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

In one hand prompts

about 2k results

9 months ago

A dark, gritty comic-style illustration, rich with hand-drawn textures, heavy inking, and a worn, weathered aesthetic. On the jagged, desolate surface of the moon, three astronauts in scuffed, retrofuturistic red spacesuits sprint for their lives, kicking up clouds of lunar dust that trail behind them. Their sleek, Soviet-inspired spacesuits are dull and battered, with faded USSR insignias barely visible under scratches and grime. Each astronaut is armed, firing crude, makeshift weapons backward in desperation as they attempt to fend off their alien attackers. In the distance, an ominous alien spacecraft hovers above the lunar horizon, its massive, angular silhouette casting long shadows across the surface. Bright neon-green plasma bolts streak through the darkness, fired from the ship’s glowing, turret-like weapons. The plasma bolts illuminate the gritty scene in brief, blinding flashes, casting jagged shadows and reflecting off the astronauts' scratched visors. The composition is chaotic and dynamic, with the lead astronaut crouched and firing while the others sprint, their postures tense and frantic. One astronaut stumbles, his weapon raised as he looks back in horror at the attackers. The moon's surface is jagged and uneven, littered with sharp rocks, deep craters, and faint traces of long-forgotten alien ruins etched with strange, glowing glyphs. The alien ship is vast and angular, with faint lights along its hull giving it a menacing presence. The Earth looms faintly in the background, partially obscured by lunar dust and darkness. The atmosphere is tense and moody, dominated by muted greys, dusty reds, and bright flashes of neon green from the plasma fire. The illustration is gritty and imperfect, with visible hand-drawn lines, bold inking, and heavy shadows. The texture of the lunar dust and the weathered suits is palpable, creating a tactile, raw aesthetic. The scene feels alive with motion and desperation, capturing the chaotic action of a life-or-death struggle in a hostile, alien world

8 months ago

A dark, decayed factory steeped in dampness and neglect. Rows of broken, lifeless androids hang from chains and diagnostic cables, their battered forms suspended like relics of a forgotten era. Each android faces forward, their heads slumped and limbs dangling limply, as if gravity alone holds them in place. The androids are diverse—some humanoid with slender frames and fragmented synthetic skin, others industrial with exposed hydraulics, rusted plating, and shattered components. Many are missing limbs, their wires and cables hanging loosely, sparking faintly in the oppressive gloom. Among the rows, two androids stand out—their hands intertwined in a final act of connection before their power cells died. One is humanoid, its delicate features cracked and weathered, its synthetic skin peeling to reveal intricate, rusting frameworks. The other is industrial, bulkier, with heavier plating and exposed joints, its arm barely holding on by a tangle of wires. Their clasped hands emit a faint glow, flickering like dying embers, the last remnant of their shared existence. The factory is drenched in atmosphere. Thick haze and mist cling to every surface, illuminated by the weak, flickering glow of malfunctioning CRT screens and sparking cables. Dim red light spills from a cracked overhead lamp, casting diffuse shadows across the room. A faint, rhythmic drip echoes through the cavernous space, the sound amplified by the oppressive silence. A flickering sign above the rows reads: “ANDROID MULTI-PURPOSE FOUNDRY.” The foundry walls are lined with rusted, obsolete machinery and control panels. Pools of stagnant water collect on the floor, reflecting the faint, scattered light in jagged, broken patterns. Dust and smoke swirl in the air, cutting through the faint godrays that streak through shattered skylights, further obscured by the thick haze. The shadows of dangling chains and lifeless androids create eerie silhouettes on the mist-covered walls. The atmosphere is suffocatingly gritty, a testament to the decay of innovation. The androids stand as silent witnesses to a bygone era, their shattered forms a chilling reflection of the hubris and failure of their creators. The two holding hands, surrounded by rows of decaying machines, remain a quiet, haunting symbol of connection amidst the ruin.