安部 鈴
仁科 並
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In corso
7d · 8h · 47m
Racing Circuit Festival
Nov 1, 2026 – Nov 9, 2026
Premi
N. 1 · 1 vincitore
20,000Crediti
N. 2 · 1 vincitore
10,000Crediti
N. 3 · 12 vincitori
5,000Crediti (per vincitore)
N. 4 · 15 vincitori
2,000Crediti (per vincitore)
Montepremi totale: 120,000Crediti
Regole del concorso
Crea la tua opera su PixAI e inviala per partecipare
Puoi inviare più partecipazioni. La classifica finale si basa sull'opera con più Mi piace.
La partecipazione deve includere il tag del concorso per essere conteggiata.
Submissions must be artworks published after the contest start date
Partecipazioni295
安部 鈴
仁科 並
cm
Car girl
Chui Marco
cm
Car girl
Chui Marco
cm
Car girl
Chui Marco
cm
Car girl
Chui Marco
いつもの格好でレースを見に来たら…
弓邦武士
ライダーケモ娘
sol
nc
1girl, solo, adult woman, mature female, tall slender figure, nine-heads-tall proportions, long black hair, slightly wavy hair, hair past waist, mature cold beautiful face, sharp eyes, confident alluring gaze, half-closed eyes, glossy lips, slim waist, wide hips, defined waist-hip curve, curvy, rounded uplifted buttocks, long legs, standing, full body, low camera angle, from below, slight upward shot, from side, race queen outfit, black cropped biker leather jacket, short jacket, bare midriff, deep V-neck racing top, cleavage, high-waisted skirt, tight short skirt, black over-knee boots, silver seatbelt strap across torso, mechanical-style protective gear, armored hip guard, mechanical forearm guard, professional race circuit pit lane, black GT race car, red-white track markings, metal guardrail, racing flags, neon reflections, cold blue-gray palette, strong contrast lighting, reflections on car body, motion blur, speed lines, sense of speed, fashion poster composition, realistic thick-paint rendering, high detail, no text
The camera sits low at hip height and tilts slightly upward, so the woman's full nine-heads-tall figure towers against a cold blue-gray pit-lane ceiling of hazy hangar light, her black over-knee boots planted wide and apart on the painted concrete, weight settled onto her back right leg while her left hip pushes forward in a long counter-curve that lifts the high-waisted skirt's edge and makes the waist-hip line read as a single unbroken sweep from ribcage to thigh. She is turned three-quarters away from the lens, shoulders angled toward the black GT car, head pivoted back over her left shoulder so her chin lifts and her eyes come down the line of her own cheek straight into the viewer — half-lidded, cool, certain — the confident alluring gaze landing as a challenge rather than an invitation. Her long black slightly wavy hair spills over the jacket's collar and swings in a heavy loose curve across her back, a few strands lifted by the warm air rolling off the car.
Her left hand rests flat on the GT car's rear haunch, fingertips spread against the glossy black bodywork, and the deep red-orange of the tail light and the cold white of the pit-lane strip lights smear across the paint under her palm; her right hand is hooked casually into the silver seatbelt strap where it crosses her chest from shoulder to opposite hip, the metal tongue catching a hard white highlight. The cropped black biker jacket ends at the bottom rib, its lapel standing up at the neck, and beneath it the deep V-neck racing top plunges between the mechanical-style armored chest guard and the strapped hip plate, silver buckles and hinge-joints riveted along the seams. The high-waisted slim skirt holds tight across her pelvis and stops high on the thigh; the black over-knee boots rise to just above the knee with a hard polished shaft, their soles gripping the concrete, and the gap of bare thigh between skirt and boot catches the strongest of the light.
