DEAR READER
Claire Keane
Cosmic Funnies
Love Begins
pixel skylines
★
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
trying on a metaphor
noise dept.
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Discoholic 🪩
Keni
we're not kids anymore.
Kaledo Art
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@divinitis
✧ divinitis is a dependent and private, multi-muse blog created for charmingrpg.
𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚.
i. adriano galeone — cartel hitman, 32. ( intro & muse. ) ii. ilona laurent — dancer at black widow, 29. ( intro & muse. ) iii. beatriz almeida — head of luxury cars operations, 36. ( intro & muse. )
the thing was ... cash didn't lose. he couldn't even accept a strategic loss, would never agree to let up on the gas for those betting the odds. yet, here the blond found himself, staring out into the horizon as though it held the answers while his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the demirci vehicle.
in his reverie cash nearly missed bea's approach and her words nearly incensed him, but the driver held his composure and glanced over at her offer with a steely blue gaze. "that's not when he had me," the blond countered, then shifted to angle toward her and eventually took the beer off her hands. but he didn't open it.
"i'd like to know who worked on this car," he stated, the bottom of the beer bottle tapped against the hood. "he had me when this engine started falling apart. the dashboard lit up like a fucking christmas tree." head shaking, almost in disbelief, but it was mostly due to the offense she hurled at him. cash had only slowed down because the car had begun losing power, stuttering and choking, but he wasn't saying that part out loud just yet because this had inside job written all over it.
She'd always known him to have a stubborn streak. Cash was arguably one of the best racers she'd ever come across, and his losses were few and far between — enough to make them harder to swallow every time. Beatriz had come to expect resistance from him, and she'd understood that conversations were a hard but necessary part of the defeat process. It didn't make it any easier to hold his intense gaze, his eyes burning with barely-contained rage, but the brunette obliged. ''I'll find out,'' she promised, but her easy disposition disappeared completely at the mention of his car. The Demirci team was careful and thorough, and many of them traded with suppliers only after she approved them. Learning that the engine had started to fall apart was a major blow to their organization. Deeper still, an uneasy sense of worry settled within, the idea that Cash might have been in danger sitting uncomfortably. ''Why didn't you say anything?'' Beatriz lost all pretense of being comforting company, springing up from the hood to whirl and face the man. ''That could have cost you your fucking life, Cash. If you suspect someone messed with your car, you wave the goddamn flag, and you come to me!''
josie waits until he’s finished talking before she moves again, sliding the last book back into place and letting her hand linger there for a second longer than it needs to. public records. at least that’s real. she doesn’t comment on his obvious annoyance or the way he seems to fill the aisle just by standing in it. instead, she shifts the cart around and glances toward the end of the row, already thinking through where that stuff is kept.
“those aren’t kept out here,” she says, voice level as she turns the cart around and starts back the way she came. “birth registers and census records are archived. different floor.” she doesn’t rush, but she doesn’t slow down for him either, setting a pace that assumes he’ll follow if he actually wants what he asked for. the quiet settles back in around them as they move, the sound of the cart wheels soft against the floor.
she slows near the end of the aisle and looks back at him once, brief and assessing, before steering toward the elevators. “i can point you there,” josie adds, already moving again, “but if you’re in a hurry, you’ll want to keep up. that section isn’t designed for browsing.”
The stranger turned on her heels, as if she had better things to do than stand around and entertain his queries. Adriano was used to commanding respect, with people bending over backwards to accommodate him more often than not. He suspected it had a lot to do with the gun he carried and a little from his allure, too, but the short woman had barely glanced at him before turning around, soft heels echoing in the empty, silent space. ''Of course they're not, that would be too easy,'' he grumbled, but followed when she moved. She set a rapid pace, pushing the cart forward while she spoke, and Adriano found himself trailing behind like a schoolboy, anxious not to lose sight of her in the endless rows of identical aisles. ''Whatever gets me out of here faster, lady.'' He gave her a sharp nod, though he smiled at her quip, the bossy tone both unfamiliar and amusing. ''I appreciate the help,'' the mercenary offered, filling in the silence though he wasn't sure why he felt the need to do so. Something about her urged him to soothe, to appear as non-threatening as someone like him could. ''I don't mind the company either. This place gives me the creeps.'' He immediately cringed as the admission left him, hoping for the first time that someone wouldn't take offence to his words.
it felt like nobody really understood what she was going through, other than her younger brother. even then, zehra had recognized that the two of them handled grief in different ways.
