Placeholder: I'm mean 'n I'm bad, y'know I ain't no sissy Got a big-titty girly by the name of Chrissy Talkin' about her 'n my bike 'n me 'N this ride up the Mountain of Mystery, mystery I'm mean 'n I'm bad, y'know I ain't no sissy Got a big-titty girly by the name of Chrissy Talkin' about her 'n my bike 'n me 'N this ride up the Mountain of Mystery, mystery

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@generalpha

Prompt

I'm mean 'n I'm bad, y'know I ain't no sissy Got a big-titty girly by the name of Chrissy Talkin' about her 'n my bike 'n me 'N this ride up the Mountain of Mystery, mystery

distorted image, malformed body, malformed fingers

8 months ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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I'm mean 'n I'm bad, y'know I ain't no sissy Got a big-titty girly by the name of Chrissy Talkin' about her 'n my bike 'n me 'N this ride up the Mountain of Mystery, mystery
riding a motorbike
(high res photo by unknown surrealist artist) scifi Princess as a tattooed gangsta nun in her iconic outfit, she is driving a speeder moto in the jungle, aiming with her scifi rigle in hand, ready to shoot
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
I'm mean 'n I'm bad, y'know I ain't no sissy Got a big-titty girly by the name of Chrissy Talkin' about her 'n my bike 'n me 'N this ride up the Mountain of Mystery, mystery
Wednesday Addams on a motorcycle
(high res photo by unknown surrealist artist) scifi Princess as a tattooed gangsta nun in her iconic outfit, she is driving a speeder moto in the jungle, aiming with her scifi rigle in hand, ready to shoot
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
riding a motorbike
The Toxic Nightmares who were once rugged motorcycle bikers gang and their sexy girlfriend strippers who are No Longer Human now mutants of their own kind. Are the protectors who are fighting off mercenaries, zombies, and other dangers along the way.
she is in the fields on a bike in cotton agent provocateur, she looks back over her shoulder; rear view
Sganarelle, that witty and comical character, riding a bike in the middle of a play by Molière, with his traditional attire and perhaps a touch of modern flair, pedaling furiously through the stage (sci-fi concept design, cyberpunk style motorcycle mixed Mad Max with big engine and rider, with vintage advertising all over the body, graffiti, rusty, at the Burning Man festival, H. R. Giger, Moebius style)
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