Hi everyone. :) Here is the full translation for Chapter 14 of Clear Card Arc. The color spread in the chapter was particularly lovely this time! Also there was a blurb in the beginning about the OAD screening that happened at Anime Expo last month and it was really nice to see that shout out in Nakayoshi.
As I mentioned before in the preview post, there is a line in this chapter that could cause some confusion meaning-wise for the arc further on,
so I left it as a more vague translation. The word is 違う (chigau), a commonly used word meaning “wrong” or “different” depending on the context it’s used in. Please see the note in my text for further details.
(I'm the same anon who asked about requests) Oh good to know! ^^ In that case, do you have anything against drawing katt/falco? I absolutely understand if you don't want to if you don't ship it, thanks for reading my messages (◡‿◡✿)
I’ve had the urge to doodle this ever since I saw @flamboyantwreck‘s Dorian Time episodes pop up on my dash and on Parle’s YouTube. Which I happen to enjoy very much.
This image was inspired specifically by a part from Chapter 2 (quoted below):
“I think, if I were Inquisitor, the crime rate would go down. Do you know why? Because I would enforce much stricter punishments.”
“What’s that? You… You blew up the Chantry?! Ten years in plaideweave!”
Glorious. Truely glorious and I immediately thought of a certain feathered apostate and decided to doodle this monstrosity of an image. Ugh… plaidweave is indeed a horrendous pattern. Oh well, Anders, it’s only 10 years. Fwah, fwah, fwah ;P
(Suppose it’s a little gift-doodle for Jack… I guess.)
Between school and work and countless essays on this and that Renaissance artist, Francis was just getting into the shower by the time 2:45 am rolled around. It was something he had looked forward to all day and since it was so late, there was no one else in the bathroom. He let out a relieved groan as the hot water cascaded over him, slowly filling the room with steam.
So of course that was when the fire alarm went off.
But to anyone who knew Francis, it came as no great surprise that he simply refused to get out of the shower. No doubt the alarm was once again due to some inept dunderhead setting their Hot Pockets on fire because they couldn’t keep their microscopic attention span on something for more than three minutes. He wasn’t leaving the shower for that.
So when the RA came up short on the list of people who should’ve been huddled out on the sidewalk–and had confirmed evidence from Francis’ roommate Roderich that he WAS in fact somewhere around here–he was cursing his friend through a blue streak. He wasn’t at all surprised to pound in the door of the bathroom and see Francis’ telltale purple flipflops sitting beneath his towel on the rack.
“Goddamit Bonnefoy!” he snarled as he hauled the Frenchman out of the shower. “Get your sorry ass out on the sidewalk with everyone else!”
“I was in the shower,” Francis said, as if that explained everything that needed to be said.
“Get down those stairs before I kick you down!” Gilbert howled, at his wits’ end with this entire job.
“You want me to jump and run over every false alarm?” Francis complained as they Gilbert hustled him down the stairs.
“Yes, I do!” he exclaimed, a purple vein jumping in his pale forehead. “That’s why they’re called RULES you French ass, not SUGGESTIONS. When the fire alarm goes off, you GET OUT.”
“It’s a complete waste of time!” Francis objected, turning to look at Gilbert. “And you KNOW it! Don’t even deny it!”
“As far as you know this building is on fire, now get out!” Gilbert demanded, shoving the scantily clad young man out the door. “One of these I"m actually going to have to fine your stupid ass!”
“It’s cold,” he whined as his bare feet hit the pavement.
“Then go flirt with a firefighter and get his jacket,” Gilbert snapped. “Just go stand with everyone else and stop being such a pain.” Muttering about the injustice and the need for a mass student demonstration, Francis stalked over to the sidewalk.
“Beilschmidt!” Gilbert resisted the urge to start bashing his head against the brick wall of the dorm building. “Beilschmidt you better have a name for this.” Arthur Kirkland approached with the wrath of a king, waving a finger around, his dark green eyes flashing furiously as if he were intent on locating Ghandi’s killer rather than who had scorched their frozen pizza.
“Look Kirkland I don’t have time–”
“I want NAMES Beilschdmit!” Arthur demanded, one hand forming a claw as he glared up at his RA, who was a good half a foot taller, at least. “I want to know what Neolithic degenerate is responsible for this UPSET!”
