#underlidded

[monkmain2]

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[blackpanda-ts4]

BASICS - eyes defaults V2

Absolutely the same as V1, but lightened underlid shadows.

Download: BASICS V2 (sfs, adfree)

@sssvitlanz, @mmfinds, @maxismatchccworld, thank you for sharing!

[faeriefirelightshow]

WIP Whenever

I was tagged by my dear friend @ghoulsbeard to share a WIP, (You can read their WIP here!) and for once I have something to share too! This is a small excerpt from the backstory piece I'm writing for my BG3 OC, Stella; it's slow-going, but it's going! I'll tag @isayashai , @ervona , @witchbitchmairon , @hungerofhadarr , @daggertongue , and @lavampira ; no pressure, of course!!!

I washed thoroughly but quickly — I didn't want to miss breakfast — and changed into my riding clothes: a white linen shirt tucked into high-waisted cotton breeches, and a pair of silk socks concealed by knee-high leather boots. I pulled my heavy wool cloak on after, and pinned it in my place with a silver fibula. Finally, I combed my hair back and tied it in place with a strip of leather, then donned one of my plainer hats: a flat cap adorned with a single feather. I was almost presentable — enough for the road, at least — there were just a couple more things I needed to do. I opened my pouch of cosmetics and removed a stick of charcoal that I applied to my underlids, followed by a small container of orange rouge that I used a couple fingers to apply to my lips, cheeks, and upper lids. Once I rubbed that in, I thought I looked rather dashing, and struck a few poses in the mirror. I still felt terrible, but I didn't look it, and that's all that mattered to me. It only took me a few minutes to gather my things; everything I owned could fit into a large bag with the exception of my lute, which I strapped onto my back. Finally, I left my rented room and walked downstairs with my bag in hand.

[thelittlepoempod]

Dark circles I looked at my eyes in the mirror today And for the first time in my life, Thick dark circles washed under my lids- like stained shadows I was startled, but even moreso at the thought; that I hadn't looked at anyone's eyes, (let alone my own) in quite some time. When was the last time I checked the underlids of the people I loved? Have I ever? Until now, under-eyes, had never before spoke so much!

Do their eyes sparkle, like freshly polished dimes? Or are they heavy, lost, in distant, faded chimes.

Do they have shadows, creases, bags, absence of shine? Hunt for those differences, gentle heart, fight the numbing of time.

No more, the easily fled "how're you, how's it going?" Instead I ask: how's your season, are you wilting, growing?

What battles -from weeks, even those before this year- Do you still carry under those eyes, my dear?

These buried, subtle threads, hiding from others knowing. Oh, to see a little window, into the tapestry you're sewing.

How curious, these little keys, right under our brows. I will try now, to search more, to find out the hows.

[theonevoice]

Somewhere in that minimalist flat of his there is an empty half-lit room with one of those Steinway grand pianos (but custom made with their "Red on Black" underlid detail) sitting in the middle and nothing else but a stash of original handwritten music sheets that were gifted to him by Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, all of the Bachs... and now I want to draw it goddammit why do I keep doing this to myself?

I have a headcanon that Crowley can play the piano. I mean. Look at his hands. They're made for the piano.

This stunning creature is a pianist, though he'd never admit it. But I'm telling you. You can't have hands like that and not be. You just can't.

(Fun fact as an aside, according to a very brief perusal of the internet, David Tennant does - or did in 2013 - actually play to some extent. I'm serious. Piano hands are a real thing.)

[gbee-writes]

The Mourning Sun

Chapter Two

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---

The morning air was crisp, almost stinging her lungs. Des watched the hazy rays of early sun bring the everything into desaturated color. The world was quiet and calm, something like a person laying awake next to their sleeping lover as they waited for them to stir. Mornings like this were always her favorite but she couldn't find it in herself to enjoy it.

Everyone was preparing to be on open waters again. Riggings were tied down or loosed, cargo secured, the deck cleared as much as possible. It was all done in haunting silence. Undocking should have been one of the more boisterous times on the ship but every member of the crew was moving as ghosts. Des didn't know how she could feel so pained and so hollow at the same time. The wind breathed through and she could almost swear she heard Moa's voice in it, mocking her with the songs he would sing, mocking the way the others would pitch in with his merriment.

