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AI artwork featuring #Rage of Bahamut
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Rage of Bahamut

#Rage of Bahamut
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Komentarze

Solo, 1woman, strawberry blonde hair, aura, tired, surreal background, Japanese influence, , burn_legend_art_style, illustration, detailed environment,burn_legend_art_style, illustration, detailed environment,aura, tired,at_the_gates_art_style, colorful_fantasy_setting, ttrpg_illustration_style, masterpiece
Pokaż parametry
Oryginalny prompt
Solo, 1woman, strawberry blonde hair, aura, tired, surreal background, Japanese influence, , burn_legend_art_style, illustration, detailed environment,burn_legend_art_style, illustration, detailed environment,aura, tired,at_the_gates_art_style, colorful_fantasy_setting, ttrpg_illustration_style, masterpiece
Tryb
pro
Rozmiar
1408 x 1408
Metoda próbkowania
Euler
Niepożądane
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit, (nsfw:1.2),(nude:1.6),(nipple:1.2),naked

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AI artwork
Avatar image of fishyfishyfish
1girl, solo, anime style, blonde hair, long hair, grey eyes, sitting, sitting on floor, knees drawn up, stacked books, lots of books, book pile, hardcover books, leather-bound books, extravagant room, tall bookshelves, cool color tones, blue palette, lost in thought, calm expression, half-closed eyes, looking down, head tilt, chin resting on hand, elbow on knee, from above, three-quarter view, dutch angle, dim interior, volumetric light, dust motes, candlelight, chiaroscuro, high-collared white blouse, puffed sleeves, pleated navy skirt, bare earlobes, unadorned hair, heavy atmosphere, quiet melancholy Seen from above and slightly off-axis, the camera tilted a few degrees so the room's verticals lean, a single girl sits on the parquet floor at the center of a ring of books, three-quarter turned so her left shoulder faces the lens and her face is angled down toward her lap. Long blonde hair falls loose past her shoulders, its outer strands resting flat against the white cotton of her high-collared blouse and a few tips caught in the seam of a closed book beneath her hip; both earlobes are bare and the hair is entirely unadorned, nothing clipped or pinned in it. She sits with her legs folded to one side, weight sunk into her right hip, left knee drawn up; her left elbow rests on that knee and her left cheek sits against the heel of her hand, fingers slack and slightly curled into the hair at her temple. Her right hand lies open across the top board of a thick leather-spined volume in her lap, thumb along its fore-edge, the book's weight pressing a crease into the pleated navy wool of her skirt. Grey eyes are lowered, unfocused, aimed at nothing on the page; lashes low, lips closed and relaxed, one brow marginally higher than the other. She does not look at the camera. Books surround her in haphazard towers of unequal height — stacked shoulder-high to her right, a leaning column behind her left shoulder supported against a shelf plinth, a spilled fan of open volumes at her feet with one spine cracked and pages splayed; the stacks nearest her are in sharp focus, their gilt spine bands and tooled leather catching the light, while the far shelves dissolve into the gloom. The room is extravagant and old: coffered ceiling with carved molding, a tall arched window whose mullions throw long grid shadows across the floor, a marble mantel and heavy drapery barely legible in the upper dark, brass shelf rails and a rolling library ladder at the far edge of the frame. The only light is a low, cold shaft from the arched window, spilling down from the top-left of the frame; it strikes the crown of her blonde head, the ridge of her nose, the fold of her left sleeve and the gilded lettering on the nearest stack, and everything outside that shaft — the corners of the room, the troughs between book towers, the underside of her chin — is deeply shadowed and blue. A faint mote of dust drifts through the beam, visible only where the light crosses it. Her cast shadow falls long and soft to the lower right, deformed by the books it climbs over. Cool tones rule the whole image: slate and indigo in the shadows, cold pewter in the marble, steel-blue in the wool of her skirt, the only warmth a dulled parchment cream in the page edges and a trace of honey in her blonde hair where the light grazes it — nothing else admitted. The detail budget sits on her hands, her lowered face and the nearest books; the room's ornament is simplified into big carved shapes and dark silhouettes. Impasto-influenced anime painting with pronounced lighting highlights, luminous highlights against rich muted tones, subtle retro flair with Western illustration. Quiet, heavy, suspended.
fishyfishyfish
AI artwork
Avatar image of fishyfishyfish
1girl, solo, anime style, blonde hair, long hair, grey eyes, sitting, sitting on floor, knees drawn up, stacked books, lots of books, book pile, hardcover books, leather-bound books, extravagant room, tall bookshelves, cool color tones, blue palette, lost in thought, calm expression, half-closed eyes, looking down, head tilt, chin resting on hand, elbow on knee, from above, three-quarter view, dutch angle, dim interior, volumetric light, dust motes, candlelight, chiaroscuro, high-collared white blouse, puffed sleeves, pleated navy skirt, bare earlobes, unadorned hair, heavy atmosphere, quiet melancholy Seen from above and slightly off-axis, the camera tilted a few degrees so the room's verticals lean, a single girl sits on the parquet floor at the center of a ring of books, three-quarter turned so her left shoulder faces the lens and her face is angled down toward her lap. Long blonde hair falls loose past her shoulders, its outer strands resting flat against the white cotton of her high-collared blouse and a few tips caught in the seam of a closed book beneath her hip; both earlobes are bare and the hair is entirely unadorned, nothing clipped or pinned in it. She sits with her legs folded to one side, weight sunk into her right hip, left knee drawn up; her left elbow rests on that knee