[askthreeyes]

Refs, side blog and other stuff.

Three Eyes Isolde Rp-Side blog

[askthreeyes]

ooc: Things are gonna take longer here, my mom has recently went into hospice. She's in a state where someone has to be with her 24/7. So, I thank you all for your patience and the wait will go on for a bit longer.

[askthreeyes]

ooc: Sorry for the wait on drawn stuff and written, I'm currently working on a small animation thing, a comic for future plot and an ask that has me in it's choke hold creativly haha. Also for my rp blog, i am sorry the wait on replies, I will get to them. and also does anyone need asks? I am sometimes bad at like, you know, poppin by.

[askthreeyes]

Bonus

Senders: @4n-3n19m4 @wondon23-the-drowned-kid

[askthreeyes]

A heart in a box… shaped like a heart. Curious. Was this some kind of game? A display of skill, a silent boast of one's prowess as a hunter? But why? Three Eyes tilted its head, long fingers gliding over the bloodied organ, ichor clinging to its skin like wet ink.

Strange. Very strange. But perhaps its Buzzling could find a use for it. The little one had a knack for making use of every part of a hunt, fur, blood, bones, brains… surely a heart would be no exception.

So it would accept this prize, this present. For @suzukibrothers valentines event thingie, i'm late but hey!

[askthreeyes]

Why hello there, peculiar one!

The larger being remained still, its three luminous eyes narrowing, scanning. Shadows shifted, branches swayed, but it did not move, not yet. The smaller presence at its side, nestled low within the undergrowth, let out a soft chitter, a quiet reprimand that sent a pulse of tension through its towering frame. It did not understand the sound, not fully, but it knew it was meant to hold it here, to keep it from acting on the instincts clawing beneath its skin.

The wisps of light flared and dimmed around them, mirroring the unease radiating from the creature's rigid form. It twitched, fingers curling, head tilting at an unnatural angle as it watched the unseen disturbance in its woods. But the tiny shape at its side, warm, fragile, fearless, kept its place, unafraid. And so, for now, the cryptid did not lunge, did not vanish into the void between trees. It only watched, poised between stillness and the inevitable, waiting for the next movement to decide what it would become.

"Never seen an... Anything like you before" Came a soft broken voice from the smaller being, it's little hands moving in tandem with her words, signing along. Sender: @suzukibrothers

[askthreeyes]

HC1

So, I have this little headcanon about how Enders work and what makes them so deeply unsettling.

And it’s entirely their ability to pick up blocks.

Hear me out, In the Minecraft world, only two beings seem capable of just taking a block, whole and intact. A) The Player, and B) Enders. And both are rare in any given area. Especially Enders, since they tend to avoid places with too much water, like humid jungles or cold regions where snow eventually melts into damp ground.

Now, think about how villagers build. They have to work like we do, cutting trees into planks, shaping materials by hand. If they pick up soil, it’s just a handful of dirt. But then, imagine walking somewhere and seeing a perfect block missing from a structure. Or worse, one placed somewhere it shouldn’t be. No tool marks, no signs of how it was moved. Just gone. Or there. Unnatural.

And that brings me to Three Eye’s domain. Over time, he’s dismantled nearly every tree and rebuilt them. But not normally. He’s made them eerily straight, sometimes too tall, too precise. Beyond his domain, nature grows wild, trees twist, lean, sprawl. But the moment you step into his land, everything is… wrong. No bends. No natural curves. Just rows of towering, too-perfect trees.

Like something tried to recreate a forest from memory but didn’t quite understand how they’re supposed to grow.

[askthreeyes]

Three Seconds, Four

The child sat cross-legged on the forest floor, small hands pressed against her knees to keep from fidgeting. She knew better than to move too fast, knew better than to do anything that might break the fragile control keeping those long wretched fingers from curling around her throat again. The bruises were still there, fading but unmistakable. A reminder for them both. But she was stubborn, and he was trying, and that had to count for something.

Across from her, the cryptid loomed, his gangly frame twisted down into something that almost resembled sitting. His limbs trembled with restraint, tension coiled beneath the unnatural stretch of his skin. Three glowing eyes flickered erratically, struggling to hold onto hers. It lasted for only a moment, three seconds, four, before his body spasmed, and his gaze wrenched away, his whole being shuddering as if he'd been burned. His hands dug into the dirt, desperate for an anchor. He would not hurt her again. He wouldn’t.

Isolde exhaled, slow and measured. "Okay," she murmured, not breaking the space between them. Not reaching out. Just waiting. It's chest heaved, or at least, it mimicked the motion as if trying to breathe through a body that had never needed air. His fingers twitched, hesitant. Then, at last, he turned his eyes back to her, one second, two, three. Longer this time. Not perfect, but better.