“Dammit Kirkland, it’s not my job to have a freaking police report on the issue! What do I look like to you, Sherlock Holmes?”
“You don’t look nearly intelligent enough to be Watson, let alone Holmes,” Kirkland sniffed, crossing his arms over his olive green and brown argyle sweater vest. “But that’s beside the point. I was in the middle of an essay that will revolutionize the way schools teach Shakespeare–”
“Sure it will,” Gilbert breathed in an undertone. Kirkland ignored him.
“–and I want to know who interrupted me.” Gilbert leaned in and took a deep breath. “Bu–what–are you sniffing me?” Arthur blustered furiously.
“You smell like rum,” Gilbert observed.
“Dammit Kirkland! I told you you’re not supposed to have hard alcohol in your dorm room!” Gilbert shouted, shaking his fists at the sky.
“I didn’t! And it was only a bottle! And you’re avoiding the question!” Arthur argued.
“Look I already had to deal with Bonnefoy–” He jerked a finger in Francis’ direction just as the indignant “Bonnefoy!” corrected his pronunciation (Bone-eh-foi vs. Bon-fwah), which Francis somehow managed to always hear, no matter if he was seemingly engaged in something completely different, “–I’m not dealing with you too.”
Arthur followed his direction as was the natural reaction to someone pointing something out. He caught a brief sight of a naked blond, clad only on a fluffy white towel, before his gaze was back on Gilbert, ready to carry on with his righteous rage about the fire alarm situation. But just as quickly, he jerked his attention back to the towel-clad student.
“That bastard,” he exhaled with force. No on–absolutely no one–had any right to be that attractive. Especially not wearing nothing but a towel standing on the sidewalk amidst two dozen other students in rumpled pajamas, stifling yawns and rubbing their eyes. What sports did he do to make his back look like that? Of course, no sport in the world could change such a base, such an elegantly formed figure. It was just illegal, or it should’ve been and oh God he was turning over this way and the only thing Arthur’s eyes could focus on, besides the man’s beautifully sculpted chest, was the trail of golden blond hair creeping down from his bellybutton and dipping below the line of the towel clutched loosely around the blond’s waist. Were they blue, his eyes? No, one word couldn’t be sufficient for something that looked like that! ‘The color of the sky after a storm’ perhaps, or 'a violet floating down a stream in the woods’ or even 'the TARDIS as seen through a kaleidoscope’.
“Look if you’re blaming Francis it wasn’t him,” Gilbert began to defend him, apparently not noticing the nature of Arthur’s focus. “That moron wouldn’t get out of the shower even if the building really was on fire.”
“The what?” Arthur blinked and forced his attention back to Gilbert’s much less artistically formed face. If one ever was in need of a face to compare to a summer’s day…He shook his head. He was having a conversation. Right? With the RA, yes? Yeah. That was it.
“The fire,” Gilbert said. “The thing you’ve been ranting at me about for disrupting your essay on Freud or whatever.”
“Who wrote the what?”
“You’ve had too much rum, you lightweight,” Gilbert said just as Arthur finally slapped some sense back into himself.
“I mean yes! The fire! And my essay! You better have some names for me by the time we get back inside,” he warned uselessly. “Take care of it Beilschdmit!” With flaming cheeks and his cracked dignity cradled in his arms, Arthur strode off as if that had gone exactly according to plan.
“The fuck is his problem?” Gilbert asked as Francis meandered back over to him.
“He’s English, mon ami, what other problem does he need?”
I'm all for top!Jungkook. Before I was indifferent towards top!Jimin but when now I cannot see Jungkook as a bottom no matter how hard I try, especially after Puberty-nimTM smashed into him with a force of a sledgehammer... Powerbottom!Jimin ftw ^^
lol the puberty card. always valid ;P
in my mind, I always think of bottom!jimin seducing the hell out of jungkook, especially with how Jimin’s been acting lately. i mean, are you even human if you can resist jimin like that? he’d probably be a complete tease and with jungkook’s tendency to be all hot-blooded and passionate…I’m sure all the tension would probably translate into a lot of aggression later… ;)