Trinity Angles (Discussion Thread)

[Kieran]

Since apparently the SAO incident was taken care of in maybe a week to upwards of a month ( assuming at least 30 rescues a day)

A week, maybe two - this one had the Seven, Ilya, Rin, the Einzberns and the Aozakis (Sirius, Aoko and Touko included) working at it.

I would say it's less Sugou and Kayaba... than it is Shigemura
Looks like someone's watched Ordinal Scale.

In point of fact, I haven't - so I suppose I would have to.

The issue with SAO is that unless you let the incident actually run it's full course, the primary aincrad and ALO arc is totally useless.

Hence why it's a "Crossover That Should Never Be."

Plus, I would think that even with the whole " I believe that a different power can overcome the system".. basic parameters like spells would have to be input as code first into the game to be even useable.

That's what Shirou would be finding out.

[hatori]

A week, maybe two - this one had the Seven, Ilya, Rin, the Einzberns and the Aozakis (Sirius, Aoko and Touko included) working at it.

Which reinforces the following point that the Aincrad and ALO arc is totally down the drain,

Admittedly, it's not totally a wash, but the entire cast ( I'm including Scarlet Seven, and the supporting mains) would have to be basically entering SAO almost entirely clueless, whilst following the basic premise of the entire 5-6 story arcs ( including the side stories, game variations and the movie) Before actually delving into anything new.

I for one am interested in how they ( the trinity, since the entire cast would be too much, unless you're getting them to make their own guild.) would translate into the SAO characters though, as themselves or as analogue replacements.

[Kieran]

Which reinforces the following point that the Aincrad and ALO arc is totally down the drain,

Which was the point; I regard them as "Crossovers that Should Never Be" because while the idea sounds good, either A), the Trinity crew would solve the problems in ten minutes flat (or equivalent), or B), it would completely destroy them.

. . . Which, granted, I have difficulty seeing short of putting them in an Anti-Apparition/Portkey zone against Godzilla, but I'm sure I could come up with more if I really tried.

(Well, actually, there is that snippet idea for seeking a cure for Hermione . . . But that's for next week, if I need it.)

Admittedly, it's not totally a wash, but the entire cast ( I'm including Scarlet Seven, and the supporting mains) would have to be basically entering SAO almost entirely clueless, whilst following the basic premise of the entire 5-6 story arcs ( including the side stories, game variations and the movie) Before actually delving into anything new.

I for one am interested in how they ( the trinity, since the entire cast would be too much, unless you're getting them to make their own guild.) would translate into the SAO characters though, as themselves or as analogue replacements.

Yeah - that's why I started with ALO. While the story premise would need adjusting, I think it actually could (potentially) work. Alternatively, I suppose, there's GGO - which is about as far as I've gotten in the arcs . . .

. . . But that would eventually devolve into everyone trying to figure out how Shirou and Galen manage to hit every target, every time, regardless of range or stats - especially when the system doesn't allow for ricochets.

[hatori]

I think Daneel Rush did it best in terms of OP characters meets SAO crossover ( although it's nonlethal magic). Even though it was just snippets, the way he wrote it could easily fit into the existing storyline and plot.
Links here and here

[Kieran]

Writer's Notes: Turns out, I did need that idea . . . Enjoy!








October 30, 1998




Tomorrow would mark two years since Hermione had been cursed. The next year would mark three, one of the prime—and most powerful—magical numbers, and still the taint of vampirism clung to her.

It was far weaker than it could have been, true; meeting the Prince had proven that much. His reactions to the usual vampire weaknesses had been far more severe than hers, if less than any other vampire’s. Not even the weight of centuries could bestow that much immunity; it was proof that the curse of the unicorn’s blood did take willfulness into account, at least marginally; as with all magic, intent mattered. Hermione had not knowingly become as she was, so she didn’t suffer the full malice of the ancient magic’s wrath.

No, she was, without question, the most human vampire in existence . . . But she was still a vampire—the living damned if not the living dead—and there was no way of knowing at what point her transformation would truly become irreversible. Would it come in her third year, seventh year, or thirteenth year? Or after she’d outlived her mortal lifetime? Perhaps even after her first century?

Or was it already too late . . .?

Galen refused to think like that. Not because he was especially hopeful, necessarily; he was a great deal more positive in outlook than he had been, but Shirou Emiya, he was not.

