Zalgo's Collected Drabbles Thread

[TheInfamousMan]

The fuck did I just read?

Just joking.

Great crack, especially with Ryunosuke and Tyson.

[Kyte]

I wish I knew more about boxing to properly appreciate this.

[Imperial]

Lancelot-Arturia has nothing on the Ali-Frasier rivalry.

I actually do know a fair bit about boxing, so I really appreciated the little touches. (I trained as a boxer for a while, but I never quite made it to the ring. I dropped out to pursue an acting gig.) I was especially happy to see Jack. Ali gets all the fanfare, but Jack was a better boxing smartass. And he did it with infinitely more class.

[Zalgo Jenkins]

Lancelot-Arturia has nothing on the Ali-Frasier rivalry.

If Ali hadn't contracted his illness, I suspect that Frazier would still be pushing for a fourth bout.

I actually do know a fair bit about boxing, so I really appreciated the little touches.

To be honest, I wasn't quite sure whether to post this at all because it's an obscure sort of topic. I'm glad somebody enjoyed them.

(I trained as a boxer for a while, but I never quite made it to the ring. I dropped out to pursue an acting gig.)

You know, this sounds like it has an interesting story of its own.

I was especially happy to see Jack. Ali gets all the fanfare, but Jack was a better boxing smartass. And he did it with infinitely more class.

Yep. Jack was the only guy I could really see with Kirei: razor-sharp intelligence, a hedonist who didn't give a crap about what the world thought of him, tough as nails, a consummate troll, and a pretty vicious SOB when you annoyed him.

- - - Updated - - -

I wish I knew more about boxing to properly appreciate this.

I wouldn't worry about missing much. It's just random silliness.

[LunarLegend]

I just finished Sour Grapes.

Hot DAMN, that was clever. Shinji Matou, metagaming bastard! The little bit about Sakura not calling out Shinji on his motives was a nice, sweet touch as well.

[Zalgo Jenkins]

Reshuffle

From the Fanfic Ideas thread: "Shinji as a Tohsaka adopted by the Matous, plus Rin as a Matou from the outset."

[Or if you prefer, Shinji in Sakura's place, Sakura in Rin's place, and Rin in Shinji's place.]

Told, of course, from Shinji's less than endearing perspective

Spoiler

It took me a while to realize that Matou wormcraft is its own medication.

Not that you would've convinced Shinji Tohsaka of that during the Fourth War. Sex and puberty meant nothing back then. Not to him. Not to the prideful little snot who'd smiled at Zouken Matou like he was fate's own gift to a dying bloodline. (I was, but not in the way I'd thought.)

The only thing that did matter to Shinji Tohsaka back then was that the worms had shoved themselves into his body, through places they weren't supposed to go, and I was bleeding, and I was too tight with pain to scream.

But the real cheap shot in that whole episode? Personally, I'd like to nominate all the stories Dad had read to me (back when he'd cared) where whenever the hero would get into something too painful, he'd pass out. Writhing in agony? Bam. Instant unconsciousness.

Which would have been really helpful, except...Oh. Right. Doesn't work that way. You just lie there with something slurping its way up through your insides, body rigid from pain and -- of course -- fear that you've just felt your organs moving for the first time, and don't want them to spill out. Or that those jaws pushing their way through you will start chewing.

You believe that you must've done something wrong. Or that your new "family" has made a mistake. Or both. Because this sure as fuck isn't what Dad told you to expect from being a Matou.

You just wish they'd tell you what you did wrong, and let you apologize. Yes, apologize. That's the first surprise, incidentally. How quickly you'll scream "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" when you can't remember what you did. Like it's suddenly the most natural thing in the world to know it's your fault.

Shinji Tohsaka? He didn't apologize much. Not to anybody. That's why it took him about five seconds to drown in that pit, and why Shinji Matou hobbled out wearing his body and face.

Of course, the crowning humiliation only comes in retrospect. That's when you realize that the Matou girl -- the one with the pigtails who never shuts up -- saw the whole thing. You know this because you limp past where she's kneeling at the stairs. Can't muster the energy to step over the spot where she vomited.

