Placeholder: Moth man, real, 8k, night, red eyes Moth man, real, 8k, night, red eyes

@generalpha

Prompt

Moth man, real, 8k, night, red eyes

doubles, twins, entangled fingers, Worst Quality, ugly, ugly face, watermarks, undetailed, unrealistic, double limbs, worst hands, worst body, Disfigured, double, twin, dialog, book, multiple fingers, deformed, deformity, ugliness, poorly drawn face, extra_limb, extra limbs, bad hands, wrong hands, poorly drawn hands, messy drawing, cropped head, bad anatomy, lowres, extra digit, fewer digit, worst quality, low quality, jpeg artifacts, watermark, missing fingers, cropped, poorly drawn

2 years ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

3328 × 4992

Similar

Moth man, real, 8k, night, red eyes
Out of the shadows emerged a group of machines, their metallic frames glinting ominously in the dim light. Their red eyes pierced through the darkness, scanning their surroundings with ruthless precision. Maria Magdalena stood her ground, her eyes locked with those of the machines, unyielding in her resolve. The storm raged outside, mirroring the turmoil within. Lightning illuminated the once bustling streets, briefly revealing the extent of destruction that had befallen this forgotten town. But
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[photorealistic, greenish-blue] The Arachnomorph woman, a monstrous hybrid, had an elegant woman's upper torso merging seamlessly into a spider's abdomen. Supported by eight spindly legs ending in razor-sharp pikes, her obsidian eyes locked onto intruders with malevolent intelligence in the dimly lit cavern.
Moth Man, a mysterious figure shrouded in darkness, emerges once more from the depths of the unknown. With a wingspan that stretches eight thousand feet, this enigmatic creature haunts the night with its piercing red eyes that seem to burn with foreboding. Mothman, they call it, the harbinger of impending tragedy. Whispers of its existence have resurfaced, spreading like wildfire through the depths of human consciousness. Is it merely a product of mass hysteria, a figment of the collective imagi
nightgow
The spectre monotile tiles the plane without reflections.
Charles Bishop Weyland; Predator
Moth Man, a mysterious figure shrouded in darkness, emerges once more from the depths of the unknown. With a wingspan that stretches eight thousand feet, this enigmatic creature haunts the night with its piercing red eyes that seem to burn with foreboding. Mothman, they call it, the harbinger of impending tragedy. Whispers of its existence have resurfaced, spreading like wildfire through the depths of human consciousness. Is it merely a product of mass hysteria, a figment of the collective imagi
In the heart of the buzzing hive, where the walls cracked and the sacred ways of life were defiled, there lurked the malevolent presence known as the Devil of Bees. This entity, born of shadows and whispers, wielded a power that struck fear into the hearts of all who dared to cross its path. The Devil of Bees was not a creature of flesh and blood, but a manifestation of primal terror, a force of nature that twisted the very fabric of reality.
The thing moves again, emerging fully from the shadows. It is a wight—a walking corpse of immense size, its body wrapped in the tattered remains of priestly robes, gray with age and decay. The cloth flutters as it moves, revealing glimpses of bone beneath. Its head is a featureless skull with glowing blue light where the eyes should be, casting a faint azure radiance over the snow. As it drags itself forward, its joints grind audibly, the sound like stone grinding on stone.
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