thinking about a wider-mcyt like. death network. like their are several reapers/gods that all watch over/take care of different aspects of death. kristin is in charge of permadeaths (hardcore/limited lives servers), zed(eath) is in charge of like. a few respawnable worlds- not all of them because i imagine with there being so many more of them and them each having so many more deaths its a big responsibility. pix works part time with just the one world (empires). i don't actually watch that many smps and it seems a common enough trope so if theres anyone else from another smp that would fit feel free to add on :D
zedaph is so funny like what do you mean he went around to all his friends on halloween dressed as death and said “please kill yourself immediately” and they all did it no questions asked
i accidently make ships just purely by the hermits interacting on fics im working on.
Have a ship or two that i know won't ever have fans:
Joehills x Zedeath
Pearl x Doc
Wels x Mumbo
Im gonna be stuck here a while :')
I see you’ve got your ticket to rarepair hell, welcome in. Copium is on the right and the fanart and fanfiction tools are on the left. Enjoy your stay!
Joe works late night, not because he needs to or anything. He just do because that's just your average Joehills, even if he is a teeny tiny bit of tired. After several nights of just working, he often hallucinate a figure in dark cloak with their face hidden that somehow talked him to sleep.
Zedeath on the other hand, is making sure Joe doesn't die of overworking... And maybe after years of doing that, they might have been enchanted by the way Joe plays with words like poems and his hilarious traits.
They seem to be more endearing the more tired he is (and perhaps the closer to death he is... Zedeath wouldn't be surprised if that's just his biases coming in though).
Here’s a little teaser for an AU I’ve been working on for quite a while now! Feel free to ask any questions or anything, maybe one of these days I’ll actually finish it…
The one thing no one told you about the place between was how horrendous the lighting was.
Seriously, how was Zedeath supposed to make sure his hood was just the right degree of menacing in these conditions? Too menacing and he scared the souls away, but not menacing enough and he wasn’t taken seriously. It was a delicate balance and Zed had been struggling to find the perfect middle ground for the longest time.
And today of all days he really needed to make sure he got it right. Today was going to be the day. He had been trying to reap this one human off and on for nearly a month now and every time he had failed.
It was quite cartoonish actually, and Zed would be laughing if he wasn’t so annoyed. It was like one of those cartoons where the character gets completely flattened by an anvil and then walks away like nothing happened. Just replace the cartoon character with a mailman, the anvil with an air conditioner, the flattening with a broken arm, and the walking away with a trip to the hospital. At that point the metaphor started to dissolve… but still.
Zed was done playing around. This mailman was going to die today whether he liked it or not. In all likelihood the mailman would in fact not like the experience, but then again reapers weren’t exactly known for their customer service.
He began polishing his crook, careful not to nick his finger on the sharp edges.
This time, the metaphorical air conditioner was not going to miss. Or wouldn’t the anvil be the metaphor and the air conditioner the thing it was metaphor-ing?
The point was, Zed was going to get that soul one way or another. It was a task long overdue, and Zed wasn’t going to fail again.
That mailman had already gotten a month’s worth of extra life, certainly he couldn’t be mad after Zed had done him such a favour?
Alright, enough stalling. It was time to do this. Zed took a deep breath. He didn’t exactly need to breathe, partial corporeality and all. But still, the action was calming, comforting. Similar to how it worked for the living.
Zed flipped his crook over in his hands a few times. Now it really was enough stalling. Hopefully his hood was the exact right amount of menacing.
Alt Hermit day!!! This is not in the au of the hermit-specific prompts, this is more... General Hermitcraft fic, I suppose.
By which I mean last year I recognised the skin used for Mystery Hermit and went 'hmm I wonder if I can do something with that?'. This year I am no longer asking, I am DOING. So please, give it up for Zedeath and his delightful minions - MorbidMoon, RenTheGrim, and EthosEnd!
References to MCD, but in the silliest and least permanent ways possible.
And, especially as this is a charity event inspired fic, please do check out @hermitadaymay for details on their fundraiser.
Ficlet below the cut!
