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

large hands

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
The Celestial Blacksmith, a figure shrouded in cosmic mystery and forged in the fires of the universe. Crafting celestial wonders with hammer and anvil amidst the swirling nebulae. Sparks of creation flying as the stars themselves bend to his will. Each strike of his hammer echoing through the cosmos, shaping the very fabric of existence. A master of celestial metalwork, bending stardust and shaping galaxies with divine precision. The Celestial Blacksmith, a cosmic artisan, creating wonders beyo
In the days of old, when the world was still young and filled with wonders beyond imagination, there lived a brave and adventurous soul named Aldarion. He hailed from the distant lands of Middle-earth, a realm touched by both the light of the sun and the silver glow of the moon. Aldarion's heart was filled with a yearning for beauty and harmony, and he dreamed of planting a surge of the Silver Tree of Valinor in a land where such marvels had never been seen.
In the alien landscape of Mars, the hero stands atop a towering mound of skulls, a grim testament to the battles fought and lives lost in this desolate realm. The red soil beneath his boots whispers tales of ancient conflicts, as the crimson sky above casts an eerie glow on the macabre scene. With each step he takes, the hero's presence radiates an aura of power and determination, a lone figure standing defiant against the harshness of the Martian wasteland.
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
In the alien landscape of Mars, the hero stands atop a towering mound of skulls, a grim testament to the battles fought and lives lost in this desolate realm. The red soil beneath his boots whispers tales of ancient conflicts, as the crimson sky above casts an eerie glow on the macabre scene. With each step he takes, the hero's presence radiates an aura of power and determination, a lone figure standing defiant against the harshness of the Martian wasteland.
What dark visions will they unleash? I hear panting in the shadows, a rumbling beneath the floor. Something is stirring in the netherworld, drawn by the call of pen against paper. A sudden gasp tears through the tense quiet. The monsters are coming, scrabbling against the veil that separates our worlds. I must capture their frenzied essence before they tear through, bring strange terrors spilling out into the night. My pen flies, guided by otherworldly hands. A tale is forming, one that will ke
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.
As the aftermath of the battle subsides, there's an eerie silence that fills the tomb. Suddenly, a dark presence looms over you - the spectral form of Eldarion himself. He hisses, his ghostly lips curling back to reveal jagged teeth.As the aftermath of the battle subsides, there's an eerie silence that fills the tomb. Suddenly, a dark presence looms over you - the spectral form of Eldarion himself. He hisses, his ghostly lips curling back to reveal jagged teeth. The shadows in the tomb seem to
[ADnD in the crypt] Picture this: clad in darkness, a silent ninja protector with eyes sharp and alert. Behind him: a Skelton cloaked in a brown, hooded robe, exuding an eerie aura of power.
[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.
[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.
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