pictures are louder than words


I tried to recommend the ones that haven’t been mentioned before, but if you see a repeat, that just means you must read it. The ones with a star ( ★ ) are the fics that I absolutely love and those that I’m keeping a close eye on because they’re sooo good  ♥  I put the list under the cut because it’s too long. Also, © means the fic is complete, (O) is for ongoing, and (1) is for oneshot. ENJOY!

PS: You might wonder - why ShisuixHinata? Well, just read the fics below to find out. I might be able to convert you *evil laughter*

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As I was  browsing through screen caps of the Sign of Three I noticed something:

Remember Sherlock at Barts when he wanted Molly to calculate his and John’s optimal alcohol intake? He handed her this medical file of John where he had placed John’s head to the body of da Vinci’s Vitruvian man.

Here’s Molly’s reaction to that:

Now, I’d love to write an insightful meta on Sherlock’s coming out to Molly in this scene, how this affects the both of them and how maybe, this moment was the decisive one that pushed Molly to miscalculate not quite so in-deliberately, maybe as a little FU gesture, or as a push to get the pair of them together,  but alas, I’m not a writer. (Also pictures speak louder than any words on my flawed English:)

Look, rainbows, rainbows everywhere! If you quite didn’t get it already, Molly had a literal light bulb moment of realisation:

If Molly hadn’t been sure before, now she finally was: it was never going to happen between her and Sherlock. He’d just come out to her, and she wasn’t a John Watson. Might as well speed things up with a little alcohol.


Response to AxGWeek prompt: WHISPER

It starts as a whisper across Westeros. Have you heard? Yes, the Stark girl. No, the younger one. No, don’t be daft, she’s alive. Yes, her. And old King Robert’s bastard, they say. Of course he had a bastard, you dunce. He had one in every kingdom if the tales are to be believed. No, this is the oldest. Aye, a blacksmith, they say.

Then suddenly it’s a buzz, heard in dark corners of taverns and inns from Flea Bottom to Harrenhall to Wintertown to Dorne. That’s right, the wolf and the stag. Or is it a bull? The very ghosts of Robert and Lyanna, roamin’ the halls of Winterfell, old Lord Eddard’s castle. Don’t you lie, Hugor, you never saw ‘em. During the War of the Five Kings, you say? Wandering the riverlands with Beric and Thoros? Do you take me for an idiot?

Next thing you know it’s common knowledge, north and south of the wall and as far as the free cities. The true and the false. Married? Are you certain? He’s a bastard. More like he stole her away. Oh, that’s right, she’s half wolf that one…if anyone did the stealing, it was her. Married, with King Jon’s blessing?! Legitimized?! Huh, wish the king would legitimize me. Well, they must be halfway to Storm’s End by now. Staying in Winterfell?! What’d they want there? That’s her brother’s right. Most like they’ll be hoping to inherit somehow.

Soon it’s a proclamation for all to hear, the rich and poor, old and young. The son of late King Robert and daughter of the Hand, late Lord Eddard. What a sight to see. If only they ever left that blasted freezing North of theirs. Ned and Robert were best of friends, you know? As good as brothers. It’d tickle them pink to see their children married, I’d wager. They say the two fought side-by-side as children and, later, during the War of the Dead. Say they slew thousands of them white walkers in their wake. Side-by-side in battle just like their dead fathers, them two. Of course the girl can fight! That’s how they make ‘em in the North.

It’s deafening after that. It’s all anyone can talk about. Bah! No one wants to hear about the bloody beautiful dragon queen no more. It’s that Stark girl we’re all wantin’ a glimpse of now. They say she’s twice as beautiful as her aunt and ten times ferocious. You hear the blacksmith is the pretty one? He’s a lord now, and try sayin’ that to his face and see if he don’t bring his war hammer down on yer head now. That’s right, just like King Robert’s hammer, and this boy’s hammer is thrice as heavy. Made of Valyrian steel, they say. Forged it ‘imself. And the lady carries Dark Sister. Who do you bloody think gave it to her? The new Targaryen king, ‘er brother. Well, yes, cousin, ‘tis true. But she calls ‘im brother all the same.

