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Paparadin

PaparadinさんのAIイラストです。使用モデル: Tsubaki.3 Flash。

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Paparadin

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lumifract, painterly_lightwork, 1boy, solo, male paladin knight, dark cobalt blue hair, blue eyes, ornate silver armor, musketeer cloak covering left arm, holding sword with glowing holy runes, right arm raised in front of chest, oath-swearing pose, crystal lightning aura, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, looking at sword, serious expression, clenched jaw, cape billowing, glowing runes, lightning arcing, dramatic low-angle composition. A low-angle dutch-angle cowboy shot from below, tilted a few degrees off vertical, framing the lone knight from mid-thigh to just above the head against a storm-charged sky. His body is turned a quarter away to the right, weight sunk into the back foot with the front knee bent, hips canted, so the silver plate stacks in overlapping foreshortened planes toward the lens. Dark cobalt blue hair, deep and near-navy at the crown with colder blue lights catching the swept strands, falls across a brow furrowed in concentration; the eyes beneath are a clear hard blue, fixed downward along the blade rather than at the camera, their gaze landing on the rune-lit steel. His jaw is tight, mouth set flat with the lower lip pressed slightly forward, one brow drawn lower than the other — a vow spoken under pressure, not a smile. The right arm is lifted and folded across the front of his chest, forearm angled upward and inward, the gauntleted hand closed around the sword's grip so the pommel rests near his sternum and the blade rises diagonally past his right shoulder. Silver plate segments of the vambrace and rerebrace clamp over the forearm, overlapping lames catching hard rim light along their top edges, and the fingers are articulated, each knuckle clearly wrapping the leather-wrapped grip. The blade itself is pale steel, its flat etched with holy runes that burn a clean white-gold where they cut through the gloom, brightest close to the guard and thinning toward the tip as the metal angles away. The left arm is held low and drawn back, entirely swallowed by the musketeer cloak: heavy wool falling from a broad shoulder mantle, hanging in deep folds that break across the forearm and hide the hand completely, the hem sweeping out and to the left, lifted by the same disturbance that drives the aura. At the cloak's leading edge and along the hidden left forearm, a crystal lightning aura crackles — branching filaments of translucent cyan-white light, faceted like splintered glass at their cores, throwing hard blue reflections onto the wool's nap and onto the polished silver beside it. The brightest arcs lick along the topmost upward-facing folds of the cloak; the undersides stay black. Static lift raises the loose strands of his hair and the cloak's fibers toward the light. He stands on wet dark stone paving, a few scattered slabs visible in the lower foreground, their puddled seams reflecting the rune glow in broken vertical streaks that are softer and dimmer than the source. The world behind him is a single mass of low storm cloud and a distant broken wall, held in cold desaturated blue-grey. The blade's runes and the lightning aura are the only light sources: a white-gold key raking up the right side of his face and chest from the sword, and a colder cyan fill from the left where the aura burns — so the left of his jaw, the left pauldron and the hanging cloak edge pick up cyan, while the right side of the helm, the raised forearm and the plate over his ribs take the warm gold, and beyond those two pools the shadow is deep and absolute. Palette closes tight around cobalt, gunmetal silver, cyan-white and a thin thread of gold, nothing else admitted. Crisp cel-shaded armor edges, fine metallic specular highlights, painterly wool texture. Ominous, resolute. blue crystal lightning rose aura
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オリジナルプロンプト
lumifract, painterly_lightwork, 1boy, solo, male paladin knight, dark cobalt blue hair, blue eyes, ornate silver armor, musketeer cloak covering left arm, holding sword with glowing holy runes, right arm raised in front of chest, oath-swearing pose, crystal lightning aura, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, looking at sword, serious expression, clenched jaw, cape billowing, glowing runes, lightning arcing, dramatic low-angle composition. A low-angle dutch-angle cowboy shot from below, tilted a few degrees off vertical, framing the lone knight from mid-thigh to just above the head against a storm-charged sky. His body is turned a quarter away to the right, weight sunk into the back foot with the front knee bent, hips canted, so the silver