sacred decay prompts

2 months ago

Double exposure black and white photography of a woman’s face, solemn and ethereal, eyes half-closed as if caught between waking and warning. Her face merges with a surreal landscape — mountains cracked open into abysses, rivers of smoke, distant silhouettes of devils and angels battling in silence, wings torn and halos fractured. Liquified elements swirl behind her like melting frescoes — fragments of heaven and hell, celestial ruins dripping into scorched earth. The overall composition has a gothic visual language: heavy contrast, sacred decay, haunted light. Soft grain, vintage lens blur, cinematic 8K resolution, fine grayscale textures like decaying parchment. Atmospheric, spiritual, sorrowful. Barren trees and cathedral arches ghosting through the background like memories of judgment

1 month ago

Double exposure black and white photography of a face, solemn and ethereal, eyes half-closed as if caught between waking and warning. The face merges with a surreal landscape — mountains cracked open into abysses, rivers of smoke, distant silhouettes of devils and angels battling in silence, wings torn and halos fractured. Liquified elements swirl behind her like melting frescoes — fragments of heaven and hell, celestial ruins dripping into scorched earth. The overall composition has a gothic visual language: heavy contrast, sacred decay, haunted light. Soft grain, vintage lens blur, cinematic 8K resolution, fine grayscale textures like decaying parchment. Atmospheric, spiritual, sorrowful. Barren trees and cathedral arches ghosting through the background like memories of judgment

4 months ago

A cicada-human hybrid awakens in a forgotten vault beneath the city, having slept 17 years to decode a prophetic signal. Her skin peels with golden mesh, and her voice resonates in binary frequencies. Mechanical wings erupt from her spine, glitching the reality around her. Buildings bend as she walks — time distorts. The world holds its breath. High-frame surreal realism, particle-heavy FX, sacred decay visual tone, dreamcore-meets-cyberpunk.

28 days ago

cybernetic monk kneeling, glowing blue face, body (covered in rust, dirt and corroded metal, damaged cables and wires protruding from limbs, torn cloth and mechanical fragments, broken armor, worn surfaces, dirty synthetic skin:1.3), in left hand holding (a long rusty scepter with a glowing red blade:1.2), kneeling in (the ruins of a green-lit megastructure:1.2), sacred rot, polluted light, spiritual decay, hyperdetailed textures, sacropunk atmosphere

29 days ago

a female priestess, half biological, partialy robotic, with dreadlocks entangled with ribbed tubing, covered in patches of mold and corrosion , with (face engraved with sacred symbols:1.2), her (body partially made of rusted pipes, mold-covered cybernetic glowing green implants, and exposed mechanical components:1.2), (wearing heavily damaged and torn ceremonial dress that reveals ritual scars and sacred etchings on synthetic skin:1.2), (standing in front of a surreal, decaying post-apocalyptic city cowered in green mist, Beksinski inspiration), during a total solar eclipse, shadow halos cast behind her, cinematic lighting, ultra-detailed, oppressive sacred atmosphere, spiritual decay, forgotten rituals, divine silence, relics of devotion, mystical sorrow, inspired by Beksinski

