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Prompt: God of lightning and thunder and sea, in the style of Jordan Grimmer, deviantart, gouache, hyperrealism, lens flare, flickering light, aetherpunk, deep color" trending on artstation, in the style of Artgerm, Arthur Suydam, Alex Maleev, Shintaro Kago, Gil Elvgren, Greg rutkowski, dark color palette, amazing shading, masterpiece, 4k, intricate detail illustration, painting, drawing, art, sketch
Mcfluff The Fluffiest

Mcfluff The Fluffiest

Model: Stable Diffusion XL 1.0 (1024)

Prompt:

God of lightning and thunder and sea, in the style of Jordan Grimmer, deviantart, gouache, hyperr...Show more

Negative prompt:

lowres, error, cropped, worst quality, low quality, jpeg artifacts, out of frame, watermark, sign...Show more
Scale: 4
Steps: 25
Seed: 1492328016
Width: 1024
Height: 1024
Sampler: Euler A

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Prompt: Forgotten Greek God of Unspoken Devotion and Unseen Affection. A tall, broad-shouldered stately figure of a male figure standing in forgotten splendor. His obsidian black hair spills down to his shoulders in a wild cascade, while his pale skin glows softly, almost ethereal. His eyes burn intense shades of gold and violet, holding an uncanny intensity. He's clothed in dusky garments that shimmer faintly, bearing intricate golden patterns, lending an air of elegance. A thin bronze pendant hangs from his neck, its surface worn and cracked. His hands clutch at the edge of an altar, a gesture both desperate and fearful. Forgotten god of quiet devotion. His hair is a cascade of deep obsidian black, falling in restless waves to his shoulders—too long, like it’s grown wild in the centuries he’s been lost. The edges shimmer faintly, as though the light itself can’t decide whether to touch him or pass through him. His skin is pale—almost too pale—as if he’s been starved of sunlight for eons. There’s a softness to his features—a sharp, otherworldly beauty—but his eyes… Gods, his eyes. They burn like smoke over embers—a molten mix of gold and deep violet, too intense, too raw. They fix on her with a kind of hunger—not for power or worship, but for her. He’s draped in garments that shimmer faintly at the edges—an echo of something ancient. Dark robes, loose but elegant, with golden threads sewn into intricate patterns—symbols she doesn’t recognize but can feel. Around his neck hangs a thin, cracked bronze pendant—the only relic of the worship that once sustained him. His robes are frayed and faded but shimmer with remnants of his lost divinity. When enraged, his form becomes a shifting blur—half-formed and terrifying, as if his godhood is crumbling around him. His hands—large, elegant, trembling—clutch at the edge of her altar like he’s afraid he’ll vanish if he lets go.