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Ed Ryan

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Ed Ryan

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1boy, solo, sitting, sitting on chest, stone chest, dungeon, dark dungeon, from below, low angle, looking down at viewer, green eyes, red eyes, heterochromia, glowing eye, short hair, black hair, spiky hair, swept up hair, neck tattoo, facial tattoo, tribal tattoo, dark red tattoo, black duster, long coat, tattered coat, worn coat, thick coat, armor, steel armor, white armor, tarnished armor, pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves, holding sword, two swords, black blade, serrated blade, swords between legs, apathetic, blank stare, expressionless, half-closed eyes, parted lips, shadowed face, high contrast, saturated colors, bold color blocking, graphic shadows, sharp silhouette Low-angle shot from below and slightly to the left, so the man on the stone chest looms over the frame and the dungeon ceiling recedes into black behind his shoulders. He is seated squarely on a squat banded stone chest, its iron-banded lid under his weight, boot heels planted on the wet flagstones, knees spread wide apart. Both gauntleted hands hang loose between his thighs, each gripping the hilt of a serrated black blade: the two swords stand point-down, their black saw-toothed edges catching a thin reflected gleam, one leaning against the inside of each knee, the blades crossing slightly in front of the chest lip. The very thick black duster hangs open and heavy past his knees, its hem ragged and furred with fraying threads, and beneath it tarnished white steel armour — dented pauldrons, a scuffed cuirass, mud-grey greaves — shows dull and blotched where the plate has eaten through its coating. His neck is bared to the collar, the dark red tribal tattoo climbing the tendon of his throat and spreading in hooked black-red curves across the left jaw and cheekbone. Short black hair ruffs up at the front in stiff spikes, the back cropped close. His face is slack: lids half lowered, mouth a flat half-open line, one brow fractionally lower than the other, gaze fixed down at the viewer with green irises that hold a single hot flicker of red at their centre, unmoved. The only light is a single torch set out of frame high to his right: it walks warm orange across the right side of his jaw, the right pauldron and the upward faces of the stone chest lid, while the left of his body, the hollows of the dungeon and the corners behind him fall into flat near-black shadow; his cast shadow stretches long across the flagstones toward the lower left, and a wet sheen on the floor doubles the torch's small bright streak. Palette limited to hot orange, cold near-black, blotched bone-white steel, black leather and a single dark blood red in the tattoo — poster flat, hard-edged, saturated, all shadow shaped by a sharp graphic silhouette. Brooding, still.
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Immissione richiesta originale
a man sitting on a stone chest in a dark dungeon. he has green eyes with a flicker of red, short black hair that is spikey at the front and a dark red tribal tattoo going up his neck onto his face. he is weaving a very thick and tattered black duster, over tarnished white steel armour beneath. he has two serrated black blades in between his legs. his expression is apathetic
Modalità
pro
Stile
Neon Vivid
Tag qualità
﹝Prompt﹞
Dimensione
1104 x 1824
Metodo di campionamento
Euler
Negativo
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit
Stile: Neon Vivid
Helper di Prompt

