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

sterile prompts

very few results

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 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.

2 months ago

<lora:2941998:1.0> ohwx man A rugged built man slick back black hair and a short trimmed black beard, golden rims black sunglasses [EXT. RUINED STREET - NIGHT] - Cinematic, gritty, rain-slicked concrete. Flickering emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows. JOHN CONNOR (16) stands powerfully amidst the decay. He's wearing a dark grey, scuffed, athletic sneaker. He's also wearing dark blue jeans – faded and ripped, the denim worn thin in places. He's wearing a dark grey, slightly worn, multi-pocketed military-style jacket. Beneath it, a dark grey, long-sleeved t-shirt, slightly faded and worn. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His hair is short, choppy, and dark brown – deliberately messy and uneven. His expression is a mixture of grim determination and cold, simmering anger. Rain plasters his dark hair to his forehead. The background is filled with the skeletal remains of machinery and shattered windows. Focus: John Connor's intense gaze, the texture of his clothing, the palpable atmosphere of urban decay and suppressed rebellion. [SLOW ZOOM] - Dramatic lighting, volumetric lighting, hyperrealistic, 8k, cinematic, photorealistic, highly detailed, moody, apocalyptic, dystopian, rebellious, defiant. Style: Greg Rutkowski, Simon Stålenhag, Blade Runner. Negative prompt: happy, smiling, clean, bright, sterile, idealized, romantic, cartoon, anime. num_images=4 negative_prompt= seed=344362715 steps= cfg_scale= controlnet= input_image_url= mask_image_url= denoising_strength= controlnet_conditioning_scale= controlnet_txt2img=false super_resolution=true inpaint_faces=true face_correct=false film_grain=false face_swap=false hires_fix=false backend_version=0 ar=1:1 scheduler=euler_a color_grading= use_lpw=false w=896 h=1152 style=Cinematic tune_id=1504944