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Nana 123

AI art by Nana 123 on PixAI. Made with Tsubaki.3.

n1

Nana 123

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artist: redjuice 1girl, solo, glowing crimson red eyes, long flowing platinum silver hair, floating hair, iridescent hair highlights, glossy black and white sci-fi plugsuit, mechanical joints, high-collar cropped tactical techwear jacket, floating holographic halo, cybernetic earpieces, levitating mecha blade drones, holding futuristic rail-katana, dynamic floating pose, contrapposto, looking at viewer, cold confident expression, shattered glass, floating geometric shards, dark cyberpunk city background, dramatic rim lighting, high contrast, glossy rendering, chromatic aberration, floating crystalline particles, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, absurdres, masterpiece, best quality, extremely beautiful, sharp facial features, arms at sides, head tilt, parted lips, depth of field, bloom The camera looks up from below the level of her feet, canted a few degrees off level, framing her from mid-thigh to the halo in a cowboy shot, and the whole body hangs suspended a hand's width above the rooftop ledge, nothing beneath her boots but open air and the drop of the city. She is the only figure in the frame. Her spine arches back a little along the tilt of the dutch angle, one shoulder dipped and the other lifted: the right leg is drawn up and folded inward at the knee, toe pointed down, while the left leg trails lower and straighter, hip pushed out against the twist -- an airborne contrapposto held on nothing, weight distributed with no ground to take it. Long platinum silver hair streams outward and upward past her shoulders, each lock lifted away from the skull as if the air around her were charged, and thin iridescent highlights run along the curves of the strands in oil-slick green-magenta-violet, shifting with the bend of each lock. Her chin is tucked slightly downward, tilting her face toward the lens from under her brow; her crimson eyes are open and steady, glow bleeding faintly into the shadowed sockets, and the cold confidence sits in the flat line of her mouth, one corner very slightly down, no tension in the jaw. Sharp facial features: a narrow straight nose, cut cheekbones, a crisp jawline and a pointed chin, all edges kept hard by the rim light. Her right hand is closed around the grip of the rail-katana, the blade held low and angled across her body out toward the lower-left of frame so its muzzle-like spine catches the light; her left arm hangs loose and slightly back, fingers half-curled and open, palm turned toward the city. The plugsuit sheathes her in glossy black with white panel lines running down the ribs and thighs, the surface throwing long specular streaks that follow the curve of every limb; at the shoulders, elbows, hips and knees the suit gives way to exposed mechanical joints -- segmented metal collars, piston housings, ringed bearings that catch a pinpoint of light at each pivot. Over it she wears the cropped tactical techwear jacket, hem cut high at the waist, its tall high collar standing up around her jaw and framing her throat, sleeves pushed to the elbow. A holographic halo floats a finger's width above her crown, a thin translucent ring in pale cyan-white, its glow rimming the top of her hair and dimming the air directly beneath it; cybernetic earpieces clamp over both ears, angular black housings with thin luminous seams that spill cold blue onto the line of her jaw. Three levitating mecha blade drones hang in the air behind and around her, each a narrow dark chassis with a single edge of glowing steel, held at staggered distances and angles -- one high behind her rising shoulder, one low beside her trailing knee, one further back and half-eaten by the haze -- all of them turned so their sharpened edges present toward the frame, rotating in place with no visible support. Between her and the lens, a sheet of shattered glass has broken apart and frozen mid-flight: fine cracks spider out across the remaining fragments, and dozens of floating geometric shards -- thin triangular slivers and flat polygonal plates -- hang at different depths, each catching the rim light on one edge and refracting it on the next. The nearest shards sit in front of her knee and shoulder, small and crisp; the farthest dwindle behind her hair. Behind her, the dark cyberpunk city falls away in stacked layers: black tower silhouettes with grids of cold blue and hot magenta windows, elevated walkways and cable spans crossing the gaps, signage blurred to illegible smears of neon, all softened by haze so that each further rank of buildings loses contrast and detail. The light is strongly directional: a hard rim from the upper right rear edge traces her hair, shoulder, collar and hip in a bright cold line, while a second dimmer magenta bounce from below picks out the undersides of her jaw, her forearms and the raised knee. Everything facing the camera falls into deep shadow, so the picture runs on the highest contrast -- near-black masses against hot luminous edges -- and the glossy rendering turns each highlight into a stretched, liquid streak. Chromatic aberration splits the frame: red and cyan fringes ride the edges of her contour, the katana's spine and the glass shards, intensifying toward the corners of the image. Soft bloom halos the halo ring, the eye light and the drone edges. Cold, immaculate, dangerous.
