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Tisu Galeri

Jelajahi karya seni 187 Tisu yang sedang tren

AI artwork
pd
character: bakugou_katsuki, midoriya_izuku 1boy, solo, bakugou katsuki, blonde hair, spiked hair, red eyes, crying, crying loudly, streaming tears, tears, wet face, blotchy face, red nose, ugly crying, closed mouth, clenched teeth, silent, too upset to speak, airline cabin, airplane interior, window seat, looking down, hunched over, shoulders shaking, hands gripping knees, tissue box on lap, blowing nose, holding tissue to nose, honk, wet, congested, thought bubble, midoriya izuku, green hair, green eyes, memory, profile, from side, cowboy shot, day, overcast light through window, muted palette, dieselpunk no, realistic no, cel shaded Viewed from the side in a cramped economy cabin, one blonde-haired young man in a bare black undershirt and black pants sits jammed into a window seat, hunched forward so his spiky blonde hair nearly brushes the seatback in front of him, both elbows on his knees, both hands gripping a crumpled tissue box that rests across his thighs; his face is turned three-quarters away from the cabin toward the window, tears sliding down his cheeks in continuous threads, catching the flat grey daylight pouring through the oval window, his chin tucked, mouth shut tight with the jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumps, eyes squeezed half-shut and streaming, nostrils red and shiny from weeping — no speech bubble anywhere, he says nothing, the silence is the point. From the seat cushion beneath him a slight compression is visible where his weight sinks, and his shoulders tremble with each ragged silent breath. Floating above and behind his head, a cloud-shaped thought bubble with a scalloped border is tethered by three small ascending circles toward his temple; inside it, rendered in full colour and clear cut, a green-haired young man in a green bodysuit stands facing forward with a worried, earnest expression, arms a little out, as though speaking to Bakugou from inside his own head; the bubble sits high in the frame, its lower curve overlapping the top of the headrest, and no one in the cabin but Bakugou sees it. In the empty cabin, rows of blue-grey seats stretch away in perspective behind him, all vacant, tray tables up, overhead bins shut, the aisle floor catching a dull strip of window light; the only light source is the overcast sky through that one window, cool and low, laying a rectangular highlight across Bakugou's cheekbone, the tissue box, and the near edge of the seat, leaving the rest of the cabin in soft shadow with no bright patches. Palette of cool greys, navy seat fabric and the blonde and green that are the only saturated notes. In the next beat his hands crush the tissue up to his face and he blows with a huge wet honking blast — a squashed, crumpled tissue pressed over his nose and mouth, cheeks puffed, eyes shut hard, and beside his nose a bold jagged onomatopoeia in thick black brush lettering reading "HONK" with a wet spray of small droplets arcing toward the window, droplets catching the window light. Quiet grief, absurdly tender.
Princess Diani The FNAF Gal 2000
AI artwork
Avatar image of Kiki
pov, from below, looking up, 1girl, young woman, wavy light brown hair, wide teary eyes, crying, tears streaming down face, reddened eyelids, trembling lips, remorse, guilty expression, distressed, leaning forward, hovering over viewer, hands on viewer, holding cloth to forehead, comforting, oversized knit cardigan, car interior, back seat, enclosed space, vehicle interior light, warm lighting, first aid kit, roll of tape, folded blanket, locked car door, rain-streaked window, night, secluded, claustrophobic Point-of-view framing looking directly upward from a reclined position across the cushioned rear bench seat of an automobile. Leaning low over the viewer, a distressed young woman with shoulder-length wavy light brown hair and wide, wet hazel eyes hovers closely, her torso angled forward so that loose strands of hair drape past her shoulders. Her face is pale and crumpled with overwhelming guilt, her brows drawn upward in pain, lower eyelids swollen red, and fresh tears actively running down her cheeks to collect at the point of her trembling chin. With shaking, gentle hands, she presses a folded damp white cloth tenderly against the viewer's bruised forehead, while her other palm rests soothingly atop the thick wool blanket bundled over the viewer’s chest, her gaze locked pleadingly into the viewer's eyes. Beside her hip on the dark upholstery, an opened first-aid kit spills rolls of sterile gauze across the cushions, resting alongside a heavy roll of duct tape and vehicle keys tossed in frantic haste. The car doors remain shut with the lock pins visibly pushed down into their sills. Illumination comes entirely from the small overhead dome lamp, casting a warm golden spotlight over the crown of her head, the glossy sheen of her tear tracks, and the knuckles of her hands, leaving the vehicle footwells and rear glass in deep, shadowed darkness. Outside the tinted rear window, rain streams downward in narrow parallel rivulets, blurring the distant sodium-orange glare of an empty roadside into soft ambient bokeh. Desperate, remorseful tenderness.
Kiki

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