dont we already know issei's secret
unless you mean along the lines of actually being tsundere on rin...
dont we already know issei's secret
unless you mean along the lines of actually being tsundere on rin...
I dunno about you guys but THIS
Looks like it's gonna be great just from the title.6. Berserking with Berserker
Tale #3: Arching with Archer
~0~
GRRRR. THIS CITY…JUST SHOWED YOU…THAT IT’S (wait, let me breathe for a bit…OK, go) FULL OF…(holy crap this is hard) PEOPLE!(huff)(huff)…(huff)READY TO BELIEVE… … … IN GOOD!!
Kotomine smirked, still dangling off the precipice, “Until their spirits break comple-hey, wait, what? Dangling off a precipice? Where? A building? A cliff? Fuyuki’s got mountains, right?”
Archer looked uncomfortable as he shrugged, a hard feat considering he was dangling the infamous Kotomine off a building 30 stories in the air, “Oh yeah, well, guess that answers that.”
“Welp, yep, guess it does. But wait, why are we even here?”
“Wait, was that you?” Archer raised a sexy eyebrow, “oh no, wait, nevermind, that answers tha-HEY NO IT DOESN’T. The narrative only said ‘Archer raised an eyebrow’. Nothing about “Kotomine said this” or “Archer said that”. Come on, man.”
Archer needs to shut the hell up. Or wait, was that Kotomine?
“You don’t even know.”
Shut up. I’m writing this story. No, actually, not anymore. Scene shift, you’re in your private detective office, sitting at your desk that is actually a naked Medusa.
“Where were we before?” Archer asked.
You were nowhere before. That previous doesn’t exist anymore. Kotomine is probably at his church, doing horrible things for the laugh out louds.
“Probably?” Archer cocked his tan, glistening gorgeous, white haired, luxurious hea-“hey, stop that. It’s distracting.”
Fine. And yeah, probably. I don’t know, definitely? I’m the one writing this story, you should be happy with a naked woman as your desk.
“Yeah, see, how does that even work?” Medusa asked. OH WAIT, NO SHE CAN’T, BECAUSE SHE HAS A BALL GAG IN HER MOUTH, AND SHE’S ON ALL FOURS, WITH A BUNCH OF PAPERS AND SHIT ON HER BACK.
“Mmmmpppphhhhmhpmhmmmmph,” Medusa couldn’t talk. Silly Medusa.
“You’re making shit up as you go along,” Archer pointed an accusing finger at nothing in particular.
Hush. You’re a private detective set up in Fuyuki’s Business District that handles all sorts of bizarre cases. You’re known as a fast firing, quick witted ladies’ man jerk with a heart of brass diamonds. Which is better than gold, so you must be super nice underneath your rough exterior that has been built up over a life time of failures. Which is why you were kicked out of the police force.
“For being a ladies man?” Archer asked.
No, for being a jerk. You, uh, didn’t get along with the police force boss. Also you may have been under allegations that you were boning his wife. That tends to upset people.
“Wait, no, I don’t believe I’m any of those things,” Archer closed his eyes and tried to think, “I’m a magical servant summoned by a wish granting machine, right?”
Oh. Yeah, shit. OK, you won the War. Now you’re a private eye, trying to do your bit of good before fading away.
“Wish granting machine. If I won the War, couldn’t I just wish the problems away?”
The wish granting machine was corrupted by a previous magical servant.
“But then if it was evil, why was someone good like me summoned?” Archer suddenly feels he should shut his damn face.
OH HEY LOOK THERE’S A CLIENT AT THE DOOR. There is a knock.
“Come on,” Archer called out in a ringing, resonate, echoing voice, “you realize those are all synonyms, or close enough, ri-“
A BLONDE WOMAN WALKS THROUGH THE DOOR. Her hair shines like the sun after rainfall, her face the stuff stars are made of.
“Stars are made of skin tissue?” Archer asked, because Archer is a bag of dicks who has no appreciation for complimenting a perfect woman.
Her piercing turquoise eyes looked like they could stare right into your soul, yet there was a hint of compassion in them that made you think that she would still see past any corruption she may find to the true you. She wore a dress of stainless white, perhaps symbolic of both her unwillingness to waver in her course and her purity in the face of darkness. Or maybe it was that she was a beacon in an endless sea of evil turmoil? Her delicate hands smoothed over her dress, and she looked mildly flustered.