perfection is what had always been expected of her. she had to be the best, the smartest, the most cunning, the one who's not just ten but a hundred steps ahead of everyone else. zehra had always been prepared for anything to happen in this town, but this? she never expected this. not one atom in her body even entertained the idea of anyone in her family dying, let alone someone who wasn't even fully in the business.
a part of her just... gave up. shriveled and died along with the younger sister that she had to ship back to turkey to be buried like cargo. she hadn't been sleeping well because the lifeless body is the only thing she could picture out every time she closed her eyes, causing dark circles to form underneath hers.
she felt... fragile. even with all this power, this money, this influence, she couldn't protect her own flesh and blood, which in turn, makes her a failure.
zehra heard the door open, but she already knew that her people had let someone in she trusted, because she gave them strict orders to not be disturbed. of course it would be beatriz, and while zehra had felt no desire to actually get up, she couldn't stop herself from flinching, closing her eyes and sitting up once the room was flooded with unwelcomed light.
"what the fuck, b?!" zehra snapped, hands immediately shielding her eyes before she slowly opened them again, trying to get used to it. "i... don't know." she answered truthfully. if she was being completely honest with herself, it was easier to just stay inside and not have to talk to people. to deal with the paperwork instead.
"days i guess. three, at most." she said, resigned. she knew her friend well enough to know that today was her last day of moping inside her office, that beatriz wouldn't leave here without her. "oh, don't look at me like that." zehra sharply said, rolling her eyes. "i'm fine. it's fine. just waiting to hear back from the private investigator." she said, her voice turning low before she shook her head, almost like she was trying her best to snap herself out of the funk she had found herself in.
"what are you doing here?"
Beatriz had expected the reticence. She'd been ready to duck from flying objects aimed at her head, or insults that would get too personal, when Zehra would most certainly throw verbal jabs in an attempt to make her leave. The calm defeat that had taken over her friend made her heart squeeze in her chest, a heavy feeling of helplessness threatening to send her crashing against the chair opposite her. Her doom was a palpable, almost contagious thing. Zehra's sister had been too young. She couldn't imagine losing someone so close and, consequently, being thrown into a position of power, wielding an entire criminal organization basically overnight. ''I can tell,'' Bea wrinkled her nose in reply, opening the windows to let the breeze in. Tough love wasn't for everyone, but she knew by the crushed look in Zehra's eyes that it would be the only way to get her moving. ''Fine,'' she repeated with a snort, finally turning to face her. ''You're not fine, Z, and that's okay.'' Slumping on the chair before her, she got to opening two of the bottles before thrusting one towards her friend. ''I'm here to get you a little drunk so that you're more pliant when I try to get you out of here.'' She mimicked clicking the heavy bottles in cheers before bringing the expensive red to her lips and taking a long drink. ''And I'm here to make sure that you're not doing too badly. ''
MICHELLE RANDOLPH Julian Ungano photoshoot (November 2025)
Michele Morrone
Isis Valverde via instagram; └ “ Segundou e o dia ta LISTTO! 😎”
closed starter ✧ colson lake. ( @outlawoverture) location ✧ black widow.
''How much do you love my sister?'' The question was random, unprompted, and completely unjustified, seeing as Ilona had never heard anything about Colson that might have suggested otherwise. That didn't stop the blonde from eyeing him suspiciously, her eyes squinted in disdain as she watched him from across the table. The strip club was closed, and only a few of the staff remained for a last drink. Lola had gotten up to pee, which had proved the perfect opportunity for Ilona to question the man who'd taken up most of her sister's time. ''Like, would you donate an organ for her? Would you take a bullet? Would you tattoo her name on your bald head if she asked you to?'' she prodded. Knowing Lola, it was a very real possibility, and Ilona wanted to make sure Colson would give her baby sister nothing less than what she deserved.
closed starter ✧ rio delgado. ( @wickcdways) location ✧ black widow.
Ilona knew within seconds that it wouldn't be a normal dance. The man before her was sitting too straight, his eyes flicking everywhere but at her, his hands folded in his lap like he was afraid to touch the wrong thing. The raucous laughter coming from behind the curtain only seemed to confirm her theory, and she leaned into the seat with a teasing smile, making sure she didn't crowd him yet. ''Your friends are generous, booking you a private dance with a pretty girl,'' she remarked as her body began moving, lightly at first, her gaze attempting to catch his. ''Did you not want a dance?'' she asked, keeping some distance now in case the stranger had changed his mind. ''We can just talk for ten minutes and you can tell your friends you left with my number. Pretty sure the tall one paid already,'' Ilona added with a shrug.
closed starter ✧ cain guerrero. ( @anarchvsts ) location ✧ angel's.
