Placeholder: [colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. She stands before a burnt camp, the remnants of what was once a place of solace and safety. The destruction is evident, the charred remains serving as a painful reminder of what has been lost. And in this moment, she can no longer hold back the tears. The burnt camp, the tears, they are but a fleeting momen [colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. She stands before a burnt camp, the remnants of what was once a place of solace and safety. The destruction is evident, the charred remains serving as a painful reminder of what has been lost. And in this moment, she can no longer hold back the tears. The burnt camp, the tears, they are but a fleeting momen

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[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. She stands before a burnt camp, the remnants of what was once a place of solace and safety. The destruction is evident, the charred remains serving as a painful reminder of what has been lost. And in this moment, she can no longer hold back the tears. The burnt camp, the tears, they are but a fleeting momen

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

7 months ago

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Model

SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

1024 × 1024

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[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. She staggers back, her legs giving way as she finds herself a seat on a nearby rock. With trembling hands, she wipes away the tears that stream down her face, her heart heavy with despair. How could this have happened? How could something so cherished be torn apart by the merciless hands of fate? The weight
[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. She staggers back, her legs giving way as she finds herself a seat on a nearby rock. With trembling hands, she wipes away the tears that stream down her face, her heart heavy with despair. How could this have happened? How could something so cherished be torn apart by the merciless hands of fate? The weight
[Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] Crying woman in cotton undies, Crucified
[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. With a deep breath, she gathers what little remains of her belongings. Her dress, tattered and stained, serves as a reminder of the life she once had. Her dagger, a symbol of her resilience and self-defense, feels reassuring in her grip. And her magic rod, a conduit of her power and creativity, pulses with
[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. She stands before a burnt camp, the remnants of what was once a place of solace and safety. The destruction is evident, the charred remains serving as a painful reminder of what has been lost. And in this moment, she can no longer hold back the tears. The burnt camp, the tears, they are but a fleeting momen
[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. With a deep breath, she gathers what little remains of her belongings. Her dress, tattered and stained, serves as a reminder of the life she once had. Her dagger, a symbol of her resilience and self-defense, feels reassuring in her grip. And her magic rod, a conduit of her power and creativity, pulses with
[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. And in the end, the remnants of those who dared to challenge her lie scattered on the forest floor, a testament to her indomitable spirit. Surpanakha stands amidst the carnage, her twisted form radiating power and triumph. She has reclaimed her sanctuary, her twisted essence more potent than ever. From the
[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. Her sobs echo through the desolate landscape, a mournful melody that speaks of both loss and resilience. But amidst the tears, a fire burns within her. A determination to rise from the ashes, to create something even more extraordinary. The tears may fall, but they will not extinguish her spirit. She wipes
[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. With a deep breath, she gathers what little remains of her belongings. Her dress, tattered and stained, serves as a reminder of the life she once had. Her dagger, a symbol of her resilience and self-defense, feels reassuring in her grip. And her magic rod, a conduit of her power and creativity, pulses with
[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. Her sobs echo through the desolate landscape, a mournful melody that speaks of both loss and resilience. But amidst the tears, a fire burns within her. A determination to rise from the ashes, to create something even more extraordinary. The tears may fall, but they will not extinguish her spirit. She wipes
[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] As the night wears on, Surpanakha's vengeance knows no bounds. The forest becomes a stage for her savage dance, a symphony of pain and terror. With a deep breath, she gathers what little remains of her belongings. Her dress, tattered and stained, serves as a reminder of the life she once had. Her dagger, a symbol of her resilience and self-defense, feels reassuring in her grip. And her magic rod, a conduit of her power and creativity, pulses with
[colour picture: Jason and the Argonauts (1963)] One by one, they emerge from their hiding places, their faces pale with terror. Surpanakha's eyes blaze with demonic fury, her twisted form casting an ominous shadow over the trembling figures before her. "You thought you could destroy me?" Surpanakha's voice drips with venom. "You thought you could erase me from existence? Well, you have failed miserably." The fear in their eyes intensifies as they realize the gravity of their mistake. Surpanakha
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