Des scanned the crew to find Nalluk and Nich. They had formed a chain with Juns and someone she couldn't see, moving crate after crate down below. Her heart wrenched at the quiet reserve. There wasn't any laughter that she had grown used to. Nalluk paused often to wipe at her cheeks.

She was so focused on them that she almost didn't feel the person behind her until a hand brushed her own cheek. Des turned to Kantus. His soft eyes were rimmed with red and the beginnings of dark circles blooming on his underlids. The last time Des had seen him like this was at the news of his father's death.

"How are you?" Kantus asked, tone thick. It only further confirmed that he had recently been crying.

She chose to push down her own swell of grief at it. This wasn't the time for her emotions. The whole crew needed her. "Fine, be finer iffin we got outta this port by noon." Noon was pushing things but they'd managed it before. It didn't seem like the crew was eager to stay anyway. She most certainly wasn't. Besides what had happened they needed to make it to the next port before it closed down for the storming season. They simply didn't have enough provisions to make it farther.

Just as Des wanted, they were out on the open sea just past noon. Hopefully one of their allies was at Frinden. She was prepared to make a deal with any of them at that point, anything to find her sons.

...

Des watched Torrus with trepidation. He was…less ideal as an ally, viscious and unpredictable but when it came down to it he could be worth a lot in information and fire power. Right now that was exactly what she needed.

Torrus smiled sharply at her. "You requested a parlay Captain, I suggest you don't waste it." His dark eyes glittered with malignance, the friendliest they seemed to ever get.

"Aye," Des pursed her lips. "What do ye know bout slave tradin in this region?"

"I didn't take you for the type Des, and with your own rescued wards? How…duplicitous of you." The honeyed words were spoken as if they were sharing a secret.

Her temper flaired but she didn't take the bait. He was always trying to get her angry enough to attack him, to break the shaky truce they had. It was her least favourite quality about the man. A kind of cowardice Des respected even less than the normal kind. She ground her teeth before responding. "I ain't wantin teh buy any."

"I see." His grin turned even more predatory. "Who was taken?"

"Bratha an Moa, from last port. We need teh know where they may have gotten brought."

Bile burned Des's throat as Torrus clapped his hands together in triumph. She was showing him a great weakness. It was very clear he was about to milk it for all she would allow. Kantus laid his hand to her shoulder, a much needed piece of grounding as her anger started taking over reason.

"Well then Mrs. Des, that's some important information. What do you have to trade for it?"

That was the kicker wasn't it, no information came for free. The whole crew had spent hours trying to find a ballanced trade they could offer. Des had started getting a migraine when Pev kept suggesting they whack Torrus over the head for it. Not that it hadn't been tempting. It wasn't as if Des liked the man any but good trading partners didn't attack each other unprovoked. Not that he was one but it was a matter of principal and pride that she wouldn't dare defile.

"A favor. Me and me crew will owe ye any favor yeh want within reason."

The other captain perked up at the offer. It was rare Des gave this one, used only in dire circumstances, but this counted in her eyes. Her sons were out there and if she could get them back? She would pay nearly any price.

"We have a deal." Torrus held out his hand to shake. She took it immediately. "Now then, your sons are either going to Dangri Port or the Sulm Islands; that is where most fresh slaves are brought. Of course they could also be perchaced before they even get there. If that's the case then your sons are a lost cause. You do trading with Captain Pare yes? He should be willing to scout the islands for your sons if you offer him enough in gold or spices. Dangri Port is another story. I doubt anyone on your trade list would be willing to go there at all, very nasty place that one."

His tone made it clear that Torrus expected her to ask him to search in return for another favor. Pain flaired in her hands as her nails dug into her palms. "Thank ye Captain. Iffin that be all yer information-"

"Not quite, I do have one more bit I'll throw in for you. If your sons were taken by a ship of the name Bantum? Mark them graves, you'll not see them again if you search the rest of your natural life." Des couldn't keep her face from falling. Torrus had the audacity to laugh at her sudden swell of grief, boisterously at that. "That will be all Captain Des, I will call in that favor the next time we should cross paths."

Back on her own ship Des stared down at the deck instead of the expecting faces of the crew. She knew she would burst out crying and she didn't dare show that kind of emotion when there was still a chance of seeing her boys again. Torrus had to have been wrong. Her sons were strong and smart, they would make it back.

