Placeholder: 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 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

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@generalpha

Prompt

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

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

832 × 1248

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envision the scene. An overhead view, as if I am watching from above. The cold sea breeze cuts through the air, carrying the scent of salt and adventure. The waters around the Viking's vessel shimmer with an ethereal glow, reflecting the pale moonlight. The drakkar itself, a magnificent sight, its sleek figure slicing through the waves. I can see it now, the lifeless figure of the Viking Yard lying peacefully in the boat, his weathered face etched with the marks of battles fought and won. His ey
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
[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.
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
envision the scene. An overhead view, as if I am watching from above. The cold sea breeze cuts through the air, carrying the scent of salt and adventure. The waters around the Viking's vessel shimmer with an ethereal glow, reflecting the pale moonlight. The drakkar itself, a magnificent sight, its sleek figure slicing through the waves. I can see it now, the lifeless figure of the Viking Yard lying peacefully in the boat, his weathered face etched with the marks of battles fought and won. His ey
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, Revisit’st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous, and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we do?
[3d isometric view complemented by diagrams and technical blueprints] Red Sonja's Pirate Galleon Description Length: 100 feet Hull: Blackened wood with battle scars Mainmast: Towering structure reaching 80 feet Sails: Tattered canvas billowing in the wind Deck: Chaotic layout with ropes and canvas strewn about Crew: Rough and weathered individuals led by Red Sonja Cannons: Lined along gunwales, ready for battle Sound: Creaking timbers, groaning rigging, symphony of sea noises Atmosphere: Smell o
[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
UN COUP DE DÉS JAMAIS QUAND BIEN MÊME LANCÉ DANS DES CIRCONSTANCES ÉTERNELLES DU FOND D’UN NAUFRAGE SOIT que l’abîme blanchi étale furieux sous une inclinaison plane désespérément d’aile la sienne par avance retombée d’un mal à dresser le vol et couvrant les jaillissements coupant au ras les bonds très à l’intérieur résume l’ombre enfouie dans la transparence par cette voile alternative jusqu'adapter à l’envergure sa béante profondeur en tant que la coque d’un bâtiment penché de l’un ou l’au
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 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
captured in a poor quality close-up photo, a mere fragment of the grand tapestry of this enigmatic realm. Despite the blurred edges and obscured details, the essence of this scene on Terraléa 816 tantalizes the imagination, hinting at hidden wonders just beyond the frame. In the faint shadows and pixelated hues of the photo, one can discern a faint glimmer of a world unlike any other, where the echoes of history and the whispers of the unknown intertwine in a delicate dance.
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