her face looks so white


I remember when she was this age (5) and thinking she was old. GSDs are seniors at 7, and I felt like she was aging too fast. I thought her face was so white. She started greying at 2 and eventually almost her whole face would turn white. Looking back on it now, she was so young and fit at 5. She was in the prime of her life. People would ask me if she was a puppy (probably mostly because she was so small) up until she was about 11. I had no idea how long she would live, and how well she would do up till she hit 14. It was unbelievable, really. 

      here  is  a  daily  reminder  that  camila  mendes  is  a  woman  of  color,  latina  and  brazilian,  and  proudly  so.  therefore,  having  her  face  look  white  as  a  paper  is  whitewashing.  i  know  riverdale  is  hell  to  color,  but  it  is  not  okay  to  whitewash  her  (  or  anyone  for  all  that  matters  ).  i  have  seen  several  edits  on  the  tags  whitewashing  camila  and  this  is  not  okay.


every snowing kiss | 13/?

Whouffaldi AU // The White Raven

In some universe, a rebellious human time traveller Clara Oswald has gone and gotten herself into a sleazy deal, with a choronolock tattooed right at the back of her neck. So she travels around avoiding each and every raven or bird she sees. Although, I must point out that hers is no ordinary chronolock, as it is the one connected to the white Quantum Shade, The White Raven, who is no ordinary bird. He is very humanoid and always under “deep cover” with his wings that are invisible to others. But then, Clara Oswald too is no ordinary girl either, she is the impossible girl. So, as the chronolock counts down and the White Raven prepares to collect his soul, he starts to find himself, for once, unwilling to do what he has to.  

Say, Anne, did you know that Gilbert Blythe is dying?“ Anne stood quite silent and motionless, looking at Davy. Her face had gone so white that Marilla thought she was going to faint.

"Davy, hold your tongue,” said Mrs. Rachel angrily. “Anne, don’t look like that – DON’T LOOK LIKE THAT! We didn’t mean to tell you so suddenly.”

“Is – it – true?” asked Anne in a voice that was not hers.

“Gilbert is very ill,” said Mrs. Lynde gravely. “He took down with typhoid fever just after you left for Echo Lodge. Did you never hear of it?”

“No,” said that unknown voice.

“It was a very bad case from the start. The doctor said he’d been terribly run down. They’ve a trained nurse and everything’s been done. DON’T look like that, Anne. While there’s life there’s hope.”

“Mr. Harrison was here this evening and he said they had no hope of him,” reiterated Davy.

Marilla, looking old and worn and tired, got up and marched Davy grimly out of the kitchen.

“Oh, DON’T look so, dear,” said Mrs. Rachel, putting her kind old arms about the pallid girl. “I haven’t given up hope, indeed I haven’t. He’s got the Blythe constitution in his favour, that’s what.

—  Anne of the Island ‘The Book of Revelation’

When I was young, the neighbor kids liked to dig holes in the woods at night. My parents weren’t too keen on the whole “parenting” thing, so I’d usually get to stay up and watch them. I’d watch them from the bushes, but I’d never confront them. I had an inkling that they knew they were being watched as they were always so paranoid when they went through with their night ritual. Rather than dead bodies, they’d fill their holes with shards of glass, dishes, and other objects that you could easily shatter that they brought along with them in a huge sack. They always had so much. Once their holes were full they’d run off. I would too as the vibe of the area became oppressive once their ritual ended.

Unlike most kids, I liked getting up extra early in the morning, even on school days. It gave me more time to play outside. I’d run to the sacred area where the neighbor kids dug their holes. The sacred area would be flocked by crows. I liked running at them and scaring them off. They never flew away when I did, they just hopped really fast. I thought it looked funny. The holes would always be empty. I got it into my little kid mind that the shards had biodegraded over night. Later, I rationalized that someone would clean out the holes. Now, I think the crows took the shards. Maybe the crows ate the shards and it messed up their insides and that’s why they hopped instead of flew. Maybe that’s why they sounded like they did too. I don’t really know. I liked to jump into the holes and climb back out. They made a hollow, metallic thunk sound when I hit the bottom. I thought it was weird, but cool. When I got home from school, I’d visit the area again and play alone there. The holes would be filled, but the crows would sit at the edges of the sacred area and watch me play. I felt like they were my audience.