You smell it on your feet the next day, when you're lying in bed and don't want to get up, or eat, or do much at all, really. Not even whimper.

And then there's seven-year-old Rin Matou's own special, special way of "dealing" with the "problem". The two days of silence, followed by marching up to you with her breath held, fists clenched against her dress. It's like she thinks that looking you in the eye is the bravest thing in the world.

Y-You're the Matou heir now, she tells you. You're her responsibility now. And she'll g-guide you, because she knows m-much more about this stuff than you do!

Unfortunately, "fuck off" hasn't yet entered your lexicon.

You realize later that this was Rin Matou being nice. Being comforting. Later still, it occurs to you exactly where she learned to interact like that, and you wonder if she's ever spoken to someone who wasn't a teacher. Or a student she was tutoring. Your instincts lean toward "no".

It never gets easier, by the way. I scream now like I wanted to scream then. Tears and everything. Worms teach you a lot about yourself.

But puberty rolls around eventually.

You get older, and the worms get HUNGRY.

I remember the first girl I had.

This was back when the worms had first started pumping my body with hormones, until I was walking around perpetually red-faced and feeling like I was living in my own personal sauna. Entire body throbbing. Ready to hump anything in a miniskirt. You learn little tricks to conceal the obvious. Shift in your seat a little. Different pants.

But that was also when I discovered -- to my relief -- that I didn't need hypnosis.

Not at all.

Turns out that being perpetually pale and thin from worms eating your insides makes you attractive to a certain type of girl. Especially when you're good looking already.

And smart. And dedicated to your craft.

I kept the first one for a while. Learned what I could. There's an art to it, and I guess it's the only art I've ever been proud of mastering. Matou magecraft isn't an art. It's an old man using you like a sock puppet. (If the metaphor seems weak to you, think about how you get a sock puppet to talk. You'll see what I mean.) Seduction, though? You learn how to smile, how to weave your accomplishments into the conversation in a way that seems natural. You delay gratification. Make her think you're in a hurry. Angle the target along while the worms in your guts wriggle and gurgle to JUST TAKE HER.

But you don't need hypnosis. Just confidence and time. And time's working against her; she'll lose you unless she shows more interest now. You wheedle in some backhanded compliments; ramp the physical contact up juuuust a little. You subtly mirror her body language until she smiles. At that point, you don't need to consciously force yourself to smile back. It comes naturally, because you've won.

There's an exaltation to it. Modulating your voice, manipulating your body like an instrument. Your instrument. Not the fucking worms' instrument. The worms can only give you cravings. You fulfill those cravings on your terms.

Try telling that to Rin, though.

"Yui was crying today," she said.

Even though Rin was sitting in a chair (her legs crossed under a long grey skirt, a prissy little schoolteacher in the making), she managed to look down at me. Her ankle twitched occasionally; that was about all you could see of her black stockings.

That twitch. It was a habit she'd never bothered to break; not after she'd given up her oh-so-important childhood ambition to become the school idol. Not since the competition had moved in. See, Rin didn't have time for the real world anymore; not with all the magecraft she needed to study. To "compete" with me, presumably. Her lack of circuits notwithstanding. The Tragedy of Rin Matou. Three acts.

It was hot, though. Fuyuki-in-the-summer hot, where your clothes stick. The old man wasn't much for air conditioning. Tiny spots of sweat had formed under Rin's armpits. Not so perfect. I wondered whether she was sweating underneath her skirt, too.

Rin flipped a page with the tip of her finger. Still didn't look at me. You could barely see the point where parchment touched skin.

You want to play, "sis"? Well, too bad. I'm not in the mood.

I thumped the books on the table. Loudly.

"Yui?" I said. "What about her?"

Rin raised an eyebrow. It was the kind of precise, pitch-perfect movement that I swear she practiced in front of a mirror.

"Ah," she said. "My mistake. I forgot you need a surname when I bring up your conquests. I'm referring, of course, to Yui Su--"

"I know who you meant," I snapped. "What I'm missing is how it's your business."

