#marytn inthelittlewood

[snaky1ello]

Marytn :DDDD

I drew him again

[sirinoya]

LOOK AT THE RACCOONNN

SO CUTEEEE

[inthelittefrost]

So let me get this straight 

 Theres a dessert and village just out of reach of the border? 

 I wonder if the border fell if they would find an odd and destroyed area 

A snow castle of all things 

 The reminds of a medieval town

 A battlefield filled with  Bodies that look similar

Do the villagers gossip? Do they gossip how they just saw that dude last year and he’s different now look! How the kind right hand man is covered in coral?

Was the bad boy villager lured over by the face of a local Cryptid?

[mosswoodmc]

oh, and last but not least "FUCK YEAH MARTYN DIE FIRST, WATCHER LORE"

I am torn between "FUCK YEAH JIMMY DIE FIRST, CANARY CURSE" and "FUCK YEAH SKIZZ DIE FIRST, FALLEN ANGEL IMAGERY" and the secret third option in the back of my brain "FUCK YEAH ETHO DIE FIRST, CLOCKER FAMILY TRAGEDY ARC"

[stalarys]

it was only a kiss, it was only a kiss

“IT WAS ONLY A KISS, IT WAS ONLY A KISS” ; or, martyn inthelittlewood and the passing of the curse // wingswap / shared curse au (?) // ao3 link

cw: graphic descriptions of canon violence, vomiting, body horror (??)

spoilers through secret life ep 4

1.7k words

-----

Tensions are always the lightest at the start of a session. Freshly spawned in, feeling fully vitalized and without any expectations for the challenges ahead. With no allies, no enemies, no bases… It's so lighthearted, and Martyn loves it. They all can be dramatic and murderous in the end, but these early, peaceful moments are something he treasures. 

(he feels like he’s missing something. that he hops between worlds so frequently, while it seems like the others all have a home to go to. it’s not mentioned to him. other worlds are never mentioned here, in the world of red, yellow, and green.)

Tensions are light, and Martyn is the one that breaks it. Sue him, he’s giddy to get started, and it’s not his fault when he swings a wide, joking punch… and Jimmy moves right into its path. It’s not his fault, he’d say defensively – in the gleeful energy of the new world’s start, Jimmy is hit; the group recoils, some in momentary (but genuine) alarm; others with cackling laughter.

Jimmy looks affronted, golden wings flared in surprise before breaking into a grin. Martyn matches it, holding his hands up in defense; an ‘over the shoulder tease gone wrong’, but… he did take a smidgen of Jimmy’s health. A red spot that’ll bruise, with no way to heal itself. 

So he clasps his hands together and parts them, a heart forming in his palms. He ushers it to Jimmy with a breath of air as the group begins to split, taking the pandemonium as an excuse to get the season started! 

The bruise clears; Jimmy blinks, and his grin splits even wider. He lunges at Martyn, feathered ears fluttering, wings and arms alike open wide. 

“Gimme a kiss, gimme a little kiss—!” Jimmy chirps. 

They meet in the middle; arms interlocked, fingers interlaced. Lips pressed together so briefly. These games are thrilling and horrible and torturous and all, but… you get to know each other very well. More than you know yourself. The pressure’s low with his last win, and… well, frankly? He doesn’t feel like the Watchers would let anyone strike it twice in a row. 

For Martyn’s purposes, one win is enough for now. 

His lips tingle as they part, feet hitting the ground running in different directions. Towards the forests, towards the blossoming trees, and Martyn cannot help but think to himself — What can go wrong? 

-----

So what, they find themselves drifting back together. This game is… different. A bit more like a game. Maybe it’s the symbol of the Secret Keeper that unnerves him, and maybe he finds solace in those who remember. Occasional glances shared amidst the glee and chaos, even while they chant “FAIL” under the figure’s looming gaze. 

-----

Fire crackles. Lava burbles nearby, unseen, lying in wait. The air is heavy. Thick with sulfur, thick with heat. Pure, baking heat, devoid of humidity. Thick with the smell of blood. Shield raised, Martyn gasps as the gleaming axe swings down, slamming through the barricade of wood. The shield splinters apart in his grasp, splinters digging into his arm as he drops it. 

The brute does not wait for a cry of mercy; the axe swings back up, the blunt handle cracking against his jaw as the bone slams together; Marytn stumbles back. He — he shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t be here, but — but he needs to be. Stupidly, undiscerning, chasing that gods damned need to be better. 

