Prompt: Pop art, a woman with blue hair, pink smoke coming out of her head, a yellow background — i
inbal lowenstein
**Model:** Pop-art
Prompt:
Pop art, a woman with blue hair, pink smoke coming out of her head, a yellow background
**Scale:** 7
**Steps:** 25
**Seed:** 346395472
**Width:** 1024
**Height:** 1024
**Sampler:** DPM++ 2M SDE Karras

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$Prompt: Her face is a living Anosov diffeomorphism, warped by smooth chaos and streaked with sparkly turbulence—like a weather map possessed by a disco demon. Every contour stretches and folds in spectral arcs, her skin twisting under invisible vector fields. Cheekbones shimmer with dynamic strain—rainbow light pulled taut across nonlinear saddles, then torn and refracted into kaleidoscopic flare. Her forehead blooms in stretch–fold spirals, not wrinkles but turbulent ridges of directional entropy, speckled with chromatic flares like lightning caught mid-burst. Her nose splits and rebinds across invisible topologies, and her lips shimmer with glittering bifurcation glitches—kissable only if you can withstand the dimensional drag. Hair? Forget it. Her hair is a fractalized turbulence field, sculpted from vector curl and shimmering noise. Each lock twists in recursive feedback loops, spark-streaked and semi-transparent, shedding particles of chaos with every motion. They leave trails—rainbow wakes of curl noise, like math smoke made of sequins. Every strand is an orbit. Every orbit is unstable sparkle geometry, refracting your gaze through a thousand stretched axes. She pulses with entropy glam—her beauty isn’t symmetry, it’s momentum. Glitter flashes like shockwaves across her cheek, controlled only by the rules of instability. You don’t see her face; you experience its deformation. She is made of math, but she shines like a corrupted disco angel mid-eclipse. Tags: #AnosovTurbulenceQueen #GlitchSparkleFlow #ChaoticDeformationBeauty #VectorFieldHair #FractalTurbulenceCurls #EntropyGlam #StretchFoldShine$

Prompt: A woman’s face hovers in blank dimensional stillness, drawn with trembling black ink lines and painted in acid-bright gouache hues. Rendered in the surreal, analog aesthetic of La Planète Sauvage, she is not real but ritual—her expression shaped by massive, distorted Turing patterns that spiral, fork, and bloom across her skin like psychedelic camouflage from some intelligent jungle of chemical physics. These reaction-diffusion forms are grotesquely oversized: striped like radioactive zebras, spotted like neon leopards, smeared and warped across her brow, cheeks, and chin with ceremonial boldness. Each line curls unnaturally around her facial structure—forking across the nose bridge, coiling tight around the eyes, blooming from cheekbones like freeze-frame chemical shockwaves.

Her skin glows with electric saturation—blazing lemon, toxic magenta, caustic lime, UV orange, and venom-indigo. No blending, no softness—just flat, radiant color planes applied with painterly stubbornness. Every surface pops like printed acid. Her cheeks flicker with moiré shimmer and chromatic twitch; her jawline hums with optical interference patterns. The whole face vibrates with sacred discomfort.

Her hair erupts in reaction-diffusion filaments—tangled dendrites of illustrated plasma, each strand a curl of iridescent pseudoscience. Forked wavefronts radiate outward, drawn in jagged fluorescent ink: slime yellow, battery acid teal, fuchsia blaze, scorching cyan. The curls bend like equations, branching like luminous circuitry, flickering with internal math.

Behind her, a pale paper void—a ritual space of flatness and impossibility. No light source. No realism. Only hand-painted emergence. She is not a woman, but a sacred pattern loop given face: glowing, algorithmic, and too bright to look at directly. A chemical goddess drawn by an alien hand.

Prompt: Pop art, a woman with blue hair, pink smoke coming out of her head, a yellow background donald trump the word tremendous across the front