One day, my mother’s favorite dishes disappeared from the pantry. She was only a little irritated at first, but as time went on she became furious over it. She blamed me. My father uncharacteristically decided he needed to defend me. The dishes were there when I left for school, so I couldn’t have done anything to them was his argument. My parents, being the way they are, got into a passionately aggressive shouting match over this. They got into shouting matches often, but rarely was it over me. I felt guilty. I left my house for the sacred area and I just sat there alone. The crows were there. There were much more than I had ever noticed before. They were in the trees and circled around the sacred area. I think I even stepped on a few on my way there.

The neighbor kids showed up after some time with their sack of shards, their shovels, and another empty sack. Neither of them looked happy. In fact, they looked terrified. I didn’t know what to say to them, so I continued to sit there, probably looking depressed. One of the kids raised their shovel above me and whacked me straight on the face. It hurt, of course. I think she broke my nose. I screamed, and I cried. I tried to run away, but the crows flocked all over me. They were cawing, something they had never done before. It sounded like they were screaming, crying, and maybe laughing. I had a weird thought, probably because I was child who was just struck on the face by a shovel, but I thought they sounded “alive”. The kids restrained me and forced me into their empty sack. They were stronger than you’d think.

I think they were trying to tie my legs together, but I kept struggling. They began whacking me with what I assume were their shovels. It definitely felt like it, and what else would they whack me with? You’d be surprised by how many hits from shovels a little kid could take. I kept screaming and one of them kept yelling at me to shut the fuck up. I did, out of pain and exhaustion rather than my own volition. I stopped moving. The crows didn’t sound happy, and the neighbor kids said some things that I think indicated that they had went too far. They must have thought I was dead. I heard a hollow, metallic thunk when I hit the bottom of the hole they dropped me into, followed the feeling and sound of being covered in thousands of shards.

The crows’ cawing seemed to come together in one guttural sound. It was like someone clearing their throat, but once again the only way I can really describe it is that it sounded like it was “alive”. I was pulled from the sack and through the shards, which sliced into my skin and got into my mouth. I was being pulled into the air. Below me, I could see the sacred area, awash in crows. I wondered if I was being abducted by aliens, or being taken to heaven. The next thing I remember was waking up in a hospital bed. My parents and grandmother were there. For the record, my grandmother had died earlier that year. The room was so white, and the look on her face was gentle. The bed was covered in crow feathers and shards. She wiped them off in a single motion and gave me a kiss on the forehead. I don’t remember anything about my stay in the hospital after that.

I was out of school and stuck in my room for a month afterwards. My bed was sat in front of a window. Every so often, a crow would fly straight into it. I’d go into a panic every time and scream for my parents. They’d tell there was nothing wrong and that it just happens sometimes. Eventually, they stopped coming in my room when I complained altogether. I’d have nightmares. They were never detailed, just plates breaking and memories of myself playing in the sacred area that I had intruded into. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, afraid for a bit, but it’d fade into pure guilt and misery. I was being shamed.

We moved far away from my old home shortly after the incident. The crows still flew into any window I was near. I’d still go into a panic when it happened. The worst was in high school. I was in calc, barely paying attention when they decided to fly into the window right next to me by the dozens. I had the worst panic attack in my life afterwords. The crows don’t bother me much anymore, but the trauma still lingers. You don’t ever really get over stuff like that, especially when it happens at such a young age. Yesterday a crow flew into my window. I felt guilty for a moment, but it quickly passed. It has been more than a decade and half since that incident. I’ve mostly moved on, but they still hold a grudge. It’s kind of pathetic.

NOTE: A version of  this story is also on r/nosleep because I wrote it and put it there.

A Blast from the Past

A/N: So i write again! This idea have been bugging me for a while so I had to write it down, and the blonde thing, I just have to put that in here. oh, and I have an ‘ask’ button on my page now, I’d love to get some reviews for my writing, that keeps me going.


