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v4r.justin#0

v4r.justin#0님의 AI 작품. PixAI에서 감상하세요. 사용 모델: Tsubaki.3 Flash.

v4

v4r.justin#0

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character: emilia_(re:zero) 1girl, solo, emilia_(re:zero), long hair, white hair, purple eyes, braid, hair ornament, hair flower, black eyeliner, skinny, medium breasts, bruised, blood, bandage, bandaged hands, black and white satin sports bra, sponsor logos, black and white skin tight shorts, boxing ring, fists up, fighting stance, serious, nervous, dizzy, horny, cowboy shot, upper body, close-up, from in front, old pub, wooden walls, cheering crowd, realistic, looking at viewer, A front-facing cowboy shot cropped at the hips, the camera slightly below ring-floor level so the viewer looks up across the near ropes: at the centre of the frame she stands squared to the lens, one shoulder dropped, both bandaged fists raised between her chin and her collarbone in a tight guard, knuckles turned inward, the left fist a hand's width higher and a little forward of the right, elbows tucked against her ribs, thumbs locked over curled fingers. Her weight hangs on her back leg, the front knee slack and turned inward, so the whole torso lists a few degrees off vertical and the guard sits slightly low, the way a tired fighter's does. Her chin is up but her head is tilted a touch to her left, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, pupils aimed just past the lens rather than into it, both irises catching the overhead light with a wet glassy shine; a heavy black eyeliner wing has smeared at the outer corner of the right eye and dragged a faint dark streak toward her temple. Colour rides high on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, lips parted on a short breath, one lip corner pulled in and caught between her teeth in a small nervous bite, the wet edge of the lower lip shining. Her white hair is loose from its braid at the crown, the braid fallen forward over her right shoulder and hanging down the chest, the small flower at the side of her head knocked askew, several fine strands stuck to the sweat at her cheek and throat. Bruises map her visible skin: a purple-green shadow swelling under the left eye, a split at the inner brow with a dried dark line down the cheek from it, a bruised bloom across the right ribs just under the bra band, and a red graze on the point of the left shoulder. A thin trickle of blood runs from her right nostril over her upper lip to the corner of her mouth, drying darker where it thins. Her fists are wrapped in off-white cloth bandages, wound in overlapping diagonal turns around the knuckles and wrist, the fabric dirty and compressed, a coin-sized bloom of fresh red soaking through the wrap over the front knuckles of the right hand and a rustier brown ring on the left. The sports bra is black satin with white piping along the neckline and underband, sheened with a hard wet highlight across the bust, sponsor patches sewn along the underband and one on the left cup — a rectangular black-and-white patch reading "IRON FIST GYM", a smaller round patch above it, and fine illegible print under them; the black-and-white shorts are cut high at the hip and grip the skin tight, their white waistband carrying a second sponsor band whose lettering stretches with the fabric where it pulls across her hip. Sweat beads stand on her collarbones and run in a short track down the sternum into the band's edge. The ring frames her: a near rope crosses the lower foreground in a soft blur just under her elbows, the middle and far ropes cut behind her shoulders, the corner post rising to the right of frame. Above and behind, her own cast shadow is thrown long and broken across the scuffed canvas because the light is coming from behind her head. An old pub wraps the ring — dark plank walls of unpolished wood, a low ceiling lost in shadow, a bar counter glimpsed at the far left and hanging bulbs in tin shades. The crowd packs the space beyond the ropes as a dense mass of shoulders and raised fists, faces reduced to open shouting mouths and bright eyes, everyone blurred into a shallow depth of field so the shouting reads as noise rather than detail. A man in a flat cap leans over the top rope at frame right, mouth open wide in a cheer, one arm flung out; a woman with short dark hair beside him has both hands cupped around her mouth. Warm hanging bulbs and two hard overhead spots are the only sources: the spots hammer the top of her skull, the rise of her shoulders and the wet planes of her bra while her eye sockets and the underside of her chin sink into warm brown shadow. Palette is beer-amber, tobacco brown, black satin and the cold white of bandages and skin, with blood the single hot red accent. The near rope's shadow lies across her forearms in one unbroken bar; the canvas under her front foot dips and puckers where her weight has been planted a long time; the crowd's beer glasses throw small wobbling highlights up onto the lowest plank of the wall behind them. Dust turns slowly in the spotlight beams above her head. Nervous, punch-drunk and lit from within.
매개변수 표시
원본 프롬프트
emilia (re:zero), medium breasts,, ,beautiful satin black and white sport bra black and white skin tight shorts close-up, with sponsors,underground fighting arena, horny,, , ,from infront, shes dizzy,, ,skinny,medium breasts,cowboy shot, , look nervous, , ,only upper body,, realistic, bruised,,bloody,,,r bandages around her fists looking serious with her fists up,realistic, old pub with wooden walls and a cheering crowd,crowd cheering,,boxing ring,black eyeliner,
모드
flash
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944 x 1584
프롬프트 도우미

