A private roleplay blog associated with charmingrpg obsessed over and penned by B.
daniela carvalho > tattoo artist > 29 > sons of anarcy patched member > camila mendes
jake cooper > undercover fed > 43 > cartel lieutenant > jensen ackles

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@dcmxcles
A private roleplay blog associated with charmingrpg obsessed over and penned by B.
daniela carvalho > tattoo artist > 29 > sons of anarcy patched member > camila mendes
jake cooper > undercover fed > 43 > cartel lieutenant > jensen ackles
isn’t that LUELLA LANE? heard you’re working as OWNER OF WILLOW CREEK RANCH & EQUINE REHABILITATOR and have been here in charming for THEIR WHOLE LIFE you somehow remind me of HEAT RISING FROM FRESHLY BREWED COFFEE AT SUNRISE, DEW UPON THE GRASS, THE SCENT OF CHERRIES AND MENTHOLS & SCUFFED AND WORN COWBOY BOOTS, and i also heard you are AGAINST the crime in town. hope you’re keeping yourself safe!
Camila Mendes
Jensen Ackles at Family Business Beer Company, September 21, 2023 (x)
❤️🔥❤️🔥
HASSIE HARRISON by Owen Gould for Dangerous Animals Premiere (May 2025)
open @charmingstart location: ink and iron tattoo studio
"I'm about to order food, so you can sit here and sulk or eat with me." It's a non-negotiable. After four hours hunched over the back piece, if she didn't get some kind of food into her, the rest of the day was going to be some kind of hellish. For both her, and her client. "And honestly, I'm not giving you too much of a choice. You're looking a little pale." Cracking open a can of soda, she held another out for current company, "You pass out and I'm not responsible for who hears about it. No secrets here." A falsity in and of itself - the studio held many secrets for the club - but, very rarely did any of those in charming come for fresh ink, pass out - and ever live it down. "Come on, get up. Walk around. It'll help."
open / @charmingstart location: charming streets; late at night
The screech of tyres against the road broke the sound of the wind calling over the desert and as Jake swung from the drivers seat and slammed his door closed he took in the scene before him. "This better be good," called out across the bonnet of the car as he wove a beeline towards them. The shattered glass, another cars broken window, littered the road and what appeared to be the contents of a bag or handbag joined it in the street and though it'd yet to have brought too much of a crowd - there were certainly on lookers. "This your shit?"
﹒damiano & jake ( @dcmxcles ) ﹒the afterlife
the bass thrummed through his veins , a savage counterpoint to the alcohol already coating them , that seemed to drown each one . was it sacrilege , to celebrate one sin with another ? to let spirits coat his tongue and loosen his muscles , rather than dash the contents to the floor in some archaic ritual ?
the money had been well earned , and in true damiano moretti fashion , it had been well spent . the night was merely an added bonus to how he intended to spend his stolen few days of freedom , so to speak . with his roots so intricately entwined with the cartel's , there was no moment he could truly claim to be off duty .
even now , vision blurring at the edges , he knew he could still put a bullet between another man's eyes .
and yet , it was that very vision that betrayed him , at the sight of the lieutenant slinking through the crowd of swaying bodies , ones lost to the same music that continued to pulse through damiano's blood .
❝ is it my lucky night ? ❞ the words , drenched in that persistent italian accent , rose above the music and slithered across the narrowing space between them . ❝ how very favorable of you to answer my invitation . ❞
Swallowing his distaste, Jake pushed forth through the mix of people at the front door - any objection that came to light quickly falling apart upon recognition of who he was. A liar. He'd choke back the reality each and every time, knowing he was doing what had to be done. Hues adjusted slowly, the neon lights blinding and leaving hot spots beneath his eyelids before his sight settled. A menial grumble beneath his breath at the crowd ahead a concern of his almost instinctively. What devilish debauchery exchanged hands in the mess below? It forced an itch into his fingertips that he hadn't been able to scratch in years now. The need to do good - to stop devilry in its tracks. But it wasn't his concern; at least not right now. That lay with the italian, making his every effort to ensure everyone in the building knew where he was. Or perhaps, that was simply the draw the man held on him. It felt like sandpaper in his throat. Sandpaper and amber sweetness of the liquid Damiano downed. And he needed it, too desperately to ignore the invitation. "Better be my lucky night," Jake said lowly enough only for the other to hear as he reached out to snake the drink from his hand, finishing the drink off for him. He'd had enough - clearly. Dark hues sting the hitman with a knowing, and irate scowl, "You know I hate this place."
character ⸺ jake cooper / @dcmxcles location ⸺ back office in black widow
technically cain hadn't been born into the cartel, but he had been raised in it. all of his years were shaped by the movements, operation, players, and pulse of it. he was weaned into the life, cut his teeth on it. most would say his reign of leadership had been inevitable because no one really knew the bloody, beating heart of the cartel like he did.
