Placeholder: Before the mirror she stands in faded cotton underthings, old but comfortable. This is intimacy's barrier, where innocence disguises give way to shadowed truth.Slowly, the last vestiges of perceived maturity shed away. First go stockings in crisp white, sliding up shapely calves and securing above the knee. Her reflection watches, expression unchanging, as if through someone else's eyes.Next, a simple short-sleeved blouse, buttons slipping closed almost by their own accord. The starchy collar fe

Before the mirror she stands in faded cotton underthings, old but comfortable. This is intimacy's barrier, where innocence disguises give way to shadowed truth.Slowly, the last vestiges of perceived maturity shed away. First go stockings in crisp white, sliding up shapely calves and securing above the knee. Her reflection watches, expression unchanging, as if through someone else's eyes.Next, a simple short-sleeved blouse, buttons slipping closed almost by their own accord. The starchy collar fe

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@generalpha

Prompt

Before the mirror she stands in faded cotton underthings, old but comfortable. This is intimacy's barrier, where innocence disguises give way to shadowed truth.Slowly, the last vestiges of perceived maturity shed away. First go stockings in crisp white, sliding up shapely calves and securing above the knee. Her reflection watches, expression unchanging, as if through someone else's eyes.Next, a simple short-sleeved blouse, buttons slipping closed almost by their own accord. The starchy collar fe

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

11 months ago

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Model

Kandinsky 2.2

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

832 × 1248

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Before the mirror she stands in faded cotton underthings, old but comfortable. This is intimacy's barrier, where innocence disguises give way to shadowed truth.Slowly, the last vestiges of perceived maturity shed away. First go stockings in crisp white, sliding up shapely calves and securing above the knee. Her reflection watches, expression unchanging, as if through someone else's eyes.Next, a simple short-sleeved blouse, buttons slipping closed almost by their own accord. The starchy collar fe

And who's to blame you for wanting rest, after leading this body and soul such merry dances through steam and shadow? My hands have scarce stopped fluttering over shutter and film in fevered efforts to lock your magic onto light. But the equipment lays idle now as I watch your steady breaths, heaving bosom stilled at last beneath clinging sleeves. One hand trails idle upon the padded planks, tracing shapes and sigils that stir memories of moonlit revels beneath the trees. And though wild joys ma

[real model in flesh] Standing alongside Cupid is Psyche, the mortal maiden who captivated his heart. her delicate figure, is infused with an air of innocence and vulnerability. Psyche's tender features and flowing drapery evoke a sense of delicate elegance, while her gaze, filled with a mix of enchantment and trepidation, reveals the depth of her emotions. Cupid and Psyche are intertwined in a tender embrace, their bodies entwined in a dance of love and desire. The contours of their forms, meti

Willow groggily opened her eyes, the soft, diffused light of a chilly New York City morning seeping through the curtains. The sound of distant sirens and the gentle hum of the city's never-ending activity welcomed her to another day. She stretched her arms above her head, pushing herself deeper into the tangle of sheets that enveloped her. The apartment, a cozy one-bedroom in the heart of the city, had become her sanctuary. She lay there for a moment, feeling the warmth of the sun slowly spread

So through steam-hung billows I watch your flowing form's lithe journey unto sanctum more secluded yet - the locker room, where ladies do disrobe in private bower. My eyes peer reverent through mist veil as your dance carries lithe self past padded benches, peeling off each clinging layer 'neath which sacred valleys and flowering knolls emerge nude and glistening for air's soft tongue. Soon your gym garb joins the sweat-damp heap upon the floor, leaving pale curves and secret clefts painted sole

Soon your gym garb joins the sweat-damp heap upon the floor, leaving pale curves and secret clefts painted solely by golden light. One hand lifts free glistening strands from nape, while other thumbs the catch of brassiere in practiced grace. Slow the lace peels back to spill ripe bounties free at last, crowning offerings I dare not yet set starved mouth to sup from. A sigh lifts from your lips, now free of freed of constraining silks, as sunlight's grateful praise bathes nude form in nimbus-ble

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, Megan slowly opened her eyes, her senses still tingling with the remnants of the previous night's encounter. She lifted her gaze to the bedside table, where the talisman rested, its intricate design catching the morning light. A wave of uncertainty washed over her as she pondered the events of the previous night. Was it all just a dream, a vivid projection of her deepest desires? Megan couldn't deny the intensity of the experience, the

[ancien Egypt, real photography] The climax of the dance approaches as Satiah's movements slow once again, transitioning into a graceful tableau. She raises her arms toward the heavens, her expression a mix of awe and reverence. Her dance has conveyed the cyclical nature of existence, the union of mortal and divine, and the profound connection between humanity and the gods. As the haunting melody of flutes and harps begins to play, Satiah enters the center of the room, her presence commanding at

Kira Neyris lay in her bed, her body bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. Her mind drifted between the realms of consciousness and dreams, a state where fantasies danced on the edges of reality. In this semi-sleep, she found herself exploring the depths of her desires, her body a canvas for her most intimate thoughts. As Kira's fingertips grazed her own skin, a shiver of anticipation coursed through her. Her thoughts wandered to the forbidden, to the secret desire

So through steam-hung billows I watch your flowing form's lithe journey unto sanctum more secluded yet - the locker room, where ladies do disrobe in private bower. My eyes peer reverent through mist veil as your dance carries lithe self past padded benches, peeling off each clinging layer 'neath which sacred valleys and flowering knolls emerge nude and glistening for air's soft tongue. Soon your gym garb joins the sweat-damp heap upon the floor, leaving pale curves and secret clefts painted sole

Dahlia walked with her scythe to her apartment, she got undressed and took a shower. Afterwards, she put on a pair of loose cotton pants and a tight shirt.

Sister Magda: Enters the room with an air of serenity, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mystery. She observes Dahlia and Beverly, a faint smile playing on her lips. Ah, Dahlia Death and Beverly Grove, two intriguing souls brought together by the machinations of fate. What brings you both into the depths of this clandestine meeting? Beverly Grove: Tenses slightly, eyeing Sister Magda warily. Sister Magda, forgive me if I approach this meeting with caution. The Order's secrets have caused immense

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