#angel!skizz

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Angels do respawn (Old drawing) after Skizz, Mumbo, and Ren chamber run

[coppercrestedroses]

My team SIT designs 🙂‍↕️

[greenekangaroo]

Sharp Dressed Man

Scar closes the latest chest and has to face the music.

He doesn't own a single tie.

Not one. Not polka dot or striped or creeper patterned, not red or green or black. He's got a lot of hats, a lot of bellbottoms, and a lot of very short shorts, but no. ties.

He can't ask Mumbo for a tie, it would be the height of impropriety! He's the man's representative council! Besides Mumbo's base is laid out so strangely, there just isn't time. And what if he accidentally winds up stealing from Big Ron?

Scar sighs. Well, that leaves one more lifeline and he's got court in less than an hour. He checks on his rockets and climbs up on his train.

It's off to Skizzleman's.

-

Skizz isn't home, hasn't been around in a bit, and that's fine. He doesn't have the massive chest monsters that some of the other hermits do, and his sorted chest-room is easy to understand, unlike Doc's loftier builds or Tango's massive factory of everything.

Scar appreciates this about Skizz, and he wonders privately if the man does such a thing because he knows other hermits might have a need. If he knows how the words sometimes mess with Scar's brain, in the same way Skizz sometimes just- gets stuck on a thought.

If that's why he put the blocks beside their chests, despite it not being the most aesthetically pleasing or useful method.

Scar finds the one with the wool block- he chooses red on a whim- and yes, perfect. Red carpet, red wool blocks, red ties. Skizz has a few, he won't mind one missing for a little bit, and Scar will return it as soon as the defense rests!

(does he need to bring a bed for that? No, surely Bdubs will have one.)

Scar is mid windsor-knot- or maybe it's more a St. Louis or Aberdeen knot, since he can't actually tie a windsor- when he notices the unmarked chest.

It's in the corner, not hidden precisely but with no frame and no block. It's just a chest. Maybe it's a place to dump extra inventory? But it's not a double chest at all, only a regular one. What good is that for inventory dump?

Scar's brain doesn't quite catch up with him before he's leaned over and opened the chest.

He inhales sharp.

-

"Everyone, this is Skizz."

"Hey what's up," says the big man with a truly massive three-layered wingspan, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly like he isn't putting Grian and False to shame just by existing. "Um. Thanks for having me."

He has a nice voice, rough and low. Gem will tell Scar later that it tingles at the back of her head.

He's also armed to the absolute gills.

Scar has never seen diamond armor that patched, and he's certainly never seen a netherite polearm. The satchel that hangs at the angel's hips is bulging suspiciously with what Scar's nose tells him is probably tnt or gunpowder.

There are blades clearly sheathed on his worn gauntlets.

"Welcome to Hermitcraft," Xisuma says and then the angel smiles.

He has the warmest smile many of them have ever seen.

"Good to see you alive, man!" Tango calls and Etho whistles. The moment of grave brevity is thoroughly broken. The celebration- welcoming Skizz and Joel- begins.

-

Scar looks down at that armor Skizz had been wearing the first day. It's been expertly cleaned and once again repaired but then untouched. That's weird. Skizz doesn't develop an attachment to useable gear, for the most part. He uses it. Why wouldn't he use this?

Scar carefully turns the chestplate over and notices what he hadn't that first day at Spawn, hidden by the light of the lava they had gathered around. There are words etched into the chestplate. Runes.

Scar traces them, frowning. The angel language, maybe? Did the First Circle HAVE a language? Did-

The runes light up and suddenly, he can read them, like they were beamed directly into his head.

'here is clothed Sarandiel the Seventh Of That Name. Stand Ready For Command, Diligent Son.'

Scar all but throws the chestplate back into the chest and slams it shut, breath coming faster and fingers tingling. It had felt like that day on the beacon. The day they'd asked Skizz if he could power their world and without the words to explain it to them, he'd tried.

The day they all realized that something in the multiverse would hurt them through Skizz, if it could reach.

That the only way he could prevent it was to never do the thing he had- quite literally, he'd told Scar with that heartbreaking smile- been made to do.

"Sorry," Scar murmurs, and steps back from the chest. Why does he keep it? why does he repair it? The name is that- is that Skizz's-?

No.

No, Skizz is Skizz, and Scar has his tie, and he needs to go. Let this chest rot right here, away from Skizz and his pyramid and his games of hide and shoot with Scar. Away from feeding hermits with Tango and helping gather supplies.

Let that armor stay still and dead. Let Skizz wear all the ties he wants, away from beacons, away from pain.

Scar has to go.

He has a court date to get to.

[gwartcando]

hermitcraft high

Meet the Flock

skizz pov:

I got to the staff lounge way earlier than any angel should be awake. The room was almost empty except for the humming of the coffee machine and one very pink, very fuzzy hybrid standing beside it. They were chatting loudly on their phone—something about booking a huge venue for a student competition. “Yes, yes,” they said. “We’ll rent the biggest hall. I’m talking five hundred students.”

I liked them immediately. Loud, smiley energy. My kind of chaos.

“Hey there,” I stepped closer, trying not to seem too stiff. “I’m Skizz. He/him. Angel. Who are you?”

They hung up and grinned. “Zadef! But everyone calls me Zadd. They/them. Pink sheep hybrid. Nice to meet you! You new? Haven’t seen your wings around here before.”

“Yeah, I’m the new drum teacher,” I replied, adjusting my halo self-consciously. “First day.”

“Oh, I love that!” Zadd said, practically bouncing in place. “I handle student life stuff—recess events, competitions, team building games, staff paperwork. Basically, I’m the party planner-slash-organizer-slash-hero of chaos.”

I laughed. “That’s cool. I feel ancient though... How old are you, if you don’t mind?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Ugh. I’m forty-seven.”

Zadd waved a hand. “Please. There’s no age cap on teaching"

" Ye, they literally said that at the faculty seminar: ‘There’s no age too old to teach.’ I walked in and someone said, ‘Okay… that’s too old.’”  

We both burst into laughter. I already liked them.

“It’s nice to have another early bird around here,” Zadd said.

“Oh, just today. Don't get used to it. Chronic late arrival is kind of my brand.”

“Well, welcome to Hermitcraft!” Zadd said, as if presenting the whole school on a velvet tray. “We’ve got two new teachers this year.”

“Really? Just two?”

“Yup. You and one other lucky soul. You’re gonna love it here—the teachers are fantastic, the students are wild in the best way, and the principal’s actually pretty cool. The guidance counselor? Weird. Not bad-weird, just… really weird. You’ll see.”

“Weird’s fine,” I smiled. “I kind of signed up for weird.”

“Perfect, because none of us are ‘normal.’ We’re all hybrids, creatures, beings of some sort. Like you, an angel—and me, a sheep hybrid with a caffeine dependency.”

“That’s exactly why I applied here. I’m glad we’re not being erased anymore.”

“Exactly! We deserve space. A voice. Oh! It's nearly eight. Teachers’ll start rolling in. You’ll meet everyone soon enough.”

They grabbed their coffee and strolled out with a wink. I was left in the quiet room, buzzing from our chat and already feeling just a little less like an outsider.

[sock-hops]

In the field

[eevee-d]

Fake avian - Angel AU

Inspired by undeaddeers on tiktok

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Skizz's Wings

Angel wings!

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Hermit + (plus plenty others laters!)

Avian Grian, Angel Skizz, Imp Demon Impulse, Zombie Cleo!

P1, P2, P3