His vision spins. The brute reaches into his desperate, haphazard tunnel, and grabs the front of his shirt in an unforgiving hoof. It reels back and just as quickly slams him back against the wall of the tunnel, before peeling his bloodied, beaten body off. He’s thrown to the ground, gilded blackstone splattered with blood. 

Martyn’s gaze blinks through the blood and the nausea, just in time to watch the brute’s axe complete a full arc, and slam into his chest. 

. . .

The impact carries him through the respawn, to the point that he can’t even recognize when it changed from burning, unforgiving stone to lush grass. It hurts, wounds stitched together and healed faster than he got them, and it hurts. His bisected chest forces itself back together, the skin weaving back into place; it doesn’t leave so much as a scar. 

Martyn can’t bring himself to think about that; he can’t think to begin with. His head is filled with cotton and a murky haze, blurring time and sensation together. His fingers dig into the ground ‘til the grass is uprooted. 

Light shifts, dancing over his pressed-shut eyelids; something moves overhead. There’s… voices, and his mind hums that there’s an obligation. A change in dynamics, that they’re closer to enemies than allies. 

But arms hook under his own, helping him into a seated position. His back presses against the indented form of a crafting table. There’s a bottle of water at his lips. A bowl of something pressed into his hands. Murmurs of shock, of sympathy, and there’s Grian’s voice. The warden of the games, the bastion between them and the full, unrestrained torment of the Watchers; better to make it a game than a Saw trap, y’know. 

Grian hums. A hand finds itself on his shoulder. 

“Oof – Sorry, Marytn,” Grian coos, halfway between a tease and sympathy. Through the haze, he can’t discern which he prefers. “That’s a rough way to go.” Martyn murmurs back, some kind of sarcastic response — he can’t remember what he’s saying as he’s saying it — but he doesn’t protest as bodies move around him, helping him get food and water back into his respawned body. 

He can’t remember who it is that comments, “Jimmy’s not the first death?” 

-----

Marytn’s been finding himself sore in new ways, new places. Body pains aren’t uncommon by any means, and especially not in this season. After all, with the lack of regeneration, the wounds themselves may staunch their bleeding but the impact still remains. But, after a successful day of the task force running about, and having full hearts after redeeming his task, there’s still a frustrating ache in his shoulder blades that he can’t quite reach. His scalp, too, aches, pinpricks of little stings dancing across from time to time. 

Sometimes, he finds a stray golden feather among his stuff, and wonders when Jimmy left it there. 

-----

Martyn’s grinning as he bolts down the narrow staircase, his fellow Big Dog at his heels. He hasn’t been to the End in ages! And in the life series, no less! He doesn’t give himself a moment to doubt as he hops right into the portal, and—! 

Vertigo. 

Bodies moving. Chest lurching. The excitement and adrenaline wrench themself into deformity, into something twisted, something wrong. An immediate sense, knowledge, that he’s not wanted here. That he doesn’t belong here. That he needs to get out. He stumbles forward, trying to get out of the way. 

His feet land on empty space, and he’s off the edge. The air of the end is sickening and it fills his lungs, claiming the space like it's theirs. 

As he descends further, further into the void, the outline of the dragon’s domain drifting out of sight, the more his body is theirs. Unthinking, desperate, he rips a bit out of a golden apple, feeling the briefest of reprieves before the void itself tears the vitality from him, and it keeps ripping. Thirty hearts to lose, to be torn from his body. The pinnacle of health to the most cruel and torturous death, all at their discretion. The damage eats away at his body, plummeting longer and sinking further than any player has the right to. 

The void hungers. 

Hands, ethereal and purple and sick, grab at him, fingers digging into scars and ripping them apart and tearing into his shoulder blades even though he tries so, so desperately to get out of the void. It rejects him, wholly and utterly, and it is thrilled to do so. 

He’s fallen right into the Watcher’s domain, death imminent, and they all want a taste. 

They tear him apart until all thirty hearts are torn asunder and he respawns and he’s put together wrong. 

Martyn’s back hits the bed; he’s a flurry of limbs as he rolls over, toppling off the side; the bile pooling in his mouth spills to the ground. He wretches. It’s worse, it’s so much worse than the last death. His body screams, his back aches, and his whole body feels wrong like his own bones have been torn out and fit back inside. Hollowed out. 

