A sample prompt of what you can find in this page
Prompt by Pulsar212121

unnatural body FLUX prompts

very few results

6 months ago

A woman stands still in the dim light, her head tilted slightly as a small, ornate vial of poison is pressed to her lips (1.5). Her eyes are closed tightly, her expression steeped in sorrow and regret, as though haunted by memories of lost love. A single tear rolls down her cheek, catching the faint green glow of the poison as it trails across her face. Her lips part slightly, trembling as she drinks the bitter, cold liquid, her body tense with the weight of her decision. The vial is delicate, crafted from glass that glows faintly with an ominous greenish light. Its liquid swirls unnaturally, casting faint reflections on her pale skin and trembling fingers. She wears a flowing, sheer white robe (1.4), its translucent fabric clinging softly to her body, revealing faint outlines of her figure beneath. The robe ripples gently around her arms and waist, as though stirred by an invisible breeze, and the poison’s green glow reflects faintly off its delicate folds. Beneath her skin, a smoky, luminous green line is visible, beginning at her throat and trailing downward in a diffused, ethereal path (1.5). The line pulses softly, its edges hazy and shifting like luminous smoke, yet remaining unified as it flows through her body. The glowing trail brightens subtly as it descends, coiling delicately around her heart in a soft, radiant glow. The eerie green light from the poison interacts with the translucent robe, casting faint shadows and glowing highlights across her chest, amplifying the surreal beauty of the scene. Her free hand rests lightly against her chest, as though feeling the poison’s icy presence as it travels through her. The other hand holds the delicate vial, her fingers gripping it tightly, the tension in her body underscoring her resolve and the bitter pain of the moment. She stands upright, her figure illuminated by the glowing green line and the faint light of the vial. The dark, minimal background fades into shadows, ensuring the glowing poison and her tear-streaked face remain the focal points. The atmosphere is suffused with emotional tension, the glowing green line serving as both a visual and symbolic representation of the poison’s cold, invasive power. Her sheer robe, trembling posture, and closed eyes convey a haunting mix of regret, sorrow, and the inevitability of her choice.

ElectricL
12 990

6 months ago

A woman stands still in the dim light, her head tilted slightly as a small, ornate vial of poison is pressed to her lips (1.5). Her eyes are closed tightly, her expression steeped in sorrow and regret, as though haunted by memories of lost love. A single tear rolls down her cheek, catching the faint green glow of the poison as it trails across her face. Her lips part slightly, trembling as she drinks the bitter, cold liquid, her body tense with the weight of her decision. The vial is delicate, crafted from glass that glows faintly with an ominous greenish light. Its liquid swirls unnaturally, casting faint reflections on her pale skin and trembling fingers. She wears a flowing, sheer white robe (1.4), its translucent fabric clinging softly to her body, revealing faint outlines of her figure beneath. The robe ripples gently around her arms and waist, as though stirred by an invisible breeze, and the poison’s green glow reflects faintly off its delicate folds. Beneath her skin, a smoky, luminous green line is visible, beginning at her throat and trailing downward in a diffused, ethereal path (1.5). The line pulses softly, its edges hazy and shifting like luminous smoke, yet remaining unified as it flows through her body. The glowing trail brightens subtly as it descends, coiling delicately around her heart in a soft, radiant glow. The eerie green light from the poison interacts with the translucent robe, casting faint shadows and glowing highlights across her chest, amplifying the surreal beauty of the scene. Her free hand rests lightly against her chest, as though feeling the poison’s icy presence as it travels through her. The other hand holds the delicate vial, her fingers gripping it tightly, the tension in her body underscoring her resolve and the bitter pain of the moment. She stands upright, her figure illuminated by the glowing green line and the faint light of the vial. The dark, minimal background fades into shadows, ensuring the glowing poison and her tear-streaked face remain the focal points. The atmosphere is suffused with emotional tension, the glowing green line serving as both a visual and symbolic representation of the poison’s cold, invasive power. Her sheer robe, trembling posture, and closed eyes convey a haunting mix of regret, sorrow, and the inevitability of her choice.