plate stacks in overlapping foreshortened planes toward the lens. Dark cobalt blue hair, deep and near-navy at the crown with colder blue lights catching the swept strands, falls across a brow furrowed in concentration; the eyes beneath are a clear hard blue, fixed downward along the blade rather than at the camera, their gaze landing on the rune-lit steel. His jaw is tight, mouth set flat with the lower lip pressed slightly forward, one brow drawn lower than the other — a vow spoken under pressure, not a smile. The right arm is lifted and folded across the front of his chest, forearm angled upward and inward, the gauntleted hand closed around the sword's grip so the pommel rests near his sternum and the blade rises diagonally past his right shoulder. Silver plate segments of the vambrace and rerebrace clamp over the forearm, overlapping lames catching hard rim light along their top edges, and the fingers are articulated, each knuckle clearly wrapping the leather-wrapped grip. The blade itself is pale steel, its flat etched with holy runes that burn a clean white-gold where they cut through the gloom, brightest close to the guard and thinning toward the tip as the metal angles away. The left arm is held low and drawn back, entirely swallowed by the musketeer cloak: heavy wool falling from a broad shoulder mantle, hanging in deep folds that break across the forearm and hide the hand completely, the hem sweeping out and to the left, lifted by the same disturbance that drives the aura. At the cloak's leading edge and along the hidden left forearm, a crystal lightning aura crackles — branching filaments of translucent cyan-white light, faceted like splintered glass at their cores, throwing hard blue reflections onto the wool's nap and onto the polished silver beside it. The brightest arcs lick along the topmost upward-facing folds of the cloak; the undersides stay black. Static lift raises the loose strands of his hair and the cloak's fibers toward the light. He stands on wet dark stone paving, a few scattered slabs visible in the lower foreground, their puddled seams reflecting the rune glow in broken vertical streaks that are softer and dimmer than the source. The world behind him is a single mass of low storm cloud and a distant broken wall, held in cold desaturated blue-grey. The blade's runes and the lightning aura are the only light sources: a white-gold key raking up the right side of his face and chest from the sword, and a colder cyan fill from the left where the aura burns — so the left of his jaw, the left pauldron and the hanging cloak edge pick up cyan, while the right side of the helm, the raised forearm and the plate over his ribs take the warm gold, and beyond those two pools the shadow is deep and absolute. Palette closes tight around cobalt, gunmetal silver, cyan-white and a thin thread of gold, nothing else admitted. Crisp cel-shaded armor edges, fine metallic specular highlights, painterly wool texture. Ominous, resolute. blue crystal lightning rose aura
モード
flash
縦横比
1104 x 1824
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
2.16k

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lumifract, painterly_lightwork, 1boy, solo, male paladin knight, dark cobalt blue hair, blue eyes, ornate silver armor, musketeer cloak covering left arm, holding sword with glowing holy runes, right arm raised in front of chest, oath-swearing pose, crystal lightning aura, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, looking at sword, serious expression, clenched jaw, cape billowing, glowing runes, lightning arcing, dramatic low-angle composition. A low-angle dutch-angle cowboy shot from below, tilted a few degrees off vertical, framing the lone knight from mid-thigh to just above the head against a storm-charged sky. His body is turned a quarter away to the right, weight sunk into the back foot with the front knee bent, hips canted, so the silver plate stacks in overlapping foreshortened planes toward the lens. Dark cobalt blue hair, deep and near-navy at the crown with colder blue lights catching the swept strands, falls across a brow furrowed in concentration; the eyes beneath are a clear hard blue, fixed downward along the blade rather than at the camera, their gaze landing on the rune-lit steel. His jaw is tight, mouth set flat with the lower lip pressed slightly forward, one brow drawn lower than the other — a vow spoken under pressure, not a smile. The right arm is lifted and folded across the front of his chest, forearm angled upward and inward, the gauntleted hand closed around the sword's grip so the pommel rests near his sternum and the blade rises diagonally past his right shoulder. Silver plate segments of the vambrace and rerebrace clamp over the forearm, overlapping lames catching hard rim light along their top edges, and the fingers