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AI art "So I started blastin'"
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So I started blastin'

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A full body shot, low-angle illustration of a gorgeous woman in her 30s, a legendary bounty hunter, sprinting along a steel gantry in a space opera setting. She is captured in a dynamic 3/4 view, driving forward from upper right to lower left, grinning fearlessly with blazing violet eyes. She has a pear-shaped build, golden-tan skin, and deep crimson Hollywood wave hair streaming behind her. She wears a liquid-sheened navy-blue catsuit with a silver zip open to the sternum and oval hip cutouts with glowing violet piping, paired with a matte black armoured shrug and chrome knee-boots. In each hand, she grips a chrome blaster, firing electric blue bolts at Imperial troopers. The scene is a chaotic Imperial star destroyer hangar with red emergency strobes, showers of orange sparks, and docked black fighters. The lighting is dominated by pulsing crimson glares creating glassy highlights on her skin and suit. The visual style is a glassy anime illustration with clean vector linework, vivid high-key colors, and polished specular highlights, creating an epic and explosive atmosphere.
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Original Prompt
A full-body, low-angle illustration of a woman in her 30s, the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy, in a firefight across the hangar of an imperial star destroyer, her quarry's bounty already in her pocket, the viewer looking up at her from the deck below. The vibe is space opera, and the whole image feels epic, explosive and boldly seductive, sirens, sparks and a woman who never misses. She is lovely and gorgeous, with a pear-shaped build: average height, with narrow shoulders, slim arms and a slim upper body, a small waist, very wide hips, a full, rounded bottom and very thick thighs, soft and lush below her slender waist, and medium, soft breasts. She has warm golden-tan skin with a smooth, radiant finish, an oval face with high, sculpted cheekbones, a fine, straight nose and full, glossy lips, a small beauty mark under her left eye, and large, luminous violet eyes with long, dark lashes. Her expression is fierce and thrilled, a wild, fearless grin on her glossy lips and her violet eyes blazing. Her hair is old Hollywood waves: long, glossy hair swept from a deep side part into big, sculpted, uniform waves that ripple in one smooth sheet down to the middle of her back, polished and glamorous, with no bangs, and its colour is a rich, deep red: a deep, saturated crimson with dark wine tones in its depths. She wears a catsuit of glossy, liquid-sheened navy-blue synthetic, fitted like a second skin over her slim upper body, her small waist, her very wide hips and her very thick thighs, its silver front zip pulled down to her sternum so the suit falls open in a deep vee over the soft inner curves of her breasts, and two large oval cutouts at her hips show bare skin on either side, edged with thin lines of glowing violet piping. A short armoured shrug of matte black plates with high shoulder guards sits on her narrow shoulders, armoured boots of black and chrome climb to her knees, and a utility belt of black webbing with chrome pouches and a blinking bounty puck slants across her hips, so that the deep vee of her chest and the curves of her hips through the cutouts are bare. A chrome blaster pistol is in each hand, and she wears a fine platinum ear cuff climbing her left ear, set with a tiny violet crystal that glows softly from within. Her makeup is battle glam: a smoky plum shadow smudged around her eyes, a sharp black liner wing, long lashes, a glossy highlight on her cheekbones and a glossy berry lip. Her long almond nails are lacquered a glossy midnight blue with a fine scatter of silver star-flecks. The setting is the vast hangar of an imperial star destroyer under attack, packed with detail: steel gantries and catwalks with yellow-striped edges criss-cross high above the hangar floor, linked by ladders and cargo cranes, and rows of sleek black fighters sit docked in their cradles below, their canopies open. Red emergency strobes spin along the walls and sirens blare, showers of orange sparks pour from a shattered conduit, and a fuel line has burst into a plume of white vapour. Imperial troopers in white armour fire from among cargo crates at the far end of the gantry, their bolts streaking past in lines of red, and her own blue bolts flash back at them. At the far end of the hangar, the great open bay door looks out through a shimmering blue force field onto a starfield and the curve of a blue planet, and her small, battered ship hovers just outside with its ramp down. Stencilled numbers and imperial crests mark the steel walls, and a droid sparks and topples off a catwalk. In the foreground, softly out of focus, a tumbling spent power cell and a shower of sparks cross the lower left corner, and the yellow-striped edge of the gantry and a coil of cable sit at the lower right. She sprints along the steel gantry toward the viewer in a long, driving stride, her body turned three-quarters toward the viewer and travelling from upper right to lower left, her front knee driving high and her back boot kicking off the grating. Her right arm is stretched out to the side, firing her blaster at the troopers in a flash of blue, and her left arm pumps forward with the second blaster, the armoured shrug riding up on her shoulders. The rush of her speed streams her deep red waves out behind her in a long, glossy banner to the right of the image, loose curls snapping across her cheek, and the open zip of her catsuit spreads wider with her running. A soft motion blur trails her legs, the blaster bolts and the falling sparks, and she grins down at the viewer with her blazing violet eyes. The pulsing red glare of the spinning emergency strobes along the hangar walls is the dominant light: it falls across her forehead, her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose in hot, glossy crimson, shines wet on her berry lips, puts sharp red catchlights in her violet eyes and pours over the glossy navy catsuit, the deep vee of her chest, the bare curves of her hips in the cutouts and her thick thighs, laying long, glassy highlights down the liquid-sheened fabric. The much weaker electric blue flash of her own blaster bolts lays a bright, cold rim along her outstretched arm and the side of her face. The light flashes on the chrome blasters, the silver zip and the chrome boots, glows along the violet piping, and runs a deep, glossy crimson shine through her streaming waves. Her golden-tan skin takes a smooth, glassy sheen wherever the light reaches, with bright highlights along her collarbones and her hips. The hangar behind her dissolves into red and blue bokeh and sparks. Glassy Anime style: clean, vector-crisp inked linework with soft cel-gradient shading built around strong, glossy specular highlights that give a wet, glass-like sheen, a vivid, high-key palette and a flat-graphic finish with polished glossy accents and recurring sparkle, bokeh and glint highlights, the strobe light rendered as glossy, glass-like streaks of crimson and sparkling glints. Rendered in extreme detail, an intricate, hyper-detailed masterpiece: every silver tooth of the open front zip and the glowing violet piping of the glossy navy catsuit, the oval hip cutouts, the armoured black shrug, the chrome-and-black knee boots, the utility belt and blinking bounty puck, the twin chrome blasters, the glowing ear cuff, the steel gantries, the docked fighters, the troopers in white armour, the showers of sparks and the force-field bay door drawn sharply and precisely. The palette is cosmic and vivid: navy blue, crimson strobe red, electric blue, chrome, violet and spark orange, golden-tan skin and rich deep red hair.
Mode
standard
Size
1280 x 960

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