Placeholder: rasta rat priest king, cyberpunk setting, shooting at glass wall on the tram rasta rat priest king, cyberpunk setting, shooting at glass wall on the tram

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@Haraberget

Prompt

rasta rat priest king, cyberpunk setting, shooting at glass wall on the tram

6 months ago

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Model

FLUX.1

Guidance Scale

9

Dimensions

1536 × 640

Similar

rasta rat priest king, cyberpunk setting, shooting at glass wall
the yoga rat man, bigblack iris eyes with white glints, ou’re looking at someone who doesn’t just walk into shadows—they belong to them. The black robes cling like a second skin, the belt tied tight with gold thread that catches the light only when he moves. His face is wrapped, but not hidden—his eyes glow like embers, red and steady, as if he’s already seen what waits inside the cave. The tail curls behind him, not in fear, but in readiness. He doesn’t need a torch, because the darkness
the yoga rat man, bigblack iris eyes with white glints, ou’re looking at someone who doesn’t just walk into shadows—they belong to them. The black robes cling like a second skin, the belt tied tight with gold thread that catches the light only when he moves. His face is wrapped, but not hidden—his eyes glow like embers, red and steady, as if he’s already seen what waits inside the cave. The tail curls behind him, not in fear, but in readiness. He doesn’t need a torch, because the darkness
master oil painting by Rembrandt, good afternoon bitch scary hot seductive bug rat chess piece riding sports bike with motion blur and smeared lights in the night, stylistic poster, in the style of total recall, huge bug rat in the background
rasta rat priest with blunt, cyberpunk setting, inspecting glass wall on the tram
rasta rat king, cyberpunk setting
bad ass cyberpunk rasta bard tell us how he grew up and buildt his crew, and gets suprised by robot gangsters kicking in his doors
the yoga rat man, big black iris eyes with yellow glints, ou’re looking at someone who doesn’t just walk into shadows—they belong to them. The black robes cling like a second skin, the belt tied tight with gold thread that catches the light only when he moves. His face is wrapped, but not hidden—his eyes glow like embers, red and steady, as if he’s already seen what waits inside the cave. The tail curls behind him, not in fear, but in readiness. He doesn’t need a torch, because the darkness
rasta rat priest king, cyberpunk setting, inspecting glass wall on the tram
the yoga rat man, bigblack iris eyes with yellow glints, ou’re looking at someone who doesn’t just walk into shadows—they belong to them. The black robes cling like a second skin, the belt tied tight with gold thread that catches the light only when he moves. His face is wrapped, but not hidden—his eyes glow like embers, red and steady, as if he’s already seen what waits inside the cave. The tail curls behind him, not in fear, but in readiness. He doesn’t need a torch, because the darkness
cyberpunk weasel rasta man with cute fur, in big cyberpunk city
the yoga rat man, big black iris eyes with yellow glints, ou’re looking at someone who doesn’t just walk into shadows—they belong to them. The black robes cling like a second skin, the belt tied tight with gold thread that catches the light only when he moves. His face is wrapped, but not hidden—his eyes glow like embers, red and steady, as if he’s already seen what waits inside the cave. The tail curls behind him, not in fear, but in readiness. He doesn’t need a torch, because the darkness
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