Placeholder: [poster by René Gruau] It was not summoned. It was not born. It simply was—coiled beneath the skin of the world, sleeping in silence until a voice whispered it back into memory. Now it stares, unblinking, from the edge of existence. A head the size of mountains, crowned with horns like dead moons, eyes burning with starfire. Its breath coils through the air like smoke from a forgotten forge. The land around it bends in color and shape, as though reality itself were second-guessing its design. [poster by René Gruau] It was not summoned. It was not born. It simply was—coiled beneath the skin of the world, sleeping in silence until a voice whispered it back into memory. Now it stares, unblinking, from the edge of existence. A head the size of mountains, crowned with horns like dead moons, eyes burning with starfire. Its breath coils through the air like smoke from a forgotten forge. The land around it bends in color and shape, as though reality itself were second-guessing its design.

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@generalpha

Prompt

[poster by René Gruau] It was not summoned. It was not born. It simply was—coiled beneath the skin of the world, sleeping in silence until a voice whispered it back into memory. Now it stares, unblinking, from the edge of existence. A head the size of mountains, crowned with horns like dead moons, eyes burning with starfire. Its breath coils through the air like smoke from a forgotten forge. The land around it bends in color and shape, as though reality itself were second-guessing its design.

distorted image, malformed body

5 days ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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[poster by René Gruau] It was not summoned. It was not born. It simply was—coiled beneath the skin of the world, sleeping in silence until a voice whispered it back into memory. Now it stares, unblinking, from the edge of existence. A head the size of mountains, crowned with horns like dead moons, eyes burning with starfire. Its breath coils through the air like smoke from a forgotten forge. The land around it bends in color and shape, as though reality itself were second-guessing its design.
[poster by René Gruau] It was not summoned. It was not born. It simply was—coiled beneath the skin of the world, sleeping in silence until a voice whispered it back into memory. Now it stares, unblinking, from the edge of existence. A head the size of mountains, crowned with horns like dead moons, eyes burning with starfire. Its breath coils through the air like smoke from a forgotten forge. The land around it bends in color and shape, as though reality itself were second-guessing its design.
[art by Ralph Steadman] Pale Demonic Woman in open White Robes With Black Curved Horns and carmin lips. Ethereal Moonlight. Beautiful; Tragic; Delicate; Nightmarish; Eldritch; Detailed; Complex
[poster by René Gruau] It was not summoned. It was not born. It simply was—coiled beneath the skin of the world, sleeping in silence until a voice whispered it back into memory. Now it stares, unblinking, from the edge of existence. A head the size of mountains, crowned with horns like dead moons, eyes burning with starfire. Its breath coils through the air like smoke from a forgotten forge. The land around it bends in color and shape, as though reality itself were second-guessing its design.
[poster by René Gruau] It was not summoned. It was not born. It simply was—coiled beneath the skin of the world, sleeping in silence until a voice whispered it back into memory. Now it stares, unblinking, from the edge of existence. A head the size of mountains, crowned with horns like dead moons, eyes burning with starfire. Its breath coils through the air like smoke from a forgotten forge. The land around it bends in color and shape, as though reality itself were second-guessing its design.
[art by Frank Frazetta] 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 celebration 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 sa
[art by René Gruau] posing beneath the waterfall with no inhibitions
[art by René Gruau] posing beneath the waterfall by artist Egon Schiele
[poster by René Gruau] It was not summoned. It was not born. It simply was—coiled beneath the skin of the world, sleeping in silence until a voice whispered it back into memory. Now it stares, unblinking, from the edge of existence. A head the size of mountains, crowned with horns like dead moons, eyes burning with starfire. Its breath coils through the air like smoke from a forgotten forge. The land around it bends in color and shape, as though reality itself were second-guessing its design.
[art by Ralph Steadman] 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 celebration 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 sa
[poster by René Gruau] Jacob wrestling with angel
[art by René Gruau] posing beneath the waterfall with no inhibitions
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