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

thin smoke prompts

very few results

8 months ago

In the textured realism of Simon Stålenhag, a moon-worshiping priestess stands ankle-deep in the calm waters of a misty lake, her naked body fully exposed (2.0). Her raven-black hair flows wildly in the wind (1.8), adding a dynamic sense of motion as she raises her arms in worship toward the vast, star-filled sky. The night is illuminated solely by torches (1.8) planted in an irregular pattern along the sandy beach behind her, their golden flames flickering against the cool, muted tones of the environment. Her posture is powerful yet serene, the natural curves of her body, including her softly rounded bubble butt (2.0), highlighted by the warm glow of the torches. The contrast between the golden torchlight and the cool misty darkness of the lake creates a striking interplay of light and shadow, emphasizing the contours of her figure (1.9). To her side, a silver-grey horse (1.7) stands peacefully, tied to a nearby tree on the shoreline, its sleek coat reflecting faint glimmers of the torchlight. The lake is veiled in a thin layer of smoke (1.8), which drifts softly across the surface, blending with the hazy reflection of the torches in the rippling water. The air is alive with hundreds of fireflies (1.9), their tiny golden lights moving erratically, adding texture and depth to the scene. The torches' crackling flames mix with the gentle rustle of leaves and the faint hum of the fireflies, creating a richly immersive atmosphere. The volumetric lighting (1.8) from the torches filters through the drifting smoke, casting soft, dynamic beams across the scene. The muted earthy tones of the surroundings, interspersed with the vibrant glow of the torches and the flickering fireflies, evoke Stålenhag’s characteristic balance of realism and mysticism, capturing a moment of sacred ritual and haunting beauty.

9 months ago

A colossal, ancient tower rises endlessly into the storm-wracked sky, its blackened stone walls jagged and monolithic, as if carved by forgotten gods. The tower stretches upward with impossible scale, piercing through the heavens themselves, its summit vanishing into churning, thunderous clouds. Around the tower’s foundation, the earth trembles and fractures—fiery veins of molten orange light seep through the cracks like wounds in the very fabric of the world, casting a sinister, flickering glow against the weathered stone. At the base of the tower lies the remnants of a once-mighty wall, a colossal gate now reduced to crumbling ruin. Though shattered and decayed, the gate still exudes power, its shattered arches adorned with intricate carvings of twisted demons and forgotten gods, their faces frozen in expressions of torment and rage. Jagged, black iron spikes jut from the stone, some broken, others slick with the glow of embers drifting through the thick, sulfurous air. The gate yawns open like a maw, and the darkness beyond seems to pulse and breathe—an ominous passage leading into the depths of hell itself. The landscape surrounding the tower is a barren, scorched wasteland. Twisted rock formations claw upward like skeletal fingers, shrouded in drifting mists that glow faintly with the light of unseen fires. Patches of smoke rise lazily from fissures in the earth, and small, flickering flames dance atop scattered braziers—unearthly fires that refuse to die. The wind howls through the desolation, carrying with it whispers and distant screams, as though the very land resents the presence of intruders. Above, the sky churns violently. Dark clouds swirl in a massive vortex centered around the tower, lit from within by bursts of electric blue and crimson lightning that tear through the heavens, illuminating the tower’s grotesque carvings and dark reliefs. Shadows dance and warp across its surface, giving the impression that the stone itself is alive, writhing with an ancient, malevolent energy. The atmosphere crackles with power, as if the boundary between worlds grows thin in this accursed place. In the distance, at the edge of the ruined path leading to the gate, a lone figure stands, cloaked in black and dwarfed by the tower’s immeasurable size. The figure’s silhouette is sharp against the fiery glow emanating from the cracked earth, their head tilted upward as they stare at the monstrous tower with a mixture of awe and dread. A faint wind pulls at their cloak, adding a sense of motion to the scene, as though the very world pushes them toward their inevitable fate. The color palette is dramatic and vivid: deep, shadowy blacks and cold grays dominate the stone, contrasted by fiery oranges and molten reds that pulse like a heartbeat through the earth. The sky above glows with dark blues and sickly purples, pierced by streaks of violent, crackling lightning. Reflective pools of molten light shimmer against the tower’s base, while faint embers drift through the air like dying stars, caught in the gravity of this immense, profane structure. Every detail—every crack, carving, and glowing fissure—breathes with life and dread, as though the tower itself is aware of those who dare gaze upon it.

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.

