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AI art "青年魔道師1" featuring #Male, #long hair, #solo, #Black hair, #Weapon, #Robe, #Long sleeves and #full body
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青年魔道師1

#Male#long hair#solo#Black hair#Weapon#Robe#Long sleeves#full body
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1boy, solo, male mage, tall stature, very tall and long-limbed, black hair, long hair, straight black hair past the shoulder blades, loose strands across the cheek, dark eyes, thin arched brows, narrow angular face, high cheekbones, long black hooded robe, deep charcoal inner layers, wide sleeves, robe hem falling to the ankles, leather belt with a plain buckle at the waist, tall leather boots, from below, low angle, dutch angle, three-quarter view, standing on a stone step, one hand raised, outstretched arm, fingers curled mid-gesture, sleeve sliding back from the wrist, other hand gripping a tall plain wooden staff, staff planted on the stone, looking to the side, looking down, calm half-lidded eyes, faint closed-lip smile, head tilted slightly, wind-blown hair and robe, dark hollow stone archway, night, deep indigo and charcoal palette with a cold silver edge, single light source. The camera sits low and close to the ground at the foot of a broad worn stone step and looks steeply up, tilted a few degrees off level so the vertical lines of the arch lean against the frame; the single figure towers over the lens from this vantage, his height exaggerated by foreshortening, boot soles large and dark at the bottom of the frame, shoulders and head near the top edge with only a narrow band of night sky above. He stands in three-quarter view on the step's edge, weight settled on his back foot, front foot placed one step lower with the toe turned out, robe hem pooled and stretched across the stone lip. His right arm is lifted and extended diagonally out and down toward the viewer's side, fingers curled loosely half-open as though the gesture had just released something, the wide sleeve sliding back off the forearm and hanging in a deep fold from the elbow; his left hand wraps the plain wooden staff at chest height, thumb over the shaft, the staff's base pressed into the step and wedged into a chipped groove in the stone. His chin is turned aside and down, eyes cast toward the darkness under the arch rather than the lens, lids half lowered, the corners of his mouth barely lifted; one brow sits slightly higher than the other. Long straight black hair falls forward over his right shoulder in a heavy lock that lifts and streams sideways, and the robe's front panel bellies away from his body in the same direction, while the hem stays pinned to the stone. Behind him a plain dark stone archway swallows the background, its carved underside lost in shadow, and his body blocks most of the opening. A cold silver light rises from somewhere below and out of frame in front of him -- the step's top face is lit, the undersides of his jaw and sleeve are lit, the far side of the staff is lit -- and everything above his shoulder line falls into a flat deep indigo dark, with his long shadow thrown backwards up the stone and through the arch, edges softening as it recedes. The palette is closed: black hair and robe, charcoal cloth, grey stone, one cold silver rim, nothing warm. Quiet, imposing.
Show Parameters
Original Prompt
黒髪長髪長身の男魔道師。
Mode
pro
Quality Tag
﹝Prompts﹞
Size
1104 x 1824
Negative
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit
Prompt Helper

Model & LoRA used

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AI artwork
Avatar image of wealthhappy2004
1boy, solo, adult man, mid-20s, bishounen, pretty boy, long black hair, black eyes, god of darkness, sacred darkness, holy dark aura, divine radiance of shadow, from below, worm's-eye view, looking down at viewer, low angle, tall vertical composition, high-collared floor-length black velvet robe, silver embroidery along hems, wide obsidian belt, onyx staff, glowing dark crystal, outstretched arm, holding staff, black and silver palette, cathedral darkness, halo of black light, drifting black motes rising upward The view is from below, near the floor, tilted up: he stands over the camera at the top of a short flight of black stone steps, so his hem and the staff's butt-end sit close and large in the foreground while his head and shoulders recede into a vault of unlit air. His weight rests on his right leg, the left knee bent and the left foot set one step lower, hip cocked; his right hand grips the onyx staff at chest height, thumb-crease pressed into the polished shaft, knuckles pale against it, and the staff's butt is planted on the step beside his forward foot, its dark crystal crowning the frame's upper third. His left arm hangs half-raised with fingers loosely curled, wrist turned outward, and the wide velvet sleeve falls away from the forearm in a long diagonal fold. The high collar stands close to his jaw, one edge of silver embroidery catching light along its rim; the robe is heavy black velvet, its nap reading as soft vertical blooms down the chest and breaking into deep matte shadow below the obsidian belt, whose flat polished face reflects the crystal above in a single stretched vertical highlight. His long black hair is unbound, lifting slightly and drifting to his left as if in a slow updraft, a few strands crossing the collar and one lock falling forward over the silver-embroidered placket; the strands nearest the light separate into fine glossy lines while the mass behind his shoulders sinks into the dark. He looks straight down the camera axis, chin lowered a fraction, lids heavy, lips closed and level, one brow faintly raised -- the