are articulated, each knuckle clearly wrapping the leather-wrapped grip. The blade itself is pale steel, its flat etched with holy runes that burn a clean white-gold where they cut through the gloom, brightest close to the guard and thinning toward the tip as the metal angles away. The left arm is held low and drawn back, entirely swallowed by the musketeer cloak: heavy wool falling from a broad shoulder mantle, hanging in deep folds that break across the forearm and hide the hand completely, the hem sweeping out and to the left, lifted by the same disturbance that drives the aura. At the cloak's leading edge and along the hidden left forearm, a crystal lightning aura crackles — branching filaments of translucent cyan-white light, faceted like splintered glass at their cores, throwing hard blue reflections onto the wool's nap and onto the polished silver beside it. The brightest arcs lick along the topmost upward-facing folds of the cloak; the undersides stay black. Static lift raises the loose strands of his hair and the cloak's fibers toward the light. He stands on wet dark stone paving, a few scattered slabs visible in the lower foreground, their puddled seams reflecting the rune glow in broken vertical streaks that are softer and dimmer than the source. The world behind him is a single mass of low storm cloud and a distant broken wall, held in cold desaturated blue-grey. The blade's runes and the lightning aura are the only light sources: a white-gold key raking up the right side of his face and chest from the sword, and a colder cyan fill from the left where the aura burns — so the left of his jaw, the left pauldron and the hanging cloak edge pick up cyan, while the right side of the helm, the raised forearm and the plate over his ribs take the warm gold, and beyond those two pools the shadow is deep and absolute. Palette closes tight around cobalt, gunmetal silver, cyan-white and a thin thread of gold, nothing else admitted. Crisp cel-shaded armor edges, fine metallic specular highlights, painterly wool texture. Ominous, resolute. blue crystal lightning rose aura
Paparadin
AI artwork
p
lumifract, painterly_lightwork, 1boy, solo, male paladin knight, dark cobalt blue hair, blue eyes, ornate silver armor, musketeer cloak covering left arm, holding sword with glowing holy runes, right arm raised in front of chest, oath-swearing pose, crystal lightning aura, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, looking at sword, serious expression, clenched jaw, cape billowing, glowing runes, lightning arcing, dramatic low-angle composition. A low-angle dutch-angle cowboy shot from below, tilted a few degrees off vertical, framing the lone knight from mid-thigh to just above the head against a storm-charged sky. His body is turned a quarter away to the right, weight sunk into the back foot with the front knee bent, hips canted, so the silver plate stacks in overlapping foreshortened planes toward the lens. Dark cobalt blue hair, deep and near-navy at the crown with colder blue lights catching the swept strands, falls across a brow furrowed in concentration; the eyes beneath are a clear hard blue, fixed downward along the blade rather than at the camera, their gaze landing on the rune-lit steel. His jaw is tight, mouth set flat with the lower lip pressed slightly forward, one brow drawn lower than the other — a vow spoken under pressure, not a smile. The right arm is lifted and folded across the front of his chest, forearm angled upward and inward, the gauntleted hand closed around the sword's grip so the pommel rests near his sternum and the blade rises diagonally past his right shoulder. Silver plate segments of the vambrace and rerebrace clamp over the forearm, overlapping lames catching hard rim light along their top edges, and the fingers are articulated, each knuckle clearly wrapping the leather-wrapped grip. The blade itself is pale steel, its flat etched with holy runes that burn a clean white-gold where they cut through the gloom, brightest close to the guard and thinning toward the tip as the metal angles away. The left arm is held low and drawn back, entirely swallowed by the musketeer cloak: heavy wool falling from a broad shoulder mantle, hanging in deep folds that break across the forearm and hide the hand completely, the hem sweeping out and to the left, lifted by the same disturbance that drives the aura. At the cloak's leading edge and along the hidden left forearm, a crystal lightning aura crackles — branching filaments of translucent cyan-white light, faceted like splintered glass at their cores, throwing hard blue reflections onto the wool's nap and onto the polished silver beside it. The brightest arcs lick along the topmost upward-facing folds of the cloak; the undersides stay black. Static lift raises the loose strands of his hair and the