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AI artwork featuring #Fate series, #Fate/Grand Order, #Scáthach, #Ritsuka Fujimaru (Male), #Polar Chaldea Uniform and #zetaCollab
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Scáthach, Ritsuka Fujimaru (Male)

Contest Entry
PixAI × zeta Original Character Creation Contest 2026 #zetaCollab
#Fate series#Fate/Grand Order#Scáthach#Ritsuka Fujimaru (Male)#Polar Chaldea Uniform
じ

じゅうばんめ

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character: scathach_(fate), fujimaru_ritsuka_(male) 2girls, 1boy, 2people, scathach_\(fate\), fujimaru_ritsuka_\(male\), very_long_hair, purple_hair, red_eyes, short_hair, black_hair, hair_between_eyes, blue_eyes, hugging, embrace, mutual embrace, blushing, heavy blush, embarrassed, flustered, panicked, gazing at each other, eye contact, locker, inside locker, closed locker door, see-through locker door, translucent door, visible through door, face focus, close-up, upper body, from side, profile, cramped space, sweatdrop, tension lines The camera looks in through the locker door from just outside it, framing both faces at close range in a tight side-on two-shot: the flat metal door is shut and latched, and its slightly translucent panel lets the whole lit interior read through it, so the pale door surface and its vent slats sit as a faint grid laid over the two of them. Inside, they are pressed chest to chest in the narrow locker — she is the taller one, her back against the left wall with one shoulder blade flat to the metal, very long purple hair crushed behind her and spilling over the shelf edge; he is crowded in against the right wall, his own shoulder wedged where the walls meet, one hand flat on the metal beside her head for balance and his other arm hooked around her waist, while her arms are up around his shoulders, her fingers gripping the back of his collar. The height difference means his chin is near her collarbone and he has to tip his head back to meet her eyes; her chin is lowered toward him. Both are mid-flinch, caught in the moment the door clicked shut: mouths open on half-drawn breath, eyes wide and locked on each other — her red eyes staring down into his blue ones, his gaze tipped up to hers — neither looking toward the door or the viewer. Deep flush across both faces, reddest at cheeks, ears and the bridge of the nose, with a couple of small sweatdrops at his temple and hers. His short black hair is mussed where it presses the shelf; strands fall between his eyes and one locks over his brow. Clothing: he is in a jacket with long sleeves, a ribbon at his collar and black gloves, gloved fingers splayed stiff against the wall; she wears her close-fitting bodysuit, its fabric creased and pulled tight across the hip where she twists. Cool grey-blue interior, the door-glass tinting everything a half-shade paler, with a single hard strip of corridor daylight leaking in through the vent slats at the top: it lies as bright bands across her hair, his cheekbone and the tops of both their shoulders, and leaves the space under their chins in shadow; the vent slats cast a striped shadow down his forearm. Condensation from their breath fogs the inner face of the door panel in a soft oval around their heads, and it is exactly there — where the glass is clouded and wiped — that the pane reads most transparent. Overwarm, stifled, close-quarters panic.
Show Parameters
Original Prompt
fate_スカサハ、fate_藤丸立香(男)、抱き合っている、恥ずかしがっている、見つめ合っている、焦っている、ロッカーの中に二人が入っている、ロッカーが閉じている、ロッカーの中が透けて見えている、顔にフォーカス
Mode
pro
Quality Tag
﹝Prompts﹞
Size
768 x 1280
Sampling Method
Euler
Negative
lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit
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AI artwork
じ
character: scathach_(fate), fujimaru_ritsuka_(male) 2girls, 1boy, 2people, scathach_\(fate\), fujimaru_ritsuka_\(male\), very_long_hair, purple_hair, red_eyes, short_hair, black_hair, hair_between_eyes, blue_eyes, hugging, embrace, mutual embrace, blushing, heavy blush, embarrassed, flustered, panicked, gazing at each other, eye contact, locker, inside locker, closed locker door, see-through locker door, translucent door, visible through door, face focus, close-up, upper body, from side, profile, cramped space, sweatdrop, tension lines The camera looks in through the locker door from just outside it, framing both faces at close range in a tight side-on two-shot: the flat metal door is shut and latched, and its slightly translucent panel lets the whole lit interior read through it, so the pale door surface and its vent slats sit as a faint grid laid over the two of them. Inside, they are pressed chest to chest in the narrow locker — she is the taller one, her back against the left wall with one shoulder blade flat to the metal, very long purple hair crushed behind her and spilling over the shelf edge; he is crowded in against the right wall, his own shoulder wedged where the walls meet, one hand flat on the metal beside her head for balance and his other arm hooked around her waist, while her arms are up around his shoulders, her fingers gripping the back of his collar. The height difference means his chin is near her collarbone and he has to tip his head back to meet her eyes; her chin is lowered toward him. Both are mid-flinch, caught in the moment the door clicked shut: mouths open on half-drawn breath, eyes wide and locked on each other — her red eyes staring down into his blue ones, his gaze tipped up to hers — neither looking toward the door or the viewer. Deep flush across both faces, reddest at cheeks, ears and the bridge of the nose, with a couple of small sweatdrops at his temple and hers. His short black hair is mussed where it presses the shelf; strands fall between his eyes and one locks over his brow. Clothing: he is in a jacket with long sleeves, a ribbon at his collar and black gloves, gloved fingers splayed stiff against the wall; she wears her close-fitting bodysuit, its fabric creased and pulled tight across the hip where she twists. Cool grey-blue interior, the door-glass tinting everything a half-shade paler, with a single hard strip of corridor daylight leaking in through the vent slats at the top: it lies as bright bands across her hair, his cheekbone and the tops of both their shoulders, and leaves the space under their chins in shadow; the vent slats cast a striped shadow down his forearm. Condensation from their breath fogs the inner face of the door panel in a soft oval around their heads, and it is exactly there — where the glass is clouded and wiped — that the pane reads most transparent. Overwarm, stifled, close-quarters panic.
