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Padre ¿Qué puedo hacer?
Arte IA «Padre ¿Qué puedo hacer?» di Josuhe Espinoza su PixAI. Tag: Le bizzarre avventure di JoJo: Vento Aureo. Creato con Serin.
Mostra parametri
- Immissione richiesta originale
- An exorcist carrying an open Bible, its pages fluttering in the wind, walks down a path between two buildings. The area is dimly lit; in the background, more distorted buildings are visible. The night sky is studded with stars, and a crescent moon casts a faint glow over the scene.
- Tag qualità
- high quality, year_2025, year_2024, ﹝Prompt﹞
- Dimensione
- 720 x 1280
- Passaggi di campionamento
- 25
- Metodo di campionamento
- Euler
- Scala CFG
- 4.5
- Negativo
- bad quality, low quality, worst quality, lowres, nsfw, jpeg artifacts, scan artifacts, mosaic, cropped, error, fewer digits, bad reflection, bad composition, bad anatomy, bad hands, bad fingers, missing fingers, extra hands, extra legs, excess fingers, light particles, artist name, text, watermark, username, copyright name
Modello e LoRA utilizzati
Immagini simili
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서담
고요한 성당의 사제
서담
The Wise Old Priest
Qullah.
u2
1boy, solo, muscular, moderate muscle mass, priest outfit, cassock, dark brown hair, dull eyes, lusterless eyes, no highlights in eyes, mocking sneer, scornful smile, arms spread, arms outstretched, both arms up, looking up, head tilted back, cloudy sky, overcast, from below, low-angle shot, worm's-eye view, seen from below, wide shot, outdoors
A single man seen from a low angle looking steeply up from near his feet, so his body rises away from the camera in strong foreshortening: the hem of his black cassock fills the bottom of the frame, the skirt of the garment falling in heavy folds toward the lens, and his torso and shoulders taper upward against the sky. He stands with his weight settled onto his back foot, hips slightly cocked, chest opened; both arms are flung wide and slightly back, palms turned up and open, fingers loosely spread, wrists relaxed, the black sleeves of the cassock sliding down toward his elbows so the forearms and a moderate, compact build of muscle show — rounded deltoids and a solid chest under the cloth, definition kept lean and believable, never a bodybuilder's bulk. His chin is lifted, throat exposed, head tipped back so his face presents in three-quarter low view: dark brown hair, short and a little tousled, strands shifting back from his temples, the underside of his jaw and the flat planes of his cheeks catching the grey light. His eyes are dark and entirely without shine, flat matte surfaces carrying no catchlight at all, hooded under a lowered brow; one corner of his mouth is pulled up in a mocking, lopsided sneer, the lip curling over a sliver of teeth while the other side of the mouth stays flat, scorn rather than amusement. His gaze goes past the camera and up into the overcast sky, not at the viewer.
The sky occupies the upper two-thirds of the frame and is the whole environment: layered grey cloud, flat and soft, no sun disc, no blue break, lit by a single diffuse source so the light comes from everywhere and nowhere — gentle, cool and shadowless, with only a soft gradient darkening the clouds near the top edge and the faintest shading under his jaw, under the lifted arms and inside the folds of the cassock. The man is the only thing in the scene; no ground detail beyond the small patch of dark paving beneath his feet, no buildings, no other people. His open arms cut a wide dark silhouette across the pale grey cloud, and the fabric of the cassock is matte wool, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. The upward camera makes his shoulders cut against the sky and lets the cloud press down over him. A stray strand of his hair lifts free and crosses the cloud line, still against the still air. Cold grey palette — cloud grey, cassock black, dark brown, and the bloodless tone of his skin — with nothing warm admitted anywhere. Quiet, contemptuous stillness.
use20030228
u2
1boy, solo, muscular male, moderate muscle mass, dark brown hair, short dark brown hair, dull eyes, lifeless eyes, eyes without shine, matte eyes, sneer, mocking smile, closed mouth, restrained expression, subtle expression, priest, cassock, black cassock, clerical collar, both arms outstretched, arms spread wide, looking up, head tilted back, from below, low angle, dutch angle, upper body, outdoors, overcast sky, open sky, grey clouds, cold palette
The camera sits low beneath him and off to one side, tilted a few degrees off level, so his figure rises diagonally across the frame from hip to raised chin. He stands alone in an open stone courtyard on a grey day, feet planted wider than his shoulders, weight sunk into the left leg while the right hip rolls slightly forward — a stance that is settled rather than triumphant. His black cassock falls in heavy folds from the shoulders; the fabric pulls taut across his chest and upper arms, showing a build that is thick and worked but not swollen — a plain, believable heaviness in the shoulders, upper arms and forearms, with the sleeves snug enough to read the shape of the arm and no more. The clerical collar sits closed and white at his throat. His arms are thrown wide and slightly back, palms open and turned up, elbows softly bent, the cuff of each sleeve slipping down toward the wrist; the drape of the cassock hangs from the raised arms in long vertical creases between them. His head is tipped fully back and his gaze goes up past the top edge of the frame into the sky; the throat is exposed, the jawline drawn sharp by the tilt, the dark brown hair falling away from the brow and lifting a little in a thin wind.
His expression stays small: lips closed, only one corner pulled a fraction higher into a sneer, the brow carrying a single faint crease, cheekbones flat and unanimated. The eyes are the whole of it — a flat dark brown with no catchlight at all, no spark, no wet highlight, matte as slate, so the low angle gives him no gleaming eye to read as fervour. The overcast sky above is a flat sheet of grey-white cloud with no sun disc; it lights him as one broad soft source from above and behind, laying a pale rim along the crown of his head, the tops of his shoulders and the up-facing folds of the sleeves, while his face, the underside of his jaw and the front of the cassock fall into a cooler, denser shadow. Nothing in the courtyard casts a crisp shadow — only soft grey pools directly beneath him. Colour is held to three notes: the saturated black of the cassock, the pale white of the collar, and the dull brown of skin and hair, all sitting against the cold blue-grey of stone and sky. His open palms catch the flattest part of the light and stay empty. Quiet, contemptuous stillness.
use20030228
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