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View detailsEn PixAI los prompts son públicos por defecto, pero cada creador puede ocultarlos en las obras que publica. Quien creó esta obra decidió hacerlo, así que las palabras con las que se generó la imagen permanecen privadas: solo esa persona puede verlas. Ocultar el prompt no cambia nada más: la obra sigue siendo pública y puedes darle me gusta, comentarla y compartirla como siempre.
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Mostrar máscharacter: yano_kuromu. Sexy gal boxer outfit: a black cropped halter boxing top with orange flame accents, matching high-cut black shorts with orange trim, orange boxing gloves, and taped wrists. She stands in a sharp boxing guard stance, intense fiery gaze, inside a dark battlefield-style boxing ring lit by scattered orange firelight and embers at night, black-orange dramatic color palette. Vertical phone wallpaper composition: lower 70% full body pose, upper 30% open dark night sky space with faint embers, no text.
勇者系魔王アマッカス
wizardone_07#0
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doom
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character: alisa_mikhailovna_kujou
1girl, solo, fighting stance, high guard, boxing gloves, fists up, corner of boxing ring, boxing ring, ring ropes, corner pad, canvas floor, beaten up, bruised face, blood on face, blood on body, cuts, split lip, sweating, shivering, trembling, tired, exhausted, heavy breathing, skinny, slender build, long hair, silver hair, white hair, ahoge, blue eyes, looking at viewer, facing viewer, from front, medium full shot, white and blue sports bra, sponsor logo, white and blue yoga shorts, blue kneehigh socks, white sneakers, realistic, dramatic lighting, overhead spotlight, arena
Seen from the front in a straight-on medium full shot, a slender, skinny young woman is cornered against the turnbuckle of a boxing ring, facing the viewer directly with a shaky, desperate guard. Her long silver-white hair hangs in damp, sweat-soaked strands across her bruised collarbones, with parted bangs framing a battered face and an unruly cowlick standing out at her crown. Her vivid blue eyes lock onto the viewer with a tired, strained gaze from beneath swollen lids, her jaw clenched as she pants through parted, trembling lips marked by a cut that trickles crimson blood down her chin. Bruises and dark contusions mar her pale skin across her cheeks, shoulders, and ribs, with splatters and smears of fresh blood running down her chest and arms.
Trapped against the corner, she shivers visibly from exhaustion and impact, her weight teetering unevenly on her back heel while her knees buckle slightly. Her thin, trembling arms struggle to keep two worn, padded boxing gloves raised in front of her chin in a desperate defensive posture. She wears a tight white sports bra with cobalt-blue side panels, stamped with bold black athletic sponsor lettering across the chest band, paired with matching white and blue low-rise yoga shorts that cling to her slender hips. Her legs are clad in fitted blue knee-high socks pulled taut over lean shins, and her scuffed white athletic sneakers grip the textured ring floor. Behind her, the thick padded blue corner post and four taut horizontal ropes press against the small of her back. Overhead, a single harsh, cool stadium spotlight beats down mercilessly, cutting deep shadows under her ribs and chin while illuminating tiny glistening beads of sweat and blood as they run down her trembling skin and drip onto the scuffed, stained white canvas. Desperate endurance.
Myso
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