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konrad Filip
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- Ursprünglicher Prompt
- centaur robot, robot bigger that city, four legs, one arm, holding lance with with one arm, glowing lance, glowing parts of city on body, tower build, city on back, six while glowing eyes, no mouth, glowing robotic halo on back, Earthmover, red sky,MechanicusStyleAI,bloodpunkai
- Größe
- 768 x 1280
- Sampling-Schritte
- 22
- Sampling-Methode
- Euler a
- CFG Scale
- 6
- Negativ
- nsfw, worst quality, bad quality, low quality, lowres, anatomical nonsense, artistic error, bad anatomy, interlocked fingers, extra fingers, text, artist name, signature, bad feet, extra toes, ugly, poorly drawn, censor, blurry, watermark, simple background, transparent background, old, oldest, glitch, deformed, mutated, disfigured, long body, bad hands, missing fingers, extra digit, fewer digits, cropped, very displeasing, sketch, jpeg artifacts, username, censored, bar_censor, mosaic_censor, conjoined, bad ai-generated, nsfw, long neck, skin blemishes, skin spots, acne, the wrong limb, error, black line, excess hands, open mouth, green color. blue color
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1 giant machine, no humans, giant humanoid tank, super-heavy armor, doll-shaped chassis, four crawler tracks split front and rear, segmented continuous tracks, curved front hull armor, large armor plates on both arms, right forearm replaced by high-speed rotating bucket wheel excavator, spinning bucket wheel, left arm converted into large rail cannon, six large modular missiles mounted on back, missile rack, scope on head, radar dome on head, large high-output boosters on leg sides, heavily armored boosters, nozzle glow, trampling through city, crushing buildings, daytime, from below, low angle, foreshortening, dutch angle, wide shot, dust cloud, rubble, debris, smoke, lens flare, blue sky, daylight, mechanical detail, no text, no humans
The camera sits low at street level, tilted a few degrees off horizontal, so the machine towers up out of the frame and its head is cropped by the top edge while its tracks fill the lower third. Seen from this worm's-eye view: the four crawler tracks split front and rear, each a broad segmented band of dull steel, the front pair climbing over the crushed floor slabs of a mid-rise office block whose concrete facade buckles and spills rebar outward; fresh rubble piles in ridges at the track mouths and spills into the street. Above the tracks, the front hull curves forward like a rounded prow, its curved plate scuffed and scratched and streaked with concrete dust. Both arms hang at the machine's sides under enormous slab armor plates bolted at the shoulders. The right forearm terminates in a bucket-wheel excavator tipped forward so the wheel's toothed rim bites into a collapsed rooftop, one bucket scooping up a clod of concrete and rebar; a fine spiral of dust and grit is flung tangentially off the spinning wheel. The left forearm is a long rectangular rail cannon, twin rails running its length, the muzzle aimed low and forward across the street, a faint heat shimmer above the rails. Behind the shoulders, six large modular missiles sit upright in a rack, each cylindrical body with visible seams and fin assemblies, casting hard shadows on the machine's back. The head is a blunt armored casque with a cylindrical scope protruding forward and a shallow radar dome on top, its dish sweeping. On the outer faces of the leg assemblies, large armored boosters clamp on, their nozzles angled down and back, edges glowing a dull orange at idle. Beyond the machine, a daytime city street recedes: glass towers on both sides catching the sun, a few windows flashing where they face the light, cars stopped and crushed, a haze of dust filling the middle distance. The light comes from high and slightly behind the machine, so the armor's upper planes are bright and warm while the undersides of the tracks, the belly and the underside of the arms sit in deep shadow, and the machine's great cast shadow falls across the street directly toward the viewer, swallowing rubble and road. Palette: steel grey and gunmetal for the machine, warm concrete beige and dust ochre for the city, a cool blue sky at the top corners, orange booster glow as the only saturated accent. Dust drifts through the light, fine motes swirling. Crushing, colossal.
