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

1 year 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
A Viking on a Viking ship, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, glided gracefully across the vast expanse of the sea. But this was no ordinary sea; it was a sea of coffee, as dark as the stormy skies above. The Viking's long, flowing hair whipped in the wind, and his rugged features were etched with determination and a touch of caffeine-induced excitement. With each sip, the rich aroma of roasted beans infused his senses, fueling his adventurous spirit. He embraced the boldness of the coffee,
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
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
He guards those waters and those rivers, the horrible ferryman Charon, whose filthiness is frightening; on his chest falls a disheveled long white beard, flames gush from his eyes; a sordid cloak hangs from his shoulders, fastened with a knot: he himself steers his black boat with a hook, sets the sails and carries the dead in it, old now, but green and sturdy in his old age, as befits a god.
[Renaissance, a Sir] Who was I? Where was I?… The landscape was totally unknown to me, even my body was unfamiliar. What forces brought me here? I searched my mind for memories… There was something there, but it was too clouded… A name… I scanned the horizon. A distant structure rose out of the mists. As evening approached I came upon an enigmatic oasis with a fountain.
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
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
A Viking on a Viking ship, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, glided gracefully across the vast expanse of the sea. But this was no ordinary sea; it was a sea of coffee, as dark as the stormy skies above. The Viking's long, flowing hair whipped in the wind, and his rugged features were etched with determination and a touch of caffeine-induced excitement. With each sip, the rich aroma of roasted beans infused his senses, fueling his adventurous spirit. He embraced the boldness of the coffee,
The squirming tentacles of the Giant Squid coil around the Balrog, attempting to ensnare it within their slimy grasp. But the Balrog, infused with an infernal resilience, resists the suffocating embrace, its whip slashing through the water, its fiery lash searing the flesh of the cephalopod. Each strike reverberates through the cavern, a symphony of clash and sizzle. The battle rages on, the clash of elemental forces echoing through the cavern's depths. The Giant Squid, with its immense strength
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