모델 및 LoRA 사용

Tsubaki.3 Flash - AI Model 커버 이미지

PixAI DiT.3

Tsubaki.3 Flash
2.23k

비슷한 작품

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AI artwork
v4
character: emilia_(re:zero) 1girl, solo, emilia_(re:zero), long hair, white hair, purple eyes, braid, hair ornament, hair flower, black eyeliner, skinny, medium breasts, bruised, blood, bandage, bandaged hands, black and white satin sports bra, sponsor logos, black and white skin tight shorts, boxing ring, fists up, fighting stance, serious, nervous, dizzy, horny, cowboy shot, upper body, close-up, from in front, old pub, wooden walls, cheering crowd, realistic, looking at viewer, A front-facing cowboy shot cropped at the hips, the camera slightly below ring-floor level so the viewer looks up across the near ropes: at the centre of the frame she stands squared to the lens, one shoulder dropped, both bandaged fists raised between her chin and her collarbone in a tight guard, knuckles turned inward, the left fist a hand's width higher and a little forward of the right, elbows tucked against her ribs, thumbs locked over curled fingers. Her weight hangs on her back leg, the front knee slack and turned inward, so the whole torso lists a few degrees off vertical and the guard sits slightly low, the way a tired fighter's does. Her chin is up but her head is tilted a touch to her left, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, pupils aimed just past the lens rather than into it, both irises catching the overhead light with a wet glassy shine; a heavy black eyeliner wing has smeared at the outer corner of the right eye and dragged a faint dark streak toward her temple. Colour rides high on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, lips parted on a short breath, one lip corner pulled in and caught between her teeth in a small nervous bite, the wet edge of the lower lip shining. Her white hair is loose from its braid at the crown, the braid fallen forward over her right shoulder and hanging down the chest, the small flower at the side of her head knocked askew, several fine strands stuck to the sweat at her cheek and throat. Bruises map her visible skin: a purple-green shadow swelling under the left eye, a split at the inner brow with a dried dark line down the cheek from it, a bruised bloom across the right ribs just under the bra band, and a red graze on the point of the left shoulder. A thin trickle of blood runs from her right nostril over her upper lip to the corner of her mouth, drying darker where it thins. Her fists are wrapped in off-white cloth bandages, wound in overlapping diagonal turns around the knuckles and wrist, the fabric dirty and compressed, a coin-sized bloom of fresh red soaking through the wrap over the front knuckles of the right hand and a rustier brown ring on the left. The sports bra is black satin with white piping along the neckline and underband, sheened with a hard wet highlight across the bust, sponsor patches sewn along the underband and one on the left cup — a rectangular black-and-white patch reading "IRON FIST GYM", a smaller round patch above it, and fine illegible print under them; the black-and-white shorts are cut high at the hip and grip the skin tight, their white waistband carrying a second sponsor band whose lettering stretches with the fabric where it pulls across her hip. Sweat beads stand on her collarbones and run in a short track down the sternum into the band's edge. The ring frames her: a near rope crosses the lower foreground in a soft blur just under her elbows, the middle and far ropes cut behind her shoulders, the corner post rising to the right of frame. Above and behind, her own cast shadow is thrown long and broken across the scuffed canvas because the light is coming from behind her head. An old pub wraps the ring — dark plank walls of unpolished wood, a low ceiling lost in shadow, a bar counter glimpsed at the far left and hanging bulbs in tin shades. The crowd packs the space beyond the ropes as a dense mass of shoulders and raised fists, faces reduced to open shouting mouths and bright eyes, everyone blurred into a shallow depth of field so the shouting reads as noise rather than detail. A man in a flat cap leans over the top rope at frame right, mouth open wide in a cheer, one arm flung out; a woman with short dark hair beside him has both hands cupped around her mouth. Warm hanging bulbs and two hard overhead spots are the only sources: the spots hammer the top of her skull, the rise of her shoulders and the wet planes of her bra while her eye sockets and the underside of her chin sink into warm brown shadow. Palette is beer-amber, tobacco brown, black satin and the cold white of bandages and skin, with blood the single hot red accent. The near rope's shadow lies across her forearms in one unbroken bar; the canvas under her front foot dips and puckers where her weight has been planted a long time; the crowd's beer glasses throw small wobbling highlights up onto the lowest plank of the wall behind them. Dust turns slowly in the spotlight beams above her head. Nervous, punch-drunk and lit from within.
v4r.justin#0
AI artwork
v4
