A Clock Tower Affair

[Renko]

What. What. What! What?!

That was very....nostalgic.

[AkaiNeko]

I'm not sure what I just read, nor am I sure how I feel about it.

RinxWaver's wife otp?

SUPPORT.

[YeOfLittleFaith]

Bloble, I haven't the slightest idea what I just read but it was zany, wonderful, and I want to hear the rest of this infamous story.

[VelspertheCat]

Well, until he lost his head anyway, cuz' it looked like he got a good taste of purple-head tortu-, err, I mean, enhanced interrogation technique.

Sakura brought democracy to Shirou's soul.

[Ergast]

But it's with democracy how they managed to not kill half the mons in the 2nd generation of TPP... Shouldn't that be "Sakura brought anarchy to Shirou's soul." or something?

[VelspertheCat]

Shirou had a source of oil, so I"m pretty sure it's democracy.

[shiningphoenix]

Shirou had a source of oil, so I"m pretty sure it's democracy.

Prospectors discover crude oil in Unlimited Blade Works?

[VelspertheCat]

And all those minerals.

A world devoted to making weapons would have a ton of natural resources. Time to exploit the fuck out of Shirou. For freedom.

[NewAgeOfPower]

broble wtf

[Bloble]

There are many issues plaguing the Clock Tower and its myriad of unexplored rooms, ranging from mundane things like that one leak in a certain lecture hall stubbornly refusing to be fixed as it emasculates dozens of otherwise skilled janitors, to the Friday night betting pools over which of the parade of adventurers beginning their journey into the Basement (or as it is unofficially called by pretty much everyone, the Dungeons of Doom) will come out the next day with their mind intact, with side bets on whether said adventurers will have been transformed into slimes or break dancing skeletons before exiting. A minor event that brought a certain level of fame to this unsavory practice is the great Dance Dance Revolution of 2002, where an enterprising student managed to crawl out of the Basement after enduring twenty six hours of exposure to unspeakable horrors, only to find his errant bones doing a skillful variation of a complex tango with his girlfriend, who immediately dumped the spineless (and skull-less and rib-less) wimp for his much more powerful bones. The outcome was so unlikely that several Crests changed hands that day, and a minor family lost seven generations worth of expensive mana potions to a girl named Candi, who promised to put them to good use in her latest video.

Candi is a vitally important component of this story, not because of the quality of her video, which a great many magi proclaimed was her best yet and ended up making her a very rich lady, but because said video is the one Waver Velvet was in the middle of watching when his wife first entered his private quarters to ask where he put the house maid. The amount of violence Candi’s video caused that day was enough to cancel WAVE’s lectures for a week, leading to days of joyous celebration and an entire generation of students that went without knowing exactly how to deal with an undead dragon rampaging through the halls with the Vice Director’s unconscious and scantily clad body clamped firmly in its mouth. It also resulted in Waver sleeping on the couch for the duration of that long, painful week, the last day of which annoyed him so much that he invited a Japanese schoolgirl wearing an absurdly short skirt and long stockings into his house for tea, just to see the expression on his wife’s face.

It wasn’t a very pretty expression. Tohsaka Rin could tell that much. First impressions are powerful things that can and will colour a person’s opinion of another for weeks and possibly even the rest of their lives. Tohsaka Rin’s impression of Waver Velvet’s wife was such a powerful one that she completely forgot how lukewarm and bitter the tea was. She remembered not one second of the awkward, uncomfortable hour spent sitting at a tiny table with two complete strangers that seemed to be in an eternal staring contest. The memory of Shirou and her previous anger faded away instantly, swept away by the flood of endorphins and hormones that had been triggered when Rin saw Waver Annabelle Velvet’s wife.

“Hate,” Rin wanted to say. “Hate. If I carved the word Hate upon every individual unit of prana in my circuits and kept them active for an entire year, the amount of pain I feel would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for you this very second. Hate.”

Instead of being honest, Rin drank some more of the badly made tea, smiled sweetly, and thanked Waver for his hospitality in cute, broken English. As the hour elapsed and a large, building sized clock somewhere in the city rang out, she excused herself and made to leave.

Waver’s wife laughed and poured Rin another cup of tea, insisting with a cheerful, thoughtless grace that it was much too late for a Japanese student to be wandering around the city at night. It was dangerous after all, and Rin was oh so frail-looking. Waver would be a gentleman and give up his spot in the bedroom for the night, since hospitality trumped all. Rin’s hatred for Waver’s wife doubled, tripled, and folded into a quantum singularity of imaginary numbers. She nodded, thanked Waver’s kind and generous wife, and insisted that she couldn’t possibly impose. At this point Waver had silently retreated to the kitchen to take refuge in dish washing while the verbal joust in the dining room escalated beyond his wildest estimations.

Several minutes later, after Rin’s hatred of Waver’s wife had grown larger than the universe could sustain and branched off into an entirely separate sub-reality of its own, the foreigner capitulated and accepted her victor’s extremely unreasonable terms of surrender with as much grace as she could muster given the situation, which was less than she’d have liked and more than Waver’s wife deserved. She kept up the pleasant, agreeable expression until the moment Waver’s delighted wife left the room to prepare the beds, after which she released all of her unbearable hatred for a single, infinitesimal moment. Anyone seeing her expression at that moment would’ve suffered from PTSD, claimed they’d seen the devil, or sworn violently that they’d never cheat at magical strip poker again. Anyone, that is, except for Waver, who sat down beside Rin, allowed a small, knowing smile to slip out of his calm façade, offered Rin some much more expertly prepared tea, and said: “I know how you feel.”

