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

Half her face is in shadow prompts

hundreds of results

7 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
11 500

6 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
8 270

7 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
7 340

9 months ago

A close-up, bust-framed portrait of a powerful, malevolent sorcerer. Half of his face is human—sharp, angular, and etched with deep lines of age and dark knowledge, his piercing eyes glowing faintly with a malevolent light. The other half of his face is unnatural: a swirling mass of dark smoke and searing, glowing purple energy that crackles and flickers like an unstable flame. The energy pulses through the smoke, faint streaks of violet light cutting across his shadowy form like veins of raw power. His expression is one of cold, focused determination, with a hint of cruel satisfaction, as though he’s reveling in his sinister dominance. In his gnarled hands, twisted with dark veins and adorned with intricate rings of blackened metal, he holds a swirling, seething mass of glowing souls. The souls appear as countless ghostly faces—translucent and writhing, their expressions frozen in anguish and despair. They swirl chaotically in his grasp, glowing with spectral purples, blues, and faint streaks of white light. The souls drift outward in thin wisps, curling and dissipating like smoke, as though barely contained by his immense power. Subtle tendrils of the energy connect the souls to his smoke-covered half, as if he is drawing strength from them. The sorcerer’s appearance is dark and regal, clad in ornate, shadowy robes adorned with arcane symbols and glowing runes that pulse faintly in rhythm with the energy in his face. His shoulders are draped in tattered black fabric that flows like liquid shadow, blending seamlessly into the surrounding darkness. The background is ominous and blurred, a void of shadows and faint, drifting smoke illuminated only by the violent purple light emanating from his form and the souls he controls. The lighting is dramatic and cinematic—sharp contrast between deep shadows and the searing violet glow. The light spills across his human half, casting sharp lines across his features, while the glowing energy and souls illuminate the smoke on his other side, creating a chaotic dance of light and shadow. Small embers and particles of energy drift around him, hinting at the immense power radiating from his being.

ElectricL
6 190

5 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
4 100

6 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
4 120

7 months ago

(Cyberpunk, futuristic, dystopian underworld, high detail, cinematic lighting, dark and moody atmosphere) A wiry and gaunt man with sunken, exhausted eyes that have a manic glint, framed by dark circles from years of working in dimly lit back-alley clinics. His pale skin looks sickly under the flickering neon light, and his thin face is lined with tension, his lips slightly parted as if muttering to himself. His hair is unkempt, streaked with oil and grime, further emphasizing his haggard, overworked look. He wears a dingy off-white lab coat, once pristine but now stained with grease, blood, and years of unwashed grime. The fabric is frayed at the edges, hanging loosely over his thin frame. His cybernetic enhancements are crude and patched-together, a collection of exposed wiring and rusted plating barely held together. His left shoulder has a mechanical plating rig, jagged and uneven, with loose bolts and sparking neon-blue wiring protruding in places. His chipped tooth shows when he speaks, adding to his rough, jittery appearance. The background is a dark, cluttered ripperdoc lab, filled with outdated cybernetic parts, flickering monitors, and half-functioning medical equipment. The air is thick with smoke from a nearby vent, and a dull, flickering green med-lab light casts eerie shadows across the scene. A neon-red light from the alley outside spills through a cracked window, contrasting with the cold surgical glow of malfunctioning overhead lamps. The atmosphere is gritty, chaotic, and oppressive, embodying the tension of a street-level surgeon who exists between life and death, law and crime. Rendered in ultra-detailed, cinematic composition, sharp focus, 8K resolution, ray tracing, cyberpunk noir aesthetics, high contrast lighting, depth of field, volumetric lighting, intricate detailing, realistic skin texture, futuristic urban decay, science fiction concept art, hyper-realistic digital painting, dramatic chiaroscuro lighting, neon reflections, moody atmosphere, cybernetic enhancements, grunge aesthetic. Negative Prompt: (bad composition, low detail, low resolution, deformed anatomy, distorted features, asymmetrical face, extra limbs, missing fingers, unrealistic eyes, unnatural skin texture, overly stylized, washed-out colors, blurry, poorly rendered cybernetics, uncanny valley, cartoonish, low-quality render, watermark, text, overexposed lighting, excessive glow, lack of contrast, amateurish design, low effort, duplicate elements, broken limbs, unbalanced composition, generic design, bad perspective, flat shading, soft focus, dull colors, clean or polished cybernetics, generic futuristic doctor, overly heroic pose, pristine environment)

