ultra-detailed half body portrait of a desert-hardened woman in her mid 20s, sun-weathered skin with natural freckles across her cheeks and blemishes over her body, keen hazel eyes adapted to scanning distant horizons, dark hair wrapped in a practical sand-colored shemagh that protects her neck and lower face, wearing layered desert survival gear - a loose fitting crop top underneath a weathered open tactical vest, revealing a flat, toned belly with defed abs, outie belly button. She wears loose low rise pants and a belt with multiple water container attachments, UV-protective goggles pushed up on her forehead, standing amid the ruins of a massive oil refinery complex half-buried by endless dunes of golden sand, towering rusted distillation columns rising like ancient monoliths from the desert floor, heat waves visibly distorting the air around corroded pipeline networks that snake through the dunes, scattered remnants of industrial machinery emerging from shifting sands - partially buried pressure vessels, sand-scoured storage tanks, and wind-polished metal structures, intense sunlight casting harsh shadows across her face through gaps in the deteriorating industrial framework, sand particles catching the light as they drift through the air, multiple layers of desert-industrial decay visible in the background - collapsed cooling towers creating artificial canyons, sand-filled processing units, and sun-bleached warning signs barely visible under layers of dust, abandoned vehicles half-submerged in sand drifts, occasional glints of metal where the wind has exposed buried equipment, photorealistic rendering with attention to material interactions between sand and metal - wind-polished surfaces, sand-carved patterns in steel, and sun-damaged materials, 8k resolution emphasizing the texture of each weather-beaten surface, technical perspective showing the massive scale of the industrial remains against the endless desert horizon, visible heat distortion in the distance where sky meets sand, subtle color variations in the sand showing mineral content and age of dune

AkiraS
11 570

7 months ago

Abstract Full-Body Portrait of a Prostitute – Salvador Dalí (Late-Life Style, Singular Focus & Pure Surrealism) (Surrealism:1.7, Salvador Dalí late-life style:2.0, Dreamlike distortion:1.6, Hyperreal textures:1.5, Chiaroscuro contrast:1.4, Oil-painting brushstrokes:1.5, Organic fluidity:1.6, Metaphysical realism:1.4) A full-body surrealist portrait of a prostitute, painted in the unmistakable late-life style of Salvador Dalí, where dream logic dictates form and reality bends into its own subconscious reflection. She stands alone in the void, a lone figure frozen in motion yet melting into time itself. Her body is elongated but coherent, her limbs refined into one singular, fluid, organic motion, as if she is a sculpture made of half-formed candle wax, melting at the edges but never fully dissolving. Her face remains untouched by distortion, hyperreal and melancholic, eyes darkened with kohl, staring directly outward, unblinking, as if confronting time, fate, and the fabric of reality itself. A single strand of jet-black hair escapes from her carefully pinned curls, swaying in an invisible breeze. Her lips—painted a deep, blood-red—drip slightly at the edges, as if smeared by unseen hands, caught between seduction and sorrow. Her dress, a relic of the past, is a contradiction of luxury and decay, the hem transforming into thin wisps of smoke, curling and dispersing into the canvas. The fabric is stretched unnaturally, its folds elongating like the melted forms of Dalí’s classic clocks, one shoulder slipping in an eternal descent, never quite falling. The setting is an infinite, surreal landscape—a lonely street with no visible end, where shadows stretch longer than their owners, and the cobblestones appear to melt into liquid mercury. In the background, a large, antique pocket watch, twisted and partially submerged in the air, hangs frozen at an uncertain hour, its hands warped into elongated spirals. A single red rose, impossibly large and impossibly alive, hovers just behind her, its petals peeling away like fragments of forgotten love letters. The air feels thick, painted with visible brushstrokes, where light and shadow do not obey the laws of physics—instead, they bleed into one another, wrapping around her body in soft, liquid chiaroscuro, mimicking the curvature of a dream. She is not merely a woman but a symbol—of desire, of loss, of something slipping through time like sand through Dalí’s own fingers.