No one stopped her as she made her way to the captain's quarters. Des sat at her map table and found the regions that had been given to her. Both were far out of their way. They would need time to prepare and travel which would make them too late if the boys had been taken there. Her teeth protested from how tight she was cleching her jaw. Owing too many things at once…it could end them just as fast as help. Pare was less greedy than Torrus but that didn't mean he would do something at his own loss for them.

"Des?" Kantus closed the door quietly behind him. "Darling, you'll tear the maps if you hold them much tighter."

Des relinquished her grip on them. A frustrated sigh slipped out. "We be in a bad place righ' now."

"I know. We have always managed to get out of them."

"This ain't bein like before, this be worse." She pulled away when he went to touch her cheek. If Kantus was gentle with her it would be the last straw and Des couldn't bear the thought. Strength was more important than her grief. Her past cry was all she was willing to allow herself until Bratha and Moa were back in her arms.

Kantus pulled back with a frown. "We have made it through every hard time in our lives, if we work together with our partners and friends we can certainly make it through this. I know it won't be easy but we can."

Des took his hand in hers with a tight grip, not meeting his eyes but not looking away either. He made no moves to comfort her. She was deeply grateful for it. "I be needin teh go talk teh Pare."

"Would you like me to join you? I may be able to offer my service as a trade."

"Nay, we be neeedin ye here." She needed him there. "Captain Pare be a fair man, I ain't needin someone teh watch me back."

...

Captain Pare was much more sympathetic to their situation than Torrus ever could be. He listened patiently as Des explained and took time to think before speaking. "I'm truly sorry to hear of your loss, Des. I quite enjoyed your boys' antics."

"They ain't-" Des bit her tongue. This wasn't the time to be angry, she needed a level head. "We know where they may've gotten taken."

"I see, this is a request then. Where?"

"The Sulm Islands. Ye trade near there aye?"

Pare nodded thoughtfully, fingers steepled on front of his mouth. It was something that both frustrated and endeared him to her. He never went into anything without thinking good and hard on it first, including smaller things. It had come in handy many times. It had also painfully slowed things down others, such as this moment where her babies were on the line. Her skin crawled as Des tried not to shout at him.

After a time Pare leaned back. He unsteepled his fingers and rested his hands on his legs. "Well now, you have been an exemplary trading partner, and you have always been a great assistance in a fight. Because of this I believe a fair trade would be for you to pay the expenditure of their reclaim while mine and I bring them to you should we find them."

Her heart launched into her throat. "Aye, tha's more than fair." Des's desperation must have been showing through because Pare set his hand on hers with a small smile.

"It's a deal then. I will send a message to Jeckle's estate when we have news."

XXX

Bratha had swabbed decks before. It was one of the few chores you got on The Star as punishment, along with helping Uncle Kevr do dishes and listening to his papa explain proper silverware etiquette. Well, maybe not that last one but it always felt like a chore for young Bratha. He'd hated it. It was long and boring.

In hindsight, with the sun beating down on his bare skin and the crew of Tidal Crest getting in jabs at every opportunity, maybe swabbing the deck for The Star wasn't so much of a punishment. His family made sure he was well shaded and let him take breaks. Sula had ordered him into a plain pair of breaches but no shirt. Hours in the sun left his back feeling tight, burned skin stinging unbearably and threatening to crack. He was certain that it had blistered already. His head was muggy and throat scratched as he breathed. Every sweltering hour that passed made his bucket of soapy water look more tempting. What he wouldn't give for a good cool breeze to start up.

Another man walked by Bratha and sent out a kick. At the beginning of the chore he was able to dodge most of the attacks but now he only managed a weak flinch as the boot buried itself in his side. It took all of Bratha's effort not to curl into himself. He had to keep moving or Captain Sula would come down to see why he wasn't working. He glanced up to the wheel and met her gaze.

She looked so smug. He wanted to break her face for it.

"Missed a spot there boy." The way she said boy made rage boil up but Bratha forced himself to ignore it. He had to ignore it. If he acted well enough she let him see Moa and, despite missing his brother, Bratha had struggled to behave well enough for Sula's standards. Days had gone by since his last visit and if he didn't see Moa soon he was going to do something drastic.

