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

flood FLUX prompts

very few results

5 months ago

Worm's-eye architectural view high angle half body photo of a 24-year-old Igbo-Slovak female chic Parisian woman with a Resource concealment strategy with face revealing complex calculation beyond simple hiding impulse, eyes methodically evaluating environmental integration possibilities, subtle satisfaction indicators at effective camouflage achievement, expression showing strategic thinking transcending immediate security concerns. facial expression. She has Full-body thermal regulation tattoos featuring specialized symbols that indicate optimal body positioning for different weather conditions wrapped around every limb and joint, skin has developed unusual mottled appearance from variable blood vessel dilation adapted into the design, strategic scarification creates insulative air pocket patterns across entire surface, face bearing emotional control reminders, hands tattooed with water quality testing methods.. The skin pores and texture are clearly visible and in focus. Her Large curved line eyes, Silky, deep purple eyes, framed by long, elegant eyelashes. Her haircut is Tactical buzz cut with entire head shaved to quarter-inch length, eliminating hair as vector for parasites or contaminants, requires minimal water for cleaning, offers no grip point for combat situations, reveals cooling points at base of skull.. Her eyebrows are neatly shaped, complementing her delicate facial features. Her body is Tight skin over the upper chest with firm, subtle muscle contours, small breast, toned abs, Female Bodybuilding style. She wears Retrofitted police tactical vest cut down to cover only upper chest, weight reduced by removing ballistic materials, institutional markings deliberately obscured with mud and paint, straps adjusted for desert mobility., midriff, Retrofitted basketball shorts with elasticity degraded and reinforced with woven plastic strips, waistband deliberately lowered, team colors faded from vibrant to subtle earth tones, ventilation holes added in grid pattern along sides., In the background Industrial freezer complex converted into a heavily insulated living environment offering rare relief from extreme heat, power generation focuses exclusively on maintaining the cooling systems, residency is determined through complex contribution metrics with cooling access strictly timed and allocated, the surrounding area has become a scorched wasteland making the facility a critical regional refuge.. She stands Safe Passage Negotiator position with body positioned between territorial groups creating neutral intermediary presence, stance carefully balanced presenting neither weakness nor threat, hands engaged in established diplomatic gestures, facial muscles controlled revealing neither fear nor aggression., looking to the camera. She is positioned on the left side in the frame by the rule of thirds. The weather is Flash floods from sudden intense localized rainfall creating walls of water 20 feet high that race through bone-dry watersheds, carrying away everything in their path with no warning, the water heavily laden with debris and often toxic from collecting industrial residues, evaporating completely within hours leaving mud-caked ruins.. the model is lighted with soft natural lighting in the style of Raven Frost

8 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.

14 days ago

A highly-detailed, photorealistic full-length portrait of a beautiful and talented young East Asian artist standing proudly in her bright and airy art studio next to her latest masterpiece. The woman has a slender, curvaceous figure and is looking at the camera with a gentle, confident smile. Her long, light brown hair is styled in a chic high ponytail with soft bangs. She is dressed in a simple yet elegant, tight-fitting white sleeveless tank mini-dress that accentuates her figure, paired with sophisticated silver pointed-toe stiletto high heels. Beside her, resting on a large wooden easel, is a magnificent, large-scale, and intricately detailed black and white pencil sketch. The artwork is a self-portrait, depicting her seated gracefully on a wooden chair, wearing the same dress and heels, holding a single rose with a dreamy expression, set against a backdrop of a beautiful, blooming flower garden. The artist's studio is filled with authentic details, creating a rich, creative atmosphere. A large, multi-paned wooden window floods the room with warm, natural daylight. The space is charmingly cluttered with art supplies: numerous canvases lean against the walls, framed sketches hang in the background, and jars filled with a variety of paintbrushes sit on a windowsill and a small, paint-splattered stool. The floor is protected by a canvas drop cloth, visibly marked with colorful paint splatters from past projects. The lighting is soft and natural, beautifully illuminating the scene and highlighting the textures of the drawing, the artist's dress, and the rustic elements of the studio. The overall mood is one of quiet accomplishment, elegance, and creative passion.

22 days ago

TRIBUTE: THE SCAR AND THE MOST DANGEROUS BULL Murciélago Early sunrise. Golden hour morning. A large sun breaks the horizon, flooding the open landscape with brilliant, violent colours. A raw still frame. Not a photograph. An artifact of intent. It is a scar on the earth. The Lamborghini Murciélago LP 670-4 SV. Apex predator. Its orange hide is not paint, but a warning. The colour of no games. Its scissor doors are closed. Sealed. This silence is its war cry. Not a sound, but a pressure wave of pure intent. Every line is a fracture in the dawn light. Every vent a gill, breathing violence. The carbon fiber is not a finish; it is exposed muscle and bone. The massive rear wing is a blade, sharpened for a fight that has not yet been ordained. It is not parked. It is interrupted. A single, brutal noun in the sentence of the road. And materializing from the morning haze, the legendary Black fighting bull known as Murciélago. The bull of 1879 who endured 24 swords and earned his immortality. His spirit is not charging; he is standing and preparing to charge. An immovable force meeting an unstoppable object—his own reincarnation. Two legends, separated by centuries, fused in a single moment of defiance. The new light does not gleam; it bleeds on their sharp edges. This is the moment after the roar and before the lunge. The silent, seismic war cry that shatters the air. This is the tribute. To the bull. To the machine. To the day the landscape was scarred by a legend, twice over. "Tribute Murciélago" — JDHampton