Behind her the pit lane runs deep: the red-white track markings band the floor and pull away in perspective toward a row of metal guardrail uprights, a stack of racing flags hangs limp and then snaps taut on a gust, and beyond the rail the circuit falls into cold blue haze. The car's body is a curved mirror — the guardrail's white stripes, the red flag and the neon pit sign bending around the wheel arch — and its reflection sits darker and softer than the sources it repeats. Strong contrast lighting splits the scene: hard cool white from the overhead strip lights rakes down her left side and glazes the top planes of the jacket, boots and car roof, while the shadow side of her face, the underside of her chin and the deep folds of the leather fall into near-black; a thin warm orange rim from the tail light traces the back of her calf and the edge of her hair. The palette admits only cold blue-gray, black, silver and the single red-white of the track markings and the flags. She is perfectly still while everything around her streams — the flags, the heat shimmer off the tarmac, the streaked neon — so the speed belongs to the world and not to her. Effortlessly cool, high-fashion.
Nanette Calista
レースクイーン・ドロレス
シンベイ
賽車女郎小實
銀嵐
k1
(masterpiece, best quality, highres:1.2), (pure flat color:1.6), (cel shading:1.4), crisp clean lineart, bold black outlines, (no shading, flat lighting:1.5), (1girl, solo focus:1.5), original character, mature female, long white hair, elegant wavy hair, red eyes, beautiful face, (condescending gaze, seductive smirk, looking down at viewer:1.5), (standing in the VIP lounge:1.4), (holding a champagne bottle:1.4), (black tailored blazer:1.4), (white dress shirt, unbuttoned, heavy cleavage:1.5), (black pencil skirt, high slit:1.4), (black pantyhose, long legs:1.4), (black fingerless gloves:1.3), (race track background, glass window, blurred cars racing below:1.4), (perfect hands, delicate fingers:1.3), from below, high angle on viewer POV, cowboy shot, tall narrow pose, weight on one hip, head tilted down, chin lowered, half-lidded eyes, one brow slightly raised, one lip corner curled up, bottle by the neck, other arm slack at her side, looking down at viewer, curved lounge floor, champagne bucket out of reach.
From below, the camera sits at chest height of the viewer and tilts up: she occupies the centre-left third in a cowboy shot cropped just under the knee, standing tall in the VIP lounge with her weight settled on her left leg, right hip pushed out, right knee eased forward and slightly bent, skirt hem following the lean; her feet are planted on the polished flat-coloured lounge floor whose leading line of skirting runs away to the right edge. Her chin is lowered toward the lens, and the look she gives the viewer is a level, wholly unimpressed one -- half-lidded red eyes steady, one brow faintly raised, one lip corner curled up in a closed-mouth smirk -- the condescending, seductive scan of someone appraising who exactly was allowed up here. Her long, wavy white hair falls in flat pale ribbons over her shoulders and down her back, the ends turned out where the bob of her head off the glass line stirs them.
Her right hand, black-gloved, delicate fingers wrapped around the neck of a dark green champagne bottle, holds it upright and angled a little across her body at hip level, the bottle's mouth tilted away from her; her left hand hangs loosely at her side, gloved fingers slightly curled and relaxed. Her costume reads in flat blocks: black tailored blazer unbuttoned and squared at the shoulders, its lapels framing a white dress shirt open down the sternum, the shirt's placket showing the heavy line of her cleavage; a black pencil skirt hugs the hips and drops with a high slit that opens over the black pantyhose on her long leg down to the pointed black shoes.
Behind her, the lounge's full-height glass window fills the upper right two-thirds of frame as a flat pale-blue sheet with a single hard highlight stripe; through it the race track and blurring cars streak past below the level of the room, rendered as flat horizontal bars of heat-haze and motion across the low sky and asphalt rather than legible vehicles. The light is a single flat source from the window, lighting the left side of her face and the front of the white shirt in one unbroken tone with no gradient, and the room's interior points in the same flat black and cool grey; the only shadow is a hard, single-tone cast on the floor at her feet, offset toward the lounge interior. The palette stays in black, white, pale window blues and the deep green of the bottle with her red eyes and the champagne gold of the bucket's cooler as the only warm accents.
The bottle's tilted mouth catches the window stripe as a thin, unbroken white line, and its long shadow slants across the floor to the door. Calm, quietly imperious.
ki11yukii
Tag di partecipazione
#Racing Circuit
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