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#highlander au
bunnyreaper · 3 months
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a highland warrior of the mactavish clan is there when you need him most.
(18+/MDNI, attempted noncon)
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one minute, everything was fine, just a part of your normal routine foraging in the woods--the next, your world was turned upside down. 
you should've known better than to wander further than usual, beyond the glade which the alderman had warned you several times not to go past. 
you're leaning over, inspecting the pretty little flowers on the ground, when your face is pushed into the dirt, your arse forced into the air as your skirts are forced up and over your mound. 
"and what do we have here but the finest flower of spring?" 
you scream as you kick and squirm, desperately scrambling to find purchase on the ground in a way that will allow you to wiggle free--but the man above you, his accent familiar, is so much stronger. your shift is up as you scream yourself hoarse, fat tears ripping from your eyes in anticipation of what's to come. 
"it'll be much easier if you don't fight me, sweetness." 
time freezes as you hear a metallic clink--what your fear-addled mind assumes to be a belt buckle, until a strong, scottish accent cuts through the forest. 
"this'd be much easier if i cut ye wee english prick right awf." "off 'er, did nae one teach ye manners? and ye say we're the savages." 
"don't kill me." 
you dare to glance over your shoulder, slowly turning until you see your assailant, head tilted back with a sword right to the column of his throat--and behind him, a crazed scotsman, baring his teeth just as he bares his sword. 
the man atop of you slowly pulls off of you, moving so slowly as to not catch his throat on the sharp blade. the highlander pulls him to his full height, almost dangling by his feet as he balances in the brawny arms of the much bigger, stronger warrior. 
the sword slides along the rogue's throat, enough to draw a trickle of blood but not much more, before it falls to the side of both men's bodies.
"now, i suggest ye run before i cut ye down proper." he growls, kicking the man away as his scrambling figure almost collapses into the dirt, much like you had. the highlander lurches forward, swiping the tip of his sword expertly to lash down the other man's back--a precision strike just to wound, not enough to stop his mad dash away and out of the clearing.
you try everything within you to steady your breathing as you lay, exposed, watching your saviour watch the other man's retreating figure.  
"i willnae turn round until ye decent, lassie." he announces, his gaze unwavering from the faraway treeline. 
your limbs move shakily as you reach behind you, desperate to pull your skirts back over your rear and regain some sense of your dignity. when you're covered, you cough softly, trying to indicate that you're decent enough for the man to turn back around. 
his first order of business is helping you to your feet, brushing off as much dirt as he can from your dress, and trying to offer you his most reassuring smile.  
you gaze upon him--admiring his fine, strong arms, inked with celtic knots, and surely thick thighs hidden beneath the drape of his tartan. what most strikes you is the kindness in his deep blue eyes, despite being obscured by a jet black warpaint. 
the sense of safety that washes over you is... strange.
"name's mavtavish, john mactavish. yer safe now, bonnie girl."
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darthstitch · 1 year
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There Can Be Only One
1. 
It was an accident, as these things went. 
Like he wandered into the wrong story.  A last minute substitute on the stage, because the actor had gone and pissed himself with ale or was busy dodging some cuckolded husband, pulling up his britches over his pasty white arse as he went.  Something that prat Shaxbert could've cooked up at the last minute to keep the creditors at bay.  
Well, Shaxbert was still about a couple or so hundred years into his future.  Hob Gadling was still the half-feral, green-hooded thief of Sherwood and this... pissant with his heavy purse and his nice, shiny sword - Damascus steel - as Hob would later find out - was ranting and raving about "being the only one." 
Whatever.  Hob had been minding his own business, to be perfectly honest, enjoying a pint and this idiot was spoiling for a fight, following him all the way out here to this lonely glade in his forest.  
Hob was a quick learner, as Idiot had sat up after that gut wound, looking as if he'd too had been spurned by Death Herself.  
Hob had questions.  A lot of questions, which would have been nice to get answers to, if Idiot had been inclined to do the sensible thing and just talk things out over a pint or two.   Except that Idiot was, apparently, very interested in taking off Hob's head, if that second time that pretty sword had nearly kissed his neck was any indication.  
Well, fine, his Mam hadn't raised any fools after all and Hob was rather attached to his head.  War had also taught him that pretty notions as "honor and fair play" went right out the window in the name of survival.  