calm of something being judged and found small. The light is his own and comes from the crystal at the staff's head: cold, blue-white at the core, bleeding violet at its edges, striking the right side of his jaw, the right cheekbone, the rim of the collar and the top plane of the belt, while the left side of his face and the whole left flank of the robe sink into near-black. Everything above and behind him is unlit vault; the crystal is the only source, and beyond its reach the darkness is absolute. Around and above him the sacred dark thickens into a visible aura -- concentric veils of black that thin to smoky translucency at their edges, ringed by a faint silver corona like a halo rendered in negative, and fine black motes drift upward through it, each one lit only on the face turned toward the crystal. Where the aura's edge crosses the stone behind him, the carved surface is legible in a narrow band and gone in the next; where the staff's crystal hangs close to the velvet of his shoulder, the nap glows a dull violet along the grain while the shaded folds stay dead black -- the light exists only where the cloth faces it. Black, silver and cold violet, nothing else admitted: black in hair, robe and vault; silver in the embroidery, the belt's highlight and the corona; violet only where the crystal's light lands. Clean linework throughout; colours kept gentle, his skin smooth and glossy with a soft sheen along the lit cheek and the back of the gripping hand, and his eyes rendered with expressive depth -- dark irises holding a pinpoint of the crystal's light, lashes distinct. Detail is spent on the face, the gripping hand, the collar's embroidery and the crystal's carved setting; the steps and vault are simplified to big dark shapes. Still, sovereign, quietly terrible.
wealthhappy2004
AI artwork
Avatar image of wealthhappy2004
1boy, solo, adult man, mid-20s, bishounen, pretty boy, long black hair, black eyes, god of darkness, sacred darkness, holy dark aura, divine radiance of shadow, from below, worm's-eye view, looking down at viewer, low angle, tall vertical composition, high-collared floor-length black velvet robe, silver embroidery along hems, wide obsidian belt, onyx staff, glowing dark crystal, outstretched arm, holding staff, black and silver palette, cathedral darkness, halo of black light, drifting black motes rising upward The view is from below, near the floor, tilted up: he stands over the camera at the top of a short flight of black stone steps, so his hem and the staff's butt-end sit close and large in the foreground while his head and shoulders recede into a vault of unlit air. His weight rests on his right leg, the left knee bent and the left foot set one step lower, hip cocked; his right hand grips the onyx staff at chest height, thumb-crease pressed into the polished shaft, knuckles pale against it, and the staff's butt is planted on the step beside his forward foot, its dark crystal crowning the frame's upper third. His left arm hangs half-raised with fingers loosely curled, wrist turned outward, and the wide velvet sleeve falls away from the forearm in a long diagonal fold. The high collar stands close to his jaw, one edge of silver embroidery catching light along its rim; the robe is heavy black velvet, its nap reading as soft vertical blooms down the chest and breaking into deep matte shadow below the obsidian belt, whose flat polished face reflects the crystal above in a single stretched vertical highlight. His long black hair is unbound, lifting slightly and drifting to his left as if in a slow updraft, a few strands crossing the collar and one lock falling forward over the silver-embroidered placket; the strands nearest the light separate into fine glossy lines while the mass behind his shoulders sinks into the dark. He looks straight down the camera axis, chin lowered a fraction, lids heavy, lips closed and level, one brow faintly raised -- the calm of something being judged and found small. The light is his own and comes from the crystal at the staff's head: cold, blue-white at the core, bleeding violet at its edges, striking the right side of his jaw, the right cheekbone, the rim of the collar and the top plane of the belt, while the left side of his face and the whole left flank of the robe sink into near-black. Everything above and behind him is unlit vault; the crystal is the only source, and beyond its reach the darkness is absolute. Around and above him the sacred dark thickens into a visible aura -- concentric veils of black that thin to smoky translucency at their edges, ringed by a faint silver corona like a halo rendered in negative, and fine black motes drift upward through it, each one lit only on the face turned toward the crystal. Where the aura's edge crosses the stone behind him, the carved surface is legible in a narrow band and gone in the next; where the staff's crystal hangs close to the velvet of his shoulder, the nap glows a dull violet along the grain while the shaded folds stay dead black -- the light exists only where the cloth faces it. Black, silver and cold violet, nothing else admitted: black in hair, robe and vault; silver in the embroidery, the belt's highlight and the corona; violet only where the crystal's light lands. Clean linework throughout; colours kept gentle, his skin smooth and glossy with a soft sheen along the lit cheek and the back of the gripping hand, and his eyes rendered with expressive depth -- dark irises holding a pinpoint of the crystal's light, lashes distinct. Detail is spent on the face, the gripping hand, the collar's embroidery and the crystal's carved setting; the steps and vault are simplified to big dark shapes. Still, sovereign, quietly terrible.
