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cap tangan AI Art & Prompts

Explore the trending 749 cap tangan artworks

AI artwork
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character: rem_(re:zero), ram_(re:zero) 2girls, rem_(re:zero), ram_(re:zero), school uniform, art room, plastic pool, inflatable pool, playing in pool, paint play, body paint, blue paint, red paint, paint splatter, paint on face, paint on hair, paint-covered, completely covered in paint, paint inside eyes, colored sclera, blue sclera, red sclera, fingers in eye, finger stab, touching eye, each other's eyes, wet hair, hair lifted up, hair held up, hand in hair, short hair, blue hair, pink hair, red eyes, blue eyes, hair ornament, hair over one eye, knee-length skirt, white shirt, ribbon tie, sitting in pool, kneeling, leaning forward, arms extended, looking at another, open mouth, grin, teeth, from above, high angle, close-up, cowboy shot, dutch angle, barefoot, water splashing, paint dripping, wet clothes, dripping paint, standing water, reflection High-angle three-quarter view from above and slightly to the right, looking down into a shallow inflated vinyl wading pool set on the scuffed wooden floor of a school art room, so the white-and-blue rim of the pool bites across the lower third of the frame and the two girls sit inside it at its far side. On the left of the pool sits Rem: short blue hair lifted up off her neck and held in a dripping bundle by her own raised left hand, her school uniform shirt plastered translucent and blue-stained to her shoulders, dark knee-length skirt fanned across the wet vinyl floor of the pool, blue ribbon at her collar gone limp with water, her right arm extended straight toward the other girl, the index and middle fingers of that hand pressed knuckle-deep into Ram's left eye. On the right of the pool kneels Ram: short pink hair also pressed up and back by her free hand, pink ribbon askew against her ear, her white shirt caked with red paint down the front, the wet fabric clinging at her collarbone and the hem riding up over her hip; her left arm reaches back toward Rem and her two fingers are sunk into Rem's right eye. Their faces are close, their heads tipped toward each other so the two extended arms cross in the middle of the pool and the two hands enter the two faces at nearly the same instant, the fingers of each hand hooking just inside the other's eyelid and pushing the lid squashed up over the knuckle. Their eyes are wide open and straining: Rem's right eye has its iris drowned in a thin run of blue so the pale sclera is shallowly tinted and the pupil floats in a blue stain, while her left eye, unobstructed, looks straight ahead at Ram with a corner squinted from the pressure; Ram's left eye is flooded a wet crimson that pools at the lower lid and runs down over her cheekbone in one red thread, and her right eye stays fixed on Rem, wide with a grin at the corners, mouth open, one canine showing, no trace of pain in the grin even as her brow knits from the pressure of the fingers. Each of their free hands keeps the other's hair lifted: strands pulled taut, wet with both colours, hanging as blue-on-one-side and red-on-the-other—each girl's raised hair carries the other's colour at its tips. Paint is the whole palette and it obeys them: the cool blue and the warm vermilion-red are the only two coloured substances in the picture, and everything else—the white uniform shirts, the pale vinyl, the wooden floor, the plaster wall—takes its colour only by being stained. Red runs in creeping fingers down Ram's chin and spatters in a fine spume across the inner wall of the pool; blue drips from the wet end of Rem's hair bundle and each drop lands in a paddle of shallow water and blooms in a blue cloud that cannot yet mix with the red. Thin blue handprints and red handprints streak the outside vinyl of the pool and the floorboards beyond it, and two sets of red and blue footprints lead away from a knocked-over tray of poster paint jars. Rids of water run down the inside of the vinyl wall, heavier and darker where the surface bulges, and a handful of brushes lie half-submerged with their handles floating. The room behind is an art room seen from the high angle: three easels with half-finished canvases turned away, a long palette-stained wooden table edge across the far top corner, a stack of stools, and a bank of tall windows in the upper right that yield the light. The window light is the only source—cool, flat, afternoon daylight that comes in low and long from the right, laying a pale parallelogram across the floor and catching every wet bead, each splash and each eye's painted gleam, while the left side of the pool, the near rim and the space beneath the two bodies fall into a soft cool shadow where no bead sparkles. Small physics: where each girl's toes press the wet vinyl floor of the pool, the wall bulges outward at exactly the same height on both sides, and the water level tilts to each of their sways. Wide-angle closeness, one or two paint flecks caught in the air right before the hand, absorbed, uneasy, playful.
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AI artwork
Avatar image of Prodigal Sun
copyright: rpg_maker detailed_style, clean_precise_lineart, smooth_soft_shading, gentle_gradients, highly_detailed, high_quality, detailed_eyes, detailed_hair, purgatory_art_style, classic rpg maker aesthetic, Solo, fantasy-setting, crone in background, Sometimes, a Proximus stirs into a dream, standing at the cusp of an Awakening. The symbols of the Supernal — the Bless- ings of their Dynasty — flare into their sight and they are left to either overcome their quest or turn away and forever lose the opportunity. However, for a Proximus there is a third option. By neither turning away from the sym- bols nor pursuing it, their soul becomes a beacon (some would even say, dinner bell) for something else, causing an intercession. Soon, the symbols of the Supernal are obscured by a foggy mist, and the sounds of monsters are heard ap- proaching from every side. What was supposed to be an Awakening quickly becomes a night- mare as the Proximus is left with one goal. Survive. Whether by flight, fight, or cunning, if the Proximus lasts long enough against the horrors traveling throughout the Mists, they’ll find themselves at the base of a large wall, covered in the same symbols that beset them at the start of their waking dream. Some may hear a voice, others just an urge, but what- ever it is, it calls them to leave a symbol of their own. When they do, the stone shifts inward, beckoning the Prox- imus inside the newly formed cave. The next time they awaken, it is as some- thing inhuman, bearing a monster with aspects reminiscent of their bloodline in place of a soul. They are a Beast, but more Awakened than they were before and far more dangerous. These deviations come in two known manifestations — Crones and Wyrms. Wyrms Wyrms are the arcane dragons and cyclo- pean sorcerers of the Begotten, creatures with both raw physical might and domineering mag- ical skill. While they lack in other Beasts’ subtle Nightmares, they make up for it by com- bining Supernal magic with the Atavisms of the Horror, with a preference for those Bless- ings of the Mind Arcanum.
Prodigal Sun

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