6 months ago

(Full-body shot, dramatic film-noir lighting, vintage 1960s aesthetics, ultra-detailed fabric and skin rendering, cinematic depth, alluring yet enigmatic presence) The femme fatale stands with her back to the camera, exuding an air of refined mystery. She is enveloped in a luxurious fur boa, its plush texture draping over her shoulders and cascading down her arms, concealing just enough to leave an aura of intrigue. She gazes toward an antique vanity mirror, her reflection revealing a captivating expression—lips slightly parted, eyes shadowed with a knowing intensity. The dim, amber glow of a mid-century bedside lamp casts long, seductive shadows, accentuating the contours of her poised figure. A sleek silk slip peeks through the embrace of the fur, tracing the lines of her form in soft highlights. Stockings shimmer subtly in the low light, held in place by delicate garters, adding a touch of elegance. In one hand, she holds a vintage cigarette holder, its unlit tip resting between her fingers as a thin wisp of smoke lingers in the air—a remnant of past indulgences. The room is an opulent mid-century dream, with a velvet chaise lounge partially visible behind her. An old rotary phone, its receiver off the hook, lies beside an untouched glass of whiskey on the vanity—silent witnesses to an untold story. The atmosphere is thick with timeless intrigue—she is a woman of untold secrets, a vision of vintage glamour and quiet power. With each carefully placed shadow, she remains an enigma—captivating, untouchable, and forever etched in the lingering haze of a noir dream.

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.

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.

20 days ago

Highly stylized fashion photo from Annie Leibovitz. The image is a thin Hawaiian woman with long, curly, dark brown to black hair that cascades down her back and shoulders. The background is a desolate, grey, cityscape. She stands at the edge of a destroyed bridge. Massive chunks of concrete hang over the river below, cables snapped and tangled. She's clutching a frayed map, her brow furrowed in frustration. The distant skyline is barely visible through thick smoke and rain. She is wearing a traditional outfit. The top is a red, strapless bandeau style with intricate patterns in darker red and white, resembling tribal or woven designs. Around her neck, she wears a beaded necklace with small white beads and a prominent blue-turquoise pendant with a unique, textured design. Her lower garment appears to be a skirt made of natural fibers, possibly straw or woven leaves, featuring a light beige or cream color. The skirt has layered sections, with decorative elements such as woven patterns, cutouts, and some yellow or gold floral designs. A red sash or piece of fabric is tied around her waist over the skirt. The skirt extends roughly to her knees and has a natural, fringe-like hem. She is barefoot, and her body posture shows her with hands on her hips, conveying a sense of confidence and readiness. The overall impression is that of a strong, resourceful, and culturally distinct individual. 1. **Skin Wetness/Oiling Enhancement:** The most prominent effect is the amplification of the wet or oily appearance of the skin. This would involve increasing specular highlights and potentially adding small white/light-colored dots or strokes to simulate water droplets or a very oily sheen. This could be achieved through dodge and burn techniques (selectively lightening highlights), adding a subtle glint or sparkle effect, or enhancing existing reflections. 2. **Contrast Boost (Selective):** There's a strong, perhaps localized, contrast applied that makes the highlights pop significantly, especially on the wet skin, while maintaining deep shadows that hint at form and muscle definition. This isn't a global contrast applied to the whole image, as the background remains relatively soft. 3. **Color Saturation (Warm Tones):** The skin tones appear richly saturated and warm, enhancing the natural warmth of the subject's complexion. This might involve a slight increase in overall saturation, particularly in reds and yellows, or a selective saturation boost to the skin tones. 4. **Shadow Deepening:** The shadows, particularly on the body and the background, are quite deep and consistent, creating a dramatic and somewhat intimate mood. This would involve lowering shadow levels and possibly adding a subtle crush to the blacks to make them darker without losing too much detail. 5. **Reflective Catchlight Enhancement (Eyes):** The catchlights in the subject's eyes are very bright and distinct, making the eyes stand out. This could be achieved by selectively dodging or brightening the existing reflections in the pupils. 6. **Subtle Vignetting (Implied):** While not overtly obvious, there might be a very subtle darkening around the edges of the image, helping to draw attention to the central subject. This would be a soft vignetting effect. 7. **Clarity/Texture Enhancement (Skin, Subtle):** While the skin appears smooth due to the wetness, there's a subtle enhancement of texture in areas that aren't fully blown out by highlights, which could be achieved through a slight increase in clarity or micro-contrast. 8. **Overall Warm Color Grade:** Beyond simple saturation, there might be a subtle warm color grade applied to the entire image, leaning towards warmer greens in the background and warm browns in the skin.

6 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)

8 months ago

In the textured realism of Simon Stålenhag, a moon-worshiping priestess stands ankle-deep in the calm waters of a misty lake, her naked body fully exposed (2.0). Her raven-black hair flows wildly in the wind (1.8), adding a dynamic sense of motion as she raises her arms in worship toward the vast, star-filled sky. The night is illuminated solely by torches (1.8) planted in an irregular pattern along the sandy beach behind her, their golden flames flickering against the cool, muted tones of the environment. Her posture is powerful yet serene, the natural curves of her body, including her softly rounded bubble butt (2.0), highlighted by the warm glow of the torches. The contrast between the golden torchlight and the cool misty darkness of the lake creates a striking interplay of light and shadow, emphasizing the contours of her figure (1.9). To her side, a silver-grey horse (1.7) stands peacefully, tied to a nearby tree on the shoreline, its sleek coat reflecting faint glimmers of the torchlight. The lake is veiled in a thin layer of smoke (1.8), which drifts softly across the surface, blending with the hazy reflection of the torches in the rippling water. The air is alive with hundreds of fireflies (1.9), their tiny golden lights moving erratically, adding texture and depth to the scene. The torches' crackling flames mix with the gentle rustle of leaves and the faint hum of the fireflies, creating a richly immersive atmosphere. The volumetric lighting (1.8) from the torches filters through the drifting smoke, casting soft, dynamic beams across the scene. The muted earthy tones of the surroundings, interspersed with the vibrant glow of the torches and the flickering fireflies, evoke Stålenhag’s characteristic balance of realism and mysticism, capturing a moment of sacred ritual and haunting beauty.

