Placeholder: The rain came down in torrents, each droplet a tiny missile assaulting her senses. The salty spray of the sea mingled with the tears that streamed down her cheeks, indistinguishable in their anguish. Nature mirrored her own inner turmoil, a symphony of chaos echoing the tempestuous thoughts that consumed her. The rain came down in torrents, each droplet a tiny missile assaulting her senses. The salty spray of the sea mingled with the tears that streamed down her cheeks, indistinguishable in their anguish. Nature mirrored her own inner turmoil, a symphony of chaos echoing the tempestuous thoughts that consumed her.

@generalpha

Prompt

The rain came down in torrents, each droplet a tiny missile assaulting her senses. The salty spray of the sea mingled with the tears that streamed down her cheeks, indistinguishable in their anguish. Nature mirrored her own inner turmoil, a symphony of chaos echoing the tempestuous thoughts that consumed her.

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

8 months ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

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1024 × 1024

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The rain came down in torrents, each droplet a tiny missile assaulting her senses. The salty spray of the sea mingled with the tears that streamed down her cheeks, indistinguishable in their anguish. Nature mirrored her own inner turmoil, a symphony of chaos echoing the tempestuous thoughts that consumed her.
stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
Seemingly lastless, don't mean You can ask us Pushing down the relative Bringing out your higher self Think of the fine times, pushing Down the better few, instead of Bringing out the clues, to what the World and everything anger to, brace Yourself with the grace of ease I know this world ain't what it seems
[scifi, a woman] 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.
Wash away my troubles Wash away my pain With the rain in Shambala Wash away my sorrow Wash away my shame With the rain in Shambala Ah ooh yeah
Oh life is bigger It's bigger than you And you are not me The lengths that I will go to The distance in your eyes Oh no I've said too much I set it up
In a desolate post-apocalyptic world, sepia women glide through swirling sand, their haunting grace echoing amidst destruction. Surrealism infuses my words as I delve into the minimalist setting, reflecting the bleak struggle for survival in a colorless, unforgiving landscape.
In this uninhibited state, Megan felt a profound sense of freedom. She released the constraints of societal norms, allowing her desires to flow freely, uninhibited by judgment or shame. The mud became a conduit for her most authentic self, an expression of her untamed passions and a reflection of the depths of her desires. As the sun began to set and the day faded into twilight, Megan and the Grand Mistress emerged from the muddy embrace of the swamp. Their bodies glistened with a mixture of mud
Wash away my troubles Wash away my pain With the rain in Shambala Wash away my sorrow Wash away my shame With the rain in Shambala Ah ooh yeah
stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
In a place where no one ever came close to dreaming about... a place from a foaming brain, there is a tiny ripple of truth that duplicates sanity to reality... existence of self-pity and triumph! This is a long gone dream in which only lost souls find mercy from a god of an insane creation! Blowing cold winds that come from an uneven breathing pattern warm the frigid core of the sun! Rotting brain from inside the brittle bone of an old branch impatiently waiting to outgrow the sky… You are lost
In a place where no one ever came close to dreaming about... a place from a foaming brain, there is a tiny ripple of truth that duplicates sanity to reality... existence of self-pity and triumph! This is a long gone dream in which only lost souls find mercy from a god of an insane creation! Blowing cold winds that come from an uneven breathing pattern warm the frigid core of the sun! Rotting brain from inside the brittle bone of an old branch impatiently waiting to outgrow the sky… You are lost

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