Hob wasn't carrying a Damascus steel sword but it did its job in taking Idiot's head clean off.  
He wasn't expecting the lightning that came afterwards.  
2. 
The Scotsman shook his head.  "How the hell did ye survive this long, not knowing about the Quickening?" 
Look, Hob did not go out of his way seeking out these weird, head-hunting, lunatic immortals, all right?  Nor did he expect to later wake up knowing some bits and pieces of things that he would swear up and down that he hadn't known before.  Like that song that was, maybe, kind of, possibly Greek?  Or that neat trick with the daggers?  Or being able to fight barehanded with fists and feet in this odd, almost dance-like style?  
He certainly had a few odd tales to regale his Stranger with during their centennial meetings.  But the Stranger had only told him, "You are not the same as they are, as my Sister withheld her gift from you for her own reasons." 
Still, Hob had been rather enchanted by the stars that danced in his Stranger's eyes when he sung that maybe-Greek song for him, the way his lips curved in that tiny almost secret smile.  He resolved then and there to make sure he'd coax that look out of his Stranger again.  
But there Hob was, woolgathering again, when there was this friendly immortal Scotsman who was, for once, actually willing to sit down and just have a nice peaceful friendly talk.  No headhunting today, no sir.  Just happy to answer a few questions for one confused immortal "Sassenach who wasn't too bad to share a pint with."  
The Scotsman's name was Connor Macleod of the Clan Macleod.  
3.  
Look, Hob got on with Connor a lot better than he did with his cousin Duncan.  
At least Connor had the sense to figure out that Hob was not flirting with some other fellow's boyfriend.  Hob was quite happy with his darling anthropomorphic personification of the collective unconscious, thanks very much. 
4.  
There was blood in his mouth and Hob Gadling was hurting and aching right down to his very bones.   
A thousand odd souls were lightning and fire in his blood, lending him strength and power to stay on his feet, sword in hand, against the onslaught of the Kindly Ones.  
A thousand and odd living souls were dreaming for the Lord of Dreams, Hob's beloved husband, dreaming for him a different end to his tale, rewriting what was meant to be in Destiny's book.  The children they had taught together, the little ones who knew Dream by name, the friends that they had made together, every single one dreaming, wishing, hoping.  
And Hob was here to help them all see it through.  
Step aside, Man.  We bring our torment and pain to the Lord of Dreams, not you.  
Hob spat out the blood in his mouth and grinned ferally.  "Not today, m'ladies.  Not today."   
Dream of the Endless would not meet his end today.  
-end-
*runs* 
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therapardalis · 4 months
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[New Year Smooch for @watcheradampierson.]
💋 ------------
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New Years Eve in Paris was always a sight to behold. Crowds filling the streets, music and noise, and enough fireworks to sounded like the Bastille was going down all over again.
Thera sat on a plaid picnic blanket on the roof of the barge, glass of red wine in hand and snacks nearby, courtesy of Duncan's friend Maurice, watching some of those fireworks being set up near Notre Dame. "Must be getting close, I think?" The city had turned out a beautifully clear night, if an equally cold one, and she took a quick glance at the sky before another at her watch.
"Four minutes ..." She finished her wine and curled in beside Methos, under one of the wings of his coat, and gave a grin. "Time for the music." Reaching across, she started up the player, the familiar strains of Freddy Mercury rolling from the speakers. Just in time, as the clock struck midnight, most of the city went insane, and she met Methos' lips with a kiss, for the chorus ...
'Another one bites the dust. Another one's gone, another one's gone, another one bites the dust ...'
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autumnslance · 4 months
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Graphics Updates Preview FanFest Tokyo
LOOK AT THE DARK SKIN. SHINE AND DEPTH. ACKNOWLEDGMENT FROM YOSHIDA THEY HAVEN'T LIT DARK CHARACTERS WELL AND ARE FIXING IT.
That Viera Lady has the same skin tone as my bun I am So Happy!!
Also the texture and structure changes in general, and the upgrades to the starter gear on top of that!
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trashasaurusrex · 29 days
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Lindsey, Solace, and Hana had a chance to introduce a new friend to the FC HQ, which included Lin giving Ridley a tour of her boutique.
