Nov 9, 2026

Notice: About Recent Slower Generation Speeds and Limited Computing Resources — Dear PixAI Community, Thank you for your continued love and support for PixAI. Recently, generation speeds on PixAI have…

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ดาบพิฆาตอสูร

#ดาบพิฆาตอสูร

เผยแพร่เมื่อ Nov 9, 2026

Meikuen

ดูเพิ่มเติม

1boy, solo, portrait, upper body, close-up, from above, slight dutch angle, head tilted up toward viewer, looking at viewer, sideways glance, smirk, flustered, blush, sweatdrop, half-closed eyes, one eyebrow raised, tan skin, strong jawline, handsome, tall, broad shoulders, muscular, athletic build, dark brown hair, medium hair, messy hair, wolf cut, choppy layered bangs, shaggy hair, feathered hair, amber eyes, brown eyes, demon slayer uniform, black high-collared jacket, white dress shirt, silver buttons, white belt, long loose tattsuke-hakama trousers, no sword, bare hands, clean sharp line art, thick and thin lines, vibrant colors, bright sunny lighting, anime screencap, slice of life, key visual, 9:16 The camera looks down from just above eye level at a slight tilt, the frame cropped at the chest so the whole picture is one young man and nothing else. He is caught mid-turn toward the lens: his shoulders swing a few degrees off square, weight settled onto his back foot, chest lifted, the broad slope of his shoulders and the thick column of his neck filling the upper half of the frame. His chin is tipped up so his amber-brown eyes come at the viewer from under his brow — the left eye narrowed, the right a touch wider than it wants to be, both catching a hard bright glint. His mouth is pulled into a smirk that has lost control of one corner, lips parting unevenly around a breath he did not plan to take; a warm flush sits high across his tan cheekbones and the tips of his ears, and a single sweatdrop clings at his temple. His right hand is up at the back of his neck, fingers pushed into the shaggy feathered layers there, elbow lifted; his left hand has hooked into the collar of his uniform jacket and tugged it loose, knuckles pressed to the white dress shirt beneath. His dark brown hair is a wolf cut gone messy — volume piled on top, choppy layered bangs split across his forehead and flicking at odd angles, the thinned ends at his nape standing away from his neck where his fingers have raked through them. He wears the black high-collared Corps jacket with its silver buttons, the white dress shirt straight beneath it, a white belt at the waist and long loose tattsuke-hakama trousers falling out of the bottom of the crop; no sword at his hip, both hands bare. The light is a single strong sun from high and to his right — it lays a bright edge along his jaw, his cheekbone and the top of his shoulder, drops a crisp shadow under his chin and across the left side of his throat, and puts a small hard catchlight in each eye; the background is a soft, sunlit, entirely out-of-focus wash of pale warm green and gold, empty of anything readable. Line art stays clean and sharp with weights that swing from thick contour strokes to fine hair strands, colour flat and saturated, cel shadows hard-edged. Bright, easy, a little undone.

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