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

twisted limbs 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
8 350

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
4 160

8 months ago

A colossal, shadowy figure looms over a surreal, neon-lit underworld, its horns spiraling into infinity like fractal vortexes. Its body is composed of shifting cosmic voids, speckled with burning red stars and glowing sigils of forgotten knowledge. Its eyes are liquid gold, hypnotic and all-consuming, drawing souls into its boundless gaze. Below, two astral-bound figures kneel, shackled by chains of molten silver, yet upon closer inspection, the chains are loose—revealing that their imprisonment is a self-imposed illusion. Their bodies flicker between human and shadow, caught between desire and liberation. The Devil’s outstretched hands weave luminous strings of manipulation, controlling floating tarot cards, shifting golden coins, and burning forbidden books, symbols of temptation and earthly distractions. Around them, melting architectures of hedonistic palaces and warped neon cityscapes twist and collapse, representing the ephemeral nature of false power. Above, a crimson moon drips molten silver, forming a cascading river of lost souls, forgotten dreams, and abandoned ambitions, eternally flowing into the abyss. The air crackles with chaotic, surreal energy, embodying the raw force of passion, obsession, and the choice between enslavement and awakening. Salvador Dalí surrealism, hyper-detailed, haunting yet mesmerizing, celestial and infernal contrast, glowing sigils, cinematic 4K surrealism, fractal horns, neon shadows, liquid reality, ultra-sharp, dreamlike fantasy. --avoid: malformed, extra limbs, distorted anatomy, blurry, low-resolution, pixelated, stretched features, exaggerated distortions, cartoonish, low-poly, noisy, CGI look, unnatural lighting, bad proportions, poorly drawn hands, floating objects, watermark, text artifacts, random artifacts, generic horror elements.

afdf066233c
2 120

9 months ago

A terrifying **shadowy humanoid creature**, towering ominously behind a **chain-link fence**, silhouetted against a dark, overcast sky. Its elongated limbs, hunched posture, and grotesquely distorted facial features create an unsettling, monstrous presence. The creature's **skin appears rough and decayed**, with patches of **thin, matted fur** covering its skeletal frame. Its mouth is slightly open, revealing sharp, jagged teeth, and its **hollow, sunken eyes** radiate an eerie, predatory menace. The **chain-link fence** in the foreground adds a layer of depth and realism, emphasizing the idea of a **forbidden or restricted area**, as if the creature has been **trapped or recently escaped**. The perspective is from the viewpoint of an observer standing behind the fence, adding an element of suspense and fear, as though witnessing something out of a **dark horror film or nightmare**. The **background is a desolate landscape**, featuring twisted, barren trees reaching toward the sky, their **gnarled branches devoid of leaves**, enhancing the **apocalyptic, eerie atmosphere**. The **sky is filled with thick, heavy clouds**, casting an ominous, bluish-gray hue over the entire scene. The air appears **cold and misty**, with subtle fog rolling over the distant ground. Rendered in a **cinematic horror style**, this image captures **ultra-realistic textures, dramatic lighting, and deep shadows**, intensifying the **nightmarish, otherworldly** ambiance. The composition evokes feelings of **dread, isolation, and impending doom**, making the viewer feel like they’ve stumbled upon something they were never meant to see.

Pulsar212121
2 120

7 months ago

"An award-winning, harrowing double exposure oil painting that captures the sinister and macabre atmosphere of Hostel. The central figure is a young traveler, their face a haunting mix of fear, disbelief, and desperation as they slowly realize the horrors unfolding around them. Their image blends with the disturbing, nightmarish surroundings of the foreign hostel—dimly lit hallways, locked doors, and the shadowy, unfeeling faces of their captors lurking in the background. The double exposure technique seamlessly merges the figure with the grotesque and macabre imagery of the torture chambers, with ominous tools of pain, bloodstained floors, and dark silhouettes of twisted figures in the background, all becoming part of the character’s form. The tension is palpable as the traveler’s body dissolves into the cruel, unrelenting environment, their limbs intertwining with the dilapidated walls, chains, and eerie shadows. The palette is dominated by dark, foreboding tones—grays, blacks, and muted reds—accentuated by the occasional, sickly yellow light from the flickering lamps, heightening the sense of dread and isolation. The texture of the oil paint intensifies the claustrophobic atmosphere, with thick brushstrokes creating depth and tension, as every element of the painting seems to close in on the viewer. The composition blends the vulnerability of the protagonist with the inescapable terror of the environment, conveying the chilling theme of being trapped in a foreign, cruel world where one’s worst fears come to life. This masterpiece is a visceral exploration of human terror, survival, and the grotesque, making it a darkly captivating and emotionally charged portrayal of the horrors from Hostel.

Nednut4362
1 87

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
1 100