No, he refused to give up on finding a cure for Hermione because there was the small part of him that found her condition attractive, and liked his present relationship arrangements—and he refused to indulge in his own selfish pleasures such that she, and to an extent Takara, would pay the price for it. If Hermione gave up on finding a cure, or there truly was none to be found, that was one thing. But to give up simply because he liked things as they were too much for them to change . . . ?

No.

And so, Galen researched—at least, as best he could. The unicorn’s blood curse was old magic, much as was the protection that Lily Potter had, in one universe, bestowed upon her only child. As such, there wasn’t a great deal written about it; at least, not a great deal that had survived the passage of millennia. The Department of Mysteries had possession of most of it, but he couldn’t do much looking in there; he lacked the authority, for one, and it would risk revealing Hermione’s nature for another. It was classified, after all, but not under a Fidelius Charm.

Still, Galen hadn’t been entirely deprived of access to their archives: he had spent two consecutive summers interning in the Department of Mysteries (of two different countries, no less!), and the Lovegoods were a treasure trove of obscure knowledge. The Quibbler might be too fanciful to call it a true newspaper, by mundane standards, but the scraps of lore they’d collected on a variety of subjects was truly astonishing . . . And it didn’t hurt that Luna was no less motivated than he was to help Hermione.

All of which had led them here, to a boat in the midst of Cornwall—to be more specific, midway between Land’s End and the Isles of Scilly.

It was Galen’s reasoning that to learn about old magic, you had to seek ancient sources, and in Britain, that usually meant Merlin and Arthurian legend. The original Merlin, mind you—the one who had existed five centuries before Hogwarts was built, rather than the Slytherin who’d attended a thousand years later.

. . . OK, that was stretching things a bit—he knew very well that “Merlin” was a composite of at least two historical figures rather than an actual person, but still, the Rowling version wasn’t even close to being possible within the timeframe of either of them, so he presumed that the Merlin of Hogwarts was a coincidence, descendant, or pretender. Otherwise, he’d have to decide whether Nasu or Rowling had a worse habit of screwing with Arthurian canon . . .

In any case, the “drowned land” of Lyonesse (at least, the Cornish version) allegedly resided somewhere in this general area. And since Sir Tristan was an Arthurian knight in most accepted versions of the legends, that left the real possibility that the sunken island not only existed, but had magical elements that still might be concealed. And more importantly, those elements would be accessible to someone capable of intelligently combining magic and modern technology, unlike most wizards.

To call it “a long shot” was criminally understating things, of course, and there were absolutely at least half-a-dozen ways in which things could go horribly wrong . . . But on the other hand, his prior record with this sort of thing spoke for itself.

Donning the diving suit and scuba gear, suitably augmented by enchantments, he dove into the water, with Luna not far behind . . .








Pain.

Galen was no stranger to it, and generally capable of coping with it, but to go straight from “blacked-out unconscious” to “burning white agony” was never his favourite method of waking up. It was, in fact, one of those methods that made him question if the alternative—to wit, not waking up at all—was really so bad . . .?

On finding himself in what looked like a really rundown clinic, that question had a bit more emphasis than usual.

A weight in his right arm led to I.V. stand—it looked like he’d been dosed with something, and it had been done the mundane way. That was odd, because the style of this place suggested the magical side—Victorian architecture, low lighting, and nary a computer or electrical socket in sight. Either somebody had turned a heritage house into an after-hours clinic, or something was really off here.

Galen closed his eyes, and delved into his Occlumency to find out what he could recall about how he’d wound up here. His talents had always tended more towards the “get out of my head” aspect of the discipline than the organisational side, but he could do it, even if the sheer volume of memories locked in his biologically twenty-year-old brain took meant he took more time to sift through things than most.

(. . . And of course, that sardonic corner of his mind pointed out, the drugs aren’t likely to help, either.)

He remembered water, an aura of power—lingering enchantments, which was more than a little frightening, considering they’d arguably been active for around fourteen centuries or so. Still, it meant that they were on the right track, so they’d swept on . . .

The rest of the memories were—jagged, like something had twisted them around until they’d shattered. Galen had never encountered that before. He heard a hollow, droning sound that he couldn’t identify, because sound carried differently through water. There was an impression of movement in the darkness, a slithering that brought tentacles to mind . . .

He’d barely had time to push Luna out of the way before the strike of whatever it was had a chance to land. He couldn’t risk Apparition, it was too dark to see anywhere close, too fast to concentrate on anywhere more familiar—the tentacle had bent in a way that it shouldn’t have been able to, snatched him and drawn him close, and the Blasting Curse hadn’t even made it flinch . . .