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Original Prompt
Artist: redjuice, masterpiece, best quality, absurdres, artist:redjuice, 1girl, solo, extremely beautiful, sharp facial features, glowing crimson red eyes, long flowing platinum silver hair, floating hair, iridescent hair highlights, glossy black and white sci-fi plugsuit, mechanical joints, high-collar cropped tactical techwear jacket, floating holographic halo, cybernetic earpieces, levitating mecha blade drones, holding futuristic rail-katana, dynamic floating pose, contrapposto, looking at viewer, cold confident expression, shattered glass, floating geometric shards, dark cyberpunk city background, dramatic rim lighting, high contrast, glossy rendering, chromatic aberration
Mode
pro
Quality Tag
﹝Prompts﹞
Size
1104 x 1824
Negative
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit, (nsfw:1.2),(nude:1.6),(nipple:1.2),naked
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AI artwork
n1
artist: redjuice 1girl, solo, glowing crimson red eyes, long flowing platinum silver hair, floating hair, iridescent hair highlights, glossy black and white sci-fi plugsuit, mechanical joints, high-collar cropped tactical techwear jacket, floating holographic halo, cybernetic earpieces, levitating mecha blade drones, holding futuristic rail-katana, dynamic floating pose, contrapposto, looking at viewer, cold confident expression, shattered glass, floating geometric shards, dark cyberpunk city background, dramatic rim lighting, high contrast, glossy rendering, chromatic aberration, floating crystalline particles, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, absurdres, masterpiece, best quality, extremely beautiful, sharp facial features, arms at sides, head tilt, parted lips, depth of field, bloom The camera looks up from below the level of her feet, canted a few degrees off level, framing her from mid-thigh to the halo in a cowboy shot, and the whole body hangs suspended a hand's width above the rooftop ledge, nothing beneath her boots but open air and the drop of the city. She is the only figure in the frame. Her spine arches back a little along the tilt of the dutch angle, one shoulder dipped and the other lifted: the right leg is drawn up and folded inward at the knee, toe pointed down, while the left leg trails lower and straighter, hip pushed out against the twist -- an airborne contrapposto held on nothing, weight distributed with no ground to take it. Long platinum silver hair streams outward and upward past her shoulders, each lock lifted away from the skull as if the air around her were charged, and thin iridescent highlights run along the curves of the strands in oil-slick green-magenta-violet, shifting with the bend of each lock. Her chin is tucked slightly downward, tilting her face toward the lens from under her brow; her crimson eyes are open and steady, glow bleeding faintly into the shadowed sockets, and the cold confidence sits in the flat line of her mouth, one corner very slightly down, no tension in the jaw. Sharp facial features: a narrow straight nose, cut cheekbones, a crisp jawline and a pointed chin, all edges kept hard by the rim light. Her right hand is closed around the grip of the rail-katana, the blade held low and angled across her body out toward the lower-left of frame so its muzzle-like spine catches the light; her left arm hangs loose and slightly back, fingers half-curled and open, palm turned toward the city. The plugsuit sheathes her in glossy black with white panel lines running down the ribs and thighs, the surface throwing long specular streaks that follow the curve of every limb; at the shoulders, elbows, hips and knees the suit gives way to exposed mechanical joints -- segmented metal collars, piston housings, ringed bearings that catch a pinpoint of light at each pivot. Over it she wears the cropped tactical techwear jacket, hem cut high at the waist, its tall high collar standing up around her jaw and framing her throat, sleeves pushed to the elbow. A holographic halo floats a finger's width above her crown, a thin translucent ring in pale cyan-white, its glow rimming the top of her hair and dimming the air directly beneath it; cybernetic earpieces clamp over both ears, angular black housings with thin luminous seams that spill cold blue onto the line of her jaw. Three levitating mecha blade drones hang in the air behind and around her, each a narrow dark chassis with a single edge of glowing steel, held at staggered distances and angles -- one high behind her rising shoulder, one low beside her trailing knee, one further back and half-eaten by the haze -- all of them turned so their sharpened edges present toward the frame, rotating in place with no visible support. Between her and the lens, a sheet of shattered glass has broken apart and frozen mid-flight: fine cracks spider out across the remaining fragments, and dozens of floating geometric shards -- thin triangular slivers and flat polygonal plates -- hang at different depths, each catching the rim light on one edge and refracting it on the next. The nearest shards sit in front of her knee and shoulder, small and crisp; the farthest dwindle behind her hair. Behind her, the dark cyberpunk city falls away in stacked layers: black tower silhouettes with grids of cold blue and hot magenta windows, elevated walkways and cable spans crossing the gaps, signage blurred to illegible smears of neon, all softened by haze so that each further rank of buildings loses contrast and detail. The light is strongly directional: a hard rim from the upper right rear edge traces her hair, shoulder, collar and hip in a bright cold line, while a second dimmer magenta bounce from below picks out the undersides of her jaw, her forearms and the raised knee. Everything facing the camera falls into deep shadow, so the picture runs on the highest contrast -- near-black masses against hot luminous edges -- and the glossy rendering turns each highlight into a stretched, liquid streak. Chromatic aberration splits the frame: red and cyan fringes ride the edges of her contour, the katana's spine and the glass shards, intensifying toward the corners of the image. Soft bloom halos the halo ring, the eye light and the drone edges. Cold, immaculate, dangerous.
