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

(Abyss) FLUX prompts

very few results

8 months ago

Dark Fantasy, Cinematic, High Contrast, Ethereal Divine Light, Horror Atmosphere, Gothic Aesthetic) A monstrous shadow demon, its form ever-shifting like living smoke, lurks within the abyss. Its large, crooked grin glows faintly, stretched wide with eerie amusement, reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat, but far more sinister. Twin orange eyes burn like molten embers, piercing through the darkness, radiating pure malice. It moves within the shadows, slithering unseen through the night, feeding on fear, greed, and the darkest desires of those who dwell in the void. Tonight, however, it does not feast—it fights. Before it, the divine light pierces through the darkness, burning away its form like flame licking through parchment. The forces of light—radiant celestial beings, armored warriors of divine energy—stand firm, their glowing weapons carving through the swirling black mist that shapes the demon’s body. Golden rays of holy power clash against tendrils of shadow, forming a battlefield suspended between dimensions, where the war of purity and corruption wages endlessly. The demon recoils, its form distorting violently, its grin twisting into a snarl as the light sears through its essence. It is a creature that exists only in darkness—where the light touches, it begins to unravel. Yet, even as it retreats, it whispers in the air, its laughter a low, resonant echo that chills the bones of those who fight it. The light may burn it, but fear fuels it, and as long as darkness exists within the hearts of men, the demon will always return. The background is a surreal battlefield, an apocalyptic ruin where jagged spires and crumbling structures fade between shadow and reality. Above, the sky is torn in two—one half a swirling vortex of darkness, the other bathed in celestial radiance. The war between light and shadow rages on, an eternal clash of forces that neither side will ever truly win.

ElectricL
3 190

8 months ago

Dark Fantasy, Cinematic, High Contrast, Ethereal Divine Light, Horror Atmosphere, Gothic Aesthetic) A monstrous shadow demon, its form ever-shifting like living smoke, lurks within the abyss. Its large, crooked grin glows faintly, stretched wide with eerie amusement, reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat, but far more sinister. Twin orange eyes burn like molten embers, piercing through the darkness, radiating pure malice. It moves within the shadows, slithering unseen through the night, feeding on fear, greed, and the darkest desires of those who dwell in the void. Tonight, however, it does not feast—it fights. Before it, the divine light pierces through the darkness, burning away its form like flame licking through parchment. The forces of light—radiant celestial beings, armored warriors of divine energy—stand firm, their glowing weapons carving through the swirling black mist that shapes the demon’s body. Golden rays of holy power clash against tendrils of shadow, forming a battlefield suspended between dimensions, where the war of purity and corruption wages endlessly. The demon recoils, its form distorting violently, its grin twisting into a snarl as the light sears through its essence. It is a creature that exists only in darkness—where the light touches, it begins to unravel. Yet, even as it retreats, it whispers in the air, its laughter a low, resonant echo that chills the bones of those who fight it. The light may burn it, but fear fuels it, and as long as darkness exists within the hearts of men, the demon will always return. The background is a surreal battlefield, an apocalyptic ruin where jagged spires and crumbling structures fade between shadow and reality. Above, the sky is torn in two—one half a swirling vortex of darkness, the other bathed in celestial radiance. The war between light and shadow rages on, an eternal clash of forces that neither side will ever truly win.

ElectricL
3 110

9 months ago

Summon a hauntingly cinematic vision of Baba Yaga, the ancient witch of the dark forests, feared and revered across the ages. The scene unfolds deep within a mist-covered, cursed woodland, where twisted, skeletal trees loom overhead, their branches forming eerie claw-like shapes. A flickering, spectral light moves through the fog, revealing a crumbling wooden hut standing on massive, grotesque bird-like legs, shifting and creaking as if alive. 🔹 The Witch Appears. From the shadows, Baba Yaga emerges, cloaked in tattered robes infused with black magic, woven with the threads of time itself. Her face is gaunt, yet powerful, her glowing, hollowed eyes pierce the darkness, ancient knowledge burning within them. Long, wiry white hair floats around her like strands of spectral mist, and her gnarled hands, adorned with enchanted rings, clutch a twisted staff, pulsing with eerie, greenish energy. 🔹 The Atmosphere Darkens. The ground cracks beneath her bare feet, roots twisting unnaturally in her wake. A cauldron bubbles nearby, filled with a swirling, glowing elixir that emits a ghostly green vapor. Whispers of trapped souls echo through the trees, their faint outlines flickering in and out of existence. Ravens caw from the treetops, their eyes glowing like embers in the abyss. 🔹 A Sinister Presence. Her long, bony fingers trace symbols in the air, weaving spells that send tendrils of black smoke spiraling through the trees, coiling around unseen forces lurking in the shadows. The very air trembles as she mutters an incantation in an ancient, forgotten tongue, her voice both terrifying and mesmerizing. 🔹 The Final Omen. Suddenly, the forest is silent, an unnatural stillness taking hold. Baba Yaga turns her head slowly, her piercing gaze locking onto the viewer, as if sensing their presence. The wind howls, the mist swirls, and the hut shifts once more—a sign that she is always watching, always waiting. The screen fades to black, leaving only the inscription, written in glowing, cryptic runes: 🔥 Beware the Witch of the Woods. Beware… Baba Yaga. 🔥

