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深夜中一位治安官正在打发时间。虽然充满抱怨，但她仍然留在这里。

深夜中一位治安官正在打发时间。虽然充满抱怨，但她仍然留在这里。 AI art by waaaaagh on PixAI. Tags: Tights, sitting, Multicolored hair, School Uniform. Made with Tsubaki.3.

好喜歡這種帶點慵懶又帥氣的氛圍！看著她坐在吧台前輕啜飲料的模樣，真的讓我完全著迷於她那種獨特的成熟魅力。如果你也喜歡這張作品，請幫我點個讚並追蹤，歡迎在評論區跟我聊聊你的想法，我會繼續努力創作的！

Contest Entry

PixAI × zeta Original Character Creation Contest 2026

#Tights #sitting #Multicolored hair #School Uniform #Crossed legs #Girl #Drinking Straw #Lace-up boots

Published on Nov 1, 2026

waaaaagh

More to See

1girl, solo, profile, from side, cowboy shot, upper body portrait, sitting sideways on high bar stool, chin resting on hand, hand on own chin, pocky in mouth, pocky stick, gazing forward, looking to the side, thoughtful, melancholic, jitome, half-closed eyes, calm cool demeanor, long straight black hair, orange hair streaks, black hair streaks, face-framing streaks, amber eyes, dark navy blue police uniform jacket, structured notched lapels, police badge on chest, neat necktie, grey pleated skirt, black pantyhose, sheer stockings, tall black lace-up combat boots, dark wooden bar counter, glass of sparkling water, bubbles, dimly lit bar, atmospheric moody lighting, deep shadows, cinematic lighting, cool tones, high contrast, retro anime style, bold color blocking, graphic shadows, A cinematic side-profile portrait, the camera level with her and set slightly forward of her so that she reads in clean silhouette from temple to jaw to throat, her upper body filling the frame while the bar counter and the stool run out of the bottom edge. She sits sideways on a tall bar stool turned so her right shoulder angles toward the counter and her chest faces the viewer's left; her weight is carried on her right hip against the seat pad, her left leg crossed over her right at the knee, both boots hanging clear of the floor with the toe of the upper boot pointing down and inward. A slim pocky stick is pinched between her lips, tilted about twenty degrees above horizontal, its bare end pointing out past her chin into the shadow; her right elbow is planted on the dark wooden counter on a small folded napkin, forearm vertical, and her chin is set into the cup of her right palm with her fingers curled loosely along her jaw and her cheek slightly compressed against the heel of her hand. Her left hand lies flat on her grey pleated skirt over her thigh, pleats collapsing in a fan where her fingers press them. She looks forward into the middle distance of the room, away from the camera, eyes half-lidded and amber with a soft catchlight, lips closed around the pocky with the corners drawn slightly down, breathing shallow, one slow blink held just short of finishing — quiet, cool, sorrowful without any display of it. Her hair falls in one heavy straight sheet across the near side of her profile, the face-framing streaks — a band of burnt orange and a band of black — running cleanly down beside her cheekbone to her collarbone, while a few strands catch on the edge of her palm and are pushed back by it. The navy jacket is buttoned low, its structured notched lapels folded back sharp and flat over the chest, the tiny badge pinned at the left breast catching a thin gold gleam at its rim; the neat tie sits centered and straight in the collar with one small dimple below the knot. Below the counter line the grey pleated skirt rides over her crossed thigh, and the sheer black stockings read as a soft dark gradient over her shins with a faint sheen down the front and a darker tone at the backs of the calves; the tall combat boots climb to mid-calf in matte black leather with rows of laces laddering up the tongues and a scuffed toe box. The bar around her is nearly dark: bottle silhouettes stand in rows on a shelf behind the counter, their glass catching only thin vertical highlights, and the room's far side dissolves into black. One warm pendant lamp hangs above the counter behind her shoulder, and it is the only light source — it rims the top of her hair in gold, lays a narrow warm stroke along the bridge of her nose, her cheekbone, the top edge of the pocky and the polished lapel line, and leaves her eyes and the underside of her jaw in cool shadow; a hard-edged shadow of her head and shoulder falls across the counter toward the camera. The glass of sparkling water sits on the dark wood just past her elbow, near the frame edge, the only truly bright object: fine bubbles cling in a ring around the inner wall and climb in thin threads, and the water casts a small wavering caustic of light onto the countertop beside its base. The wood's grain runs under a dull sheen, and the whole image holds to a muted olive-and-brass palette — deep green-black shadow, warm brass-gold light along the counter and her hair, aged olive in the jacket's shadowed folds, pale cream where the light touches the glass, and her skin kept in dusty peach and pale tan rather than pink — graphic black shapes and flat saturated blocks with crisp cel edges, nostalgic moody film-still atmosphere.

深夜中一位治安官正在打发时间。虽然充满抱怨，但她仍然留在这里。

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