Nana 123
AI artwork
n1
artist: redjuice 1girl, solo, glowing crimson red eyes, long flowing platinum silver hair, floating hair, iridescent hair highlights, glossy black and white sci-fi plugsuit, mechanical joints, high-collar cropped tactical techwear jacket, floating holographic halo, cybernetic earpieces, levitating mecha blade drones, holding futuristic rail-katana, dynamic floating pose, contrapposto, looking at viewer, cold confident expression, shattered glass, floating geometric shards, dark cyberpunk city background, dramatic rim lighting, high contrast, glossy rendering, chromatic aberration, floating crystalline particles, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, absurdres, masterpiece, best quality, extremely beautiful, sharp facial features, arms at sides, head tilt, parted lips, depth of field, bloom The camera looks up from below the level of her feet, canted a few degrees off level, framing her from mid-thigh to the halo in a cowboy shot, and the whole body hangs suspended a hand's width above the rooftop ledge, nothing beneath her boots but open air and the drop of the city. She is the only figure in the frame. Her spine arches back a little along the tilt of the dutch angle, one shoulder dipped and the other lifted: the right leg is drawn up and folded inward at the knee, toe pointed down, while the left leg trails lower and straighter, hip pushed out against the twist -- an airborne contrapposto held on nothing, weight distributed with no ground to take it. Long platinum silver hair streams outward and upward past her shoulders, each lock lifted away from the skull as if the air around her were charged, and thin iridescent highlights run along the curves of the strands in oil-slick green-magenta-violet, shifting with the bend of each lock. Her chin is tucked slightly downward, tilting her face toward the lens from under her brow; her crimson eyes are open and steady, glow bleeding faintly into the shadowed sockets, and the cold confidence sits in the flat line of her mouth, one corner very slightly down, no tension in the jaw. Sharp facial features: a narrow straight nose, cut cheekbones, a crisp jawline and a pointed chin, all edges kept hard by the rim light. Her right hand is closed around the grip of the rail-katana, the blade held low and angled across her body out toward the lower-left of frame so its muzzle-like spine catches the light; her left arm hangs loose and slightly back, fingers half-curled and open, palm turned toward the city. The plugsuit sheathes her in glossy black with white panel lines running down the ribs and thighs, the surface throwing long specular streaks that follow the curve of every limb; at the shoulders, elbows, hips and knees the suit gives way to exposed mechanical joints -- segmented metal collars, piston housings, ringed bearings that catch a pinpoint of light at each pivot. Over it she wears the cropped tactical techwear jacket, hem cut high at the waist, its tall high collar standing up around her jaw and framing her throat, sleeves pushed to the elbow. A holographic halo floats a finger's width above her crown, a thin translucent ring in pale cyan-white, its glow rimming the top of her hair and dimming the air directly beneath it; cybernetic earpieces clamp over both ears, angular black housings with thin luminous seams that spill cold blue onto the line of her jaw. Three levitating mecha blade drones hang in the air behind and around her, each a narrow dark chassis with a single edge of glowing steel, held at staggered distances and angles -- one high behind her rising shoulder, one low beside her trailing knee, one further back and half-eaten by the haze -- all of them turned so their sharpened edges present toward the frame, rotating in place with no visible support. Between her and the lens, a sheet of shattered glass has broken apart and frozen mid-flight: fine cracks spider out across the remaining fragments, and dozens of floating geometric shards -- thin triangular slivers and flat polygonal plates -- hang at different depths, each catching the rim light on one edge and refracting it on the next. The nearest shards sit in front of her knee and shoulder, small and crisp; the farthest dwindle behind her hair. Behind her, the dark cyberpunk city falls away in stacked layers: black tower silhouettes with grids of cold blue and hot magenta windows, elevated walkways and cable spans crossing the gaps, signage blurred to illegible smears of neon, all softened by haze so that each further rank of buildings loses contrast and detail. The light is strongly directional: a hard rim from the upper right rear edge traces her hair, shoulder, collar and hip in a bright cold line, while a second dimmer magenta bounce from below picks out the undersides of her jaw, her forearms and the raised knee. Everything facing the camera falls into deep shadow, so the picture runs on the highest contrast -- near-black masses against hot luminous edges -- and the glossy rendering turns each highlight into a stretched, liquid streak. Chromatic aberration splits the frame: red and cyan fringes ride the edges of her contour, the katana's spine and the glass shards, intensifying toward the corners of the image. Soft bloom halos the halo ring, the eye light and the drone edges. Cold, immaculate, dangerous.
