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hi its me

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hi its me

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2girls, tall female, curvy, candle woman, pale skin, white hair, melted wax hair, wax hair, white witch hat, red hat details, lit fuse on hat, upright fuse, sparking fuse, elegant white dress, red dress details, grey gloves, white heels, carrying, over shoulder, fireman's carry, bomb girl, black helmet, fuse on helmet, black hair, sharp teeth, black top, grey and yellow striped undershirt, black pants, yellow belt, gentle spank, open hand raised, small smile, closed mouth, elegant stride, walking, mid-step, from side, full body, dynamic angle, dutch angle, looking ahead, indoor, dark hall, candlelight, warm light, shadow, cinematic A three-quarter side view from a low dutch angle, the camera tipped so the vertical lines of the corridor lean, both women crossing the frame left to right at full length. The candle woman leads: a tall, curvy figure with pale skin and a sheen like cooling wax along her bare forearms, and instead of ordinary hair a cascade of melted white wax runs from her crown in soft drips frozen mid-run, some strands still glassy where they taper, a few drops beaded at the tips. A white witch hat sits tilted back on that wax, its brim scalloped and edged with small red stitching, and from a socket at the crown a short fuse stands perfectly upright, burning at the tip with a small clean flame that throws a flicker onto the hat's underside. Her dress is white and long, cut close over the bust and hips and flaring at the hem with red piping down the seams, red knots at the shoulder, a red band at the waist; grey gloves sheathe both hands to the wrist, and white heels lift her onto the ball of the front foot, the rear heel just peeling off the floor. Her small smile is closed-lipped and entirely serene, one brow level, her gaze directed forward along the corridor at nothing in particular. Across her shoulders, belly-down over the left one, the bomb girl rides the fireman's carry: her hips hooked over the shoulder, her torso draped behind the candle woman's neck, one arm hanging loose down the candle woman's back, her black-clad legs dangling in front of the candle woman's chest. A black helmet caps her head, the fuse protruding from its top and hanging down her back at an angle toward the floor, unlit and stubby. Her black hair spills out under the helmet rim. Her face hangs low against the candle woman's shoulder, and her sharp teeth show in a grin with the points catching the light while her eyes look sideways up at the candle woman's face. She wears a black top pulled slightly askew by the carry, the grey-and-yellow striped undershirt showing at the neckline and hem, black pants wrinkled at the knee where they fold over the shoulder, and a yellow belt buckled at her hip. The candle woman's right arm hangs back, and her gloved palm is laid flat and open against the bomb girl's upturned rear, the grey fabric pressed into the black cloth with the seam dented under it — a light, deliberate tap rather than a blow, her wrist loose, and the bomb girl's hips shift a half-inch from the contact. Light is her own flame and nothing else from above: the fuse's fire is the sole source, so the underside of the white hat glows warm, the wax hair throws small translucent highlights, the corridor beyond dissolves into black, and both women's shadows stretch long and slightly doubled along the floorboards behind them. The palette stays white, grey and black with red only in the dress trim and flame, and yellow only in stripes, belt and spark. Quiet, faintly mischievous elegance.
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Original Prompt
a candle woman, a tall, curvy woman, a girl with pale skin, melted wax acting as hair, a white witch hat with little red details, with a ignited fuse sticking upright fron the witch hat, white hair, with an elegant white dress with a few red details all over it, alongside grey gloves and white heels, carrying a girl over her shoulder, the carried girl represents a bomb, , also a tall and curvy girl, with her having a black helmet with a fuse sticking out from it, sharp teeth, black hair, she's wearing a black top, an undershirt that has grey and yellow stripes, alongside black pants and a yellow belt, the candle girl strides forward elegantly, with a small smile on her face, gently spanking the bomb girl.
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flash
Size
1104 x 1824
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Tsubaki.3 Flash - AI Model cover image

