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EpicRealism, an early and excellent checkpoint model for SD1.5, tends to frequently generate a specific face type (primarily of Western Latin descent), characterized by thick eyebrows, sharp jawlines, or particular nose shapes, as a 'default' appearance. Even when strong positive prompts specifying other ethnicities or negative prompts are applied, the characteristics of this 'default face' subtly persist and often cannot be fully eliminated. In essence, it becomes difficult to use the model effectively for diverse facial generation.
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This is an AI-generated nude model created at 512x768 pixels using the STOIQOAfrodite F1DAlpha FLUX XL version. It's indistinguishable from a real photo.
The dame walked in at 2 AM smelling like jasmine and trouble, her heels clicking on the linoleum like a ticking bomb. “You the PI who handled the DeLuca case?” she asked, sliding a photo across the bar—some poor sap face-down in a alley puddle. I took a drag on my cigarette, letting the ash drop into my whiskey. “Lady, in this town, everybody handles DeLuca cases until they don't.” The neon sign outside flickered, painting her smirk blood-red. Right then I knew—this job would cost me more than the .38 bullet I'd inevitably eat.
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There are times when an elongated tit shape conveys a distinct gravitas.
The tavern's candlelight flickered across Sir Aldric's weathered face as he drained his third tankard of mead. “Dragons don't bargain, boy,” he growled at the young scribe, who clutched his worn leather journal with trembling hands. Truth be told, I'd seen plenty of wyrms in my day, but none quite like the beast that guarded the Crimson Keep. Its scales gleamed like polished rubies in the mountain sun, and its breath – gods above – could melt stone into streams of liquid fire. Only three of us made it past those ancient walls, and I alone lived to tell the tale. Though sometimes, in the depths of night, I wonder if perhaps I died there too, and this is merely a ghost's remembrance.
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Minori Hatsune, at the time of her debut, emerged as a performer with a distinctly Japanese look—rounded, cheerful facial features paired with large breasts, a classic combination. The AV industry in the late 2000s had not yet been saturated with celebrity-level visuals as it is now, and slightly awkward appearances were still common. She wasn’t a stunning beauty, and yet with her relatively neat and pleasant face, she gained considerable popularity.
The rain-slicked alleys of Neo-Tokyo reeked of burnt circuitry and desperation. I clenched my cybernetic fist, the servos whining as the target’s last bodyguard hit the ground with a wet thud. “You’re out of moves, Kaito,” I spat, leveling my pulse pistol at his temple. The bastard grinned, blood trickling from his split lip. “Wrong. You ever hear of a black hole grenade, choom?” My HUD screamed warnings—too late. The air twisted, reality itself groaning as the singularity erupted. Next thing I knew, I was free-falling through a kaleidoscope of shattered timelines, his laughter echoing like a glitch in the system. “Game over? Nah. Just respawn.”
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Rikka Inui possessed a unique charm composed of a familiar “girl-next-door” facial structure, distinctive smiling eyes with small eyelids, and somewhat prominent cheekbones. Most notably, she must be recognized for her unusually slender and elongated physique—a strikingly anomalous body type that explains her fitting model background. Unlike typical East Asian, she exhibits a small head and an almost supermodel-like 8-heads-tall body ratio, standing 170cm tall.
The downpour hammered the corrugated iron roof, a discordant percussion to the mayhem unfolding within. His trench coat, already sodden, clung to him like a second skin as he surveyed the carnage. Two thugs lay splayed across the linoleum, their expressions frozen in masks of agony. A third clutched a shattered jaw, whimpering like a wounded cur. “Where's the damn ledger?” his voice, a low growl, cut through the din. The whimpering intensified, but no words came. He hefted the length of rebar in his hand, the cold steel a stark contrast to the humid air. “Last chance,” he rasped, the threat implicit in the gesture. Fear, primal and raw, finally flickered in the man's eyes. He gestured weakly towards a battered safe tucked in the corner.
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Rui Hizuki may appear to be just another typical, cute, fresh idol type at first glance. However, in certain camera angles, a subtle aura of seriousness emerges. Her characteristic shyness, reserved demeanor, calmness, modesty, neatness, serenity, intellect, grace, dignity, and maturity are clearly revealed in the first interview clip of her debut (SNIS-664). These traits are not limited to her appearance alone but are also expressed in her tone of voice, speech patterns, and gestures. She had long admired the AV world. Though from a general perspective this may seem incomprehensible—she approaches AV with a sense of professional mission, personal sexual exploration, and a cultural vision. There's a tender gleam in her eyes as she looks into the camera—an innocent anticipation mingled with a dreamlike longing for the AV world she has yearned to enter.