#it keeps coming

[xx-sketchy-xx]

Cause he’s a phantom

[chumchunom]

Nicole and Josh won with how many votes?

[the-sapphiresky]

A Matter of Pride

AN: Who’s up for a prequel to Mr Holmes? 

When the bell chimed to announce a visitor, Molly quickly wiped her tears and put away her journal, the ink not yet dry on the page, the relating of the story Colonel Lestrade had conveyed that morning not yet finished. Oh, but how she wished to be alone in her anger and sorrow. That her dearest friend, her beloved cousin, had been cheated of love by that horrible man and his arrogant meddling! 

Hearing footsteps heading toward the sitting room, she stood and composed herself to greet whomever had come with a courteous smile.

The maid opened the door and bobbed a quick curtsy, before stepping out of the way to let the visitor pass.

“Mr Holmes!” Molly stared at him in surprise, a turmoil rising in her chest as she suddenly was faced with the man at the centre of her ire.

“Miss Hooper.” He bowed curtly and she belatedly remembered to curtsy. His usual stoic nature abandoned, he strode past her and laid his top hat on the table, next to her journal. His fingers danced along the wood top and he seemed to be almost manic in his agitation.

“I confess I did not expect to see you again so soon after yesterday,” she said and lowered herself into an armchair, clasping her hands together so he could not see them trembling. She clenched her teeth and reminded herself that she was a lady, perhaps not in a social class that equaled his, but a lady nonetheless. And a lady minded her tongue, spoke softly, and most assuredly would not slap a man unless in defence of her person. No matter how she longed to.

He glanced at her and sat in the chair opposite, crossing his ankle over his knee. For a moment, he remained unnaturally still. Then in a burst of energy, he jumped and began to pace.

“Is everything quite all right?”

“No. It is not,” he snapped. Molly raised her eyebrows.He paced back and forth, breathing quite harshly, before stopping before her and gesturing toward her with an accusing hand. “You are a truly vexing creature, Miss Hooper. And though I have tried, by God, how I have tried, I am unable to overcome these wretched emotions.”

She watched with wide eyes and a pounding heart, as he ran a hand through his curls.

“It is hopeless to fight it, so I have decided to concede defeat and admit that I love you.”

All the colour drained from her face and she wondered if the earth had gone still, so quiet were the seconds after his admission.

But then he began pacing once more, his words flowing together and increasing in speed. “Though it is against my better judgment and all logical sense, there the truth stands. An inconceivable truth, perhaps. After all, a man of my intelligence, status, and class is hardly considered in want of female company. But I have found no use for it. However, I now find myself unable to think of anything else but of you. Despite your lack of familial ties and somewhat unremarkable beauty, I have come to admire your intelligence and comely appearance, an admiration that has swiftly turned to love. So I beg you most fervently to relieve my suffering and consent to be my wife.”

The ticking of the clock on the mantle filled the silence that fell following his declaration. Looking down at her lap, Molly’s heart pounded and she wondered how he could not hear it. This man, this hateful man who had destroyed her beloved cousin’s happiness, stood before her as a man in love, proposing marriage of all things!

Breathing deeply, she considered her words. “I am afraid I must decline.” She spoke calmly, the even tone of her voice belying the racing of her heart. She lifted her gaze to his and prayed for strength. “It was never my intention to vex you so and for that I am sorry.”

He stared at her blankly, as if surprised she had not joyfully accepted his suit. He paced away, leaning on the mantel, before looking back at her. His eyes searched her face. His baritone voice was low and even, but she could hear the timbre of anger underneath. “May I ask why I am to be refused?”

Pushing herself up, she stood as tall as her diminutive stature would allow, relying on her righteous anger to cow the man before her. “Mr Holmes, you have managed to insult me, mock my lack of immediate family, and rob my dearest cousin of her chance for love and happiness.” 

Mr Holmes blanched and blinked repeatedly.

