Nov 3, 2026

서버 점검 완료 안내 — 서버 점검이 완료되어 SDXL 및 Tsubaki.1 작업의 이미지 생성 속도가 정상화되었습니다. 점검 기간 동안 누적된 작업은 시스템에서 순차적으로 처리될 예정입니다. 이에 따라 일부 작업은 완료까지 다소 시간이 소…

AI artwork featuring #남성, #장발, #헤일로, #천사 and #꽃밭

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장발, 헤일로

#남성 #장발 #헤일로 #천사 #꽃밭

게시일 Nov 2, 2026

水

水流水花

1boy, solo, androgynous, beautiful young man, about 20 years old, slender fragile build, white hair, long hair, straight hair, waist-length hair, bangs covering right eye, hair over one eye, muted light blue eyes, pale eyelashes, serene resigned expression, faint closed-mouth smile, angel, four wings, four large white feathered wings, white thorn halo, briar halo, halo of white thorns, pince-nez no, lace cuffs, white blouse, frilled cuffs, black slacks, black loafers, black rose, rose pierced through chest, pierced chest, lying down, lying on back, on side, white roses, white rose field, black thorns, thorny vines wrapped around body, vines across torso, vines around arms, engulfed by white roses, half-buried in roses, roses closing over shoulders, background of white roses, from above, high angle, three-quarter view, dutch angle slight, close foreground roses, high contrast, bold halftone dots, thick outlines, neon accents, graffiti marks, pop-graphic composition Seen from above and slightly off-axis, the young man lies on his back in a field of white roses, his head toward the lower left of the frame and his body running back into the bloom, chin tipped up and turned a little toward the lens. His waist-length straight white hair spreads under his shoulders in a loose fan, strands caught between petals and a few fine locks lying across the tops of the roses; the long bangs fall in a clean pale sheet that hangs over his right eye, hiding it entirely while the left eye stays open beneath half-lowered lids, its muted, dimmed pale blue catching the grey light and drifting off toward the upper corner of the frame rather than meeting the viewer. His brows sit drawn and flat, and the corners of his mouth lift in a small, deliberate, tired smile, lips barely parting, the resignation held still instead of acted out. He wears a white blouse with a soft open collar and lace cuffs that bunch at both wrists where his hands lie palms-up among the flowers, fingers loosely curled and unmoving; black slacks run from his hips down through the roses, and the shine of one black loafer shows between the blooms near the right edge, its toe turned up. A black rose is driven straight into the center of his chest, its head sitting proud of the blouse and its petals just beginning to bruise at the outer edges, a faint dark bloom of color soaked around the point of entry in the white cotton. White roses and black thorn vines are wound around his body — one strand lays over his ribs, another crosses his left forearm and disappears under the lace cuff, another loops his thigh — and the vines tighten just enough to press the fabric into the contours beneath them. Four large white feathered wings fold outward from his back and lie crushed sideways into the roses, the upper pair spread wide across the upper half of the frame with primary feathers splayed and tips dragging petals, the lower pair crumpled and half covered where the flowers have already risen over them. Bloom clusters crowd in from the lower left and from the top edge, closing over his shoulder and claiming the far side of his body, some flowers overlapping the wing coverts in front, so the field reads as slowly swallowing him rather than surrounding him. A white halo of twisted briar hovers just above and behind his hair, its thorny ring made of the same pale thorned wood as the vines, one bent spur dipping toward his forehead without touching it. Light is cold, diffuse and overhead, a flat grey-white bath with no visible sun; the wing edges and the tops of the roses bleach out slightly in the high key, the deepest shadow pooling in the gaps between petals, under his jaw, and in the crease where the vines press the blouse to his ribs, and each white bloom throws a short soft shadow down onto the petal beneath it. Palette is strictly white and near-white, black, and the one muted pale blue of the visible eye, nothing else admitted. Thick dark outlines around the blooms and the hair, flat cel shading cut hard at the shadow edges, a cloud of bold black halftone dots gathering in the corner darkness and along the vine strands, sparse angular graffiti marks scoring the negative space, and a punchy electric-cyan accent flickering along the sharpest highlight of the halo's thorns and one wing edge. The physical tell is the way the rose petals bend up around his weight and the hair spreads into them without flattening, each stem yielding exactly where his body presses. Quiet, resigned, luminous.

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