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

breathing fire prompts

very few results

8 months ago

A colossal, ancient tower rises endlessly into the storm-wracked sky, its blackened stone walls jagged and monolithic, as if carved by forgotten gods. The tower stretches upward with impossible scale, piercing through the heavens themselves, its summit vanishing into churning, thunderous clouds. Around the tower’s foundation, the earth trembles and fractures—fiery veins of molten orange light seep through the cracks like wounds in the very fabric of the world, casting a sinister, flickering glow against the weathered stone. At the base of the tower lies the remnants of a once-mighty wall, a colossal gate now reduced to crumbling ruin. Though shattered and decayed, the gate still exudes power, its shattered arches adorned with intricate carvings of twisted demons and forgotten gods, their faces frozen in expressions of torment and rage. Jagged, black iron spikes jut from the stone, some broken, others slick with the glow of embers drifting through the thick, sulfurous air. The gate yawns open like a maw, and the darkness beyond seems to pulse and breathe—an ominous passage leading into the depths of hell itself. The landscape surrounding the tower is a barren, scorched wasteland. Twisted rock formations claw upward like skeletal fingers, shrouded in drifting mists that glow faintly with the light of unseen fires. Patches of smoke rise lazily from fissures in the earth, and small, flickering flames dance atop scattered braziers—unearthly fires that refuse to die. The wind howls through the desolation, carrying with it whispers and distant screams, as though the very land resents the presence of intruders. Above, the sky churns violently. Dark clouds swirl in a massive vortex centered around the tower, lit from within by bursts of electric blue and crimson lightning that tear through the heavens, illuminating the tower’s grotesque carvings and dark reliefs. Shadows dance and warp across its surface, giving the impression that the stone itself is alive, writhing with an ancient, malevolent energy. The atmosphere crackles with power, as if the boundary between worlds grows thin in this accursed place. In the distance, at the edge of the ruined path leading to the gate, a lone figure stands, cloaked in black and dwarfed by the tower’s immeasurable size. The figure’s silhouette is sharp against the fiery glow emanating from the cracked earth, their head tilted upward as they stare at the monstrous tower with a mixture of awe and dread. A faint wind pulls at their cloak, adding a sense of motion to the scene, as though the very world pushes them toward their inevitable fate. The color palette is dramatic and vivid: deep, shadowy blacks and cold grays dominate the stone, contrasted by fiery oranges and molten reds that pulse like a heartbeat through the earth. The sky above glows with dark blues and sickly purples, pierced by streaks of violent, crackling lightning. Reflective pools of molten light shimmer against the tower’s base, while faint embers drift through the air like dying stars, caught in the gravity of this immense, profane structure. Every detail—every crack, carving, and glowing fissure—breathes with life and dread, as though the tower itself is aware of those who dare gaze upon it.

7 months ago

A colossal battle-hardened dragon, its shiny black scales glowing faintly with pulses of purple, fiery orange, and ember-red light (2.0) from beneath, moves with terrifying energy, exhaling a fluid torrent of molten fire. The dragon’s massive head is tilted to the side, its jaws wide open, revealing razor-sharp teeth through which liquid fire flows like less viscous lava (2.0). The molten fire glows intensely with intertwined hues of purple, orange, and ember-red, streaming from its mouth in a steady, glowing cascade. The fire pools and flows across the scorched earth, creating glowing rivers that hiss and crackle as they spread, leaving molten patches in their wake. Around its open jaws, the air ripples and distorts visibly (1.9) from the immense heat, creating a mirage-like effect that warps the surrounding light. The dragonrider, a commanding figure in a deep purple cloak with aquamarine embroidery (1.8), leans back in her battle-worn saddle, gripping the reins tightly with both hands as the dragon thrashes in anticipation of battle. Her posture is strained but determined, her golden eyes glowing softly like embers (2.0), perfectly mirroring the molten hues of her mount. Her tattered cloak flutters wildly in the storm-like wind created by the dragon’s immense, muscular movements, adding drama to the scene. The dragon’s massive wings, veined with glowing patterns of fiery purple and orange, beat with immense power, scattering ash and embers in chaotic swirls. Its claws, jagged and scarred from countless battles, tear into the cracked and glowing earth, sending shards of molten rock flying. The glow beneath its scales pulses in rhythm with its breath, emphasizing the sheer energy coursing through the beast. The environment is dark and ominous, lit only by the steady, glowing flow of molten fire and the faint beams of sunlight piercing the smoke-filled sky. The battlefield is alive with detail: swirling ash, glowing embers, and molten rivers that snake through the scorched earth (1.9). The surrounding forest is shrouded in shadow, its twisted trees silhouetted against the faint purple and orange glow of the fiery cascades. The scene is brought to life with volumetric lighting, highlighting the interplay of fiery tones against the muted darkness of the environment. The fluid fire transitions smoothly between its glowing hues, with anti-banding measures ensuring seamless gradients and realistic color blending. This moment captures the raw, untamed power of the dragon and the unyielding resolve of its rider, united against the chaos of battle