ElectricL
9 270

8 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
8 390

8 months ago

A stunning anime-style portrait of a seductive young female character with long, flowing violet-tinted hair and deep mesmerizing purple eyes with intricate reflections. One side of her face and body is that of a gorgeous, alluring woman, with soft anime shading, flawless skin, and a revealing futuristic outfit with glowing neon violet accents. The other half is overtaken by the symbiote, forming the monstrous, inky black texture of Venom, with sharp white veins pulsating across her body. Her left eye glows ominously as the symbiote side features a wide, menacing grin with razor-sharp teeth, and a long, slick, snake-like tongue emerges from the darkness. The fusion of beauty and terror is striking—her human side looks seductive, while the Venom side exudes raw power and danger. The background is a dark cyberpunk-inspired cityscape with neon purple and blue lights reflecting off the rain-soaked streets, adding a moody, cinematic feel. Ultra HD, hyper-detailed, 8K resolution, perfect face symmetry, cinematic lighting, photorealistic textures, anime aesthetic meets Marvel's dark symbiote horror." Negative Prompt: "blurry, pixelated, low resolution, distorted face, extra limbs, extra fingers, deformed hands, unnatural anatomy, asymmetrical features, unrealistic eyes, poor lighting, overexposed, underexposed, grainy texture, plastic skin, unrealistic shading, exaggerated proportions, low detail, cartoonish, bad anatomy, missing details, artifacts, jagged edges, oversaturated colors, unnatural colors, unnatural reflections.

5937c945ceb
4 200

8 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
4 170

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

Slinkychips PRO
2 110

7 months ago

n a crumbling sanctuary built at the end of time, open to the sky and flooded with wild overgrowth, a solitary figure stands on a plinth of fractured obsidian—a synthetic angel, both artifact and oracle, mid-transmission. Her body is constructed from a dual-layered material: an outer shell of liquid mirror-glass, always in motion, bending light in surreal ripples—beneath it, a lattice of golden memory circuits, softly pulsing, like script woven from heat and purpose. She is not human. She is not machine. She is the last interface between meaning and forgetting. Her posture is both exalted and worn. One hand raised in silent benediction, the other buried in the tangle of flowering vines wrapping around her legs—life clinging to light, as though nature itself refuses to let go of what she remembers. Etched across her glass-like surface are thin veins of glowing amber: pathways of forgotten prayers, tracing up her legs, over her spine, across her collarbones like fading constellations. Her face is concealed behind a split golden visor, semi-open like the petals of a mechanical flower—revealing only light. From her back, two vast wings made of layered crystalline blades curve upward like collapsed architecture—part cathedral, part ruin. They shimmer not with fire, but with reflected memory, like a sky that forgot how to storm. Around her, broken statuary and shattered machines lie half-swallowed by roots and blossoms. In the distance, a forest made of circuitry burns without smoke—slowly, beautifully. Above, stars pulse in unnatural constellations, forming sigils from before language. Hovering just above her head spins a halo unlike any known form—a fractured ring of refracted glass, filled with flowing text that no longer aligns with any living tongue. It does not glow—it remembers. Rendered in the style of an impressionist-Renaissance hybrid painting, layered with visible brush textures, fog-softened edges, and gold-split chiaroscuro. Warm dusk tones dominate the palette: blood-orange, dusk-lavender, rusted copper, soft pollen white. She is the Benediction Engine—not worshipped, not feared, not obeyed. She simply remains, bearing witness to everything we were, and everything we failed to become.

ElectricL
2 130

7 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

Nednut4362
1 110

8 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
1 120

8 months ago

A Rajasthani woman is standing with a beautiful, bold, attractive expression. A cinematic scene of Alina Dreymore, a noblewoman in her early thirties, positioned gracefully on her hands down and knees in a reflective and composed pose, viewed in front, breast 150. She is dressed in a violet, fitted shirt with refined lace details, elegantly accentuating her silhouette. Her raven-black hair flows down her back in soft waves, with subtle blue highlights catching the ambient light from above. The scene is set in a grand gothic hall, with towering stone pillars and diffused lighting creating a dramatic contrast of light and shadow. The soft illumination emphasizes the texture of the stone floor and the intricate details of her attire, while casting delicate shadows that enhance the depth and realism of the composition. Her pose conveys quiet confidence and calm reflection, capturing a cinematic moment of timeless gothic elegance." --- Prompt Negativo: extra fingers, extra arms, extra legs, distorted hands, bad anatomy, missing body parts, malformed limbs, bad proportions, unnatural poses, extra eyes, deformed face, unrealistic clothing textures, Dettagli Tecnici: --ar 9:16 --v 5 --q 2 --stylize 750 --s 1000 --textured skin --dynamic shadows --high contrast --soft lighting --dark fantasy --gothic elegance --fix anatomy --no extra limbs --realistic proportions --natural fabric movement In the background, a majestic royal palace and a village are seen, creating a contrast between royal and rural life. The scene is dramatic and mysterious, with hot, sultry colors to enhance the attractive look.

