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

rusted and peeling prompts

very few results

2 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.

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

5 months ago

Wide cinematic shot, taken from behind, in a vast, sun-scorched desert. A dilapidated, rusted bus stop bench is positioned facing the horizon, with the camera directly behind the bench and the seated characters, creating a full rear-view composition. Seated on the bench are seven characters — ALL WITH THEIR BACKS TO THE CAMERA, facing forward, looking into the distance. NO FACES VISIBLE. NO EYE CONTACT. – A Muslim in traditional attire – An Orthodox Jew with a black coat and hat – A Catholic nun in full habit – A Sikh man with turban and beard – A Buddhist monk in saffron robes – A morbidly obese Superman, cape tattered, dragging in the dust – A tired executive in a suit, holding a briefcase loosely by his side All appear weary, slouched, fatigued, in a state of silent resignation. Above the bench is a weathered, cracked metal sign, rusted and peeling. The text on the sign clearly reads in faded, hand-painted letters: "Nobody has made it out alive." The desert around them is vast and empty, the ground cracked, sun-bleached, with long shadows stretching behind the figures. The mood is still, surreal, symbolic, and filled with existential weight. BACK VIEW ONLY. FULLY REAR-FACING COMPOSITION. CAMERA BEHIND BENCH AND ALL CHARACTERS. Shot with Cooke lenses, ARRI Alexa sensor, in 8K ultra-detailed resolution, high dynamic range, golden hour lighting, with dramatic shadows, subtle film grain. Color grading inspired by Denis Villeneuve and Roger Deakins, evoking themes of loneliness, time, and quiet endurance.

5 months ago

Wide cinematic shot, taken from behind, in a vast, sun-scorched desert. A dilapidated, rusted bus stop bench is positioned facing the horizon, with the camera directly behind the bench and the seated characters, creating a full rear-view composition. Seated on the bench are seven characters — ALL WITH THEIR BACKS TO THE CAMERA, facing forward, looking into the distance. NO FACES VISIBLE. NO EYE CONTACT. – A Muslim in traditional attire – An Orthodox Jew with a black coat and hat – A Catholic nun in full habit – A Sikh man with turban and beard – A Buddhist monk in saffron robes – A morbidly obese Superman, cape tattered, dragging in the dust – A tired executive in a suit, holding a briefcase loosely by his side All appear weary, slouched, fatigued, in a state of silent resignation. Above the bench is a weathered, cracked metal sign, rusted and peeling. The text on the sign clearly reads in faded, hand-painted letters: "Nobody has made it out alive." The desert around them is vast and empty, the ground cracked, sun-bleached, with long shadows stretching behind the figures. The mood is still, surreal, symbolic, and filled with existential weight. BACK VIEW ONLY. FULLY REAR-FACING COMPOSITION. CAMERA BEHIND BENCH AND ALL CHARACTERS. Shot with Cooke lenses, ARRI Alexa sensor, in 8K ultra-detailed resolution, high dynamic range, golden hour lighting, with dramatic shadows, subtle film grain. Color grading inspired by Denis Villeneuve and Roger Deakins, evoking themes of loneliness, time, and quiet endurance. in the sign must say : "Nobody has made it out alive."