Placeholder: Tank Girl is in a biker gang Tank Girl is in a biker gang

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@generalpha

Prompt

Tank Girl is in a biker gang

distorted image, malformed body, malformed fingers

7 days ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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Tank Girl in her iconic scene
Right, let's think up Tank Girl's latest shenanigans. I picture her zooming across the wastelands on her trusty dragster, her ripped leather jacket and orange Mohawk looking quite spooky in the dust storm winds. The desert stretches out ahead, not another drongo in sight for miles. But somewhere in the sprawl, a spooky sound rises above the howlin' drones. She revs the engine and speeds towards the commotion, trusty boiled lolly in hand just in case of bikie trouble. As her wheels screech around
Tank Girl wore a patchwork of punk-rock attire, each piece a symbol of her fierce individuality. A tattered leather jacket, adorned with an eclectic assortment of pins and patches, clung to her lithe frame. Fishnet stockings ran beneath the cutoff shorts that defied the scorching heat. Her combat boots were worn and scuffed, bearing witness to countless adventures across the wastelands. In her grip, she held a weapon that was both her ally and her declaration of defiance—a hefty, modified firear
Tank Girl wore a patchwork of punk-rock attire, each piece a symbol of her fierce individuality. A tattered leather jacket, adorned with an eclectic assortment of pins and patches, clung to her lithe frame. Fishnet stockings ran beneath the cutoff shorts that defied the scorching heat. Her combat boots were worn and scuffed, bearing witness to countless adventures across the wastelands. In her grip, she held a weapon that was both her ally and her declaration of defiance—a hefty, modified firear
Tank Girl is in a biker gang with Bebop and Rocksteady
With an irresistible grin that dared the world to challenge her audacity, Tank Girl's eyes sparkled with a mischievous fire. They held a depth of knowledge and experience, as if they had witnessed a lifetime of adventures in this unforgiving landscape. Her attire was a testament to her eclectic allure—she wore a leather jacket adorned with patches, the badges of her rebellious journey, and neon leggings that accentuated her lithe form. Every piece of clothing was a statement, a declaration of h
Tank Girl in her iconic scene
Right, let's think up Tank Girl's latest shenanigans. I picture her zooming across the wastelands on her trusty dragster, her ripped leather jacket and orange Mohawk looking quite spooky in the dust storm winds. The desert stretches out ahead, not another drongo in sight for miles. But somewhere in the sprawl, a spooky sound rises above the howlin' drones. She revs the engine and speeds towards the commotion, trusty boiled lolly in hand just in case of bikie trouble. As her wheels screech around
Tank Girl wore a patchwork of punk-rock attire, each piece a symbol of her fierce individuality. A tattered leather jacket, adorned with an eclectic assortment of pins and patches, clung to her lithe frame. Fishnet stockings ran beneath the cutoff shorts that defied the scorching heat. Her combat boots were worn and scuffed, bearing witness to countless adventures across the wastelands. In her grip, she held a weapon that was both her ally and her declaration of defiance—a hefty, modified firear
tank girl by Greg Smallwood
middle way between Tank Girl and Mad Max
[sexy Tank Girl] Amidst the surreal and mutant landscape, a peculiar figure stood at the center of the unfolding tableau, a solitary beacon of audacity amidst the strange beauty of this world. It was Tank Girl, her silhouette unmistakable even from afar, a distant enigma in this surreal realm. From my elevated vantage point, she appeared as a lone wanderer, a tiny but defiant figure amidst the contorted flora and nightmarish creatures that inhabited the mutant environment. Her tank, an eccentric
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