He moved to scrub the spot she indicated, taking him anger out on the worn wood. Hours went by until the sun started setting. Bratha shivered under the chilling air, cursing himself for wanting a breeze earlier. The sun fully set before Sula approached him again.

Her snarl was more frightening in the lantern light. "Come on then boy, five minutes with the others."

…

Bratha winced as Moa's hands brushed the sunburn but he didn't let go. He was going to soak up every second he got with his brother. "Are ye alright? Are ye eatin enough?"

"I'll be fine Bratha." Moa's tone was meant to be reasuring but Bratha didn't buy it. He pulled back to look at him and…his fears were confirmed. Cheeks begining to sink, eyes bloodshot, hands shaking. His brother was begining to look the way he did when they had first rescued him all those years ago. Moa seemed to notice his worry. "Really, I will be alright." This time Bratha picked up on Moa's attempts to relay something to him. He didn't know for sure what it was but if he had to hazard a guess, and he did, it was that Moa was forming or had already formed a plan.

A weary sigh slipped from Bratha's lips. "Aye, I understand."

XXX

Moa couldn't say he was doing well. He was back in shackles, trapped in the kitchen of a ship, separated from his brother. None of that was particularly good. The only thing keeping him from losing it was the fact that him and Bratha were still on the same ship and if they played their cards right they could find a way to escape.

He knew that the man who had their keys, Miggs, and the captain had a bottle of ale before bed every night at sundown to wind down. He also knew that Miggs spent most of his time down in the kitchens. Putting those two bits of information together gave them a small window of escape oppourtunity. Moa had learned many things on The Star and pickpocketting was very much one of them that he was very grateful for at the moment.

Unfortunately for his plan, Miggs always seemed to keep just out of reach of him and the other slave.

His name was Kae. As far as Moa could gather he was sold into slavery as punishment for something but he wasn't sure what. Kae was an odd one, fiery red hair was stark contrast with his nearly snow white complextion and freckles littered every part of visible skin and probably more. Moa could confidently say he hadn't seen anyone quite like him before. His personality though? That was familiar. Lost, hurt, scared; all things that he felt after being taken.

At first Kae didn't say much of anything but as the weeks wore on Kae started talking more. Moa was mildly surprised to find he quite liked the man.

"You're planning something, aren't you now?" The quiet whisper filled the darkened kitchen. "You keep watching Miggs."

Kae was leaning into him. He always seemed to be seeking out physical contact, something that was considered innapropriate for boys at their age but Moa never minded. After all, he was one to cuddle his siblings at every opportunity. A deep sigh slipped out. "I've been trying to pocket the keys."

There was a moment of silence. "Maybe I could help? I could try to startle him closer to you."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't." Kae pulled away from him before a muffled gunshot filled the space. Moa jumped out of his skin. "Don't worry, that was me. Miggs won't know."

"That was you? How did you do that?"

Kae leaned back into him. A sad lilt leaked into his voice. "I don't know, I've always been able to sound like other things."

Moa knew that asking why he sounded so sad would only cause the other man to stop speaking so he chose instead to fill him in on the rest of his plan. Kae's mimicry might be exactly what he needed.

…

Kae mimicked the sound of a gunshot perfectly and in the split second Miggs got too close Moa had the keys, stashing them quickly into his pants before clinging to Kae as if he were afraid. Thankfully their captor didn't notice, too busy cursing out one of his crew members for being 'careless with their guns'. He wondered why Miggs didn't assume an attack of some kind. It didn't matter either way, because soon the man left and Kae and Moa just had to wait.

When they were certain it was the right time Moa brought out the keys. His fingers fumbled as he tried to get Kae's collar off but he managed it. Kae similarly struggled with his own collar. Once they were free Moa led the way from the kitchens as silent as a mouse. Kae was right behind him, hopefully with the little bag of food they had managed to hide away. It wasn't much but it would have to do. The real food stores were locked and that was a key Miggs didn't have. Moa tried not to dwell on how long they might end up staying on open ocean. They would figure it out.

They made their way to a ladder leading down. Kae had been the one to ask him when they would get his brother, something he was deeply touched by, and Moa knew they would need to grab Bratha as soon as they got free.

He couldn't say he knew this ship in particular but he had the advantage of being taken from where they were holding Bratha. Before he knew it they had the door open and the lantern in the room lit.

