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AI artwork featuring #My Hero Academia: Akademia bohaterów and #Katsuki Bakugo
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Katsuki Bakugo, My Hero Academia: Akademia bohaterów

#My Hero Academia: Akademia bohaterów#Katsuki Bakugo
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character: bakugou_katsuki 1boy, solo, bakugou katsuki, blonde spiked short hair, red eyes, black pants, black shirt, bare feet, bathroom, tiled bathroom floor, kneeling on floor, hunched forward, one hand clutching stomach, other hand pressed to tile, crying, streaming tears, wailing, open mouth, screaming, wordless holler, closed eyes, scrunched face, grimace of pain, stomachache, vomit on floor, vomit puddle, saliva trail from mouth, runny nose, tissue at nose, blowing nose, exhausted, drained expression, half-closed eyes, red-rimmed puffy eyes, dark circles, sweat, trembling, from above, high angle, dutch angle, close-up, dim bathroom light, night The camera looks steeply down from above and slightly to the side, tilted a few degrees off level, so the small tiled bathroom floor fills most of the frame and the figure crouched on it is compressed, foreshortened, his hunched back and the crown of his spiked blond head nearest the lens while his face tips up toward it. He is down on both knees on the pale tiles, weight sagged onto his heels, thighs folded under him; his left hand is jammed hard into his belly, fingers dug in through the black shirt fabric, knuckles pale, and his right arm is braced straight, palm flat on the tile in front of him taking his weight. Between the braced hand and his knees spreads a glossy pool of vomit, wet and yellow-flecked, its edge creeping along the grout seams and pooling deepest in the shallow dips of the tile, a thin string of it still hanging from his lower lip. He is caught in the middle of one of the hollers: mouth torn wide open, jaw thrust forward, no words in it, tongue visible, throat working; tears stream down both cheeks and off his chin, and his eyes are squeezed shut and swollen, lids puffy and blood-red at the rims, a smear of snot shining under his nose. His brow is crushed down and his face is blotchy and wet all over, breath ragged. In his right hand, half-crumpled against his nose, is a wad of toilet paper already soaked through, caught just after a honk, his nostrils flared and his cheeks still compressed with the effort; two more sodden crumpled wads lie on the floor beside his knee. His spiked hair is flattened on one side and stuck to his damp forehead. Cold overhead bathroom light comes from a single fixture above and behind the camera, so his cast shadow falls forward and short across the tiles, the vomit pool catching a hot highlight on its crown and a second blurred reflection of the bulb; the corners of the room beyond him sink into grey darkness. Palette is clinical bathroom white and grey tile against the warm blond of his hair, the raw red of his eyes and nose, and the wet ochre of the mess, nothing else admitted. Hours of it are legible in the crumpled tissues, the dried white rings higher up the tile where earlier puddles evaporated, and the way his body has stopped fighting and simply sagged. Wretched, spent.
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Oryginalny prompt
Katsuki Bakugou wailing in the bathroom loudly while he's too upset to say anything and then lets out a wordless holler a ton of times while his stomachache doesn't get any better and then burping out a ton of vomit on the floor a ton of times and then blowing his nose with a loud, wet, congested honk a ton of times hours later while exhausted from crying and vomiting
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pro
Tag jakości
﹝Podpowiedzi﹞
Rozmiar
1104 x 1824
Niepożądane
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit
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pd
character: bakugou_katsuki 1boy, solo, bakugou katsuki, short spiked ash-blonde hair flattened and stuck to his forehead with sweat, red eyes swollen and rimmed puffy from hours of crying, tear streaks, distressed expression, congested miserable face, mouth open wailing, crying loudly, clutching his stomach, holding stomach in pain, doubled over, shoulders hunched, kneeling on bathroom floor, torso twisted toward the toilet bowl, one hand clamped over his belly, other hand pressing a wadded clump of toilet paper to his nose, blowing his nose, tears, snot, exhausted, evidence of vomiting, large pile of toilet paper, crumpled toilet paper balls scattered on the tiles, bathroom, tiled wall, toilet bowl, from above, high angle, close-up, dim bathroom light, cold greenish-white fluorescent tube, intimate Seen from high above and slightly behind his right shoulder, Katsuki Bakugou is on his knees on a cold pale-grey tiled bathroom floor, doubled over with his forehead dipped low so the crown of his flattened spiked ash-blonde hair faces the camera and sweat-damp strands hang loose at his temples. His dark trousers are creased hard across the backs of his thighs and one bare heel is lifted off the tiles, the whole weight of him settled on the knee pressed against the floor seam. Both red eyes are swollen almost shut with crying, the rims puffy and raw, and fresh tears slide down his cheeks and hang at his jaw; his brow is dragged inward and up, the face of someone who has been sick all night. His right arm is pulled tight across his middle, fingers dug hard into the front of his shirt over his stomach, knuckles pale, the fabric bunched and twisted in the grip. His left hand holds a thick, messy clump of toilet paper pressed fully over his nose and mouth, and he is caught mid-honk into it: the paper crumples and flares outward at its edges, one corner lifting, his shoulders drawn up around his ears, the bridge of his nose visibly crushed into the wad. Around his knees, a huge drift of toilet paper has accumulated — a torn, unbalanced tower beside the toilet base, a burred roll upended on the floor, a long unraveled ribbon trailing across the tiles, and dozens of soaked, crumpled balls within arm's reach, half of them crowded right against his knees and the toes of his bare feet. Behind him the tiled wall rises out of the frame and the rim of the toilet bowl cuts in at the left edge, its water faintly discolored. The only light is a single cold greenish-white fluorescent tube overhead; it strikes the downward-facing surfaces — the angled tops of his shoulders, the crown of his head, the scattered white paper — so the paper reads brightest in the picture while his face beneath the hair falls into shadow and the wetness on his cheeks catches thin highlights. Shadows pool under his knees and beneath each crumpled ball. Palette is limited to cold tile white, shallow green, dulled ash-blonde and the raw pink-red of his crying eyes. The sour steam still fogging the lower tile and a faint damp sheen on the porcelain record the long night of vomiting and crying. Miserable, tenderly pathetic.
