Placeholder: All our times have come Here but now they're gone Seasons don't fear the reaper Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain We can be like they are Come on, baby, don't fear the reaper Baby, take my hand, We'll be able to fly Baby, I'm your man All our times have come Here but now they're gone Seasons don't fear the reaper Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain We can be like they are Come on, baby, don't fear the reaper Baby, take my hand, We'll be able to fly Baby, I'm your man

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@generalpha

Prompt

All our times have come Here but now they're gone Seasons don't fear the reaper Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain We can be like they are Come on, baby, don't fear the reaper Baby, take my hand, We'll be able to fly Baby, I'm your man

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2 years ago

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Model

Luna Diffusion

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

608 × 912

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All our times have come Here but now they're gone Seasons don't fear the reaper Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain We can be like they are Come on, baby, don't fear the reaper Baby, take my hand, We'll be able to fly Baby, I'm your man
"What evil have you wrought?" asks Dahlia, Her voice cutting through the still night air. "More innocent blood on your hands I see." Azazel grins, teeth glinting in the shadows. "Who are you to judge my actions, O hooded one? Your scythe is not my concern."
The bandages and jewelry wrapped the ghoul in a macabre semblance of its former glory. They served as a reminder of the beauty and opulence that had once adorned the creature, now twisted and tainted by its wretched transformation. As Selene clashed with the ghoul, her light dagger meeting the creature's jagged claws, she could not help but notice the tragic juxtaposition of the once-beautiful jewelry against the decay that surrounded it. It served as a haunting testament to the fleeting nature
[JRR Tolkien] Her singing blade flashed as she cut down the first dark creature, dancing a deadly graceful arc through the air. The orcs charged her in fury, but fell swiftly beneath her blade like wheat before the scythe. Black blood flew through the air, staining Galadriel's gleaming armor, yet only serving to highlight her terrible beauty and power.
All our times have come Here but now they're gone Seasons don't fear the reaper Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain We can be like they are Come on, baby, don't fear the reaper Baby, take my hand, We'll be able to fly Baby, I'm your man
[light candles, pyramid, mummy] Your will succumbs to the mummy's dominion over life and death. Where once lingered a soul of royal pride,now an abyssmal hunger for domination fills its hollow gaze. "You have served your purpose, mortal, by freeing me from spiritual prison.Now you belong to the eternal night, an immortal sentinel forever at my side." The pharaoh's withered hands extend,filling your vision with the decaying visage of your new master. Shadows take form at its command,wrapping your
feature two central characters: a skeletal, death-like figure wearing a dark, hooded cloak, armed with swords, and adorned with intricate mechanical designs, and a pale, ghostly woman with flowing hair, wearing a tattered garment, who appears frightened or desperate. Ensure both characters are prominent and interact within the composition, capturing the contrast between the menacing, skeletal figure and the ethereal, ghostly woman.
[on her throne ADnD skeleton face] Cloaked in a brown, hooded robe the Crypt Thing With her loyal and formidable ninja-like bodyguard is a solitary figure that haunts the shadowed depths of ancient tombs and crypts, its pale form striking fear into the hearts of those who dare to disturb its eternal rest. , the Crypt Thing exudes an aura of power and otherworldly presence.
In the shadow of the Bloodmoon, the Oracle stands barefoot upon a desolate altar, her crimson form illuminated by the sky's eerie glow. Surrounding her are the swords of fallen warriors, planted in the ground as silent witnesses to the prophecy she bears. The air is thick with the scent of blood and magic, as spectral figures swirl in the background, their faces etched in anguish—souls bound to the fate she foretells. The Oracle's vision is clear: death and destruction are coming, heralded by th
feature two central characters: a skeletal, death-like figure wearing a dark, hooded cloak, armed with swords, and adorned with intricate mechanical designs, and a pale, ghostly woman with flowing hair, wearing a tattered garment, who appears frightened or desperate. Ensure both characters are prominent and interact within the composition, capturing the contrast between the menacing, skeletal figure and the ethereal, ghostly woman.
In the shadowed glade, where the moon cast an eerie glow, a figure emerged from the darkness. A demoness, with goat horns spiraling from her head, stood tall and proud. Her vestal linen dress stained with the blood of the sacrifice she had just made. The demoness wielded a sword, gleaming in the moonlight, a weapon of ancient power and dark intent. Her eyes, a fiery gaze that spoke of untold secrets and forbidden knowledge, surveyed the scene before her with a mix of satisfaction and hunger. The
Mona, the interstellar enigma, defies conventions. Once an unwilling lackey to a lesser villain, a twist of fate and a botched plan transformed her into a mutant with a vendetta. As a tenacious mercenary and devoted bodyguard to a brilliant yet unstable scientist, she shrouds herself in mystery, accompanied by an unpronounceable African name that adds to her allure. Her mutations carry a dual legacy, reshaping her form and purpose. Fuelled by a thirst for revenge against her former oppressor, M
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