Placeholder: He guards those waters and those rivers, the horrible ferryman Charon, whose filthiness is frightening; on his chest falls a disheveled long white beard, flames gush from his eyes; a sordid cloak hangs from his shoulders, fastened with a knot: he himself steers his black boat with a hook, sets the sails and carries the dead in it, old now, but green and sturdy in his old age, as befits a god. He guards those waters and those rivers, the horrible ferryman Charon, whose filthiness is frightening; on his chest falls a disheveled long white beard, flames gush from his eyes; a sordid cloak hangs from his shoulders, fastened with a knot: he himself steers his black boat with a hook, sets the sails and carries the dead in it, old now, but green and sturdy in his old age, as befits a god.

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Prompt

He guards those waters and those rivers, the horrible ferryman Charon, whose filthiness is frightening; on his chest falls a disheveled long white beard, flames gush from his eyes; a sordid cloak hangs from his shoulders, fastened with a knot: he himself steers his black boat with a hook, sets the sails and carries the dead in it, old now, but green and sturdy in his old age, as befits a god.

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

10 months ago

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SSD-1B

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7

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1024 × 1024

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He guards those waters and those rivers, the horrible ferryman Charon, whose filthiness is frightening; on his chest falls a disheveled long white beard, flames gush from his eyes; a sordid cloak hangs from his shoulders, fastened with a knot: he himself steers his black boat with a hook, sets the sails and carries the dead in it, old now, but green and sturdy in his old age, as befits a god.
[coffee] A Viking on a Viking ship, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, glided gracefully across the vast expanse of the sea. But this was no ordinary sea; it was a sea of coffee, as dark as the stormy skies above. The Viking's long, flowing hair whipped in the wind, and his rugged features were etched with determination and a touch of caffeine-induced excitement. With each sip, the rich aroma of roasted beans infused his senses, fueling his spirit. He embraced the boldness of the coffee
Friar Tuck
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A Viking on a Viking ship, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, glided gracefully across the vast expanse of the sea. But this was no ordinary sea; it was a sea of coffee, as dark as the stormy skies above. The Viking's long, flowing hair whipped in the wind, and his rugged features were etched with determination and a touch of caffeine-induced excitement. With each sip, the rich aroma of roasted beans infused his senses, fueling his adventurous spirit. He embraced the boldness of the coffee,
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A Viking on a Viking ship, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, glided gracefully across the vast expanse of the sea. But this was no ordinary sea; it was a sea of coffee, as dark as the stormy skies above. The Viking's long, flowing hair whipped in the wind, and his rugged features were etched with determination and a touch of caffeine-induced excitement. With each sip, the rich aroma of roasted beans infused his senses, fueling his adventurous spirit. He embraced the boldness of the coffee,
envision the scene. An overhead view, as if I am watching from above. The cold sea breeze cuts through the air, carrying the scent of salt and adventure. The waters around the Viking's vessel shimmer with an ethereal glow, reflecting the pale moonlight. The drakkar itself, a magnificent sight, its sleek figure slicing through the waves. I can see it now, the lifeless figure of the Viking Yard lying peacefully in the boat, his weathered face etched with the marks of battles fought and won. His ey
The Slavs knew well enough to fear him. A god of this primeval underworld, both venerated and cursed in turns. King of this pit where myths were born. But Alex had come to face no mere idol - Khors haunted her dreams, this blight that had driven her mother to the brink. Beyond the tomb's threshold, something was awakening. Slithering over stone like a loathsome serpent roused from slumber. Two baleful orbs blinked open, choking the passage in a miasma like the mouth of Hell. Alex clutched her bl
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