and her left cheek sits against the heel of her hand, fingers slack and slightly curled into the hair at her temple. Her right hand lies open across the top board of a thick leather-spined volume in her lap, thumb along its fore-edge, the book's weight pressing a crease into the pleated navy wool of her skirt. Grey eyes are lowered, unfocused, aimed at nothing on the page; lashes low, lips closed and relaxed, one brow marginally higher than the other. She does not look at the camera. Books surround her in haphazard towers of unequal height — stacked shoulder-high to her right, a leaning column behind her left shoulder supported against a shelf plinth, a spilled fan of open volumes at her feet with one spine cracked and pages splayed; the stacks nearest her are in sharp focus, their gilt spine bands and tooled leather catching the light, while the far shelves dissolve into the gloom. The room is extravagant and old: coffered ceiling with carved molding, a tall arched window whose mullions throw long grid shadows across the floor, a marble mantel and heavy drapery barely legible in the upper dark, brass shelf rails and a rolling library ladder at the far edge of the frame. The only light is a low, cold shaft from the arched window, spilling down from the top-left of the frame; it strikes the crown of her blonde head, the ridge of her nose, the fold of her left sleeve and the gilded lettering on the nearest stack, and everything outside that shaft — the corners of the room, the troughs between book towers, the underside of her chin — is deeply shadowed and blue. A faint mote of dust drifts through the beam, visible only where the light crosses it. Her cast shadow falls long and soft to the lower right, deformed by the books it climbs over. Cool tones rule the whole image: slate and indigo in the shadows, cold pewter in the marble, steel-blue in the wool of her skirt, the only warmth a dulled parchment cream in the page edges and a trace of honey in her blonde hair where the light grazes it — nothing else admitted. The detail budget sits on her hands, her lowered face and the nearest books; the room's ornament is simplified into big carved shapes and dark silhouettes. Impasto-influenced anime painting with pronounced lighting highlights, luminous highlights against rich muted tones, subtle retro flair with Western illustration. Quiet, heavy, suspended.
fishyfishyfish
AI artwork
Avatar image of fishyfishyfish
1girl, solo, anime style, blonde hair, long hair, grey eyes, sitting, sitting on floor, knees drawn up, stacked books, lots of books, book pile, hardcover books, leather-bound books, extravagant room, tall bookshelves, cool color tones, blue palette, lost in thought, calm expression, half-closed eyes, looking down, head tilt, chin resting on hand, elbow on knee, from above, three-quarter view, dutch angle, dim interior, volumetric light, dust motes, candlelight, chiaroscuro, high-collared white blouse, puffed sleeves, pleated navy skirt, bare earlobes, unadorned hair, heavy atmosphere, quiet melancholy Seen from above and slightly off-axis, the camera tilted a few degrees so the room's verticals lean, a single girl sits on the parquet floor at the center of a ring of books, three-quarter turned so her left shoulder faces the lens and her face is angled down toward her lap. Long blonde hair falls loose past her shoulders, its outer strands resting flat against the white cotton of her high-collared blouse and a few tips caught in the seam of a closed book beneath her hip; both earlobes are bare and the hair is entirely unadorned, nothing clipped or pinned in it. She sits with her legs folded to one side, weight sunk into her right hip, left knee drawn up; her left elbow rests on that knee and her left cheek sits against the heel of her hand, fingers slack and slightly curled into the hair at her temple. Her right hand lies open across the top board of a thick leather-spined volume in her lap, thumb along its fore-edge, the book's weight pressing a crease into the pleated navy wool of her skirt. Grey eyes are lowered, unfocused, aimed at nothing on the page; lashes low, lips closed and relaxed, one brow marginally higher than the other. She does not look at the camera. Books surround her in haphazard towers of unequal height — stacked shoulder-high to her right, a leaning column behind her left shoulder supported against a shelf plinth, a spilled fan of open volumes at her feet with one spine cracked and pages splayed; the stacks nearest her are in sharp focus, their gilt spine bands and tooled leather catching the light, while the far shelves dissolve into the gloom. The room is extravagant and old: coffered ceiling with carved molding, a tall arched window whose mullions throw long grid shadows across the floor, a marble mantel and heavy drapery barely legible in the upper dark, brass shelf rails and a rolling library ladder at the far edge of the frame. The only light is a low, cold shaft from the arched window, spilling down from the top-left of the frame; it strikes the crown of her blonde head, the ridge of her nose, the fold of her left sleeve and the gilded lettering on the nearest stack, and everything outside that shaft — the corners of the room, the troughs between book towers, the underside of her chin — is deeply shadowed and blue. A faint mote of dust drifts through the beam, visible only where the light crosses it. Her cast shadow falls long and soft to the lower right, deformed by the books it climbs over. Cool tones rule the whole image: slate and indigo in the shadows, cold pewter in the marble, steel-blue in the wool of her skirt, the only warmth a dulled parchment cream in the page edges and a trace of honey in her blonde hair where the light grazes it — nothing else admitted. The detail budget sits on her hands, her lowered face and the nearest books; the room's ornament is simplified into big carved shapes and dark silhouettes. Impasto-influenced anime painting with pronounced lighting highlights, luminous highlights against rich muted tones, subtle retro flair with Western illustration. Quiet, heavy, suspended.
fishyfishyfish

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