A sample prompt of what you can find in this page
Prompt by Nednut4362

Within the crack prompts

very few results

5 months ago

A powerful fully topless with, her breasts painted with blood, (witch:1.5) with (jet-black hair:1.4), her hair whipping violently in the chaotic winds, stands at the center of a (vertical spiraling vortex of fire:1.5), rising from the ground like a colossal (upright Twister ice cream:1.4). The unholy flames are (blue:1.3) and (purple:1.3), twisting and crackling as they encircle her in dense, spiraling coils, their glow casting intense, flickering shadows across her form and the scorched ground beneath her feet. Her eyes glow faintly white, rolled subtly back in her head, adding a terrifying and otherworldly aura to her appearance. The glow is faint, almost as if the light emanates from deep within her, intensifying her connection to the destructive forces she wields. Her expression is one of intense focus, her furrowed brows and parted lips showing the strain of channeling such immense power. She wears a (sheer black dress:1.6) with (oversized, flowing sleeves:1.5) that billow dramatically in the vortex’s winds. One side of her dress has come undone, sliding down her shoulder in the frenzy, revealing a subtle hint of one breast, as though the raw energy of her power has caused her appearance to become as chaotic as the firestorm she commands. The fabric clings lightly to her body in places, accentuating her curves while maintaining a sense of mystery and elegance. The dress flows dynamically in the swirling wind, twisting and fluttering as if alive, amplifying the sense of motion and intensity. She grips a (wand carved from a human femur:1.6), the handle adorned with (skeleton fingers:1.4) gripping the bone tightly, as though channeling her unholy power. Around her waist, a (rope belt:1.4) hangs loosely, adorned with (shrunken heads:1.7), their leathery faces twisted in agony, their grotesque forms reminiscent of the ceremonial work of Jivaroan tribes. The heads sway slightly in the vortex, their eerie stillness contrasting with the wild motion of the flames. The ground beneath her feet is scorched and cracked, glowing faintly with embers. Scattered (withered skulls and incomplete bones:1.3) lie among the charred earth, blending seamlessly into the apocalyptic scene. The (vertical vortex of fire:1.5) rises around her, twisting upward in a dense, hypnotic spiral. The flames pulse with chaotic energy, their intertwined hues of purple and blue casting (volumetric light:1.4) through the smoky, ash-filled air. The atmosphere is alive with glowing embers, drifting ash, and the faint echoes of crackling flames, creating a scene of raw, unrelenting power and destruction.

ElectricL
2 160

9 months ago

(masterpiece:1.5), (cinematic lighting:1.4), (8k, fine art:1.4), (volumetric light:1.5), (dynamic shadows:1.4), (realistic skin texture:1.5), (ethereal atmosphere:1.5) A witch with jet-black hair stands at the center of a spiraling vortex of unholy fire, its colors glowing in deep purple and electric blue. The flames twist and intertwine like the patterns of a Twister ice cream, encircling her in dense, fiery coils. The unholy flames rise in spirals, forming a dynamic, three-dimensional inferno that dances chaotically yet remains contained within the vortex. She stands in the eye of the storm, untouched by the raging inferno, her bone wand held with an aura of commanding power. The wand glows faintly with otherworldly runes that match the fiery hues. Her eyes are closed, her expression serene and fearless, as though communing with a dark force that fuels the storm. The flames radiate intense light, casting sharp highlights and complex shadows across her pale skin, emphasizing every curve and detail with realistic subsurface scattering. Embers and sparks float in the air around her, creating a chaotic but mesmerizing interplay of motion and light. The background is consumed in darkness, emphasizing the vortex's glowing presence. The storm's flames illuminate the scorched ground beneath her, and the faint volumetric haze enhances the sense of depth and mystique. The vortex spirals upward into the void, its twisting, fiery tendrils suggesting a connection to a higher, malevolent realm. Her robes are tattered and flowing, whipping around her in the intense heat and wind generated by the flames, adding to the dynamic and apocalyptic feel of the scene. Her stance is strong and unyielding, her head slightly tilted upward, embodying both elegance and untouchable power. The unholy flames twist and crackle as they encircle her in dense, spiraling coils, beginning with orange and red fire near the ground and transitioning to deep blue and electric purple as they climb higher, their glow casting flickering shadows across her form. Her expression is serious and strained, her head slightly turned to the side, her furrowed brow and parted lips conveying the immense effort required to channel such destructive power. She wears a sheer black dress with oversized, flowing sleeves that billow dramatically in the vortex’s winds. One side of the dress has slipped down her shoulder in the chaos, accentuating her curves while revealing the curve of her breast and adding a sense of raw energy and intimacy. The dress twists and flutters dynamically, amplifying the scene’s sense of motion. She grips a wand carved from a human femur, the handle adorned with skeleton fingers gripping tightly as though alive with unholy energy. Around her waist, a rope belt adorned with shrunken heads sways lightly in the vortex’s wind, their grotesque, leathery faces twisted in eternal agony. The ground beneath her feet is scorched and cracked, glowing faintly with embers. Scattered withered skulls and incomplete bones lie among the charred earth, blending seamlessly into the apocalyptic scene. In the distance behind her, partially obscured by the flickering flames, hanged bodies dangle upside down from their feet, their silhouettes faint and distorted by the heat of the vortex. The eerie sight adds a macabre depth to the atmosphere, their forms barely visible through the haze and unholy fire. The vortex rises upward, dense and hypnotic, its chaotic motion pulsing with energy, casting volumetric light through the smoky, ash-filled air. The atmosphere is alive with glowing embers, drifting ash, and the faint echoes of crackling flames. The entire scene exudes raw, unrelenting power and destruction, with the witch at its center as the embodiment of chaos and terror.