6 months ago

Freddie Mercury, the iconic frontman of Queen, stands on stage, a towering figure of energy and charisma, commanding the attention of a vast, roaring crowd. The stadium is packed with tens of thousands of fans, all of them shouting, clapping, and singing in unison. The air is thick with anticipation as the lights dim, and suddenly, a single spotlight illuminates Freddie at the center of the stage. Dressed in his signature white tank top, tight denim jeans, and leather gloves, Freddie’s presence is electric. His perfectly styled mustache and short, slicked-back hair add to the aura of rock-star coolness. The glow of the stage lights bounces off his sweat-soaked skin as he moves with wild abandon, each gesture exuding confidence and passion. The spotlight catches the gleam of his jewelry—his bold, gold rings and the gleaming cross around his neck—a symbol of his unique, unmatchable style. As the music swells, Freddie grabs the microphone stand with one hand and raises it above his head, as if summoning the crowd to respond. His voice rings out, clear and powerful, effortlessly reaching every corner of the massive arena. The notes seem to float through the air, perfectly in tune with the energy around him, as his voice soars, cracking with emotion, then dipping into a smooth falsetto. He’s a master at connecting with the audience, drawing them into every note, every lyric. His eyes are wide, intense, and filled with fire. There’s an almost magnetic pull to him, making it feel as if he’s performing for each person in the crowd, despite the sea of faces stretching out before him. With every beat, Freddie’s body moves in sync with the music. He’s a dancer, a showman, his body language as expressive as his voice. He twirls and spins across the stage, one minute flinging himself toward the front edge, arms outstretched as if embracing the adoration, and the next, he’s crouching low, creating a moment of intimacy with the audience. His energy never falters—his performance is a whirlwind of movement and emotion. The band behind him—Brian May, Roger Taylor, and John Deacon—form the perfect backdrop, but it’s Freddie who is the undeniable focal point. His interactions with the audience are playful and commanding at the same time. He encourages them to sing along, making eye contact with fans in the front rows, pulling them into the performance with a smile, a wink, or a raised hand. As the song reaches its peak, Freddie stands center stage, his arms spread wide, reveling in the rush of sound and the collective power of the crowd’s voice. His expression is one of pure joy and liberation. Every second on stage feels like he’s giving everything he has—his voice, his body, his heart—and in return, the crowd erupts, a unified roar of pure love and admiration. It's a moment where time seems to slow, and Freddie, in all his theatrical glory, is not just performing a song, but offering a piece of himself to the world, leaving the crowd mesmerized, breathless, and forever in awe of his incredible talent. The stage lights pulse in time with the music, casting dramatic shadows and highlighting his every movement. Freddie’s face reflects the intensity of his performance—his brows furrowed in concentration one moment, then breaking into a wide grin as he basks in the crowd’s cheers. There’s a palpable sense of connection between him and the audience, an almost unspoken understanding that they are experiencing something special, something transcendent. As the song ends, the crowd erupts into deafening applause, chanting his name, but Freddie isn’t done. He takes a brief moment, breathing deeply, and then throws himself into the next song, ready to give them even more; 8k, intricate detail, photorealistic, realistic light, wide angle, kinkfolk photography, A+D architecture