The rest of the thread was even more disjointed: darkness, and things moving at the edge of his vision that didn’t look right—and a voice . . .

Given that I went from where I was to here, there’s something magical or cosmic involved in this, Galen reasoned. A quick check revealed no sign of Luna, for better or worse—and that he still had all his gear, which included the bracer/sheath that typically held his wand, and his gun.

“So,” he whispered, “I’m in a strange place, alone, and dosed with who knows what—but they didn’t find my weapons, and there’s nothing that says I can’t find what I’m looking for, here.”

He shrugged. “I’ve worked with worse . . .”

[Xamusel]

Which crossover is it this time, Kieran? Is it a crossover, at that?

[Kieran]

It is, though this one isn't finagled quite as nicely as some others . . . Still, I thought that, given their shared affinities (or elements and themes, at least), Bloodborne was somewhat appropriate.

[fsnfan]

Kieran, you're really sadistic if you sent Galen into that world.

[Kieran]

Yes, yes I am - I've seen the giant ticks (ugh), giant spiders (*Shudder*), and the balls of freaking snakes . . .

Galen would probably handle it better than I would, Master Occlumens and all, but if you ever wanted to see him react with visceral "KILL IT WITH FIRE-FIRE-FIRE" terror, this would be the place . . .

. . . Still, I thought the elements in common (blood, the moon, dreams) were too much not to give this a shot - and I rather like the Doll (which I'm sure is no surprise).

[fsnfan]

In that case:

Dark Souls -> Shirou - Fire
Demon's Souls -> Takara - Demons

[Kieran]

I did consider those, but Bloodborne was the easiest to work with (at least, initially), given the Paleblood's reputation for "cures."

[Kieran]

Twelve hours earlier




Rin was aware of the incoming drone almost as quickly as Galen; her Animagus form didn’t prioritise hearing as a primary sense like his did, but she had other enhancements that detected it all the same. It just took her longer to identify what it was—and she figured out what its approach meant before he did.

With swift, practiced movements, she withdrew a small gem from a hidden pouch on her sleeve, tapped it with the tip of her wand and shouted “Refractio” before hurling it ahead. At the same time, Galen moved up next to her, wrapping her in the duster he was suddenly wearing even as he stabbed with his wand and shouted, “AEGIS!”

Rin caught a brief glimpse of silvery light before her vision was subsumed by the covering shroud of his duster, and her face pressed hard into his chest. At any other time, she’d have been annoyed—but the shockwaves of the missile’s detonation brought with it a howling gale, and she could hear a near-electric sizzling as grains of sand hurled themselves against the outer shell of their makeshift dragonhide cocoon.

She herself felt very little of it, as Galen took the brunt of the force—which was his intent in wrapping her up as he had, of course. It made sense, Rin admitted to herself. He was a good eight inches taller than she was, more than twice her mass, and she was well aware of how much punishment he could take; she really couldn’t have asked for a better “meat-shield.”

Especially since Rin could feel the furrows being dug in the sand as Galen struggled to hold them upright and on the ground—if the shockwave had held out a couple of seconds longer, they’d have been blown off their feet. As it was, they got pushed a good three and a half metres, and Galen dropped to his knees when the resistance abated.

. . . On the other hand, they were alive and in one piece. Given that the missile had been one of the larger explosions that either of them had ever been in close proximity to, it was a pretty fair trade.

“. . . Thanks,” Galen breathed. “What was that gem? It was bloody impressive.”

Rin smirked. “Jewel Magecraft might not function in this world unless you’re the Wizard Marshall, but that doesn’t mean I can’t apply some of its concepts and aspects to the magic that does—particularly when I can combine them with the local spatial manipulation magic.”

His eyebrows rose after a moment. “. . . Expand each facet as a separate space and direct the force along it? That would diffuse it a few dozen or hundred times, depending on the size of it.” At her scowl, he pointed out with a grin, “I live with two very smart and creative women—who are going to want to grill you about the mechanics of that—even if it’s not my forte . . . And we’re losing time.”

Rin glanced in the direction of the fading, but still visible “cloud” of sand. The rooftops of the surrounding buildings were visible from here, but—

“I don’t doubt that you could Apparate that far,” she said, “but it’ll make too much noise; and making a gunshot-like sound around military types is a bad idea—I didn’t pack a broomstick, did you?”

