Took practically all day with this and I have no regrets about it. Made some changes to his junior high jersey, but kept it a shade of yellow since I was attached to it; soft/pale yellow works lol
Shouji’s junior academy theme is wolves and I’ve settled on the name Ookamikaze, ‘wolf wind’ lol I may change it later if I think of something else but so far this is the only name I have thrown out yet XD; I wanted to come up with a name because I have a character profile I want to do and he’s one of the underclassmen that will take over when most of his team graduates and moves to high school. Anywho…
I think as far as detailed art this will be it for the night. I have a normal-ish schedule tomorrow so I won’t be staying up as late. But..I..kinda want to doodle still so we’ll see how the night goes.
The “I love you” moment at the end of the trailer threw us all for a loop! Who was he talking to? Mycroft? John? A third party in the room?
I was actually struck by the frame of the scene, with John and Mycroft behind either of Sherlock’s shoulders.
Doesn’t it remind you of something?
Ah, yes. There it is. The same framing from “The Great Game” with John and Greg on one side and Mrs Wenceslas on the other.
Which makes me wonder… is he speaking to someone on the other side of a phone?
And if so who?
Let’s take a step back and look at the rest of the trailer. And we can see that at 0.27 seconds:
What if Moriarty had managed to get to Molly, the one who mattered most in Sherlock’s survival of their “game”, and sought his revenge for her interference. And if he intended to kill her, he would want Sherlock to suffer. And what better way than to have Sherlock hear her death from afar, where he had no chance to save her.
And Sherlolly shipper or not, Molly is Sherlock’s friend. If he knew she was going to die, perhaps what little kindness he can afford her is telling her the words she needed to hear from him.
in the spirit of november 30th and the last day of “no shave november” i give you this zimbits fic. in which jack finally shaves his moustache and to say that bitty is thrilled would be an understatement. it’s all very warm and fuzzy, but not in a movember moustache way.
When Jack get’s home from the game the apartment is dark and quiet, but the light over the oven is on and he can smell butter and bananas, so he knows that Bitty’s still awake. The Falconers played the Lightning and won the game 4-2. Jack scored the opening goal and got an assist on the last one that helped to keep them ahead. He’s feels exhausted, but he perks up when he sees Bitty shuffle out of the bedroom in a Falconer’s hoodie and that pair of red shorts.
“Jack! I didn’t hear you come in,” Bitty exclaims when he notices Jack standing in the doorway, his shoes still on and his bag still slung over his shoulder. “Congrats on the win, sweetheart.”
Jack smiles and drops his bag before he welcomes Bitty with open arms as the other man walks over for a hug. “Thank you, mon lapin,” Jack replies before he presses a kiss into Bitty’s hair. These moments are his favourite. Coming home to a warm apartment that looks and smells like it’s been lived in while he was out. Bitty left a couple of bowls on the counter and his textbooks are strewn over the coffee table. It’s perfect. Jack likes having someone here with him. He likes coming home to someone.
Jack pulls away slightly and tilts Bitty’s head up with a finger under his chin, but when closes his eyes and leans in for the kiss, instead of lips, he feels two fingers hold him back. His eyes snap open as he begins to worry that something is wrong. “Bits?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” Bitty sighs when he sees Jack’s furrowed brow and he takes his fingers away from Jack’s mouth. “But… you promised…” he trails off as he traces his thumb over Jack’s moustache, making a face of distaste as he does so.
Jack smirks as he remembers the conversation that they had last night before bed, and the night before that, and the day before that over the phone. “I promised I’d shave off the moustache when I got home from the game on the thirtieth,” he recalls, like a mantra.