#I HAD to draw him in this outfit it’s one of my favorite hermit skins

[daily-tango-doodles]

Tango but wearing someone else's iconic style

Day 115: cleo made him a matching outfit :D

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 19- Exhaustion

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU and Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

On their way to lunch, the hermits are attacked. Jealousy rages within the guilds that are losing, but the hermits are unable to fight back. Will they even make it to the event in time? 

___________________________________________

“We make a great team, that paper birdy didn’t even know what happened to it.” Tango laughs, grabbing Grian into a headlock and playfully nuzzling his fist into the golden locks. His body aches, and he feels weak, but prideful. The other hermits around them chatter excitedly, walking down the smooth, clean roads of the noble district. Even the canals of swampwater are tiled and cleaned of dirt and debris. Streets Mumbo knows well- he grew up here. So of course he took the chance to go to his favorite cafe. 

“I’d say I’m happy with bronze, but I really wanted to beat that Mitch guy. Plus, pirates always love gold.” Cleo hums, looking at the medal around her neck. Of course, she’ll always take beating some 30 other guilds to get this medal, their moans and complaints of being beat in the wrestling challenge. She rubs her wrist, wincing. “Though I’ll admit, I haven’t felt this burnt out from magic in years. It’s like that one event sucked it all out of my body.” 

“I feel that way every time I step into the ring.” Tango states, earning a nod from Grian as well. “After day one, I could hardly get out of bed. I felt like a dragon was sitting on my chest.” A few others murmur agreement, and the conversation stops. Not for long, thanks to Grian.

“Scar, Mumbo, are you two ready to show everyone your skills?” Grian grins, fluttering to the front of the group. 

“I was born ready for the creative event. I’ve been dreamin’ about this since I was a boy.” Scar sighs, feeling giddy. He’s already got an idea in mind, building and creating within his own head. 

“I...I’m not so sure. Can’t someone else step in for me? I don’t think I can get my magic to work well enough, much less to beat the others like you all have.”  Mumbo’s terrified. He wishes he had the confidence that Scar just exudes. He has no clue what he’ll build. He’s not even sure if his magic will appear today. 

“You’ve got it, man.” Doc appears beside him, patting his shoulder. “Don’t doubt yourself, otherwise I’ll take control and make you believe.” Mumbo freezes, smiling weakly. He’s not sure if he should be comforted or not by Doc’s offer.

He turns, eyes glimmering upon setting his gaze on the cafe. He came here all the time when he was younger, before he joined the hermits. He would come here to study, to relax, sometimes just to get his favorite tea from the shop. Being back here is strange, the nostalgia mixing with nerves. What would his friends think of this place? Are they out of the normal? Doc and Grian definitely are. 

Mumbo reaches out, grabbing the door’s wrought iron handle. His hand goes right through the metal, iron warping and wiggling like air in the summer heat. “What in the…” 

The ripples cascade out, across the air and townhouses. The mosaics shatter before reforming, and the entire street is empty. But the hermits aren’t alone. “You freaks think you own this place, don’t you? That you’re anything like us? That you can just waltz into the noble district because you’ve won the past two days?” 

Doc immediately summons his magic, ready for a fight. More than a dozen other mages appear from the illusion. Torn shoulder pauldrons, glistening with gold spikes, announces them being from the Guild of Gedeon. A council guild. Behind Doc, he can hear other hermits drawing their circles, blues and yellows shimmering off the illusion they're trapped in. “Let us go, you’re messing with the wrong guild.” 

“Ohoho, win a couple of events and suddenly you think you’re a guild? No, no.” A burly man with feral eyes stares down Doc, shoving him and Cleo towards Scar and Mumbo. “You’re messing up everything. I don’t know why Magistrate Dolios let scum mar such a prestigious event.”

“Maybe it’s because he realized ‘scum like us’ are better at magic than you. Didn’t want the crowd to get bored of the same old dopey outfits and subpar spells.” Cleo’s words have hardly crossed her lips before fists collide with them, sending her splayed across the ground. Doc needs no further initiative, activating his circle and taking control of the mage that struck his friend. His eyes close, and open again looking at himself. Ugh, this body smells. He turns around, meaty hands instead crashing into the Gedeon’s own guildmembers. Three fly out of the illusion, out of the bubble that traps them where no one can watch the fight. Beneath another, the ground opens up beneath her to reveal hellfire. The flames claw at her feet, dragging her into the open chasm. Swallowing her up. 