character: emilia_(re:zero) 1girl, solo, emilia_(re:zero), long hair, white hair, purple eyes, braid, hair ornament, hair flower, black eyeliner, skinny, medium breasts, bruised, blood, bandage, bandaged hands, black and white satin sports bra, sponsor logos, black and white skin tight shorts, boxing ring, fists up, fighting stance, serious, nervous, dizzy, horny, cowboy shot, upper body, close-up, from in front, old pub, wooden walls, cheering crowd, realistic, looking at viewer, A front-facing cowboy shot cropped at the hips, the camera slightly below ring-floor level so the viewer looks up across the near ropes: at the centre of the frame she stands squared to the lens, one shoulder dropped, both bandaged fists raised between her chin and her collarbone in a tight guard, knuckles turned inward, the left fist a hand's width higher and a little forward of the right, elbows tucked against her ribs, thumbs locked over curled fingers. Her weight hangs on her back leg, the front knee slack and turned inward, so the whole torso lists a few degrees off vertical and the guard sits slightly low, the way a tired fighter's does. Her chin is up but her head is tilted a touch to her left, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, pupils aimed just past the lens rather than into it, both irises catching the overhead light with a wet glassy shine; a heavy black eyeliner wing has smeared at the outer corner of the right eye and dragged a faint dark streak toward her temple. Colour rides high on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, lips parted on a short breath, one lip corner pulled in and caught between her teeth in a small nervous bite, the wet edge of the lower lip shining. Her white hair is loose from its braid at the crown, the braid fallen forward over her right shoulder and hanging down the chest, the small flower at the side of her head knocked askew, several fine strands stuck to the sweat at her cheek and throat. Bruises map her visible skin: a purple-green shadow swelling under the left eye, a split at the inner brow with a dried dark line down the cheek from it, a bruised bloom across the right ribs just under the bra band, and a red graze on the point of the left shoulder. A thin trickle of blood runs from her right nostril over her upper lip to the corner of her mouth, drying darker where it thins. Her fists are wrapped in off-white cloth bandages, wound in overlapping diagonal turns around the knuckles and wrist, the fabric dirty and compressed, a coin-sized bloom of fresh red soaking through the wrap over the front knuckles of the right hand and a rustier brown ring on the left. The sports bra is black satin with white piping along the neckline and underband, sheened with a hard wet highlight across the bust, sponsor patches sewn along the underband and one on the left cup — a rectangular black-and-white patch reading "IRON FIST GYM", a smaller round patch above it, and fine illegible print under them; the black-and-white shorts are cut high at the hip and grip the skin tight, their white waistband carrying a second sponsor band whose lettering stretches with the fabric where it pulls across her hip. Sweat beads stand on her collarbones and run in a short track down the sternum into the band's edge. The ring frames her: a near rope crosses the lower foreground in a soft blur just under her elbows, the middle and far ropes cut behind her shoulders, the corner post rising to the right of frame. Above and behind, her own cast shadow is thrown long and broken across the scuffed canvas because the light is coming from behind her head. An old pub wraps the ring — dark plank walls of unpolished wood, a low ceiling lost in shadow, a bar counter glimpsed at the far left and hanging bulbs in tin shades. The crowd packs the space beyond the ropes as a dense mass of shoulders and raised fists, faces reduced to open shouting mouths and bright eyes, everyone blurred into a shallow depth of field so the shouting reads as noise rather than detail. A man in a flat cap leans over the top rope at frame right, mouth open wide in a cheer, one arm flung out; a woman with short dark hair beside him has both hands cupped around her mouth. Warm hanging bulbs and two hard overhead spots are the only sources: the spots hammer the top of her skull, the rise of her shoulders and the wet planes of her bra while her eye sockets and the underside of her chin sink into warm brown shadow. Palette is beer-amber, tobacco brown, black satin and the cold white of bandages and skin, with blood the single hot red accent. The near rope's shadow lies across her forearms in one unbroken bar; the canvas under her front foot dips and puckers where her weight has been planted a long time; the crowd's beer glasses throw small wobbling highlights up onto the lowest plank of the wall behind them. Dust turns slowly in the spotlight beams above her head. Nervous, punch-drunk and lit from within.
v4r.justin#0
AI artwork
v4
character: emilia_(re:zero) 1girl, solo, emilia_(re:zero), long hair, white hair, purple eyes, braid, hair ornament, hair flower, black eyeliner, skinny, medium breasts, bruised, blood, bandage, bandaged hands, black and white satin sports bra, sponsor logos, black and white skin tight shorts, boxing ring, fists up, fighting stance, serious, nervous, dizzy, horny, cowboy shot, upper body, close-up, from in front, old pub, wooden walls, cheering crowd, realistic, looking at viewer, A front-facing cowboy shot cropped at the hips, the camera slightly below ring-floor level so the viewer looks up across the near ropes: at the centre of the frame she stands squared to the lens, one shoulder dropped, both bandaged fists raised between her chin and her collarbone in a tight guard, knuckles turned inward, the left fist a hand's width higher and a little forward of the right, elbows tucked against her ribs, thumbs locked over curled fingers. Her weight hangs on her back leg, the front knee slack and turned inward, so the whole torso lists a few degrees off vertical and the guard sits slightly low, the way a tired fighter's does. Her chin is up but her head is tilted a touch to her left, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, pupils aimed just past the lens rather than into it, both irises catching the overhead light with a wet glassy shine; a heavy black eyeliner wing has smeared at the outer corner of the right eye and dragged a faint dark streak toward her temple. Colour rides high on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, lips parted on a short breath, one lip corner pulled in and caught between her teeth in a small nervous bite, the wet edge of the lower lip shining. Her white hair is loose from its braid at the crown, the braid fallen forward over her right shoulder and hanging down the chest, the small flower at the side of her head knocked