A shout. A thud. Jimmy spawns, and Martyn, through the screaming haze, instinctively knows that it wasn’t by voluntarily going through the portal. Jimmy groans, but is quick to look for his teammate, head whipping around. 

Marytn hears a quiet “oh, gods”, and he doesn’t process the time it takes for a person to be kneeling beside him. He’s prattling gentle reassurances as Marytn continues to wretch over the sound of his comm beeping and chirping. 

A call goes through. Grian’s voice crackles with glee — “TIMMY—!” — ready and quite delighted to tease… and cuts himself off as Martyn cries out again. His ears, his ears, they hurt. His scalp. His back. Everything feels from and something warm and wet dribbles down the side of his head. 

If he could open his eyes, he'd be able to see the purple, viscous ooze, dripping down his chin in sluggish rivulets. 

Jim speaks next. He screams for Grian to come over, that “Something’s wrong — Something’s so wrong. It’s the canary curse, Grian, it’s the curse.” 

A single wing, golden yellow and slick and limp hangs down the side of Martyn’s back. His ears are accented by feathers, torn out from under the skin, and Martyn’s sobbing. 

The wing flaps desperately, slick and wet and heavy, covered in slime and ichor like it was wrenched in place by the void itself; it slaps against the floor. 

Jimmy — lurching, unbalanced, missing a wing — stays kneeled beside him, rubbing circles into his back. He murmurs reassurances like it's a prayer, pressing a kiss to Martyn’s forehead. 

“C’mon, stay strong,” he murmurs. “We’ll get through this. We’ll… we’ll be okay.” 

[theflippedpages]

The Chiseled Catastrophe - 0 (EtN + MCYT)

(This is the start of my new hyperfixation fanfiction. Blocky YouTubers are stuffed into a death-game escape room and have to try and escape while their friends die around them. How fun. :D)

(Also, if there's any other old fics ya'll want me to update, let me know! I got nothing else to do but write this summer break, so I might as well!)

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Episode 0 - The Wax Seal

-----------

"Hello?"

"Hey, Tim," Grian's familiar voice crackled on the other side of the line, "I know you're busy with real-life duties, but I thought I should mention…" 

"Yeah?"

"...Tumble Town blew up.” And quickly added, “It’s not a joke, I swear on my life." 

Jimmy had been planning to take a couple of days off from Empires, but never once had he opened up Minecraft so fast. 

Before he could click onto the world, he spotted his web camera clutching the edge of his monitor, and he was instantly reminded of his duty as a content creator. Running a hand through his slightly damp hair and ruffling it to partially dampen his bedhead, he pulled up his recording software and sighed. 

"I was honestly planning to take a couple of days off of Minecraft to get creativity again, but," he raised his phone, "one of my friends just gave me quite a call… telling me that Tumble Town… blew up." He forced a chuckle as he began to record his screen. "Now, this could all be another bad prank to get me back into Empires… or all my months of work are actually gone."

Jimmy didn't force an emotion for a camera this time as his eyes shifted to the small sheriff plushie sitting on his desk. His heart was racing much more than usual, and he couldn't stop his eyes from blurring. He bit down on his cheek. It's just a game, Jimmy. It's just a game. He told himself, his mouse once again hovering over the 'Empires SMP' slot. It's not life or death. It's just something you do for fun. It's not actually life-threatening. In fact, this would be a great thumbnail and title. 

Blowing out his held-up breath, he clicked in and logged on. The world spawned in little sections as the white sky –wait, white?– filled his screen. Loading in doesn't usually take long… there must've been a ton to update. While he waited for it to load, he paused his recording and casually checked who was online. Some of the Empires' creators were there; himself, Joey, Scott, Marytn, Lizzie, and Joel; as well as some of the Hermitcraft players from the concluded crossover; Grian, Mumbo, Tango, and Ren. Though they had stopped recording about the ‘rift between the two servers’, the players were still interested and intrigued by the buildings and often came to visit off-camera. That's why he hadn't found it strange that Grian had been the one to call him, as he and Scar usually helped tidy and terraform the place when Jimmy was off recording 'lore' with the members of Empires. 

The name tags were less of his worry as he saw a new one join. 'Time_Is_Up joined the game.' He glanced over at his recording software, making sure it was paused. The worst thing I could do is ruin the magic of someone else's lore by showing a camera account. He looked back at the game, noticing the chat light up. 

