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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…

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Ryo Shiratake

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Ryo Shiratake

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copyright: robocop 2girls, 1boy, robocop, cyborg woman, robocop armor, robocop helmet, visor, well-defined jawline, glossy lips, unbelievably slim waist, huge breasts, mouth slightly open, expressionless, restrained, bound arms, captured, enemy, tall bishounen, androgynous, handsome, very young man, long black hair, hair over one eye, seductive, glossy black rider jacket, glossy black leather pants, alley, back street, from side, dutch angle, cowboy shot, night, rim light, wet asphalt The camera sits low and off-axis in a narrow back alley, tilted a few degrees so the brick walls converge: the robocop woman fills the left two-thirds, held from behind and slightly to her right by the young man, who is taller and stands close so his chest is at her shoulder blade. He has hooked his left forearm across her upper arms and pinioned them behind her back at the small of her waist — her gauntleted hands are locked palm-to-palm against her own spine, wrists pressed together under his grip, and his right hand closes on her opposite shoulder, fingertips denting the armor's shoulder plate. Her weight has shifted onto her back foot, one hip cocked, her breastplate pushed forward by the arm bar so the huge curve of her chest strains the armor's chest plate, the impossibly narrow waist cinched between the plate segments above and the hip guard below. His cheek almost touches her helmet; his chin is tipped down toward her, and the one eye not buried under the long black bangs that sweep across his face is fixed on the edge of her jaw — a cool, appraising half-lidded look, the corner of his mouth curled. She stares straight forward past the frame, nothing readable in her face, lower lip parted a few millimetres, a wet highlight sliding along the gloss of her lips; the visor throws a flat band of reflected alley light over the top half of her face and puts her eyes in shadow, so the unreadable expression comes from occlusion, not a blank stare. His glossy black rider jacket creases and throws a hard specular streak down his raised left arm, and his glossy leather pants catch a second sheen at the knee where he braces; her armor keeps a duller, scuffed metallic sheen, scratched and rain-flecked. The alley is medium-narrow — wet asphalt running back between two brick walls, a fire-escape ladder overhead, a row of closed shutters and a humming vending machine glowing at the far end, one dim caged bulb above a service door on the left and a single cold streetlamp spilling over the wall at the upper right. The bulb is the near source: it carves the woman's helmet crown, jawline and breastplate from the left and drops her far side into black; the streetlamp rims the young man's black hair and the top edge of his shoulder from behind and above, so his bangs throw a sharp shadow across the hidden half of his face. Beyond those two pools the alley falls into wet dark, and the puddles on the asphalt repeat both sources as stretched, broken vertical streaks — reflections darker and softer than the lights themselves. Palette: cold blue-grey shadow, sodium amber near light, black leather, gunmetal armor, the red glint of the vending machine as the only warm accent. Rain has stopped; the ground still black and mirror-wet. Tense, vice-like.
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オリジナルプロンプト
路地裏、美女ロボコップ（顎の輪郭は整っている。光沢のある唇を持つ。ウエストが信じられないほど細い、信じられないほど巨大な胸を持つ、ロボコップアーマーとヘルメットとバイザーがある。表情は不明。）が敵キャラクター（美しい黒髪、片目が隠れる程長い前髪に若く色っぽい、カッコいい光沢があるライダージャケットを着て、光沢があるレザーパンツを履いている大変若く美しい中性的な18歳美少年長身美形に拘束される巨大な胸を持つ美女ロボコップ。口を少し開ける。
モード
flash
縦横比
944 x 1584
プロンプト自動変換

