Placeholder: nightgow nightgow

@generalpha

Prompt

nightgow

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

2 years ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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I am the slayer of evil and the bane of the burning hells. I went back to the darkest depths of Hell, where Lilith, the daughter of hatred, awaits me. I will not falter, I will not fear. I am the Nephalem and because of our lineage, they loved us. And because of our difference, they feared us. Our existence would forever alter the balance of power in the Great Conflict.
the mystical vampire huntress adopts a powerful posture, her form shrouded in mystery as she stands against her foes. With an over-the-shoulder view, her bespoke warrior ensemble decorated with onyx tracery and darkness symbols shimmers under starlight, throwing spectral forms across the landscape. In this imposing Victory Position, she reveals her commanding nature through her midnight warrior garb and bearing, embodying her might and self-assurance in instances of crisis.
Careless nature gentle stare You fell like rain in the dark abysses Kissed the lips of bloody twinsis Sung to you a slew of sirens Tricky mermaids and evil pirates You watched the sky With kaleidoscopic eyes Howling out right
I am the slayer of evil and the bane of the burning hells. I went back to the darkest depths of Hell, where Lilith, the daughter of hatred, awaits me. I will not falter, I will not fear. I am the Nephalem and because of our lineage, they loved us. And because of our difference, they feared us. Our existence would forever alter the balance of power in the Great Conflict.
In the shadowed glade, where the moon cast an eerie glow, a figure emerged from the darkness. A demoness, with goat horns spiraling from her head, stood tall and proud. Her vestal linen dress stained with the blood of the sacrifice she had just made. The demoness wielded a sword, gleaming in the moonlight, a weapon of ancient power and dark intent. Her eyes, a fiery gaze that spoke of untold secrets and forbidden knowledge, surveyed the scene before her with a mix of satisfaction and hunger. The
nightgow
[she offers terrible candies] In the eerie glow of the moonlight, a predator woman prowls the silent streets on Halloween night. Her eyes gleam with a chilling intensity, a hunter's gaze fixed on her unsuspecting prey. She moves with a deadly grace, her presence exuding a sense of danger and allure. This predator woman, covered with blood and tattoos, is not just a creature of the night, she is a serial killer, a dark force that strikes fear into the hearts of those who cross her path. Her movem
As the final moments of her incubation ticked away, a surge of energy coursed through her veins, awakening her senses. Her eyelids fluttered, and with a gentle grace, her eyes opened for the first time, revealing orbs of inquisitive wonder. The sight that greeted her was both awe-inspiring and overwhelming. She found herself encased within a transparent shell, perched atop the surface of Pandora. Rays of iridescent sunlight pierced through the dense atmosphere, casting a kaleidoscope of colors u
the mystical vampire huntress adopts a powerful posture, her form shrouded in mystery as she stands against her foes. With an over-the-shoulder view, her bespoke warrior ensemble decorated with onyx tracery and darkness symbols shimmers under starlight, throwing spectral forms across the landscape. In this imposing Victory Position, she reveals her commanding nature through her midnight warrior garb and bearing, embodying her might and self-assurance in instances of crisis.
heroic fantasy scene: Norgal's eyes narrow slightly, captivated by Zhaania's words. He senses a profound truth in her words, a recognition that there is more to their encounter than a mere battle of strength. He lowers his weapon slightly, a sign of respect for Zhaania's words. "You speak with a wisdom beyond your years, Zhaania," Norgal concedes, a newfound appreciation evident in his tone.
O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul, that struggling to be free, Art more engag’d! Help, angels! Make assay: Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel,
Behold, the obsidian huntress! Her beauty is as captivating as a storm cloud, with dark skin that gleams like polished ebony under the flickering torchlight. Pointed elven ears, reminiscent of a Castlevania vampiress, frame a face as striking as a panther's. A smile, both alluring and predatory, bares sharp fangs that glint with an unnatural sheen. Her eyes, the color of smoldering embers, seem to hold the secrets of forgotten battlefields.

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