Modello e LoRA utilizzati

Tsubaki.3 - AI Model cover image

PixAI DiT.3

Tsubaki.3
6.69k

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AI artwork
er
1boy, solo, sitting, sitting on chest, stone chest, dungeon, dark dungeon, from below, low angle, looking down at viewer, green eyes, red eyes, heterochromia, glowing eye, short hair, black hair, spiky hair, swept up hair, neck tattoo, facial tattoo, tribal tattoo, dark red tattoo, black duster, long coat, tattered coat, worn coat, thick coat, armor, steel armor, white armor, tarnished armor, pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves, holding sword, two swords, black blade, serrated blade, swords between legs, apathetic, blank stare, expressionless, half-closed eyes, parted lips, shadowed face, high contrast, saturated colors, bold color blocking, graphic shadows, sharp silhouette Low-angle shot from below and slightly to the left, so the man on the stone chest looms over the frame and the dungeon ceiling recedes into black behind his shoulders. He is seated squarely on a squat banded stone chest, its iron-banded lid under his weight, boot heels planted on the wet flagstones, knees spread wide apart. Both gauntleted hands hang loose between his thighs, each gripping the hilt of a serrated black blade: the two swords stand point-down, their black saw-toothed edges catching a thin reflected gleam, one leaning against the inside of each knee, the blades crossing slightly in front of the chest lip. The very thick black duster hangs open and heavy past his knees, its hem ragged and furred with fraying threads, and beneath it tarnished white steel armour — dented pauldrons, a scuffed cuirass, mud-grey greaves — shows dull and blotched where the plate has eaten through its coating. His neck is bared to the collar, the dark red tribal tattoo climbing the tendon of his throat and spreading in hooked black-red curves across the left jaw and cheekbone. Short black hair ruffs up at the front in stiff spikes, the back cropped close. His face is slack: lids half lowered, mouth a flat half-open line, one brow fractionally lower than the other, gaze fixed down at the viewer with green irises that hold a single hot flicker of red at their centre, unmoved. The only light is a single torch set out of frame high to his right: it walks warm orange across the right side of his jaw, the right pauldron and the upward faces of the stone chest lid, while the left of his body, the hollows of the dungeon and the corners behind him fall into flat near-black shadow; his cast shadow stretches long across the flagstones toward the lower left, and a wet sheen on the floor doubles the torch's small bright streak. Palette limited to hot orange, cold near-black, blotched bone-white steel, black leather and a single dark blood red in the tattoo — poster flat, hard-edged, saturated, all shadow shaped by a sharp graphic silhouette. Brooding, still.
Ed Ryan
AI artwork
er
1boy, solo, sitting, sitting on chest, stone chest, dark dungeon, dungeon interior, green eyes, red glint in eyes, short hair, black hair, spiky hair, spiky forelock, dark red tattoo, tribal tattoo, neck tattoo, facial tattoo, thick duster, tattered black duster, open coat, white steel armor, tarnished armor, two serrated black swords, sword between legs, apathetic expression, blank stare, half-closed eyes, from below, low angle, cowboy shot, looking at viewer, dim lighting, torchlight, chiaroscuro, high contrast, sharp linework, bold silhouette The camera sits low and slightly to the man's left, tilted up in a from-below cowboy shot so the stone chest he sits on fills the lower third of the frame and his armored shoulders rise against the dark vault. He is perched on the lid of a squat iron-banded stone chest, one hip higher than the other, right thigh dropped and left knee raised, both boots planted on cracked flagstones that are slick with a thin film of water; his weight rests on the left hip and the chest's front lip presses a hard edge into the back of his left thigh. His left hand rests flat across the chest's corner, fingers loose over the iron band, while his right forearm lies along his right thigh with the wrist slack and the thumb hooked in the duster's torn lapel. The duster hangs open in two heavy, shredded black curtains that drape over the chest edge and pool at his hips, the tattered hem chewed into long ragged tongues that sway in a faint draft; beneath it, the tarnished white steel armor of his cuirass and pauldrons shows through, scuffed dull grey-white with brown flecks of rust gathering in the rivet seams and along the plate edges. His neck and jaw carry a dark red tribal tattoo that sweeps up from beneath the armor collar in sharp hooked strokes, curling across the right side of his throat and flicking onto his cheekbone just under the eye. His short black hair is cropped tight at the sides, with the front spikes jutting forward over the brow. His face is utterly apathetic: lids lowered halfway, mouth a flat closed line with no tension at the corners, brows level and slack, the green of his irises cold and flat in the shadow, except for a small hot flicker of red deep in each pupil that catches the torch glow. His gaze drops straight to the viewer with no warmth whatsoever. The two serrated black swords rest between his legs, their blunt back edges crossed, hilts angled out to either side over the chest and their jagged black blades pointing down toward the flagstones, one of his thighs nudging each hilt so the steel tips touch and hold them steady. The dungeon closes him in: wet rough-cut stone walls at his back with a low barrel-vault overhead, an iron grate and rusted manacles fixed to the far wall, shallow puddles in the floor seams catching a smeared reflection of him, straw scattered in the corners. A single torch in a wall bracket at the upper left is the only light source; it rakes across his right pauldron and the bridge of his nose, leaves the left side of his face and the interior of his duster in deep near-black, throws his long shadow up and backward across the wall behind him, and lets the water at his boots hold a broken amber gleam, darker and softer than the flame itself. The palette is iron grey, wet black, and a narrow band of amber torchlight, with the tattoo and the eye-flicker in dark red as the only saturated notes. Sharp ink-like linework, hard cel edges, bold silhouette, deep crushed blacks against the amber pool. Quiet, cold menace.
Ed Ryan
#Jujutsu Kaisen
AI artwork
er