SmallishBeans: who's that? Smajor1995: I thought it was a camera acc. InTheLittleWood: same here!

Jimmy's eyes narrowed. Was this also part of the story? No.. Someone usually mentions if they're adding an account in our group chat…

SolidarityGaming: you mean this isn't any of ours? LDShadowLady: nope, not mine Mumbo: I thought it belonged to one of the Empires members. Grian: I don't have an account named like that SolidarityGaming: Surely this isn't another ‘Xornoth’ thing, is it, Scott Smajor1995: it's not me this time, I swear!

Either someone is playing a strange prank or… wait, my empire!  He dragged his mouse down to check on the progress of his chunks loading in, reaching over to continue the recording and slipping in his headphones. Once he saw Tumble Town fully come into view Jimmy's heart nearly stopped. 

The once-thriving Wild West town now lay in ruins, its wooden structures engulfed in roaring flames that billowed smoke into the air, and deep craters dug into the red sand below. This town, which had once epitomized the rugged spirit of the frontier, was now a ghostly landscape of destruction. And to his surprise, the sky was still white…

Jimmy, the ‘Sheriff’ who had dedicated months to building up the town and establishing law and order, walked through the chaos with heavy steps. His heart weighed as heavily as the town's buildings, now reduced to smoldering piles of debris. The saloon, wagon, and jail that had once echoed with lively chatter and the jokes of his friends were reduced to ash and charred wood.

Jimmy remembered the countless evenings he'd spent on the top of the sandy crater, looking out over Tumble Town with a sense of pride. He recalled the laughter of Scott as he flirted with him, Joel playing by the TNT wagon, and the harmony that had thrived in this rustic settlement. As he walked, he stumbled upon the charred remains of the large train Scar had built, the ornate timepiece forever frozen in time at the very moment when chaos erupted. The destruction was surreal and heart-wrenching.

“Jimmy!” He instantly recognized the voice as it loudened with each yell. “Jim!” A pair of wings were flying above him, pulling back to land. “Jimmy, what happened here?” It was Scott. “Did your stash of TNT go off? Did someone…” His head moved in a circle as he took in the immense amount of damage. “...Spawn 10 Withers here? Why is Tumble Town so destroyed?” 

“I… I don’t know.” Jimmy admitted, turning to face him. “Grian called me, saying Tumble Town blew up. So I logged in… and…” He looked back into the mesa. “It’s all… gone.” The tragedy left Jimmy with a profound sense of loss. His duties as sheriff had been rendered powerless against the unstoppable flames that devoured the wooden structures. He couldn't help but feel responsible, wondering if there was more he could have done to prevent this disaster.

Smajor1995: Grian, could you come to Tumble Town pls Grian: sure

Jimmy heard the yelling of his fellow Britishman as the brunette landed beside him and Scott. “Grian, how did you know Tumble Town was destroyed?” Scott began asking before Jimmy could even say hello. “Did you see anyone or anything that blew up?” 

“No, no,” Grian shook his head, “I was actually here to steal some gunpowder for fireworks. But when I came by… your TNT wagon was lit up, and it caused a bit of a large crater. I thought it was just a silly mistake, and I turned to leave with my two stacks, but I heard more explosions…” He sighed. “And when I looked back again… there was TNT everywhere, and it was flying, and there was just… so much smoke.” 

“Could you catch any name tag?” 

“Yeah, actually, I think I saw-” Grian’s voice withered as he checked the chat. The messages flew quickly in succession.

Tango: Guys, I got a letter Grian: What letter?  Mumbo: I got one too Smajor1995: you mean, your internet bill?  Tango: no, no, like an invitation Tango: It’s like Minecraft themed RenDog: as I as well

“If you’d like, Sheriff, you could stay in my Inn back in Chromia for now,” Scott flirted, hoping to lighten the mood. Jimmy would usually push the woo away with a laugh and an assurance he’d do it on his own, but now, accepted it with a kind nod. 

“That would actually be very nice, Scott. The more I look at this, the more I feel absolutely enraged.” Jimmy tried to keep his eyes away from the destruction and toward the chat, but the flames and smoke distracted him quickly. “I’m just going to diffuse the fire… I don’t want it to expand and destroy more than it already has.” The blonde slowly trudged toward the fire as Grian monitored the lines on the screen, curious about the conversation.