6 months ago

(Spaghetti Western meets Hindu Mythology, Cinematic, Gritty, Mythic Americana, Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven-style storytelling, Hyperreal, Dust and Gunpowder, Sunset Over the Frontier) (Gritty Cinematic Western:1.8, Hindu Mythology Meets Old West:2.0, Dust & Heat Haze:1.6, Sunburnt Leather & Weathered Cloth:1.5, Volumetric Light Through Dust:1.4, Classic Spaghetti Western Composition:1.8) The frontier is vast, endless. The sun hangs low and swollen, a burning red eye sinking behind the jagged silhouette of the mountains, bleeding golden light across the dust-choked sky. A lone rider moves through the haze, his dark stallion kicking up a slow trail of dust, the sound of hooves muffled by the dry, cracked earth. Vishnu, the Divine Gunslinger, moves like a ghost through this godforsaken land, his presence a whisper on the wind, a warning before the storm. He is adorned in a weathered duster, its deep blue fabric threadbare yet regal, embroidered in golden Sanskrit that shifts and shimmers under the dying light. Beneath it, his celestial skin glows faintly, a blue so deep it seems carved from the twilight sky itself. His golden eyes burn like twin desert suns, reflecting the fire of the West, the violence of the frontier, the weight of justice balanced on the edge of a blade. From beneath his coat, his four arms rest with an unnatural stillness, each poised for retribution. One hand grips the Sudarshana Revolver, an ancient pistol forged from the molten core of a dying star, its barrel etched with the shifting symbols of the cosmos. Another holds a coiled lasso woven from the threads of fate, glowing with the light of constellations long dead. The third hand remains open, palm outward—a warning, or perhaps a blessing. The fourth clutches the eternal lotus, a reminder that even in this land of dust and death, something divine lingers. Behind him, the town of Black Hollow waits, a rotting wooden carcass of a town, its saloon doors swaying in the wind, the church bell rusted and long silent. Shadows move behind glassless windows, fear tightening in the chests of men who know their reckoning has come. The outlaws of this place have no gods, no law but steel and blood, and yet even they whisper his name. The wind shifts, carrying the scent of gunpowder and sagebrush, and in the distance, a gang of riders appear on the ridge, silhouetted against the sun. Their leader spits, grips his rifle, and laughs. "Ain't no man gets to play god out here," he sneers. The six-shooter spins once, slow, deliberate. A single breath. A moment stretched between eternity and the dust. Vishnu narrows his golden gaze beneath the wide brim of his hat. He speaks only once. "God don’t play, friend." Then the world moves like lightning, like judgment, like fate itself unfurling.

7 months ago

A colossal battle-hardened dragon, its shiny black scales glowing faintly with pulses of purple, fiery orange, and ember-red light (2.0) from beneath, moves with terrifying energy, exhaling a fluid torrent of molten fire. The dragon’s massive head is tilted to the side, its jaws wide open, revealing razor-sharp teeth through which liquid fire flows like less viscous lava (2.0). The molten fire glows intensely with intertwined hues of purple, orange, and ember-red, streaming from its mouth in a steady, glowing cascade. The fire pools and flows across the scorched earth, creating glowing rivers that hiss and crackle as they spread, leaving molten patches in their wake. Around its open jaws, the air ripples and distorts visibly (1.9) from the immense heat, creating a mirage-like effect that warps the surrounding light. The dragonrider, a commanding figure in a deep purple cloak with aquamarine embroidery (1.8), leans back in her battle-worn saddle, gripping the reins tightly with both hands as the dragon thrashes in anticipation of battle. Her posture is strained but determined, her golden eyes glowing softly like embers (2.0), perfectly mirroring the molten hues of her mount. Her tattered cloak flutters wildly in the storm-like wind created by the dragon’s immense, muscular movements, adding drama to the scene. The dragon’s massive wings, veined with glowing patterns of fiery purple and orange, beat with immense power, scattering ash and embers in chaotic swirls. Its claws, jagged and scarred from countless battles, tear into the cracked and glowing earth, sending shards of molten rock flying. The glow beneath its scales pulses in rhythm with its breath, emphasizing the sheer energy coursing through the beast. The environment is dark and ominous, lit only by the steady, glowing flow of molten fire and the faint beams of sunlight piercing the smoke-filled sky. The battlefield is alive with detail: swirling ash, glowing embers, and molten rivers that snake through the scorched earth (1.9). The surrounding forest is shrouded in shadow, its twisted trees silhouetted against the faint purple and orange glow of the fiery cascades. The scene is brought to life with volumetric lighting, highlighting the interplay of fiery tones against the muted darkness of the environment. The fluid fire transitions smoothly between its glowing hues, with anti-banding measures ensuring seamless gradients and realistic color blending. This moment captures the raw, untamed power of the dragon and the unyielding resolve of its rider, united against the chaos of battle