PixAI DiT.3

Tsubaki.3 Flash
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Avatar image of hi its me
2girls, tall female, curvy, candle woman, pale skin, white hair, melted wax hair, wax hair, white witch hat, red hat details, lit fuse on hat, upright fuse, sparking fuse, elegant white dress, red dress details, grey gloves, white heels, carrying, over shoulder, fireman's carry, bomb girl, black helmet, fuse on helmet, black hair, sharp teeth, black top, grey and yellow striped undershirt, black pants, yellow belt, gentle spank, open hand raised, small smile, closed mouth, elegant stride, walking, mid-step, from side, full body, dynamic angle, dutch angle, looking ahead, indoor, dark hall, candlelight, warm light, shadow, cinematic A three-quarter side view from a low dutch angle, the camera tipped so the vertical lines of the corridor lean, both women crossing the frame left to right at full length. The candle woman leads: a tall, curvy figure with pale skin and a sheen like cooling wax along her bare forearms, and instead of ordinary hair a cascade of melted white wax runs from her crown in soft drips frozen mid-run, some strands still glassy where they taper, a few drops beaded at the tips. A white witch hat sits tilted back on that wax, its brim scalloped and edged with small red stitching, and from a socket at the crown a short fuse stands perfectly upright, burning at the tip with a small clean flame that throws a flicker onto the hat's underside. Her dress is white and long, cut close over the bust and hips and flaring at the hem with red piping down the seams, red knots at the shoulder, a red band at the waist; grey gloves sheathe both hands to the wrist, and white heels lift her onto the ball of the front foot, the rear heel just peeling off the floor. Her small smile is closed-lipped and entirely serene, one brow level, her gaze directed forward along the corridor at nothing in particular. Across her shoulders, belly-down over the left one, the bomb girl rides the fireman's carry: her hips hooked over the shoulder, her torso draped behind the candle woman's neck, one arm hanging loose down the candle woman's back, her black-clad legs dangling in front of the candle woman's chest. A black helmet caps her head, the fuse protruding from its top and hanging down her back at an angle toward the floor, unlit and stubby. Her black hair spills out under the helmet rim. Her face hangs low against the candle woman's shoulder, and her sharp teeth show in a grin with the points catching the light while her eyes look sideways up at the candle woman's face. She wears a black top pulled slightly askew by the carry, the grey-and-yellow striped undershirt showing at the neckline and hem, black pants wrinkled at the knee where they fold over the shoulder, and a yellow belt buckled at her hip. The candle woman's right arm hangs back, and her gloved palm is laid flat and open against the bomb girl's upturned rear, the grey fabric pressed into the black cloth with the seam dented under it — a light, deliberate tap rather than a blow, her wrist loose, and the bomb girl's hips shift a half-inch from the contact. Light is her own flame and nothing else from above: the fuse's fire is the sole source, so the underside of the white hat glows warm, the wax hair throws small translucent highlights, the corridor beyond dissolves into black, and both women's shadows stretch long and slightly doubled along the floorboards behind them. The palette stays white, grey and black with red only in the dress trim and flame, and yellow only in stripes, belt and spark. Quiet, faintly mischievous elegance.
hi its me
#Hachishaku-sama#Japanese Urban Legends
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Avatar image of hi its me
2girls, tall female, curvy, candle woman, pale skin, white hair, melted wax hair, wax hair, white witch hat, red hat details, lit fuse on hat, upright fuse, sparking fuse, elegant white dress, red dress details, grey gloves, white heels, carrying, over shoulder, fireman's carry, bomb girl, black helmet, fuse on helmet, black hair, sharp teeth, black top, grey and yellow striped undershirt, black pants, yellow belt, gentle spank, open hand raised, small smile, closed mouth, elegant stride, walking, mid-step, from side, full body, dynamic angle, dutch angle, looking ahead, indoor, dark hall, candlelight, warm light, shadow, cinematic A three-quarter side view from a low dutch angle, the camera tipped so the vertical lines of the corridor lean, both women crossing the frame left to right at full length. The candle woman leads: a tall, curvy figure with pale skin and a sheen like cooling wax along her bare forearms, and instead of ordinary hair a cascade of melted white wax runs from her crown in soft drips frozen mid-run, some strands still glassy where they taper, a few drops beaded at the tips. A white witch hat sits tilted back on that wax, its brim scalloped and edged with small red stitching, and from a socket at the crown a short fuse stands perfectly upright, burning at the tip with a small clean flame that throws a flicker onto the hat's underside. Her dress is white and long, cut close over the bust and hips and flaring at the hem with red piping down the seams, red knots at the shoulder, a red band at the waist; grey gloves sheathe both hands to the wrist, and white heels lift her onto the ball of the front foot, the rear heel just peeling off the floor. Her small smile