ElectricL
8 330

8 months ago

Ultra-detailed half body portrait of a 24 year woman, bearing a prominent facial scar that cuts across her left cheek - a mark of survival in countless street fights, cold calculating eyes that hold both cunning and cruelty, angular features hardened by years of combat, short black hair styled practically with an undercut to prevent opponents from gaining advantage, wearing an expensive business jacket, open showing a heavily cropped business shirt, which barely covers her breasts, showing her flat toned belly with defined sixpack abs, standing in a luxurious penthouse office overlooking a brutalist cityscape of imposing concrete and steel structures, the window behind her showcasing the stark wealth divide - opulent high-rises crowned with neon-lit fighting arenas adjacent to crumbling tenements where the weak struggle to survive, private security forces visible patrolling elevated walkways, smoke rising from illegal fighting pits in the lower levels, multiple layers of corrupt authority visible through the glass - private military contractors guarding corporate territories, street gangs marking their domains with holographic tags, expensive hover-vehicles carrying crime lords between their territories, harsh artificial lighting from corporate logos casting blood-red shadows across her face, reflective surfaces showing both luxury and defensive capabilities - bulletproof windows and concealed weapon systems, photorealistic rendering in ultra-high detail capturing both the sleek modern technology and the underlying violence of society, 8k resolution with emphasis on material contrasts between expensive synthetics and crude street-level modifications, detailed attention to status symbols of power - augmented strength visible in subtle cybernetic enhancement scars at her wrists, trophy rings from defeated opponents adorning her fingers, a championship fighter's medallion worn as a subtle threat display, environmental storytelling showing the mechanics of power - security checkpoints, combat betting stations, and medical repair facilities for the wealthy fighters who can afford them

AkiraS
8 400

2 months ago

(A hyper-realistic, masterpiece-level color photograph:1.3) of a woman in a Soviet-style retrofuturistic spacesuit (Soviet retrofuturism:1.5) standing in the icy expanse of the Arctic during a fierce blizzard (blizzard in the Arctic:1.4). The woman’s suit, weathered and bulky, bears the clear red insignia of CCCP across the chest (CCCP insignia:1.5), adding to the harsh, militaristic aesthetic of the scene. The spacesuit has a Cold War-era design, with bold red accents and a heavy, utilitarian build, blending the futuristic with the gritty, industrial style of the Soviet Union. Surrounding her, several small, glowing stars float tethered by thick industrial chains (tethered glowing stars in a blizzard:1.4). These stars cut through the blizzard, casting yellow light that glows eerily against the swirling snow. The stars, connected to the icy ground by chains, sway violently in the wind, their light creating dynamic volumetric beams as they fight against the storm. The woman’s helmet visor reflects the glowing stars and the chaos of the blizzard around her, casting intricate patterns of light across her suit, which is half-covered in snow and ice. The volumetric lighting from the stars pierces the thick snowstorm, illuminating the drifting snowflakes and casting long, dramatic shadows across the snowy landscape. The environment is harsh and unforgiving—her spacesuit is covered in frost, and the cold, biting wind whips at her, while snow drifts build up around her legs. The blizzard creates an intense sense of motion, with the snow swirling around in unpredictable patterns, making it feel as though the woman is standing in the heart of a Soviet Arctic research mission gone wrong. Amidst the storm, the CCCP insignia glows faintly under the light of the stars, a symbol of the lost Soviet expedition. The glowing stars and industrial chains are tethered to the icy ground, creating a surreal, otherworldly scene in the middle of this brutal landscape. The scene is a combination of retrofuturistic design and gritty realism, with the harshness of the blizzard contrasting against the surreal glow of the stars. The intense lighting from the stars and the complex shadows they cast against the swirling snow create a dramatic, cinematic atmosphere. The overall mood is cold, brutal, and haunting, capturing a moment of isolation and survival in the Soviet retrofuturistic Arctic wasteland