She made a big production out of not reacting. Unfortunately, Rin always had trouble concealing her expressions. You pissed her off, and she sneered. You scared her, and her eyes widened. And if you made the mistake of limping up the stairs bow-legged and wincing after a harder worm session than usual (never do this), and the Paragon of All Things Matou would condescend to look concerned for you. Touch your shoulder. Give you meaningful looks. Talk to you in a sort of controlled coo that you'd use for a wounded animal. Not a pet, though; more like a wild animal you're willing to feed, but hope it'll go away and suffer somewhere else.

Right now, she was scowling. Flicked a crumb off the table. Perfect aim. Right into the trash can. This wasn't a coincidence, by the way; Rin always complained when I didn't "clean up after myself". And this was her passive-aggressive way of showing it.

"It's my business," she said, "because you represent the Matou family. If you put as much energy into studying magecraft as you do into humiliating us with your constant sexual escapades--"

(Yes, Rin actually talked like this. Too many books, not enough face to face time. And while we're on the subject, I'd just like to point out how over-the-top hypocritical it was, considering how she drooled over Shirou Emiya. Apparently because he'd tried to jump over a bar, over and over again....and you know what? Jumping into a pit of worms? That's pain right there. I'm not deluded enough to call it heroism, since I have fuck-all choice, but at least it's genuine pain. Trying to clear a bar repeatedly? That's the kind of stupidity you hear from a kid who still wants to be a "hero of justice" when he's fifteen. It actually amused me when he'd first mentioned it -- for all of two seconds. Just long enough for me to realize that I actually wanted to slug the little aspie instead.)

"Hey, how about this, Rin?" I said. "Next time, why not ask your grandfather to throw you into the worm pile next to me."

"That's not fair--" she said.

"Get a real feel for all that magecraft you're missing. Shit, you'll even lose your virginity, which seems pretty overdue if you have the time to complain about my sex life."

She actually flinched at that. Just for a second, though. And then, those tiny nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed.

You could usually tell when Rin was about to say something she'd regret later. You could actually see her body bunching up. Tensing, like she was about to jump over a gorge. She breathed in.

Don't get me wrong. This had been coming to a boil for a while. I'd seduced most of the classmates she'd hung out with over the past year. Now they didn't hang out with her anymore. Rin, in turn, was always making cute little comments, like how she'd never imagined that a male dog could go into heat.

Sometimes it's easier to shoot the messenger than to admit to yourself that you've basically become a reproductive system with a body attached. So after careful deliberation, I'd chosen to shoot the messenger. Rin had a knack for shooting back, though, and I'd forgotten that.

"Maybe you should spend less time blaming me and whining when Tokiomi Tohsaka gave you to our family in the first place," Rin snapped. "Not me! Not grandfather! Tokiomi. So why not try focusing on your lessons for once? You might as well, since it's your own father's bargain that you're failing to live up to."

There are times when your hands curl like they want to strangle somebody, and you see red. And then there are times when this cold, empty feeling flows into the storm. Like you're a scalpel, and know exactly what needs to be cut.

"You want to see magecraft?" I said.

I locked eyes with her, and flooded Prana into a hypnosis Aria.

A bunch of little details came together in that moment -- how Rin had kept surreptitiously wiping her brow in the heat, and the sticky baking sun, and the way she'd pulled at the collar of her red sweater-vest.

Rin was sweating and miserable, and wanted to cool down. So I encouraged her.

"Take off your vest."

She did. The hypnosis worked perfectly.

"And shirt."

She did.

"And bra."

She did. This one was harder; even half-conscious, Rin's resistance to humiliation warred with the physical discomfort of the heat. But I had just barely enough to get through.

Rin's upper body was bare. The view wasn't worth it. Not that I'd expected much.

That's where I stopped.

I just walked away at that point. Left her sitting hypnotized in the kitchen, with her shirt off.

Wriggle. Squelch.

Oh, right. I'd forgotten. Of course the worms would see this as an opportunity for something else. Something beyond a childish humiliation game. Well, fuck them, too.