askew, several fine strands stuck to the sweat at her cheek and throat. Bruises map her visible skin: a purple-green shadow swelling under the left eye, a split at the inner brow with a dried dark line down the cheek from it, a bruised bloom across the right ribs just under the bra band, and a red graze on the point of the left shoulder. A thin trickle of blood runs from her right nostril over her upper lip to the corner of her mouth, drying darker where it thins. Her fists are wrapped in off-white cloth bandages, wound in overlapping diagonal turns around the knuckles and wrist, the fabric dirty and compressed, a coin-sized bloom of fresh red soaking through the wrap over the front knuckles of the right hand and a rustier brown ring on the left. The sports bra is black satin with white piping along the neckline and underband, sheened with a hard wet highlight across the bust, sponsor patches sewn along the underband and one on the left cup — a rectangular black-and-white patch reading "IRON FIST GYM", a smaller round patch above it, and fine illegible print under them; the black-and-white shorts are cut high at the hip and grip the skin tight, their white waistband carrying a second sponsor band whose lettering stretches with the fabric where it pulls across her hip. Sweat beads stand on her collarbones and run in a short track down the sternum into the band's edge. The ring frames her: a near rope crosses the lower foreground in a soft blur just under her elbows, the middle and far ropes cut behind her shoulders, the corner post rising to the right of frame. Above and behind, her own cast shadow is thrown long and broken across the scuffed canvas because the light is coming from behind her head. An old pub wraps the ring — dark plank walls of unpolished wood, a low ceiling lost in shadow, a bar counter glimpsed at the far left and hanging bulbs in tin shades. The crowd packs the space beyond the ropes as a dense mass of shoulders and raised fists, faces reduced to open shouting mouths and bright eyes, everyone blurred into a shallow depth of field so the shouting reads as noise rather than detail. A man in a flat cap leans over the top rope at frame right, mouth open wide in a cheer, one arm flung out; a woman with short dark hair beside him has both hands cupped around her mouth. Warm hanging bulbs and two hard overhead spots are the only sources: the spots hammer the top of her skull, the rise of her shoulders and the wet planes of her bra while her eye sockets and the underside of her chin sink into warm brown shadow. Palette is beer-amber, tobacco brown, black satin and the cold white of bandages and skin, with blood the single hot red accent. The near rope's shadow lies across her forearms in one unbroken bar; the canvas under her front foot dips and puckers where her weight has been planted a long time; the crowd's beer glasses throw small wobbling highlights up onto the lowest plank of the wall behind them. Dust turns slowly in the spotlight beams above her head. Nervous, punch-drunk and lit from within.
v4r.justin#0
AI artwork
d
character: emilia_(re:zero) 1girl, solo, emilia_(re:zero), long white hair, purple eyes, x-shaped hair ornament, braid, medium breasts, satin sports bra, black and purple sports bra, black sports bra, purple trim, bare shoulders, bare arms, pleated miniskirt, black pleated skirt, purple pleated skirt, matching outfit, boxing gloves, black boxing gloves, blood, blood on face, sweat, exhausted, beaten up, bruised, half-closed eyes, looking at viewer, upper body, standing, leaning back against ropes, arms hooked over ropes, turnbuckle, old boxing ring, dirty boxing ring, frayed ropes, old wooden bar, wooden interior, dim bar interior, warm light, dramatic lighting, muted palette, Upper body only, shot from slightly below eye level so the old ring's corner post rises beside her at frame-left and the turnbuckle pads sit level with her shoulders. The girl stands in the near corner of a raised boxing ring, her back leaning against the two top ropes where they meet the post, both arms hooked loosely over the upper rope one strand apart, forearms draped, wrists hanging; her black boxing gloves dangle over the far side of the rope, thumbs down, the leather scuffed and split at the knuckles. Her weight rests on her right hip against the post, torso angled slightly across the frame, one knee out of the crop. Medium breasts rise under a satin sports bra in black and deep purple with a purple edge band, the fabric sheened with sweat and rucked where the rope presses a crease into her ribs; a matching black-and-purple pleated miniskirt rides at her waist, the pleats crumpled and one hem fold caught on the rope, showing streaks of dried blood. Her long white hair spills from its braid, strands pasted to her damp neck and forehead, the X-shaped ornament slipped sideways above one ear. Her face is battered: a dark bruise swelling the left cheekbone, a split lower lip, a thin red line of blood cutting from her hairline down past the brow and a smear of it across her chin, fresh blood beading on the corner of her mouth. Exhaustion reads in her slack jaw and half-lidded purple eyes, chest lifting in shallow breaths, yet her gaze drops forward and holds directly on the viewer, unblinking. Behind her, the ropes sag and fray over a stained canvas; beyond the ring, the old wooden bar fills the background in warm low values, a long dark counter, dull bottle glass, a glass door lettered in illegible gold-edged script, everything thrown out of focus. One warm overhead bulb is the only key light: it strikes the sweat on her brow, her shoulder and the satin's high points, leaves her eye sockets and the underside of her jaw in shadow, and casts her body's soft silhouette across the frayed ropes and the canvas behind her, a reflection glinting duller on each bottle than the bulb itself. Palette held to black, deep purple, blood red, warm brown wood and dirty canvas off-white. Low, quiet, bone-tired.
dewdd