But pictures speak louder than words, after all, and Westeros is soon graced with the sight they’ve all been waiting for. Look, there they go, on the way to see the king married, they are. Yes, those two. The tall one what looks like he could drop your house on your head, and the maid astride in front of ‘im. ‘Course that’s a girl. They don’t got to wear dresses to be girls. She’s more beautiful than they say even. And look at them eyes. Those are Lord Eddard’s eyes or I’m the queen. She’s’ a deadly one, she is. Just look at that wolf aside ‘em. That’s a direwolf, that is. Near as big as that stallion. They say the girl and the wolf are one, you know. Wargs, that’s what them Starks are, and thank the gods or spring might never o’ come.

Time passes, as it’s wont to do, and the talk dies down eventually, settling finally into whispers once more. Settled in Winterfell for good, they say. Them Starks stick close make no doubt about it. The smith’s as good a Stark by now. A little one you say? Ohhh, well they would name him Ned, wouldn’t they? Takes after the smith though, I’d wager? All of Robert’s actual welps did, didn’t they? There’s two you say? Three in all?! A little Ned, a little Robb and a wee Cat, ey? And more’s the better. Wild little things they’ll be. Strong as their father and fierce as their mother. Couldn’t ask for a better match.


Back in the castle everyone dreams of having a peek into, it’s all whispers in the bedroom and shouting in the forge. Neither of the two notice the whispering about them nor the shouting nor the pointing and staring. They’re too intent on whispering, shouting or staring at each other.

Marry me, Gendry whispers to her one crisp cool night in the godswood, just as winter is melting into spring. He has been watching her bathe in the hot springs beneath the weirwood trees. She has sidled up to him in the pool, and he has tears in his eyes because he’s sure he’s never seen anything or anyone half so beautiful as the woman who saved the world, who saved him.

Yes, Arya whispers too in the eyes of the old gods, the ones her father kept, the ones she keeps now, now that her god of death has finally given them all a long reprieve. The wind whispers too, softly through the branches and red leaves of the pale white trees. And he knows he’s done right by her after all, despite his doubts. Their kiss is a whisper, the soft brushing of lips against lips. And it’s a promise, one he intends to keep for as long as he draws breath.

Many moons later, he’s sliding her gray and white cloak off her shoulders and replacing it with the black and gold stag of the house of his father, the one he never met. Somehow, it seems wrong. He was never a stag; he’s a bull, through and through. More than her becoming a stag, it’s him becoming the wolf.

So he does the only thing he can think of to rectify his uneasiness. He pins the black and gold cloak over her shoulders, then holds the gray and white one out to her. And he doesn’t have to wonder if she’ll understand because it’s Arya, and she is as much a part of him now as he is of himself. He turns around so his back is to her and crouches down so he is at a height at which she can pin the cloak over his shoulders. He hears the whispers this time, of those gathered as witness. But he doesn’t care. Never did. Not when it came to doing whatever it took to make her happy.

When he turns back, she doesn’t wait for the official ceremony to end before she’s leaping into his arms and kissing him the same way she did after the last battle of the frozen war. The moment they’d reunited at the crest of a hill overlooking the bloodshed and gore. They’d been separated halfway through the battle, and neither had known if the other was still alive. Until that moment. The kiss was a battle in itself, a clashing of lips and teeth and tongue. A plea for confirmation of life. This kiss is much the same.

I take this man, Arya whispers after, once he’s released her from his grip. She’s faltered on the last word and by the tilt of her precious lips, he knows she’s almost said bull instead of man.

I take this woman, Gendry whispers back, and he’s struggled too. It would have been easier to say wolf instead of woman, and he knows Arya has noticed because she’s grinning madly up at him now. And Gendry wonders how he ever could have had doubts that this was always the right path.

It’s almost a year later when Arya finds him in the forge. He senses her before he sees her, but he doesn’t want to mess up all the hard work he’s put into the day, so as difficult as it is not to turn to look at his wife (wife – he relishes the word every time he thinks and says it), he finishes his task first.

She resists at first too, watching him only, but she always did have less willpower than him. Soon she is wrapping her arms around his middle and, hard work be damned, he drops the sword and takes her into his arms. There is a glow about her, something new, something different.

She is kissing his neck, his earlobe. He feels her lips against his ear next. At the same time, she’s taken his left hand from her waist and is moving it to her stomach.