The hypnosis must have taken about five minutes to wear off, since Rin stomped to my door after six. My "sister" always figured stuff out in a hurry. I opened it, and she hit me in the face.

This wasn't some pissy little slap. She NAILED me. It was one of those kung-fu palm strikes that lights your vision up with white sparks, and makes your mind warble. A spike of pain, and then a dull throbbing sensation for a long time afterward.

I didn't bother Reinforcing myself. Call it guilt or masochism or self-loathing or whatever.

Probably masochism or self-loathing, actually, since:

"Bitch," I muttered.

She hit me on the other cheek. Again, I didn't Reinforce myself. If anything, the second shot hurt more, and I felt my legs turn rubbery. I sank onto the ground. A piece of my back tooth swam around my tongue.

I wiped blood from my mouth, and blinked until my vision assembled a single blurry image of Rin Matou looking down at me with that expressive, expressive face. Lips turned down, hands over mouth, cheeks raised, wrinkled forehead, and all the rest of it. Somewhere between horror and grief.

Like she's just killed a sparrow, I thought.

I flashed my newly broken smile up at her. Rin froze there for awhile. She finally turned on her heel. Turned away, and hurried down the hall with her long grey dress swishing behind her.

Her door slammed. We didn't speak for weeks afterward.

...And that, in a nutshell, was the state of play two years before the Grail War.

Two years is a long time, though. And while I won't say that things necessarily change for the better, sometimes they do change.

[DezoPenguin]

Some problems with the I/you/Shinji bits in the early paragraphs making it less than obvious Shinji is a first-person narrator. Otherwise excellent. Shinji is simultaneously no less dickish and yet more sympathetic than in canon, and the psychological factors will make the sibling relationships very different. One distinct note is that Shinji has considerably more ego and self-interest than Sakura (for example, he goes out and satisfies the worms' sexual urgings on his own, while Sakura had to basically be fed men to drain--though where Shinji might be getting mana from is a different question), allowing him to actively drive the plot instead of being an object of it.

[rajvir]

I have to admit that was extremely interesting, I hope you continue Reshuffle as it looks like it could shape up to be an interesting story, although I doubt you could write an epic Length story on it, as it seems like something that would at the best last 10 chapters or so.

[Twi]

What the two above me said.

[Altima of the Gates]

One distinct note is that Shinji has considerably more ego and self-interest than Sakura (for example, he goes out and satisfies the worms' sexual urgings on his own, while Sakura had to basically be fed men to drain--though where Shinji might be getting mana from is a different question), allowing him to actively drive the plot instead of being an object of it.

There is definitely more of a driven character in a way, but I think people have the worm activation thing a bit backwards I have seen in stories. Namely that they don't become active unless they aren't getting nourishment(and Sakura isn't fed men, she just sucks it up most of the time) or Zouken's punishment.

She had enough capacity that the symptoms don't show up all that often outside of punishment, so depending on how much potential Shinji has, he shouldn't be in the danger zone that often. The whole "needing sex" thing is something purely to satiate the urges caused by the symptoms. Tsk tsk fanon. But anyway, Shinji's personality would probably not be disciplined enough to fight the urges, so this is pretty accurate, though if they are activating, he would have other symptoms, like the suffocation of them moving around his body and other things, not just horniness.

[Grant]

Setting worms aside, bit interesting to see this Rin. Seems to me that in a War she'd be both the most sympathetic and irritating of characters. She seems to be trying to be 'normal' while in canon even Shirou eventually admits that he knew how messed up he was.

[VelspertheCat]

But anyway, Shinji's personality would probably not be disciplined enough to fight the urges, so this is pretty accurate, though if they are activating, he would have other symptoms, like the suffocation of them moving around his body and other things, not just horniness.

Anemia attack, go.

Does that mean Shinji can turn into a ninja like Shiki?

[warellis]

Anemia attack, go.

Does that mean Shinji can turn into a ninja like Shiki?

Wouldn't he also need MEoDP?

[VelspertheCat]

You just need the urge to go postal on other living creatures.

And the will to rape.

Then you too can become Shiki Tohno.