is closed-lipped and entirely serene, one brow level, her gaze directed forward along the corridor at nothing in particular. Across her shoulders, belly-down over the left one, the bomb girl rides the fireman's carry: her hips hooked over the shoulder, her torso draped behind the candle woman's neck, one arm hanging loose down the candle woman's back, her black-clad legs dangling in front of the candle woman's chest. A black helmet caps her head, the fuse protruding from its top and hanging down her back at an angle toward the floor, unlit and stubby. Her black hair spills out under the helmet rim. Her face hangs low against the candle woman's shoulder, and her sharp teeth show in a grin with the points catching the light while her eyes look sideways up at the candle woman's face. She wears a black top pulled slightly askew by the carry, the grey-and-yellow striped undershirt showing at the neckline and hem, black pants wrinkled at the knee where they fold over the shoulder, and a yellow belt buckled at her hip. The candle woman's right arm hangs back, and her gloved palm is laid flat and open against the bomb girl's upturned rear, the grey fabric pressed into the black cloth with the seam dented under it — a light, deliberate tap rather than a blow, her wrist loose, and the bomb girl's hips shift a half-inch from the contact. Light is her own flame and nothing else from above: the fuse's fire is the sole source, so the underside of the white hat glows warm, the wax hair throws small translucent highlights, the corridor beyond dissolves into black, and both women's shadows stretch long and slightly doubled along the floorboards behind them. The palette stays white, grey and black with red only in the dress trim and flame, and yellow only in stripes, belt and spark. Quiet, faintly mischievous elegance.
hi its me
AI artwork
Avatar image of hi its me
2girls, tall female, curvy, candle woman, pale skin, white hair, melted wax hair, wax hair, white witch hat, red hat details, lit fuse on hat, upright fuse, sparking fuse, elegant white dress, red dress details, grey gloves, white heels, carrying, over shoulder, fireman's carry, bomb girl, black helmet, fuse on helmet, black hair, sharp teeth, black top, grey and yellow striped undershirt, black pants, yellow belt, gentle spank, open hand raised, small smile, closed mouth, elegant stride, walking, mid-step, from side, full body, dynamic angle, dutch angle, looking ahead, indoor, dark hall, candlelight, warm light, shadow, cinematic A three-quarter side view from a low dutch angle, the camera tipped so the vertical lines of the corridor lean, both women crossing the frame left to right at full length. The candle woman leads: a tall, curvy figure with pale skin and a sheen like cooling wax along her bare forearms, and instead of ordinary hair a cascade of melted white wax runs from her crown in soft drips frozen mid-run, some strands still glassy where they taper, a few drops beaded at the tips. A white witch hat sits tilted back on that wax, its brim scalloped and edged with small red stitching, and from a socket at the crown a short fuse stands perfectly upright, burning at the tip with a small clean flame that throws a flicker onto the hat's underside. Her dress is white and long, cut close over the bust and hips and flaring at the hem with red piping down the seams, red knots at the shoulder, a red band at the waist; grey gloves sheathe both hands to the wrist, and white heels lift her onto the ball of the front foot, the rear heel just peeling off the floor. Her small smile is closed-lipped and entirely serene, one brow level, her gaze directed forward along the corridor at nothing in particular. Across her shoulders, belly-down over the left one, the bomb girl rides the fireman's carry: her hips hooked over the shoulder, her torso draped behind the candle woman's neck, one arm hanging loose down the candle woman's back, her black-clad legs dangling in front of the candle woman's chest. A black helmet caps her head, the fuse protruding from its top and hanging down her back at an angle toward the floor, unlit and stubby. Her black hair spills out under the helmet rim. Her face hangs low against the candle woman's shoulder, and her sharp teeth show in a grin with the points catching the light while her eyes look sideways up at the candle woman's face. She wears a black top pulled slightly askew by the carry, the grey-and-yellow striped undershirt showing at the neckline and hem, black pants wrinkled at the knee where they fold over the shoulder, and a yellow belt buckled at her hip. The candle woman's right arm hangs back, and her gloved palm is laid flat and open against the bomb girl's upturned rear, the grey fabric pressed into the black cloth with the seam dented under it — a light, deliberate tap rather than a blow, her wrist loose, and the bomb girl's hips shift a half-inch from the contact. Light is her own flame and nothing else from above: the fuse's fire is the sole source, so the underside of the white hat glows warm, the wax hair throws small translucent highlights, the corridor beyond dissolves into black, and both women's shadows stretch long and slightly doubled along the floorboards behind them. The palette stays white, grey and black with red only in the dress trim and flame, and yellow only in stripes, belt and spark. Quiet, faintly mischievous elegance.
hi its me

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