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ミチル

ミ

ミチル

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1girl, solo, young girl, child, long hair, white hair, straight hair, blunt bangs, expressionless, blank stare, doll-like, white fantasy outfit, white dress, layered dress, lace trim, highcollar, long sleeves, billowing sleeves, bare hands, bare legs, bare feet, neat, refined, pristine, standing, tiptoes, reaching up, outstretched arm, arm up, hand reaching, fingers spread, from below, full body, low angle, dutch angle, looking up, wide-eyed, jitome, small mouth, closed mouth, no smile, plain smooth forehead, unadorned hair, empty white field, soft overhead light, cool white palette The camera sits low, near the ground and tilted a few degrees off level, so the girl towers into the top of the frame: seen from below, close to her feet and looking steeply up past her hem, her chin, and the whole tilted run of her. She is a small child of perhaps five or six, slender and fine-boned, and she stands on the balls of both bare feet, heels lifted clear of a floor that is not there -- a seamless, completely empty white field with no horizon line, no wall, no furniture, nothing but her shadowless white surroundings. Her weight rides on the ball of her right foot while the left foot's toes just graze lower, so the whole small body leans slightly, and her right arm is flung up and out overhead at a diagonal, reaching for something above the frame edge, fingers spread wide, the arm's line continuing the lean of her spine. Her left hand hangs loose at her side, fingers curled and relaxed, forgotten. Her head is tipped back to follow the reaching hand, chin lifted, throat exposed, and her eyes go up and out of frame after whatever she is reaching for -- wide, unblinking, absolutely flat, neither eager nor afraid. Her hair is white as new paper, long and dead straight, falling past her waist and hanging heavy from the tilt of her head so that a long broad sheet of it swings behind her right shoulder and trails down toward her hip; the crown is smooth and completely unadorned, no ribbon, no clip, and the bangs are cut in a single clean horizontal line straight across her brow, every strand exactly the same length, the line unbroken and perfectly straight even as her face tips back. Her eyes are pale, her small mouth is closed in a straight line, her brows are still, her cheeks give nothing: a mask of perfect, formal composure on a face turned upward. Her outfit is white on white -- a fantasy dress of layered pale silk, a high collar closed snug under her jaw with a single line of tiny covered buttons, long sleeves that billow and sag and swing back from the raised arm so the excess fabric drops toward her shoulder, a fitted bodice and layered lace-edged tiers of skirt that flare out and hang in slow folds from her lifted heel. Both hands are bare. No ornament, no jewellery, no gloves. An overhead light of even, cool whiteness comes down from directly above and slightly behind her, so the tops of the raised sleeve, the crown of her hair and the upper rims of the skirt tiers turn brighter than anything else, while a soft grey shadow pools under her lifted chin, inside the collar, beneath the bangs across her brow, and in the deep folds of the skirt, and the underside of the reaching forearm is a cool half-tone. A single strand of the blunt fringe is displaced a millimetre out of line by the upward tilt of her head -- the one place the perfect horizontal breaks. The palette admits only white, ivory, cool grey shadow and the faintest blue in the shaded silk. Absolutely still, unnervingly serene.
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Prompt original
幼女、長い髪、清楚、白いファンタジー衣装、無表情、切りそろえた前髪、、白い髪
Modo
flash
Tamaño
1104 x 1824
Asistente de prompts