Baby, Arya whispers, and it’s the first time in a long time he can remember his wife sounding so scared and so exhilarated all at the same time. Goosebumps rise up and down along Gendry’s arms, and he gives an involuntary shudder. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but the grin that steals automatically across his face, wide and unapologetic, is the best indication that this is the best news he’s ever gotten after the news years ago that Arya was alive and well in Braavos.

He’s clutching her to him now like she’s his only chance at life, which she, of course, is. And she’s clutching him too. This will be unlike any other battle they’ve ever faced, but like all the rest, they’ll face it together.

He’s kissing her face now. All over. From her forehead to her chin to her lovely cheekbones to her nose to her lips. It is more than he deserves, he knows, more than any man deserves. This woman who managed to give him life, who is now giving life to someone they’ve made together.

Ned or Cat, Gendry whispers. And he knows he’s said exactly the right thing because she’s the one kissing him now as she never has before. And he thinks hard on what his life would have been if he’d never met the little orphan boy Arry on the kingsroad with his quick fists and castle-forged sword. What a wretch he would have turned out to be. He kisses her with renewed fervor. He means to make himself as worthy of her and the life she gives him as possible but knows it will still never be enough.

Their child has his hair and eyes. That’s a certainty. But the way the boy wraps his tiny little fist tightly around Gendry’s finger is a perfect indication that the boy’s personality is all Arya, all wolf. It isn’t the easiest thing for Gendry to cry, but this is one of the times he can’t help it. The little family, newly up three from two, is laying in the large bed in Arya and Gendry’s chambers. The maester has already returned to his own. Sansa and Bran are gone too; it seems babies that aren’t yours aren’t as fascinating past the first few hours.

Arya’s fingers are lost in Gendry’s shaggy hair, and she’s crying too. They’re both just staring at the babe, everything it does a new wonder to the two of them. The boy blinks and they’re in awe. The boy yawns and they’ve never seen anything as mesmerizing. When the boy looks right back at them, they’re beaming and tearful all at the same time. In contrast, the baby seems as disinterested in them, as they’re engrossed with him. Until it’s feeding time anyway.

Finally he sleeps peacefully between them, and they’re still both staring. Once in a while, they meet each other’s gaze, and the one seems as shocked as the other that they made this. This beautiful shaggy black-haired boy with eyes the color of the sky just around dusk in the winter. The boy is quiet, not so fussy as some. And there’s something stern and noble about his brow already, and Gendry knows.

Ned, Arya whispers in confirmation minutes later.

Ned, Gendry whispers back with a satisfied nod.

They go through it twice more, but the beauty of it never ceases. Each time is as fascinating as the last, as they get to know their little ones.

Robb, they whisper to each other the next time. And, like the king for whom he is named, the boy seems as kind and austere and commanding.

Cat, they whisper next. And she’s got his hair and eyes like the first too, but even though an infant, Gendry can see she’ll take after the beauty and strength of her mother.

The little family of five lays in the same large bed, Ned now three, Robb two and Cat a newborn still. The babes are asleep, but Gendry and Arya are playing their game of staring into each other’s eyes and daring to see how much each can get across to the other that they love each other using only their eyes. But Gendry feels he always loses because his eyes aren’t half as expressive as her beautiful and stormy gray ones.

I love you, Gendry whispers, cheating. And she can’t help but smile. Because he always ends the game too soon.

I love you, Arya whispers breathily back. And he feels her breath on his cheek, and he’s fallen under her warm little spell again, and he’s reaching his neck carefully over a sleeping Cat to kiss his wife full on the mouth. Then he sits back and proudly eyes his perfect little family, all wolves and stags and bulls.

anonymous asked:

Could you give a few examples where Eren has displayed that he loves Mikasa prior Chapter 50? I was scrolling through your blog today :3

Gladly! Not all these moments are concrete ‘love’ so much as they are moments where Eren has displayed that he cares about Mikasa. Chapter 50 was the first real expression of love Eren had toward Mikasa, but there are plenty of other moments to look at for your Eremika feels.

1. The most obvious one to start with is chapter/episode 6. I’m not referring to when he actually saved her, but when he gave her his scarf and invited her into his family. If Eren hadn’t cared about her, even then, he wouldn’t have done that. Eren easily could have turned and left Mikasa to the care of the Military Police once her life was no longer in danger. But he didn’t. Giving her the scarf was wholly unnecessary and done out of kindness and concern, not obligation.