じゅうばんめ
#zetaCollab#Fate series#Fate/Grand Order
AI artwork
じ
character: scathach_(fate), fujimaru_ritsuka_(male) 2girls, 1boy, 2people, scathach_\(fate\), fujimaru_ritsuka_\(male\), very_long_hair, purple_hair, red_eyes, short_hair, black_hair, hair_between_eyes, blue_eyes, hugging, embrace, mutual embrace, blushing, heavy blush, embarrassed, flustered, panicked, gazing at each other, eye contact, locker, inside locker, closed locker door, see-through locker door, translucent door, visible through door, face focus, close-up, upper body, from side, profile, cramped space, sweatdrop, tension lines The camera looks in through the locker door from just outside it, framing both faces at close range in a tight side-on two-shot: the flat metal door is shut and latched, and its slightly translucent panel lets the whole lit interior read through it, so the pale door surface and its vent slats sit as a faint grid laid over the two of them. Inside, they are pressed chest to chest in the narrow locker — she is the taller one, her back against the left wall with one shoulder blade flat to the metal, very long purple hair crushed behind her and spilling over the shelf edge; he is crowded in against the right wall, his own shoulder wedged where the walls meet, one hand flat on the metal beside her head for balance and his other arm hooked around her waist, while her arms are up around his shoulders, her fingers gripping the back of his collar. The height difference means his chin is near her collarbone and he has to tip his head back to meet her eyes; her chin is lowered toward him. Both are mid-flinch, caught in the moment the door clicked shut: mouths open on half-drawn breath, eyes wide and locked on each other — her red eyes staring down into his blue ones, his gaze tipped up to hers — neither looking toward the door or the viewer. Deep flush across both faces, reddest at cheeks, ears and the bridge of the nose, with a couple of small sweatdrops at his temple and hers. His short black hair is mussed where it presses the shelf; strands fall between his eyes and one locks over his brow. Clothing: he is in a jacket with long sleeves, a ribbon at his collar and black gloves, gloved fingers splayed stiff against the wall; she wears her close-fitting bodysuit, its fabric creased and pulled tight across the hip where she twists. Cool grey-blue interior, the door-glass tinting everything a half-shade paler, with a single hard strip of corridor daylight leaking in through the vent slats at the top: it lies as bright bands across her hair, his cheekbone and the tops of both their shoulders, and leaves the space under their chins in shadow; the vent slats cast a striped shadow down his forearm. Condensation from their breath fogs the inner face of the door panel in a soft oval around their heads, and it is exactly there — where the glass is clouded and wiped — that the pane reads most transparent. Overwarm, stifled, close-quarters panic.