“We’ll need to be Disillusioned,” Galen said, with a resigned sigh, “but I can get us up there.” He gave her a grim look. “And you’re probably not going to like it . . .”








Galen really didn’t like travelling by Fumation.

Oh, it had its benefits: it was quieter than Apparition, less disorienting than a Portkey, and modern racing brooms were only beginning to catch up to the speeds that a sufficiently powerful witch or wizard could manage with the technique—to say nothing of them, specifically. Moreover, when done by somebody really skilled at it, one could either remain quasi-tangible, so as to cast spells or grab objects while using it, or dissolve completely into smoke, which had its own uses at times.

None of that, however, made up for the fact that it took ridiculous amounts of power (which he had in spades, admittedly), and a certain level of regular concentration, since using Fumation was essentially using self-Transfiguration constantly, generating a jet stream behind yourself, and adjusting for the winds, since your mass was near-zero. And if you did want to cast spells, it got even more complicated . . . Not to mention that it tended to leave you reeking of smoke, afterwards.

It was no wonder that only Voldemort’s best and brightest (figuratively speaking) had mastered the technique. If Galen hadn’t been an Occlumens, and somewhat used to thinking in two or three directions at once, thanks to his Animagus form and his own mental nature, it would’ve been impossible—and he wasn’t all that crazy about heights or speed, still.

. . . So, naturally, the first words out of Rin’s mouth upon landing were an intensely-whispered “Teach me that technique.”

“Later,” he hissed back.

Disillusioned as they were, the two of them weren’t much more than heat shimmers—if that—on the rooftop, and from that vantage point, Galen could see where her former late-night-stand, and a companion from the presence of the second rappelling line, had descended into the pit that the missile strike had opened up; a pit which, among other things, exposed a giant carved face with a very Egyptian-looking headdress for the middle of Iraq. More than that, the feeling that emanated from that hole . . .

“To quote Albus Dumbledore,” he murmured, “‘this place has known magic.’”

“No kidding,” Rin said flatly. “What else could’ve raised a structure like this, this far from Egypt? They’d have had to slaughter half the country to keep its location secret, working through mundane methods—and it would’ve taken so many years, there’d have been no hope of containing whatever it was built for until it was finished.” She shook her head. “It had to be magic, or else it could’ve never disappeared from history the way it has.”

“So it’s definitely here, and magical—and since those two have enough military connections to call in an airstrike, we have to assume that a follow-up unit is already on its way,” Galen thought out loud. “So, Plan A is to sneak down there, Stun them, Obliviate them, seal up the hole, and throw up enough Repelling Charms to keep away the mundane people until we figure out whether to call in Jekyll or Fidelius Charm the place?”

“That sounds reasonable,” Rin agreed. “And Plan B?” Because they always needed a Plan B—too many things had gone horribly wrong in both their lives not to have a Plan B.

“Are you armed, besides your wand?”

“I’ve still got my knife,” Rin answered. “It won’t do much good against soldiers, admittedly—but I’m sure you’ve still got that hand cannon of yours.” She smirked before adding, “Just remember, human soldiers’ bodies aren’t as dense or thick as troll bodies; try not to bring the roof down on us, this time.”

He scowled. “We’ve retooled it to fix that problem—and for the last time, how was I to know that was a load-bearing wall . . .?”








She had burned in the dark for so long, now. Her body was trapped, her strength all but gone, but her mind was still free . . .

She felt them come, though she could not see them; not so long as her powers were still bound. All that she knew was that her prison had been invaded, and that meant that she might yet be freed from it—

Had she the need to breathe or the strength to do so, she would have gasped; for suddenly, she felt the presence of more intruders—and far more powerful intruders, at that.

The others were barely flickers of awareness in her current state, and she might have dismissed them as some dream born of fruitless hopes and incipient madness. But these . . . These were not flickers, they were torches, infernos. She could no more fail to be aware of their presence than she could have dismissed the fiercest of sandstorms. Great was her power, as had been promised; she was a living goddess, as she had been raised to be—and these were as near her equal as any she had knowledge of.

She hoped that one of them was suitable—if she managed to be freed, after all, her bargain would need to be completed; the great Set required a host. Surely, he would not complain to be given one with such strength of its own?

And to bind such a one to her will, as her consort . . .