Doc is thrown out of his puppet, head spinning and blood pooling from his own nose. Grian’s shout rings in his ear, making his head spin and splinter. He looks up, seeing the magical bludgeon disappear like a ghost from a Gedeon member. “You’re gonna regret messing with us. Messing with the order of things. You don’t belong here, none of you do.” 

The illusioner stoops low, snapping his meaty fingers and nodding the gang forward. “And we’ll show you why you don’t mess with the Council. The wrath of  the Guild of Gedeon is not something you walk away from.” 

The fight is intense. Six hermits against about a dozen combatants. What’s worse, the Guild of Gedeon is an offensive group. When the arcane guard can’t do a job, when a strongarm is needed, the Gedeons are the first in line. Cleo holds her own, blood boiling under her dead green skin. Her sword doesn’t back down from a fight, and neither does the poltergeists she summons to aid in the attack. She’s exhausted, but that doesn’t stop her from being in the middle of the battle. Doc jumps from person to person, tapping into their magic and turning it back onto their own teammates. Scar does his best to protect Doc in the process, throwing up walls of rock only for them to be crushed by a volatile spell shot their way. 

But they aren’t winning. Cleo and Doc’s attacks aren’t enough to stave off the fights and fragments of magic flown their way. Tango’s magic is all but gone, sapped from his body. Where did it all go? He had it all this morning, and the bird chase event couldn’t have been enough for him to lose it all! Even worse, Grian’s magic sputtered and died halfway through his attack. Mumbo peeks out from behind Scar’s barrier, hissing with pain as a bolt of hot rock is flung against his forehead. “Grian, what in the world is going on with your magic?” 

“I...I don’t know, Mumbo!” He flicks his wrists, but nothing happens. His arms snap in a quick dance, and he does manage to summon his spell. The wind is hardly more than a summer breeze in his hair. “It’s not there, I’m drained of magic, of energy! But how, I hardly used anything!”

“It’s like you’re me!” The four hiding behind the wall are crushed as the rocks collapse. Trapped, unable to fight off the onslaught. Scar can only block the worst attacks, but bruises and cuts blossom across the hermits.

Until the bell of the capitol building tolls a single time. As quickly as the fight started, it stops. Scar lowers his walls and arm, brushing the blood from his cheek. Immediately, he searches for his friends. Doc struggles to his feet, ready to fight. But Cleo, Grian, and Tango look like they’ve been fighting for hours. They’re completely out of magic, skin pale and eyes glazed with weakness. Something is very wrong. Is there a suppressor mage here? No, that would affect everyone. Mumbo scrabbles backwards, wrist hanging limp. “Good luck getting to check in for the rest of the events, freaks. We’ll see who’s in the labyrinth event now.” 

The illusion drops, and the busy street returns. Bustling crowds, horse-drawn carriages and carts passing by the hermits. As alone as when they first arrived at the cafe. People step around them, glancing at the battered group but never offering help. Scar gasps, wobbling to his feet. “The competition! Mumbo, we’re going to be late!” He pulls Mumbo to his feet. 

“You guys go ahead.” Doc growls, sitting down on a pile of rubble. He rubs blood off of his cheek. “I don’t think the others can get up. They’re too weak.” 

“What caused that? How could Grian not use his magic?” He’s an S-Class, he has ultimate control of his magic. But he acted like he was...well, Mumbo. And now? Now his friends are hurt. They lost the fight- no, they were thrashed. And he wasn’t even able to do anything. 

“I don’t know, but I have a sneaking suspicion who the dark mage is now.” Doc waves the two off, before snarling. “Go! I’ve got the others!” And he’ll be sure Gedeon’s leader, that monster Sidero, gets a taste of what he just did to his friends. He must be the dark mage, trying to stop them. 

But as Doc watches Mumbo and Scar flee, and he helps Grian, Tango, and Cleo to their feet, he’s only made them angrier. 

_____________________________

“How am I...gah, how am I supposed to take a giant cat statue and make it move?” Mumbo hisses, looking up at the relief. Scar’s winning sculpture for the creative event was incredible. He could practically see every hair and whisker of Jellie, carved from stone using her owner’s terraforming magic. Even her wings are feathered, each barb as thin and interlocking as the real thing. It’s easy to see why Scar won the creative contest, hands down.

And here he is ruining it all with his own magic. The council really outdid themselves, pulling a twist like this. His magic falters, and the redstone dust collapses to the ground. Mumbo’s chest feels heavy, lungs pressed and heart clenching. His head feels dizzy, and his magic is nearly impossible to tap into. Surely this is all just nerves? But even Scar looked exhausted, like he was struggling to breathe, to stand after his magic. Exactly what Grian and Tango looked like. 