Mumbo: I thought it was something from Mojang Tango: That’s what I’m thinking Grian: ooh, if it's from Mojang, have fun Mumbo: Grian, check if you got one too, the letter says 10 members Tango: 10 members from ALL over Minecraft, i don’t think they’d invite all from hermitcraft  RenDog: the letter doesn’t say ‘all’ though Mumbo: Wait, it says we shouldn’t talk about this… Tango: oh RenDog: pretend this never happened, guys. there was no letter.

Grian laughed. 

Grian: Letter? What letter? 

And the chat fell silent again as a few people began to sign off. 

Smajor1995: Btw, Jimmy’s place has been blown up, does anyone know who did it? LDShadowLady: like, in roleplay, or actuality?  Grian: Tumble Town was absolutely destroyed  JoeyGraceffa: no way

Grian frowned. 

LDShadowLady: oh my, Jimmy do you need resources to rebuild? SmallishBeans: we’d love to help, Jim Smajor1995: I’m gonna get him to stay in Chromia for now InTheLittleWood: who would do such a thing?

〰〰〰〰〰

Grian's room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the glow of his computer screen. The sounds of the faraway flicker of fire from the destroyed Tumble Town was an eerie, yet peaceful sound to listen to, paired with the quiet hum of the Minecraft soundtrack. But then, amidst the digital noise, he heard it – a gentle chime, like a distant doorbell. His head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Nobody ever rang his doorbell while he was gaming, and he wasn't expecting any visitors.

Pushing himself away from the desk, he rose from his gaming chair and padded softly across the room. The brunette reached the door, hand on the knob, ready to fling it open with a playful grin. However, when he swung the door wide, he found no one there. Instead, a simple envelope lay on the welcome mat, just inches from the threshold. He bent down, plucking it from the ground.

Is this the letter they were all talking about? The Minecraft one?

Examining the envelope, he noticed that it was old-fashioned, sealed with a wax stamp that bore an intricate design. His curiosity piqued, he carefully broke the seal and withdrew the letter from within. Grian's eyes scanned the handwritten words on the paper, and his brows furrowed with surprise as he read the unexpected message.

Dear Charles (Grian),

You are cordially invited to a Minecraft-themed party that promises to be an unforgettable experience. As you know very well through your years of continuous playing, Minecraft is a world of endless possibilities, and this event aims to bring that pixelated adventure to life. We've prepared a world full of surprises.

The location of the event is a remote area, isolated from the hustle and bustle of the city, surrounded by dense woods. Don't worry; it's far from the distractions of everyday life. You will also not be allowed to vlog through any other means, as this is meant for you and the 9 other invitees. 

This also means that this invitation cannot be talked about to anyone, whether they be of relevance to Minecraft or not. If we find out that this has been discussed, your offer will be rescinded and all your Minecraft accounts erased. I'm sure you wouldn't want that… and neither would your other invitees.

The environment may challenge your understanding of the real world and the digital realm. But remember, it's all in the spirit of fun and adventure.

Don't let the absence of exits concern you; the event will run through the night and into the early morning, with all food and hospitalities cared for and on the house. 

We understand this invitation might seem strange, but rest assured, it's all about transporting you into the Minecraft universe and creating lasting memories. We kindly request that you bring a sense of adventure and a willingness to embrace the unexpected.

Please be prepared for a night filled with enigmatic challenges, engaging experiences, and the thrill of the unknown. It would be recommended you dress up as your player skin to be recognizable to others. 

We look forward to your presence at the Minecraft-themed adventure. The date will be revealed shortly, and your transportation will also be taken care of.

 It will be an event to remember, and we hope you will leave with stories to share.

"Grian?? Oh, is he AFK?" He could hear Jimmy from his computer back in his room. He slipped the letter back into its casing and walked back upstairs. 

"Sorry, sorry, I'm back now," he blurted out, dropping the envelope beside his desk. "What's going on?" 

"Jimmy's 'bout to continue recording, we were hoping you could hide?" Scott asked, looking back at the still nametag of Jimmy's that had disappeared into the wooden ruins. 

"Oh, yes, sure." Grian was quick to murmur. "I actually think I might just head off right now." 

"Okay, yeah, have a good rest of your day then," Scott spoke as he crafted new rockets with the help of the half-broken gunpowder farm. He had to make his entrance in style, after all. How else was he going to take the spotlight in Jimmy's video?

Once he saw the brunette's name tag flicker out, Scott muted his mic and flew himself a distance over. He still kept himself within earshot of Jimmy's mic so he wouldn't create dead space in his recording. 