クロックロック
自1
ロボ
自動建設者13番
g
solo, 1entity, machine deity character design, humanoid walking arsenal, ((The Weapons Platform:2.0)), extreme close-up, low angle, tilted sharply upward, from below, full body framing, foreshortening, shoulders mounted with rotary cannon barrels spinning idly, rotary cannon barrels mid-spin, forearms housing retractable blade-rails, chest reinforced munitions vault, sealed missile tubes behind blast doors, legs hydraulic combat struts, piston-knees, exposed chrome piston rods, tactical visor face, single red horizontal strip across matte-black metal, targeting reticles floating in air around him, ammunition belts feeding from back into shoulder cannons, divine red-and-black military aura, floating glowing red text displaying targeting data and kill-counts, floating glowing red halo of targeting-ring crosshairs, black gunmetal and red color scheme, intricate military-industrial design, extremely unique appearance, looking up, standing on a warped deck plate, heavy silhouette, halftone dots, graffiti marks, thick outlines, pop-graphic composition
The camera sits almost at the deck, cranked back and tilted sharply up, so the walking arsenal towers over the lens and his whole body tapers away into the dark above — the nearest boot sole and piston shin huge in the lower corner, the shoulder cannons small and distant at the top of the frame. He plants one combat strut forward, knee piston half-compressed under the weight, the other leg braced behind, hip cocked; the pose is a long diagonal from that forward boot up through the vaulted chest to the raised right shoulder, and the whole mass leans a few degrees off the vertical like a turret slewing. His forearms angle inward and cross low in front of the vault, right arm over left, so the blade-rails are half-extended from the housings in a ragged black-metal comb with a thin red edge lit on each exposed rail.
Both shoulder mounts carry rotary cannon barrels that spin lazily, each cluster of barrels a blurred red-rimmed cylinder; ammunition belts climb out of a hatch in the small of his back, arc up over the shoulder blades and feed into the cannon housings in taut, sagging links, each brass-grey round pulled from the belt as it turns. The chest vault reads as a reinforced box bolted onto the ribcage, blast doors seated flush with only seams and heavy hinge knuckles showing; at the center a small round targeting aperture pumps a dull red heartbeat of light through the seams as the doors breathe on their servos. Below, the legs are open hydraulic lattice — struts, cross-braces and polished piston rods, the chrome of each rod catching one long specular streak, hydraulic fluid weeping dark at the joints where the seals are working.
The face is a single red horizontal strip set in matte-black plate, unbroken, its glow spilling a faint red wash onto the underside of the chin plate and the collar of the chest vault — the only part of the machine that looks back, and the camera is below it, so the strip reads as one hard line across the dark. Around him targeting reticles hang in the air at different depths, some huge and soft in the foreground, some tiny and sharp far behind the shoulder mounts, each with a fine crosshair and a hairline tick-mark ring; above everything floats a halo of interlocking target-ring crosshairs casting a narrow red glow on the crown of his helmet-plate and streaking downward into the haze. The floating red text rides the air in columns beside the shoulders, dense blocks of numerals and kill-count tallies stacked at slightly crooked angles and tilted with the perspective, brighter where it is nearer the lens and dimming with distance.
The only light is his own red emission plus a cold industrial rim from somewhere behind him; the red lands on every upward-facing chamfer of the armor and on the fluid film at the pistons, while everything else falls into absolute black, and the cast red shadows of the reticles and the halo smear down the deck plate and across his shins. The palette holds to three notes and nothing else — matte black plate, gunmetal shadow and red light — with the red concentrated in the visor strip, the halo, the reticles, the text, the aura flickering off the shoulder mounts, and in the edges of the blade-rails. A broken targeting reticle lies half under his boot, its glass throwing back a shard of red that does not match its source. Menacing, monumental.