Modelo y LoRA utilizados

Tsubaki.3 Flash - AI Model cover image

PixAI DiT.3

Tsubaki.3 Flash
1.34k

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AI artwork
ミ
1girl, solo, young girl, child, long hair, white hair, straight hair, blunt bangs, expressionless, blank stare, doll-like, white fantasy outfit, white dress, layered dress, lace trim, highcollar, long sleeves, billowing sleeves, bare hands, bare legs, bare feet, neat, refined, pristine, standing, tiptoes, reaching up, outstretched arm, arm up, hand reaching, fingers spread, from below, full body, low angle, dutch angle, looking up, wide-eyed, jitome, small mouth, closed mouth, no smile, plain smooth forehead, unadorned hair, empty white field, soft overhead light, cool white palette The camera sits low, near the ground and tilted a few degrees off level, so the girl towers into the top of the frame: seen from below, close to her feet and looking steeply up past her hem, her chin, and the whole tilted run of her. She is a small child of perhaps five or six, slender and fine-boned, and she stands on the balls of both bare feet, heels lifted clear of a floor that is not there -- a seamless, completely empty white field with no horizon line, no wall, no furniture, nothing but her shadowless white surroundings. Her weight rides on the ball of her right foot while the left foot's toes just graze lower, so the whole small body leans slightly, and her right arm is flung up and out overhead at a diagonal, reaching for something above the frame edge, fingers spread wide, the arm's line continuing the lean of her spine. Her left hand hangs loose at her side, fingers curled and relaxed, forgotten. Her head is tipped back to follow the reaching hand, chin lifted, throat exposed, and her eyes go up and out of frame after whatever she is reaching for -- wide, unblinking, absolutely flat, neither eager nor afraid. Her hair is white as new paper, long and dead straight, falling past her waist and hanging heavy from the tilt of her head so that a long broad sheet of it swings behind her right shoulder and trails down toward her hip; the crown is smooth and completely unadorned, no ribbon, no clip, and the bangs are cut in a single clean horizontal line straight across her brow, every strand exactly the same length, the line unbroken and perfectly straight even as her face tips back. Her eyes are pale, her small mouth is closed in a straight line, her brows are still, her cheeks give nothing: a mask of perfect, formal composure on a face turned upward. Her outfit is white on white -- a fantasy dress of layered pale silk, a high collar closed snug under her jaw with a single line of tiny covered buttons, long sleeves that billow and sag and swing back from the raised arm so the excess fabric drops toward her shoulder, a fitted bodice and layered lace-edged tiers of skirt that flare out and hang in slow folds from her lifted heel. Both hands are bare. No ornament, no jewellery, no gloves. An overhead light of even, cool whiteness comes down from directly above and slightly behind her, so the tops of the raised sleeve, the crown of her hair and the upper rims of the skirt tiers turn brighter than anything else, while a soft grey shadow pools under her lifted chin, inside the collar, beneath the bangs across her brow, and in the deep folds of the skirt, and the underside of the reaching forearm is a cool half-tone. A single strand of the blunt fringe is displaced a millimetre out of line by the upward tilt of her head -- the one place the perfect horizontal breaks. The palette admits only white, ivory, cool grey shadow and the faintest blue in the shaded silk. Absolutely still, unnervingly serene.
ミチル
AI artwork
ミ
1girl, solo, young girl, child, long hair, white hair, straight hair, blunt bangs, expressionless, blank stare, doll-like, white fantasy outfit, white dress, layered dress, lace trim, highcollar, long sleeves, billowing sleeves, bare hands, bare legs, bare feet, neat, refined, pristine, standing, tiptoes, reaching up, outstretched arm, arm up, hand reaching, fingers spread, from below, full body, low angle, dutch angle, looking up, wide-eyed, jitome, small mouth, closed mouth, no smile, plain smooth forehead, unadorned hair, empty white field, soft overhead light, cool white palette The camera sits low, near the ground and tilted a few degrees off level, so the girl towers into the top of the frame: seen from below, close to her feet and looking steeply up past her hem, her chin, and the whole tilted run of her. She is a small child of perhaps five or six, slender and fine-boned, and she stands on the balls of both bare feet, heels lifted clear of a floor that is not there -- a seamless, completely empty white field with no horizon line, no wall, no furniture, nothing but her shadowless white surroundings. Her weight rides on the ball of her right foot while the left foot's toes just graze lower, so the whole small body leans slightly, and her right arm is flung up and out overhead at a diagonal, reaching for something above the frame edge, fingers spread wide, the arm's line continuing the lean of her spine. Her left hand hangs loose at her side, fingers curled and relaxed, forgotten. Her head is tipped back to follow the reaching hand, chin lifted, throat exposed, and her eyes go up and out of frame after whatever she is reaching for -- wide, unblinking, absolutely