Then there’s the fact the Eren fucking blushed when he gave Mikasa the scarf, but that’s a commonly overlooked detail. It’s extremely difficult to see in the anime if you don’t have a bluray, but it’s clear as day in the manga.

2, Look at Eren’s face in this screenshot.

Here, Mikasa stopped a fight between Jean and Eren, and all she had to do was grab his hand and look at him. She didn’t have to say a word. Look at his face. That is pure shame. Clearly, he values her opinion of him

3. The court scene.

His face says it all. After this, there is literally no way anybody can look me in the eyes and tell me that Mikasa doesn’t mean the fucking world to Eren. When the judge mentions that he attacked Mikasa, Eren looks at her in desperation. His face is pure disbelief, as if he’s begging her to tell him that it’s not true, because he can’t believe that he would ever hurt her.

And that’s not even the end of this scene. After that, Mikasa gets dragged into Eren’s predicament and is accused of being a Titan. Then, for the first time since the trial started, Eren speaks out of turn to defend her. He made no attempt to defend himself against being called a monster, but the second Mikasa was put into danger, he completely loses his temper and gets into a screaming match with the civilians and the Military Police. Yeah. Don’t ever let someone tell you he doesn’t care about her after this. This is almost as potent as chapter 50, to be honest. 

Also, fun fact: Eren never snapped at Mikasa’s protectiveness again after this.

4. Again look at his face in this screenshot. There’s a lot of that in this post, but sometimes pictures speak louder than words.

Prior to this, Mikasa told Eren that she was glad he came back (from his Titan) and grabbed his hand. And that’s the look her gave her. I refuse to believe that he wasn’t aware of Mikasa’s feelings by that point in the series. I refuse it. It differs from chapter 50 because at that point, Eren didn’t realize why she loved him, but there’s no way in hell he didn’t know in that moment shown above. Just look at his face.

5. Again, look at his face.

To me, this is one of the most painful Eremika moments in the entire series. And, no, it’s not because Mikasa is my favorite character and almost died here. I can’t even imagine what would have happened to Eren if it wasn’t for Jean here. He might have been saved, even without Mikasa, but let’s think about this for a second. 

Remember that face he made when he accidentally scratched her? Remember how guilty he felt about Squad Levi dying? Imagine, if Mikasa had been eaten literally feet from him, while he was helpless to do anything to protect her, during an attempt to rescue him. That guilt would eat Eren alive. 


He loves her.


So, after my rant yesterday I received some anons…and tbh, I’m too lazy to answer them all. So, I took some screenshots and address them all in one post!

I am swen, yes….and I’m a person who uses this blog to address problematic themes, people & discrimination. 

And, no…I’m not picking any fights or stuff….I witnessed how CSers slandered and threatened an actual human being on twitter. 

I like Colin and I don’t mind the BTS of Jen & Him…I’d never go around and slander him or that I want to SHOOT him! 

Did I say every single CSer is like that? NO….Like I said awhile ago…if it doesn’t apply to you…fine! Great! Good! I’m proud of you! 

And no…I’m not comparing this fandom to trump, cause I ship SQ….I compare it, cause some you guys show the same behavior as he does!

Pictures actually speak louder than words….so here….

Ships aside…this is wrong!

Hollywood’s Forgotten Fairytale: Glinda the Good (Billie Burke) and Dorothy Gale (Judy Garland) wear dresses of pastel shades in one of the first and forever best technicolour scenes of movie history in ‘The Wizard Of Oz’. The fashion choices of this magical movie are often overlooked, but with Glinda’s billowing cotton candy pink embellished organza gown along with Dorothy’s simple sky blue gingham country girl overdress (and not to forget those ruby red slippers, not pictured) this conscious effort to portray each character down to the bows in braids, wicker picnic basket on arms, and shimmering stars on layers of fabric makes for a meticulously planned perfect image. You know the character before they say a word all through the outfits; this paints a truly powerful picture - one proving that fashion can often speak louder than words.