Had she possessed the ability, she would have shivered within her prison. And what little resources she did possess, she marshalled carefully. If the opportunity to be free of this hell arose, she intended to seize it.

And not even the gods would save any who stood in her way.

[Green Waters]

First time posting here, (been lurking for a while), I wasn’t aware Rin had an Animagus form in this fic. What is it?

[Kieran]

First time posting here, (been lurking for a while),

Nice to hear from you - welcome aboard!

I wasn’t aware Rin had an Animagus form in this fic. What is it?

That would be a surprise - something she's picked up in the intervening (almost) twenty years . . .

. . . In more practical terms, if you have a suggestion, I'm all ears.

[Green Waters]

Nice to hear from you - welcome aboard!

That would be a surprise - something she's picked up in the intervening (almost) twenty years . . .

Thanks for answering my question. To be honest, I dropped the main version of this fic- the bashing really turned me off- but I do think you’re a good writer so I decided to give this a try and when I saw the Animagus thing, I was a bit curious.

[Kieran]

Hogwarts Castle, Scotland
May 2, 1998








Nobody saw it coming, although they should have.

They had already collected most of the obvious facts involved, after all: Voldemort was fully capable of concocting and executing convoluted plans with backups and fail-safes, often taking years to reach fruition. He was also a vindictive son of a bitch, perfectly willing to destroy what he couldn’t possess; and he’d broken into the Ministry years before—to hear a prophecy, they’d thought at the time, and he’d certainly tried, but he’d also laid a Portkey enchantment as a later trap, allowing him to kidnap Neville’s grandmother long afterwards.

. . . Really, it should’ve come as no surprise that, on his way through the Department of Mysteries, he might’ve made another stop. But it hadn’t occurred to any of them, either at the time or years later—and so Voldemort’s dying curse, a final strike at his enemies, went unnoticed, until it was too late.

With the death of the Dark Lord, the Department of Mysteries ended its lockdown, returning once more to “normal” reality; and the enchantment, sensing the link to its master’s life having been severed, did as it was meant to do—and blew the veiled arch in the Room of Death to pieces.

And it took the world—or at least, a very significant part of that world—with it.








A space between spaces, a moment between ticks of the clock








“Y’know,” drawled a distinctly American voice, “if I’d known that all it took to get the Powers off their asses was to tear a bunch of new holes in them, I’d probably still be able to feed and bathe myself.”

As people’s vision generally cleared, they beheld a brown-eyed woman whose short blonde hair had dark roots, with tanned skin that generally only came from lifelong sun exposure or a really good salon.

“Then again,” the woman mused, “I suppose it matters who’s talking—I certainly bitched about them enough when they dropping visions into my head like a ton of bricks, and didn’t get much of anything for it.”

Neville, Luna and Ginny gave her odd looks—before their Occlumency-boosted recall reminded them exactly where they’d seen her (younger self) before, and then they just looked bewildered . . . All right, Luna looked more curious than bewildered, but they were definitely unsure of what they’re dealing with, and almost as one, turned to the older four to figure out what cue they ought to be taking in this situation.

. . . No, older five—Ilyasviel was there, as well; and glowing from an inner light, much like the blonde was. It was she who responded, and in an uncharacteristically cautious tone that set the younger witches and wizards on edge.

“Hello, Cordelia—I thought we had fixed that Illyria mess . . .?”

“Oh, you did,” she assured them brightly. “And you were pretty on-track to doing well with this world, too . . . Until it blew up, anyway.” She shook her head. “What is it with bad guys and trying to send the world to Hell . . .?

“Anyways,” she continued, “that meant that there’s enough of an imbalance going on that the Powers had to step in—and since they owed me at least one, I talked them into doing this little nudge in response.” She smirked. “After all, why should the bad guys be the only ones who get to mess with time and reset the world?”








Outskirts of Sunnydale, California
May 2, 1998








Takara fought a particular sense of déjà vu.

It had been seven years, give or take, since the time she’d briefly been a Slayer—more than that, if you allowed for the fact that she’d absorbed an entire decade prior to actually living those seven years . . . But at this moment, it felt like seven seconds; the strength, the reflexes, the instincts—all of it came back to her instantly, as easily and naturally as breathing.

Which, she supposed, was a good thing, seeing as she’d been dropped into hell . . . Well, the Hellmouth, technically, but it amounted to the same thing.