flat, neither eager nor afraid. Her hair is white as new paper, long and dead straight, falling past her waist and hanging heavy from the tilt of her head so that a long broad sheet of it swings behind her right shoulder and trails down toward her hip; the crown is smooth and completely unadorned, no ribbon, no clip, and the bangs are cut in a single clean horizontal line straight across her brow, every strand exactly the same length, the line unbroken and perfectly straight even as her face tips back. Her eyes are pale, her small mouth is closed in a straight line, her brows are still, her cheeks give nothing: a mask of perfect, formal composure on a face turned upward. Her outfit is white on white -- a fantasy dress of layered pale silk, a high collar closed snug under her jaw with a single line of tiny covered buttons, long sleeves that billow and sag and swing back from the raised arm so the excess fabric drops toward her shoulder, a fitted bodice and layered lace-edged tiers of skirt that flare out and hang in slow folds from her lifted heel. Both hands are bare. No ornament, no jewellery, no gloves. An overhead light of even, cool whiteness comes down from directly above and slightly behind her, so the tops of the raised sleeve, the crown of her hair and the upper rims of the skirt tiers turn brighter than anything else, while a soft grey shadow pools under her lifted chin, inside the collar, beneath the bangs across her brow, and in the deep folds of the skirt, and the underside of the reaching forearm is a cool half-tone. A single strand of the blunt fringe is displaced a millimetre out of line by the upward tilt of her head -- the one place the perfect horizontal breaks. The palette admits only white, ivory, cool grey shadow and the faintest blue in the shaded silk. Absolutely still, unnervingly serene.
ミチル
AI artwork
ミ
1girl, solo, young girl, child, long hair, white hair, straight hair, blunt bangs, expressionless, blank stare, doll-like, white fantasy outfit, white dress, layered dress, lace trim, highcollar, long sleeves, billowing sleeves, bare hands, bare legs, bare feet, neat, refined, pristine, standing, tiptoes, reaching up, outstretched arm, arm up, hand reaching, fingers spread, from below, full body, low angle, dutch angle, looking up, wide-eyed, jitome, small mouth, closed mouth, no smile, plain smooth forehead, unadorned hair, empty white field, soft overhead light, cool white palette The camera sits low, near the ground and tilted a few degrees off level, so the girl towers into the top of the frame: seen from below, close to her feet and looking steeply up past her hem, her chin, and the whole tilted run of her. She is a small child of perhaps five or six, slender and fine-boned, and she stands on the balls of both bare feet, heels lifted clear of a floor that is not there -- a seamless, completely empty white field with no horizon line, no wall, no furniture, nothing but her shadowless white surroundings. Her weight rides on the ball of her right foot while the left foot's toes just graze lower, so the whole small body leans slightly, and her right arm is flung up and out overhead at a diagonal, reaching for something above the frame edge, fingers spread wide, the arm's line continuing the lean of her spine. Her left hand hangs loose at her side, fingers curled and relaxed, forgotten. Her head is tipped back to follow the reaching hand, chin lifted, throat exposed, and her eyes go up and out of frame after whatever she is reaching for -- wide, unblinking, absolutely flat, neither eager nor afraid. Her hair is white as new paper, long and dead straight, falling past her waist and hanging heavy from the tilt of her head so that a long broad sheet of it swings behind her right shoulder and trails down toward her hip; the crown is smooth and completely unadorned, no ribbon, no clip, and the bangs are cut in a single clean horizontal line straight across her brow, every strand exactly the same length, the line unbroken and perfectly straight even as her face tips back. Her eyes are pale, her small mouth is closed in a straight line, her brows are still, her cheeks give nothing: a mask of perfect, formal composure on a face turned upward. Her outfit is white on white -- a fantasy dress of layered pale silk, a high collar closed snug under her jaw with a single line of tiny covered buttons, long sleeves that billow and sag and swing back from the raised arm so the excess fabric drops toward her shoulder, a fitted bodice and layered lace-edged tiers of skirt that flare out and hang in slow folds from her lifted heel. Both hands are bare. No ornament, no jewellery, no gloves. An overhead light of even, cool whiteness comes down from directly above and slightly behind her, so the tops of the raised sleeve, the crown of her hair and the upper rims of the skirt tiers turn brighter than anything else, while a soft grey shadow pools under her lifted chin, inside the collar, beneath the bangs across her brow, and in the deep folds of the skirt, and the underside of the reaching forearm is a cool half-tone. A single strand of the blunt fringe is displaced a millimetre out of line by the upward tilt of her head -- the one place the perfect horizontal breaks. The palette admits only white, ivory, cool grey shadow and the faintest blue in the shaded silk. Absolutely still, unnervingly serene.
ミチル