5 months ago

(Primary Subject: Gigantic Bone-Crafted Spider-God in Subterranean Temple, 1.7 weight) — far below the known world, past layers of ash-fossil and silence, lies the Cathedral of Hollow Depths—a vast, bone-built cavern where a titanic arachnid creature, assembled entirely from the skeletal remains of extinct giants, sleeps in stillness. This is the Bone Spider: part deity, part weapon, part grief embodied. Its body spans a cathedral in width—eight skeletal legs twist like ribcages fused into spires, with joints of fossilized ivory and sinew-bound marrow. Its thorax is a tomb of whispering skulls, and from its open ribbed abdomen hangs a vast, silken tapestry woven from spinal cords and ghost threads. Ancient monastic figures have spent lifetimes adding to the tapestry, recording a single question: why does it still wait? A lone knight now descends the spiral bone stairway, their lantern casting flickering light through columns of femurs and vaulted ceilings made of petrified jawbones. Clutched in their gauntlet: a relic carved from the tooth of the first world-eater. This knight is not here to slay. They are here to ask the spider something. Something no one dares speak aloud. The atmosphere is hushed and holy. From the spider’s unmoving fangs drips liquid memory, collecting in stone basins etched with prayers. The air hums faintly, filled with psalms sung by deep-buried bone choirs. The architecture is Giger-esque fused with ancient cathedral design—organic, sacred, horrifyingly beautiful. Soft beams of bioluminescent green and faded amber pour from fractures in the cavern ceiling, creating volumetric shafts of sacred decay. The knight’s figure is dwarfed beneath the weight of silence and shadow, the Bone Spider looming like a sleeping god, its massive eye sockets hollow but aware. Rendered in dark cinematic realism, with richly detailed textures: bone porosity, decayed velvet, wet stone, silk-strand threads catching subtle glints of cold light. Subtle film grain, shallow depth-of-field, and burned edge vignetting evoke the look of forbidden 70s horror photography (sacred horror + visual dread, 1.4 weight).

3 months ago

The Final Embrace — a realistic, genderless human figure kneels alone before a colossal, faceless divine presence radiating blinding light. Their form begins to dissolve into golden dust, merging upward into a towering pillar of fire and consciousness. Surrounding them: a desolate, post-apocalyptic terrain of crumbling temple ruins, broken idols, and cracked earth beneath a deep red sky. The air is thick with silence and sacred dread. Red filter over the entire scene, casting long shadows and crimson glow. The atmosphere feels suspended in time — the moment before liberation. Hyperrealistic detail, soft focus and subtle grain, surreal decay, dreamlike horror in the style of Zdzisław Beksiński — unsettling, beautiful, and transcendental.--v 7

5 months ago

Silver threads of moonlight spill through the fractured rose-window, cascading like a celestial waterfall onto the ancient stone floor below. The beams cut through the misty haze, imbuing the chamber with an ethereal glow that feels both serene and unearthly. The altar, now bathed in the cool radiance, shimmers faintly, its intricate carvings catching the light and revealing cryptic patterns once lost to the shadows. The sarcophagi lining the walls take on an eerie majesty under the moon’s glow. Their stone surfaces gleam with a spectral sheen, the carved faces and symbols appearing almost alive in the interplay of light and shadow. The faint outlines of forgotten figures etched into the lids seem to emerge, as though whispering their silent stories into the nocturnal air. Threads of silver vine tracery glint like starlight caught in stone, amplifying their ghostly allure. Moonlit mist snakes along the ground, curling languidly over the bases of the sarcophagi, as if drawn to the soft luminescence. The towering columns reflect the pale light, their surfaces showing cracks and textures that speak of ancient decay, yet radiating an enduring strength. The muted greens and grays of the scene are softened, transformed into a palette of shimmering silvers and muted blues, suffusing the chamber with a tranquil, melancholic beauty. The stillness under the moonlight feels almost sacred, a moment suspended in time where the veil between the mortal and the eternal seems thin. It is a setting poised on the edge of revelation, inviting all who enter to bask in its haunting elegance and ponder the secrets that slumber within its stone guardians.

3 months ago

A decaying cathedral made of neural pathways floats in a sea of static. Shelves hold glowing thought-objects that were never fully born — ideas lost before humanity could think them. A caretaker made of antique typewriter parts and muscle fibers sorts them alphabetically by forgotten emotions. The sky rains clock hands. Tone: solemn, sacred, poetic.

5 months ago

Friendship is a sacred thread, woven with laughter, trust, and time—a bridge that stands through storms and shines in light. It is the whispered strength in weary hearts, the silent hand that lifts when hope departs. Like rivers meeting in endless embrace, true friends walk as one, no distance to chase. In joy, they dance; in sorrow, they stay, crafting love’s echoes that never decay. Through seasons that change and paths unknown, friendship remains—a love fully grown.