"I think they're sending someone for me. " Very few were aware of the circumstances in which he'd joined the cartel. Adriano hadn't meant to throw it out so casually, over expensive spirits and the watchful eyes of Cain's security, but the hitman knew better than to stall. Cain hadn't gotten to where he was by avoiding sore subjects, and Adriano suspected that anything threatening his organization's members would be interpreted as an immediate threat to him. "I'm not sure when. I'm not even sure they're actually sending anyone.'' He attempted a shrug, but the tension in his shoulder betrayed him, an underlying sense of something nagging at him. "Italy's been too quiet. I haven't heard anything since I left, and now none of my contacts have anything to report." It went without saying that silence was rarely a good omen from the mafia. "Either they're sending someone to take me back, or…" he trailed, letting the possibility of his demise hang between them while he threw back the rest of his whiskey.
STARTER ── closed / josie & adriano ( @divinitis ) LOCATION ── charming library
josie is midway through reshelving a cart of returns when she ends up in the same aisle as him, the quiet broken only by the familiar sound of books sliding back into place. she moves on habit more than thought, scanning call numbers, adjusting a spine here and there. it’s only after a moment that she registers him, not because he’s doing anything wrong, but because he hasn’t quite blended into the space. he’s been in the library long enough to feel present, carrying a low edge of irritation that stands out once you know how to read it. she finishes placing a book where it belongs before finally turning her head to look at him, her expression neutral, posture relaxed but alert. when she speaks, her voice is low and clipped, meant for the narrow aisle and nothing beyond it. “if you’re looking for something specific,” she says, “i can point you in the right direction.”
Adriano couldn't imagine a worse place to be. The longer he spent perusing the aisles of the library, scanning dusty shelves with squinting eyes and mounting frustration, the more he added to the list of places he'd rather be. Staking out a hit on top of a building. Disassembling and cleaning every single piece of vintage artillery he owned. Sharpening his knives, checking on his ammo reserve, ordering new tools and torturing someone. Hell, maybe even sitting on the torture chair himself would be less difficult than finding what he was looking for. He was too busy cursing in Italian, a string of mumbled words about this not being on his contract, when he felt someone else's presence in the aisle beside him. He didn't bother looking up until she spoke, a soft but clipped tone that offered help but suggested wariness. He turned to face a short brunette pushing a cart of books, and a smile pulled at the corner of his lips at the picture, so very cliche of the place. ''If it helps me get out of here faster, then yes, please,'' he quipped, walking slowly towards her. ''I'm looking for public records? Perhaps some birth register or a recent census.''
closed starter ✧ cash valentine. ( @anarchvsts) location ✧ charming / race tracks.
It was a rare sight to see their side of the track this empty. Where bodies usually swarmed the team's vehicle, and cheers of celebration echoed over to where she watched from afar, Beatriz found that only Cash remained, leaning against the hood of his car. He seemed to be brooding in silence, his body slumped, as if his defeat was a tangible weight on his shoulders. It was somehow more jarring not to see his shock of blond hair peaking over a crowd of adoring fans, his usual harem having been sent away when he'd refused to celebrate despite his loss. Bea walked over to him, leaning gently over the hood and handing him one of the beers she'd brought in consolation. ''He had you by the first turn.'' It probably wasn't what he wanted to hear, but she wasn't one to give comforting falsities. ''Whoever worked on his car did a good job. We couldn't have predicted this, even if you hadn't slowed down on that second half.''
closed starter ✧ zehra demirci. ( @charmingcrime) location ✧ demircis's head office.
Beatriz didn't bother knocking, pushing open the door to the Demircis's head office with her hip, her hands filled with three different kinds of expensive wine. She didn't know what the customary tastes were when you were trying to drown your grief with alcohol, and she knew much less about Turkish traditions and what they recommended. Would Zehra have taken a vow of sobriety? What she found was worse than anticipated. Zehra was slumped over the desk, a pile of paperwork seemingly drowning her as she stared vacantly into the distance. She didn't even bother looking up at the intrusion, which made Bea all the more worried. An inattentive Demirci was a dead one, and she would be damned if she lost two in the span of a few months. "How long have you been here?" she asked the brunette, placing the bottles on what little space remained on the desk before she moved over to the windows, wrenching the curtains open to reveal the blinding afternoon sun. "God, it smells like the inside of a crypt in here, Zehra. Seriously, when was the last time you went outside?"
closed starter ✧ chelsea clayton. ( @outlawoverture ) location ✧ black widow.