“Maybe that’s because the narration has been basically ogling me,” she snapped. You know what, fine, be that way.
She wore a business suit, fancy but not too fancy, because after all, she was only coming to visit a private detective.
“Before you were singing my praises, now you’re demeaning me?” Archer, no, LITTLE WHINY BITCH, said in that stupid prissy voice of his.
“My name is Saber. I’m a secret agent in Her Majesty Arturia Pendragon’s Secret Service. We need your help and is that really a naked woman you’re using as your desk?” Saber raised an eyebrow at the wonderfully naked Medusa.
Medusa felt her cheeks, both rear and front heat up at her words, and to her shame felt her loins grow wet with longing for this utterly gorgeous woman. It should be a crime for anyone to look so delicious in a suit.
“OK, sick, liquid’s dripping onto my boots,” Archer complained, because he’s a stuck up jerk who cannot handle this much sexual thrill in the air. It’s like, there’s sex everywhere, just fucking everywhere, but you’re the ONE prude who always sits in the corner of the club while everybody is grinding up onto everybody else out on the dance floor, and you keep complaining about the strobe lights, and how your drink isn’t cold, even though you are drinking a drink that is clearly not meant to be a cold beverage, but you don’t know that, so you order some ice, and the bartender gives you a look and you just know you did something wrong but you’re a dick who can’t admit it so you just take your now TOTALLY ruined glass back to your shitty little corner and cry into it. Because you suck.
“The detective just blew his brains out,” Saber deadpanned.
…
Fuck.
Hope Rides With His Godly Ronin/Cowboy Brother In Law
Can I get that desk?
Then let it break, if it shatters to pieces then forge an even better blade to take in hand. Should that blade crack then forge once again, untill the battlefield is a graveyard of blades that have fallen and but a single sword claims the field that embodies the world. Let that sword bear the world untill its time comes and time blows its dust to the winds. Then forge again.---Eric Dagger
I can't stop laughing. Damn it, that was pure genius.
For some reason I get the image that "Casting with Caster" has something to do with fishing.
Not sure why.
Originally Posted by Moczo
Al wants a desk like that...though I get the feeling that I won't get much work done.
Oh, lol, what? That was just....
Horray for total randomness.
And, Al, I second your request. I want a desk like that too....
Eh, I didn't like it.
The incipit and basic idea were good though, but the actualization... not so much.
Oh well, it may happen. Let's see the next ones.
No, I'm not making this up, this literally is all of Casting with Caster. I typed this up as filler till Word got to the next page.
Tale #4: Casting with Caster
~0~
“If you don’t mind, Caster,” Kuzuki said while preparing to go out the door to Homurabakuen Gaga. Or something like that, “I would like some fish when I git home. Go fetch me fish woman.”
“HAI GOMENASAI SOUCHIROU SEMPAI SAMA KUN,” Caster said calmly. But she was srcetly excite.
2 days ago, he had gone to market to by fish. But they’re was a mean ladie who slapped her with a fish because caster was wearing her robe and she looked dumb. Caster did not want to lok dumb, but she had no other clothes. Except when Kuzki took them off, but then she was nak3d some tht doesn’t count. What Caster needed was some cloths, and she new had to find them.
Emiya Shirou-chan was wondering a log the pier when he siddenyl saw Caster running toward him. His command seals were gone so he couldn’t call Sabr, but Caster was lny a woman so he could handle it. But to shis sprise, Caster did not fire hueg beams at him and instead told him he needed her help. Shirou was helpful so he deicded to lisen.
“Shiru-sama, u must go to market and buy me fish so I can please Kuzuki and get happy time,” Catser told him strnly, wagging her fingore. Shirou nodded, cus he was scared of her. But first he gave her his clothez to wear so he didn’t look so scairy and went off to buy the fish.
The first lady looked at his strangely because he was naked without his clothes, but gave him some fish because he had helped around the market before. Shrirou to the fish back to Kuzuki-kun and got much tank us from Caster-ojjisama. Assassub was stuck on porch though and couyldnt eat. Lolassassin.
