Placeholder: [art by W. Heath Robinson] the reflection in the mirror is not her [art by W. Heath Robinson] the reflection in the mirror is not her

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[art by W. Heath Robinson] the reflection in the mirror is not her

4 months ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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[art by W. Heath Robinson] the reflection in the mirror is not her
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A set of illustrations by Thomas Theodor Heine from Thorheiten, Album von Thomas T. Heine, published by Albert Langen, 1901.
A set of illustrations by Thomas Theodor Heine from Thorheiten, Album von Thomas T. Heine, published by Albert Langen, 1901.
[art by Moebius] the reflection in the mirror in not her
[Disenchantment, Queen Dagmar] spilt to slake her savage thirst. Only when a merchant lord dared question her judgement did Dagmar's lips peel back in a bone-chilling snarl. The oaf wilted as her words flayed flesh from mind, left shaking in a heap upon the floor. This display sated her black humor for now. With a flick of cerulean silk Dagmar rose, grace incarnate yet death given mortal form. Night's frigid wings spread across the cloudy sky as she swept from the hall in a flurry of snow. None
Time seemed to distort as Sophie floated alone in the unending void. She carefully rationed her meager supplies, spending long hours sleeping to conserve oxygen. But even in dreams, panic crept in. She found herself gasping for breath in a sudden waking, the pod walls crushing inward as the air grew thin. Checking readings only heightened her fear - reserves dropping faster than expected. Sophie scrabbled through storage for anything that could boost the failing life support, coming up empty. De
[Disenchantment, Queen Dagmar] The interminable deliberations have lasted past noon, and Dagmar's gnawing hunger has soured her mood beyond reason. Her cerulean gown now seems a suffocating vice as her stomach roils in protest. Each statement from these pen-pushers and bureaucrats only whets her jagged fangs further. When at last the council is dismissed, Dagmar stalks forth like a blizzard given flesh. Her alabaster features appear carved from ice, those sloe eyes glittering with frigid malice.
john bauer, princess followed by troll
Excuse me but I think I'm about do To get into precisely what I am about to do I'm conversating to the folks that have no whatsoever clue So listen very carefully as I break it down for you Merrily merrily merrily merrily hyper happy overjoyed Pleased with all the beats and rhymes my sisters have employed Slick and smooth throwing down the sound totally a yes Let me state the position: Ladies first, yes? (Yes) Believe me when I say being a woman is great, you see I know all the fellas out there
[art by john bauer] Two women, Hijab, Deeply in love, Hug tightly, Share a passionate kiss."
[art by John bauer] Her story began long before the great wars, when the lands of Eliria were still whole, and the veil between realms was thin. Eryndril was not born of mortal men but of the Aether, a being of the deep woods, bound to the life of the trees and rivers that shaped the land. With platinum hair that shimmered like moonlight through the leaves, and eyes the color of deep forest pools, she was as much a part of Lythoria as the ancient oaks and the rivers that fed them.
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