"Stop moving," Ilona scolded over the top of Chelsea's head, nails raking over her scalp, parting neat sections of the other blonde's hair. Music blasted from the speakers, drowning out the rest of the girls scattered across the room in various states of undress. "French or Dutch? Queue de poisson?" "I heard one of your regulars is getting married," she began, catching Chelsea's eyes in the mirror as she took to braiding her hair. "I could have sworn he was in love with you," she shook her head, clicking her tongue. "You think he's serious about her? I mean, I saw the ring, and that thing's not even a pebble, but still. A ring's a ring, you know." She pondered over her own words for a beat, brows furrowing in concentration as she thought. "I would buy you a ring," she declared with a smile. "I'd make it a big rock. You wouldn't even be able to keep your hand up from the weight." Ilona wiggled in place, thoughts drifting off to precious gems and sparkly things.
only those closest to her, which wasn't many, knew lola's true passion. painting, art, and the diary-like expression of it. the problem with proverbial bleeding on canvas was the vulnerability that came along with it, and allowing other's to see insecurity and pain.
yes, it was fucked up that she found a love in being a peddler, and no she didn't exactly see any wrong in what she did. for the parisian blonde she'd found community and being needed. things that she'd lacked at the most fundamental stages and points in her life. the cartel loved, appreciated, and praised her. they protected her. and that was how such a dangerous organization had become fill-in parents and family.
the response from her older sister brought on an eye roll and lola barely choked back a scoff into her champagne glass before she sipped. "problem is maman needs to be careful. she'll have to be calculated in taking the whore out. if that disgusting man," referring to their father, "has any real feelings for this woman or abomination then she stands to lose ground with him."
since money had never been something she'd had to worry about or work for, massive wealth had been her birthright, lola was clueless why people fought so much over it and went to such great lengths for it. she'd then laughed at the matching blonde and cut a sly grin over at her sister. "i bet you maman is going to find a way to do that very thing now."
It was sick, the way they spoke about their parents. If anyone from high French society were to hear them, they would pass out from the filth they exchanged, how little regard they had for the people who'd birthed them. Ilona watched her sister from over the rim of her glass, brows furrowing as she listened. "Feelings?" The thought was so preposterous she couldn't even entertain it. "You think that man is capable of feeling anything beyond greed or the tug in his balls when they need emptying?" She scoffed, shaking her head at the other blonde. There were many great things their parents had achieved. They had exemplary careers, impeccable manners, and pristine reputations that carried the Laurent name far beyond what their offspring could ever manage. Feelings and emotions, on the other hand, were the one thing they'd never bothered with. Ilona often thought they'd have been closer if they were two names on a donor sheet rather than the people who were tasked with raising them. "You think she'll get jail time?" Ilona suddenly shot up from where she was slumped over her seat, champagne sloshing over the rim and spilling onto the table. A wide smile split her face, delighted at the thought. "Fuck, now I really hope she guts the bitch."
closed starter ✧ aylin demir. ( @gcspelbones ) location ✧ angel's bar.
“Another round of shots for the birthday giiiiirl,’’ Ilona slurred, her pitch so high she saw the man sitting on the bar stool beside her cringe as he shrugged away from her. Unphased by his reaction, the blonde waited not to patiently until four shots were lined up in front of her, a small bowl of lemon wedges and salt shoved towards her. The bartender disappeared before she could thank him, earning another uncaring shrug from Ilona as she balanced everything between her fingers, spilling all the way over to the table. She dropped everything on the table before Aylin with a satisfied grin, her eyes sparkling as she took in her friend. ‘’I have to start remembering when and where I tell people it’s your birthday,’’ she announced flippantly, dropping onto the booth seat opposite the brunette. “Pretty sure we told them that last month. I think he’s just being nice,” she confessed, gaze lifting over to the bartender who was shooting daggers at her from across the floor.
closed starter ✧ damiano moretti. ( @gcspelbones ) location ✧ charming, ca.
"That was the boss," Adriano drawled, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He looked into the distance, squinting under the glaring California sun as he stood up from where he was crouched. His target was speaking with a hooded figure, exchanging goods in a clear deal he had no business making, but the hitman wasn’t the one calling the shots, something he was more than satisfied with. Instead, he turned to Damiano, who looked at him expectantly. "Hit’s called off," he shrugged, dusting off the dirt from his pants, setting the safety on his gun before shrugging it back into his holster. "Too bad, really. Kinda wanted to blow that jerk’s face off," he shook his head, chin pointing to their mark, who was now disappearing into a warehouse. "Day off," he mocked with feigned cheer, watching the other. "What do you want to do?" he switched to Italian, lighting himself a cigarette and handing the pack to Damiano.