Speaking of, I have to start my video soon, if I plan on benefiting from Jimmy's destroyed empire. After all, this is a huge event. I have to get the first scoop before everyone else knows about it. Scott turned on his recording software and tested his mic before waiting in silence. He knew that there would be dead space in his video, but he didn't mind, seeing as he'd have to record himself in Chromia first so it didn't seem suspicious... And then get a message from Jimmy. But he can work out the kinks later once Jimmy's done with his initial panic. 

Grian said he knew who it was… While he heard the Sheriff mumbling about all his hard work gone, Scott's mind couldn't help but wonder who could've done something like this or why someone would do it if it wasn't for any story-based arc. Surely someone would've let Jimmy know before destroying his entire empire… it wasn't even a prank that could be fixed easily. Scott focused on Jimmy's words as they grew farther and farther away. 

"Oh my gosh, Norman!" Scott's eyes widened. Norman? Oh god, is he okay?

"Thank god you're safe!"

And Scott breathed out a heavy sigh. Even if it's just a few pixels, a pet in Minecraft is still a pet. 

"I better tell someone about this… who could've done such a thing! I've been nothing but nice to everyone– even if they call me a toy." 

SolidarityGaming: Is anyone nearby? Please come to my empire.

Scott took this as his cue.

Smajor1995: Anything for you, sheriff. I'm on my way.

He could hear the blonde's flustered sigh, and he couldn't help but grin at that awaited reaction. He instantly shot a couple of rockets into the sky, pulling back from the mesa only to fly in the direction of it, landing close to where he last saw Jimmy. 

"Scott, I'm so glad you're here!" 

Scott made a long motion of looking around the destroyed empire. "Jimmy, I thought this was something sweet, what on earth happened to Tumble Town?!"

"I'm asking you the same thing! I took a couple of days off, and went back to see everything in ruins!" 

"Gosh… maybe it was a stray lightning strike on TNT?" The cyan-haired tried to reason. "Maybe someone brought flint and steel a bit too close to your saloon?"

"Scott, there is barely a half-stack of TNT in Tumble Town. All my stock for trading is all in the form of gunpowder!" Jimmy grew more and more upset with each sentence. "And last I played Minecraft, gunpowder doesn't explode unless it's in a creeper, in TNT or fireworks! And two out of three of those can't create a disaster this big!" 

"Listen… being here is only going to get you further upset. Let's get you to Chromia where you can spend the night. Next morning, I'll call up the other empires and we can discuss what just happened." 

Jimmy hesitated for a moment. Scott didn't know whether it was a show for the camera or not. "Yeah… yeah, okay. I'll just… gather a couple of my belongings." 

Scott nodded, turning to fly back to the top of the crater. "Good, and make sure you grab everything valuable to you."

"Tumble Town is valuable to me." 

At that, Scott nearly broke character. This wasn't the 'Sheriff Solidarity' speaking, it was Jimmy. There was actual emotion in that short sentence. "You'll be okay, Jim. We'll find out who did it." He assured gently, slipping back into his actor-self. 

The cyan-haired didn't have to wait for long as Jimmy came back holding an Enderchest and his sheriff badge in his offhand. "Let's go." 

[hermitcatting]

Cat masterpost

HEY here's a list of all the cats I've designed thus far, plus some FaQ stuff. links to all my cat designs are in this post if you need to find them :D! Mumblewhisker - mumbo medecine cat | shorthair tuxedo tom

Cedarslash - scar warrior | scarred brown tom Sparkflame - tango warrior | gold tabby tom Littledove - grian medecine cat | tan, long furred tom Icemask - etho warrior | white and grey tom Raggedgoat - doc deputy | large grey tabby tom Moonwatcher - pearl warrior | brown, fawn spotted she-cat Mosspelt - bdubs warrior | small brown tabby tom Oceanmist - smajor deputy | blue/silver tabby tom Adderfang - cleo warrior | large calico she-cat Jimmy/Canarycall - solidarity kittypet/loner | golden tabby tom Fizzlefern - skizz loner | small tuxedo tom marytn/littlewood - inthelittlewood loner | gold tabby tom Redwolf - rendog warrior | large red-ish brown tom Crowkit - grumbot little baby | long haired tuxedo kit Magpiekit - jrumbot littler baby | small, long haired tuxedo kit (NAME PENDING) - hermes kit | gold spotted tabby kit GENERAL FaQ Q1)can I make fanart/use your designs? sure! tag me if you do, I'd love to see :D Q2) will ___ person/character be in this au? if they're in the life series, hermitcraft or empires they'll be in this au (probably)! Q3) how does the life series play into this au? good question! not sure yet... it would be lore sensitive anyways so if I end up writing this au it'll be smth addressed in that Q4) will there be comics/fanfic? comics? probably, fanfic? dont count on it lol Q5) do you take requests? if it's for a character I've yet to design then sure! or if you have little comic ideas i might do it! If you have any questions do not be afraid to ask!!! - chimera (your lovely hermitcatting account owner)