利用したモデルとLoRA

Tsubaki.3 Flash - AI Modelのカバー画像

PixAI DiT.3

Tsubaki.3 Flash
1.83k

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AI artwork
Avatar image of Ryo Shiratake
copyright: robocop 2girls, 1boy, robocop, cyborg woman, robocop armor, robocop helmet, visor, well-defined jawline, glossy lips, unbelievably slim waist, huge breasts, mouth slightly open, expressionless, restrained, bound arms, captured, enemy, tall bishounen, androgynous, handsome, very young man, long black hair, hair over one eye, seductive, glossy black rider jacket, glossy black leather pants, alley, back street, from side, dutch angle, cowboy shot, night, rim light, wet asphalt The camera sits low and off-axis in a narrow back alley, tilted a few degrees so the brick walls converge: the robocop woman fills the left two-thirds, held from behind and slightly to her right by the young man, who is taller and stands close so his chest is at her shoulder blade. He has hooked his left forearm across her upper arms and pinioned them behind her back at the small of her waist — her gauntleted hands are locked palm-to-palm against her own spine, wrists pressed together under his grip, and his right hand closes on her opposite shoulder, fingertips denting the armor's shoulder plate. Her weight has shifted onto her back foot, one hip cocked, her breastplate pushed forward by the arm bar so the huge curve of her chest strains the armor's chest plate, the impossibly narrow waist cinched between the plate segments above and the hip guard below. His cheek almost touches her helmet; his chin is tipped down toward her, and the one eye not buried under the long black bangs that sweep across his face is fixed on the edge of her jaw — a cool, appraising half-lidded look, the corner of his mouth curled. She stares straight forward past the frame, nothing readable in her face, lower lip parted a few millimetres, a wet highlight sliding along the gloss of her lips; the visor throws a flat band of reflected alley light over the top half of her face and puts her eyes in shadow, so the unreadable expression comes from occlusion, not a blank stare. His glossy black rider jacket creases and throws a hard specular streak down his raised left arm, and his glossy leather pants catch a second sheen at the knee where he braces; her armor keeps a duller, scuffed metallic sheen, scratched and rain-flecked. The alley is medium-narrow — wet asphalt running back between two brick walls, a fire-escape ladder overhead, a row of closed shutters and a humming vending machine glowing at the far end, one dim caged bulb above a service door on the left and a single cold streetlamp spilling over the wall at the upper right. The bulb is the near source: it carves the woman's helmet crown, jawline and breastplate from the left and drops her far side into black; the streetlamp rims the young man's black hair and the top edge of his shoulder from behind and above, so his bangs throw a sharp shadow across the hidden half of his face. Beyond those two pools the alley falls into wet dark, and the puddles on the asphalt repeat both sources as stretched, broken vertical streaks — reflections darker and softer than the lights themselves. Palette: cold blue-grey shadow, sodium amber near light, black leather, gunmetal armor, the red glint of the vending machine as the only warm accent. Rain has stopped; the ground still black and mirror-wet. Tense, vice-like.
Ryo Shiratake
AI artwork
Avatar image of Ryo Shiratake
copyright: robocop 2girls, 1boy, robocop, cyborg woman, robocop armor, robocop helmet, visor, well-defined jawline, glossy lips, unbelievably slim waist, huge breasts, mouth slightly open, expressionless, restrained, bound arms, captured, enemy, tall bishounen, androgynous, handsome, very young man, long black hair, hair over one eye, seductive, glossy black rider jacket, glossy black leather pants, alley, back street, from side, dutch angle, cowboy shot, night, rim light, wet asphalt The camera sits low and off-axis in a narrow back alley, tilted a few degrees so the brick walls converge: the robocop woman fills the left two-thirds, held from behind and slightly to her right by the young man, who is taller and stands close so his chest is at her shoulder blade. He has hooked his left forearm across her upper arms and pinioned them behind her back at the small of her waist — her gauntleted hands are locked palm-to-palm against her own spine, wrists pressed together under his grip, and his right hand closes on her opposite shoulder, fingertips denting the armor's shoulder plate. Her weight has shifted onto her back foot, one hip cocked, her breastplate pushed forward by the arm bar so the huge curve of her chest strains the armor's chest plate, the impossibly narrow waist cinched between the plate segments above and the hip guard below. His cheek almost touches her helmet; his chin is tipped down toward her, and the one eye not buried under the long black bangs that sweep across his face is fixed on the edge of her jaw — a cool, appraising half-lidded look, the corner of his mouth curled. She stares straight forward past the frame, nothing readable in her face, lower lip parted a few millimetres, a wet highlight sliding along the gloss of her lips; the visor throws a flat band of reflected alley light over the top half of her face and puts her eyes in shadow, so the unreadable expression comes from occlusion, not a blank stare. His glossy black rider jacket creases and throws a hard specular streak down his raised left arm, and his glossy leather pants catch a second sheen at the knee where he braces; her armor keeps a duller, scuffed metallic sheen, scratched and rain-flecked. The alley is medium-narrow — wet asphalt running back between two brick walls, a fire-escape ladder overhead, a row of closed shutters and a humming vending machine glowing at the far end, one dim caged bulb above a service door on the left and a single cold streetlamp spilling over the wall at the upper right. The bulb is the near source: it carves the woman's helmet crown, jawline and breastplate from the left and drops her far side into black; the streetlamp rims the young man's black hair and the top edge of his shoulder from behind and above, so his bangs throw a sharp shadow across the hidden half of his face. Beyond those two pools the alley falls into wet dark, and the puddles on the asphalt repeat both sources as stretched, broken vertical streaks — reflections darker and softer than the lights themselves. Palette: cold blue-grey shadow, sodium amber near light, black leather, gunmetal armor, the red glint of the vending machine as the only warm accent. Rain has stopped; the ground still black and mirror-wet. Tense, vice-like.
Ryo Shiratake
AI artwork
Avatar image of Ryo Shiratake
