Placeholder: A massive tree stands in the middle, split in two by a crackling lightning bolt. On the left side, a model in haute couture dress. On the right side, an old rusted bike. A massive tree stands in the middle, split in two by a crackling lightning bolt. On the left side, a model in haute couture dress. On the right side, an old rusted bike.

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@generalpha

Prompt

A massive tree stands in the middle, split in two by a crackling lightning bolt. On the left side, a model in haute couture dress. On the right side, an old rusted bike.

distorted image, malformed body, malformed fingers

7 months ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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A massive tree stands in the middle, split in two by a crackling lightning bolt. On the left side, a model in haute couture dress. On the right side, an extraordinary unicorn waiting for her.
faerie young woman, Through the thick woods you stride, their splendor profound,Senses awash with grandeur, emotions tightly wound.Leaving home and loved ones, a painful farewell,But vengeance ignites within, a tale to tell.Determined you stand, seeking justice for your guide,Embarking on a journey where fate will decide.Thrills course through your veins, uncertainty in the air,A mix of emotions, a blend beyond compare.
[psychedelic vision of the forest] she is the maid, she is a fairy, she eat too many of these mushrooms! she is now all dancing all the way to the village with her fiends the animals of the forest: We are laughing loud and loving nature and animals. This is a so great adventure for a maid: being the Lover of the forest!
OutsideFate
Fiona, the faerie, emerges from behind a gnarled oak tree, her presence as ephemeral as the wisps of mist that dance through the forest. She is a vision of ethereal beauty, her form petite and delicate, her wings barely noticeable—a pair of small, translucent appendages that flutter delicately as if they were made of gossamer. Her eyes, the color of emerald leaves kissed by the morning dew, sparkle with an ancient wisdom that seems to pierce through the very fabric of your being. But it is her w
[very impressive high res masterpiece in Kodak Eastman 5247, scene by László Krasznahorkai] Oh-oh, here she comes (watch out) She'll only come out at night, ooh Oh-oh, here she comes (here she comes) She's a man-eater, ooh-ooh [Pan's Labyrinth (2006)]
In shadows, figure stands, wistful and serene, Vintage attire, eyes reflecting love's lost scene. Love letters flutter, whispers of passion's plea, Gramophone's warmth amplifies melodies free. Soft petals descend, a dance of memories unseen. Bittersweet reverie, past romances held dear, Nostalgia's embrace, a tender smile sincere. Time stands still, as hearts find solace and reflection, Valentine's Nostalgia, an eternal connection. In a single frame, love's essence captured here.
See yon Fiona there with locks like serpents coiled o'er pale shoulders, lashes framing eyes bright and dancing as forest streams. Lass moves with grace that shames the rustling willow, supple and lithe as any doe that hunts my heart's desires. That dark kit clings like a second skin, tracing thighs and swells meant for passionate pursuits! Naught leaves secrets from this shutter-man's gaze, save where shadowed glades whisper pleasures unveiled. Each flex and lunge awakens scents headier than me
With a deep breath, dearie Fiona let herself be embraced by the water's embrace, her form becoming one with its liquid embrace. The feeling was ethereal, as if the lake itself was a conduit to another realm. She glided with a fluid grace, her movements a reflection of the dance she and Deery had shared in the forest. As the water enveloped her, Fiona's hair fanned out like strands of moonlit silver, creating an otherworldly halo around her. Her skin seemed to shimmer with a natural radiance
Aye, there she stood before me now, this wild wood nymph in mortal form. At my request she'd posed center-stage under the studio lights, a quiet stillness falling over her. Gone was the slip-away slyness of before; now she granted me her full visage. Head held high she stood, proud and true as an ancient oak. Her twilight braids near reached her hips, leaves and vines and forest spoils twined within. One arm wrapped herself as if in contemplation, whilst the other balanced upon a jutting hip. Th
With a deep breath, dearie Fiona let herself be embraced by the water's embrace, her form becoming one with its liquid embrace. The feeling was ethereal, as if the lake itself was a conduit to another realm. She glided with a fluid grace, her movements a reflection of the dance she and Deery had shared in the forest. As the water enveloped her, Fiona's hair fanned out like strands of moonlit silver, creating an otherworldly halo around her. Her skin seemed to shimmer with a natural radiance
Fiona, the faerie, emerges from behind a gnarled oak tree, her presence as ephemeral as the wisps of mist that dance through the forest. She is a vision of ethereal beauty, her form petite and delicate, her wings barely noticeable—a pair of small, translucent appendages that flutter delicately as if they were made of gossamer. Her eyes, the color of emerald leaves kissed by the morning dew, sparkle with an ancient wisdom that seems to pierce through the very fabric of your being. But it is her w
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