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character: kaname_madoka_(magical_girl), copyright: mahou_shoujo_madoka_magica Kaname Madoka from Puella Magi Madoka Magica, pink twin tails tied with deep red ribbons, wearing her iconic magical girl costume, white corset-like bodice with delicate back lacing, voluminous layered white and pale pink ruffled skirt, crimson ribbons flowing loosely around her body, viewed from behind at a three-quarter angle, seated with her back gracefully arched, both arms extending naturally downward behind her back, one hand gently holding the opposite wrist, clearly separated hands, relaxed slender fingers, five distinct fingers on each hand, natural finger spacing, anatomically correct wrists, elegant delicate hands, visible knuckles, softly curved fingers, hands clearly visible against the white skirt, unobstructed hand silhouette, accurate hand anatomy, head tilted far backward, chin raised toward the darkness, face mostly hidden, elegant elongated silhouette, delicate exposed shoulders, soft loose strands of pink hair, dramatic asymmetrical composition, close medium shot, large skirt filling the lower frame, dark almost black background, dramatic directional lighting, pale ivory highlights, muted dusty pink, cold gray shadows, rich crimson accents, strong contrast between luminous fabric and deep darkness, thick impasto oil painting, expressive visible brushstrokes, heavy layered paint, rough palette knife texture, sculptural paint strokes, painterly edges, textured canvas, loose gestural painting, rich tactile surface, dramatic chiaroscuro, melancholic atmosphere, haunting beauty, full bleed composition, edge-to-edge artwork, no borders, no frame, textured illustration, grainy texture, crayon texture, chalky brushwork, impasto strokes, bold color blocking, stylized anime, flat shading, dry brush effect, atmospheric lighting, soft glow highlights, rough painterly anime style, visible textured brushstrokes, heavy impasto texture, scratchy charcoal-like linework, expressive gestural strokes, smudged edges, desaturated base tones with aggressive high-contrast color, sketch style, rough brushstroke
リオ
4#마법소녀 마도카☆마기카#카나메 마도카#마법소녀 마도카☆마기카
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