Placeholder: For where my sprite once rested weary, now lies vision to shame the rosy dawn. Fiona reclines 'mid emerald shadows and bronze, swaddled but in whispers of silk begging exploration's caress. One braid yet clings fierce as briar 'long her breast, dark ribbon winding 'gainst skin fine as forest moss. Wild contrast to blooms now bared where light and gloom conspire, sweeter fruits than my penance dares dream to taste or name. Eyes of peridot pin this wretch like any hunter's prize, daring the fainte For where my sprite once rested weary, now lies vision to shame the rosy dawn. Fiona reclines 'mid emerald shadows and bronze, swaddled but in whispers of silk begging exploration's caress. One braid yet clings fierce as briar 'long her breast, dark ribbon winding 'gainst skin fine as forest moss. Wild contrast to blooms now bared where light and gloom conspire, sweeter fruits than my penance dares dream to taste or name. Eyes of peridot pin this wretch like any hunter's prize, daring the fainte

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@generalpha

Prompt

For where my sprite once rested weary, now lies vision to shame the rosy dawn. Fiona reclines 'mid emerald shadows and bronze, swaddled but in whispers of silk begging exploration's caress. One braid yet clings fierce as briar 'long her breast, dark ribbon winding 'gainst skin fine as forest moss. Wild contrast to blooms now bared where light and gloom conspire, sweeter fruits than my penance dares dream to taste or name. Eyes of peridot pin this wretch like any hunter's prize, daring the fainte

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

3328 × 4992

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[fun lingerie] Takes a deft touch to capture her woodland magic on film, that wild spirit too bright fer these studio lights. She slips in now, silent as a deer, braids swinging with hints of heather and moss. My model's an artist in her own right, posing's just play when your blood runs close to the earth. A flick of color here, a glint of mischief in emerald eyes, and Fiona weaves a spell that holds me fast. Click click, I'm lost in her faerie gaze, only the shutter's whir bringing me round. "
Fiona's lithe form strains now in silken attire hugging supple curves, the fabric lush green leaves clothing nature's bounty. Breath speeds fair songbirds' wings, copper locks coil wild as briars . Her eyes too hold mysteries, beckoning watchers. Each lunge and thrust presses the silk yet closer, her magic spins a fog of fertility binding all who gaze upon the sacred exercices she does in her thigh sportswear
Now within nature's verdant vales my form dons dress woven from planet's kindliest fibers, leaves and mosses patching where steel once lay. Hands shape wood and stone with care, tending tasks to nourish all surrounding. Eyes keen as any forest creature's scan for threats, aid those weaker find protection under bough and thicket's sway. Within this woodland hall rings laughter like birdsong where once stood citadels encasing sorrow. Lips curve easy, sharing nourishment harder than any alloy manki
Aye, there she stood before me now, this wild wood nymph in mortal form. At my request she'd posed center-stage under the studio lights, a quiet stillness falling over her. Gone was the slip-away slyness of before; now she granted me her full visage. Head held high she stood, proud and true as an ancient oak. Her twilight braids near reached her hips, leaves and vines and forest spoils twined within. One arm wrapped herself as if in contemplation, whilst the other balanced upon a jutting hip. Th
[sadness, alcoholism, toxic forest] The weirder the better. Alcohol, a dangerous elixir, only worsened Tinkerbell's struggles. Her once radiant wings dulled, her spirit withered. Lost and disconnected, her emerald eyes now reflect profound sadness. Clutching the stolen glass, she seeks solace in its warmth. The forbidden vessel mirrors her desires. Longing and hesitation dance in her gaze. The amber liquid sways, casting a glow upon her face, mirroring the flickering flame within. The weight of
The studio door creaked open, and she strode in like a woodland sprite emerging from the forest mist. Long locks the color of autumn maple leaves spilled from her woven braids, bound with strips of leather dyed shades of heather and moss. Her eyes shone bright as berries beneath arched brows, keenly taking in her surroundings. Lithe and lean she stood before me, clad from neck to ankle in shadowsilk that molded itself to her athletic form. Bracers encircled wrists and forearms, supple leathers d
[faerie] In this moment, Fiona is the very embodiment of the forest's joy and magic. Her laughter, her playfulness, and her connection with the world around her are all reflections of the boundless wonder that resides within her. As she rolls amidst the ferns, she's not just a faerie; she's a living testament to the beauty of surrendering to the magic of the moment.
For where my sprite once rested weary, now lies vision to shame the rosy dawn. Fiona reclines 'mid emerald shadows and bronze, swaddled but in whispers of silk begging exploration's caress. One braid yet clings fierce as briar 'long her breast, dark ribbon winding 'gainst skin fine as forest moss. Wild contrast to blooms now bared where light and gloom conspire, sweeter fruits than my penance dares dream to taste or name. Eyes of peridot pin this wretch like any hunter's prize, daring the fainte
See yon Fiona there with locks like serpents coiled o'er pale shoulders, lashes framing eyes bright and dancing as forest streams. Lass moves with grace that shames the rustling willow, supple and lithe as any doe that hunts my heart's desires. That dark kit clings like a second skin, tracing thighs and swells meant for passionate pursuits! Naught leaves secrets from this shutter-man's gaze, save where shadowed glades whisper pleasures unveiled. Each flex and lunge awakens scents headier than me
Fiona's lithe form strains now in silken attire hugging supple curves, the fabric lush green leaves clothing nature's bounty. Breath speeds fair songbirds' wings, copper locks coil wild as briars . Her eyes too hold mysteries, beckoning watchers. Each lunge and thrust presses the silk yet closer, her magic spins a fog of fertility binding all who gaze upon the sacred exercices she does in her thigh sportswear
[faerie] In this moment, Fiona is the very embodiment of the forest's joy and magic. Her laughter, her playfulness, and her connection with the world around her are all reflections of the boundless wonder that resides within her. As she rolls amidst the ferns, she's not just a faerie; she's a living testament to the beauty of surrendering to the magic of the moment. Marilyn Monroe is a funny faerie.
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