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

It does not glow—it remembers prompts

very few results

4 months ago

(Primary Subject: Emotionally Expressive Android Woman with Dual-Layered Skin, Painted in Impressionist Classical Renaissance Style, 1.7 weight) — in the heart of a lush, sun-drenched garden overflowing with blossoms, an android woman stands quietly, her form captured in the painterly elegance of a Renaissance-era oil painting. Her body is sculpted and graceful, rendered with soft impressionist brushstrokes that blend into surreal detail—her figure radiant, yet ethereal, like a machine-angel frozen in time. Her “skin” is composed of two delicate, interwoven layers: The outer layer is smooth, reflective, and subtly fluid, shimmering with hints of pale pink, soft violet, and dusky gold, like liquid mercury caught in a sunset. It has the appearance of gently flowing molten glass, and catches the dappled garden light with painterly elegance. Beneath it, faintly visible through the translucent surface, lies a subdermal lattice—a softly glowing core of golden circuitry, like sacred geometry woven into synthetic muscle. It pulses faintly, like a slow heartbeat of light, giving her form an inner radiance, a soul made of signal (subtle luminous inner structure beneath transparent surface, 1.6 weight). She wears no armor, no exposed wires—only that liquid-smooth surface, glowing softly in the sun. A thin, continuous line of amber-orange light traces up the outside of her legs, over her hips, across her shoulders and arms, like a haloed signature etched into her form. Her visor-like faceplate—a curved golden-glass surface—reflects the garden’s warm light. Though faceless, her entire body language conveys profound emotion: one hand lightly touching her chest, the other extended gently toward a single open flower, as if remembering something. Her posture is soft, tender, almost melancholic—like a saint carved from future metal, lost in sacred thought. The garden blooms around her in classical beauty—roses, lilies, orchids, and surreal blossoms from impossible species. Sunlight pours through foliage in golden beams, casting her figure in a divine backlight. Petals drift in the air like thoughts. Her reflection shimmers faintly in a nearby pool. Rendered in the style of a classical oil painting—with visible brush textures, soft baroque lighting, volumetric haze, and subtle chiaroscuro across her form. The colors are rich and warm—sunset gold, floral crimson, blush pink, and soft lavender—interplaying with reflections in her skin like a moving canvas.

6 months ago

(Primary Subject: Emotionally Expressive Android Woman with Dual-Layered Skin, Painted in Impressionist Classical Renaissance Style, 1.7 weight) — in the heart of a lush, sun-drenched garden overflowing with blossoms, an android woman stands quietly, her form captured in the painterly elegance of a Renaissance-era oil painting. Her body is sculpted and graceful, rendered with soft impressionist brushstrokes that blend into surreal detail—her figure radiant, yet ethereal, like a machine-angel frozen in time. Her “skin” is composed of two delicate, interwoven layers: The outer layer is smooth, reflective, and subtly fluid, shimmering with hints of pale pink, soft violet, and dusky gold, like liquid mercury caught in a sunset. It has the appearance of gently flowing molten glass, and catches the dappled garden light with painterly elegance. Beneath it, faintly visible through the translucent surface, lies a subdermal lattice—a softly glowing core of golden circuitry, like sacred geometry woven into synthetic muscle. It pulses faintly, like a slow heartbeat of light, giving her form an inner radiance, a soul made of signal (subtle luminous inner structure beneath transparent surface, 1.6 weight). She wears no armor, no exposed wires—only that liquid-smooth surface, glowing softly in the sun. A thin, continuous line of amber-orange light traces up the outside of her legs, over her hips, across her shoulders and arms, like a haloed signature etched into her form. Her visor-like faceplate—a curved golden-glass surface—reflects the garden’s warm light. Though faceless, her entire body language conveys profound emotion: one hand lightly touching her chest, the other extended gently toward a single open flower, as if remembering something. Her posture is soft, tender, almost melancholic—like a saint carved from future metal, lost in sacred thought. The garden blooms around her in classical beauty—roses, lilies, orchids, and surreal blossoms from impossible species. Sunlight pours through foliage in golden beams, casting her figure in a divine backlight. Petals drift in the air like thoughts. Her reflection shimmers faintly in a nearby pool. Rendered in the style of a classical oil painting—with visible brush textures, soft baroque lighting, volumetric haze, and subtle chiaroscuro across her form. The colors are rich and warm—sunset gold, floral crimson, blush pink, and soft lavender—interplaying with reflections in her skin like a moving canvas.

