doom FLUX prompts

9 months ago

image of a man in a hoodie and sneakers, high detail iconic character in a hood, wearing a tracksuit, mf doom, sitting down, in a hoodie, ghostface, london gang member, dramatic, in a menacing pose, detailed full body portrait, crips details

8 months ago

"A dramatic comic book-style illustration of an intense battle between Doctor Doom and Silver Surfer. Doctor Doom, wearing a dark green cloak and purple armor, unleashes powerful blue energy blasts from his gauntlet. Silver Surfer, muscular and metallic silver, counters with cosmic energy from his hands while riding his surfboard through the air. The scene is filled with crackling blue lightning and motion lines, emphasizing speed and impact. The background is a dark red and black stylized cityscape with glowing yellow windows, tilted buildings, and dramatic perspective. Bold outlines, vivid colors, dynamic poses, and energetic visual effects give the artwork a classic American comic book aesthetic."

6 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.

4 months ago

(A dramatic historical reenactment style:1.5) she stands solitary on the crumbling facade of an ancient Roman structure, overlooking the smoldering ruins of Mount Vesuvius, where molten lava pours forth like blood from its charred mouth. The air is thick with choking ash and smoke, swirling around her in a chaotic dance. Her tattered clothing is blown back by the intense heat, revealing her exhausted and weathered features, while her wild hair streams out behind her like a banner, whipping violently in the superheated winds. The only light comes from the burning mountain itself, casting long, ominous shadows across the desolate landscape, creating a stark contrast between the fiery destruction and the eerie darkness. The ground trembles beneath her feet, and the distant screams of the doomed city echo through the apocalyptic scene. (Ominous, foreboding atmosphere:1.6) (Highly detailed, cinematic lighting, 8k masterpiece). Overhead photograph.

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.

6 months ago

Shadow Angel Wings shaped of dream-hidden shadows lift me to celestial heights from where I see all. People small in generations I count, all know me as the purest of joy. In storm ridden hearts where none dare I bring the sun, leaving a piece of my soul behind. Still, the light when in need cannot be saved so alone I am doomed to walk. Forever giving until the last smile fades.

6 months ago

doom, doom, doom, doom, cybernetics, biomechanical, octande render, his res, intricate

6 months ago

doom, doom, doom, doom, cybernetics, biomechanical, octande render, his res, intricate

8 months ago

"A dramatic comic book-style illustration of an intense battle between Doctor Doom and Silver Surfer. Doctor Doom, wearing a dark green cloak and purple armor, unleashes powerful blue energy blasts from his gauntlet. Silver Surfer, muscular and metallic silver, counters with cosmic energy from his hands while riding his surfboard through the air. The scene is filled with crackling blue lightning and motion lines, emphasizing speed and impact. The background is a dark red and black stylized cityscape with glowing yellow windows, tilted buildings, and dramatic perspective. Bold outlines, vivid colors, dynamic poses, and energetic visual effects give the artwork a classic American comic book aesthetic."

8 months ago

"A dramatic comic book-style illustration of an intense battle between Doctor Doom and Silver Surfer. Doctor Doom, wearing a dark green cloak and purple armor, unleashes powerful blue energy blasts from his gauntlet. Silver Surfer, muscular and metallic silver, counters with cosmic energy from his hands while riding his surfboard through the air. The scene is filled with crackling blue lightning and motion lines, emphasizing speed and impact. The background is a dark red and black stylized cityscape with glowing yellow windows, tilted buildings, and dramatic perspective. Bold outlines, vivid colors, dynamic poses, and energetic visual effects give the artwork a classic American comic book aesthetic."

8 months ago

"A dramatic comic book-style illustration of an intense battle between Doctor Doom and Silver Surfer. Doctor Doom, wearing a dark green cloak and purple armor, unleashes powerful blue energy blasts from his gauntlet. Silver Surfer, muscular and metallic silver, counters with cosmic energy from his hands while riding his surfboard through the air. The scene is filled with crackling blue lightning and motion lines, emphasizing speed and impact. The background is a dark red and black stylized cityscape with glowing yellow windows, tilted buildings, and dramatic perspective. Bold outlines, vivid colors, dynamic poses, and energetic visual effects give the artwork a classic American comic book aesthetic."

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.

7 months ago

Depict the Flying Dutchman, the infamous ghost ship of legend, as an ancient and spectral vessel lost to time. Its hull is decayed, covered in seaweed and barnacles, betraying centuries spent wandering cursed oceans. The ship's weathered wood is blackened as if burned, creaking ominously in the wind, with gaping holes in its sides that show glimpses of the ocean waves beyond. Its towering masts support tattered and ghostly sails, shredded by countless storms, yet they still billow unnaturally as if driven by unseen forces. A faint, eerie glow radiates from the ship, casting ghostly light onto the surrounding fog and turbulent waters. The deck is populated by its cursed crew—ethereal, skeletal figures cloaked in rotting, sea-soaked garments. Their hollow eyes glow faintly, and their movements are sluggish, as if weighed down by the centuries of their unyielding torment. Some of them are frozen in poses of eternal labor, as though carrying out duties of a doomed voyage. Surrounding the ship, a thick mist swirls and clings to the vessel, blending seamlessly with violent storm clouds and jagged waves. The ship appears to defy nature itself, gliding effortlessly through the chaos. Above, the sky is an ominous shade of gray, fractured by flashes of lightning, and the sound of thunder reverberates through the air. The Flying Dutchman seems to embody both dread and fascination—a tragic vessel, an eternal wanderer, forever shrouded in mystery.