And before then, she had been working all day on running errands lol soo she had a bit of a workout before then.
Featuring Lindsey (my WoL/OC), Solace, Hana, and Ridley (others' WoLs/OCs).
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kurtssingh · 11 months
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Commission.
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peachy-doodles · 1 month
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idc what the time is; i have been thinking about my old Sneasler Ingo nonstop for the past few weeks and HAD to revisit his design rn or id esplode 💥💥💥
the snilerrrrrs.....................
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blaiddraws · 2 years
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Your Zekrom ingo is so gargoyle-esk in half form (love it) , I can just imagine him perching on high cliffs in hisui. Like that's how Akari first meets him, it's cloudy and slightly stormy in the coronet Highlands, you look up and a pair of eyes stares down at you from above, small flickers of lightning illuminating this creature.
Then he hops of the edge and floats down like a lil'guy, waving at you until you can hear him talking! I think it'd be funni =)
it's not the cloudy and stormy you mentioned. but i had a Mental Image, you see.
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gposers · 29 days
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GPOSERS March 2024 Issue #58:  The Ties that Bind
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We are proud to present the fifty-eighth issue of GPOSERS Magazine! Join us for an issue full of wedding bliss, complete with a stunning reception full of glamorous, outstanding art from Crovius, a Community Spotlight featuring Astraea, and much more of the content you’ve all come to love.
Read on Carrd - or -  Download for later 
Tell your friends, tag us, and share the issue!
Be sure to follow us on:  Discord   Bluesky Twitter Instagram
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dragons-bones · 10 months
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"'Let's skirt the Talons' territory!' Rere says. 'Radlia's busy harassing Leofard and the Redbills!' Rere says. 'It's the fastest way home!' Rere says." Synnove adjusted the grip on her quoit as the Rohesia shook beneath another barrage from the Lady Radlia's main guns, and trained her rifle on a Talon manacutter's fuel tank. "Swiving hell, why do I listen to her, just get nearly blown off my own ship."
She fired, and the enemy manacutter burst into flame. With a grunt of satisfaction, the captain swung herself back onto the deck of the Rohesia, and stormed towards the bridge as her crew moved like a well-oiled machine around her.
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sparky-draws · 8 months
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some horsies :)
+ side by side
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darthstitch · 1 year
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*stares at the Plot Bunny*
Hob Gadling as an Immortal from Highlander.
Yes?
*facepalms*
Ugh. I'm writing! I'm writing!
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therapardalis · 8 months
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[Against the Wall Meme from @musesbymarnie's Methos.]
[ HUSH ]: as a means of getting the receiver to stay quiet, the sender covers their mouth and ends up shoving them into a wall in their urgency. ------------
Near Pont au Double, Paris, 1990s ... early evening ...
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If looks could kill ... well, Methos would most likely have kept his head, but he might feel as if he'd been skewered somewhere else. Thera couldn't say that she'd forgotten this particular wrinkle over the years, but it continued to have the most ridiculous timing.
Case in point - one second they'd been strolling along the Seine, sharing laughter, brushes of their hands and most likely little intent to read the books they'd bought for a little while, at least. The next, she had the brickwork by the bridge against her back, and his eyes were darting in a way that meant he'd sensed one of his own.
A heavy sigh puffed up to her lips, likely warming the palm he held across them, but she had the sense to keep her voice to a whisper when he moved it away.
"MacLeod?" Part logic, part hope. Mac was one of the few Immortals they knew frequented Paris, and the barge was not all that far away. And it was certainly a better option than some opportunist chasing 'Adam Pierson's' head.
"Do you want to have a look, or go back the other way?"
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libby1080 · 1 month
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Highland Martin sprite
He likes tea, sweaters, highland cows, and Jonsprite
he’s also not afraid to cut a bitch
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texff14 · 10 months
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OCs ships with size differences, anyone??
(made this due a prompt like three months ago lol)
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elliewiltarwyn · 4 months
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other peoples' AUs: literal alternate universes! incorporating inspiration from other FFs! lightwarden bad ends! changing the timelines! incredibly detailed built upon hundreds of hours of RP!
my AUs: uhhh what if tank girlfriends swapped jobs
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