ElectricL
2 140

6 months ago

An award-winning oil painting masterpiece of gothic horror, drenched in dread and decay, depicting a deeply disturbing, broken antique doll abandoned in the rotting attic of a long-forgotten house. The doll sits slumped against a crumbling wooden beam, its body shattered in places—one arm missing, porcelain skull cracked wide open to reveal the hollow black within. Jagged fractures run down its face like veins, and from its single remaining eye, a glassy stare glints with unnatural awareness. Its dress, once delicate lace, hangs in tatters—stained with water damage, soot, and something darker. Mold creeps across the fabric in blotches of sickly green and grey. Strands of coarse hair cling to its scalp, damp and matted. A faint trail of something red and dry streaks down its chin, and its grin—half-formed, half-split—is too wide, too human. The room around it is soaked in dampness and decay. The wallpaper peels in curled sheets, revealing blackened, mold-covered boards beneath. The ceiling sags with rot, and rainwater drips slowly from a rusted pipe in the corner, pooling into a warped floorboard that has split open like a wound. The light is minimal—just a faint, sickly greenish glow leaking through a broken window veiled with grime, casting long shadows that twist unnaturally. The palette is dank and heavy—deep, desaturated hues of mildew green, rotting wood brown, ashen grey, and blood-maroon. The brushwork is thick, expressive, and moody, every stroke enhancing the feeling of moist air, silence, and a presence just beyond the frame. The overall effect is suffocating and magnetic—a visual whisper from the darker corners of memory and imagination. A chilling, unforgettable oil masterpiece—where the doll doesn’t just sit, but lingers

Nednut4362
1 82

8 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
1 120

5 months ago

(colossal skull forged from thousands of anguished, contorted skulls:1.3) looms in a storm-darkened, apocalyptic sky, its empty eye sockets glowing with malevolent crimson light, casting eerie illumination across a shattered, barren landscape. From its gaping maw, a torrent of molten fire flows slowly—white-hot at the core, surrounded by searing orange and blood-red streaks, alive with humanoid spectral figures writhing in torment, their ghostly forms reaching, stretching as if trying to escape the flames. As the fire cascades down, it strikes the earth with molten impact, forming creeping rivers of lava that crack the ground, igniting rock fractures, and causing violent tremors. Sparks, embers, and ash spiral into the air amid flickers of volumetric heat distortion. Overhead, dark clouds churn, reacting to the infernal blaze, while faint lightning pulses in the distance. Ambient audio: the low rumble of distant thunder rolls continuously in the background, punctuated by occasional sharp lightning cracks. Beneath it, an unsettling layer of whispering voices drifts with the embers—inaudible yet unmistakable—hinting at lost souls and forbidden knowledge. Camera motion: slow dolly-in toward the burning skull, steady tension-building pace; low tracking shot across crumbling lava-riven terrain, passing through drifting ash and smoke. Spectral figures swirl within the fire, some gliding upward, others consumed. Shot in IMAX format, using Leica Summilux-C lenses, shallow depth of field, ultra-contrast lighting, film grain, rendered in 8K photorealism, dark high-fantasy cinematic tone.

ElectricL
1 58