Placeholder: The Cave of the Damned. The Cave of the Damned.

@generalpha

Prompt

The Cave of the Damned.

statue, doubles, twins, entangled fingers, Worst Quality, ugly, ugly face, watermarks, undetailed, unrealistic, double limbs, worst hands, worst body, Disfigured, double, twin, dialog, book, multiple fingers, deformed, deformity, ugliness, poorly drawn face, extra_limb, extra limbs, bad hands, wrong hands, poorly drawn hands, messy drawing, cropped head, bad anatomy, lowres, extra digit, fewer digit, worst quality, low quality, jpeg artifacts, watermark, missing fingers, cropped, poorly drawn

2 years ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

4096 × 4096

Similar

The Cave of the Damned.
But you tell me Over and over and over again, my friend How you don't believe We're on the eve of destruction
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[The Demon Project 048: from Pan's Labyrinth (2006)] a scene where sinister demons roam a dark, otherworldly landscape, their twisted forms blending seamlessly with the eerie environment. The demons, born from the depths of imagination and brought to life through digital artistry, exude a malevolent energy that sends shivers down your spine. The intricate details and haunting atmosphere evoke a sense of dread and fascination, drawing you into a realm where the boundary between reality and nightm
Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone Like a door that keeps revolving in a half forgotten dream Or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!
Haunting Echoes of Experimentation
Ce jour-là près de la source, Dieu sait ce que tu m'as dit Mais l'été finit sa course, l'oiseau tomba de son nid Et voilà que sur le sable nos pas s'effacent déjà Et je suis seul à la table qui résonne sous mes doigts Comme un tambourin qui pleure sous les gouttes de la pluie Comme les chansons qui meurent aussitôt qu'on les oublie
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Och aye, and light itself pays homage to your gracious form! Each beam and glimmer falls from rafters in nimbus-ring, limning sweet bounties in gilded glow to stir rawlest hungers in lowliest of witnesses. You dance divine amid halo bright as solstice fire, wilder and fairer than aught this mortal lens deserves blesséd view of... So guide my grasping mind's-eye still deeper into your woodland realm of sweat and worship, dear Fiona sprite! From fonts of bliss at which you wove first magic shall b
Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone Like a door that keeps revolving in a half forgotten dream Or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!
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Rows of makeshift structures, constructed from salvaged materials, were scattered throughout the cavern. These served as living quarters, workshops, and communal areas for the bunker's residents. Rustic furnishings, handcrafted from repurposed materials, added a sense of comfort and homeliness to the otherwise stark environment. In one corner, a small hydroponic garden thrived, its verdant greenery providing a stark contrast to the rocky surroundings. The carefully tended plants offered a sourc

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