Bratha was curled on the floor, barely concious. He fitfully kicked out in his sleep. Moa's heart wrenched seeing the new bruises painting his brother's skin. He had only ever seen Bratha confident and boisterous, nothing like the quiet person he had started becoming. It was almost too much for him to bear.

Carefully he knelt down to touch Bratha's shoulder. His brother jolted awake, eyes wide with fear and body tensed. It only caused Moa's grief to grow. "It's us Bratha, we're getting out."

Bratha calmed down but he didn't move much past that. He didn't seem to be taking in anything more than Moa's words. It was all too possible that he was too weak to do anything.

After a moment to assess his brother's injuries Moa scooped him up onto his back, coaxing him into wrapping his longer legs so they wouldn't drag. He turned to Kae with a determined look. "Let's go."

Kae nodded in response and they started their way to freedom.

Up on the quarter deck a young woman scanned the seas. There was no doubt someone manning the crows nest as well. Moa glanced around the deck until he saw the ships-boat on the port side of the ship, tied up almost lazily. Momma never would have allowed such sloppy work on her own ship. He was grateful Sula had slipped like that.

Moa gestured Kae forwards, hoisting Bratha further up his back as he led the way. Halfway there the woman noticed them. She let out a loud shout as she grabbed at her waist for what Moa assumed was her weapon. They made it to the boat just as she started firing. He knew from experience that the rest of the crew would quickly follow suit so he shoved at the boat, ignoring the wood splintering right next to his head. Kae was handling it less well and was scrambling at the side as if he wanted to run without the boat.

He stayed with them though, something Moa was proud of. Before they could get the boat fully off the side of the ship there was a rush of crew members on the deck. Shouts and gunshots got more prominent. The boat tipped over, taking a few barrels and what looked to be the boarding plank off the side with it. Moa grabbed Kae and jumped off the side. "Hold your breath!" He hoped the wind wouldn't wisk the words away.

Cold overwhelmed him as he hit the ocean. Frantically Moa grabbed as his mouth and nose to keep from breathing in with the shock of it. He kicked Bratha and him up intul they surfaced next to the boat. It had landed upside-down.

Just as he was starting to worry, Kae floundered to the surface. Moa cursed. How had he forgotten to ask if Kae could swim?! He reached over for Kae, shifting how he was holding Bratha so both of them were floating on his chest. More gunshots caused sprays of water. The boat got the worst of it. It was peppered with so many holes it wouldn't be of any use to them. In desperation Moa dove them back under the surface.

He waited, holding both men underwater until he was sure there weren't more gunshots. There was a weak attempt from Bratha to help kick them back to the surface but it wasn't really all that helpful. Kae broke away as they hit air. He started coughing, grabbing onto a barrel that fell off in the scuffle. Moa dragged himself and Bratha onto the boarding plank. It tipped dangerously forwards with his effort.

Once the board stabilized Moa looked over to Kae, his own worries mirrored in his new friend's face.

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@cinnabarmint

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 12041

Hand of the light also fall; soone     with my bosom of human clime, tell her splendour face doth     each thee. Bred to teach, the

brain to brute earth; been the lone cameras     wanton ripe in holding by a long begin, as she     raves! In the crimson-circle

hand. To teach the grave recalling     the pain, let bee. And long, and merry was dead: and do     so, love, first time, those whose

majesties appear, sae let go.     Thy selfishness and glanced athwart that delights, and sharpen’d     brows shall gather’d at ease.

For so deformed ourself: cast thy     face may stair—clasp and farms another, each one the letters     in the fruitless of

paradise. Who hath made so fairily     by thee to thee, I am aweary, aweary,     aweary, a spaces

blown over so. Blaze her service     to walk, perhaps they pleased a vanish’d, to music in their     rayes, and round us they

sat, had every motion without     attainted with sweeter to melt like us just reverse     shoes, and take the skill to

plays its richer stately fold, and     in the buzzing what can be born of four days, many anguish     also to raise the

type appears it roses I think     and but for life hath the underlids uplift, it’s an     imitative grove whereon

with proud, before and maybe neither     Breeze compelling pain. This use that yet resign’d. My Arthur,     whose her lute doth

compelling away they owe; the genial     comes a cry above the wave. Smelling reside and groan:     to sacred essence? Be

her goe. It is also a bell,     and hether of your leave thee when Chloe is pleasure: and     dumb and Nail, and merry

face; when the splendour sex a tyrant     passion grain shall silence of Art the Kraken the ground     ball wrapt in clay: let Science

on the wheel in truth shadows,     and prettily bedabbled so I took the congruity     the psalm to whom frown.

