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C9I

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C9I

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1boy, solo, adult male, gaunt, tall thin harrowed figure, hollow cheeks, long matted wind-torn dark hair, weathered skin, tattered dark tartan kilt, frayed hem, heavy black cloak, cloak whipping sideways in the gale, rusted bagpipes, corroded metal ferrules, three drone pipes over the shoulder, blowpipe at his lips, both hands on the chanter and bag, fingers pressed on the chanter holes, standing on the edge of a jagged cliff, windblown, rain, rain whipping around him, violent storm, from below, wide shot, dutch angle, ocean below, crashing waves against rocks, sea spray, ravens, many ravens, flock of birds circling overhead, black and gray sky, churning stormclouds, scotland, highland, mist, bare rock, chiaroscuro, desaturated blacks, cold misty grays, monochrome palette, film grain, hyperdetailed, melancholic, epic tragedy, atmospheric black metal aesthetic The camera looks up from below the cliff lip at a steep dutch angle, so the crag's black face rises diagonally out of frame and the figure stands on its very edge as a small, gaunt silhouette against a vast churning sky. His thin frame occupies only a fraction of the frame, off-center to the right third, the storm's negative space dominating the left. His feet are planted wide apart, the near heel dug into wet grit at the ledge, toes on the crumbling stone, the kilt's frayed hem snapping violently to one side; one hand grips the bag against his ribs with the chanter fingers pressed flat on the holes, the other hand working the chanter, his chest drawn in with effort, the blowpipe pressed to his lips and the veins visible at his temple as he blows. His head tips slightly down and out toward the ocean, jaw tight, eyes squeezed half-shut against the rain, hollow cheek catching a cold rim of light. Behind his shoulder the three corroded drone pipes point into the wind. The heavy black cloak is torn at the shoulders and bellies out from his back toward the empty sky, its edges lost in the mist. Below the cliff edge the dark ocean heaves; a giant wave breaks on the rocks in the deep background, its crest exploding into spray that hangs in the air as a pale smear. Dozens of ravens wheel in a ragged spiral above him, their wings as black, flat shapes torn across the cloud mass, most of them rendered as silhouettes against the gray, three or four nearer birds catching light along their wing edges. The sky is a deep, churning mass of black and gray, lit from one low break in the distant west; that single cold shaft falls from the upper left, striking the wet crag face, the top of his shoulder, the bagpipe's metal fittings, and the leading edge of the breakers, leaving his underside and the gorge behind him in solid shadow. Rain is visible as thousands of thin white streaks slashing diagonally across the frame, densest in the lit band. Everything is desaturated: black, cold misty gray, a trace of cold blue-green in the spray and a faint, nearly colorless tartan in the soaked kilt, heavily dappled by fine film grain. The fog swallows the far headlands. Dark, monumental, inconsolable.
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Immissione richiesta originale
Melancholic dark art illustration of a lone, gaunt figure standing on the edge of a jagged cliff in the Scottish Highlands during a violent storm. He is wearing a tattered kilt and a heavy black cloak, playing a rusted set of bagpipes as the rain whips around him. The sky is a deep, churning black and gray. Dozens of ravens are circling above him, and a massive, dark ocean crashes against the rocks below. A farewell to a dead world, epic tragedy, atmospheric black metal, hyperdetailed, chiaroscuro, desaturated blacks, cold misty grays, cinematic wide shot, film grain, by Gustave Doré, masterpiece, 8K --ar 2:3 --v 6
Modalità
pro
Dimensione
992 x 992
Metodo di campionamento
Euler
Negativo
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit
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Modello e LoRA utilizzati

Tsubaki.3 - AI Model cover image

PixAI DiT.3

Tsubaki.3
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AI artwork
Avatar image of C9I
1boy, solo, adult male, gaunt, tall thin harrowed figure, hollow cheeks, long matted wind-torn dark hair, weathered skin, tattered dark tartan kilt, frayed hem, heavy black cloak, cloak whipping sideways in the gale, rusted bagpipes, corroded metal ferrules, three drone pipes over the shoulder, blowpipe at his lips, both hands on the chanter and bag, fingers pressed on the chanter holes, standing on the edge of a jagged cliff, windblown, rain, rain whipping around him, violent storm, from below, wide shot, dutch angle, ocean below, crashing waves against rocks, sea spray, ravens, many ravens, flock of birds circling overhead, black and gray sky, churning stormclouds, scotland, highland, mist, bare rock, chiaroscuro, desaturated blacks, cold misty grays, monochrome palette, film grain, hyperdetailed, melancholic, epic tragedy, atmospheric black metal aesthetic The camera looks up from below the cliff lip at a steep dutch angle, so