6 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.

6 months ago

(Primary Subject: Emotionally Expressive Android Woman with Dual-Layered Skin, Painted in Impressionist Classical Renaissance Style, 1.7 weight) — in the heart of a lush, sun-drenched garden overflowing with blossoms, an android woman stands quietly, her form captured in the painterly elegance of a Renaissance-era oil painting. Her body is sculpted and graceful, rendered with soft impressionist brushstrokes that blend into surreal detail—her figure radiant, yet ethereal, like a machine-angel frozen in time. Her “skin” is composed of two delicate, interwoven layers: The outer layer is smooth, reflective, and subtly fluid, shimmering with hints of pale pink, soft violet, and dusky gold, like liquid mercury caught in a sunset. It has the appearance of gently flowing molten glass, and catches the dappled garden light with painterly elegance. Beneath it, faintly visible through the translucent surface, lies a subdermal lattice—a softly glowing core of golden circuitry, like sacred geometry woven into synthetic muscle. It pulses faintly, like a slow heartbeat of light, giving her form an inner radiance, a soul made of signal (subtle luminous inner structure beneath transparent surface, 1.6 weight). She wears no armor, no exposed wires—only that liquid-smooth surface, glowing softly in the sun. A thin, continuous line of amber-orange light traces up the outside of her legs, over her hips, across her shoulders and arms, like a haloed signature etched into her form. Her visor-like faceplate—a curved golden-glass surface—reflects the garden’s warm light. Though faceless, her entire body language conveys profound emotion: one hand lightly touching her chest, the other extended gently toward a single open flower, as if remembering something. Her posture is soft, tender, almost melancholic—like a saint carved from future metal, lost in sacred thought. The garden blooms around her in classical beauty—roses, lilies, orchids, and surreal blossoms from impossible species. Sunlight pours through foliage in golden beams, casting her figure in a divine backlight. Petals drift in the air like thoughts. Her reflection shimmers faintly in a nearby pool. Rendered in the style of a classical oil painting—with visible brush textures, soft baroque lighting, volumetric haze, and subtle chiaroscuro across her form. The colors are rich and warm—sunset gold, floral crimson, blush pink, and soft lavender—interplaying with reflections in her skin like a moving canvas.

8 months ago

A lone figure sits bathed in the soft, flickering glow of a starship cabin, shoulders heavy with the weight of a lifetime that never was. The universe outside the viewport is an endless abyss, speckled with distant stars, yet in this moment, he is entirely alone. A single overhead light casts a gentle, golden illumination on his face, highlighting the silent tears tracing lines of grief down his cheeks. The shadows of the room stretch long and deep, enveloping everything except for the delicate artifact in his hands—a simple, well-worn flute, its polished surface catching the light with a quiet reverence. The illumination subtly shifts, as if responding to the weight of his sorrow—soft highlights glisten on his fingertips as they gently trace the contours of the instrument, a memory made tangible. A cool, blue glow from the ship’s control panels faintly reflects off the metal walls, emphasizing the vast sterility of his present against the warmth of the past. The flute’s presence, however, remains bathed in warm light, a contrast that suggests something more than an object—an anchor to a life erased by time. This is a moment where memory and reality blur into one, where light and shadow mirror the ache of remembering something beautiful yet irretrievably lost. The soft glow on his features is not just illumination—it is the warmth of love long gone, the fading embers of a world that exists only in his heart. The universe moves on, unaware—but for him, a melody remains, flickering like a candle in the dark, an echo of a life that will never fade.