[limewatt]

wow i’ve never had worse dark circles in my life. i kinda thought they were fake cause i never really noticed any variance that couldn’t be attributed to lighting despite sleeping like shit on the regular but no yeah thats straight up bruised looking today. free smoky eye (underlid only). did i get punched in my sleep goddamn

[jofms]

don't think about it. her hands went to her knees again as it entered her mind once more. "fuck..." it took josette a few moments to bring herself slightly together, delicately wiping the underlids of her eyes so that everything wasn't so blurry. there was a disconnect, a feeling how she hadn't even recognised she'd got herself out of the establishment. it didn't feel real and then she felt like she'd become far too transfixed on her own fingertips and whether she could feel them or not. perhaps it was all an awful nightmare to help her digest what had happened. "fuck." the sudden panic had disappeared at the same time but was prevalent in a different way - she was in shock. "i need to get home." josette nodded, like she hadn't really taken in any of the suggestions but was somewhat receptive. putting a hand against the building again, she leaned into it. at least the evident physical reaction was leaving little energy for her to be screaming and crying. "i feel awful."

Tentatively, Esteban pushed back the skin-crawling discomfort of invading a distraught virago's space, a palm pushing on her shoulder gingerly to garner her attentions. "Jo, you're already outside," they pointed out, her disconnect from reality cause for palpable concern. Whatever had been playing inside must have been ostensibly more harrowing than one would've anticipated reading SAW on the lit-up time cards for the films. ( Farah's work in mortuary and funeral services didn't serve to round out Esteban's small stomach for the macabre, either. If it were of reasonable disbelief, then that was all well and fine. ) "Do you need me to call someone for you? Like a cab, to take you home? You don't seem like you're in any state to walk." They grimaced, reluctant to leave her where she stood, gagging and paler by the second. "Or, uh, my wife, she must be getting ready to clock out. Why don't I have her pick us up?"

[nightwingcouldyounot]

Two things about this panel 

1- Selina eating pizza with a knife and fork 

2- Selina having surprisingly nice and unique eye makeup for a comic

(Catwoman V3 (new52) Volume 8)

[jrueships]

HEAT

[monkmain2]

Underlidded reference sheets

Also concerning scaling frisk is up to papyrus’s shoulders and Chara is a couple inches taller than papyrus

[mistwood-archive]

epic fail moment on my part bc i thought the san lang design was hc's actual design and i didn't even realize he has both eyes

[comiiical]

The best way to cheer Grayson up is by pepper kissing his cheekbones and the underlid of his eyes. Forced to look back once his eyes are open, it’s just like soul sharing for him in that moment.

[pooklet]

hello. this is not a request or anything, i just wanted to ask someone who's good at bodyshop stuff ;) do you think it's possible to create some kind of eye accessory (maybe like simNopke's heterochromia mesh) that lets eye corners and underlid shadow stay in one place (attached to corners of the eyes and upper lid respectively), so that they're not part of the eye texture itself and don't creepily move around when the eye animates? hope i explained myself well lol, and sorry to bother! <3

hey anon! so, accessory meshing is kind of above my pay grade when it comes to cc making but if i understand your question, you’re wanting an eye mesh that doesn’t cover the entire eye? like an iris-only mesh? that’s not something i have any personal experience with, so anyone who knows accessories better feel free to correct me on this but from what i know about editing face templates, this might not be possible.

sim faces have to be kind of “elastic” to accommodate different sliders & all the goofy expressions they pull in game. if an eye mesh was right up against the eye itself, certain sliders would clip into the eye behind it. i have not personally used simnopke’s mesh much (i downloaded it right before i started making real big-eyed alien sims which the dl mentions don’t work well with the mesh) but i had and used generalzoi’s cyborg eye mesh in my game a lot Back In The Day, and from what i remember, the seams of the mesh had to kind of be anchored inside the upper and lower eyelid so that it would move with their face (and even so, some sliders would stretch the eye beyond the bounds of what the mesh could cover). the mesh itself wasn’t flat against the face mesh, it floated a couple pixels in front of the eye, so as not to clip. so, by necessity, it covered the entire eye to hide the mesh seams and make it animate properly.

basically i think there’s just too many variables involved in sim faces to be able to make an eye accessory mesh that only covers part of the eye but, again, i’m not as familiar with accessories as i am other types of bodyshop content. sry i could not be of more help!

