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AI art "スッ" featuring #Male, #Outdoors, #Smile, #Motorcycle, #Boy, #full body and #Mountain
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スッ

#Male#Outdoors#Smile#Motorcycle#Boy#full body#Mountain
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jyagainu

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(1990s anime illustration:1.4), A heroic black-haired boy with a small nose and hair tied in a ponytail is in a dynamic action pose, heroically jumping from the ground on a rugged mountain plateau. He wears a classic desert traveler outfit of a tan jacket, cargo pants, and bandana. His capsule-style motorcycle is parked nearby, its design futuristic yet sleek. A small, friendly dinosaur companion, like a baby raptor, looks up at him from beside the motorcycle. The landscape is a vast, detailed plateau with distant, snow-capped peaks under a golden-hour sky with dramatic clouds. The scene has a dynamic composition and detailed background, capturing a moment of adventure and determination, masterfully illustrated with a retro anime feel and vibrant colors.
Show Parameters
Quality Tag
high quality, year_2025, year_2024, ﹝Prompts﹞
Size
768 x 1280
Sampling Steps
16
Sampling Method
Euler
CFG Scale
6.599999904632568
Negative
bad quality, low quality, worst quality, lowres, nsfw, jpeg artifacts, scan artifacts, mosaic, cropped, error, fewer digits, bad reflection, bad composition, bad anatomy, bad hands, bad fingers, missing fingers, extra hands, extra legs, excess fingers, light particles, artist name, text, watermark, username, copyright name

Model & LoRA used

Tsubaki - AI Model cover image

PixAI DiT.1

Tsubaki
8.75k

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character: son_goku 2 boys, son goku, vegeta, spiked black hair, tall upswept flame-like hair, widow's peak, orange and blue tracksuit, black and orange tracksuit jacket, track pants, sneakers, riding a sports bike, racing, leaning into a turn, knee down, full-face helmet pushed up, visor up, gripping handlebars, from below, dutch angle, foreshortening, motion blur on the road, speed lines, gritted teeth, competitive grin, looking at another, side-by-side, daytime, empty mountain highway Seen from below and canted on a dutch angle, a low camera hugs the asphalt as two sports bikes bank hard through a sweeping right-hand mountain curve, the near bike filling the lower left of frame in foreshortened perspective while the second machine cuts in a half-length behind and slightly above on the outside of the line. On the near bike, the black-haired rider with tall upswept flame-shaped hair sits crouched low over the tank, both gloved hands wrapped tight around the clip-on bars, right wrist rolled forward on the throttle, torso folded so his chest almost touches the fuel tank and his head tilts up just past the windscreen lip; his full-face helmet is shoved back on his skull with the visor flipped up so his face is open to the rushing air, brows pulled hard down over dark eyes, mouth split in a wide clenched grin of effort. His orange and blue tracksuit jacket, glossy nylon, whips and snaps behind his shoulders in the slipstream, the blue collar fluttering at his throat, and the orange track pants with their blue side stripe bunch at the knee where his inside leg hangs off the peg, boot toe skimming a hand's width above the tarmac. Behind and to his right, the second rider with the sharp widow's-peak hairline and hair standing straight up in a stiff crest pushes his bike harder still, hanging off the inside with his hip clear of the seat, one knee thrust out toward the apex, one hand firm on the right bar and the other hooked low near the tank; his black and orange tracksuit jacket is zipped to the chin, sleeves taut along his forearms, matching track pants snapping at the ankle, helmet visor up too, and his jaw is set, one eyebrow cocked, eyes cutting sideways under the brow to lock on the other rider with a flat challenging glare. The near rider's gaze flicks off the road for a fraction of a second toward him, teeth still bared, and both machines lean at the same angle, tires pressed into the same dark ribbon of rubber. The road is a wide empty two-lane mountain highway with a painted white edge line running diagonally out of the lower right corner, guardrail and dry grass banking away on the left, sparse trees and the pale haze of a valley beyond; the lean of the bikes pulls the whole horizon into a slanted line. Midday sun sits high and slightly behind the pair, so hard shadows drop straight down and short beneath the wheels, the chrome and the visor glass flare with hot specular hits, and the asphalt reads matte grey and dry except for the faint darker polish along the racing line. Motion blur streaks the road surface and the guardrail while the riders stay sharp, and the loose nylon of the tracksuits lifts away from the bodies in the direction of travel. Palette of hot midday white, road-surface grey, and the riders' orange and blue against black and orange, nothing else admitted. Bright, breakneck, gleeful.
Damn man
#Dragon Ball#Dragon Ball Z#Vegeta
AI artwork
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character: son_goku 2 boys, son goku, vegeta, spiked black hair, tall upswept flame-like hair, widow's peak, orange and blue tracksuit, black and orange tracksuit jacket, track pants, sneakers, riding a sports bike, racing, leaning into a turn, knee down, full-face helmet pushed up, visor up, gripping handlebars, from below, dutch angle, foreshortening, motion blur on the road, speed lines, gritted teeth, competitive grin, looking at another, side-by-side, daytime, empty mountain highway Seen from below and canted on a dutch angle, a low camera hugs the asphalt as two sports bikes bank hard through a sweeping right-hand mountain curve, the near bike filling the lower left of frame in foreshortened perspective while the second machine cuts in a half-length behind and slightly above on the outside of the line. On the near bike, the black-haired rider with tall upswept flame-shaped hair sits crouched low over the tank, both gloved hands wrapped tight around the clip-on bars, right wrist rolled forward on the throttle, torso folded so his chest almost touches the fuel tank and his head tilts up just past the windscreen lip; his full-face helmet is shoved back on his skull with the visor flipped up so his face is open to the rushing air, brows pulled hard down over dark eyes, mouth split in a wide clenched grin of effort. His orange and blue tracksuit jacket, glossy nylon, whips and snaps behind his shoulders in the slipstream, the blue collar fluttering at his throat, and the orange track pants with their blue side stripe bunch at the knee where his inside leg hangs off the peg, boot toe skimming a hand's width above the tarmac. Behind and to his right, the second rider with the sharp widow's-peak hairline and hair standing straight up in a stiff crest pushes his bike harder still, hanging off the inside with his hip clear of the seat, one knee thrust out toward the apex, one hand firm on the right bar and the other hooked low near the tank; his black and orange tracksuit jacket is zipped to the chin, sleeves taut along his forearms, matching track pants snapping at the ankle, helmet visor up too, and his jaw is set, one eyebrow cocked, eyes cutting sideways under the brow to lock on the other rider with a flat challenging glare. The near rider's gaze flicks off the road for a fraction of a second toward him, teeth still bared, and both machines lean at the same angle, tires pressed into the same dark ribbon of rubber. The road is a wide empty two-lane mountain highway with a painted white edge line running diagonally out of the lower right corner, guardrail and dry grass banking away on the left, sparse trees and the pale haze of a valley beyond; the lean of the bikes pulls the whole horizon into a slanted line. Midday sun sits high and slightly behind the pair, so hard shadows drop straight down and short beneath the wheels, the chrome and the visor glass flare with hot specular hits, and the asphalt reads matte grey and dry except for the faint darker polish along the racing line. Motion blur streaks the road surface and the guardrail while the riders stay sharp, and the loose nylon of the tracksuits lifts away from the bodies in the direction of travel. Palette of hot midday white, road-surface grey, and the riders' orange and blue against black and orange, nothing else admitted. Bright, breakneck, gleeful.
Damn man
#Dragon Ball#Dragon Ball Z#Vegeta

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