the crag's black face rises diagonally out of frame and the figure stands on its very edge as a small, gaunt silhouette against a vast churning sky. His thin frame occupies only a fraction of the frame, off-center to the right third, the storm's negative space dominating the left. His feet are planted wide apart, the near heel dug into wet grit at the ledge, toes on the crumbling stone, the kilt's frayed hem snapping violently to one side; one hand grips the bag against his ribs with the chanter fingers pressed flat on the holes, the other hand working the chanter, his chest drawn in with effort, the blowpipe pressed to his lips and the veins visible at his temple as he blows. His head tips slightly down and out toward the ocean, jaw tight, eyes squeezed half-shut against the rain, hollow cheek catching a cold rim of light. Behind his shoulder the three corroded drone pipes point into the wind. The heavy black cloak is torn at the shoulders and bellies out from his back toward the empty sky, its edges lost in the mist. Below the cliff edge the dark ocean heaves; a giant wave breaks on the rocks in the deep background, its crest exploding into spray that hangs in the air as a pale smear. Dozens of ravens wheel in a ragged spiral above him, their wings as black, flat shapes torn across the cloud mass, most of them rendered as silhouettes against the gray, three or four nearer birds catching light along their wing edges. The sky is a deep, churning mass of black and gray, lit from one low break in the distant west; that single cold shaft falls from the upper left, striking the wet crag face, the top of his shoulder, the bagpipe's metal fittings, and the leading edge of the breakers, leaving his underside and the gorge behind him in solid shadow. Rain is visible as thousands of thin white streaks slashing diagonally across the frame, densest in the lit band. Everything is desaturated: black, cold misty gray, a trace of cold blue-green in the spray and a faint, nearly colorless tartan in the soaked kilt, heavily dappled by fine film grain. The fog swallows the far headlands. Dark, monumental, inconsolable.
C9I
AI artwork
Avatar image of C9I
1boy, solo, adult male, gaunt, tall thin harrowed figure, hollow cheeks, long matted wind-torn dark hair, weathered skin, tattered dark tartan kilt, frayed hem, heavy black cloak, cloak whipping sideways in the gale, rusted bagpipes, corroded metal ferrules, three drone pipes over the shoulder, blowpipe at his lips, both hands on the chanter and bag, fingers pressed on the chanter holes, standing on the edge of a jagged cliff, windblown, rain, rain whipping around him, violent storm, from below, wide shot, dutch angle, ocean below, crashing waves against rocks, sea spray, ravens, many ravens, flock of birds circling overhead, black and gray sky, churning stormclouds, scotland, highland, mist, bare rock, chiaroscuro, desaturated blacks, cold misty grays, monochrome palette, film grain, hyperdetailed, melancholic, epic tragedy, atmospheric black metal aesthetic The camera looks up from below the cliff lip at a steep dutch angle, so the crag's black face rises diagonally out of frame and the figure stands on its very edge as a small, gaunt silhouette against a vast churning sky. His thin frame occupies only a fraction of the frame, off-center to the right third, the storm's negative space dominating the left. His feet are planted wide apart, the near heel dug into wet grit at the ledge, toes on the crumbling stone, the kilt's frayed hem snapping violently to one side; one hand grips the bag against his ribs with the chanter fingers pressed flat on the holes, the other hand working the chanter, his chest drawn in with effort, the blowpipe pressed to his lips and the veins visible at his temple as he blows. His head tips slightly down and out toward the ocean, jaw tight, eyes squeezed half-shut against the rain, hollow cheek catching a cold rim of light. Behind his shoulder the three corroded drone pipes point into the wind. The heavy black cloak is torn at the shoulders and bellies out from his back toward the empty sky, its edges lost in the mist. Below the cliff edge the dark ocean heaves; a giant wave breaks on the rocks in the deep background, its crest exploding into spray that hangs in the air as a pale smear. Dozens of ravens wheel in a ragged spiral above him, their wings as black, flat shapes torn across the cloud mass, most of them rendered as silhouettes against the gray, three or four nearer birds catching light along their wing edges. The sky is a deep, churning mass of black and gray, lit from one low break in the distant west; that single cold shaft falls from the upper left, striking the wet crag face, the top of his shoulder, the bagpipe's metal fittings, and the leading edge of the breakers, leaving his underside and the gorge behind him in solid shadow. Rain is visible as thousands of thin white streaks slashing diagonally across the frame, densest in the lit band. Everything is desaturated: black, cold misty gray, a trace of cold blue-green in the spray and a faint, nearly colorless tartan in the soaked kilt, heavily dappled by fine film grain. The fog swallows the far headlands. Dark, monumental, inconsolable.
