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AI artwork featuring #My Hero Academia and #Katsuki Bakugo
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Katsuki Bakugo, My Hero Academia

#My Hero Academia#Katsuki Bakugo
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character: bakugou_katsuki 1boy, solo, blonde hair, spiked hair, red eyes, wearing pull-up, pooping, changing diaper, from above, crouching, wide shot, indoor, bathroom A high-angle view looking down at a blonde, spiky-haired boy with red eyes. The image is a two-panel split composition. In the left panel, he is crouching with a strained, focused expression, his weight shifted onto his toes as he poops into his thick, white pull-up; the fabric of the pull-up is visibly sagging and weighted at the seat. In the right panel, he is sitting on the tiled floor of a bright bathroom, leaning back on one hand while the other hand grips the adhesive tab of a fresh pull-up, pulling it up over his hip to change himself. The sterile white tiles of the bathroom reflect the harsh overhead fluorescent lighting, casting short, sharp shadows beneath him. The palette is dominated by clinical white and grey, contrasted by the sharp gold of his hair and the crimson of his eyes. A small puddle of water on the tile floor near his bare foot creates a shimmering reflection. Effortlessly pragmatic.
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Original Prompt
Katsuki Bakugou pooping in his pull-up and then changing himself
Mode
flash
Size
1104 x 1824
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pd
character: bakugou_katsuki 1boy, solo, bakugou katsuki, short spiked ash-blonde hair, red eyes, kneeling on bathroom floor, hugging own knees, forehead pressed to knees, crying, streaming tears, wet cheeks, trembling, pull-up visible at hip under shirt, black pants bunched down around knees, bare legs below, bare feet, bathroom interior, from above, high angle, looking down, no dialogue text, empty speech bubbles absent, medium close-up The camera looks down from above at a tight bathroom corner, near the ceiling, so the boy is seen from the top of his spiked ash-blonde head and the curve of his hunched back; he kneels on the pale tiled floor with both knees together and his shins flat, heels tucked under his thighs, and he has folded forward hard enough that his forehead rests against the tops of his knees. Both arms wrap around his shins, his hands gripping opposite elbows, knuckles pale from the squeeze; his shoulders are drawn up around his ears and shake in small hitches. Black pants are shoved down in a bunched ring around his knees, the fabric creased and half-turned inside out at the hems, and beneath them the white pull-up sits low on his hips, visibly damp and heavy at the seat, sagging slightly away from the small of his back with a faint dark swell where it has soaked through. His shirt is rucked up at the ribs, exposing the strip of bare skin between hem and hip. His bare feet are pressed flat to the tile, toes curled. His face is hidden by the pose except for the wet shine tracking down one cheek to his chin and a jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumps; one eye is squeezed shut against his knee, tears running sideways and dripping off his chin onto the tile, where a few dark drops have already pooled in the grout lines and run along them. His spiked hair is flattened at the crown from where his head has pressed against his knees. The bathroom is small and cold: white square tiles with grey grout, a toilet base and a low cabinet cropped at the frame's far edge, a bath mat displaced and wrinkled under one shin, a crumpled wad of tissue by his foot. Light comes from a single overhead bulb above and slightly behind the camera, cool and flat; it makes a hard small highlight on the damp curve of the pull-up, throws the boy's compressed shadow directly beneath him into the corner where the wall meets the floor, and leaves the top of his back pale and the underside of his folded body in deep shadow. Palette limited to cold white tile, grey grout, the black of the pants, the bleached white of the pull-up, and the muted ash-blonde of his hair, with red confined to his eyes and the raw rims of them. Lonely, breaking.
Princess Diani The FNAF Gal 2000
AI artwork
pd
character: bakugou_katsuki 1boy, solo, bakugou katsuki, ash-blond spiked hair, red eyes, short hair, kneeling, doubled over, hunched forward, one hand pressed flat against his stomach, other hand pressing a fluffy white bath towel to his nose and mouth, nose blow, eyes squeezed shut, crying, tears, tear tracks, red swollen eyes, runny nose, sniffling, messy hair, black sleeveless shirt, black pants, bare arms, close-up, from above, dutch angle, bathroom, dim light, single light source, tile wall, cold blue palette, wet cheeks Shot from above at a slight dutch tilt, in a close-up that crops him at mid-thigh, so the camera looks down on the back of his bowed head and his shoulders: Bakugou is kneeling on the cold tile floor of a small bathroom, doubled over with his forehead nearly at his knees, weight sunk back onto his heels with both knees taking it and his hips rolled back — not seated, just folded down around the ache. His right hand is jammed flat and knuckled against his lower stomach through the black sleeveless shirt, fingers spread and pressing in hard enough to dimple the fabric; his left hand clamps a thick fluffy white bath towel over the lower half of his face, the terry loops crushed and bunched between his fingers, one corner of it hanging down past his chin and trailing onto the floor. His eyes are squeezed shut, lashes wet and clumped, deep red rims and puffy lower lids, and two long clean tear tracks run from the outer corners of both eyes down to his jaw, the skin around his nose and upper lip rubbed raw and shiny. A fresh thread of clear fluid glistens at the edge of his nostril just above the towel's hem, and his shoulders are caught mid-sniff, hunched up around his ears, chest still on an inhale. His ash-blond spiked hair is flattened on the left side where he has been lying against something and stands up in damp erratic tufts everywhere else, a few strands stuck to his wet cheek. The tile wall runs up behind him out of focus; the only light is a single bare bulb above and slightly behind him, so it strikes the crown of his head, the tops of his shoulders and the upper nap of the towel, and his face is in its own soft shadow with the darkness pooling under the sink and in the corners behind him — nothing else in the room is lit. Palette is cold: the white of the towel and the tile against the black of his clothes, the red of his eyes and nose, and the wet gleam on his skin the only warmth. The towel's terry surface catches the bulb in tiny broken highlights along the bunched folds where his fingers crush it. Miserable, raw.
Princess Diani The FNAF Gal 2000

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