7 months ago

Depict the Flying Dutchman, the infamous ghost ship of legend, as an ancient and spectral vessel lost to time. Its hull is decayed, covered in seaweed and barnacles, betraying centuries spent wandering cursed oceans. The ship's weathered wood is blackened as if burned, creaking ominously in the wind, with gaping holes in its sides that show glimpses of the ocean waves beyond. Its towering masts support tattered and ghostly sails, shredded by countless storms, yet they still billow unnaturally as if driven by unseen forces. A faint, eerie glow radiates from the ship, casting ghostly light onto the surrounding fog and turbulent waters. The deck is populated by its cursed crew—ethereal, skeletal figures cloaked in rotting, sea-soaked garments. Their hollow eyes glow faintly, and their movements are sluggish, as if weighed down by the centuries of their unyielding torment. Some of them are frozen in poses of eternal labor, as though carrying out duties of a doomed voyage. Surrounding the ship, a thick mist swirls and clings to the vessel, blending seamlessly with violent storm clouds and jagged waves. The ship appears to defy nature itself, gliding effortlessly through the chaos. Above, the sky is an ominous shade of gray, fractured by flashes of lightning, and the sound of thunder reverberates through the air. The Flying Dutchman seems to embody both dread and fascination—a tragic vessel, an eternal wanderer, forever shrouded in mystery.

4 months ago

Here’s a concept for your **iconic historic tribute image of Ned Kelly** in the Australian outback at sunrise: ### **Visual Concept:** **1. Setting – Dawn in the Australian Bush:** - A misty, golden sunrise breaking over the **gumtree forests** of southeastern Australia (Victoria/New South Wales). - Cool morning hues: soft blues, warm oranges, and lingering fog between the trees. - The **ancient, towering gumtrees** frame the scene, their bark peeling in the early light. **2. Ned Kelly – The Outlaw Legend:** - Ned stands **stoic and defiant**, wearing his **iconic homemade armor** (the helmet with the eye slit, the breastplate). - His **long coat and worn clothing** show the rugged life of a bushranger. - He holds a **rifle or revolver** loosely, not in attack but as a symbol of resistance. - His expression is **determined yet weary**, a man caught between myth and reality. **3. Atmosphere & Symbolism:** - A **lone horse** nearby, breathing mist in the cold air, ready for escape. - The **glow of sunrise** behind him, casting long shadows—symbolizing both his doomed fate and enduring legacy. - Maybe a **kookaburra calling** in the distance or a **wallaby watching** from the bush, adding authenticity. ### **Artistic Style:** - **Realistic but cinematic**—think *The Proposition* (2005) mixed with classic Australian landscape paintings (like Tom Roberts or Frederick McCubbin). - **Soft focus on the mist**, sharp details on Ned’s armor and the textures of the bush. - **Warm vs. cool contrast**: The golden light vs. the lingering night chill. Would you like a **digital painting, photorealistic render, or a vintage-style illustration** melancholic and heroic Ned Kelly Tribute JDHampton + AI | Creative Alliance

8 months ago

From the mist he rises, a skeletal hand emerging from the shadows. Cloaked in darkness, the Reaper stands in a desolate, forsaken land. Ethereal mist swirls around his skeletal form, as the chains of fate wrap tightly around lost souls, pulling them toward the abyss. The air is filled with an eerie glow, casting long shadows over the barren, lifeless terrain. The scene is cinematic, dark fantasy with a gothic atmosphere, deep contrast lighting, and a sense of impending doom.

8 months ago

A **dark and macabre portrait**, depicting a **side-view of a twisted, abominable angel**, standing over a **terrified human**, its **massive, malformed form looming in the darkness**. The angel wields a **forbidding, ancient sword**, its **tip pressed against the ground**, exuding a sense of **inevitable doom**.

8 months ago

abyssopelagic heretic, sinister sly smile bubble escapade, doomed user, glitch art in oceanic 3d technicolor

6 months ago

A hyper-detailed, cinematic close-up of a silver-haired vampire woman emerging from a moonlit forest, her ruby-red eyes no longer burning with hunger, but softened by a forbidden longing. Her gleaming fangs peek through parted lips—not in a snarl, but a haunted smile of aching desire. The ancient, gnarled oaks behind her drip with shadow and silver light, ethereal moonbeams painting her porcelain skin and the delicate black lace of her gothic gown with a spectral glow. Intricate patterns cling to her form like whispers of forgotten elegance. One hand reaches out, trembling slightly, crimson nails glinting with the tension of a touch never taken. Volumetric fog coils around her slender silhouette, lit by the faint golden flicker of a dying ember—perhaps from the campfire of the mortal man who has unknowingly stolen her immortal heart. Emphasize rich chiaroscuro, romantic gloom, and the aching beauty of a creature torn between bloodlust and love. A gothic dark fantasy portrait of temptation, vulnerability, and doomed affection.

7 months ago

A surreal and hyperrealistic depiction of the White House. Donald Trump stands in front of the building, which is positioned dramatically within a swirling, cosmic vortex of fiery orange and deep indigo colors, resembling a black hole or wormhole. The sky is filled with celestial bodies and a starry background. The image has a vibrant color palette featuring deep reds, oranges, and blues.  Trump, larger than life, is rendered in realistic detail, and appears to be gesturing.  A red carpet stretches towards the vortex, and several figures, ncluding individuals in business suits, walk towards it. A sense of dramatic tension and impending doom permeates the scene.  Lush, vibrant flowerbeds surround the White House, creating a striking contrast with the otherworldly cosmic scene. The style is surreal, with elements of impressionism in the swirling celestial forces, but with hyperrealistic details in the figures and the White House itself. The image combines a political scene with cosmic imagery, creating an impactful visual narrative