Uncle Bottomless
Uncle Bottomless sat slumped by the barrel, gut spilling out like an overripe pumpkin, fist welded to his dented cup. The bastard wasn’t drinking to taste — he was drinking to erase. His beard stank of stale ale, piss, and forgotten meals, while his eyes floated somewhere between rage and rot. The villagers called him a saint of the cellar, but it was mockery — he’d drained more kegs than prayers were ever spoken in the chapel. He belched like a dying ox, wiped his greasy paw on his robe, and muttered curses at ghosts nobody else could see.
Image originally generated with DALL-E, then enhanced through upscaling in Leonardo AI and finally refined with Topaz Gigapixel AI.
Uncle Bottomless
Uncle Bottomless sat slumped by the barrel, gut spilling out like an overripe pumpkin, fist welded to his dented cup. The bastard wasn’t drinking to taste — he was drinking to erase. His beard stank of stale ale, piss, and forgotten meals, while his eyes floated somewhere between rage and rot. The villagers called him a saint of the cellar, but it was mockery — he’d drained more kegs than prayers were ever spoken in the chapel. He belched like a dying ox, wiped his greasy paw on his robe, and muttered curses at ghosts nobody else could see.
Image originally generated with DALL-E, then enhanced through upscaling in Leonardo AI and finally refined with Topaz Gigapixel AI.