Nov 2, 2026

서버 점검 안내 — 현재 서버 설비 일부에 대한 점검이 진행 중입니다. 점검 기간 동안 SDXL 및 Tsubaki.1 작업의 생성 속도가 평소보다 느려질 수 있습니다. 이용에 불편을 드려 죄송하며, 너그러운 양해 부탁드립니다. 정상화되…

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クラゲ

最近お気に入りの姿

#백발 #소년

게시일 Nov 1, 2026

dainsleif-love

1boy, solo, sitting, hugging own legs, knees up, arms wrapped around knees, curled up, silver hair, jellyfish hair, short hair with long tendrils, bangs, white hair, heterochromia, crimson eye, white eye, pale skin, white shirt, frilled shirt, frills, black corset, black pants, slim pants, long sleeves, bare feet, dim lighting, dark room, from above, foreshortening, looking down, half-closed eyes, closed mouth, serious, shadow, vignette High-angle view from above, tilted down into the corner of a dimly lit room: a slight boy sits curled on the bare wooden floor, both knees drawn up to his chest, both bare feet tucked flat against the boards, his thin arms wrapped around his shins with his fingers laced together at his ankles. His silver-white hair is cut short and rounded at the crown, and long loose tendrils of it fall forward off his temples and hang past his jaw like drifting jellyfish filaments, the ends splaying and curling where they meet his shoulders, their silver catching the light along each strand's outer curve while the undersides go grey. He has tilted his forehead down toward his knees so his face is seen from above at a steep angle: the fringe parts and one deep crimson eye peers up through the gap beneath his lashes, its iris dark and saturated like clotted wine, while the other eye shows only a pale white iris, almost colourless, the pupil a small dark dot inside it, so the two colours read unmistakably side by side on the same downturned face. His brows are drawn level and low, his mouth closed into a flat line, his lips slightly parted with the shallow pressure of a held breath, and he is not looking at anyone; the crimson eye is angled off to the side, past the viewer, at nothing in the room. He wears a white shirt of thin cotton with a high buttoned collar and a cascade of narrow frills running down the placket and gathering at each wrist, the fabric creased across his back where the curl of his spine pulls it taut; over the shirt a black corset cinches his waist, its boned panels stiff and matte and laced tight, the black edge cutting a hard horizontal line across his torso a hand's width above the waistband of his black slim pants, which fit close down his thin legs and stop at his bare ankles above the floor. His heel bones rest on the boards, both feet close together. The room is a small enclosed space with visible dark walls and no window; a single low warm lamp sits out of frame to the lower left, and it is the only light source, so the light climbs the left side of his face and the frills of his left cuff, glints on the taut strands of silver hair falling on that side, and leaves the right half of his body in deep brown shadow. Behind him the floorboards run away into darkness, and his own shadow pools beneath his curled body and stretches long and soft toward the right edge of the frame, darkest where it touches his feet and fading before it reaches the wall. The palette holds only black, bone white, warm brown shadow, the muted silver of his hair, and the one crimson iris as its single hot note. Dust hangs motionless in the lamp's cone. Quiet dread.

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