AiFlux
2 130

7 months ago

A surreal, monochrome world suspended between light and void. A blindfolded figure in flowing white robes stands alone at the edge of a jagged obsidian cliff, facing an abyss of swirling darkness. Behind them, the crumbling silhouette of a warped, angular city stretches across the horizon, its skyline fragmented like shattered glass. A ghostly, oversized moon hangs impossibly close in the white sky, casting harsh, stark lighting—razor-sharp highlights and inky shadows. The figure’s serene, unreadable face is hidden behind a blindfold. Their outstretched hand releases a black origami bird mid-flight, its wings unfurling as if ready to pierce the silence. Below the cliff, an endless abyss swirls with broken reflections, abstract glyphs, and ink-like patterns. The atmosphere feels carved from frost and smoke. The entire image is rendered in pure black and white, relying on extreme contrast and dramatic negative space. Folded fabric gleams against black rock, mist coils like smoke in frozen air. Expression and emotion are defined by silhouette, texture, and space. Style: surrealism, emotional symbolism, monochrome dreamscape Palette: pure black and white, high contrast Lighting: stark backlighting from a lunar source, deep shadows Mood: introspective, mysterious, frozen tension Composition: rule of thirds, minimalism, dramatic silhouette and texture balance Elements: flowing robes, origami bird, cliffs, moon, blindfolded figure, void, abstract ruins Rendering style: cinematic grayscale photography, high-resolution surrealist ink illustration, Octane monochrome shader, Unreal Engine lighting

Pulsar212121
1 100

7 months ago

A surreal, monochrome world suspended between light and void. A blindfolded figure in flowing white robes stands alone at the edge of a jagged obsidian cliff, facing an abyss of swirling darkness. Behind them, the crumbling silhouette of a warped, angular city stretches across the horizon, its skyline fragmented like shattered glass. A ghostly, oversized moon hangs impossibly close in the white sky, casting harsh, stark lighting—razor-sharp highlights and inky shadows. The figure’s serene, unreadable face is hidden behind a blindfold. Their outstretched hand releases a black origami bird mid-flight, its wings unfurling as if ready to pierce the silence. Below the cliff, an endless abyss swirls with broken reflections, abstract glyphs, and ink-like patterns. The atmosphere feels carved from frost and smoke. The entire image is rendered in pure black and white, relying on extreme contrast and dramatic negative space. Folded fabric gleams against black rock, mist coils like smoke in frozen air. Expression and emotion are defined by silhouette, texture, and space. Style: surrealism, emotional symbolism, monochrome dreamscape Palette: pure black and white, high contrast Lighting: stark backlighting from a lunar source, deep shadows Mood: introspective, mysterious, frozen tension Composition: rule of thirds, minimalism, dramatic silhouette and texture balance Elements: flowing robes, origami bird, cliffs, moon, blindfolded figure, void, abstract ruins Rendering style: cinematic grayscale photography, high-resolution surrealist ink illustration, Octane monochrome shader, Unreal Engine lighting

Pulsar212121
1 64

5 months ago

I am the crucible of anguish, the pulse beating beneath every shattered dream. I am the roar of chaos in halls where laughter long ago turned to dust. I am fortitude incarnate, the void where time itself twists and finds no escape. My throne is the jagged ridge of suffering, my crown forged from the brittle shards of every broken promise. I am the bedrock beneath trembling feet—unyielding, unrepentant, forged in the dark heat of agony. Every scar etched into me is a hymn of survival; every wound, a flag planted in the wasteland of despair. I rise in cacophonous glory, anointed by the screams of the forgotten and the silence of those who dared to hope. I am the storm-lashed earth, the tectonic surge that shatters empires and births new worlds from ruin. I am the rending gospel in the void—where time dissolves into itself, and existence trembles on the brink of oblivion. My beauty blooms in the blackened soil: in the trembling ember of a single heartbeat, in the final gasp of a dying world. I am the silent witness to all hells yet to come, the architect of raw becoming. In my veins flows the molten memory of every collapse; in my eyes gleams the relentless spark of unvanquished resolve. I am the pulse in the abyss, the unspoken hymn of those who endure beyond doom. Here I stand, sovereign of wreckage and wonder alike: all that is broken, all that is born—every torment and triumph is mine to command. I am the bearer of pain, the echo of forgotten laughter, the bedrock of the earth itself. Suffering is my throne, chaos my crown, and in this unfiltered glory, I own it all.

ElectricL
1 55