Nana 123
AI artwork
n1
artist: redjuice 1girl, solo, glowing crimson red eyes, long flowing platinum silver hair, floating hair, iridescent hair highlights, glossy black and white sci-fi plugsuit, mechanical joints, high-collar cropped tactical techwear jacket, floating holographic halo, cybernetic earpieces, levitating mecha blade drones, holding futuristic rail-katana, dynamic floating pose, contrapposto, looking at viewer, cold confident expression, shattered glass, floating geometric shards, dark cyberpunk city background, dramatic rim lighting, high contrast, glossy rendering, chromatic aberration, floating crystalline particles, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, absurdres, masterpiece, best quality, extremely beautiful, sharp facial features, arms at sides, head tilt, parted lips, depth of field, bloom The camera looks up from below the level of her feet, canted a few degrees off level, framing her from mid-thigh to the halo in a cowboy shot, and the whole body hangs suspended a hand's width above the rooftop ledge, nothing beneath her boots but open air and the drop of the city. She is the only figure in the frame. Her spine arches back a little along the tilt of the dutch angle, one shoulder dipped and the other lifted: the right leg is drawn up and folded inward at the knee, toe pointed down, while the left leg trails lower and straighter, hip pushed out against the twist -- an airborne contrapposto held on nothing, weight distributed with no ground to take it. Long platinum silver hair streams outward and upward past her shoulders, each lock lifted away from the skull as if the air around her were charged, and thin iridescent highlights run along the curves of the strands in oil-slick green-magenta-violet, shifting with the bend of each lock. Her chin is tucked slightly downward, tilting her face toward the lens from under her brow; her crimson eyes are open and steady, glow bleeding faintly into the shadowed sockets, and the cold confidence sits in the flat line of her mouth, one corner very slightly down, no tension in the jaw. Sharp facial features: a narrow straight nose, cut cheekbones, a crisp jawline and a pointed chin, all edges kept hard by the rim light. Her right hand is closed around the grip of the rail-katana, the blade held low and angled across her body out toward the lower-left of frame so its muzzle-like spine catches the light; her left arm hangs loose and slightly back, fingers half-curled and open, palm turned toward the city. The plugsuit sheathes her in glossy black with white panel lines running down the ribs and thighs, the surface throwing long specular streaks that follow the curve of every limb; at the shoulders, elbows, hips and knees the suit gives way to exposed mechanical joints -- segmented metal collars, piston housings, ringed bearings that catch a pinpoint of light at each pivot. Over it she wears the cropped tactical techwear jacket, hem cut high at the waist, its tall high collar standing up around her jaw and framing her throat, sleeves pushed to the elbow. A holographic halo floats a finger's width above her crown, a thin translucent ring in pale cyan-white, its glow rimming the top of her hair and dimming the air directly beneath it; cybernetic earpieces clamp over both ears, angular black housings with thin luminous seams that spill cold blue onto the line of her jaw. Three levitating mecha blade drones hang in the air behind and around her, each a narrow dark chassis with a single edge of glowing steel, held at staggered distances and angles -- one high behind her rising shoulder, one low beside her trailing knee, one further back and half-eaten by the haze -- all of them turned so their sharpened edges present toward the frame, rotating in place with no visible support. Between her and the lens, a sheet of shattered glass has broken apart and frozen mid-flight: fine cracks spider out across the remaining fragments, and dozens of floating geometric shards -- thin triangular slivers and flat polygonal plates -- hang at different depths, each catching the rim light on one edge and refracting it on the next. The nearest shards sit in front of her knee and shoulder, small and crisp; the farthest dwindle behind her hair. Behind her, the dark cyberpunk city falls away in stacked layers: black tower silhouettes with grids of cold blue and hot magenta windows, elevated walkways and cable spans crossing the gaps, signage blurred to illegible smears of neon, all softened by haze so that each further rank of buildings loses contrast and detail. The light is strongly directional: a hard rim from the upper right rear edge traces her hair, shoulder, collar and hip in a bright cold line, while a second dimmer magenta bounce from below picks out the undersides of her jaw, her forearms and the raised knee. Everything facing the camera falls into deep shadow, so the picture runs on the highest contrast -- near-black masses against hot luminous edges -- and the glossy rendering turns each highlight into a stretched, liquid streak. Chromatic aberration splits the frame: red and cyan fringes ride the edges of her contour, the katana's spine and the glass shards, intensifying toward the corners of the image. Soft bloom halos the halo ring, the eye light and the drone edges. Cold, immaculate, dangerous.
Nana 123

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