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- Tamaño
- 1024 x 1024
- Pasos de muestreo
- 8
- Método de muestreo
- Euler a
- Escala CFG
- 2.1
- Excluir de la imagen
- nsfw, lowres, bad anatomy, bad hands, text, error, missing fingers, extra digit, fewer digits, cropped, worst quality, low quality, normal quality, jpeg artifacts, signature, watermark, username, blurry
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ロベルタ
slipsheep666
ロベルタ
かさねぎことは
k
flame haired maid with an eyepatch over her left eye, holding a 50 cal rifle resting on her right shoulder, suburban street behind her glowing orange and purple in the sunset, son reflecting off some windows,
krampact
zw
character: agent_(girls'_frontline)
1girl, solo, combat maid, maid, maid apron, maid headdress, black dress, long sleeves, black gloves, black hair, double bun, long hair, hair between eyes, yellow eyes, narrowed eyes, stoic, cigarette, cigarette in mouth, holding weapon, machine gun, ammo belt, cradling, from below, cowboy shot, looking at viewer, indoor, ruins, concrete debris, spent shell casings, rim light, volumetric light
From below in a cowboy shot, a combat maid stands planted firmly on fractured concrete, her torso angled slightly while her gaze fixes downward toward the viewer. Both black-gloved hands cradle a heavy military machine gun across her chest: her left gloved hand supports the heavy steel receiver from beneath, taking the weapon's forward mass, while her right hand rests on the grip with a disciplined finger straightened along the frame. A linked belt of heavy brass cartridges spills from the feed port and hangs in a metallic loop against her dark apron. Clamped securely between her lips is a lit cigarette, its glowing orange ember casting a warm speck of light onto her lower lip as a thin ribbon of pale grey smoke curls upward across her cheek. Her jet-black hair is parted evenly, with fine bangs framing between her eyes and the rest bound into neat, symmetrical double buns flanked by a crisp white ruffled headdress, the longer locks spilling down behind her shoulders. Her piercing yellow eyes narrow with an unflinching, icy calm. She wears a traditional black full-length maid dress layered beneath a starched white pinafore apron, the fabric taut across her shoulders and hips. The floor around her heavy boots is littered with spent shell casings and pulverized masonry. A single cool directional key light strikes from the upper right, raking across the oiled matte-black barrel of the machine gun, highlighting the crisp folds of her white ruffles, and casting deep, hard shadows across the concrete pillars behind her. The rising thread of cigarette smoke shears and scatters where it meets a cold cross-draft from the shattered doorway. Lethal poise.
zaemon watawata
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