cloak's fibers toward the light. He stands on wet dark stone paving, a few scattered slabs visible in the lower foreground, their puddled seams reflecting the rune glow in broken vertical streaks that are softer and dimmer than the source. The world behind him is a single mass of low storm cloud and a distant broken wall, held in cold desaturated blue-grey. The blade's runes and the lightning aura are the only light sources: a white-gold key raking up the right side of his face and chest from the sword, and a colder cyan fill from the left where the aura burns — so the left of his jaw, the left pauldron and the hanging cloak edge pick up cyan, while the right side of the helm, the raised forearm and the plate over his ribs take the warm gold, and beyond those two pools the shadow is deep and absolute. Palette closes tight around cobalt, gunmetal silver, cyan-white and a thin thread of gold, nothing else admitted. Crisp cel-shaded armor edges, fine metallic specular highlights, painterly wool texture. Ominous, resolute. blue crystal lightning rose aura
Paparadin
AI artwork
p
lumifract, painterly_lightwork, 1boy, solo, male paladin knight, dark cobalt blue hair, blue eyes, ornate silver armor, musketeer cloak covering left arm, holding sword with glowing holy runes, right arm raised in front of chest, oath-swearing pose, crystal lightning aura, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, looking at sword, serious expression, clenched jaw, cape billowing, glowing runes, lightning arcing, dramatic low-angle composition. A low-angle dutch-angle cowboy shot from below, tilted a few degrees off vertical, framing the lone knight from mid-thigh to just above the head against a storm-charged sky. His body is turned a quarter away to the right, weight sunk into the back foot with the front knee bent, hips canted, so the silver plate stacks in overlapping foreshortened planes toward the lens. Dark cobalt blue hair, deep and near-navy at the crown with colder blue lights catching the swept strands, falls across a brow furrowed in concentration; the eyes beneath are a clear hard blue, fixed downward along the blade rather than at the camera, their gaze landing on the rune-lit steel. His jaw is tight, mouth set flat with the lower lip pressed slightly forward, one brow drawn lower than the other — a vow spoken under pressure, not a smile. The right arm is lifted and folded across the front of his chest, forearm angled upward and inward, the gauntleted hand closed around the sword's grip so the pommel rests near his sternum and the blade rises diagonally past his right shoulder. Silver plate segments of the vambrace and rerebrace clamp over the forearm, overlapping lames catching hard rim light along their top edges, and the fingers are articulated, each knuckle clearly wrapping the leather-wrapped grip. The blade itself is pale steel, its flat etched with holy runes that burn a clean white-gold where they cut through the gloom, brightest close to the guard and thinning toward the tip as the metal angles away. The left arm is held low and drawn back, entirely swallowed by the musketeer cloak: heavy wool falling from a broad shoulder mantle, hanging in deep folds that break across the forearm and hide the hand completely, the hem sweeping out and to the left, lifted by the same disturbance that drives the aura. At the cloak's leading edge and along the hidden left forearm, a crystal lightning aura crackles — branching filaments of translucent cyan-white light, faceted like splintered glass at their cores, throwing hard blue reflections onto the wool's nap and onto the polished silver beside it. The brightest arcs lick along the topmost upward-facing folds of the cloak; the undersides stay black. Static lift raises the loose strands of his hair and the cloak's fibers toward the light. He stands on wet dark stone paving, a few scattered slabs visible in the lower foreground, their puddled seams reflecting the rune glow in broken vertical streaks that are softer and dimmer than the source. The world behind him is a single mass of low storm cloud and a distant broken wall, held in cold desaturated blue-grey. The blade's runes and the lightning aura are the only light sources: a white-gold key raking up the right side of his face and chest from the sword, and a colder cyan fill from the left where the aura burns — so the left of his jaw, the left pauldron and the hanging cloak edge pick up cyan, while the right side of the helm, the raised forearm and the plate over his ribs take the warm gold, and beyond those two pools the shadow is deep and absolute. Palette closes tight around cobalt, gunmetal silver, cyan-white and a thin thread of gold, nothing else admitted. Crisp cel-shaded armor edges, fine metallic specular highlights, painterly wool texture. Ominous, resolute.