[askthreeyes]

Silent as the mist slithering between the trees, the cryptid moved. Its elongated limbs bent at unnatural angles, each step deliberate, each shift of its form blending seamlessly into the skeletal embrace of the forest. Three glowing white eyes cut through the gloom, unblinking, their eerie light casting pale reflections against the damp bark. It did not breathe, did not make a sound, only watched. Ever-watchful, ever-hungry in a way beyond flesh. It prowled through the undergrowth without disturbing a single leaf, its form twisting, stretching, shifting with each flicker of shadow and light.

It stalked, a phantom just beyond the edges of perception. Its three eyes flickered, tracking movement, calculating. When its prey stilled, so did it, merging with the void between trees. A slow tilt of its head, a silent pulse of eerie light from its gaze. Testing, measuring, waiting. Then, with the patience of something older than the woods themselves, it moved again, closer this time. Always closer. [Okay, so I wanted to try that 'reblog with what your oc would do' thing. So feel free to reblog this with your characters actions at being followed by Three Eyes?? ?]

[askthreeyes]

Scuttles on all fours at, at hyper speeds @4n-3n19m4

[askthreeyes]

The forest stretched on, dark and endless, but here, in this quiet hollow where the moonlight barely touched the earth, they stood, two shadows in the gloom. The smaller of the two, feathered and strong, was a contrast to the towering figure that loomed beside him. His wings, dusted in pale light, twitched with every small movement, a quiet, restless energy crackling beneath his skin.

The other was still, unnaturally so, his form stretched too long, his limbs tapering into the dark like the gnarled roots of a forgotten tree. No mouth to speak, only the ever-present hum of something eldritch beneath his skin, a thing not meant for soft hands and whispered touch. And yet… here he stood. Here he allowed himself to be touched.

The winged one reached up, hesitant at first, then surer, fingers brushing over the cold, smooth surface of the other's chin. There was no face to cradle, expression hard to read, yet his touch was reverent, careful. A silent promise passed between them, something ancient, something beyond the confines of language. The cryptid, for all his vastness, leaned ever so slightly into the touch, drawn forward as though gravity itself had shifted.

[askthreeyes]

There was no itch, no pull, none of that ever-gnawing hunger urging it to strike, to blind, to tear. A foreign sensation, one it had always known before when locking eyes with another. It puzzled over this quiet, this stillness, a lull where instinct did not demand violence.

Perhaps that was why it kept returning, why it lingered in the other’s orbit, drawn in like the tide to the moon. There was a peace in it, an ease, and the other was touchy, just like it. Hands upon its face, soft and curious. It didn’t understand, but it allowed it. And in turn, it found itself curling around them in quiet companionship, seeking the downy comfort of their hair, resting rather than coiling defensively.

Nice. It was nice.

Its little Buzzling had spoken of threads, of colors, tying one soul to another in ways unseen. It had believed, without question, that it was bound to her. But now, as it basked in this warmth, in this softness… what of this new creature?

Surely, with such peace, such quiet belonging, there had to be a thread. Valentines gift thing for @jamestheenderman

[askthreeyes]

Valentine’s Day meant nothing when there were frogs to catch. The two kids stomped through the muddy creek, boots sinking into the cold slop as they scoured the reeds with the intensity of seasoned hunters. Pink and red construction paper hearts? Lame. A big, warty toad the size of your fist? Now that was a prize. One of them nearly slipped, arms windmilling, but the other grabbed their coat just in time, both of them cackling like little gremlins as they pressed forward.

Their hands were already covered in muck, pockets stuffed with carefully scooped-up duck weed. One of them spotted a particularly fat frog sitting smug on a rock, and the chase was on, splashing, scrambling, one kid face-planting straight into the water. By the time they called it quits, soaked and grinning, they decided that nothing, not chocolate, not candy hearts, not even that weird thing adults did with their faces, could beat a day spent knee-deep in mud, hands full of frogs. Valentines gift for @wandering-illagers-silliness

[askthreeyes]

Three Eyes ref

[griffin-the-enderman]

Happy Valentine’s Day! (Early)

(Temporarily pinned until the end of February)

Reblog with your character drawn in place of the YCH spot to give griffin a kiss for Valentine’s Day!

[askthreeyes]

It had no mouth, no lips to press against another, yet it had watched the villagers closely, seen the way they leaned in, eyes half-lidded, breath mingling as they shared something sacred. It didn't understand what a kiss was, only that its partner in this case had allowed themselves to be pulled close, waiting, expectant. So it tried.

Tilting its head, the cryptid touched its forehead to theirs, pressing close as if the warmth of skin could bridge the gap where a mouth should be. It lingered there, uncertain, the motion clumsy but earnest. Long fingers trailed against their partner’s jaw, mimicking the way humans held each other in those fleeting, intimate moments. It was silent, always silent, but if it could whisper, it would ask: Is this right? Does this feel right?

[askthreeyes]

Gift art for @the-wandering-illagers of their boi Reggie

[askthreeyes]

Ey yo, i forgot to do that thing but if peeps want like, some valentines art [Platonic or not] send me a ref and i'll figure it out.