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AI artwork featuring #The Idolmaster, #lua vermelha, #cabelo castanho, #empunhadura dupla, #1 garota and #Atirando
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The Idolmaster, lua vermelha

Arte de IA de のらねこ no PixAI. Tags: cabelo castanho, empunhadura dupla, Atirando. Criado com Tsubaki.3 Flash.

#The Idolmaster#lua vermelha#cabelo castanho#empunhadura dupla#1 garota#Atirando
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のらねこ

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copyright: guilty_gear guilty gear inspired fighting game illustration, dynamic action pose, high-energy cel-shaded anime rendering, sharp graphic silhouettes, dramatic foreshortening, devastated city, black maid outfit, running while firing a submachine gun, dead eyes, beautiful red moon,
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Entrada de Instrução Original
荒廃した都市、黒いメイド服、サブマシンガンを撃ちながら走っている、死んだ瞳、綺麗な紅い月、
Modo
flash
Tamanho
1104 x 1824

Modelo & LoRA usado

Tsubaki.3 Flash - AI Model cover image

PixAI DiT.3

Tsubaki.3 Flash
2.15k
Cool pose - AI Model cover image

LoRA de Usuário

Cool pose
1.08k

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1girl, solo, black maid dress, short black dress, white frilled apron, white lace headpiece, black thighhighs, black shoes, holding submachine gun, firing, muzzle flash, running, sprinting, dead eyes, empty eyes, expressionless, blank stare, toned, dilapidated city, ruined buildings, collapsed concrete, rubble, broken asphalt, red moon, giant moon, night, from below, dutch angle, wide shot, foreshortening, motion blur, smoke, dust, debris, sparks, shell casings, cold blue-grey palette, crimson accent, cinematic Low-angle wide shot from the cracked asphalt, tilted a few degrees off level so the street rears diagonally across the frame. A young woman sprints toward the lower left of the lens, caught mid-stride: her left leg drives forward with the knee lifted and the foot not yet down, her right leg trails, toe-off, the heel of her right shoe just leaving a rubble chunk, weight riding over the ball of the forward foot; her torso is pitched forward about fifteen degrees, shoulders squared to the run, spine twisted slightly so the submachine gun swings across her chest. Both hands are on the weapon: her right hand wrapped around the grip with the index finger inside the trigger guard, her left hand cupping the foregrip ahead of the magazine, the stock pressed into the hollow of her right shoulder. The black metal receiver is short and boxy with a folding wire stock, foreshortened toward the viewer, and a hot white-orange muzzle flash blooms off the barrel in a ragged star, throwing her shadow backwards hard and long. Her head is turned to her own right, chin level, following the muzzle; eyes wide open and completely flat, the irises catching the flash as small hard highlights with no warmth in them, lower lids still, brows level, lips closed and slack, no snarl, no fear, nothing behind the face. Pale skin, long straight black hair torn backwards off her shoulders by the run, loose strands whipping across her cheek and one lock stuck to her jaw. The black maid dress is cut short above the knee, its skirt panels flung back and lifted by her stride so the white frilled apron snaps flat against her thighs then peels away; the apron's hem is grey with dust, one shoulder strap slipped a centimetre off her collarbone, the white lace headpiece pushed back on her crown with its ribbon ends streaming behind her head. Black thighhighs, a scuff on the left knee, black shoes gripping and skidding on loose grit. A brass casing tumbles out of the ejection port mid-air beside her hip, another already bouncing off the pavement behind her heel, and a thin trail of burned-cordite smoke curls back along the barrel, dragged sideways by her forward motion. Around and behind her the ruined city opens up: a shattered avenue running away to the right, its asphalt split into slabs tilted against each other, rebar curling out of broken concrete, a collapsed overpass cutting the middle distance, an emptied office block with its windows blown black. Dust hangs in the street, kicked up by her passage, and a low haze softens the far buildings. High in the upper right of the frame the moon fills a quarter of the sky — enormous, close, a clean saturated crimson disc with faint darker maria across it — and its red light is the only light in the scene, so the tops of the rubble and one side of her cheek and shoulder take a dull red rim while every surface facing away sinks into cold blue-black; the muzzle flash adds a brief local white glare across the front of her apron, her forearms and the underside of her chin. Palette held to cold graphite blue-grey and ash for the city, dense black for the dress and weapon, and crimson reserved for the moon, its rim-light and the flash's hot core; nothing else saturated. Fine grit and papery dust texture in the air, hard specular glints on the gun's edges, faint film-like softness at the frame's borders. Numb, relentless.
のらねこ
#lua vermelha#submetralhadora#Bala

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