The first problem with having associates is knowing what to call them; associate is too clinical, and colleague a reminder of work. Friend is overly presumptuious, junior sounds American, and apprentice gives the false impression that they may be being paid. These ones certainly aren't bosses or doctors, though Zedeath does a fine Bugs Bunny impression if you ask him while tipsy, and servant leads to unrealistic assumptions of wages.
Depending on the job, the ideal terminology can vary. Zedeath, in all his spooky glory, personally prefers minions. Zedlife's little friends, doing a little community service in return for Zedeath paying a blind eye, and allowing them to keep living their lives.
Really, skimming over the current batch of trainee reapers, Zedeath is just glad he isn't seeing repeat customers this year.
"Good morning, gentlehermits," he greets them with a bored voice and sarcastic clap, the exact motions and words that his living counterpart might use, corrupted. "You have been summoned here because, in the past year, you have died. I, however, have a little deal with your friend Zedaph; he has gathered three of your friends, who will attempt to guess who you are. You will be silemced, and confined to specific tasks and arenas. Be guessed, and you may return to your lives, no harm done."
Pearl puts up her hand, all polite.
Zedeath points to her "yes?"
"And if they don't guess us?"
"Oh, you can go back to life then too," Zedeath dismisses the idea with a wave of his hand. "It's just about the drama. I used to just let you go, but the other deaths started getting annoyed. So, community service."
"How is this community service?"
Zedeath shrugs, "that's Zedlife's area. I just herd you."
Rendog sniggers; when glared at, he clears his throat and asks something utterly unrelated to why he was amused.
"Lord Zedeath of the Dead," he says, as dramatic as Zedlife had warned. "Do we also get cool nicknames? Can I be RenTheGrim?"
"Sure." Zedeath... Zedeath could not care less about what these soon to be living ghosts get up to. "You will have to wear uniforms for the event, though; we can't have your actual appearances give you away."
With a swoop of his hand, he reveals three more versions of his own robes, just dyed in various colours - midnight blue, dried-blood red, and... dark green.
His minions sumarily igore it.
"I could be- no, that doesn't work..." Pearl mutters to herself, before finally snapping her fingers. "MorbidMoon! Etho? What about you?"
"EthosEnd."
... Zedeath would call him out for having his name inside the nickname, but then again, he would rather not have the torture of Expirema (bad) or CorpseFan135 (worrying) again. At least Tanstop was so terrible it was funny.
"Whatever you want," Zedeath says, despite knowing that between the names and coloured robes even his boomingly deep voice cannot save his reputation. "Just get dressed. Zedlife nearly has your detectives ready, and I still have to show you to purgatory."
"Is that what we're calling minigames now?" EthosEnd asks, clearly amused. "Purgatory?"
"What else would you called Decked Out?" MorbidMoon replies, flippant. "Queen of Purgatory has a good ring to it."
"No," Zedeath corrects. "That's hell."
"Even better!" She cheers. "Queen of Hell it is!"
"I'll beat you this time," EthosEnd corrects. "And then there shall be a KING of Hell!"
"You wish!"
Zedeath zones them out, focusing instead on RenTheGrim. Unfortunately for him the man is just as, if differently, dramatic, and stood there... practicing voices?
"I am... DEATH! MWAHAHAHA!"
"That's my line," Zedeath keeps his seething possessiveness beneath a booming monotone.
"Oh, sorry dude, I was just practicing. With these funky robes and all, I though I should get into character, you know?"
Zedeath, frequently tempted to do the same by his own robes, knows exactly.
Still he pretends to be above such things.
"No."
"Oh..."
"Regardless, you will not be able to speak during this affair, RenTheGrim - any of you, my minions," Zedeath raises his voice just a little, catching attention.
"But-"
A nudge from elsestairs.
"No more questions," Zedeath interrupts, lacing together the silencing spell. "Now, go through that curtain; your challenge awaits."
They clearly try to say goodbye, fail, and then wave instead. MorbidMoon drags the other two to the curtain with her, and then they are gone.
Zedeath turns, and flops onto his settee, flicking on the tv so as to watch the nonsense about to unfold.
Another successful year of avoiding his deathly duties, and here's to many more of them.