1boy, solo, sitting, sitting on chest, stone chest, dark dungeon, dungeon interior, green eyes, red glint in eyes, short hair, black hair, spiky hair, spiky forelock, dark red tattoo, tribal tattoo, neck tattoo, facial tattoo, thick duster, tattered black duster, open coat, white steel armor, tarnished armor, two serrated black swords, sword between legs, apathetic expression, blank stare, half-closed eyes, from below, low angle, cowboy shot, looking at viewer, dim lighting, torchlight, chiaroscuro, high contrast, sharp linework, bold silhouette The camera sits low and slightly to the man's left, tilted up in a from-below cowboy shot so the stone chest he sits on fills the lower third of the frame and his armored shoulders rise against the dark vault. He is perched on the lid of a squat iron-banded stone chest, one hip higher than the other, right thigh dropped and left knee raised, both boots planted on cracked flagstones that are slick with a thin film of water; his weight rests on the left hip and the chest's front lip presses a hard edge into the back of his left thigh. His left hand rests flat across the chest's corner, fingers loose over the iron band, while his right forearm lies along his right thigh with the wrist slack and the thumb hooked in the duster's torn lapel. The duster hangs open in two heavy, shredded black curtains that drape over the chest edge and pool at his hips, the tattered hem chewed into long ragged tongues that sway in a faint draft; beneath it, the tarnished white steel armor of his cuirass and pauldrons shows through, scuffed dull grey-white with brown flecks of rust gathering in the rivet seams and along the plate edges. His neck and jaw carry a dark red tribal tattoo that sweeps up from beneath the armor collar in sharp hooked strokes, curling across the right side of his throat and flicking onto his cheekbone just under the eye. His short black hair is cropped tight at the sides, with the front spikes jutting forward over the brow. His face is utterly apathetic: lids lowered halfway, mouth a flat closed line with no tension at the corners, brows level and slack, the green of his irises cold and flat in the shadow, except for a small hot flicker of red deep in each pupil that catches the torch glow. His gaze drops straight to the viewer with no warmth whatsoever. The two serrated black swords rest between his legs, their blunt back edges crossed, hilts angled out to either side over the chest and their jagged black blades pointing down toward the flagstones, one of his thighs nudging each hilt so the steel tips touch and hold them steady. The dungeon closes him in: wet rough-cut stone walls at his back with a low barrel-vault overhead, an iron grate and rusted manacles fixed to the far wall, shallow puddles in the floor seams catching a smeared reflection of him, straw scattered in the corners. A single torch in a wall bracket at the upper left is the only light source; it rakes across his right pauldron and the bridge of his nose, leaves the left side of his face and the interior of his duster in deep near-black, throws his long shadow up and backward across the wall behind him, and lets the water at his boots hold a broken amber gleam, darker and softer than the flame itself. The palette is iron grey, wet black, and a narrow band of amber torchlight, with the tattoo and the eye-flicker in dark red as the only saturated notes. Sharp ink-like linework, hard cel edges, bold silhouette, deep crushed blacks against the amber pool. Quiet, cold menace.
Ed Ryan
AI artwork
er
1boy, solo, sitting, sitting on chest, stone chest, dark dungeon, dungeon interior, green eyes, red glint in eyes, short hair, black hair, spiky hair, spiky forelock, dark red tattoo, tribal tattoo, neck tattoo, facial tattoo, thick duster, tattered black duster, open coat, white steel armor, tarnished armor, two serrated black swords, sword between legs, apathetic expression, blank stare, half-closed eyes, from below, low angle, cowboy shot, looking at viewer, dim lighting, torchlight, chiaroscuro, high contrast, sharp linework, bold silhouette The camera sits low and slightly to the man's left, tilted up in a from-below cowboy shot so the stone chest he sits on fills the lower third of the frame and his armored shoulders rise against the dark vault. He is perched on the lid of a squat iron-banded stone chest, one hip higher than the other, right thigh dropped and left knee raised, both boots planted on cracked flagstones that are slick with a thin film of water; his weight rests on the left hip and the chest's front lip presses a hard edge into the back of his left thigh. His left hand rests flat across the chest's corner, fingers loose over the iron band, while his right forearm lies along his right thigh with the wrist slack and the thumb hooked in the duster's torn lapel. The duster hangs open in two heavy, shredded black curtains that drape over the chest edge and pool at his hips, the tattered hem chewed into long ragged tongues that sway in a faint draft; beneath it, the tarnished white steel armor of his cuirass and pauldrons shows through, scuffed dull grey-white with brown flecks of rust gathering in the rivet seams and along the plate edges. His neck and jaw carry a dark red tribal tattoo that sweeps up from beneath the armor collar in sharp hooked strokes, curling across the right side of his throat and flicking onto his cheekbone just under the eye. His short black hair is cropped tight at the sides, with the front spikes jutting forward over the brow. His face is utterly apathetic: lids lowered halfway, mouth a flat closed line with no tension at the corners, brows level and slack, the green of his irises cold and flat in the shadow, except for a small hot flicker of red deep in each pupil that catches the torch glow. His gaze drops straight to the viewer with no warmth whatsoever. The two serrated black swords rest between his legs, their blunt back edges crossed, hilts angled out to either side over the chest and their jagged black blades pointing down toward the flagstones, one of his thighs nudging each hilt so the steel tips touch and hold them steady. The dungeon closes him in: wet rough-cut stone walls at his back with a low barrel-vault overhead, an iron grate and rusted manacles fixed to the far wall, shallow puddles in the floor seams catching a smeared reflection of him, straw scattered in the corners. A single torch in a wall bracket at the upper left is the only light source; it rakes across his right pauldron and the bridge of his nose, leaves the left side of his face and the interior of his duster in deep near-black, throws his long shadow up and backward across the wall behind him, and lets the water at his boots hold a broken amber gleam, darker and softer than the flame itself. The palette is iron grey, wet black, and a narrow band of amber torchlight, with the tattoo and the eye-flicker in dark red as the only saturated notes. Sharp ink-like linework, hard cel edges, bold silhouette, deep crushed blacks against the amber pool. Quiet, cold menace.
Ed Ryan

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