What’s happening? He can’t help but look over his shoulder. Other guilds are working on the creations their teammates created. Whatever was before them, they had to automate. And from what Mumbo can see, most others are well ahead of him. Especially Ian, deep in the bowels of the contraption Sky had built. He can be heard swearing, the conductive gold making his machine move when he doesn’t want it to. At least Mumbo doesn’t have to worry about that. 

But that doesn’t mean he can do it. The redstone dust falls apart, showering the ground beneath him. He’s going to disappoint everyone, he’s going to ruin Scar’s wonderful statue. He’s going to be the only wizard in this event that can’t even get the thing to move! He falls to his knees, the pressure mounting in his lungs. Making it hard to breathe, crushing in on him. And he’s exhausted, even though he’s barely used any of his magic. He can’t even get it to appear. Like always. All this work, all his hopes to win, will mean nothing if he can’t get his magic to summon. He’s a multi-mage, but he can never prove it. He can never show off his powers, and it’s exactly why he could never join any guild. Looking around, he can see all the guilds in the field he applied to. All of them said no, laughed in his face and ridiculed him when his magic failed to show itself. And now here he is, proving them all right. Making a laughing stock of the Order of Hermits. 

“You can do it, Mumbo!” He picks his head up, looking around. He doesn’t recognize that voice. It takes him a moment to realize it’s not coming from any of the hermits. The voice is loud, echoing over the crowd’s low roar. It’s Ecto, one of the wanderers. Beside her, the other two teammates are cheering him on as well. Red’s practically bouncing in his seat, about to fall over the railing as he yells as loud as possible.

More voices join them. He can hear Iskall, shouting for him to breathe, to remember his training. He can hear some sort of soliloquy being written across the sky, intertwined with Joe’s voice. Zedaph and Impulse are holding up a sign, nearly knocking False and Wels with the board. Even the rest of Team Crafted was cheering for him. TFC is watching Mumbo, blue eyes gazing through silvery hair. He gives a small nod and a smile, his own way of showing his encouragement.

All of the hermits are his family, the family he never had. A family that would support him, help him, be with him no matter what. That never gave up on him. And TFC was like the father he never had, with a calm voice as smooth as obsidian and as strong as diamond. Someone he could go to with all his fears and faults, and know he wouldn’t be ridiculed or put down. That TFC would listen, and offer sound advice. Advice he can hear echoing in his head now. “It isn’t about the amount of times you fall down, Mumbo. It’s about how many times you get back up.” 

So he gets back up again. He brushes the sand and dirt off the black fabric of his trousers, ignoring the physical pain in his chest and the unwieldy way his head spins. He closes his eyes, hand outstretched. In his mind, he can see his magic circle. The ninety degree turns ending in dots, the petal-like curls from the center. His hands move unconsciously, following the pattern of motions he created. It’s like ramming open a door, trying to find his magic. Trying to connect to it. But once he’s in, it washes all over his body. 

He opens his eyes, his circle cast and the redstone moving to his bidding. Climbing up and ingraining in the pores of Scar’s stonework, following lines weathered through the rock. Lightning shoots through the circuits, from his fingertips and breathing energy into the cat. The haunches of the massive statue move, toe beans uprooting from the sand as Jellie comes to life. Redstone dances across her granite tail, flicking side to side. Mumbo can’t help but laugh, knocked over into the sand by a giant stone cat head rubbing into his chest. Scar’s incredible creation, brought to life with his redstone magic. Given energy through his lightning. 

Statue Jellie opens it’s mouth to meow, but no sound comes out. She turns her head, gazing across the crowd surrounding her. Her eyes stop at the crown seat, where the Council sits in awe. Redstone turns on all across her body, his magic branching out onto each hair as it rises and her back arches. “Whoa, what’s all that about?” 

Mumbo has never seen Jellie hiss at anyone, and even if this stone statue is just a version of her, his magic seems to have brought her to life. And her eyes are as thin as paper, ears turned back and hissing as she faces the Council. Mumbo runs over to the massive kitty, trying to calm her down. Lightning spreads across the redstone, forcing the stone statue to calm. For a second, Mumbo swears he can hear Magistrate Dolios’s voice, though his head is swimming from exhaustion. “Well done, boy. What i wouldn’t give for such...raw power. Soon.”