C9I
AI artwork
Avatar image of C9I
1boy, solo, adult male, gaunt, tall thin harrowed figure, hollow cheeks, long matted wind-torn dark hair, weathered skin, tattered dark tartan kilt, frayed hem, heavy black cloak, cloak whipping sideways in the gale, rusted bagpipes, corroded metal ferrules, three drone pipes over the shoulder, blowpipe at his lips, both hands on the chanter and bag, fingers pressed on the chanter holes, standing on the edge of a jagged cliff, windblown, rain, rain whipping around him, violent storm, from below, wide shot, dutch angle, ocean below, crashing waves against rocks, sea spray, ravens, many ravens, flock of birds circling overhead, black and gray sky, churning stormclouds, scotland, highland, mist, bare rock, chiaroscuro, desaturated blacks, cold misty grays, monochrome palette, film grain, hyperdetailed, melancholic, epic tragedy, atmospheric black metal aesthetic The camera looks up from below the cliff lip at a steep dutch angle, so the crag's black face rises diagonally out of frame and the figure stands on its very edge as a small, gaunt silhouette against a vast churning sky. His thin frame occupies only a fraction of the frame, off-center to the right third, the storm's negative space dominating the left. His feet are planted wide apart, the near heel dug into wet grit at the ledge, toes on the crumbling stone, the kilt's frayed hem snapping violently to one side; one hand grips the bag against his ribs with the chanter fingers pressed flat on the holes, the other hand working the chanter, his chest drawn in with effort, the blowpipe pressed to his lips and the veins visible at his temple as he blows. His head tips slightly down and out toward the ocean, jaw tight, eyes squeezed half-shut against the rain, hollow cheek catching a cold rim of light. Behind his shoulder the three corroded drone pipes point into the wind. The heavy black cloak is torn at the shoulders and bellies out from his back toward the empty sky, its edges lost in the mist. Below the cliff edge the dark ocean heaves; a giant wave breaks on the rocks in the deep background, its crest exploding into spray that hangs in the air as a pale smear. Dozens of ravens wheel in a ragged spiral above him, their wings as black, flat shapes torn across the cloud mass, most of them rendered as silhouettes against the gray, three or four nearer birds catching light along their wing edges. The sky is a deep, churning mass of black and gray, lit from one low break in the distant west; that single cold shaft falls from the upper left, striking the wet crag face, the top of his shoulder, the bagpipe's metal fittings, and the leading edge of the breakers, leaving his underside and the gorge behind him in solid shadow. Rain is visible as thousands of thin white streaks slashing diagonally across the frame, densest in the lit band. Everything is desaturated: black, cold misty gray, a trace of cold blue-green in the spray and a faint, nearly colorless tartan in the soaked kilt, heavily dappled by fine film grain. The fog swallows the far headlands. Dark, monumental, inconsolable.