She silently accepted the drink, took a sip, and released all of her pent up frustration with a sigh that would put the most exasperated of parents to shame.

Waver poured the rest of the pot into his own cup and mirrored Rin’s actions silently. After a moment of time equivalent to five minutes divided by the average time it takes for Matou Shinji to get rid of his morning wood, he spoke. “I don’t like it when people punch holes in my walls.”

Rin nodded, took another sip, and apologized in English. Normally she wouldn’t have considered such a thing, but after experiencing a loathing that dwarfed even the reaction her little sister normally elicited, Waver seemed like a beautiful tea-bestowing angel who could do no wrong, and she didn’t hesitate to try and get on his good side. Her apology was so endearing that it cannot be reproduced in text, so you’ll have to take my word for it that it was ridiculously cute. It was almost enough to make up for the fact that Waver’s wife had been perfectly perky the whole time, not even breaking a sweat after being told in excruciating detail by her husband about the grievous wound her precious wall had suffered at the hands of an unknown but certainly gorgeous assailant.

Waver downed the cup and, with typical British stoicism, shook his head. “She hates it when people punch holes in her walls. Good job. Keep acting like that and you’ll go places.”

He was right. Rin was definitely going places. More specifically, his bedroom. Alas, such a statement was in that context much less suggestive than it ought to have been, as Waver belatedly realized that the small space between the exotic girl’s stockings and the bottom of her skirt was more attractive than anything he’d seen on his journeys through hotasianbeauties.com and geishasgalore.net. The fact that said girl looked to be about a decade his junior didn’t perturb the lecturer, who had long ago become acclimatized to the constant stream of ambitious young magi offering to perform services for him after class in exchange for better marks. Those enterprising boys, girls, and hermaphrodites wished to go places, but the only place they ever went was the Dunce Stool, a nefarious cursed chair that temporarily sapped the IQ of whoever sat on it. The complementary cap was a toy prop, but worked unrealistically well as a way to draw the attention of those who would have to wear it, ensuring that they worked hard to counter the nonexistent enchantment on it rather than the much more real one they would be sitting on. Waver never told anyone where he’d gotten the stool (it was the basement) or that it was cursed, because if he did he wouldn’t be able to bait those he disliked into sitting on it and leaving the room doing a bad Mr. Bean impression. Alas, his wife was too canny to be tricked so easily, but Waver still fondly recalled the one time he’d left a certain fair haired, fair bearded, fair-hating professor dumbly asking every passerby about where he could get the toffee and ice cream Santa Claus had promised him for Christmas. In the middle of April.

“Here,” Waver said as he slipped a business card down the flabbergasted Rin’s shirt. “Come to my lectures. Those prissy bastards ‘forgot’ to list it in the catalogue this year, and I need at least one student to sign up so I can collect my paycheck. Consider any fees waived. Good luck.”

With an abrupt farewell, the relatively un-ambitious student who was most certainly going places changed into her pajamas and made her way to the master bedroom with some trepidation, blanching when she realized that there were not, in fact, two beds, but a single heart shaped monstrosity that boasted a salmon pink colour scheme and looked to have been stolen from a tacky love hotel. Waver Velvet’s wife was already fast asleep on one side, hogging a thin blanket that was almost see-through, complimenting her almost transparent night wear. As Rin watched, Waver’s wife stretched out without opening her eyes or giving any appearance of having woken up, scattering blonde curls every which way and arching her chest forward in a motion that would give anyone attracted to women an unfortunate erection, even if said person happened to lack the necessary genitalia. Rin quickly brushed away her phantom erection and hesitantly lay down on the other side, facing away from the hateful sex goddess still unconsciously performing positions from the Kama Sutra in her sleep.

The Japanese schoolgirl was left feeling that there was something incredibly dangerous about her situation, but couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. In any case, sleep would be impossible to achieve with such a despicable person behind her, so Rin knew she needed to be vigilant and stay awake, lest she get eaten alive in her sleep by a she-beast more dangerous than a True Ancestor on a ‘red moon’ day.

Of course, being tired and stressed and still a bit miffed about losing her first boyfriend before they could even go on one date, Rin fell asleep almost immediately, suffering terrible nightmares plagued by idiotic talking redheaded skulls, undead dragons, and an uncomfortable intrusion between her legs that felt suspiciously like Waver’s wife’s hand’s fingers.

[YeOfLittleFaith]

Oh god. XD

Yes.

[Aiden]

... bro, what the fuck.

Why am I laughing

[shiningphoenix]

an uncomfortable intrusion between her legs that felt suspiciously like Waver’s wife’s hand’s fingers.

Uncomfortable?

: "She was pinching me!"

[Kirby]

Luvia. Is she Luvia? She sounds like Luvia.

[Mattias]

I should have expected Rin's torrid affair would be with Waver's wife not him...

[Bloble]

Luvia. Is she Luvia? She sounds like Luvia.

Waver's wife is a real human bean.

[Zalgo Jenkins]

I should have expected Rin's torrid affair would be with Waver's wife not him...

I still halfway suspect that Rin somehow ends up seduced by both of them at separate times, and has to balance her new triple life rather than risk the consequences of either finding out.

[Olive]

I can't tell whether or not my guess prompted this, but I'm finding myself not caring because I'm laughing too hard.

[KitsuneKo]

This is glorious. Oh God, so glorious.

[Fafnir]

le wut

EDIT: it occurs to me I still have no idea what Waver's wife looks like. All we know is she's blonde and Rin hates her. Are you doing this on purpose?

*peers*