wealthhappy2004
AI artwork
Avatar image of wealthhappy2004
1boy, solo, adult man, mid-20s, bishounen, pretty boy, long black hair, black eyes, god of darkness, sacred darkness, holy dark aura, divine radiance of shadow, from below, worm's-eye view, looking down at viewer, low angle, tall vertical composition, high-collared floor-length black velvet robe, silver embroidery along hems, wide obsidian belt, onyx staff, glowing dark crystal, outstretched arm, holding staff, black and silver palette, cathedral darkness, halo of black light, drifting black motes rising upward The view is from below, near the floor, tilted up: he stands over the camera at the top of a short flight of black stone steps, so his hem and the staff's butt-end sit close and large in the foreground while his head and shoulders recede into a vault of unlit air. His weight rests on his right leg, the left knee bent and the left foot set one step lower, hip cocked; his right hand grips the onyx staff at chest height, thumb-crease pressed into the polished shaft, knuckles pale against it, and the staff's butt is planted on the step beside his forward foot, its dark crystal crowning the frame's upper third. His left arm hangs half-raised with fingers loosely curled, wrist turned outward, and the wide velvet sleeve falls away from the forearm in a long diagonal fold. The high collar stands close to his jaw, one edge of silver embroidery catching light along its rim; the robe is heavy black velvet, its nap reading as soft vertical blooms down the chest and breaking into deep matte shadow below the obsidian belt, whose flat polished face reflects the crystal above in a single stretched vertical highlight. His long black hair is unbound, lifting slightly and drifting to his left as if in a slow updraft, a few strands crossing the collar and one lock falling forward over the silver-embroidered placket; the strands nearest the light separate into fine glossy lines while the mass behind his shoulders sinks into the dark. He looks straight down the camera axis, chin lowered a fraction, lids heavy, lips closed and level, one brow faintly raised -- the calm of something being judged and found small. The light is his own and comes from the crystal at the staff's head: cold, blue-white at the core, bleeding violet at its edges, striking the right side of his jaw, the right cheekbone, the rim of the collar and the top plane of the belt, while the left side of his face and the whole left flank of the robe sink into near-black. Everything above and behind him is unlit vault; the crystal is the only source, and beyond its reach the darkness is absolute. Around and above him the sacred dark thickens into a visible aura -- concentric veils of black that thin to smoky translucency at their edges, ringed by a faint silver corona like a halo rendered in negative, and fine black motes drift upward through it, each one lit only on the face turned toward the crystal. Where the aura's edge crosses the stone behind him, the carved surface is legible in a narrow band and gone in the next; where the staff's crystal hangs close to the velvet of his shoulder, the nap glows a dull violet along the grain while the shaded folds stay dead black -- the light exists only where the cloth faces it. Black, silver and cold violet, nothing else admitted: black in hair, robe and vault; silver in the embroidery, the belt's highlight and the corona; violet only where the crystal's light lands. Clean linework throughout; colours kept gentle, his skin smooth and glossy with a soft sheen along the lit cheek and the back of the gripping hand, and his eyes rendered with expressive depth -- dark irises holding a pinpoint of the crystal's light, lashes distinct. Detail is spent on the face, the gripping hand, the collar's embroidery and the crystal's carved setting; the steps and vault are simplified to big dark shapes. Still, sovereign, quietly terrible.
wealthhappy2004

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