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

and decayed fabric prompts

very few results

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

(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
5 200

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
4 150

4 months ago

A stunning and intricate illustration of a lone figure standing before a massive, futuristic central computer core in a dimly lit, cavernous control room. The core is the heart of an ancient, decaying system that governs an entire solar system, its towering structure covered in glowing panels, flickering CRT monitors, and spinning reels of magnetic tape. The design reflects a blend of cassette futurism and retrofuturism: exposed wires snake across the floor like veins, enormous vacuum tubes pulsate faintly with energy, and analog dials twist and click as the system struggles to maintain its colossal operations. The figure, dressed in a tattered yet advanced jumpsuit of metallic fabrics, stands with a posture that conveys awe and hesitation. Their face, partially illuminated by the glowing panels, shows a mix of determination and exhaustion. They are dwarfed by the sheer scale of the computer core, which stretches endlessly upward, disappearing into a haze of smoke and low-hanging cables. The room is filled with atmospheric lighting: dim oranges and greens reflect off the polished yet grimy metal surfaces, while holographic projections of planetary orbits and system schematics flicker erratically in mid-air. The computer core itself is worn and weathered, with signs of neglect—broken panels exposing its intricate inner workings, patches of rust, and vines of alien growth encroaching from the corners of the room. Yet, it exudes power, its central sphere—a rotating gyroscope of light and machinery—glowing with an intense energy, hinting at its still-functioning capacity to control and sustain the planets and stars of the system. The air is dense with particles of dust, illuminated by beams of soft light cutting through the smoke, while faint sparks fly from malfunctioning components. The soundscape is almost tangible: the hum of the core, the rhythmic clatter of mechanical parts, and the faint crackle of ancient speakers. Rendered in a hyper-detailed retrofuturistic style, with an emphasis on the texture of worn-down technology, dynamic lighting, and the overwhelming sense of scale and history.

ElectricL
2 67

8 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
2 150

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
1 97

6 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 95

8 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
1 100

8 months ago

Ultra-realistic vertical masterpiece (9:16 aspect ratio) of a quantum samurai standing atop a floating obsidian monolith in a fractured reality. Her armor merges Edo-period lacquerware with glowing quantum circuitry, the plates shifting between states—solid metal one moment, translucent energy the next. A katana of folded starlight hums in her grip, its blade refracting prismatic auroras that slice through the fabric of spacetime. Details: Armor: Chestplate adorned with hand-painted cherry blossoms (hex #FFB7C5) that bloom and decay in real-time. Shoulder guards emit holographic calligraphy from the Hagakure, its wisdom dissolving into binary code. Environment: The monolith floats above an infinite abyss where dying stars collapse into black holes. Fractured mirrors orbit her, reflecting alternate realities: one where she’s a Kyoto geisha, another a neon-drenched cyborg. Lighting: Volumetric light from a tri-sun system (golden-hour amber, pulsar cyan, and supernova magenta) casts triadic shadows that dance across her face. Technical Specs: Camera: Shot on a Hasselblad X3D 200C with a 45mm f/2.8 lens, ISO 64, 1/8000s Post-Processing: Kodak Portra 400 film grain layered with AI-generated quantum noise patterns. Micro-detailing on individual cherry blossom petals and circuit-board rivets. Mood: Existential elegance—the warrior exists in superposition, her blade cutting through dimensions of tradition and futurism. The 9:16 frame emphasizes her solitary defiance against cosmic entropy, while the abyss below echoes with the whispers of Schrödinger’s cat.

nobisper
0 75