Placeholder: Their dreams are our nightmares Their dreams are our nightmares

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@generalpha

Prompt

Their dreams are our nightmares

large hands

2 years ago

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Model

SDXL

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

832 × 1248

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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
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
In a place where no one ever came close to dreaming about... a place from a foaming brain, there is a tiny ripple of truth that duplicates sanity to reality... existence of self-pity and triumph! This is a long gone dream in which only lost souls find mercy from a god of an insane creation! Blowing cold winds that come from an uneven breathing pattern warm the frigid core of the sun! Rotting brain from inside the brittle bone of an old branch impatiently waiting to outgrow the sky… You are lost
[art by Zdzisław Beksiński] You cry out into the deepening gloom of your bedroom, voice cracking with genuine terror as the thing beneath the bed shifts and elongates, its pale, twitching limbs spilling onto the floorboards. The Night Nurse appears instantly at your side, but her usually stern face shows only concern as she notices the creature writhing in the shadows.
Their dreams are our nightmares
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
[Shattered Image, Shot the texture and then rewound the film and double exposed from a 1939 B colour series movie] The Wizard of Oz's iconic scene
A detailed and whimsical 3d isometric illustration, created in a vintage charcoal style. This creation delves into extraordinary and fantastical architecture, brimming with elaborate details that beckon the observer to explore every nook and cranny. The presence of the figure at the entrance infuses a sense of enigma and storytelling into this fantastical tableau. Perfect for aficionados of fantasy artwork and classic illustration.
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
A detailed and whimsical illustration, created in a vintage charcoal style. This piece explores unique and fantastic architecture, with intricate details that invite the viewer to discover every corner. The figure at the entrance adds a touch of mystery and narrative to this imaginary scene. Ideal for lovers of fantasy art and traditional drawing.
The White Nurse enters in the dimly lit bedroom, shadows danced ominously across the walls as the night grew darker. The room is filled with terror as the monstrous presence beneath your bed stirred and twisted, its eerie limbs creeping out into the moonlit room. Just as fear threatened to consume you, a soft, soothing voice cut through the darkness.
In a place where no one ever came close to dreaming about... a place from a foaming brain, there is a tiny ripple of truth that duplicates sanity to reality... existence of self-pity and triumph! This is a long gone dream in which only lost souls find mercy from a god of an insane creation! Blowing cold winds that come from an uneven breathing pattern warm the frigid core of the sun! Rotting brain from inside the brittle bone of an old branch impatiently waiting to outgrow the sky… You are lost
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