Placeholder: A cozy psychedelic style living room scene from middle age featuring a fireplace illuminating a table filled with worms and rats next to Zoë Bleu Sidel as a ghoul-queen in Agent Provocateur surrounded by piles of gifts A cozy psychedelic style living room scene from middle age featuring a fireplace illuminating a table filled with worms and rats next to Zoë Bleu Sidel as a ghoul-queen in Agent Provocateur surrounded by piles of gifts

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@generalpha

Prompt

A cozy psychedelic style living room scene from middle age featuring a fireplace illuminating a table filled with worms and rats next to Zoë Bleu Sidel as a ghoul-queen in Agent Provocateur surrounded by piles of gifts

distorted image, malformed body, malformed fingers

3 days ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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heroic fantasy scene: The witch's desire to add the head to her collection raises questions in Zhaania's mind. Who is this swordsman, and what purpose does the witch have for the automaton's crystal eyes? The pieces of the puzzle begin to take shape, but many mysteries remain. The witch's gaze flickers with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. The severed head and the quest for the crystal eyes hold secrets that must be uncovered.
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 the secretive realm of the Ruxa Koros, a mysterious event unfolds as The Great Nema, revered by all, has laid her eggs. The air is filled with an electric anticipation as a pair of household slaves assist her in this sacred ritual. The process is smooth, devoid of complications, a sign of hope and prosperity for the future. The news is yet to break in the hallowed halls of the Ruxa Koros, but whispers of the event begin to spread like wildfire, foreshadowing a wave of celebration and a deepen
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
heroic fantasy scene: The witch's desire to add the head to her collection raises questions in Zhaania's mind. Who is this swordsman, and what purpose does the witch have for the automaton's crystal eyes? The pieces of the puzzle begin to take shape, but many mysteries remain. The witch's gaze flickers with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. The severed head and the quest for the crystal eyes hold secrets that must be uncovered.
Within the cozy confines of the inn, nestled deep in the shire's sheltering valleys, the cheerful hobbit sexy girl stood drying mugs behind the well-worn counter. Before him sat his own stein, steaming gently in the firelight. Dark as finest bogwater was the elixir within, crowned with foam delicate as new-fallen snow. Slow spirals rose as it breathed, perfuming the air with notes beyond any grown in the gardens of the Halflings: deep and mysterious as tilled earth, spiced with hints of cocoa
[a hazbin hotel-style image with noisy scratches and glitches, capturing the essence of an eerie scene] a Spooky Birthday Party unlike any other, hosted by Pugsley Addams himself. Within the eerie halls of the Addams Family mansion, haunted cakes with spiderweb frosting and ghostly party games that defy the laws of the living await the guests. The decorations, adorned with cobwebs and flickering candles, cast a spectral glow over the festivities. As the peculiar guests mingle in the shadows, Pug
Our dreams don’t belong to them
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[Disenchantment, Queen Dagmar] spilt to slake her savage thirst. Only when a merchant lord dared question her judgement did Dagmar's lips peel back in a bone-chilling snarl. The oaf wilted as her words flayed flesh from mind, left shaking in a heap upon the floor. This display sated her black humor for now. With a flick of cerulean silk Dagmar rose, grace incarnate yet death given mortal form. Night's frigid wings spread across the cloudy sky as she swept from the hall in a flurry of snow. None
[Disenchantment] queen Dagmar on her throne in agent provocative, ready
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