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

in the world prompts

about 5k 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

9 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.