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Ryo Shiratake

Avatar image of Ryo Shiratake

Ryo Shiratake

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character: sailor_moon, copyright: bishoujo_senshi_sailor_moon 1boy, solo, male, 18 years old, long blonde hair, very long hair, center-parted bangs, parted bangs, hair falling over shoulders, handsome cool face, sharp jawline, thick lips, aqua eyes, slim muscular build, lean defined arms, beautiful skin, glossy skin, sensual alluring aura, sailor moon outfit, sailor collar, red choker with crescent moon pendant, white leotard bodice with blue sailor collar and red chest bow with round brooch, short pleated blue skirt, red knee-high heeled boots, long white gloves with red elbow trim, gold crescent tiara on forehead, red hair ornaments at the sides of the head, both arms raised, hands up, surrender, open palms, fingers spread, head tilted down, furrowed brows, gritted teeth, frustrated expression, distressed, alley background, narrow brick backstreet, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, looking down, single light source The camera sits low in a narrow brick backstreet and tilts a few degrees off level, looking up at him so the two walls of the alley converge overhead; he is a lone figure, eighteen, long blonde hair spilling past his shoulders with a clean center part dividing the bangs across his forehead, red ornaments tying the fall of hair at either side of his head. He is backed into the alley's dead end: his shoulders almost touch the brick on both sides, his back half a step from a rusted drainpipe, his weight rocked onto his rear foot with the front heel lifted, knees bent, hips turned a quarter away from the lens while his chest still faces out. Both arms are thrown up beside his head, elbows bent, palms open and fingers spread wide at shoulder height, the long white gloves creasing at the wrists and the red trim riding up; the raised forearms push his blue sailor collar up against his jaw. His chin is tucked, brows drawn hard together, mouth pulled open at one corner over his thick lips in a tight grimace with his teeth showing, a muscle standing in his neck, and his eyes are cut down and off to the side toward the alley mouth, where the one he could not outmatch stands out of frame. Slim and hard-muscled under the white leotard and short pleated blue skirt, the gold tiara catching a hard glint across his forehead, the red chest bow and round brooch lifted by his breathing, the crescent pendant sitting in the hollow of his throat, beautiful skin sheened with a fine sweat that makes the light stick to his collarbones and forearms. The alley is tight and lived-in: wet brick on both sides, a leaning stack of crates and a dented metal can at his right calf, a puddled flagstone floor, a fire escape's iron treads cutting the sky into stripes above. A single cold blue-white lamp high on the left wall is the only light; it rakes down across the bridge of his nose, the tops of his raised gloves and the upper curve of his skirt pleats, throws his eye sockets and the underside of his jaw into deep shadow, and lays his shadow long and doubled down the wet stones, where the puddles repeat his raised arms as broken, darker, softer shapes. Palette held to cold blue-grey brick, the white of the uniform, the red of bow, boots and trim, and the gold of hair and tiara. Cornered, humiliated, still gorgeous.
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Original Prompt
路地裏、男のセーラームーン（イケメンでかっこいい顔, 長髪金髪イケメン、センター分けの前髪、分厚い唇、 細身のマッチョ, 18歳、美しい体型、美しい肌、色っぽい、セーラームーンの服装をしている）。アイドル系美少年戦闘員の色気に負けた追い詰められ、両手を上げて降伏する、悔しい表情のイケメンセーラームーン。
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flash
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768 x 1280
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Tsubaki.3 Flash - AI Model cover image