Hope Rides With His Godly Ronin/Cowboy Brother In Law
Eh, no.
Also the typos... I know I shouldn't explain the joke but... they don't work IMO.
Despite myself, I chuckled.
My Fanfics. Read 'em. Or not.McJon01: We all know that the real reason Archer would lose to Rider is because the events of his own Holy Grail War left him with a particular weakness toward "older sister" types.
OK, are all the typos intentional, or did you just not use the spell-checker properly...?
I think (hope) the former. I think it was an attempt to imitate the "bad writing" of certain fanfics.
But I realized that only in the third paragraph, that's why I said hey don't work IMO.
My Fanfics. Read 'em. Or not.McJon01: We all know that the real reason Archer would lose to Rider is because the events of his own Holy Grail War left him with a particular weakness toward "older sister" types.
Tale #5: Riding with Rider
~0~
A tomb now suffices him for whom the whole world was not sufficient.
From Macedonia they came. Banners flapping proudly in the wind, trumpets proclaiming their arrival, all of Athens could feel the armies of the great Macedonian King entering their lands. The wind whispered the name of “Alexander the Great”. The earth sighed and moaned to the beat of horses and the parades of people coming to celebrate the brief return of the legend.
‘He’s conquered Egypt!’ some said in the acropolis, where most assumed he would go, ‘no, no, he’s whipped them over in India!’
Rumors flew and even the common tales of Alexander’s exploits became exaggerated. In one, Alexander had stridden into the throne room of Gordian where he was nearly pierced right through with an arrow from an assassin. He laughed, blood spurting from the wound, and simply pointed to where the arrow had flown from and the assassin fell down dead. The children had said that one, while the adults smiled at the tale and the nay sayer’s scowled.
“Alexander the Conqueror!” they scoffed, “a man so great should return more often to his homeland! What this world needs is stability, not extra lands! Leave Persia and the rest to themselves.”
Acacius loved hearing all tales about the king. He wondered to himself, ‘why would such a great man come to Athens? What waits for him here?’ Soon he would have his answer. On the fifth day from whence the news started, he arrived. The city rang with horns, and all the citizens piled up in huge crowds to watch the parade go past. No, to be more accurate, the parade of foreign men and animals did not draw their attention. What they, each and every single one of them, from the poor to the rich, from sick to healthy, from young to old, was the man who sought to conquer the world itself.
Acacius managed to shove his way to the front just as some screamed and pointed. There, in the very middle of the parade, surrounded on all sides and so thick by his equally famous “Companions”…Alexander. He sat proudly on top of his mighty charger, back straight and eyes gleaming. His fiery red hair blew in the wind, somehow more majestic than all the flags around him. Some looked and pointed to what was behind him, something hidden beneath a burial shroud, but Acacius had eyes only on Alexander.
The man’s eyes flickered toward Acacius’ direction, as though he knew he was being so scrutinized. For one second, for brief moment of time, Acacius felt his whole world, the sum total of his being and existence, weighed in those scarlet eyes and taken in Alexander’s stride. And then the moment passed, and the king’s eyes wandered around, leaving Acasius dizzy. ‘Was he really looking at me, was I simply imagining it?’ he thought.
The crowd followed in the wake of the parade, up, up the ascending steps to the Parthenon. There Alexander stood on a podium, flanked by his finest warriors, all decked out in exotic armors and bearing such weapons as none in Athens had even dreamed of. Only then did Acacius see the shrouded figure lying beside the podium, on top of what seemed like the foundations of a pyre.
“Citizens of Athens!” Alexander’s voice boomed out, needing no supernatural enhancement to make his declarations heard. The sound rebounded off of buildings, off of pillars of the great building behind him, off of the very souls of those gathered. All sound save his voice stopped instantly, “I realize that many of you today are wondering why I have come back to Greece from my travels abroad.”
Travels! The man who stated so boldly that he would conquer the world and see the farthest sea described it all as traveling! Despite Alexander’s presence, a brief stirring arose in the crowd, but died quickly.
“I have come back because of a loss. It is a loss of incalculable grief, of immeasurable sacrifice and of overwhelming courage. Beside me in death as he was in life, lies the body of Cleosidas. Many of you may know him. He was the son of a member of your government, one Euclides. Yes, I see memory stirs in some of you now. When he was a child, Cleosidas was sent to Macedonia to learn from my own teacher, the wise Aristotle, alongside many others.
