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 "The Bone Sovereign in the Cursed Wasteland" featuring #赤目, #多色髪, #剣, #死体, #髑髏, #男の子, #前垂れ and #スケルトン

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The Bone Sovereign in the Cursed Wasteland

I am completely captivated by the haunting elegance of this character, standing fearlessly amidst a landscape of skeletal remains and ancient swords. The contrast between the serene expression and the dark, necromantic energy of the skeletal wings creates such a powerful atmosphere that I had to share it. If you find this blend of beauty and decay as fascinating as I do, please leave a like, follow for more art, and let me know your thoughts in the comments!

#赤目 #多色髪 #剣 #死体 #髑髏 #男の子 #前垂れ #スケルトン

投稿日は Nov 4, 2026

OverNoob

さらに表示

1boy, solo, adult male, androgynous, feminine-looking young man, bishounen, pale skin, long hair, floor-length hair, silky hair, black hair, white hair, two-tone hair, glowing eyes, glowing, black robe, minimal clothing, revealing clothes, gray patterns, skull print, cross print, bare shoulders, bare arms, bare legs, groin, small bulge, crotch bulge, gold jewelry, gold necklace, gold earrings, gold bangles, skeletal wings, rune-carved wings, wings behind back, floating wings, skeletal staff, hovering staff, sword, floating sword, high mountain, green mist, fog, very dark sky, stormy sky, dark clouds, dried-up riverbed, dead mountains, giant skeletons in background, giant skulls, giant swords in ground, from below, low angle, wide shot, standing, looking down at viewer, hair blowing, dramatic wind, dark fantasy, ominous The camera sits low on the cracked bed of the dried river, tilted up: the young man stands full-length on a raised shelf of the dry channel, seen from below so his floor-length hair and the rune wings tower against the storm. His weight rests on his right leg, the left knee slightly bent and the left hip pushed out, one bare arm hanging loose with the gold bangles sliding toward the elbow, the other hand lifted to the pale nape, fingers just brushing the hairline. His chin is tipped down toward the lens, lids half lowered over the glowing eyes; a faint lopsided smile, one brow a little raised, patient and knowing. Silk-black hair threaded with white sheets past his shoulders, past his hips, down to touch the dry stones at his heels, the white strands catching the mist; a gust drives a section across his bare collarbone, the gold necklace resting in the hollow of his throat. The black robe is minimal: it clings only up the center of his torso, a long panel with gray skull and cross motifs playing down the chest, cut away entirely over the shoulders, ribs and abdomen so that his pale sides and stomach are fully exposed, and it narrows to a single narrow strip over the groin, where the small distinct bulge tents the fabric in clear relief; his bare legs run from the hip down to the ankles. The gray patterns are etched and ink-laid, not printed flat, and the panel's edge lifts and snaps in the wind. Behind and above his back, the skeletal wings float free of any joint, three tiers of bone strung with white runes that glow faintly, the rib-bones open like fingers and their thin shadows thrown across the mist. The skeletal staff hovers at his right shoulder, angled, its bone shaft and small skull finial turning slowly; the sword hangs at his left, edge down, its rusted blade disturbing the fog into small curling vortices where it passes the material. Neither tool is gripped, and nothing touches his hands. The green mist pools low in the riverbed behind him and coils around the giant skeletons scattered up the dead mountainside -- enormous ribs half-buried in the stones, the tilted dome of a skull as large as a house, tall swords driven into the dried channel, their blades pitted and dark. The very dark sky presses above, storm clouds nearly black, one bruised slate-green seam of light leaking through them and backlighting the bone wings with a cold rim. The green fog glows from the waist down where it hides the ground, while the upper wind carries it in shredded tendrils past his chest and hair. A small piece of physics to hold it: the fog curls into a visible vortex only where the floating sword's edge cuts through it, and the wing-runes throw green light onto his bared shoulder blades. Palette: black, bone-white, storm-slate and a single dense green of the mist, with the gold of the jewelry a warm small counterweight at the throat, ears and wrist. Monumental, ominous.

The Bone Sovereign in the Cursed Wasteland

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