PixAI DiT.3

Tsubaki.3 Flash
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Avatar image of Ryo Shiratake
character: sailor_moon, copyright: bishoujo_senshi_sailor_moon 1boy, solo, male, 18 years old, long blonde hair, very long hair, center-parted bangs, parted bangs, hair falling over shoulders, handsome cool face, sharp jawline, thick lips, aqua eyes, slim muscular build, lean defined arms, beautiful skin, glossy skin, sensual alluring aura, sailor moon outfit, sailor collar, red choker with crescent moon pendant, white leotard bodice with blue sailor collar and red chest bow with round brooch, short pleated blue skirt, red knee-high heeled boots, long white gloves with red elbow trim, gold crescent tiara on forehead, red hair ornaments at the sides of the head, both arms raised, hands up, surrender, open palms, fingers spread, head tilted down, furrowed brows, gritted teeth, frustrated expression, distressed, alley background, narrow brick backstreet, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, looking down, single light source The camera sits low in a narrow brick backstreet and tilts a few degrees off level, looking up at him so the two walls of the alley converge overhead; he is a lone figure, eighteen, long blonde hair spilling past his shoulders with a clean center part dividing the bangs across his forehead, red ornaments tying the fall of hair at either side of his head. He is backed into the alley's dead end: his shoulders almost touch the brick on both sides, his back half a step from a rusted drainpipe, his weight rocked onto his rear foot with the front heel lifted, knees bent, hips turned a quarter away from the lens while his chest still faces out. Both arms are thrown up beside his head, elbows bent, palms open and fingers spread wide at shoulder height, the long white gloves creasing at the wrists and the red trim riding up; the raised forearms push his blue sailor collar up against his jaw. His chin is tucked, brows drawn hard together, mouth pulled open at one corner over his thick lips in a tight grimace with his teeth showing, a muscle standing in his neck, and his eyes are cut down and off to the side toward the alley mouth, where the one he could not outmatch stands out of frame. Slim and hard-muscled under the white leotard and short pleated blue skirt, the gold tiara catching a hard glint across his forehead, the red chest bow and round brooch lifted by his breathing, the crescent pendant sitting in the hollow of his throat, beautiful skin sheened with a fine sweat that makes the light stick to his collarbones and forearms. The alley is tight and lived-in: wet brick on both sides, a leaning stack of crates and a dented metal can at his right calf, a puddled flagstone floor, a fire escape's iron treads cutting the sky into stripes above. A single cold blue-white lamp high on the left wall is the only light; it rakes down across the bridge of his nose, the tops of his raised gloves and the upper curve of his skirt pleats, throws his eye sockets and the underside of his jaw into deep shadow, and lays his shadow long and doubled down the wet stones, where the puddles repeat his raised arms as broken, darker, softer shapes. Palette held to cold blue-grey brick, the white of the uniform, the red of bow, boots and trim, and the gold of hair and tiara. Cornered, humiliated, still gorgeous.
Ryo Shiratake
AI artwork
Avatar image of Ryo Shiratake
character: sailor_moon, copyright: bishoujo_senshi_sailor_moon 1boy, solo, male, 18 years old, long blonde hair, very long hair, center-parted bangs, parted bangs, hair falling over shoulders, handsome cool face, sharp jawline, thick lips, aqua eyes, slim muscular build, lean defined arms, beautiful skin, glossy skin, sensual alluring aura, sailor moon outfit, sailor collar, red choker with crescent moon pendant, white leotard bodice with blue sailor collar and red chest bow with round brooch, short pleated blue skirt, red knee-high heeled boots, long white gloves with red elbow trim, gold crescent tiara on forehead, red hair ornaments at the sides of the head, both arms raised, hands up, surrender, open palms, fingers spread, head tilted down, furrowed brows, gritted teeth, frustrated expression, distressed, alley background, narrow brick backstreet, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, looking down, single light source The camera sits low in a narrow brick backstreet and tilts a few degrees off level, looking up at him so the two walls of the alley converge overhead; he is a lone figure, eighteen, long blonde hair spilling past his shoulders with a clean center part dividing the bangs across his forehead, red ornaments tying the fall of hair at either side of his head. He is backed into the alley's dead end: his shoulders almost touch the brick on both sides, his back half a step from a rusted drainpipe, his weight rocked onto his rear foot with the front heel lifted, knees bent, hips turned a quarter away from the lens while his chest still faces out. Both arms are thrown up beside his head, elbows bent, palms open and fingers spread wide at shoulder height, the long white gloves creasing at the wrists and the red trim riding up; the raised forearms push his blue sailor collar up against his jaw. His chin is tucked, brows drawn hard together, mouth pulled open at one corner over his thick lips in a tight grimace with his teeth showing, a muscle standing in his neck, and his eyes are cut down and off to the side toward the alley mouth, where the one he could not outmatch stands out of frame. Slim and hard-muscled under the white leotard and short pleated blue skirt, the gold tiara catching a hard glint across his forehead, the red chest bow and round brooch lifted by his breathing, the crescent pendant sitting in the hollow of his throat, beautiful skin sheened with a fine sweat that makes the light stick to his collarbones and forearms. The alley is tight and lived-in: wet brick on both sides, a leaning stack of crates and a dented metal can at his right calf, a puddled flagstone floor, a fire escape's iron treads cutting the sky into stripes above. A single cold blue-white lamp high on the left wall is the only light; it rakes down across the bridge of his nose, the tops of his raised gloves and the upper curve of his skirt pleats, throws his eye sockets and the underside of his jaw into deep shadow, and lays his shadow long and doubled down the wet stones, where the puddles repeat his raised arms as broken, darker, softer shapes. Palette held to cold blue-grey brick, the white of the uniform, the red of bow, boots and trim, and the gold of hair and tiara. Cornered, humiliated, still gorgeous.