“Still you ask why I would refuse you.” Molly scoffed in an unladylike manner. “Mr Holmes, you could have all the money in the world, but not a single note of it would persuade me to accept you. Had you treated me in a more gentlemanly manner and not been instrumental in breaking my cousin’s heart, my answer might have been more hesitant. And knowing now how horribly you have treated Mr Brook, a man once considered as close to your family as blood, I can assuredly say that you would be the last man on earth I could ever be prevailed upon to marry!”

At the name of his once-friend, Mr Holmes’ face darkened and a fury washed over his regal features. Molly was instantly struck by the thought of how he could change from a wealthy upperclassmen, aloof and cold perhaps, to London’s famous detective, whose very name sent criminals running in fear.

In the silence that followed her exclamation, Molly held her breath in fear that he would let loose his infamous cutting remarks, his mouth parted slightly. But then, he closed it and the muscles in his jaw clenched. His nostrils flared and the agitated, enamored suitor who had entered the room was replaced by the cold, stoic Mr Holmes she was acquainted with. 

“Forgive me for wasting your time. Good day, Miss Hooper,” he said quickly and coldly, then snapped his heels and bowed. Setting his hat on his head, he swept from the room and slammed the door behind him.

Trembling, Molly stared after him, lowering herself slowly onto the chair. A righteous satisfaction filled her, but she was also struck by a sudden disappointment. He hadn’t defended himself at all or given any excuse for his actions, in fact. 

She wondered at that. Was she disappointed that he hadn’t given her the satisfaction of a halfhearted denial, of challenging his excuses? 

Or perhaps she was disappointed that he hadn’t offered her a reason at all that would help her to understand why he had done the things he’d done. A reason that might have led her to reconsider her opinion of him. 

[thatgoblin]

I mean, if you are absolutely determined to make me talk about Resident Evil... I guess I could point out that r4cs0 isn't a real gamer. He thinks Metal Gear Solid is a twerking simulator because he never played it. I don't think he has ever mentioned Resident Evil, but I'm sure he hasn't played that either and probably assumes it was a sequel to Dance Dance Revolution. He has suffered a lot of head injuries while trying to correctly interpret the I Ching.

Welp, not a fucking bot then. I don't know who you're talking about or why you're coming to me, but OKAY? Not sure what I can do other than fucking post these asks, but like maybe go take a nap? Have some electrolytes or something?

SOMEONE COME GET YO PERSON!

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Another Sky announce Music For Winter Vol. 1 EP; listen to first cut ‘It Keeps Coming’

On the first day of 2021, Another Sky will release their latest body of work, an EP entitled, Music For Winter Vol. I.  Consisting of singles ‘It Keeps Coming’ and ‘Sun Seeker’, the EP follows the band’s much acclaimed 2020 debut album I Slept On The Floor.

"Winter is the perfect time for sombre music," says Catrin Vincent, vocalist and lyricist of Another Sky. On how the project came together, Vincent explains, "some songs are old, some are new, all are entirely collaborative. After being kept apart because of the lockdown and writing a bunch of our second album separately, we just wanted to get back into our studio and record." The entire EP was recorded, produced and mixed by the band themselves at their South London studio, The Lighthouse, in October 2020. For the first time in six years, the band couldn't see each other, and the band's bassist Naomi was able to sit still long enough to confront her intense fear of going to hell for being in a same-sex relationship, due to a Christian upbringing. Catrin explains, "after lockdown eased, myself and Naomi revisited the opening track 'Pieces', an old track originally sung by Naomi. We wrote lyrics together from an imagined conversation with a loved one telling Naomi she was going to hell." Naomi’s journey became the lyrical foundation for each of these six songs as Catrin drew universal comparisons with others' lives; "a struggle with identity, walking past churches you are no longer part of and the person you become when you are in pain. If there is no end in sight of struggle, where are our white sands, green hills and fresh fish? If we can't ever truly escape, which is what we were exploring in our debut album I Slept On The Floor, can we carry paradise in ourselves?" Naomi adds about her experience, "It’s so easy to push things to the back of your mind. You never really know the impact this has on you until it becomes overbearing, and you're forced to address it. I found it incredibly cathartic to tackle these issues head-on by visualising certain situations and being able to say whatever I needed to say, both in therapy and in writing music”.

Photo credit: Ella Brolly