grim
1 mecha, no humans, giant robot, super-heavy armor, humanoid tank, quadruple split continuous tracks, four-segment treads per leg, front and rear track banks, armored high-output leg boosters, head-mounted gatling cannon, scope on head, radar dome on head, armored shoulder pauldrons, right forearm bucket wheel excavator, rotating bucket wheel, left arm rail cannon, long railgun barrel, six large missiles on back, vertical missile launch racks, tower shield bulk, rampage, crushing city, stomping, rubble, daytime, blue sky, city street, from below, extreme low angle, wide shot, dutch angle, foreshortening, dust clouds, broken concrete, collapsing buildings, billowing smoke
The camera sits at street level and tips steeply upward, a three-quarter front view from below and slightly to the mecha's right, so the machine's full height crosses the frame diagonally under a slight dutch cant while the midday sky occupies the upper third. Its left foot -- the near track bank of the left leg, the forward of its four segments -- has come down through the middle of a six-lane intersection: the two front track segments are planted flat, crushing a bus shelter under their cleats, while the two rear segments of the same leg hang a few meters behind and above, still shedding gravel from the last step. The right leg is caught mid-stride, its forward tracks lifted clear of the ground and angled toward a toppling office tower whose lower facade the right shoulder pauldron has already sheared open; its rear tracks trail dust. The torso fills the center of the frame, slab after slab of welded armor plating, edges chipped to raw steel, rivet seams running diagonally, and along the sides of both legs the armored high-output boosters are bolted in blocks -- the near one venting a thin heat shimmer that rises in a wavering column and bends the skyline behind it. On the head, above the jawless slab of the chin guard, the gatling cannon juts forward on its mount, barrel cluster six tubes wide, a belt of ammunition curving back into the shoulder; the scope is clamped alongside it in a hooded bracket, its front lens catching the sun as a small hard white point, and on the top of the skull a squat radar dome turns, tipped slightly to one side on its ring. Both arms hang heavy and wide. The right forearm ends in the bucket wheel excavator: the wrist has been cut away and the wheel now rides on the stump, a great toothed disc slowly turning, its buckets biting empty air at knee height and one bucket dragging a lip of broken asphalt and rebar up out of the crater it just carved. The left arm, armor-plated to the knuckle, has become the rail cannon -- twin rails running the length of the forearm and past the fist, their muzzle ends smeared with heat and a heat ripple above the bore. On the back, canted forward over the shoulders, six vertical launch racks hold the six assembled missiles nose-up, fins folded, their tips rangy against the sky, and the racks' support struts cut dark lines across the clouds. The light is hard, direct, high midday sun coming from behind the camera's left, so the near faces of the armor blaze pale and the far side of the machine falls into deep blocky shadow; every cast shadow is short and sharp, and the mecha's own shadow lies across the intersection like a second, darker street. The palette is armor grey and olive drab, the chalk white of shattered concrete, hot orange only where the bucket wheel bites and the missile tips catch the sun, and a clean washed blue sky above; the city is small, soft, bleached by haze -- glass towers, a row of low shops, cars ditched against the curb, all rendered gently out of focus so their scale reads only as small. Dust rises in a slow ring from the planted foot, and the particles above the boosters lean in one direction, dragged sideways by the exhaust. Catastrophic, unstoppable.
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Winter joy in the snow
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weirdcore...
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reunited at last
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character: kaname_madoka_(magical_girl), copyright: mahou_shoujo_madoka_magica
Kaname Madoka from Puella Magi Madoka Magica, pink twin tails tied with deep red ribbons, wearing her iconic magical girl costume, white corset-like bodice with delicate back lacing, voluminous layered white and pale pink ruffled skirt, crimson ribbons flowing loosely around her body, viewed from behind at a three-quarter angle, seated with her back gracefully arched, both arms extending naturally downward behind her back, one hand gently holding the opposite wrist, clearly separated hands, relaxed slender fingers, five distinct fingers on each hand, natural finger spacing, anatomically correct wrists, elegant delicate hands, visible knuckles, softly curved fingers, hands clearly visible against the white skirt, unobstructed hand silhouette, accurate hand anatomy, head tilted far backward, chin raised toward the darkness, face mostly hidden, elegant elongated silhouette, delicate exposed shoulders, soft loose strands of pink hair, dramatic asymmetrical composition, close medium shot, large skirt filling the lower frame, dark almost black background, dramatic directional lighting, pale ivory highlights, muted dusty pink, cold gray shadows, rich crimson accents, strong contrast between luminous fabric and deep darkness, thick impasto oil painting, expressive visible brushstrokes, heavy layered paint, rough palette knife texture, sculptural paint strokes, painterly edges, textured canvas, loose gestural painting, rich tactile surface, dramatic chiaroscuro, melancholic atmosphere, haunting beauty, full bleed composition, edge-to-edge artwork, no borders, no frame, textured illustration, grainy texture, crayon texture, chalky brushwork, impasto strokes, bold color blocking, stylized anime, flat shading, dry brush effect, atmospheric lighting, soft glow highlights, rough painterly anime style, visible textured brushstrokes, heavy impasto texture, scratchy charcoal-like linework, expressive gestural strokes, smudged edges, desaturated base tones with aggressive high-contrast color, sketch style, rough brushstroke
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Sg75
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Tofu
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the ballerina
ᯓᯓ 𝙘𝙤𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙞
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