Placeholder: [art by Alex Maleev,] These boots are made for walkin' And that's just what they'll do One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you Ya You keep lyin' when you oughta be truthin' [art by Alex Maleev,] These boots are made for walkin' And that's just what they'll do One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you Ya You keep lyin' when you oughta be truthin'

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[art by Alex Maleev,] These boots are made for walkin' And that's just what they'll do One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you Ya You keep lyin' when you oughta be truthin'

5 months ago

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SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

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1024 × 1024

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[art by Alex Maleev,] You keep sayin' you've got somethin' for me Somethin' you call love but confess You've been a'messin' where you shouldn't 've been a'messin' And now someone else is getting all your best These boots are made for walkin'
At the farthest reaches of the cavernous underground bunker, a solitary figure stood amidst the dimly lit expanse. From this distant vantage point, it was as if a guardian spirit had emerged from the depths of the earth itself. Tank Girl, her unmistakable silhouette recognizable even in the cavern's vastness, stood at the very heart of this subterranean world. The soft, ambient light cast her in a warm, almost ethereal glow, contrasting starkly with the rugged, rocky surroundings. She was a lo
[art by Alex Maleev] the reflection in the mirror is not her
Dressed in a hodgepodge of garments, she wore a weathered leather jacket adorned with patches from countless adventures, neon leggings that clashed brilliantly with her battered combat boots, and a riotous assortment of belts and buckles that jingled with every step. With an ecstatic whoop that echoed through the canyon, Tank Girl bounded toward her beloved tank, a psychedelic masterpiece amidst the natural wonder. The tank's surface was painted in swirling, fluorescent patterns that seemed to
[Grown up Pippi Longstocking by Alex Maleev,] a day in the life of an american model in miami: estas son las botas cowboy espanolas que llevaras incluso en verano
[art by Alex Maleev] “He who can destroy a thing has the real control of it” - Paul Atreides
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 marvel of defian
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
[Alex Maleev] David Bowie: This is Ground Control to Major Tom, You've really made the grade, And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear, Now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare, This is Major Tom to Ground Control, I'm stepping through the door, And I'm floating in a most peculiar way, And the stars look very different today
[art by Alex Maleev] “He who can destroy a thing has the real control of it” - Paul Atreides
At the farthest reaches of the cavernous underground bunker, a solitary figure stood amidst the dimly lit expanse. From this distant vantage point, it was as if a guardian spirit had emerged from the depths of the earth itself. Tank Girl, her unmistakable silhouette recognizable even in the cavern's vastness, stood at the very heart of this subterranean world. The soft, ambient light cast her in a warm, almost ethereal glow, contrasting starkly with the rugged, rocky surroundings. She was a lo
[bokeh] Tank Girl peers out across the blasted desert landscape, her aviator shades shielding her eyes from the blinding glare of sun on sand. The weirder the better, as strange vistas stretch all around under the bleached blue sky. It gets worse every year. They always want something new. Bigger monsters. Odder outsiders eking out survival in the wastes. You dig deeper into my dreams. You feel it, you know... whatever I draw... You know you can stop it... You won't stop it. You live through you
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