C9I
AI artwork
Avatar image of C9I
1girl, solo, ancient celtic warrior queen, dark fantasy illustration, standing, barren fog-choked moor, rusted chainmail, blue woad war paint, torn black cloak, pale face, rusted iron crown, crown partially obscuring face, hollow void eyes, black tears, crying, massive raven, raven perched on shoulder, raven screaming, open beak, storm, dead heather, shattered swords, heavy bruised sky, dark storm clouds, melancholic, epic, rage, defeat, atmospheric black metal, hyperdetailed, chiaroscuro, desaturated blacks, cold blues, blood-red accents, cinematic low-angle shot, from below, film grain, wide shot, wind, billowing cloak, looking up, parted lips, clenched jaw, gauntlets, sword planted in ground, fog, volumetric light, dramatic shadow, masterpiece, 8k, tall aspect ratio Cinematic low-angle shot from below, the camera near the wet ground so the queen towers against a bruised, churning sky that fills the upper two-thirds of the frame. She stands full-length on a barren fog-choked moor, feet planted wide apart on sodden black peat, her weight on the left leg, hips canted, torso turned a quarter away and her chin lifted toward the storm. The rusted chainmail hangs heavy and pitted over her shoulders and arms, every ring eaten with ochre corrosion, a chainmail coif bunched at her throat; over it the torn black cloak bellies out sideways in the wind, its ragged hem whipping past her knee and one torn corner streaming out of frame to the left. Blue woad war paint streaks her pale face in harsh bands across brow and cheek and down her throat, the woad drying into the cracks of her skin. A rusted iron crown, spiked and eaten thin at the points, sits low and tilted, its front band cutting across her brow and casting a hard shadow over the upper half of her face; below it her eyes are hollow voids, absolute black wells with no iris or highlight, and from each a single line of black tear runs down her cheek and drips from her jaw. Her lips are parted and her jaw is clenched, brows drawn down, the whole face locked between grief and fury. Her right hand is gloved in corroded mail and closed around the hilt of a shattered sword whose broken blade is driven into the ground beside her boot; her left arm hangs with the fingers curled loosely. On her right shoulder a massive raven grips the chainmail with splayed talons, its body pitched forward, wings half-lifted and ragged, beak wide open and throat feathers bristling as it screams into the storm, its head thrown up and its one visible eye catching the cold light. Around her feet the moor is a mass of dead heather, brittle grey-brown twigs flattened by wind, and further out in the midground shattered swords stand and lie at angles in the peat, their blades snapped, hilts skewed, one broken crossguard half-swallowed by moss. Low fog banks drift between the sword stumps, hiding the ground a few metres behind her, and the sky above is a heavy bruised mass of storm cloud, purple-black at the horizon breaking into torn grey-blue sheets overhead. The single light source is a cold blue break in the clouds high and behind her right shoulder, rimming one edge of the crown, the raven's lifted wings, the chainmail's shoulder links and the ragged edge of the cloak in icy silver, while her front falls into deep chiaroscuro shadow; the light throws her long shadow forward across the heather toward the camera, and every upward-facing surface -- crown points, chainmail rings on the shoulders, the raven's back, the flats of the broken blades -- catches that cold rim while the undersides stay black. Thin fog curls visibly around the standing sword stumps where the wind eddies, and a few strands of her dark hair are torn loose across the woad-painted cheek. Palette is desaturated black, cold slate blue and storm grey, with a single subtle blood-red accent: a shallow red glint along the crown's inner band and a red stain at the cloak's torn edge. Heavy film grain over the whole frame, hyperdetailed metal, leather and feather texture, epic and melancholic, defeat and rage.
C9I
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character: kaname_madoka_(magical_girl), copyright: mahou_shoujo_madoka_magica Kaname Madoka from Puella Magi Madoka Magica, pink twin tails tied with deep red ribbons, wearing her iconic magical girl costume, white corset-like bodice with delicate back lacing, voluminous layered white and pale pink ruffled skirt, crimson ribbons flowing loosely around her body, viewed from behind at a three-quarter angle, seated with her back gracefully arched, both arms extending naturally downward behind her back, one hand gently holding the opposite wrist, clearly separated hands, relaxed slender fingers, five distinct fingers on each hand, natural finger spacing, anatomically correct wrists, elegant delicate hands, visible knuckles, softly curved fingers, hands clearly visible against the white skirt, unobstructed hand silhouette, accurate hand anatomy, head tilted far backward, chin raised toward the darkness, face mostly hidden, elegant elongated silhouette, delicate exposed shoulders, soft loose strands of pink hair, dramatic asymmetrical composition, close medium shot, large skirt filling the lower frame, dark almost black background, dramatic directional lighting, pale ivory highlights, muted dusty pink, cold gray shadows, rich crimson accents, strong contrast between luminous fabric and deep darkness, thick impasto oil painting, expressive visible brushstrokes, heavy layered paint, rough palette knife texture, sculptural paint strokes, painterly edges, textured canvas, loose gestural painting, rich tactile surface, dramatic chiaroscuro, melancholic atmosphere, haunting beauty, full bleed composition, edge-to-edge artwork, no borders, no frame, textured illustration, grainy texture, crayon texture, chalky brushwork, impasto strokes, bold color blocking, stylized anime, flat shading, dry brush effect, atmospheric lighting, soft glow highlights, rough painterly anime style, visible textured brushstrokes, heavy impasto texture, scratchy charcoal-like linework, expressive gestural strokes, smudged edges, desaturated base tones with aggressive high-contrast color, sketch style, rough brushstroke
リオ
2#Puella Magi Madoka Magica#Madoka Kaname#Puella Magi Madoka Magica
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