[DezoPenguin]

Well, hey, Shinji's got at least one of those covered already. He's halfway there!

[Zalgo Jenkins]

Well, hey, Shinji's got at least one of those covered already. He's halfway there!

Arguably both, as long as the living creature is small and relatively defenseless.

With that being said, this particular snippet's incarnation of Shinji might find the "willingness to rape" requirement more of a hurdle than his canon counterpart.

[Zalgo Jenkins]

Unapologetically stupid, but what can you do.



Exactly As Advertised

Spoiler:

In the fathomless winding of the Kaleidoscope, there exist many worlds. Some contain depressing deathmatches with lots of angst for people who like that sort of thing. These are as common as they are rarely visited. Others contain magical girl homunculi. These are somewhat more popular among tourists. But most of these worlds share certain underlying themes...Female heroes with out-of-the-ordinary gender identities that are only revealed upon summoning chief among them. Like King Arthur. Or Jack the Ripper. Or even Francis Drake, whose well-documented life was not enough to save him from magical gender reassignment surgery, courtesy of a cursed Chalice.

These universes conflict with their founding legends in other ways, too. Admittedly, the degree of divergence changes from universe to universe. Not all of the Kaleidoscope's Irish spearmen wear armored leotards, for instance. Nor do all Romano-Briton warlords wear (creatively reinterpreted) 15th century plate armor.

But most do.

Most, that is, except for the inhabitants of universe NDS012221-44O9210.

A universe so nitpicky -- so obsessed with the "canon" of its historical sources and folklore -- that it wouldn't know a genderbent catgirl Julius Caesar if she curled up on its lap and purred.

So when the inhabitants of NDS012221-44O9210 decided to host a Grail War, the results were entirely predictable.



----------------------------------------------

The Kotomine Church glowed red. Light seemed to pool near the edges of the black wooden pews, calling to Kirei's mind the image of red eyes on a row of oversized rats. Uncollected programmes from the last few services whipped through the air, their pages fluttering open. Offwhite doves in a hurricane. Lightning cracked.

And at last, a Servant stood before him.

She was short. The girl had a mess of slightly oily black hair, cut so boyishly that it couldn't cover her short neck or the red mark behind her ear. The effect wasn't necessarily unattractive, but she definitely needed a shower and comb. The girl was tanned. Muscular. Her palms rough.

The simulacrum -- assembled through painstaking archival research on the Grail's part -- narrowed its eyes at Kirei.

"I would ask, but I suspect that an introduction is unnecessary," Kirei said. "Isn't that right, Jeanne, Maid of Orl--"

"Unsummon me."

Kirei raised an eyebrow.

"Pardon?" he said.

The girl crossed her arms. Arms that were suddenly covered in battered armor. She looked pointedly at the bloody pentagram and qabbalic markings painted on the floor.

"You heard me," she said. "This is necromancy, and I'll have none of it."

"But--"

"Chop chop. I don't have all day."

"...But I'm a Catholic priest," Kirei said.

Her eyes narrowed still further.

"A priest with a wife and child?"

Kirei's gaze wandered away from the girl's scowl, toward to the brass-bound lectionary and pulpit. He mumbled something about deacons.

"You're not even Catholic, are you?" the girl said.

"I think I am...?" Kirei said, unsure whether to punctuate the reply with a question mark or not. He'd ultimately decided on a slight uptick in his tone, just for safety's sake.

The girl snorted.

"Anglican, probably."

"That's not--wait. You think so?"

"It would explain the Mad Libs belief system."

Kirei thought back to his father's lessons about moon-monsters, vampires, and -- of course -- the theory that King Arthur had been a girl. He looked down at the rosary in his hand for guidance. At this point, Kirei realized with growing unease that he had no idea what a rosary was actually supposed to do.

The girl smirked. Kept glaring at him.

"It occurs to me," Kirei said at last, "that perhaps I should have consulted more conventional spiritual and/or psychiatric guidance before pinning my hopes for mental wellbeing on a magical murder tournament."

"That would have been best, yes."

Kirei sighed, and intoned the banishment Aria.