8 months ago

A lone figure sits in the dim glow of a starship cabin, his silhouette framed by the vast, endless void of space beyond the panoramic window. His shoulders sag under the crushing weight of a lifetime that never was, a sorrow deeper than time itself. The cabin is illuminated just enough light to see the lone figure and the ghostly blue luminescence of distant stars, casting long, soft-edged shadows. In his hands, he cradles a simple yet profoundly meaningful artifact—a well-worn flute, its polished surface dulled by the passage of time and the warmth of a thousand memories. His fingers trace its delicate engravings, the only tangible link to a past erased by fate. His face, lined with grief, is streaked with silent tears that glisten in the low light. His expression is one of quiet devastation—the agony of remembering something beautiful yet irretrievably lost. As he lifts the flute to his lips, a soft, ethereal melody drifts into the air, carrying with it the echoes of a forgotten civilization. The haunting tune lingers, filling the sterile cabin with something profoundly human—a love and a life that once were, now existing only in this fragile moment. The atmosphere is heavy with nostalgia, the intangible presence of lost souls lingering like whispers in the void. Outside the starship, the universe stretches infinitely, stars pulsing like distant memories, nebulae swirling in cosmic blues and violets, a breathtaking contrast to the intimate sorrow within. This is a scene of quiet contemplation, where time stands still, and the weight of history is held in a single note. **Cinematic lighting, hyper-detailed textures, emotional depth, sci-fi realism, moody atmosphere, dramatic composition, ultra-HD 8K resolution, subtle interplay of warm and cool light sources, vertical aspect ratio, evocative storytelling.**

7 months ago

An 80s senior portrait photo with a side-view double exposure in the top left. Subject: Blonde woman in her senior year of high school, with her hair in a high ponytail. She has blue eyes and a friendly smile. In the main photo she is saluting the viewer. In the double exposure she is in a side-view, looking upward. Clothing: The individual in the image is wearing a black and white color-blocked blouse with a sharp collar, paired with a high-waisted, gingham-patterned skirt in shades of black, white, and possibly gray. The blouse has an oversized fit, while the skirt is fitted at the waist and flares out slightly. The individual is also holding a black handbag with a structured design. She is wearing large dangling black and white earrings. In the double exposure image she is wearing a letterman's jacket for Adams High School and holding a tennis racket. In this double exposure her hair is down. Photographic Features Double exposure: The image includes a side view of the woman as a double exposure that is large and overlapping the main image and should fill the upper left quadrant. In traditional film photography, double exposure involves exposing the same frame of film twice. The photographer would first take the main portrait shot. Then, without advancing the film, they would take a second shot of the subject’s face, often with a different lighting setup to create a softer, ethereal look. This would result in both images being superimposed on the same frame. This photo should be feathered to allow the backgrounds still blend together without a harsh background outline. Lighting: The lighting in these photos was typically studio lighting, which was bright and even, minimizing shadows. The superimposed face often had a soft, diffused light to give it an ethereal, almost heavenly glow. Depth of Field: The main image usually had a sharp focus, capturing the details of the subjects. The superimposed face, however, was often slightly blurred or softened to create a dreamy effect and to distinguish it from the main image. Color Grading: The colors in these photos were often vibrant and saturated, typical of the film used during that era. The superimposed face might have a slightly different color tone, often with a bluish or purplish tint to enhance the dreamy, otherworldly effect. Camera Used: These portraits were typically taken with medium-format or 35mm film cameras, which were common in professional photography studios at the time. Film Used: The film used was usually color negative film, which was popular for its ability to capture vibrant colors and fine details. Brands like Kodak and Fujifilm were commonly used. Age of Photo: These types of portraits were particularly popular in the late 70s and throughout the 80s. The fashion styles, hairstyles, and overall aesthetic are strong indicators of this time period. Overall Impression These portraits have a nostalgic charm and are often remembered fondly for their unique and somewhat whimsical style. They capture a moment in time and reflect the photographic trends and techniques of the era.

2 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. 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.