[inviouswriting]

Past

Aymeric x Kiya

milder smut

During their stay in the Hermit Hovel, Kiya and Aymeric read a lot of the books on the shelves. They had discovered quite a few erotic romance tomes and read them together. Kiya felt a twinge of shyness whenever they came across a spot in the book that was explicit, she would shift closer to Aymeric. There were many moments where they got lost in the passion of the book and he would pepper kisses on her neck to draw her attention to him.

They were in one of those moments, the book was more of instructions on positions or how to please. Aymeric took and put everything he read into memory as well as tested these ideas on his beloved. They had retreated to the water outside or on rare moments when completely enraptured. Aymeric took his love on top of the tables.

Aymeric preferred the water, it allowed him to move with her without preparing so heavy. He had her once completely on her back and waist raised to where he had her hold his hands to keep support. The rain that fell on them made the experience one of his favorites to see Kiya so lost in bliss he recalls in his mind how tight her hand held his.

Now he had her in his arms and read to her from the text. He would feel her shift closer till his voice lulled her to sleep. He’d stop reading when her breathing evened out and tug her close into his arms. 

Aymeric had never thought that the time he would spend with her would be spent discovering so much about the other. She had donned the outfit she had left her tribe in and showed him a sultry side of her as she had danced for him giving him a lasting memory as he took her then. There were quiet moments together talking about their lives. He shared stories of his youth, she shared many of her adventures before she became the eikon slayer. How she use to work at the Gold Saucer as a server. He had recalled her there a few times when he and other knights snuck to gamble at the race tracks. 

He vaguely remembered her, she had to be around nineteen while he was twenty two. It was before he had his own fateful events with his band that left only he and Estinien alive. He remembered how the other knights at that time had tried to harass her. The men laughed as they walked away from her. 

Aymeric steps back from the group seeing her casting spells quicker than the others could react. Fire and ice hit his companions while he stares on after them. He looks back at the girl seeing the fury in her eyes. Even he felt fear from them, she gives him a glance debating whether she wanted to throw a fireball at him, or ice when he waves his hands. He didn’t do anything to her.

“Easy!” He backs up and she lowers her hands down. He glanced over to his group. The men that sported burns had groped her, while the ones hit with ice made comments and whistles. He himself reprimanded them fierce about harassing other women. 

“Would be that you guys deserved it! If you all had half a brain between your lot, you would have noticed her scepter! Miss! I am terribly sorry for my companions. They are idiots who have not seen women dressed so... well... scantily..”  He apologized to her for his company. She gave him such a cold stare he still remembers the anger behind her green eyes that it made him shiver in memory. They had went their separate ways then.

He poured himself into his training, Kiya poured into hers till he had heard that Ifrit had been slain by two survivors.  Ten years had pass since that one encounter. Aymeric became Lord Commander, while Kiya had become a warrior that had survived Ifrit’s fire, then Titan, followed Garuda. Every single being that came to fight her had fell. He became enamored by her tales. How she with another group of people took down the castrum and Gaius.

Then Leviathan. She has recounted to him that despite the fact Leviathan was a primal. The great sea monster was her favorite fight. It was raw, it was alive, it was a fight between not falling off into the depths, while the serpentine monster lashed and summoned creatures. People lost to the sea in hysteria, till she had taken it down. The light in her eyes at talking about the fight.

As they shared their stories, Aymeric became aware of how much she had achieved in years, he had his own, but he was no warrior of light. He felt a little envious towards her prowess in few moments. He shoved those feelings aside as this woman who sat nestled in his arms divulged her life to him. When she remembered he was that young knight in training that apologized for his companions she gave him that one stare. Then laughed when he panicked earning him pinning her down for his retribution on her.

The turn of events of her becoming the warrior of light, and him with his heritage as the archbishop’s son.

They shared their first impressions of each other. She knew his from when he first told her about his fascination in her. He scoffed when she thought him pompous at first.

“Me? Pompous? What gave you that impression?” He questioned as he lain on top of her with his hands beside her head. He had to know.

“It was Alphinaud’s words! He had told me you Ishgardians were stand-offish and set in your ways! So I had assumed you would act all high and mighty! I thought you were going to be this old crotchety man. Not some young and handsome guy.” This earns a laugh out of him as he placed kisses on her face.

“Old? Crotchety? Forgive me if I dashed your expectations.” Aymeric says haughty and amused. Kiya lines one of her hands with his, marveling at how the size between their hands are. His so much bigger than hers and he tilts his head at how small hers are closing his fingers on hers easily.

