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Wake Up Call

[After this]

Rider doesn't know how he makes it back to the Tohsaka household after his encounter with Saber. That he does at all is impressive, as is the fact that he manages to walk around the house without making a noise.

Well, up until he gets to Chiyo's room, nudges her once, then flops onto the floor elegantly. Damn whatever complaints she has about blood on the floor.

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bad decision dinosauring is rider's job

The very loud capslocking adventures of Lancer and Rider as Rider tries makes bad decisions

( DO YOU REALLY WANT TO EXPLAIN THAT A PART OF YOUR NOBLE PHANTASM GOT DRUNK AS HELL WITH AN ENEMY SERVANT AND TRIED TANUKI HUNTING and consider how you got to the point in your life that you have had to say those words? )

Quick to Descend

from here

Rider's form comes back to Chiyo's side, but one he's there and material again he takes great care to stand and put distance between them. There is nothing in Rider's body but raw anger now, anger that makes him shake and choke on his own words, beyond letting out a thundering, "What was that for?!" If the rest of the Tohsaka house wakes, so be it. Let them see this.

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God AU! Fic: The Old Patterns

Title: The Old Patterns
Characters: Lancer, Saber and Rider, special guest appearance from the other Archer.
Words: 1161
Summary: Fucking around with Godhead AU in which the apocalypse is arranged! With thanks to Gil and Puel for looking this over and making sure I got Lancer and Saber voices right.

( Beginnings need ends )

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The Scenario of "What if Kirsikka Won and Dragged Team Lansaber into Godhead?"

Or, how would their mythology and mourning rituals go?

( You know that six coins in a purse becomes a part of burial ritual. )

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Horsepower

There is something unspeakably insulting to Rider about being in a suit. It is not as if it does not flatter him - padded shoulders and a tapered waist do wonders to showcase his form beneath layers of fabric, and the blue of his tie strives to match the lapis lazuli that was used to summon him - but it forces anyone gazing upon him to guess at the strength his muscles so clearly show and there is where the offense of the suit lies.

Other insults linger in his mind as he reflects on this matter, fiddling irritably at the buttons of the suit jacket. Being used a dress up doll is only one more tally mark against his supposed master, who called upon him for great and glorious battle, yet has failed to provide him with even a single opponent. Each time he had attempted to speak with her about the matter, he had been dismissed, and he knows that a fourth attempt to cajole her into letting him fight something will be greeted with even more anger than the previous three attempts. That does not stop him from preparing an appropriate speech to hurl at his master, and if he can rouse her to anger when she comes in to inspect the work of her tailors, so be it. It will at least be a fight of some sort, and even a brief one will gladden his spirits.