It’s in Spencer Reid’s POV

We, me and Morgan, were in a hospital, we were going to interview the only living victim from our latest case. I introduced myself to the doctor, “My name is Dr.—“ I stopped, she seemed really familiar, “(y/n)?”

“What? No, my name is Dr. (y/n) and your name should be Dr. Spencer Reid,” she chuckled.

I threw my arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, “Oh God, I’ve missed you, (y/n),” I kissed the top of her head.

I didn’t want to let go of her but, “Hey, Kid, the hell is goin’ on here?” Morgan interrupted.

I pulled back from the hug, laughing, “Sorry. Morgan, this is (y/n), my friend—“

“Only,” she winked, “At least until you got the entire basketball team to worship you,”

“My only friend in high school. (y/n), this is Derek Morgan, my co-worker,”

“What? I don’t know Pretty Boy got a hot friend, why didn’t you introduce us sooner, Reid?” he mused and shook her hand.

“Pretty Boy, huh?” she gave me an amused look, “Well, I can’t say I disagree, you are pretty, but I can’t say the same for your hair, though,”

“Well, if I know I would be seeing you today, I would’ve gotten a haircut yesterday. And I’d love to introduce you guys sooner, but she disappear three years, six month, and seventeen days after we graduate, so I can’t actually do that. And she wasn’t even—” that hot. Is ‘hot’ even the right term to describe her? I felt my face getting hot and I could see Morgan laughing.

“Alright, I’m sure you two gentlemen are not here to get to know me. So, how can I help you?” she saved me from being Morgan laughingstock.

There are some questions I’d like to ask her but she was right, we’re here to work, “We’d like to see James Miller, he’s supposedly admitted here—“

“Eighteen hours ago, yeah, skull fracture, concussion, broken ribs, possible retrograde-amnesia. Longest surgery I’ve ever went on. Hell, whatever happened to that guy, I wish he’s got the amnesia or else he has to deal with PTSD and that’s not fun. He’s in room 427, you guys can go there, I have to check on my other patients,” she bid her goodbye and left us there.


An hour later we were already back in the precinct. Reported back to the team what we found from the victim, which is nothing, (y/n) was right, James miller got an amnesia from the torture he’d endured. (y/n). God, how I’ve missed her. She was the one who kept me sane in high school. Twelve years I never heard from her. After we graduated high school, we kept our line of communication, we call each other, we send letters, we meet up in parks whenever we were back in Vegas on our college breaks. And then out of nowhere the calls stopped, the letters never came to my hands, no more—

“…. Reid? You heard me?” I heard Hotch voice from afar.

“Spence, you’re okay?” JJ piped up.

“What? I—uh, yeah, I, I’m okay, sorry I zoned out. What did you say?”

“I want you to work on the geographical profile,” Hotch said.

“Reid, you sure you’re okay? You seem different, what happen at the hospital?” Emily turned her head from me to Morgan.

“Pretty Boy got himself a girl, a hot one I might add,”  Morgan grinned from ear to ear.

“WHAT?” Emily and JJ spoke in unison.

“I know you got that in you, Kid,” Rossi chuckled.

“Oh my god, Reid got a girl. What’s her name, Boy Wonder, I have to check on her background, to make sure she isn’t a serial killer or something,” Garcia giggled, I didn’t even know Garcia was listening over the phone.

“I’m fine. She’s not my girlfriend, and don’t look for her information, Garcia, she’s not a serial killer,”  I left and asked an officer to give me a state-wide map and worked on the geographical profile.


“Garcia, pull out the names of male in his late thirties to mid forties, who owns silver sedan,”

“It’s still a long list, Boss. How do I narrow it down?”

“Narrow it to people who live within two miles radius from the park where all the bodies were found,” I added.

“Reid, hey! I’ve checked all women who works at that hospital and this far no one has suspicious background, I can dig deeper if you just give me her name, because my Chocolate Thunder won’t even—“

“Garcia,” Hotch interrupted, thank God, she could go all day if he didn’t stop her.