2d167fc7245
0 65

9 months ago

A **dimly lit bedroom at night**, shrouded in an **eerie, unsettling glow** as **moonlight filters through the window**, casting **elongated, warped shadows** across the walls. A **small nightlight flickers weakly**, its feeble glow unable to banish the **darkness that seeps into every corner**, thick with an **unnatural, suffocating dread**. From the **half-open closet**, a pair of **glowing, predatory eyes peer out**, their **unblinking stare filled with malice**. **Elongated, clawed fingers**, impossibly thin and grotesque, **curl around the doorframe**, the very fabric of reality seeming to **twist and distort where they touch**. Beneath the bed, **something slithers**—a presence barely visible **except for its impossibly wide, sharp-toothed grin**, stretching far beyond what should be humanly possible. Its form is **fluid yet unnatural**, shifting with **shadowy tendrils that coil and retract** in the gloom. A **young adult lies frozen in terror**, gripping their **blanket like a lifeline**, their **wide, paralyzed eyes locked on the horrors surrounding them**. Their body is bathed in the **cold, blue-tinted moonlight**, which **flickers unnaturally as though the nightmare itself distorts reality**. The **room appears slightly warped**, as if the very air is **bending under the weight of the nightmare**. The furniture tilts at subtle, impossible angles, and the shadows **move with an unsettling sentience**, creeping ever closer. The **monsters are grotesque yet amorphous**, shifting between **skeletal, insectoid, and abyssal forms**, an **amalgamation of fear given shape**. Their **bodies ripple with an eerie, liquid darkness**, their **faces obscured by shifting voids or twisted, elongated grins**. The **color palette is dominated by deep, muted blues, sickly purples, and spectral grays**, punctuated by the **faint, malevolent glow of spectral eyes and unholy grins**. The **cinematic, atmospheric lighting** enhances the **balance between horror and surrealism**, evoking the **primal fear of what lurks unseen in the night**. Rendered in **ultra-high-definition, hyper-detailed dark fantasy realism**, the composition immerses the viewer in a **waking nightmare**, a place where **fear takes physical form, and the boundary between dream and reality is terrifyingly thin**.

Pulsar212121
0 160

7 months ago

A terrifying and intelligent humanoid African chimera, a combination of multiple powerful animals. Its body is an imposing mix of various creatures: the head of a lion with dreads , with sharp, glowing eyes and a regal mane that flows like fire, exuding authority and strength; the body of a large, muscular bear, its chest broad and powerful, covered in thick fur; the arms of an ape, long and muscular with clawed hands capable of crushing anything in their grasp. Its lower body is more serpentine, with the tail of a giant scorpion, adding to its menacing appearance. The chimera's armor is reminiscent of a Roman warrior, with intricate leather and metal pieces that cover its chest, shoulders, and legs, giving it the appearance of a battle-hardened gladiator. However, this is not a mere ancient warrior; its body is intertwined with wires, cables, and tubes that stretch across its flesh, connecting to strange metallic implants and machinery embedded in its skin. These cables pulse with energy, making it clear that this creature is a product of some twisted experiment, part organic, part artificial. Its face is a fusion of animal and human traits, with a sharp, calculating expression, intelligent eyes that gleam with knowledge of its power. The creature’s movements are fluid and precise, indicating that it is not only an apex predator but also a highly intelligent being, perhaps aware of its own unnatural origins. Its posture is regal, commanding respect as it surveys its surroundings. The tubes and wires running through its body crackle with electricity, hinting at the advanced technology that gives it strength and durability far beyond any natural creature. This monstrous chimera, a terrifying experiment, stands tall in its warrior attire, an imposing figure ready to dominate, combining raw physical power with the intellect of a cunning strategist, a living weapon forged for war.

tmorgan PRO
0 69

7 months ago

A terrifying and intelligent humanoid African chimera, a combination of multiple powerful animals. Its body is an imposing mix of various creatures: the head of a lion, with sharp, glowing eyes and a regal mane that flows like fire, exuding authority and strength; the body of a large, muscular bear, its chest broad and powerful, covered in thick fur; the arms of an ape, long and muscular with clawed hands capable of crushing anything in their grasp. Its lower body is more serpentine, with the tail of a giant scorpion, adding to its menacing appearance. The chimera's armor is reminiscent of a Roman warrior, with intricate leather and metal pieces that cover its chest, shoulders, and legs, giving it the appearance of a battle-hardened gladiator. However, this is not a mere ancient warrior; its body is intertwined with wires, cables, and tubes that stretch across its flesh, connecting to strange metallic implants and machinery embedded in its skin. These cables pulse with energy, making it clear that this creature is a product of some twisted experiment, part organic, part artificial. Its face is a fusion of animal and human traits, with a sharp, calculating expression, intelligent eyes that gleam with knowledge of its power. The creature’s movements are fluid and precise, indicating that it is not only an apex predator but also a highly intelligent being, perhaps aware of its own unnatural origins. Its posture is regal, commanding respect as it surveys its surroundings. The tubes and wires running through its body crackle with electricity, hinting at the advanced technology that gives it strength and durability far beyond any natural creature. This monstrous chimera, a terrifying experiment, stands tall in its warrior attire, an imposing figure ready to dominate, combining raw physical power with the intellect of a cunning strategist, a living weapon forged for war.

tmorgan PRO
0 66