‘I did not at first get along well with the politician’s son. I believed he was haughty, and too proud by far to be the pupil of Aristotle. We came to blows sometimes, I remember,” Alexander closed his eyes and chuckled in remembrance, “but we both came to respect each other, and to even become friends. When I succeeded my father to the throne, Cleosidas were among my many friends who came to my coronation. I sent him and others back to Athens for a time, to ensure that all was well.
‘When I began my journey to the east, to see the point where the world ends, he hastened to my side. All of my Companions did, for they were my friends. They were my loyal retainers, my confidants, my embassy and my mind. And I would need them, for on my quest there were, and will be, many nations and many alien rules and people who would not wish to see my venture into the unknown, who would rather see me struck down than behold sights no man has ever seen or will again.
‘Cleosidas died defending me from one of these people, he gave his life to protect my back. I avenged his death, I turned the landscape all around me into so much dust and ash, that were any life to grow on that battlefield it would have been a most spiteful and wretched sort, having had to struggle so hard to puncture the withered earth. With his last breath, Cleosidas asked me to bring him back to Athens, and for me to accept his apology that he could no longer journey with me.”
The King’s eyes shone with tears unshed. Were they tears of regret, or tears of fond memories? No, Acacius decided, for this man, this veritable god, surely regret was a concept completely separate from his being.
“So I have come,” Alexander continued, “I have come to honor his life, and bring word of his death. Know this! He died not in vain, he died not begging for extra time on this world! And even if time forgets him, even if time washes us all away in its currents, and we are all but fish in the wide sea of eternity, I will not forget. I will not, and I ask only that Athens not forget this man either. I ask that he be esteemed, and praised for his courage. And I ask this: is there any among you who can fill his shoes? Are there any in this assembly who can achieve, or even surpass, his deeds? Can there be a man or boy who will rush into battle, trample over inferior enemies to my goal?! Is there a single one of you who will stand in my army, who can overcome all the obstacles of the world?! Who can ride with me, who will dare to traverse the world and reach the farthest shores?! Who can stay loyal to me, though the nights be harsh and the days sweltering?! ANSWER ME ATHENS, WHO WILL RIDE WITH ME TO THE ENDS OF THE WORLD?!”
Alexander’s last words rose to a roar that seemed to shake the Parthenon itself, but the resultant cheers, thankfully, matched it. Together, the din rose in force and power to shake not only the Parthenon, not only Athens, but the foundations of the world itself.
Of course Acacius signed up. Indeed, within a week of that speech it seemed half of Athens would be emptied. The resounding challenge, the call to arms, the promise of glory stayed still in the hearts and souls of the youth, and even the elderly thought twice of staying at home and comfort.
In three weeks, Alexander’s army rode out again from Athens, and this time Acacius rode with them. He braved the deserts with his fellows, he saw such wonders that would make a man’s eyes bleed, and beheld such horrors that afterwards still chased him in his darkest nightmares. But he stayed. Along the way east, along the way to the ends of the Earth, many fell. But their eyes said that they traveled still with Alexander, for he had swept all of their lives up in his arms, and held the burden as light as a feather.
And when at last Acacius fell too, nine years later, he died not ashamed or broken. For in his heart the whispers of the ocean still sang, and that speech from long ago remained unforgotten. And he died staring up in eternal awe of Alexander the Great, who through it all stood triumphant and far seeing. And through him, all men could hear the sounds of crashing waves and see magnificent visages, and not a single one of his Companions who died, died unfulfilled. They had done their duty.
Hope Rides With His Godly Ronin/Cowboy Brother In Law
;_;
Now, this was good.
SAVED.
Oh god, Arching with Archer was . . . amazing.
Riding with Rider was a beautiful expression of a pure majesty of the King. This is the reason this man was worthy to Face the End of the World.
Then let it break, if it shatters to pieces then forge an even better blade to take in hand. Should that blade crack then forge once again, untill the battlefield is a graveyard of blades that have fallen and but a single sword claims the field that embodies the world. Let that sword bear the world untill its time comes and time blows its dust to the winds. Then forge again.---Eric Dagger
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