50f098ec63b
4 170

9 months ago

A close-up, bust-framed portrait of a powerful, malevolent sorcerer. Half of his face is human—sharp, angular, and etched with deep lines of age and dark knowledge, his piercing eyes glowing faintly with a malevolent light. The other half of his face is unnatural: a swirling mass of dark smoke and searing, glowing purple energy that crackles and flickers like an unstable flame. The energy pulses through the smoke, faint streaks of violet light cutting across his shadowy form like veins of raw power. His expression is one of cold, focused determination, with a hint of cruel satisfaction, as though he’s reveling in his sinister dominance. In his gnarled hands, twisted with dark veins and adorned with intricate rings of blackened metal, he holds a swirling, seething mass of glowing souls. The souls appear as countless ghostly faces—translucent and writhing, their expressions frozen in anguish and despair. They swirl chaotically in his grasp, glowing with spectral purples, blues, and faint streaks of white light. The souls drift outward in thin wisps, curling and dissipating like smoke, as though barely contained by his immense power. Subtle tendrils of the energy connect the souls to his smoke-covered half, as if he is drawing strength from them. The sorcerer’s appearance is dark and regal, clad in ornate, shadowy robes adorned with arcane symbols and glowing runes that pulse faintly in rhythm with the energy in his face. His shoulders are draped in tattered black fabric that flows like liquid shadow, blending seamlessly into the surrounding darkness. The background is ominous and blurred, a void of shadows and faint, drifting smoke illuminated only by the violent purple light emanating from his form and the souls he controls. The lighting is dramatic and cinematic—sharp contrast between deep shadows and the searing violet glow. The light spills across his human half, casting sharp lines across his features, while the glowing energy and souls illuminate the smoke on his other side, creating a chaotic dance of light and shadow. Small embers and particles of energy drift around him, hinting at the immense power radiating from his being.

ElectricL
3 110

7 months ago

(Full-body shot, dramatic film-noir lighting, vintage 1960s aesthetics, ultra-detailed fabric and skin rendering, cinematic depth, alluring yet enigmatic presence, back to the camera) The femme fatale stands with her back to the camera, poised in the soft, flickering glow of a vintage mid-century bedside lamp. A luxurious fur boa wraps around her shoulders, cascading down her arms and trailing toward the floor in sensuous folds. Her figure is framed with cinematic elegance, the light tracing the contours of her silhouette. A silk slip or fitted evening gown peeks from beneath the fur’s embrace, clinging gracefully to her form. Stockings with delicate seams add a touch of vintage allure, catching the light with subtle highlights. She faces an antique vanity mirror, her reflection revealing an unreadable yet captivating expression. A vintage cigarette holder rests delicately in her fingers, its ember unlit but evocative of quiet tension. Wisps of earlier smoke linger in the air, swirling within the moody haze of the dimly lit room. Behind her, a velvet chaise lounge sits in the shadows, an old rotary phone off the hook, its coiled cord stretching across the vanity. A half-empty glass of whiskey reflects the warm light, hinting at a story left unfinished. The atmosphere is charged with mystery and quiet power—she is a woman who commands attention without ever turning to face it. Wrapped in shadow and elegance, she remains untouchable, a vision suspended between seduction and secrecy, like a forgotten frame from a lost noir masterpiece.

ElectricL
3 190

7 months ago

A hyperrealistic close-up, half-figure portrait of Gandalf the Grey, his intense gaze focused downward as he holds his hand under the One Ring, which levitates just above his open palm. Gandalf’s expression is a mix of awe, contemplation, and caution, his piercing eyes capturing the weight of the ring’s power and his own reluctance to handle it. Fine wrinkles and age lines on his face are intricately detailed, capturing the wisdom and burden of his years. His grey cloak and robes are richly textured, each fold and shadow rendered with lifelike precision, while his long, white beard flows naturally down his chest. The One Ring hovers above his hand, glowing with an eerie, molten golden light that illuminates the Elvish script carved into its surface. The iconic letters glow a fiery orange-red, their curves and lines vividly etched, as if burning from within. The light from the ring casts a warm, golden glow on Gandalf’s hand and face, creating complex shadows and highlights that contrast against the cooler tones of his clothing and the dim background. A faint, magical aura surrounds the ring, with subtle particles of light drifting upward, hinting at its otherworldly power. The background is dark and blurred, ensuring the viewer’s attention remains on Gandalf and the ring, with only hints of mist or faint light in the distance to add depth. The lighting is dramatic and focused, with the ring as the central source, casting a delicate radiance on Gandalf’s fingers and the furrowed lines on his brow. This composition captures the intensity and danger of the One Ring, suspended in a moment of powerful, quiet tension

c7e48d371df
3 72