They were, as she understood it, being adjusted to this universe this time; which meant “the end of Season 2,” according to Galen, Ilya and Hermione. Seeing as she’d just barely had a chance to watch the first season before this kicked off—the benefits of its being a worldwide hit, and travelling across Europe for several months—that was not encouraging. Still, she had enough of the gist of things, she thought, to figure out where her friends were liable to end up.

Ginny, Luna and Neville: freelance witches, or possibly Watcher-related, seeing as they came from family lines. Likely Shirou, as well; Ilya, she wasn’t sure of, since she had non-human ancestry—but she thought that “Oden Tal” species that Hisui had been the last time was a decent bet.

And of course, she thought with a sigh, Hermione is going to be the resident “vampire with a soul”—poor ‘Mione . . .

As Cordelia had explained it to them, part of the reason they were being inserted when they were in the timeline (aside from the matching dates) was that in this specific iteration, Angel and Buffy had managed to slay each other during the battle to stop the world from going to Hell. As a result, this particular world’s future would be even darker—to say nothing of shorter—than the “canon” timeline.

. . . What she hadn’t been clear on was whether or not the canon characters would exist, or if, as before, they’d end up overwriting them. For example, Takara was a Slayer, and to take Buffy’s general role—but was she replacing Faith, or had Buffy’s second death issued another call down the Slayer line?

And for that matter, she wondered warily, what exactly have they done to Galen this time?








“. . . I somehow get the impression the Powers are a little ticked off at me,” Galen drawled.

Hermione’s voice was equally dry as she responded, “Well, having seen that rant, I can’t imagine why that would be.”

“First, they’re supposed to literally be above that sort of thing. And second, was I wrong?”

“. . . No comment.”

He sighed. “Depending on how this is all set up, this ‘not being able to lie’ thing is going to be troublesome.”

“At least you’re not bound to a location, like the Deeper Well,” she remarked.

“She says, as we’re preparing to live on the Hellmouth for the foreseeable future,” he muttered.

Hermione huffed, but didn’t dispute the point.

“. . . I just know that something is going to bite us on the ass,” Galen sighed. “Just because we’re not actually teenagers—mostly—doesn’t change the fact that this universe runs on angst.”

“So all we can do,” Hermione said reasonably, “is to prepare as best we can.” She grinned. “And on that note—one Gem of Amarra, check!”

Thanks for answering my question. To be honest, I dropped the main version of this fic- the bashing really turned me off- but I do think you’re a good writer so I decided to give this a try and when I saw the Animagus thing, I was a bit curious.

Thanks - I appreciate your honesty, and your faith in my skills. I hope that other snippets in this thread are equally rewarding for you (or moreso).

[MWkillkenny84]

Uh... intesting choice. When we will see the option "coming back full circle" and have the Seven deposited 'back' in the Nasuverse proper?

[Kieran]

Uh... intesting choice.

*Shrugs* I was feeling nostalgic, and it is almost Hallowe'en . . .

When we will see the option "coming back full circle" and have the Seven deposited 'back' in the Nasuverse proper?

Well technically, we already have.

[MWkillkenny84]

*Shrugs* I was feeling nostalgic, and it is almost Hallowe'en . . .

Ah yes, the YAHF section of the BtVS fame, how much delicious crossover potential wasted in Xander-centric powertrips...

Well technically, we already have.

I was not referring to the MoonCell, but something like Fuyuki City (regular and/or Prisma Illya/Cardinal Phantasm, were Illya despair because she's returned to be a loli) or Grand Order in Chaldea, where Illya will glare dagger at both Lancer!Arturia... of course, with Chaldea there is also the risk that Shirou will have to share soulspace with Sengo Muramasa...

[Kieran]

Ah yes, the YAHF section of the BtVS fame, how much delicious crossover potential wasted in Xander-centric powertrips...

I can't argue that . . .

I was not referring to the MoonCell, but something like Fuyuki City (regular and/or Prisma Illya/Cardinal Phantasm, were Illya despair because she's returned to be a loli) or Grand Order in Chaldea, where Illya will glare dagger at both Lancer!Arturia... of course, with Chaldea there is also the risk that Shirou will have to share soulspace with Sengo Muramasa...

I actually did (briefly) consider Prisma Ilya, but I'm unsure of how to properly pull it off. Grand Order would probably be easier, - if no less complicated to deal with.

. . . Still, maybe next week, if the new chapter's still not finished . . . Either that, or I finally wake up Princess Ahmanet.