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음안
character: eren_yeager, mikasa_ackerman character: eren_yeager, mikasa_ackerman Mikasa Ackerman and Eren Yeager are captured in the middle of a desperate ODM maneuver above a ruined city street, with Mikasa much closer to the camera and Eren cutting across the background at a different angle. Mikasa twists her entire body sideways as she launches past the viewer, one arm extended forward with a blade in hand while the other reaches back toward Eren. Her black hair whips violently across the frame and her red scarf streams far behind her in a long sweeping curve. Eren is several meters behind her, angled sharply in the opposite direction as his ODM cables stretch from his gear toward a damaged rooftop, his green jacket and hair blown backward by the speed of the maneuver. The perspective is extremely dynamic: Mikasa's outstretched hand and blade are large in the foreground while her body rapidly narrows toward the center of the image. Eren appears smaller but perfectly clear behind her, creating a strong diagonal connection between them. Their ODM cables slice through the composition as thin steel lines, crossing the image at different angles and disappearing beyond the frame. One cable passes extremely close to the camera, creating a dramatic foreground line. The ruined city beneath them is not shown as a wide landscape. Broken rooftops, shattered windows, hanging masonry, and fragments of brick rush diagonally through the lower portion of the composition, giving the impression of immense speed. Several pieces of debris are suspended around Mikasa and Eren, each frozen at a different distance from the camera. Dust catches the sunlight in thin atmospheric streaks. Mikasa's Survey Corps uniform is sharply detailed and windswept, with the cropped brown jacket open over the fitted uniform, harness straps pulled taut across her body, white trousers, tall boots, and the Wings of Freedom insignia clearly visible. Eren wears his recognizable Survey Corps uniform and green jacket, with his harness, ODM equipment, and boots rendered with precise mechanical detail. A subtle graphic-design layer is integrated into the composition without overpowering the action: Wings of Freedom emblem are overlaid across the sky, Thin white directional lines follow the trajectories of Mikasa and Eren, while small restrained military-style markings and typography sit along the edges of the frame. The graphic elements reinforce the movement rather than becoming random decoration. The entire image is frozen at one extraordinary instant: Mikasa's scarf curves through the air, Eren's jacket flares behind him, cables are pulled completely taut, debris hangs in the air, dust streams diagonally through the sunlight, and both characters are caught at different points of the same sweeping maneuver. Nothing feels static. Painterly digital anime illustration, expressive textured brushwork, cinematic motion frozen in a single frame, extreme wide-angle perspective, dramatic foreshortening, strong diagonals, layered depth, detailed characters, flowing hair and fabric, taut cables, airborne debris, warm sunlight cutting through cool gray ruins, muted military colors with Mikasa's red scarf as the strongest accent, sophisticated composition, subtle graphic design, powerful silhouettes, intense expressions, visceral sense of speed, beautiful atmospheric lighting, energetic, cinematic
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3#Ataque a los titanes#Mikasa Ackerman
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