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

rotting prompts

very few results

8 months ago

(Spaghetti Western meets Hindu Mythology, Cinematic, Gritty, Mythic Americana, Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven-style storytelling, Hyperreal, Dust and Gunpowder, Sunset Over the Frontier) (Gritty Cinematic Western:1.8, Hindu Mythology Meets Old West:2.0, Dust & Heat Haze:1.6, Sunburnt Leather & Weathered Cloth:1.5, Volumetric Light Through Dust:1.4, Classic Spaghetti Western Composition:1.8) The frontier is vast, endless. The sun hangs low and swollen, a burning red eye sinking behind the jagged silhouette of the mountains, bleeding golden light across the dust-choked sky. A lone rider moves through the haze, his dark stallion kicking up a slow trail of dust, the sound of hooves muffled by the dry, cracked earth. Vishnu, the Divine Gunslinger, moves like a ghost through this godforsaken land, his presence a whisper on the wind, a warning before the storm. He is adorned in a weathered duster, its deep blue fabric threadbare yet regal, embroidered in golden Sanskrit that shifts and shimmers under the dying light. Beneath it, his celestial skin glows faintly, a blue so deep it seems carved from the twilight sky itself. His golden eyes burn like twin desert suns, reflecting the fire of the West, the violence of the frontier, the weight of justice balanced on the edge of a blade. From beneath his coat, his four arms rest with an unnatural stillness, each poised for retribution. One hand grips the Sudarshana Revolver, an ancient pistol forged from the molten core of a dying star, its barrel etched with the shifting symbols of the cosmos. Another holds a coiled lasso woven from the threads of fate, glowing with the light of constellations long dead. The third hand remains open, palm outward—a warning, or perhaps a blessing. The fourth clutches the eternal lotus, a reminder that even in this land of dust and death, something divine lingers. Behind him, the town of Black Hollow waits, a rotting wooden carcass of a town, its saloon doors swaying in the wind, the church bell rusted and long silent. Shadows move behind glassless windows, fear tightening in the chests of men who know their reckoning has come. The outlaws of this place have no gods, no law but steel and blood, and yet even they whisper his name. The wind shifts, carrying the scent of gunpowder and sagebrush, and in the distance, a gang of riders appear on the ridge, silhouetted against the sun. Their leader spits, grips his rifle, and laughs. "Ain't no man gets to play god out here," he sneers. The six-shooter spins once, slow, deliberate. A single breath. A moment stretched between eternity and the dust. Vishnu narrows his golden gaze beneath the wide brim of his hat. He speaks only once. "God don’t play, friend." Then the world moves like lightning, like judgment, like fate itself unfurling.

ElectricL
2 150

7 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

Nednut4362
1 110

3 months ago

Create an abstract painting where the cybernetic figure emerges from and decays into pure urban filth. The 3/4 pose should barely hold together, disintegrating into a maelstrom of caustic paint effects, chemical burns, and toxic waste. The pink hair should look like it's been dragged through hell - rendered as violent, contaminated streaks that appear to be actively decomposing, with areas where the paint bubbles and splits like festering wounds. Treat the canvas like an abandoned city wall - build up thick, crusty layers of media only to deliberately destroy them. The metallic bra and leather jacket should be buried under decades of grime, suggested only through traces of corroded metal and rotting leather visible beneath layers of industrial sludge. Add thick impasto areas that crack like dried mud, revealing diseased colors beneath. Create regions where multiple paint layers interact violently - separating, bleeding, and creating chemical reactions that eat through the surface. The cybernetic elements should look like they're actively decomposing - use techniques like acid etching, rust transfers, and actual material deterioration. Let paint thinner create unpredictable decay patterns. Include areas where metallic paint oxidizes into toxic blooms and where different media repel each other like oil and water, creating leprous textures. The background should feel like a toxic waste dump - incorporate actual dirt, rust, and urban debris into the paint. Use techniques that deliberately destroy the medium: oversaturate areas until the canvas rots, allow metallic elements to oxidize naturally, encourage paint to crack and flake. Add layers of grime using dry brushing with actual ash and dirt. Create effects that suggest chemical spills, acid rain damage, and industrial accidents through caustic color interactions and material decay. The color palette should feel diseased - contaminated pinks that turn gangrenous, metals oxidized to poisonous greens, blacks that break down into putrid browns. Every color should look like it's been soaked in toxic waste and left to rot. Build up texture with actual organic matter - coffee grounds, sand, rust - anything that adds real physical decay to the surface. The entire piece should look like it was created in a contaminated zone - intentionally damaged, corroded, and infected. The paint application should appear desperate and uncontrolled, as if the artist's tools were found in a junkyard. Let accidents and material failures become part of the piece - runs, drips, chemical reactions, and decomposition should all contribute to its apocalyptic aesthetic.

AkiraS
0 110