Placeholder: tank girl by Greg Smallwood tank girl by Greg Smallwood

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Prompt

tank girl by Greg Smallwood

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

3 months ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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Tank Girl in her iconic scene
Tank Girl, never one to shy away from pushing boundaries, continued her audacious display of defiance. She holstered her modified firearm briefly on her hip, then, with a sly grin, brought it up to her lips, sensuously licking the barrel in a provocative manner. Her actions were both a testament to her irreverent spirit and a calculated challenge to anyone who might underestimate her. As the camera captured the daring act, the metal of the gun glistened under the unforgiving desert sun, making
Tank Girl, never one to shy away from pushing boundaries, continued her audacious display of defiance. She holstered her modified firearm briefly on her hip, then, with a sly grin, brought it up to her lips, sensuously licking the barrel in a provocative manner. Her actions were both a testament to her irreverent spirit and a calculated challenge to anyone who might underestimate her. As the camera captured the daring act, the metal of the gun glistened under the unforgiving desert sun, making
[sexy Tank Girl] 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
tank girl by Greg Smallwood
Tank Girl, never one to shy away from pushing boundaries, continued her audacious display of defiance. She holstered her modified firearm briefly on her hip, then, with a sly grin, brought it up to her lips, sensuously licking the barrel in a provocative manner. Her actions were both a testament to her irreverent spirit and a calculated challenge to anyone who might underestimate her. As the camera captured the daring act, the metal of the gun glistened under the unforgiving desert sun, making
Tank Girl in her iconic scene
With an irresistible grin that dared the world to challenge her audacity, Tank Girl's eyes sparkled with a mischievous fire. They held a depth of knowledge and experience, as if they had witnessed a lifetime of adventures in this unforgiving landscape. Her attire was a testament to her eclectic allure—she wore a leather jacket adorned with patches, the badges of her rebellious journey, and neon leggings that accentuated her lithe form. Every piece of clothing was a statement, a declaration of h
Tank Girl wore a patchwork of punk-rock attire, each piece a symbol of her fierce individuality. A tattered leather jacket, adorned with an eclectic assortment of pins and patches, clung to her lithe frame. Fishnet stockings ran beneath the cutoff shorts that defied the scorching heat. Her combat boots were worn and scuffed, bearing witness to countless adventures across the wastelands. In her grip, she held a weapon that was both her ally and her declaration of defiance—a hefty, modified firear
Tank Girl's tank, a bizarre amalgamation of salvaged parts and defiant engineering, seemed like a mere dot against the backdrop of the decaying world. The roar of its engine was a distant murmur, carried faintly by the wind, barely audible from where I stood. As I strained my eyes to catch a glimpse of her, it became apparent that she was a fleeting mirage, a lone wanderer in a forsaken realm. Her wild hair and rebellious attire were mere brushstrokes of color in the muted palette of the wastel
Tank Girl wore a patchwork of punk-rock attire, each piece a symbol of her fierce individuality. A tattered leather jacket, adorned with an eclectic assortment of pins and patches, clung to her lithe frame. Fishnet stockings ran beneath the cutoff shorts that defied the scorching heat. Her combat boots were worn and scuffed, bearing witness to countless adventures across the wastelands. In her grip, she held a weapon that was both her ally and her declaration of defiance—a hefty, modified firear
Tank Girl wore a patchwork of punk-rock attire, each piece a symbol of her fierce individuality. A tattered leather jacket, adorned with an eclectic assortment of pins and patches, clung to her lithe frame. Fishnet stockings ran beneath the cutoff shorts that defied the scorching heat. Her combat boots were worn and scuffed, bearing witness to countless adventures across the wastelands. In her grip, she held a weapon that was both her ally and her declaration of defiance—a hefty, modified firear

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