Placeholder: Among the simple country folks, even at the present day, a bridegroom stands in dread of the envy of the Elves,to counteract which it has long been a custom to lay in the clothes on the wedding day certain strong-smelling plants, as garlic or valerian Among the simple country folks, even at the present day, a bridegroom stands in dread of the envy of the Elves,to counteract which it has long been a custom to lay in the clothes on the wedding day certain strong-smelling plants, as garlic or valerian

@generalpha

Prompt

Among the simple country folks, even at the present day, a bridegroom stands in dread of the envy of the Elves,to counteract which it has long been a custom to lay in the clothes on the wedding day certain strong-smelling plants, as garlic or valerian

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

5 months ago

Generate Similar

Explore Similar

Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

Similar

Among the simple country folks, even at the present day, a bridegroom stands in dread of the envy of the Elves,to counteract which it has long been a custom to lay in the clothes on the wedding day certain strong-smelling plants, as garlic or valerian
In shadows, figure stands, wistful and serene, Vintage attire, eyes reflecting love's lost scene. Love letters flutter, whispers of passion's plea, Gramophone's warmth amplifies melodies free. Soft petals descend, a dance of memories unseen. Bittersweet reverie, past romances held dear, Nostalgia's embrace, a tender smile sincere. Time stands still, as hearts find solace and reflection, Valentine's Nostalgia, an eternal connection. In a single frame, love's essence captured here.
Now within leafy groves as serene as cloisters of yore, my form slips free from dress of silk and samite, assuming nature's grace with joy's ease. Skin glows dapple-fair as forest's child, lithe limbs contouring smooth as birch limbs swollen with spring's rebirth. Tresses spill unbound, shadows rich as loam where patient roots delve deep. Eyes peek doe-like through lashes lush as fern-fronds veiling slumbering dreams beneath. Lips curve soft as floral cushions where birds might nest, breathing s
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 weary nymph once rested, now a vision lies that puts the dawn's blush to shame. Fiona lounges 'mid glades of greenery and bronze, clad in whispers of silk that beg exploration's hand. Lace trails o'er curves lithe as ivy stems, blessing glimpses of fruits no tongue dare name. And oh, those locks - like streams of smoothest onyx they pool, spilling from braids wrought fierce as heather brawling 'gainst the stone. Wild contrasts to the blooms now bared where shadow plays, sweetly tauntin
faerie young woman, Through the thick woods you stride, their splendor profound,Senses awash with grandeur, emotions tightly wound.Leaving home and loved ones, a painful farewell,But vengeance ignites within, a tale to tell.Determined you stand, seeking justice for your guide,Embarking on a journey where fate will decide.Thrills course through your veins, uncertainty in the air,A mix of emotions, a blend beyond compare.
But it's the eyes that own me soul entire, peridots bright as the first blooms of spring. They see me shutter's hunger and kinda grant permission, urging me deeper into this dance of deadline and desire. So come, my woodland temptress - let me drink my fill before the world's call drags me back to truer day. I am your willing subject in this hallowed glade... now show me real magic, my Fae queen, and I shall capture it always!
Fantasy_royalist_woman_on_rocks
For where weary nymph once rested, now a vision lies that puts the dawn's blush to shame. Fiona lounges 'mid glades of greenery and bronze, clad in whispers of silk that beg exploration's hand. Lace trails o'er curves lithe as ivy stems, blessing glimpses of fruits no tongue dare name. And oh, those locks - like streams of smoothest onyx they pool, spilling from braids wrought fierce as heather brawling 'gainst the stone. Wild contrasts to the blooms now bared where shadow plays, sweetly tauntin
In shadows, figure stands, wistful and serene, Vintage attire, eyes reflecting love's lost scene. Love letters flutter, whispers of passion's plea, Gramophone's warmth amplifies melodies free. Soft petals descend, a dance of memories unseen. Bittersweet reverie, past romances held dear, Nostalgia's embrace, a tender smile sincere. Time stands still, as hearts find solace and reflection, Valentine's Nostalgia, an eternal connection. In a single frame, love's essence captured here.
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
heroic fantasy scene: he looks upon the fallen bodies of her foes, her gaze filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. The memories of her sisters, her mother, and Xho, the ones she could not protect, weigh heavily on her soul. Their faces flash before her eyes, their voices whispering in her ears, a constant reminder of the pain she carries. With her sword in hand and her heart set on her goal, Zhaania embraces the reality that her journey may lead her to the brink of her own mortality. The

© 2024 Stablecog, Inc.