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PixAI × zeta Original Character Creation Contest 2026

Publicado em Nov 3, 2026

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character: jeanne_d'arc_(fate) 1girl, solo, jeanne d'arc (fate), long blonde hair, single braid, very long hair, blue eyes, huge breasts, huge hips, nurse outfit, white nurse dress, nurse cap, sitting on bed, sitting, on bed, patient room, hospital room, bed, pillow, IV stand, window with blinds, from side, profile, cowboy shot, looking at viewer, soft smile, half-closed eyes, head tilt, hands on own lap, leaning back on one arm, weight on hip, bare shoulders, collarbone, bare legs, white thighhighs, depth of field, warm morning light, pale blue and white palette, A three-quarter side view taken from slightly below eye level, close enough that she fills most of the frame: focus on the woman, one blonde nurse seated on the edge of a hospital bed, her body angled toward the camera but her head turned back over her near shoulder so that her profile and the front of her face both catch the light. She sits with her weight sunk into her left hip and thigh — the mattress compresses in a deep oval around her, the sheet wrinkling outward from the pressure — while her right leg hangs off the bed, toe of her white shoe just brushing the floor. Her near arm is planted behind her, palm flat on the mattress, shoulder drawn up and back so her chest pushes forward against the white fabric of the nurse dress, the strain visible in the buttons and the tight horizontal pull of the cloth across the bust; the far hand rests loose on her thigh, fingers curled, thumb stroking once along the seam. The dress is short and white with a pale blue trim, belted and cinched above wide hips that flare the skirt out over the mattress edge, a small white nurse cap pinned into the crown of her hair. Her single thick blonde braid, absurdly long, is gathered over her far shoulder and falls in a heavy rope down her back, its tail end resting coiled on the quilted bedspread behind her hip; loose strands escape at her temple and at the nape. Her blue eyes are turned to the viewer, half-lidded, the mouth curved in a soft closed-lip smile, one brow faintly lifted — a look that is warm and a little tired, unhurried, as if she has just sat down for the first time in a long shift and is pleased to be looked at. The room around her is a modest hospital ward: a metal-framed bed with a white cotton sheet and a single flat pillow, a wheeled bedside table with a glass of water and a folded towel on it, a thin IV stand with tubing looped and empty at the frame's left edge, and behind her a tall window with half-closed horizontal blinds. There is no one else in the room. Morning light comes through those blinds from the left and slightly behind the camera, laying a banded pattern of pale bars across the bedspread, across her near arm and across one side of her face and throat, while the far side of her jaw, the far side of the braid and the corner of the room behind the IV stand fall into a soft cool shadow. Where the light strikes, the cotton of the sheet and the dress reads slightly warm ivory; where it does not, the whole ward cools toward a clean pale blue, and the palette holds to white, ivory, pale blue and the warm gold of her hair and the single touch of pink in her lips and the flush on her cheek — nothing else admitted. Shallow depth of field: her face, the buttons of the dress and the hand on her thigh are crisp, the window and the IV stand soften into a gentle blur, and the room's far wall is a flat wash of pale shadow that gives her silhouette a clean edge. A quiet, tender calm.

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