Paparadin
AI artwork
p
lumifract, painterly_lightwork, 1boy, solo, male paladin knight, dark cobalt blue hair, blue eyes, ornate silver armor, musketeer cloak covering left arm, holding sword with glowing holy runes, right arm raised in front of chest, oath-swearing pose, crystal lightning aura, from below, dutch angle, cowboy shot, looking at sword, serious expression, clenched jaw, cape billowing, glowing runes, lightning arcing, dramatic low-angle composition. A low-angle dutch-angle cowboy shot from below, tilted a few degrees off vertical, framing the lone knight from mid-thigh to just above the head against a storm-charged sky. His body is turned a quarter away to the right, weight sunk into the back foot with the front knee bent, hips canted, so the silver plate stacks in overlapping foreshortened planes toward the lens. Dark cobalt blue hair, deep and near-navy at the crown with colder blue lights catching the swept strands, falls across a brow furrowed in concentration; the eyes beneath are a clear hard blue, fixed downward along the blade rather than at the camera, their gaze landing on the rune-lit steel. His jaw is tight, mouth set flat with the lower lip pressed slightly forward, one brow drawn lower than the other — a vow spoken under pressure, not a smile. The right arm is lifted and folded across the front of his chest, forearm angled upward and inward, the gauntleted hand closed around the sword's grip so the pommel rests near his sternum and the blade rises diagonally past his right shoulder. Silver plate segments of the vambrace and rerebrace clamp over the forearm, overlapping lames catching hard rim light along their top edges, and the fingers are articulated, each knuckle clearly wrapping the leather-wrapped grip. The blade itself is pale steel, its flat etched with holy runes that burn a clean white-gold where they cut through the gloom, brightest close to the guard and thinning toward the tip as the metal angles away. The left arm is held low and drawn back, entirely swallowed by the musketeer cloak: heavy wool falling from a broad shoulder mantle, hanging in deep folds that break across the forearm and hide the hand completely, the hem sweeping out and to the left, lifted by the same disturbance that drives the aura. At the cloak's leading edge and along the hidden left forearm, a crystal lightning aura crackles — branching filaments of translucent cyan-white light, faceted like splintered glass at their cores, throwing hard blue reflections onto the wool's nap and onto the polished silver beside it. The brightest arcs lick along the topmost upward-facing folds of the cloak; the undersides stay black. Static lift raises the loose strands of his hair and the cloak's fibers toward the light. He stands on wet dark stone paving, a few scattered slabs visible in the lower foreground, their puddled seams reflecting the rune glow in broken vertical streaks that are softer and dimmer than the source. The world behind him is a single mass of low storm cloud and a distant broken wall, held in cold desaturated blue-grey. The blade's runes and the lightning aura are the only light sources: a white-gold key raking up the right side of his face and chest from the sword, and a colder cyan fill from the left where the aura burns — so the left of his jaw, the left pauldron and the hanging cloak edge pick up cyan, while the right side of the helm, the raised forearm and the plate over his ribs take the warm gold, and beyond those two pools the shadow is deep and absolute. Palette closes tight around cobalt, gunmetal silver, cyan-white and a thin thread of gold, nothing else admitted. Crisp cel-shaded armor edges, fine metallic specular highlights, painterly wool texture. Ominous, resolute.
Paparadin

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