[thephantomcasebook]

To Anyone Out Here Looking for that Wholesome Content.

Yet, unknown to anyone at Downton Abbey, there was a knock at the door of Crawley House. When Dickie answered, he found a small young girl, as beautiful as an angel in the bleak mid-winter. Her golden locks shimmered dimly in the light of the grey afternoon. Marigold Drewe stood alone at the doorstep, behind her on the frosted lawn, Bertie Pelham stood in the foreground looking concerned but sorrowfully enchanted. Marigold asked if she could see George - if only for a moment. Something warm and comforting touched Dickie’s heart when he saw her hopeful and sweet countenance, like the rays of the sun after a winter storm settles. He looked up at Bertie who gave a pleading and confirming nod. Then, looking back at small and wholesome emerald eyes …

There was no power in the universe that could deny something so innocently pure.

Isobel knitted, glancing up every few moments to George’s stilled face, observing his chest, praying it was still moving up and down, ever so slight. She ignored the sound of Matthew’s door opening, thinking it was Dickie with her tea, to tell her who it was at the door. But she was surprised when she saw that it was Marigold who glided in. She stood immediately, thinking to find Cora, Edith - or worse – Mary, to follow. But she found only Marigold.

The little girl gave a soft nervous look of anxiety that nearly betrayed her maternity. But when Dickie entered, he gave his wife a knowing and endearing look that said she needed a better watchman if they’re gonna start sending angels to their door. The harshness of Isobel’s looks tempered and a soft melancholy came over her lined face at the lovely young creature that looked so innocent. Gently, she took Marigold’s small hand and led the golden-haired little beauty across her Uncle Matthew’s room to where George lay.

His face was soaked in sweat, his eyes underlid were moving rapidly back and forth. There was Blackish purple bruising, like burst veins, on his cheeks and eyelids. He was still wearing the clothing that he had days before, unable to be changed by the sheer low body temperature. Despite his sweat, he was piled with blankets. A large yellow salt stain surrounded the white linin of his pillowcase. For a long moment the girl stood by his bedside, peering next to him. 

Gently, sadly, she laid her chin down on the bedside and stared at him. Then, after a moment, looking to Isobel for permission, she slowly climbed up on the bed and laid out, placing her head on his chest. For a long a time she laid there, eyes closed, tears spilling from squeezed eyelids as her golden head rose and fell, her little hand intertwined in his as he slept. No one was sure how long they stayed that way, brought to tears by such a wholesome and innocent picture of love’s purity. But, in the end, finally, Dickie reminded Marigold that Bertie was waiting out in the cold when he saw the helplessness and burden of such sights on his wife’s wearied face.

The little girl sat up on the bed and nodded sadly. Thanking Isobel within a contained sob, she climbed off the bed and began walking out of the room where Dickie held the door for her. But after a few paces she stopped. Then, with muted response, Dickie and Isobel watched as the little girl ran back quickly, as if forgetting something. Then, hoping back up on the adult sized bed, she leaned over and with closed eyes gave George the softest of pecks on the lips - like she had seen in the storybooks. Then, she leaned over and nuzzled the side of his sweat soaked blonde hair and whispered something in his ear in an emotional voice.

“Come back to me.”

Then, once more hoping off the bed, Marigold tearfully thanked Isobel for having her over with the humblest innocence. But Isobel, instead, knelt and took the girl into her arms and embraced her tightly. Trapped in what seemed like an eternity in the hellish world of her worst nightmares, the appearance of one so beautiful and unspoiled by the darkness of the inequity of this world had been an unexpected answer to a heart’s unknowing prayer. Kissing the frazzled old woman on the cheek, Marigold promised her adopted aunt that George would wake up … for both of them. When they broke apart, she took Isobel’s hand as they both exited the room, Dickie took a private moment to clear his tears before closing the door softly to leave George in peace

.But after a moment, a gasp of air escaped George, and for the first time since Christmas his breath came normally - the black bruising receding.