[em-allay]

MARYTN INTHELITTLEWOOD THAT WAS INSANE!!!!

[xpoolboy]

"huh i wonder how this post got so much traction, im not like in martyn's side of the fandom, lemme just check the reblog graph to see what big blog reblogged it - MARYTN INTHELITTLEWOOD HIMSELF??"

MARTYN INTHELITTLEWOOD REBLOGGED MY POST??

[ankinmonkseal]

Welcome Back King

Happy Maidtyn Monday

[lilieboo]

AHDJWJDKAJSJAHSHABJSDNJSVJKEJDKAHDKSNDKEND jimmy was in the wrong but somehow i feel bad for him.

[snaky1ello]

Hello silly snake!

Would you mind to spare me a Martyn ITLW drawing? My collection would be AMAZING to have your art in it ^^!

-The raccoon from your trash bin

VERY messy MITLW drawing lol :,)

[hoamdl]

so 3rdlife!Scott and Jimmy have their own Limbo together, a home nestled in the hills of flowers and protected by a grand stone wall. It's peace, it's Home.

But Ren and Martyn are different. Ren finds himself painfully peeling his eyes open to a harsh, cold and unfamiliar place. The snow reaches up nearly to his knees, and the winds blows harshly. This is it; the Red Winter, the Final Winter. It's what he's always wanted, right?

He walks, painfully and slowly, for a while. There is no time, so who's to say how long?

Finally, the once mighty King falls. Falls to the snowy, cold ground, wraps his frostbitten hands feebly around himself. The once grand wolfskin cape he donned as a King gives him no warmth, no solace. He closes his eyes, and lets the cold take him, lets the snow bury him forever in what he's make his own Hell.

Time passes, and yet no time at all. He thinks he may hear crunching. His ears have long since been filled with ice, his body merely a frozen corpse, unable to die.

But someone falls to their knees beside him, and the Call of the Winter gets a little quieter, just for a moment, as a voice calls out, over and over, desperate. The corpse feels himself being dug out of the snow with a newfound ferocity, desperate cold fingers grabbing at his old clothes.

His eyelids have been sealed shut with ice. He cannot see, but as he is dug out, he feels. Feels cold fingers touch his face, feels a wisp of breath on his cheeks.

"My Lord," A long pause. An eternity, if you will. "Ren,"

A sobbing voice, cracked. "Ren, please."

He find the strength the open his mouth, frozen shut be damned.

"Martyn?"

A cry, and he's lifted into arms. It's a pathetic hug, but Ren finds himself with the strength to suddenly hug back, with a force he didn't know he still had. And they hug for a while, gripping each other with a promise that ensures they'll never let go again.

Around them, the snow begins to slow, and Ren feels the creep of faint warmth blossom in his chest.

Together, they find warmth in each other. Maybe one day, the winter will give way to spring, and maybe the Red Winter was never truly fated to last in the End.

[Fin]

yeah self indulgent 3rd Life brainrot

TLDR; Ren's Limbo is an eternal winter. What he doesn't know is that he and Martyn's Limbo are one in the same, and he's far past given up after a while. Marytn, by some small sliver of hope, finds him, digs him out and then hugs him like there's no tomorrow (there's technically not, they're dead). But their bond is so strong, carrying from life to afterlife, and Ren finally realizes that even in the middle of the most bitter winter, there's always the promise of spring again.

Spring will always return.

[inthelittefrost]

Something about marytn constantly being tossed around between the watchers and the listeners

 And The Red King and the shadow queen

[psychaoticpeace]

EVERYONE THANK MARYTN FOR THE FOOD

[mx-kit]

WEN THE 2012 MINECRAFT NOSTALGIA HITS OOOOOOOOOOO