8 months ago

In the textured realism of Simon Stålenhag, a moon-worshiping priestess stands ankle-deep in the calm waters of a misty lake, her naked body fully exposed (2.0). Her raven-black hair flows wildly in the wind (1.8), adding a dynamic sense of motion as she raises her arms in worship toward the vast, star-filled sky. The night is illuminated solely by torches (1.8) planted in an irregular pattern along the sandy beach behind her, their golden flames flickering against the cool, muted tones of the environment. Her posture is powerful yet serene, the natural curves of her body, including her softly rounded bubble butt (2.0), highlighted by the warm glow of the torches. The contrast between the golden torchlight and the cool misty darkness of the lake creates a striking interplay of light and shadow, emphasizing the contours of her figure (1.9). To her side, a silver-grey horse (1.7) stands peacefully, tied to a nearby tree on the shoreline, its sleek coat reflecting faint glimmers of the torchlight. The lake is veiled in a thin layer of smoke (1.8), which drifts softly across the surface, blending with the hazy reflection of the torches in the rippling water. The air is alive with hundreds of fireflies (1.9), their tiny golden lights moving erratically, adding texture and depth to the scene. The torches' crackling flames mix with the gentle rustle of leaves and the faint hum of the fireflies, creating a richly immersive atmosphere. The volumetric lighting (1.8) from the torches filters through the drifting smoke, casting soft, dynamic beams across the scene. The muted earthy tones of the surroundings, interspersed with the vibrant glow of the torches and the flickering fireflies, evoke Stålenhag’s characteristic balance of realism and mysticism, capturing a moment of sacred ritual and haunting beauty.

8 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.

9 months ago

Hyperrealistic top-down view of a serene woman floating on her back in the still waters of a tranquil lake at dawn, her full body visible and delicately positioned amidst a surreal, dreamlike environment. Her body is partially submerged, the water gently caressing her skin, and her long, dark hair fans out around her head, rippling like an inky halo. Her soft, peaceful smile radiates tranquility, her eyes closed as if lost in a serene dream. Her form is modestly adorned by scattered lilypads and blooming water lilies, naturally covering her lower body while enhancing the organic elegance of the scene. The water’s surface is shrouded in a thin, ethereal layer of mist or smoke, drifting lazily and creating a dreamlike, otherworldly atmosphere. Soft ripples emanate outward from her floating body, reflecting the soft pinks, oranges, and blues of the dawn light. Her pale skin glows faintly in the golden light of the rising sun, with water droplets clinging to her arms and legs, catching the light in exquisite detail. Beneath the surface, subtle glimpses of aquatic plants and smooth pebbles add depth and texture, blending seamlessly into the serene composition. Surrounding her, clusters of lilypads and delicate white and pink water lilies float naturally, their surfaces dotted with tiny beads of dew. The interplay of the vivid greens and soft pastel hues creates an enchanting frame around her body. The overall tone is ethereal and dreamlike, with the rising mist, faint reflections, and gentle ripples adding layers of texture and movement. The scene feels alive yet impossibly serene, a perfect harmony between the woman and the natural world.

6 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)

5 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.

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.

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.

5 months ago

POV first-person,i am standing by the window, smoking a cigarette, captured from a first-person perspective. only my hand is visible in the frame. i hold the cigarette between my index and middle fingers with a relaxed grip, the lit end glowing faintly in the dim evening light. the cigarette is a standard white filter cigarette, with a thin brown band near the tip. ash has started to form at the end, slightly uneven, with a soft orange ember glowing as i take a slow drag. faint wisps of smoke rise, curling gently into the air before disappearing. my thumb rests near the filter, occasionally flicking the ash away. the view outside the window shows tehran at dusk, with the city lights flickering against the cool evening sky. in the distance, the milad tower stands tall, its distinctive tapered cylindrical body narrowing toward the top before expanding into its iconic multi-tiered head, which houses an observation deck and a glowing ring of lights. the tower's sleek, modern design contrasts with the mix of high-rise buildings and older, traditional structures surrounding it. the city’s streets below are lined with cars, their headlights forming thin, glowing streaks as they navigate through the urban landscape. inside, the atmosphere is moody and contemplative, with the faint glow of streetlights and the subtle reflection of city lights on the window glass. the warm ember of my cigarette pulses slightly as i inhale, adding to the quiet solitude of the moment.