-------------------------------------------------------


"...So Mr. Demon," Uryuu was saying, "about our plans..."

Gilles de Rais's eyes seemed to pierce through the Servant's mop of dark hair. He was slightly red-faced and well built, but those eyes had been what struck Uryuu from the first. Cold, eerie blue. They looked through you.

"What plans?"

"The murdering-kids-plans," Uryuu said. "It's...well, you'll be able to protect me, right? From the police and everything?"

"Not really, no."

This brought Uryuu up a bit short. He looked at Gilles de Rais (who was totally his favorite serial killer; Ted Bundy was so mainstream) for a good thirty seconds. The gesture washed over Gilles without making an impression; those staring, empty eyes didn't even flicker.

"Whaddya mean 'Not really'?!" Uryuu spat, long after the silence had become uncomfortable.

Muscular shoulders shrugged.

Uryuu felt a sinking sensation slowly grip him.

"About that. I'm just a regular guy," Gilles said. "Well, aside from the serial killing. That black magic book? Con artist gave it to me. Didn't work a lick. I mean, how's that for a ripoff? Man, let me tell you: four hundred dead kids -- that's four with two zeroes after it -- and you'd expect at least one piddly little demon would show up and give you some gold. Right? But do they? No~ooo--"

This...this was too much.

"Gold?!"

It was an anguished cry, deep from the artsy-schmartsy netherworld of Uryuu's soul. A soul that reviled monetary gain as much as it reviled all the other stuff that Squares did in their spare time.

Like its predecessor, this protest made no impression. Gilles stroked his beard.

"Jewelry stores, though," he said. "That might work. I figure if we rob a few, we can finance lots of new chapels with my name plastered all over 'em..."

And then, being Uryuu was suffering.

------------------------------------------

Diarmuid still accidentally seduced Kayneth's wife.

------------------------------------------

"Holy shit! You should see this stuff! These modern hallucinogens are amazing."

For the tenth time in as many minutes, Kiritsugu rolled his eyes. Irisviel straightened the bow on her neck. But her smile had thinned. Become strained.

They tried not to look at the man rolling on the floor.

"And look at all these curvy chicks! I mean, that blonde number? She's got a butt like a peach. Whoah...those plants. What's up with those plants? Flowers everywhere! Milk of paradise? Heck yeah! Gimme some of--mmmh..."

Assassin made gurgling noises.

Irisviel picked at the silk tablecloth. She delicately cleared her throat and, interpreting her husband's complete lack of response as an invitation to continue, did so.

"Er...Kerry?"

Blank stare.

"...How long are they like this?"

Blank stare. But finally:

"Indoctrination takes awhile," Kiritsugu said.

"Awhile?"

"I'm not sure that the legends specified. To be honest, I expected a hashishi who'd already gone through it," Kiritsugu said. "The modern hallucinogens might help a little, but honestly..."

Irisviel wrinkled her nose.

"So we just keep drugging him and reciting religious tracts until he offers to kill somebody?" she said.

"That's about the size of it, yes."

Irisviel's fingers had continued worrying the edges of her velvet top, and she stilled them before the fabric frayed.

"It just seems a little..."

"Cruel?" Kiritsugu said.

"...stupid...Yes, cruel. In fact--Ilya, stop that!"

Her daughter huffed, and then continued painting the convulsing Servant's face with lipstick as if nothing had happened. Assassin's vaguely Kublai Khan inspired monologue proceeded unabated. Something about honey and dulcimers.

"Somebody should really take her back," Irisviel said.

"Ilya, you mean?"

"Mmh. It's just that...Well, our home environment seems a bit less conducive to raising a child after the summoning. Do you think I should...?"

"Yeah, go," Kirisugu sighed. "This'll take a while."

"Should I grab some more drugs on the way back?"

Kiritsugu looked from the convulsing Servant, to his wife, to the spot where Assassin had puked on the carpet after a particularly bad trip.

"Bring enough for two," he grumbled. "Right now, reality's not looking so hot to me either."