ElectricL
4 66

7 months ago

(Surrealism:1.7, Salvador Dalí late-life style:2.0, Dreamlike distortion:1.6, Hyperreal textures:1.5, Chiaroscuro contrast:1.4, Oil-painting brushstrokes:1.5, Organic fluidity:1.6, Metaphysical realism:1.4) A full-body surrealist portrait of a prostitute, painted in the unmistakable late-life style of Salvador Dalí, where dream logic dictates form and reality bends into its own subconscious reflection. She stands alone in the void, a lone figure frozen in motion yet melting into time itself. Her body is elongated but coherent, her limbs refined into one singular, fluid, organic motion, as if she is a sculpture made of half-formed candle wax, melting at the edges but never fully dissolving. Her face remains untouched by distortion, hyperreal and melancholic, eyes darkened with kohl, staring directly outward, unblinking, as if confronting time, fate, and the fabric of reality itself. A single strand of jet-black hair escapes from her carefully pinned curls, swaying in an invisible breeze. Her lips—painted a deep, blood-red—drip slightly at the edges, as if smeared by unseen hands, caught between seduction and sorrow. Her dress, a relic of the past, is a contradiction of luxury and decay, the hem transforming into thin wisps of smoke, curling and dispersing into the canvas. The fabric is stretched unnaturally, its folds elongating like the melted forms of Dalí’s classic clocks, one shoulder slipping in an eternal descent, never quite falling. The setting is an infinite, surreal landscape—a lonely street with no visible end, where shadows stretch longer than their owners, and the cobblestones appear to melt into liquid mercury. In the background, a large, antique pocket watch, twisted and partially submerged in the air, hangs frozen at an uncertain hour, its hands warped into elongated spirals. A single red rose, impossibly large and impossibly alive, hovers just behind her, its petals peeling away like fragments of forgotten love letters. The air feels thick, painted with visible brushstrokes, where light and shadow do not obey the laws of physics—instead, they bleed into one another, wrapping around her body in soft, liquid chiaroscuro, mimicking the curvature of a dream. She is not merely a woman but a symbol—of desire, of loss, of something slipping through time like sand through Dalí’s own fingers.

ElectricL
4 140

6 months ago

"The Colossus Beneath the Desert" – (Primary Subject: Titanic Buried Giant Stirring Beneath Sand Dunes, 1.7 weight) — deep in an endless, wind-scoured desert, a vast ancient colossus lies half-submerged beneath dunes of golden sand, its face cracked and weathered, sculpted from stone and bone. One glowing eye now flickers to life for the first time in ten thousand years, casting a pillar of blue light through the dust-choked sky. It is waking. The scale is impossible—ridges of sand ripple for miles outward with each breath it takes. What appears to be mountains on the horizon are the curved tips of its buried fingers, slowly flexing. Its ribs form deep canyons, home to temples built by forgotten civilizations who once worshipped it as god, jailer, and weapon. Above it, a caravan of nomads has stopped. Their camels rear back in fear. The elders whisper old songs once thought metaphor. A solitary figure in ceremonial robes walks toward the eye, chanting in forgotten tongues, holding a staff that glows faintly in resonance. This is not a confrontation. It is a negotiation. The sky roils with duststorms, lit orange and violet by the setting sun. Shadows stretch long across the sand, wrapping the moment in mythic stillness. Massive stone anklets and rune-bound chains anchor the colossus deep below—their glyphs eroded, weakened. A sandstorm gathers behind it, as if the world resists its rising. Its skin is made of layered strata and fossilized memory, carved with glowing runes that flicker like fault lines. When it exhales, the wind shifts continents. Its breath is heavy with salt, iron, and ancient sound. The desert listens. Rendered in epic cinematic realism, with sweeping scale, warm atmospheric tones, and deep contrast between golden sand, cold stone, and glowing eyes. Shot through a dusty anamorphic lens, grain visible in the low sun, with volumetric light shafts and wide mythic framing. Think Dune x Dark Souls x ancient Mesopotamian apocalypse (monumental visual drama, 1.4 weight).

ElectricL
4 120