Rock and roll
inframe Ara Kaizo
#couple #rocknroll #gpt

THE DRAGON EMPEROR

PROMPT #AIIMAGENOTREAL #GPT

inframe my man Ara Kaizo

DRAGON EMPEROR WARRIOR

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Inframe Ara Kaizo my hubby

REVOLUSI STEAMPUK TELAH DIMULAI!

Biarkan uap naik dan baja beradu. Kami tidak akan diam sampai kebebasan diraih dari distopia ini. Siapa yang siap untuk pertempuran epik ini?

#steampunk #postapocalyptic #apocalypse #mechanicalart #mecha #battle #rebellion #fantasyart #art #steampunkstyle #adventure #scifi #creative #VF

LUNAR AIRSHIP COMMANDER

PROMPT 👇🏻 #Aiimagenotreal #gpt


inframe my hubby Ara Kaizo

Built in the clouds. Ruled by gears.

pilot Ara Kaizo
#steampunk #aicosplay #fantasyart #couplegoals #couplesteampunk

THE LAST ELVEN ARCHER

#AIIMAGENOTREAL #Flow

INFRAME My Hubby Ara Kaizo

SANG PENARI — FINAL PART

The rain had not stopped for three nights when Sri Lestari finally realized the curse had begun to grow inside her.

At first, she thought it was fear.

Fear of Sang Buto.
Fear of the forbidden love she had allowed herself to taste.
Fear of losing the luxurious life she had spent years building through blood, beauty, and dance.

But deep inside, she already knew the truth.

She was carrying a child.

And that child was never meant to exist.

For nearly five years, Sri Lestari had belonged to the unseen kingdom hidden beyond the rice fields. Every full moon on Thursday night, she danced within the cursed pendopo of Sang Buto, the ancient giant spirit who had granted her wealth, fame, and beauty in exchange for her soul.

The agreement had been simple.

She could have everything she desired.

But she was forbidden to love a human.

And Sri Lestari broke that promise.

The young businessman who once looked at her like she was the only woman in the world had become her weakness. In his arms, she forgot the warnings, the rituals, and the terrifying figure waiting beyond the veil of the human world.

So when the signs of her pregnancy appeared, she ran to him, desperate for protection.

Instead, she found the truth.

The man already had a wife.
A family.
A perfect life untouched by darkness.

Sri Lestari was never meant to be part of it.

“You were only a beautiful distraction,” he told her coldly.

That sentence shattered something inside her far more painfully than the curse itself.

She left the mansion beneath heavy rain, wandering alone through empty roads while the distant sound of gamelan slowly echoed from the direction of the rice fields.

Calling her home.

That night, Sri Lestari returned to the collapsing hut where she had once lived in poverty before meeting Sang Buto. She sat alone in darkness, trembling as rainwater dripped from the roof.

For the first time in years, she was no longer terrified of being poor.

She was terrified of what was coming for her.

When the full moon finally arrived, the fog returned to the village.

And so did the pendopo.

Hidden in the middle of the flooded rice fields, glowing faintly red beneath the storm, the supernatural palace waited like a doorway to another world.

Sri Lestari walked toward it alone.

Inside, silence filled the kingdom of Sang Buto.

No dancers welcomed her.
No music celebrated her arrival.

At the end of the enormous hall, Sang Buto sat upon his dark throne, surrounded by women who once made the same bargain she did.

Former dancers.

Former lovers of greed.

Now their pale faces resembled lifeless dolls trapped between humanity and something far older.

That was when Sri Lestari understood the truth.

No one ever escaped Sang Buto.

As the ritual began, the sound of gamelan thundered through the hall. Red mist spread across the floor while the cursed dancers moved in perfect synchronization around her.

Her body weakened.

The air itself felt alive.

And before the eyes of Sang Buto, something unnatural entered the world that night.

Not entirely human.
Not entirely spirit.

A small shadow-like figure stood beside the giant king as if it had always belonged there.

Sri Lestari reached for it desperately.

But Sang Buto simply took the creature’s hand and turned away from her.

That was the moment Sri Lestari lost everything.

Not her wealth.
Not her fame.

But the final piece of herself that still remained human.

At dawn, the pendopo vanished.

The villagers later discovered Sri Lestari lying alone beside the muddy rice fields beneath cold morning rain. Her once elegant black kebaya was torn and soaked with mud, while her pale face looked strangely peaceful.

No one understood how she died.

And no one dared to ask.