じゅうばんめ
#zetaCollab
AI artwork
じ
character: scathach_(fate), fujimaru_ritsuka_(male) 2girls, 1boy, 2people, hug, mutual hug, close embrace, embarrassed, flustered, blushing, gazing at each other, eye contact, looking at another, inside locker, locker door closed, cutaway, cross-section view, focus on faces, close-up, from side, cramped, confined space, long hair, purple hair, very long hair, red eyes, short hair, black hair, hair over one eye, blue eyes, black gloves, long sleeves, jacket, grin, open mouth, half-closed eyes, raised eyebrow, sweatdrop A cutaway view from the side, the near wall of the metal locker sliced away so the lens looks straight into its narrow interior: two people packed into the tall steel box, the door shut flush behind them. The locker's inner walls press close on every side -- a shelf edge above their heads, a coat hook at shoulder height, a vent grille of horizontal slots on the back panel, the seam of the closed door running down the far side with its handle and latch catching a sliver of light. The camera sits at chest height and close, so the faces dominate the frame and the steel walls frame them in a tight vertical slot. Scathach is pushed against the back panel, her very long purple hair crushed flat against the steel and spilling down over the shelf edge, one long strand caught on the coat hook; she is the taller of the two, so she has to stoop, one shoulder braced against the corner, her weight on her back foot with the front foot lifted slightly off the locker floor. Both her arms are locked around his shoulders, forearms crossed behind his neck, red eyes wide and fixed on his face, brows drawn up, lips parted around a caught breath, a hot blush spread across her cheeks and the tips of her ears. The closed door's metal edge cuts across her elbow. Ritsuka is pressed chest-to-chest with her, his back to the door, black-gloved hands gripping the back of her waist and the fabric of her side, his short black hair mussed against the door's inner panel, the strand falling over one eye pushed aside by the closeness rather than by his hand; his blue eyes are turned up to hers, chin lifted, mouth open in a flustered half-grimace, cheeks flushed deep, one eyebrow hitched higher than the other, a bead of sweat at his temple. Their foreheads almost touch; their gazes are locked, each reacting to the other's flustered face at a distance of a few centimetres. The two bodies fill the locker so completely that the steel bows their clothing and compresses the space between them -- her long sleeves bunched at the elbows as her arms wrap, his jacket rucked up where his shoulder meets the door, the fabric of both pressed flat where it touches metal. The only light is a thin blade of corridor light entering through the door's vent slots and the gap under the door: it strikes the back of her hair, the rim of his cheek and the inner edge of the door, leaving the locker's depths in close, warm shadow, and the two faces are lit by a soft bounce off the pale steel walls. Palette: cold grey-blue steel, her violet hair and crimson eyes, the warm flush of two faces, nothing else admitted. Quiet, breathless, cramped intimacy.
じゅうばんめ
#zetaCollab
AI artwork
じ
character: scathach_(fate), fujimaru_ritsuka_(male) 2girls, 1boy, 2people, hug, mutual hug, close embrace, embarrassed, flustered, blushing, gazing at each other, eye contact, looking at another, inside locker, locker door closed, cutaway, cross-section view, focus on faces, close-up, from side, cramped, confined space, long hair, purple hair, very long hair, red eyes, short hair, black hair, hair over one eye, blue eyes, black gloves, long sleeves, jacket, grin, open mouth, half-closed eyes, raised eyebrow, sweatdrop A cutaway view from the side, the near wall of the metal locker sliced away so the lens looks straight into its narrow interior: two people packed into the tall steel box, the door shut flush behind them. The locker's inner walls press close on every side -- a shelf edge above their heads, a coat hook at shoulder height, a vent grille of horizontal slots on the back panel, the seam of the closed door running down the far side with its handle and latch catching a sliver of light. The camera sits at chest height and close, so the faces dominate the frame and the steel walls frame them in a tight vertical slot. Scathach is pushed against the back panel, her very long purple hair crushed flat against the steel and spilling down over the shelf edge, one long strand caught on the coat hook; she is the taller of the two, so she has to stoop, one shoulder braced against the corner, her weight on her back foot with the front foot lifted slightly off the locker floor. Both her arms are locked around his shoulders, forearms crossed behind his neck, red eyes wide and fixed on his face, brows drawn up, lips parted around a caught breath, a hot blush spread across her cheeks and the tips of her ears. The closed door's metal edge cuts across her elbow. Ritsuka is pressed chest-to-chest with her, his back to the door, black-gloved hands gripping the back of her waist and the fabric of her side, his short black hair mussed against the door's inner panel, the strand falling over one eye pushed aside by the closeness rather than by his hand; his blue eyes are turned up to hers, chin lifted, mouth open in a flustered half-grimace, cheeks flushed deep, one eyebrow hitched higher than the other, a bead of sweat at his temple. Their foreheads almost touch; their gazes are locked, each reacting to the other's flustered face at a distance of a few centimetres. The two bodies fill the locker so completely that the steel bows their clothing and compresses the space between them -- her long sleeves bunched at the elbows as her arms wrap, his jacket rucked up where his shoulder meets the door, the fabric of both pressed flat where it touches metal. The only light is a thin blade of corridor light entering through the door's vent slots and the gap under the door: it strikes the back of her hair, the rim of his cheek and the inner edge of the door, leaving the locker's depths in close, warm shadow, and the two faces are lit by a soft bounce off the pale steel walls. Palette: cold grey-blue steel, her violet hair and crimson eyes, the warm flush of two faces, nothing else admitted. Quiet, breathless, cramped intimacy.
じゅうばんめ
#zetaCollab

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