Irisviel took a second look at the Servant, realized that she would eventually have to come back to stay, and considered.

Enough for three, then, she decided with a sigh.

-----------------------------------------------------

Happily, Iskander turned out to be completely indistinguishable from his equivalents throughout the Kaleidoscope. Just a little shorter.

As Waver and his new Servant King rode forth into battle, Waver reflected that Plutarch had been completely full of it -- and that the resulting state of affairs was awesome.

-----------------------------------------------------

"HGHGHGHRHGHGRHGHRHGHRHGHRH!" said Berserker.

Kariya seemed to raise an eyebrow, although this might have just been a worm crawling under the pale, desiccated, rotting sheet of flesh that had once been his skin.

Either way, he voiced his concerns.

"That...didn't sound like Lancelot," Kariya said.

Zouken's clack-shuffle-clack rhythm as he slithered up the steps came to a halt. He rolled his eyes: black spheres with white dots that looked like beady little eight-balls of evil.

"Mad Enhancement," Zouken said.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh..."

--------------------------------------

Rin Tohsaka grinned. It was a manic, elementary school grin, stretching from pigtail to pigtail. The sort of grin that most of the Kaleidoscope's Rins -- dour, miserable lot that they were -- would rarely break out.

"Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Five perfections for each repetition. And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!"

The room had darkened, and Rin felt the first trace of wind through her stockings. Breezes danced between the parchment of old books. The Summoning Circle crackled, and then began throbbing with light.

IT. WAS. WORKING.

The breeze became a gale. Rin felt Prana thrum through her. Pigtails flailed. And the compass -- the compass that her father had given her to warn about high-level magic -- spun like a propeller.

"You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance --！"

Light exploded from everywhere at once. When it had finally cleared, a knight stood before her.

Her Servant.

Radiant. Pure. Clothed in glittering armor and samite. He smiled -- a beatific, wonderful smile -- and spoke.

"I ask of you, are--"

"OH HECK YEAH!"

Everything seemed to pause for a moment.

"...Um, that is to say, yes. Yes. I am. Your Master, that is. Rin. Your Master Rin. That's my name."

Another Rin -- one of those grim, duty-driven Rins from the depressing universes -- might have felt the urge to strangle herself after this mangled introduction. Happily, though, this particular Rin was too busy skipping along her Summoning Circle's arabesque curves, tesselations, and Hebrew letters, as if playing a demonic game of hopscotch.

She'd done it.

No, scratch that.

She'd done something her father had failed to do. Something, in fact, that her father had failed hilariously at, thanks to his exaggerated faith in a Sumerian "artifact" allegedly looted from the National Museum of Iraq. Shoulda checked the provenance better, Dad.

ANDNOWSHEHADASERVANTANDSHE'DWINTHEWAR!

Breath.

She noticed the Servant staring at her, and straightened her lace collar.

"Just to be clear here," Rin said. "You'd better be--"

"Sir Galahad, my lady."

Yesssssss.

This time, Rin resisted the urge to hop up and down, settling instead for a regal nod. She almost vibrated with the effort, though.

"And your Noble Phantasm?" she said.

"Exactly as you would expect," said Galahad. "Shall I activate it, my lady?"

"Yahahaha--ahem, yes. Do that."

Galahad reached up, spreading his fingers like a flower opening its petals. A pale light bloomed in his palm.

"Activating Noble Phantasm: Holy Grail..."

[YeOfLittleFaith]

Well. That was amusing. x3

[Tiresias]

Loved the Jeanne part. However...

U
A universe so nitpicky -- so obsessed with the "canon" of its historical sources

I expected a hashishi who'd already gone through it," Kiritsugu said. "The modern hallucinogens might help a little, but honestly..."

hisssssssss

[Zalgo Jenkins]

Loved the Jeanne part. However...





hisssssssss

Yeah, yeah. I took some liberties too. However, note:

"...historical sources and folklore..."

The Old Man of the Mountain, as reported by some overenthusiastic 18th/19th c. Europeans, supposedly had the fake garden of earthly delights to entice followers. Kerry, being a modernist, tried to improve on the model.