#whiteLED

[dead-by-durchfall]

So This

Jake Park cosmetic KEEP having its hair bugged, only during certain animations (being hooked for example) and I want, nay, need a recolor of that hair specifically just white

[goldngods]

mickey had managed to slip away the moment adam started going over the numbers of the last quarter, stephen’s attention turned entirely on him. it was a nifty little trick that adam seemed to pull off more easily every time, domineering stephen’s attention whenever it lingered on mickey for a little too long— it didn’t matter. mickey knew he would be the one to inherit everything, even if adam was the most logical option. he leaned against the recliner by the pool, the stars bright above his head, an oddly clear night for new york. “i know you’re there, kid.” mickey said, not bothering to look at james. the children — james, june and adam’s little sister that mickey could never remember the name of — had been pushed upstairs the moment the conversation steered toward the professional side, but mickey knew james wouldn’t stay away for long. he never did, when mickey was around. he finally looked then, offering the cigarette between his fingers with a lazy smile. “want a smoke?” // closed starter for @whitelics

[kalpforest]

Little ghost is finished! Im debating if i want to paint or stain or anything with it so for now, finished! (more photos under cut)

light wood is Rough to photograph.

[rjstyles]

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[wargcds]

closed starter for @whitelics .

hollowed. that’s how santiago felt during a job; a hollowed, souless version of his own self. what was his own self, anyways, if not a souless vessel for those in power ? a killing machine, nothing more than a pawn in someone’s twisted game. a part that suited him so well, nights like this made him feel like he was born to play it. “angel, right ? ” santiago asked, a nervous smile on his lips. his posture seemed demure in nature, like he was a little shy, perhaps uncertain. this was one of the things that made him excell in his field, after all. the acting of a spy, the handiness of a killer; no wonder his handlers would never let him go. “i’m ramón. we uhm, we talked on the phone yesterday.” he paused, stammered for a moment and then added: “i mentioned yuri spoke highly of your… uhm… services.”

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[goldngods]

santiago tapped his index finger to his nose. “you’re not very bright, if it took you so long to realize what’s happening here.” it wasn’t exactly a bounty, as that would’ve implied someone needed angel alive— it was an assassination, plain and simple. if santi wasn’t so intrigued, if céline wasn’t so greedy, he would’ve placed a bullet on angel’s head already: it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before, anyways. “wrong guy, yeah, sure thing.” it was against protocol, but santiago was so pissed he just wanted to freak the other guy out, perhaps get him to shut the fuck up for a while, so he pulled up angel’s file — his goddamned paper fucking file — from his backpack, making a show out of plucking angel’s headshot and throwing it on the ground between them, keeping the actual contents of the file away from angel's eyes. “that you, ain’t it? 6’2, brown hair dyed pink, scar on the back of the neck, skinny frame.” santi leaned back, ankles crossed in front of him, appearing far more nonchalant than he felt. “there’s some real interesting shit here too. paranoid delusions, memory loss. cats and gardening.” he snorted, throwing the file back onto the table, away from the other man’s eyes. “you’re already a major fucking headache, angelo.” that name wasn’t on the file, but santi remembered it from the first time they met. he remembered everything from that night. “who sent me is none of your concern right now. no no, right now, you should be concerned over the fact that i’m a goddamned killer, and you’re the poor bastard handcuffed to my radiator.”

"are you saying you have a bounty on my head?" angel actually laughed at that, though he'd much rather have screamed. it's not like he was law-abiding or without enemies— he could think of a few people off the top of his head who wouldn't mind seeing him dead, maybe even a couple who would've liked to do the deed themselves. but enough to send someone like this — an extremely skilled someone — to get him, dead or alive? it was absurd. "cause if that's what you're saying, then you have the wrong guy," angel said, though he was quickly losing hope that this lunatic would actually listen to him; clearly the guy was dead set on his own delusions. angel wondered what dr. archer would've made of him, or of the fact that angel was starting to believe maybe there hadn't been a mistake after all. regardless, the fact was that santiago had had ample opportunity to kill angel by now, and yet there he was, in one piece, with only a busted lip and the gnarly pain behind his eyes. santiago hadn't even touched him since they'd gotten there. "though, to be clear, if you don't let me go, i intend to be a major fucking headache," he said with a sharp grin that reopened the cut on his lip. "who sent you, anyway? cause i'm sure your boss won't appreciate you showing up with some random dude in your fuzzy pink handcuffs."

[endlich-allein]

"'Unsere Welt' Because we must never forget what makes the essence of life, sharing, emotions and fun, I do prefer this photo to my selfie with Till. Shooted on Weine Welt recording 🤘🖤🔥" © Cynthia Whitel

[surveillancevirtue]

Ugh. This little wretched, smelly thing is pissing me off. What do you mean whiteling? I am not a whiteling, I am a virtue.

[goldngods]

❝ if you want it, come get it. ❞ / santi + angel

“wanna make it a little more interesting?” a wild smile bloomed across santiago’s face. he closed the two steps of distance between them, nose barely brushing against angel’s. “run, little robot.” he taunted. “i’ll give you a thirty second head start, because i’m just that nice and then i’m going to catch you, because we both know i will.” santi tilted his head, his lips grazing the corner of angel’s mouth before he stepped back, once again placing the distance between them. he felt just a little insane, the adrenaline desire and frustration that had been bubbling inside him finally ready to burst. “and then i’ll get what i want.”

[artgate-blog]

Brett Whitele

portrait of Wendy

1984

[reshramlove1ob]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55104844/chapters/167291830

Chapter 12 🗣️

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