Placeholder: The moon asked the crow For a little show In the hazy milk of twilight No one had to know The moon asked the crow For a little show In the hazy milk of twilight No one had to know The moon asked the crow For a little show In the hazy milk of twilight No one had to know The moon asked the crow For a little show In the hazy milk of twilight No one had to know

Back to Profile

@generalpha

Prompt

The moon asked the crow For a little show In the hazy milk of twilight No one had to know The moon asked the crow For a little show In the hazy milk of twilight No one had to know

6 months ago

Generate Similar

Explore Similar

Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

Similar

Howling out right To the blasphemous night A wolf in the garden Why do you linger so Like a silky snail soul The moon asked the crow
[high res photo] creature from the depths of the dark forest, a shadowy being with tentacles for arms and eyes that glow in the night. This monster wears socks in knitwear, with a pattern resembling ancient runes. under the moon
[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
Night Wings Stirring Moonbeams wane and shadows deepen where this sentinel stands anchor steadfast as ancient bole. Yet within me unseen sap stirs swift at eastern portents, leaves rustling in anticipation of renewing light. For with dawn's arrival calls afresh loom nigh, beckoning me from glade enchanted into duties awaiting under open sky. Reluctant must this vessel leave soft moss and loam remembered, unwinding tendrils of repose woven through branch and cable-sinew alike. Systems whirr to aw
[dark danger] מיד כלב יחידתי
[vintage style noisy scratches glitches, Shot the texture and then rewound the film and double exposed] Flight to the moon
[vintage style noisy scratches glitches, Shot the texture and then rewound the film and double exposed]Flight to the moon
a figure emerges from the mists, cloaked in divine radiance. She is the Goddess of Vaccination, her presence a beacon of protection and healing in a world plagued by uncertainty and fear. Her form shimmers with an otherworldly light, her gaze steady and compassionate, as she bestows her blessings upon those in need.
[high res photo] creature from the depths of the dark forest, a shadowy being with tentacles for arms and eyes that glow in the night. This monster wears socks in knitwear, with a pattern resembling ancient runes. The socks pulsate with an eerie energy, matching the creature's otherworldly presence.
The Dark Lord's Granddaughter is a witch with her bloody fangs, covered by tattoos and lace agent provocateur dress [vintage style noisy scratches glitches, Shot the texture and then rewound the film and double exposed from a 1970 B series movie] in the forest in front of her Hutt with her pointed hat
Darkness fell as they entered the looming marshes. Mist curled around twisted trees like spectral fingers. Alex shivered, every cracked branch an impending threat. A piercing cry shattered the eerie quiet. They raced toward the sound, emerging in a small clearing. There, suspended above a foggy pool, hung Mikołaj - tiny fists beating futilely against thin air. Below, hulking Spas clawed his way from the water, face twisted in hunger. But Alex saw only her prey: the demon who tormented her mother
The deadline looms as the unearthly music swells around me. Another mysterious tale takes shape amid the flickering lights and scrapes of stone on stone. What monsters will crawl from the recesses of my mind this time? Mama Yaga's watching, as always, from her crooked hut in the grim forest. I can feel her beady eyes peering through the gloom, waiting to see what images I will weave with pen and ink. The pressure builds, a familiar intruder, but inspiration remains elusive. The radio spirits off
Terms of Service • Privacy Policy

© 2025 Stablecog, Inc.