About the ‘Sheer Heart Attack’ photoshot (September 1974), Mick Rock explains: “Was different from the 'Queen II’ cover because the band were much clearer about what they wanted. They came to me with a specific brief: 'We want to look wasted and abandoned, like we’ve been marooned on a desert island’. It was their concept. They brought their own clothes. I got in sprays, glycerine and Vaseline, and we greased them up and then spritzed them. Down on the floor they went, and I just shot until I was done”.

According to Freddie Mercury: “God, the agony we went through to have these pictures taken, dear. Can you imagine trying to convince the others to cover themselves in Vaseline and then have a hose turned on them? Everyone was expecting some sort of cover - a 'Queen III’ cover, really - but this is completely new. It’s not that we’re changing alltogether; we’re still the same dandies we started out to be, we’re just showing people we’re not mereley a load of proofs, that we are capable of other things”.

Brian May says: “Yes, it was agony this session. But it was worth it. I think we wanted to explode our own myth. We didn’t want to be pretty any more. [Mick Rock’s] pictures speak louder than our words”.

The Big Q

When I look back and think about the past two years of my life, it’s hard for me to comprehend all the changes that have taken place. Thanks to the handy Time-Hop app, I am reminded that three years ago, a relationship was just beginning, two years ago I was in love with my best friend, the one I was planning to marry, and living in my own apartment. One year ago was our first day in the Dominican Republic for the second half of our outreach, and I was a couple weeks away from learning the boy I came close to marrying was in a new relationship. And today I am sitting back at YWAM Orlando for the third time.

Over the past few months, I’ve found myself asking a pretty big question and only getting one answer. I’ve been asking, pleading, and wondering why it seems like everyone else around me gets to be in relationships or getting engaged or is happily married. And why I couldn’t make a relationship stick if it was covered in velcro. And as I asked this question in the confinement of my car or to my bedroom walls at the end of the night, I only got one response. And it was that I wasn’t good enough to be in a relationship, I wasn’t good enough for anyone. There must be something wrong with me for no one to want to be with me. There’s someone way better for the ones that I wanted. I had already had my chances and I had messed them up so badly. And because I had messed things up so badly, I would have to watch other people live out my dreams with the people I wanted.

These are the lies I’ve been believing in and living out of for the past year and a half.

It’s so hard to watch hope die. It’s hard to have your hope be the size of a sandcastle and watch it deteriorate into grains of sand before your eyes. It’s hard to watch someone else live in that sandcastle.

This week’s teaching was on the fear of the Lord. Which seems like a daunting subject to teach on, since the fear of the Lord tends to be a pretty complex subject. But our teacher did an amazing job, and really emphasized that the fear of the Lord begins with a relationship with Him. Another thing that we really tackled this week was discovering what was getting in the way of being loved by God. And it was then that I began to realize that it was all of those lies I had been believing and living out of. And I also realized that by thinking those things I was breaking His heart.

So by Friday night, I knew that I just needed to spend some time with Jesus. I knew there might be some yelling and tears and rebuking, but what I didn’t expect was His gentle answer. I actually didn’t get an answer after all of my yelling and crying. I did feel a bit better after my Friday night lakeside date with God, but I still didn’t understand.

My answer came later that night, when I was still asking the big Q. Although I had just spent an hour alone with God, I was still frustrated. So, I asked one last time before leaving our open mic night and going to bed. This time, I got an answer. This time, it wasn’t from the enemy. This time, the answer I heard my Father answer me. And He said this:

“What if you believed that you’re not single because you’re not good enough, but because I want to spend a little more time with you? What if I want to spend a little more time with you and your heart before someone else comes into the picture?”

That voice is louder than the voice of the enemy. Those words are bigger than my frustration and my lack of understanding. And that is the new truth that I’m living in and out of. That’s the answer I choose to believe. That’s the person I want to be with right now, that’s the person that I want to get to know.

That doesn’t mean that my dreams and hopes are completely gone - I still would love to be in a relationship and I still want to be a momma one day, but I just need Jesus right now. And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean I’m missing out, or I’m behind in life, it just means that Jesus can have all of my heart instead of part of it. And I’m okay with that.

- 31Women (Emma)

some say pictures speak louder than words,
maybe that’s why I have issues painting a picture for you with my thoughts. 
is that why you don’t listen?
or is my picture not vibrant enough for your eyes?
—  submission #279