Nov 3, 2026

サーバーメンテナンス完了のお知らせ — サーバーメンテナンスが完了し、SDXLタスクおよびTsubaki.1タスクの生成速度は通常どおりに戻りました。メンテナンス中に溜まったタスクは、順次処理してまいります。一部のタスクは完了までもう少しお時間がかかる場合がございますので、今し…

AI art "A good day on halloween for Flare" featuring #zetaCollab

無料で生成

A good day on halloween for Flare

参加作品

PixAI × zeta オリキャラコンテスト2026 #zetaCollab

投稿日は Nov 3, 2026

Son Flare

さらに表示

1boy, solo, full body shot, 16-year-old boy, brown hair, straight hair, brown eyes, straw hat, red hatband, ripped cloak, black cloak, zip-up cloak, grey tank top, black v-neck, black X on shirt, blue belt, metal belt end, ripped pants, black pants, baggy pants, cropped pants, calf-length pants, white gloves, skull mask, mask over left eye, round glasses, white socks, cuffed socks, red shoes, white strap shoes, gold buckle shoes, sitting, on couch, drinking, mountain dew, holding can, soda can, can to lips, looking at viewer, from below, dutch angle, one knee up, head tilted back, couch cushions, living room, daytime, window light, palette of grey black straw-gold red and electric yellow-green The camera sits low and canted a few degrees off level, looking up at a sixteen-year-old boy from the foot of the couch. He is sprawled rather than perched: hips sunk deep into the near cushion, torso slumped back against the seat back, right leg folded up with that knee raised and the left leg dropped so that the left shoe rests flat on the floor, sole down, and the right shoe hangs off the cushion's edge with its heel hooked over it. His brown straight hair falls forward in flat strands across his brow, escaping under the straw hat whose red band runs around the crown in a continuous ribbon; the hat is tipped back so the brim's underside shades the top of his face without hiding it. The round glasses sit over the bridge of his nose, their wire frames catching a thin bright arc along the top rims. The small skull mask covers the left eye completely — its pale bone-white shell laid flat across the socket, its edge resting on the cheekbone, the right eye left bare and brown behind its lens. Over a grey tank top whose black V-neck cuts down to the sternum and whose black X is printed large and centered across the chest, the ripped black zip-up cloak is worn open, its torn hem fraying into loose threads that lie across the cushion and one long rip running from the left shoulder seam down past the ribs; the collar has collapsed away from the neck. The blue belt crosses his waist with its metal end hanging slack through the buckle loop and swinging forward off his hip, catching a glint. His ripped black baggy pants gather in folds and are torn out at the mid-calf, so the cuffed white socks show above the shoe collars, the cuffs doubled and snug. White gloves cover both hands: the right wraps around a cold can of Mountain Dew, whose surface is beaded with condensation, and tips it to his mouth; the left rests splayed on the couch cushion beside his hip, fingers indented into the fabric, thumb over the seam of the cushion. His chin is lifted, lips sealed on the can's rim, a slow swallow drawing the line of his throat taut; his bare brown right eye is angled down toward the viewer over the rim of the glasses and past the raised can, brow slightly raised, one corner of the mouth compressed against the metal. The drink is mid-tip rather than finished, and a single droplet has run down the can and hangs at its bottom edge, and a dark ring is already soaked into the cushion beneath the can where condensation has dripped, an evidence of how long he has been sitting there. The couch is a worn mid-grey three-seat sofa, its fabric napped and slightly shiny at the arms, one arm behind his right shoulder and the other cropped out at the right of frame. The room behind him is closed and quiet: a plain wall with a faint warm cast, a curtained window high at the left edge of frame, and beyond that nothing legible. Daylight enters from that window as the only source, cool and directional, striking the left side of his face and the hat's left brim, laying a bright edge on the can and the glasses' left rim, and dropping the right side of his body and the gap under his raised knee into soft, cool shadow; the shadow of the hat brim lies across his cheeks and the top of the mask. The palette holds to straw-gold and red on the hat, black and charcoal in cloak, pants and X, cool grey in the tank and couch, bone-white in mask, gloves and socks, with the cane's electric yellow-green as the single note of chroma. Palette and light both kept plain and legible. Lazy, sunlit, and a little pleased with itself.

A good day on halloween for Flare

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