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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Opublikowano Oct 29, 2026

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1girl, solo, japanese schoolgirl, long dark hair, straight dark hair, navy sailor uniform, serafuku, white-lined sailor collar, navy pleated skirt, doubling over, bent forward, vomiting, watery vomit, vomit splash, puddle on asphalt, scattered droplets, hand on own knee, other hand holding own hair back, hair held up, flushed cheeks, pale skin, sickly pallor, tears welling up, brimming tears, upturned eyebrows, sweat on temple, sweatdrop, open mouth, gasping, panting, low three-quarter angle, from below, cowboy shot, knees-up framing, shallow depth of field, blurred background, commuter bus in background, exhaust haze, morning, cool light, long shadows, roadside, asphalt, daylight, cinematic lighting The camera sits low at a three-quarter angle, below her hip line and slightly to her left, looking up so the navy pleated skirt and the white-lined collar of the serafuku fill the lower and middle frame while the empty sky and the soft blur of the street open above her; the shot is cropped at the knees, her shoes and a single forearm resting across one knee anchoring the bottom edge. She is folded over sharply at the waist, spine curled, weight dumped onto her left leg while the right knee is bent and thrust forward for balance, and her right hand clamps the right knee from above, fingers spread and pressing hard enough to crease the skirt fabric. Her left arm crosses up past her cheek to gather a thick fistful of her long dark hair at the crown and pull it back clear of her face, the hair trailing down behind her shoulder and swinging loosely at its ends; a few strands have slipped free and lie across her damp temple. Her face is turned down and to her right, chin dropped, so the camera catches her in three-quarter profile as she heaves: mouth open in a wet gasp, lips drawn back, upturned brows knotted at the inner corners, eyes squeezed half shut with tears pooled along the lower lids and one already sliding down to her jaw, a fine sheen of sweat at her temple catching the light, and her cheeks blooming hot pink over a sallow, bloodless pallor that runs down her throat. A thin, watery stream of vomit arcs from her mouth and breaks on the asphalt just in front of her shoes, splashing outward into a small shallow puddle ringed with scattered droplets, one or two beaded on the toe of her loafer; a couple of strands of hair hang free toward the puddle but the holding hand keeps them clear. The light is cool and blue-grey, coming low from the right and long behind her, so her shadow stretches away left across the rough asphalt and the puddle throws a stretched, broken highlight where the sky reflects in it; the road surface shows damp dark patches and a scatter of grit, the curb and a strip of grass running away at the frame edge. Behind her, the flank of the commuter bus is a soft grey-blue smear, its windows and wheel arches unreadable in the blur, a faint exhaust haze hanging in the air between the bus and the girl and softening the far street into pale bands. Everything behind her shoulders falls into shallow-focus blur; her face, her gripping hand, the held hair and the splash on the ground stay razor-sharp. Palette limited to navy, white, cool grey asphalt and the pink-and-pale flush of her skin. Quiet, raw and tender.

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