Placeholder: In the depths of the mind, God and the Devil engage in a timeless chess battle. God, wise and serene, faces the cunning and mischievous Devil. The chessboard, a masterpiece of cosmic art, holds the weight of eternity. Both players strategize, their thoughts intertwining with the fabric of existence. The Devil laughs with malice, testing God's resolve. God smiles with compassion, revealing a wisdom forged in eons. Their hands move, shifting the tapestry of existence. The battle symbolizes the ete In the depths of the mind, God and the Devil engage in a timeless chess battle. God, wise and serene, faces the cunning and mischievous Devil. The chessboard, a masterpiece of cosmic art, holds the weight of eternity. Both players strategize, their thoughts intertwining with the fabric of existence. The Devil laughs with malice, testing God's resolve. God smiles with compassion, revealing a wisdom forged in eons. Their hands move, shifting the tapestry of existence. The battle symbolizes the ete

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Prompt

In the depths of the mind, God and the Devil engage in a timeless chess battle. God, wise and serene, faces the cunning and mischievous Devil. The chessboard, a masterpiece of cosmic art, holds the weight of eternity. Both players strategize, their thoughts intertwining with the fabric of existence. The Devil laughs with malice, testing God's resolve. God smiles with compassion, revealing a wisdom forged in eons. Their hands move, shifting the tapestry of existence. The battle symbolizes the ete

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

1 year ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

832 × 1248

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In the depths of the mind, God and the Devil engage in a timeless chess battle. God, wise and serene, faces the cunning and mischievous Devil. The chessboard, a masterpiece of cosmic art, holds the weight of eternity. Both players strategize, their thoughts intertwining with the fabric of existence. The Devil laughs with malice, testing God's resolve. God smiles with compassion, revealing a wisdom forged in eons. Their hands move, shifting the tapestry of existence. The battle symbolizes the ete
[Dahlia Death] "You have to be honest, i will not help you if you lie to me" You ask "tell me more about this shadow... could it be... a devil?" The man looks at you with a worried look, he says: "The shadow was very dark, and it seemed to be made out of fire, with horns and cloven hoofs"
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.
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
In the depths of the mind, God and the Devil engage in a timeless chess battle. God, wise and serene, faces the cunning and mischievous Devil. The chessboard, a masterpiece of cosmic art, holds the weight of eternity. Both players strategize, their thoughts intertwining with the fabric of existence. The Devil laughs with malice, testing God's resolve. God smiles with compassion, revealing a wisdom forged in eons. Their hands move, shifting the tapestry of existence. The battle symbolizes the ete
[Dahlia Death] "You have to be honest, i will not help you if you lie to me" You ask "tell me more about this shadow... could it be... a devil?" The man looks at you with a worried look, he says: "The shadow was very dark, and it seemed to be made out of fire, with horns and cloven hoofs"
Defiler, tempter, unclean spirit - These titles ring hollow, sound robotic and terse. They fail to capture your complex essence, Your brilliance dimmed by humanity's curse. Somewhere deep beneath that fearsome facade, Behind the hellfire burning in your eyes, There yet remains some fragment, some glimmer Of the light you lost to time and bitter lies.
Detailed (drawing by artist Otto Rapp 1.5) at the Cryptid Taxidermy Museum in post apocalyptic Wonderland, in heaven everything is fine by lady in the radiator and brothers quay, drawing by H.R. Giger, by Giuseppe Arcimboldo, Hieronymus Bosch, Alphonse Mucha, intricately detailed, hyperrealism, fantasy, Bogomils Universe
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
Dahlia, angel of righteous demise, Traces with her scythe a five-pointed star— A prison to bind the demon in his tracks. Raising her blade to the gloomy skies, She invokes her sacred, fearsome role— "I am the goddess of the dead and damned!" Eyes shut, she summons ancient magic And feels it swell, electric, through the soil— The pentagram glowing with arcane light.
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
If mighty angels fair and tall, Each robed as priestly seneschal, On altar-suns burn incense daily, As wheel the systems to Love's sweet call, Earth's sun is sure an altar-rose, Abloom from dawn to day's bright close. The mighty angel stoops above it With pulsing wings, as it golden glows, To fan the incense-waves through space. When buds the light or folds its grace, He lifts erect his glorious stature, Kindling the sky from his ruddy face.
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