But the story did not end there.

Months later, villagers began hearing distant gamelan music every Thursday night beneath the full moon.

Some claimed they saw a woman dancing alone in the middle of the flooded fields during the rain.

A tall figure wearing a ruined black kebaya and a torn red shawl.

Her movements remained graceful.

Beautiful.

But horrifyingly unnatural.

And under the moonlight, her pale face no longer resembled a living woman.

From that night onward, the villagers stopped calling her Sri Lestari.

They gave her a different name.

A name spoken only in whispers after midnight.

The Dancer.


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Disclaimer: This story is a fictional work born entirely from imagination. Any resemblance to real people, places, events, or circumstances is purely coincidental and unintentional.

SANG PENARI — PART FINAL

Hujan turun perlahan malam itu ketika Sri Lestari duduk sendirian di kamar mewah penginapan tempat ia biasa bertemu lelaki yang selama ini dicintainya.

Tangannya gemetar memegang kain batik kecil yang membungkus ramuan dari dukun desa.

Ia menatap kosong ke arah cermin.

Tubuhnya mulai berubah.

Dan jauh di dalam hatinya, Sri Lestari sadar bahwa kutukan itu akhirnya datang menagih janji.

Ia mengandung anak dari lelaki manusia.

Malam itu juga Lestari mendatangi sang pengusaha muda yang selama ini memberinya cinta dan harapan. Lelaki itu adalah satu-satunya tempat ia percaya bisa berlindung dari murka Sang Buto.

Namun semua harapannya hancur.

Di rumah megah milik lelaki itu, Sri Lestari justru melihat seorang wanita dan anak kecil menyambut kepulangan sang pengusaha.

Lelaki itu ternyata telah memiliki keluarga.

Dan lebih buruk lagi…

ia tidak pernah benar-benar mencintai Sri Lestari.

“Aku hanya menginginkanmu sebagai penari… bukan sebagai bagian hidupku.”

Kalimat itu menghancurkan Sri Lestari sepenuhnya.

Ia pergi di tengah hujan deras dengan tubuh gemetar dan hati yang hancur. Gaun hitam mewah yang dulu membuatnya dipuja kini terasa seperti kutukan yang membungkus tubuhnya.

Dalam perjalanan pulang menuju gubuk reyot tempat semuanya dimulai, Sri Lestari merasa suara gamelan kembali terdengar dari kejauhan.

Pelan.

Memanggilnya.

Dan untuk pertama kalinya sejak membuat perjanjian dengan Sang Buto, Sri Lestari benar-benar merasa ketakutan.

Di dalam gubuk gelap tanpa cahaya itu, ia menangis semalaman sambil memeluk perutnya. Tidak ada lagi kekayaan yang terasa berarti. Tidak ada lagi kemewahan yang bisa menyelamatkannya.

Namun semua sudah terlambat.

Malam Jumat saat bulan purnama tiba, Sri Lestari kembali berjalan menuju pendopo gaib Sang Buto di tengah sawah berkabut.

Kabut merah memenuhi jalan setapak. Hujan turun miring tertiup angin. Bulan purnama menggantung pucat di langit malam.

Dan di kejauhan…

pendopo gaib itu kembali muncul.

Saat Sri Lestari memasuki kerajaan Sang Buto, suasana terasa berbeda.

Tidak ada penyambutan.

Tidak ada tarian.

Sang Buto duduk di singgasananya dalam amarah yang membuat seluruh pendopo terasa hidup. Di sisi kanan dan kiri singgasana berdiri para penari terdahulu. Perempuan-perempuan yang dulu juga membuat perjanjian dengan Sang Buto demi kekayaan dan kemasyhuran.

Kini wajah mereka pucat dan kosong.

Mereka tidak lagi terlihat seperti manusia.

Saat itulah Sri Lestari sadar…

dirinya hanyalah penari berikutnya yang akan dikutuk selamanya.

Tubuhnya mulai melemah. Kandungannya bereaksi terhadap dunia gaib di sekitarnya. Gamelan berbunyi semakin keras sementara para penari terkutuk mulai menari mengelilinginya dalam gerakan yang sama.

Kabut merah memenuhi pendopo.

Dan malam itu, sesuatu lahir dari kutukan Sang Buto.

Bukan manusia.

Melainkan sosok kecil gelap yang berdiri diam di sisi Sang Buto seperti bagian dari kerajaan gaib itu sendiri.

Sri Lestari mencoba meraihnya.