Ryo Shiratake
AI artwork
Avatar image of Ryo Shiratake
character: sailor_moon, copyright: bishoujo_senshi_sailor_moon solo, 1boy, male, 18 years old, long blond hair, very long hair, center-parted bangs, hair over shoulders, aqua eyes, thick lips, handsome cool face, sharp jawline, slim muscular build, toned bare arms, beautiful smooth skin, alluring aura, sailor moon outfit, sailor collar, white leotard bodice, blue skirt, red chest bow, round brooch at the chest, elbow-length white gloves, red choker, white knee-high boots with red trim, both arms raised, hands open above head level, palms forward, surrendering, wrists apart, head tilted down, frustrated expression, gritted teeth, furrowed brows, glaring upward, looking at another, back alley, standing against brick wall, from below, dutch angle, medium shot, dim green-blue night light, single light source from above and in front, long shadows, tense atmosphere The camera sits low at hip height in a narrow back alley and tilts a few degrees, looking up: a tall young man stands pressed back against the damp brick of the alley's dead end, and the whole frame holds only him. He is eighteen, slim but defined, the muscle in his bare shoulders and forearms drawn tight under smooth, glowing skin, and his long blond hair falls well past his waist, center-parted bangs separating over his brow and strands sliding forward over one shoulder as his head tips down. His face is handsome in a cool, sculpted way — a sharp jaw, aqua eyes narrowed and burning, thick lips pulled back off his teeth in a grimace. He wears the sailor uniform: white leotard bodice with a broad sailor collar, a blue pleated skirt, the round brooch at his chest, a red bow, a red choker, white elbow-length gloves, and white knee-high boots with red trim. Both arms are thrown straight up above his head, hands open with palms forward and wrists a deliberate hand's width apart — surrender, not a greeting — and his weight is rocked back onto his heels, hips half-slid down the wall, one knee bent out, shoulders jammed up around his ears. Nothing holds his hands; the raised empty gloves are the whole gesture. His chin is tucked and his eyes cut up and to the left toward something out of frame, jaw working, a vein standing at his temple; the frustration is the frustration of a proud fighter cornered by charm rather than force, and it shows in the clamped mouth, the flared nostril and the rigid tendons of his forearms. The alley closes him in: brick on three sides, a strip of night sky far overhead, a dripping standpipe to his left, a couple of crates at the base of the right wall, everything behind him deep in shadow. A single harsh lamp above and ahead of him is the only light source; it strikes the top of his brow, the bridge of his nose, the swell of his raised gloves and one shoulder, throws a long hard shadow of his raised arms down the brick behind him, and lets the rest of him sink into a cool blue-green darkness with a faint warm edge on the highlights. Palette: damp blue-green and black brick, cold white and red of the uniform, and the gold of his hair as the one warm mass. Sweat beads track down his temple and cling in the hollow of his throat, catching pinpoints of that lamp light. Held breath, cornered and grudging.
Ryo Shiratake
AI artwork
Avatar image of Ryo Shiratake
character: sailor_moon, copyright: bishoujo_senshi_sailor_moon solo, 1boy, male, 18 years old, long blond hair, very long hair, center-parted bangs, hair over shoulders, aqua eyes, thick lips, handsome cool face, sharp jawline, slim muscular build, toned bare arms, beautiful smooth skin, alluring aura, sailor moon outfit, sailor collar, white leotard bodice, blue skirt, red chest bow, round brooch at the chest, elbow-length white gloves, red choker, white knee-high boots with red trim, both arms raised, hands open above head level, palms forward, surrendering, wrists apart, head tilted down, frustrated expression, gritted teeth, furrowed brows, glaring upward, looking at another, back alley, standing against brick wall, from below, dutch angle, medium shot, dim green-blue night light, single light source from above and in front, long shadows, tense atmosphere The camera sits low at hip height in a narrow back alley and tilts a few degrees, looking up: a tall young man stands pressed back against the damp brick of the alley's dead end, and the whole frame holds only him. He is eighteen, slim but defined, the muscle in his bare shoulders and forearms drawn tight under smooth, glowing skin, and his long blond hair falls well past his waist, center-parted bangs separating over his brow and strands sliding forward over one shoulder as his head tips down. His face is handsome in a cool, sculpted way — a sharp jaw, aqua eyes narrowed and burning, thick lips pulled back off his teeth in a grimace. He wears the sailor uniform: white leotard bodice with a broad sailor collar, a blue pleated skirt, the round brooch at his chest, a red bow, a red choker, white elbow-length gloves, and white knee-high boots with red trim. Both arms are thrown straight up above his head, hands open with palms forward and wrists a deliberate hand's width apart — surrender, not a greeting — and his weight is rocked back onto his heels, hips half-slid down the wall, one knee bent out, shoulders jammed up around his ears. Nothing holds his hands; the raised empty gloves are the whole gesture. His chin is tucked and his eyes cut up and to the left toward something out of frame, jaw working, a vein standing at his temple; the frustration is the frustration of a proud fighter cornered by charm rather than force, and it shows in the clamped mouth, the flared nostril and the rigid tendons of his forearms. The alley closes him in: brick on three sides, a strip of night sky far overhead, a dripping standpipe to his left, a couple of crates at the base of the right wall, everything behind him deep in shadow. A single harsh lamp above and ahead of him is the only light source; it strikes the top of his brow, the bridge of his nose, the swell of his raised gloves and one shoulder, throws a long hard shadow of his raised arms down the brick behind him, and lets the rest of him sink into a cool blue-green darkness with a faint warm edge on the highlights. Palette: damp blue-green and black brick, cold white and red of the uniform, and the gold of his hair as the one warm mass. Sweat beads track down his temple and cling in the hollow of his throat, catching pinpoints of that lamp light. Held breath, cornered and grudging.
Ryo Shiratake

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