Placeholder: Standing at the corner of the room, a wistful figure emerges from the shadows. Dressed in a vintage attire, their eyes reflect a mix of longing and fond memories. With a tender smile, they hold a love letter close to their heart, lost in the bittersweet reverie of past romance. Standing at the corner of the room, a wistful figure emerges from the shadows. Dressed in a vintage attire, their eyes reflect a mix of longing and fond memories. With a tender smile, they hold a love letter close to their heart, lost in the bittersweet reverie of past romance.

@generalpha

Prompt

Standing at the corner of the room, a wistful figure emerges from the shadows. Dressed in a vintage attire, their eyes reflect a mix of longing and fond memories. With a tender smile, they hold a love letter close to their heart, lost in the bittersweet reverie of past romance.

statue, 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

9 months ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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Standing at the corner of the room, a wistful figure emerges from the shadows. Dressed in a vintage attire, their eyes reflect a mix of longing and fond memories. With a tender smile, they hold a love letter close to their heart, lost in the bittersweet reverie of past romance.
[Renaissance, a Lady] Who was I? Where was I?… The landscape was totally unknown to me, even my body was unfamiliar. What forces brought me here? I searched my mind for memories… There was something there, but it was too clouded… A name… I scanned the horizon. A distant structure rose out of the mists. As evening approached I came upon an enigmatic oasis with a fountain.
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
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.
you find yourself captivated by the image of Maisie Williams, adorned in a vintage gown and exuding a sense of pride, standing confidently in front of a bed. The room is steeped in an air of nostalgia, transporting you to a bygone era. Maisie Williams, with a glimmer of determination in her eyes, stands before the bed, radiating an aura of elegance and confidence. Her vintage gown, adorned with delicate lace and flowing fabric, accentuates her grace and poise. And around her waist, a garnet belt
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
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
Snow White in flesh facing the camera, in her map room
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.
[Renaissance, a Lady, a pond] Who was I? Where was I?… The landscape was totally unknown to me, even my body was unfamiliar. What forces brought me here? I searched my mind for memories… There was something there, but it was too clouded… A name… I scanned the horizon. A distant structure rose out of the mists. As evening approached I came upon an enigmatic oasis with a fountain.
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
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

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