shame prompts

3 months ago

I, I will be king And you, you will be queen Though nothing will drive them away We can beat them, just for one day We can be heroes, just for one day And you, you can be mean And I, I'll drink all the time 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact Yes we're lovers, and that is that Though nothing will keep us together We could steal time just for one day We can be heroes for ever and ever What d'you say? I, I wish you could swim Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim Though nothing, nothing will keep us together We can beat them, for ever and ever Oh we can be Heroes, just for one day I, I will be king And you, you will be queen Though nothing will drive them away We can be Heroes, just for one day We can be us, just for one day I, I can remember (I remember) Standing, by the wall (by the wall) And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads) And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall) And the shame, was on the other side Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever Then we could be Heroes, just for one day We can be Heroes We can be Heroes We can be Heroes Just for one day We can be Heroes We're nothing, and nothing will help us Maybe we're lying, then you better not stay But we could be safer, just for one day Oh-oh-oh-ohh, oh-oh-oh-ohh, just for one day

3 months ago

A ruined amphitheater lies open beneath an eternal golden sky—thick with ash, glowing with the last light of truth. The air shimmers with heat and memory. At its heart, a woman stands alone on the cracked stone stage, barefoot, powerful, broken and whole. Her skin is sun-kissed bronze, streaked with dirt and sweat. A deep red ceremonial robe hangs from one shoulder, torn at the hem, golden embroidery catching the light like embers refusing to die. Her long black hair clings to her damp neck and spine, framing her face—eyes fierce, tear-stained, unblinking. A cracked porcelain mask lies at her feet, forgotten. Around her, translucent specters crowd the amphitheater’s crumbling tiers—echoes of past selves, ancestors, lost lovers—half-there and flickering like damaged film. They watch silently, reverently. The woman breathes in, slow and defiant, her chest rising with the weight of every lie she’s shed. Rays of golden light pierce the dust, cutting across her body like revelation. Her hands are open at her sides, fingers trembling—not with fear, but readiness. The gold cannot be hidden from anymore. It’s in her. It is her. In this breathless moment, she stands between exposure and exodus, between shame and fire, and the world dares to watch. Ultra-realistic. Cinematic music-video style. Raw, radiant, symbolic. Emotionally drenched in reckoning and rebirth.

9 months ago

Hyper realistic image with a wide-angle view of an opulent, modern restroom in a high-end restaurant. Warm, low lighting softly illuminates the space, reflecting off polished marble floors, intricately veined in white and gray. Gilded details accent the mirror’s frame, the faucet fixtures, and the subtle inlays on the walls. The woman from before stands in a large, ornate door, her entire body visible from head to toe. She wears a sleek, a short black evening gown with a plunging neckline, the dress’s fabric shimmering under the discreet lights. Her posture feels tense and slightly hunched inward, as if shocked at what she is looking at. Eyes wide and lips slightly parted, her expression captures a sudden shock, a raw mixture of surprise, shame, and regret. One hand grips the marble sink counter’s edge, knuckles taut; the other hand hovers near her collarbone, fingers splayed in alarm. Her golden high-heeled sandals, elegant yet somehow incongruous in this moment of inner turmoil, glint beneath the soft illumination. She gazes straight into the camera—and by extension, the viewer—, The atmosphere inside this luxurious restroom feels charged and private, as though holding a secret that can never be spoken aloud.

8 months ago

Plasticine figures of the cartoon characters Puzzle 2: Joy, Anger, Sadness, Anxiety and Shame. Standing behind Riley's remote control. Clay animation style to emphasize their handmade plasticine look.

9 months ago

Hyper realistic image with a wide-angle view of an opulent, modern restroom in a high-end restaurant. Warm, low lighting softly illuminates the space, reflecting off polished marble floors, intricately veined in white and gray. Gilded details accent the mirror’s frame, the faucet fixtures, and the subtle inlays on the walls. The woman from before stands in a large, ornate door, her entire body visible from head to toe. She wears a sleek, elegant black evening dress with a plunging neckline, the dress is as seductive as it is graceful, its fabric shimmering under the discreet lights. Her posture feels tense and slightly hunched inward, as if shocked at what she is looking at. Eyes wide and lips slightly parted, her expression captures a sudden shock, a raw mixture of surprise, shame, and regret. One hand grips the marble sink counter’s edge, knuckles taut; the other hand hovers near her collarbone, fingers splayed in alarm. Her golden high-heeled sandals, elegant yet somehow incongruous in this moment of inner turmoil, glint beneath the soft illumination. She gazes straight into the camera—and by extension, the viewer—, The atmosphere inside this luxurious restroom feels charged and private, as though holding a secret that can never be spoken aloud.

9 months ago

Hyper realistic image with a wide-angle view of an opulent, modern restroom in a high-end restaurant. Warm, low lighting softly illuminates the space, reflecting off polished marble floors, intricately veined in white and gray. Gilded details accent the mirror’s frame, the faucet fixtures, and the subtle inlays on the walls. The woman from before stands in front of a large, ornate mirror, her entire body visible from head to toe. She wears the same sleek, long-sleeved black evening gown with a plunging neckline, the dress’s fabric shimmering under the discreet lights. Her posture feels tense and slightly hunched inward, as if recoiling at the reflection. Eyes wide and lips slightly parted, her expression captures a sudden shock, a raw mixture of surprise, shame, and regret. One hand grips the marble sink counter’s edge, knuckles taut; the other hand hovers near her collarbone, fingers splayed in alarm. Her golden high-heeled sandals, elegant yet somehow incongruous in this moment of inner turmoil, glint beneath the soft illumination. She gazes straight into the mirror—and by extension, the viewer—suggesting that what she sees is more than just her reflection. The atmosphere inside this luxurious restroom feels charged and private, as though holding a secret that can never be spoken aloud.

3 months ago

A ruined amphitheater lies open beneath an eternal golden sky—thick with ash, glowing with the last light of truth. The air shimmers with heat and memory. At its heart, front view of a woman stands alone on the cracked stone stage, barefoot, powerful, broken and whole. Her skin is sun-kissed bronze, streaked with dirt and sweat. A deep red ceremonial robe hangs from one shoulder, torn at the hem, golden embroidery catching the light like embers refusing to die. Her long black hair clings to her damp neck and spine, framing her face—eyes fierce, tear-stained, unblinking. A cracked porcelain mask lies at her feet, forgotten. Around her, translucent specters crowd the amphitheater’s crumbling tiers—echoes of past selves, ancestors, lost lovers—half-there and flickering like damaged film. They watch silently, reverently. The woman breathes in, slow and defiant, her chest rising with the weight of every lie she’s shed. Rays of golden light pierce the dust, cutting across her body like revelation. Her hands are open at her sides, fingers trembling—not with fear, but readiness. The gold cannot be hidden from anymore. It’s in her. It is her. In this breathless moment, she stands between exposure and exodus, between shame and fire, and the world dares to watch. Ultra-realistic. Cinematic music-video style. Raw, radiant, symbolic. Emotionally drenched in reckoning and rebirth.