Namun Sang Buto menggenggam tangan makhluk kecil itu dan membawanya menjauh.

Malam itu, Sri Lestari kehilangan segalanya.

Bukan hanya cinta.

Bukan hanya hidupnya.

Tetapi juga sesuatu yang bahkan lebih berharga daripada dirinya sendiri.

Saat fajar datang, pendopo gaib itu menghilang bersama kabut merah dan suara gamelan.

Yang tersisa hanyalah tubuh Sri Lestari di pematang sawah desa.

Sendirian.

Kebaya hitamnya rusak dan penuh lumpur. Hujan gerimis turun perlahan di atas tubuh dinginnya sementara langit fajar tampak pucat kelabu.

Warga desa menguburkannya tanpa pernah benar-benar memahami apa yang terjadi malam itu.

Namun kutukan Sang Buto ternyata tidak pernah selesai.

Beberapa bulan kemudian, warga mulai mendengar kembali suara gamelan dari tengah sawah setiap malam Jumat saat bulan purnama muncul.

Dan mereka yang cukup sial melihat ke arah kabut malam bersumpah pernah melihat seorang perempuan menari sendirian di tengah hujan.

Perempuan itu memakai kebaya hitam mewah yang compang-camping. Selendang merahnya bergerak tertiup angin malam. Rambut panjangnya basah dan berantakan menutupi wajah pucatnya.

Gerakan tariannya masih indah.

Namun tidak lagi manusiawi.

Dan sejak malam itu…

warga desa tidak lagi menyebut namanya Sri Lestari.

Mereka menyebutnya…

SANG PENARI


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Disclaimer: Cerita ini hanyalah karya fiksi dari imajinasi penulis. Jika terdapat kesamaan nama, tempat, waktu, maupun kejadian, semuanya murni kebetulan dan tidak disengaja.

SANG PENARI — PART II

“THE PRICE OF THE FULL MOON”

After the night Sri Lestari disappeared into the old pavilion hidden among the flooded rice fields, the village no longer saw her as an ordinary woman.

Something about her had changed.

And not long after that night, the world finally began to notice her.

Invitations arrived from everywhere, noble families, wealthy businessmen, government officials, private cultural events in distant cities. People spoke her name with admiration, almost obsession. Wherever Sri Lestari danced, audiences fell silent as if hypnotized by something beyond human beauty.

The poor farmer’s daughter who once slept beneath a leaking bamboo roof now lived surrounded by silk, gold, and endless luxury.

But every blessing carried a cost.

Hidden behind the glamour and applause was a secret no one knew.

Every Friday night beneath the full moon, Sri Lestari vanished from the human world.

She always returned to the ancient kingdom of Sang Buto.

Deep within that supernatural realm of red mist, black wood, and endless gamelan echoes, Sri Lestari belonged to him completely. There, she danced not for fame… but for the creature that had granted her everything she desired.

At first, she accepted the ritual willingly.

Because poverty was far more terrifying to her than darkness.

Years passed.

Her fame only grew larger, but so did the emptiness inside her. The more people worshipped her, the less human she felt. Men became obsessed after watching her perform. Some spent fortunes just to see her dance once more. Others claimed her movements no longer looked entirely natural.

And every full moon, Sang Buto waited for her return.

Like a king guarding something he owned.

Then, after nearly five years trapped between luxury and damnation, Sri Lestari met someone unexpected.

A young businessman from the city.

Unlike the others, he did not look at her with greed or obsession. He spoke to her gently. Calmly. As if she were simply a woman carrying exhaustion behind beautiful eyes.

For the first time in years, Sri Lestari felt warmth instead of fear.

Their meetings became more personal. Quiet conversations after midnight. Rain-soaked evenings inside private pavilions. Long nights where Sri Lestari slowly forgot the terrifying promise she once made beneath the full moon.

She began falling in love.

And that was the one thing forbidden by Sang Buto.

Soon, the kingdom changed.

The air grew colder whenever she returned. The music became slower. Heavier. The shadows inside the pavilion no longer welcomed her the same way.

Then one night beneath a crimson full moon…

Sang Buto rose from his throne for the very first time.

And Sri Lestari finally understood the truth.

She had never been a guest in his kingdom.

She was something far worse.

She was his.


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Disclaimer: “SANG PENARI” is a fictional horror-folklore story created purely from imagination with the assistance of AI. Any resemblance to real people, places, events, or beliefs is entirely coincidental and unintentional.