Princess Diani The FNAF Gal 2000
AI artwork
pd
character: bakugou_katsuki 1boy, solo, bakugou katsuki, blonde spiked hair, short hair, red eyes, angry red eyes, misery, closed one eye, tear, sweat drop, snot, messy, wet hair, hunched over, leaning forward, shoulders raised, kneeling, upper body close-up, from above, from side, dutch angle, holding tissue, tissue to nose, blowing nose, pinched nose, crumpled tissue, bare hands, gloved hands, black shirt, no sleeves, black pants, open mouth, grimace, blush, snot bubble, sneeze, ahoge bounce, Shot from a high three-quarter angle above and slightly to his side, a single figure -- a young man with short, spiked-up blonde hair and red eyes -- hunched forward in a low crouch, both knees bent under him, weight pitched onto his back foot so his whole upper body juts toward the frame. He is caught in the loud, tiny, squeaking mid-exhale of a sneeze on the third rapid burst: chin tucked, nose pinched, eyes squeezed shut, one brow crushed down in a scowl of pure misery. A gooey strand of snot hangs from his nostril and clings across his upper lip and cheek, and fresh bright smears bloom over the black sleeveless shirt stretched tight across his chest and across the bare flesh of his forearms. His hands are bare and his knuckles pinch a crumpled wad of tissue hard against his nostrils, already soaked, clinging to the sides of his nose and the tips of his fingers. Then his face wrenches harder: a loud, wet, congested honk blasts out as he bears down into the tissue, eyes snapping shut and nose scrunching and one tear leaking out from the corner of his eye. Around the tissue's edge the fabric of it bulges and deforms from the force of the blow. The scene is set against a plain blurred interior wall in cool grey with a low lamplight raking in from the upper left, so the shadow of his bowed head and hunched shoulders stretches across the floor in the opposite direction. The tissue and its wet halo shine a pale highlight, and the air around it seems dense and damp with each shivering sneeze. The palette is limited to the cold grey of the room, the red of his eyes and flushed cheeks, the warm pink splotch of wet tissue, and the black of his clothing. Everything in the frame exists to serve that one sneeze-blasted, congested, aching moment.
Princess Diani The FNAF Gal 2000
AI artwork
pd
character: bakugou_katsuki 1boy, solo, bakugou katsuki, short spiked blonde hair, red eyes, sitting on toilet, sitting, forward lean, elbows on thighs, hunched shoulders, lower body clothed, black pants, pants on, fully dressed lower half, knees apart, bare forearms, no gloves, hands holding bunched brown paper towels, both hands pressed to nose and mouth, brown paper towels, many crumpled brown paper towels, used paper towels, crumpled paper wads at his feet, sneezing, mid-sneeze, scrunched nose, squeezed-shut eyes, tears at eye corners, watering eyes, flushed red nose, red nose tip, blush across cheeks, open mouth, gritted teeth, grimace, annoyed, irritated, pout, raised eyebrow, furrowed brow, from side, profile, cowboy shot, bathroom, tiled bathroom, indoor, harsh ceiling light, cold fluorescent light, steam, closed bathroom door, toilet tank, toilet bowl, clenched thighs, leaning forward, wet paper towels, allergy, // the frame is a tight side profile, cowboy shot, cut just below his knees; the lens sits at seated eye level and slightly to his left, so the toilet bowl fills the lower-right corner and the tiled wall recedes behind him. He is hunched forward over his own lap, thighs together and knees pressed inward, hips planted on the seat lid behind him, both heels hooked down to the tile floor; his black pants are pulled up and fastened, the fabric wrinkling at the hip crease and drawn taut across his bent knees. Both hands are clamped in front of his face, pressing a thick wad of brown paper towels -- far too much of it, a whole fistful of coarse institutional sheets, still folded in overlapping layers -- across his nose and upper lip, the paper dimpling around his fingertips. The wad muffles a huge, wet, congested honk that visibly buckles his shoulders, and the same moment catches a tiny aftershock sneeze: his nose is chafed raw and red beneath the paper edge, his right eye screwed shut while the left squints half-open, lashes clumped and wet at the corner, a single slow tear tracked down his cheek and along his jaw. A half-dozen already-used brown paper wads lie crushed on the floor between his feet, the nearest one splayed open and darker where it soaked through. Above him, a mirror-less tiled wall; behind him, the toilet tank with a small crumpled towel on the lid. The only light source is the bare bathroom fixture overhead, throwing cold white light down the crown of his head and the tops of his shoulders, sharpening the spikes of his hair into three distinct points, catching the wet gleam of his nose and the paper's coarse tooth, and dropping a hard shadow of his bowed head onto his own chest and forearms; beyond the light's reach toward the door the tiles fall into a flat grey dim. Palette restrained to cold white tile, brown kraft paper, and the feverish red of his nose, cheeks and eyes, with his black pants anchoring the bottom third. The paper towels sag under their own wetness at the center of the wad, the outer sheets still dry and holding shape -- a small single-variable truth that tells how much he has already used. Miserable, comic.
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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