“I think I like the fact you were a lot younger. If I had been faced with one of the devoteds.. I don’t think we’d be here today.” The thought makes him frown at how easy this opportunity would have slipped them. They would have been overrun by Vishap breaking their barriers and probably have died defending his home from so many dravanian. Her mere presence turned that fight. Her and the adventurers that came to their aid.

They pause to share a kiss with each other. Kiya leans more into it, while Aymeric runs the back of his hand against her face tender feeling her skin. They lounged a lot together nude and in the comfort of the others arms. The only time they really need clothing was to make a trip to camp overlook for provisions.

Kiya notes at just how much the man over her has grown from that knight that scolded his mates for grabbing her to a alliance leader and now husband to her. They keep their kiss till Aymeric parts it to look her in her eyes checking to see what sort of mood she is in. When he sees how she matches his own stare. He inclines his head down to hers to seal another kiss.

The book they had been reading forgotten next to them as they get lost in an emotion together of realizing just how much is between them. She urges him to allow her to fit on his lap and he guides her as she does. He listens to her sighs and whimpers she makes whenever she takes him on he cautions her about being reckless with having him in her so sudden. He tries to move but is met with a sight that makes him stop altogether in pained tears.

“My love.. you can’t just mount like that.. you know how large it is.” He scolds her as he tends to her pulling from her. He showers her face in kisses and holds her to him.

“If we were in the water it would be different. or an oil used. We can’t go dry my love.” He soothes her through his touch, he has her lie back and checks to make sure he didn’t tear her.

“I’m sorry Aymeric. I just felt in the moment.”

“I understand that my love. But you know the prep I do is for a reason. So I don’t hurt you by accident like this.” He rubs her gently, to sooth the ache from the poor penetration done. 

“I still want to...” She is met with his concerned stare, and Aymeric sits more upright.

“Will you let me lead then? Make it all the better?” Kiya nods and he has her on her back now, he tends to her, his mouth used to please her till her toes curl against his back where her feet press against it. Once Aymeric knows she is prepared to his liking and knows she is more accepting to his length. He takes her slowly, just to be sure she isn’t still in pain.

Aymeric gets her to keen out in pleasure as he moves within her. Pleasure across her face, he sighs in relief at her feeling it better than earlier. He is in bliss himself at the way she is to him. Soon he has her saying his name, he can’t help letting his mind drifting to that woman he met those years ago. The one that gave him such an angry expression is now beneath him looking at him in need and chanting his name as if it is all she knows how to muster.

Kiya holds onto him after they had peaked together. He jumps down from where the bed is with her in his arms to take her to the pools of water. To let her waist soak in warmth to ease the tension in her thighs and soreness in other spots from him being over eager.

“Funny how... you and I became so intricately bound together now. What were you doing at the Saucer then?” Kiya murmurs as she rests her head in his lap, Aymeric simpers a smile down at her, his blue eyes shining bright as he locks eyes with her vivid green ones. 

“Aye. We were there to bet on some races. Some foolery on our half before we went to respond to a dragon sighting.” Kiya’s eyes widen at his words remembering the story he told her from when he met Estinien.

“That was then?” He nods, Kiya feels a little bad about their encounter then. He tugs her cheeks a little.

“Do not look at me like that. While I lost those companions, it reshaped my thinking and well here I am now. A knight, married to a beautiful woman. Who also happens to be a powerful black mage.” He cups her face to lean down to kiss her.

She notices he does not use the titles. She smiles even more as when they began their pilgrimage they excluded all titles and their roles. Aymeric had donned a bow to leave his sword behind to fully focus on them in their marriage. She notices even more how they’re so comfortable now. 

“How do you feel? Not still sore?” Aymeric breaks her thoughts checking on her from earlier. She stung just a little bit still.

“A little bit.” Aymeric feels a little guilty. if he wasn’t so big he wouldn’t worry so much. He at least made her feel good erasing the pain she felt, but he had to be sure in their times together to make sure she doesn’t try to repeat that move.

“You my love, while I enjoy loving every ilm of you. You have worn me out from all the fun we did today.” He sees her grin, he collects her into his arms letting her cling to him so he can climb the ladder with her up to the bed.

Getting her into his arms to actually rest, he moves the book they neglected then lays where it was. He notices how she seems to beam happiness at him. Making many secrets between them in how they see the other in different ways each day.

Aymeric takes her leg hand to kiss her ring, a steady habit he has gotten into to do it every chance he gets to. He pets her face until she drifts to sleep again. He joins her afterwards making sure she is secure in his arms under a blanket.