kink meme 1.0

[likedillinger]

By popular demand...

Our First Ever
Knights of Legend Kink Meme

 

What is a kink meme? Pretty self explanatory, actually. You request a pairing and a prompt/kink anonymously, and someone else (or several someone elses for that matter) will be able to fill that request- also anonymously (unless they choose to do it logged in). Fun way to get fic, fun way to find fic to write, and good if you're embarrassed to post! Fun for the whole fami- oh. Er, maybe not. You know what I mean! (Note that while this is called a kink meme, the rules are pretty fast and loose. Nonexplicit fic is also allowed, but there is generally a focus on kinky stuff or some form of character relationship of a sexual or romantic nature.)
 

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Rules

♦ Post requests and responses in the comments to this post.
♦ Be respectful. 
♦ Both a pairing/character AND a prompt/kink must be posted.
♦ One pairing/prompt per comment please.
♦ You are encouraged to try and write one prompt for every request you make.
♦ We are slash, femslash, het, three-and-moresomes etc. friendly.  Also pegging.
♦ No pairing bashing. No need to wank over ships.
♦ Long and short fics (drabbles) welcome. Multiple responses encouraged!

Have fun!

Comments

spoilers- it's not that sexy

[(Anonymous)]

The horrifying part of it is how little changed at all.

Not that Descant has any real concept of how horrifying it is- as far as he knows, the path he walked before was a far more terrible concept. What Iscariot gave him wasn't the death he'd screamed about right up until the moment he no longer had it in him to cry out for his old godless, heathen ways, but clarity.

(I was blind, but now I see.)

But Father Descant was merely a subdued version of his satanic counterpart. The only time he spoke the Lord's name was in its proper context and he knew precisely when to shut his mouth and when to kneel, all traits that Des had lacked. Beyond that, he remained as he ever was- dryly sarcastic, more invested in handguns than blades, and probably far more charming than any priest should be allowed.

Maxwell thought it was amusing. Anderson found it aggravating, but since the other man had stopped calling him Scotty since he came over to Iscariot's side, he had less to complain about. And, really, the two of them were shaping up to be a formidable pair. Two Iscariot regenerators did more damage than one.

It worked especially well on those... difficult missions.

~*~

"Ye understand what we're doin', Descant?"

Des checks the rounds in his revolver- he was granted enough grace to keep his preferred weapon in exchange for him picking up a few decidedly more deadly weapons. And even still, they'd had it modified. Let that heathen bitch Buffy Summers say that guns don't work on demons now.

"Thought that much was obvious." He snaps the cylinder closed with a flick of his wrist. His leather jacket had been traded in for a cassock ages ago, but it looks odd on his lanky frame. Everything about him these days is odd from his deadpan tone to the dead look in his brown eyes. Anderson's not in a state to care, so long as the bastard does what he's told and respects that the reason he's doing it is in the name of the Lord.

"These are your old friends." Anderson's grin widens, showing too many teeth, as he reaches over to adjust the dangling cross necklace that's gotten twisted up awkwardly somewhere along the way. Descant has this habit of fidgeting. "Wouldn't want you t' hesitate."

"Why would I do that?" Des throws back the switch on the revolver, switching it to the shotgun. Anderson's familiar enough with the idiosyncrasies of that weapon to appreciate the gesture. It means he's unconcerned by the amount of damage he's going to do to these people. More importantly, it means he's going to delight in it. "No heathen or heretic is a friend of mine. They kept me blinded. Death's almost too good for 'em."

"But it will suffice t' make certain the Black Scourge doesn't slip away this time."

Descant smirks, swatting Anderson's hand away as the other man continues to try to untangle the knots he's made in the chain. "If you want his head, just say so. I can aim low."

"You worry about the girl." Anderson chuckles dryly at the swatting. "It'll take more than a bullet between her eyes t' take her down." He nods at the sword hidden by his coat. "Just like we practiced."

"I remember," Descant snaps, suddenly impatient. The two of them stare each other down, as if waiting for the other to flinch or show some sign of weakness. Descant doesn't so much as blink and Anderson withdraws, satisfied there's no ulterior motive there. Even after everything, it's hard to shake the idea that a charlatan bastard like Descant can ever really change, regardless of what they fill his head with.

"Put some of that fire into th' battle and we'll back in Rome before supper."

You can take a lot out of Descant, but his appetite will always win out. This time it's his turn to bare his teeth in a manic grin. "You promise?"

Anderson slaps him across the back, urging him forward with a muttered 'get on with it you.' He glances across the street to the building they've been observing for the past hour and a hard look comes into his eyes. "And I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked for their iniquity-"

"- and I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible," Des finishes. The two exchange sidelong glances and then add a solemn, "Amen" together before proceeding across the street.