8 months ago

A lone figure sits in the dim glow of a starship cabin, his silhouette framed by the vast, endless void of space beyond the panoramic window. His shoulders sag under the crushing weight of a lifetime that never was, a sorrow deeper than time itself. The cabin is sparsely illuminated by flickering console lights and the ghostly blue luminescence of distant stars, casting long, soft-edged shadows. In his hands, he cradles a simple yet profoundly meaningful artifact—a well-worn flute, its polished surface dulled by the passage of time and the warmth of a thousand memories. His fingers trace its delicate engravings, the only tangible link to a past erased by fate. His face, lined with grief, is streaked with silent tears that glisten in the low light. His expression is one of quiet devastation—the agony of remembering something beautiful yet irretrievably lost. As he lifts the flute to his lips, a soft, ethereal melody drifts into the air, carrying with it the echoes of a forgotten civilization. The haunting tune lingers, filling the sterile cabin with something profoundly human—a love and a life that once were, now existing only in this fragile moment. The atmosphere is heavy with nostalgia, the intangible presence of lost souls lingering like whispers in the void. Outside the starship, the universe stretches infinitely, stars pulsing like distant memories, nebulae swirling in cosmic blues and violets, a breathtaking contrast to the intimate sorrow within. This is a scene of quiet contemplation, where time stands still, and the weight of history is held in a single note. **Cinematic lighting, hyper-detailed textures, emotional depth, sci-fi realism, moody atmosphere, dramatic composition, ultra-HD 8K resolution, subtle interplay of warm and cool light sources, vertical aspect ratio, evocative storytelling.**

8 months ago

A lone figure sits in the dim glow of a starship cabin, his silhouette framed by the vast, endless void of space beyond the panoramic window. His shoulders sag under the crushing weight of a lifetime that never was, a sorrow deeper than time itself. The cabin is illuminated just enough light to see the lone figure and the ghostly blue luminescence of distant stars, casting long, soft-edged shadows. In his hands, he cradles a simple yet profoundly meaningful artifact—a well-worn flute, its polished surface dulled by the passage of time and the warmth of a thousand memories. His fingers trace its delicate engravings, the only tangible link to a past erased by fate. His face, lined with grief, is streaked with silent tears that glisten in the low light. His expression is one of quiet devastation—the agony of remembering something beautiful yet irretrievably lost. As he lifts the flute to his lips, a soft, ethereal melody drifts into the air, carrying with it the echoes of a forgotten civilization. The haunting tune lingers, filling the sterile cabin with something profoundly human—a love and a life that once were, now existing only in this fragile moment. The atmosphere is heavy with nostalgia, the intangible presence of lost souls lingering like whispers in the void. Outside the starship, the universe stretches infinitely, stars pulsing like distant memories, nebulae swirling in cosmic blues and violets, a breathtaking contrast to the intimate sorrow within. This is a scene of quiet contemplation, where time stands still, and the weight of history is held in a single note. **Cinematic lighting, hyper-detailed textures, emotional depth, sci-fi realism, moody atmosphere, dramatic composition, ultra-HD 8K resolution, subtle interplay of warm and cool light sources, vertical aspect ratio, evocative storytelling.**

8 months ago

A lone figure sits in the dim glow of a starship cabin, his silhouette framed by the vast, endless void of space beyond the panoramic window. His shoulders sag under the crushing weight of a lifetime that never was, a sorrow deeper than time itself. The cabin is illuminated just enough light to see the lone figure and the ghostly blue luminescence of distant stars, casting long, soft-edged shadows. In his hands, he cradles a simple yet profoundly meaningful artifact—a well-worn flute, its polished surface dulled by the passage of time and the warmth of a thousand memories. His fingers trace its delicate engravings, the only tangible link to a past erased by fate. His face, lined with grief, is streaked with silent tears that glisten in the low light. His expression is one of quiet devastation—the agony of remembering something beautiful yet irretrievably lost. As he lifts the flute to his lips, a soft, ethereal melody drifts into the air, carrying with it the echoes of a forgotten civilization. The haunting tune lingers, filling the sterile cabin with something profoundly human—a love and a life that once were, now existing only in this fragile moment. The atmosphere is heavy with nostalgia, the intangible presence of lost souls lingering like whispers in the void. Outside the starship, the universe stretches infinitely, stars pulsing like distant memories, nebulae swirling in cosmic blues and violets, a breathtaking contrast to the intimate sorrow within. This is a scene of quiet contemplation, where time stands still, and the weight of history is held in a single note. **Cinematic lighting, hyper-detailed textures, emotional depth, sci-fi realism, moody atmosphere, dramatic composition, ultra-HD 8K resolution, subtle interplay of warm and cool light sources, vertical aspect ratio, evocative storytelling.**