more than that, cain had studied the opposition to lengths and degrees none had gone to before. he'd infiltrated federal law enforcement. went to their training camps, passed their assessments, learned their operations. though, rather than take a badge in the end, cain disappeared like smoke.
it didn't matter how long he knew someone, the former hitman watched everyone around him with an incredibly sharp, perceptive, intuitive scrutiny. and as they stood in the back room of the strip club eliseo had procured for the cartel, hands in his pockets, dark eyes on his lieutenant, he asked jake, "so what've you been up to lately?"
sometimes cain was unnervingly still. he had never been a man that could be moved by emotions, and he'd spent so long creeping through the shadows that it'd become second-nature. "what'chu workn' on?"
Shadows danced against the back wall of the closed room and without second thought, he could have pinpointed the cause of each and every one of them. Every room the cartel sought to stain, he could build an exact replica; name every person who'd stepped foot in any single one of them in the last eight months - but that didn't make him safe. Five years had brought him here, as close to the head of the cartel than any of them had ever made it without meeting a messy, bitter end. And he knew better than to jeopardize it by making stupid moves. The atmosphere of the room changed - but he didn't make to move. Only few people would enter without making themselves known, and even fewer would make little noise in doing so and when Cain's voice cut through the dull sound of the strip club beyond, it fell into place for him. The mask, the facade - the man Jake had become. "Trade route from the south," he shirks a look across his shoulder, taking note of the place the cartel leader had settled, "there's been talk of some kind of operation going down on the highway. Not us, but they're looking for something." No need to mention where he'd heard that information, but he'd ensured enough people outside of the feds knew about it - enough that it wouldn't be strange for him to know. Though he'd never met the man before finding his place within the cartel - Jake had been fed a plethora of information; whether it was good or not, it didn't matter. It told him enough. Outsmarting Cain - and the cartel, would be tedious. A fact that Jake could only hope he'd be on the winning side of - and not another body fed to the desert. He turned, then lent against the desk until he could look the other in the eye, "Just looking at options."
✧ 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱 ⸺ open ( @charmingstart ) 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ⸺ samcro's clubhouse
The bonfire cracked and popped in the makeshift ring at the far edge of SAMCRO’s lot, smoke drifting lazily toward the dark sky as laughter and low voices carried from the clubhouse. Colson stood a few feet back from the heat, leaning against his bike, boots planted easy on the gravel, kutte draped over his shoulders like it always was. The firelight warmed his face — sharp jaw, cropped sandy hair, blue eyes watching you with a faint, knowing glint. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling through his nose as you went off. A corner of his mouth twitched before he finally spoke, calm as ever. “You gonna catch fire with all that energy, or you just puttin’ on a show?”
Half empty bottle dangles from her fingertips, no longer as appetizing as it had been an hour ago. Tense words shared between her brother in the backrooms of the clubhouse still circling the forefront of her mind. Despite whatever was happening - the lines being drawn within the club, the carvalho siblings knew they'd accept whatever direction the club chose; even if they didn't quite agree with it. The things they'd already done to keep any kind of respect was damning enough. "Shut up, Lake," she murmurs, sipping on the warm beer to give her mouth something else to do than run. "Can't you find anyone else to stir up?"
Somewhere outside around the clubhouse.
OPEN TO ALL: @charmingstart
Like a sixth sense, or perhaps it was just Ramiro being a little overly protective of the piece of cake he had on his plate - he felt eyes on him before he heard the footsteps. The man briefly looked up, though more so favoring the food item then the company. "What? I don't need an excuse to eat a piece of cake. And no it's not my birthday - it was just on sale." Clearly clarifying beforehand as the cake did say Happy Birthday. It was marked on clearance and he was a sucker for a good deal, especially when his sweet tooth decided to pay him a visit.
"Hey, don't look at me like that, I've never judged you..." her lighthearted tone as much teasing as it was favorable towards Ramiro. After spending years in his shadow - as his employee at the studio, or at the clubhouse, she'd quickly learned to pick out his quirks. Even as she dipped her finger in the icing; she knew his proclivity for sweets. The dollop of icing disappeared in her mouth, the brunette plopping into the seat across from him, "That's fucking awful, miro...- its pure diabetes."
JENSEN ACKLES as MARK MEACHUM
COUNTDOWN E12: This is His Signature
camimendes: música press day in my hometown >>>
Jensen Ackles as Mark Meachum COUNTDOWN (2025) | 1.02 – “Dead Lots of Times”
Jensen Ackles | EW Cover Story, July 15, 2025 [x]
Camila Mendes ✨💖
CAMILA MENDES via Instagram "the new IT show is the new it-show 🎈 beyond proud of you all" (October 2025)