copyright: robocop 2girls, 1boy, robocop, cyborg woman, robocop armor, robocop helmet, visor, well-defined jawline, glossy lips, unbelievably slim waist, huge breasts, mouth slightly open, expressionless, restrained, bound arms, captured, enemy, tall bishounen, androgynous, handsome, very young man, long black hair, hair over one eye, seductive, glossy black rider jacket, glossy black leather pants, alley, back street, from side, dutch angle, cowboy shot, night, rim light, wet asphalt The camera sits low and off-axis in a narrow back alley, tilted a few degrees so the brick walls converge: the robocop woman fills the left two-thirds, held from behind and slightly to her right by the young man, who is taller and stands close so his chest is at her shoulder blade. He has hooked his left forearm across her upper arms and pinioned them behind her back at the small of her waist — her gauntleted hands are locked palm-to-palm against her own spine, wrists pressed together under his grip, and his right hand closes on her opposite shoulder, fingertips denting the armor's shoulder plate. Her weight has shifted onto her back foot, one hip cocked, her breastplate pushed forward by the arm bar so the huge curve of her chest strains the armor's chest plate, the impossibly narrow waist cinched between the plate segments above and the hip guard below. His cheek almost touches her helmet; his chin is tipped down toward her, and the one eye not buried under the long black bangs that sweep across his face is fixed on the edge of her jaw — a cool, appraising half-lidded look, the corner of his mouth curled. She stares straight forward past the frame, nothing readable in her face, lower lip parted a few millimetres, a wet highlight sliding along the gloss of her lips; the visor throws a flat band of reflected alley light over the top half of her face and puts her eyes in shadow, so the unreadable expression comes from occlusion, not a blank stare. His glossy black rider jacket creases and throws a hard specular streak down his raised left arm, and his glossy leather pants catch a second sheen at the knee where he braces; her armor keeps a duller, scuffed metallic sheen, scratched and rain-flecked. The alley is medium-narrow — wet asphalt running back between two brick walls, a fire-escape ladder overhead, a row of closed shutters and a humming vending machine glowing at the far end, one dim caged bulb above a service door on the left and a single cold streetlamp spilling over the wall at the upper right. The bulb is the near source: it carves the woman's helmet crown, jawline and breastplate from the left and drops her far side into black; the streetlamp rims the young man's black hair and the top edge of his shoulder from behind and above, so his bangs throw a sharp shadow across the hidden half of his face. Beyond those two pools the alley falls into wet dark, and the puddles on the asphalt repeat both sources as stretched, broken vertical streaks — reflections darker and softer than the lights themselves. Palette: cold blue-grey shadow, sodium amber near light, black leather, gunmetal armor, the red glint of the vending machine as the only warm accent. Rain has stopped; the ground still black and mirror-wet. Tense, vice-like.
Ryo Shiratake
AI artwork
Avatar image of Ryo Shiratake
copyright: robocop 2girls, 1boy, 2girls 1boy, restrained, capture, alley, dark alley, beautiful female cyborg cop, well-defined jawline, thick lips, incredibly slim waist, incredibly huge breasts, incredibly huge buttocks, huge ass, robocop armor, robocop helmet, robocop visor, covered eyes, mouth slightly open, expressionless, tall androgynous 18-year-old bishounen, beautiful black hair, long bangs covering one eye, youthful and alluring, glossy rider jacket, glossy leather pants, tall male, binding, holding arms from behind, headlock, from behind, over-the-shoulder composition, dutch angle, looking at another, close-up on hands, wet asphalt, neon reflections, night The camera sits low and close behind the boy's right shoulder, tilted slightly off level so the alley's walls rake diagonally across the frame. In front of the lens, filling the middle distance, the armored woman is held upright with her back arched against the boy: he stands directly behind her, taller by more than a head, his chest against her shoulder blades, his right forearm locked horizontally across her upper chest just under her collarbone while his left hand closes over her right wrist and pins it down at her hip. His glossy rider jacket creases sharply at the elbow he has tucked in, its sheen catching a long white highlight along the seam; his glossy leather pants pull tight over the thigh he has braced behind her calf, and his weight rides on that back leg, heel dug in. Her armored bulk occupies the foreground plane: the helmet's visor is a single dark unbroken band across her eyes, showing nothing of the expression behind it, and only her mouth is legible below the armored rim — thick lips parted a narrow wedge, a small dark gap of breath between them. The jaw tapered and clean under the plating. Her armor's shoulder caps and chest plate are broad and hard-edged, and the absurd narrowness of the waist reads as a sculpted taper between the chest plate and the hip plates, with the massive swell of the hips and thighs straining the segmented lower armor; her boots are planted apart, one toe turned out, the only part of her fighting the hold. Her hair is crushed flat under the helmet rim at her neck. His head is bent to her, cheek nearly at her ear, the long black bangs falling across the right side of his face and hanging straight over that eye so only the left eye shows, narrow and watching the side of her helmet; the visible eye is calm, almost bored, and he is not smiling. Her face inside the visor turns slightly toward his jaw, though there is no eye to read it by. The alley: brick and concrete flanking walls close on both sides, a rusted drainpipe running down the left wall, a shutter door and stacked crates behind them, a puddle spread across the cracked asphalt in front. One overhead security lamp is the only light — a cold white cone from high right, striking the top of his glossy jacket and the curve of her helmet, leaving the wall behind them and everything past the lamp's reach in near-total dark. Every wet surface shows doubles: the lamp as a stretched smear in the puddle, their two silhouettes as a darker, softer, broken reflection beneath it, rippling where her planted boot has disturbed the water. Palette is cold — gunmetal, wet slate, deep black — with one warm intrusion, a distant sodium-orange glow bleeding in at the far end of the alley behind them, outlining the boy's black hair and the woman's shoulder from behind. Tight framing on the two of them, walls crowding in, no sky. Tense, quietly menacing.
Ryo Shiratake

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