“Right, I’m sorry, Sir. So I’ve narrowed it down and I got two names who fit your profile, Adam Harris and Joe Robinson. Before you ask, the addresses already in your phones,”

“Thanks, Garcia. Dave, you take Reid and JJ to the first house, the rest we’ll go to the second,” Hotch said as he put on his bulletproof vest

The ride to the address was quiet, we got a call from Morgan telling us they’re heading to our address as well, they went to the second address and it was clear, the house was empty, looked like no one lived there in the past month.

When we entered the house, we knew we got the right house, we were in the unsub’s house. The house was a mess. There were some blood spatter on the floor and walls. “Adam Harris, FBI,” Rossi stated, “We know you’re angry at Ronald Parker because your wife left you and chose him over you. But killing people who look like him won’t do you any good. If you give yourself up we’ll go easy on you,”

“And what’s in that for me, anyway? I’ve already killed those men, giving up or not I’ll go to jail anyway,” there he was, the unsub, he’s got a gun. And then I found myself laying on the ground. I felt cold. That’s when I realized I got shot. Right above my bulletproof vest.

“Spence! Spencer! Look at me, open your eyes,” JJ came into view and mumbled. Why was she mumbling?

“We got an agent down, we need medic,” I heard Rossi’s voice. Why did he sound so far away? 

Then everything went dark.


I opened my eyes slightly, blinded by the lights, I closed my eyes again. I was in a hospital. “Spence, you’re awake?” JJ’s voice, I nodded. “Good. I’ll get the doctor,” I saw the rest of my team sitting across the room, eating takeouts.

JJ came back with the doctor, (y/n), a few minutes later, “Hello again, Doctor Reid,” she mused. I returned her greetings and didn’t say anything. We spent a good few minutes in silence when she checked on my vitals. I could feel eyes on me, my team’s, but I didn’t mind. I took time to look at her face.

“So where is your white hair?” I touched her now-brown hair, brushed it away from her face. She was done checking my vitals. She told me I could leave in a few hours.

“It was platinum blonde, duh,” she laughed, “And I still am a blondie, just not at work. Why? You have a ‘thing’ for blondie now?” I flushed. Now that I think about it, maybe I do have a ‘thing’ for women with blonde hair, all of my past crushes were blonde, not that there were many, but Lila Archer, JJ, Ashley Seaver all have blonde hair. Maeve had red hair, yes, but I didn’t know that when I got closer to her, and I was interested in her mind I didn’t even think about her appearance. “Oh my God, you are! You’re blushing!” (y/n)’s voice startled me, “I was joking but you actually have a ‘thing’ for blondie,” she bursted out laughing with my team as well.

“Hilarious, (y/n),” I tried to mask my embarassment by trying to sound stern, and failed, stern didn’t fit me.

“Sorry, but, let me ask you this, did you really missed me that much so you decided to be my patient?”

“You make it sounds like I got shot on purpose, (y/n),”

“Reid, you’re not gonna introduce us to your girl?” Emily spoke.

“Oh, like Morgan didn’t just tell you what happen yesterday when we met (y/n),” I mused, “This is (y/n), my high school friend. (y/n), these are my co-worker, my team, you’ve met Morgan and JJ, Jennifer Jareau, I mean, the rest is Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, and Aaron Hotchner,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you guys, and David Rossi, I read all of your books, you’re a great writer, you should write more,” she smiled.

After a few minutes of getting to know each other—my team basically bombarded (y/n) with questions—they said goodbye and went to the hotel, left me in the hospital with (y/n). “So, what do you say we get dinner together?” I asked her.

“I usually don’t take my patient’s offer,”

“Then discharge me, so I’m no longer your patient, please?” she didn’t say anything, so I tried again, “I’ll get a haircut,” I put on my hopeful face.

“Then I’ll be a blondie,” she replied with a smile.

I’ve never been so eager to get a haircut before.

The Sun Came Out- chapter 1

Daryl found himself watching more of her than the movie, especially when about a quarter of the way through she handed him a large pillow and they laid down on their backs side by side like they always did, Beth inching unconsciously closer as the movie grew more and more intense. Normally he hated being this close to other people but after months of Friday night movie nights he’d grown used to having Beth nearby, the blue glow of the TV making her hair look white and her face so easy to read that he actually found it more entertaining to watch her rather than the movie.