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

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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

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2 years ago

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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
Infamous Azazel, demon of sacrifice, Bearer of man's sins into the wilderness - What secrets lie beneath your fearsome guise, Your twisted horns and talons sharp as knives? Perhaps you too were innocent once, cleansed By desert winds and baptismal rains. But corruption crept in, sin by sin, Until your heart as black as soot became.
[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.
The spectre monotile tiles the plane without reflections.
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
[Elven warrior] 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.
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
Azazel's true face leers from the dark. No longer cloaked in shadow, but exposed— A being woven of pure malice and spite, With serpents coiled where hair should frame his face. Eyes black as endless voids reflect no soul, Only an endless hunger to defile, destroy. His claws are jagged shards of obsidian. The very air contorts around his form, Reality rejecting such wickedness—
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
Azazel grins, teeth glinting in the shadows. "Who are you to judge my actions, O hooded one? Your scythe is not my concern." "London still mourns the children you slew," Dahlia replies. "I banished you once before For your wicked crimes. Must history repeat?"
The Slavs knew well enough to fear him. A god of this primeval underworld, both venerated and cursed in turns. King of this pit where myths were born. But Alex had come to face no mere idol - Khors haunted her dreams, this blight that had driven her mother to the brink. Beyond the tomb's threshold, something was awakening. Slithering over stone like a loathsome serpent roused from slumber. Two baleful orbs blinked open, choking the passage in a miasma like the mouth of Hell. Alex clutched her bl
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.
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