We're a crime/mafia roleplay set in the present-day Chicago.

After bombing the harbour, the new gang in town, Enigma, all but declared war on the most powerful family in the city, the Bianchi Family. Police struggled to capture the culprits and were well on their way to build a solid case against the Bianchi, but their hard work was set back once the police department was bombed. Now, the war between the two sides is more heated than ever, and the casualties only tend to grow.

UPDATE 10 - 05/2017 There's...something rumbling, or perhaps brewing, among the people of Chicago.

UPDATE 09 - 04/2017 May is almost here, and we've decided to say goodbye to April with a shiny mini event! Thank you Bishop for the amazing idea, and for everyone who's getting involved!

UPDATE 08 - 03/2017 March is here! A few layout modifications jumped out of nowhere, nobody panic! Spring cleaning is also over and as such, claims and canon roles have been opened as we cleared out the inactive. Stay tuned for IC and OOC news & announcements!

UPDATE 07 - 02/2017 February is the real MVP as we're welcoming so many new members and characters to Bloody Dice this month!! We love you all, already established members, new and returning! ♥

UPDATE 06 - 01/2017 January, you ugly thing. Regardless if you're buried in snow or melting under the sun, we wish you a great year ahead and may all your dreams come true! Good luck to everyone going back to school, work or hanging on trying to survive.

UPDATE 05 - 12/2016 It's almost 2017! We hope everyone had a great time these holidays! Security, please escort 2016 through the backdoor thank you.

UPDATE 04 - 11/2016 This month we welcome back everyone who returned from their busy period...while the site is getting ready for a holiday update! Stay tuned for an official announcement and get your holiday spirit out of the box ;D

UPDATE 03 - 10/2016 Halloween is here early! As many of you were craving a special something, we delivered! Put your mask on and sink your teeth in this new event and get wild! Have fun everyone <3

UPDATE 02 - 09/2016 Two months on Jcink and the board became home to 25+ members, 90+ characters and a ton of fun plots! Can't stop, won't stop. Looking forward to creating more fun memories and always meeting new people!

UPDATE 01 - 07/2016 After six months on ProBoards, we have moved to Jcink!

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welcome to bloody dice

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► most needed (ocs & canons): bianchi, chicago pd, enigma!
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Gif / Image: https://68.media.tumblr.com/05ab710c80ae8aff16ee3754ae4ec4dc/tumblr_nkd2abA9Z81tumnloo1_250.gif
Age: 25
Occupation: Informant/Escort/Dealer
Relationship: Single
Sexuality: Asexual
Application: http://bloodydice.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=2423&st=0&#entry8032
Alias: keats
Quote / Lyrics / Status: Won't you come out we can paint the town red?
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DANIEL ARGENT

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Mar 27 2017, 05:12 AM
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<h1>you've got everything to lose</h1>

<div id="char">

<div class="deets"> <center>BUT YOU'RE HUMAN TONIGHT</center>
<br/><span style="margin-bottom: 5px;">TAG // halsey + young god</span>
<span>NOTES // running, running, running</span>

<div class="cred"><a href="http://cttw.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=1139" title="don't remove this credit!">&hearts;</a></div> </div>

</div>

<div class="innards-1"> <p>
A foot, that was all. It was a single form of measurement, and not great by any means. A single foot is all that separated dreams from reality, bliss from hell, and peace from chaos. One foot was all it took and his life could be over in the blink of an eye. Life on the edge was where he could get lost. He didn’t need a harness or a safety net, and if he fell then there was only one person he could blame. Responsibility was a word associated with being an adult, a level of maturity achieved at a certain age or moment in time. But his responsibility was all his own, and he claimed it for himself. There was nothing to be said about his criminal ways. He lived in a dark world of secrets and phantoms that drew out their claws willing to take blood. This world was all his own.<p>
Daniel Argent was a man that liked to play with fire. He’d lost count in all the charges brought against him, and by some miracle it was never enough to hold him long. His place had been searched countless of times, but this didn’t stop the deals and games he had running behind the curtain. If only it could be drawn for all to see. The edge where he lived was a place of solitude, so close to death and despair. Chicago PD were waiting to nail him for his actions. Come out and play little fox. But of course when they did, they never found a single thing. Not even a shred of his dignity was lost on them.<p>
To understand what a foot meant in Daniel’s world, meant understanding how and where he lived. It was a flat with only one door. The bathroom of course, for human needs and all. But his life was composed of four brick walls and hardwood floors. Three large windows stretched the length of a single wall. It gave way to the streets below, a collection of abandoned cars, chain smokers, trash cans and litter that soared away in the cold night air. It carried the scent of the living, gasoline, sweat, food, smoke, and sometimes even death. He felt comfortable here, a place where he could go so easily undetected. What was he compared to the junkie on the street? Why, an innocent bystander of course.<p>
In the center of the room he had positioned a mattress on top of a wooden pallet. All the rage in every magazine now, but what some considered stylish, he considered conventional. He had dragged them up the entire six stories from the bins out front. Left abandoned. His bed was where he spent most of his time, staring at the crumbling brick. The mattress itself was devoured by limbs that stretched and curled within the blanket of snow. He had white sheets that had been ravished during the later night hours when nightmares plagued him. A repetitive and unforgiving force.<p>
On nights like these, Daniel would often find his way to the bathroom. A white, cold, and sterile environment that wouldn’t have been half bad if not for the single lightbulb that never settled. It was a frenzy of energy, flickering on an off so rapidly that it gave way to his hollow features which gave him life. And yet, not even here was there something to be found.<p>
Daniel hovered over his bed, every muscle twitching inside him. He was a restless fury not easily satisfied in moments such as these. This all changed with a single fluid movement. His body crashing against the wooden pallet, sweeping them away with a mild creaking sound, its skeleton not pleased with being disturbed. A crowbar had materialized in his hands. He kept it near the middle window, a form of protection. For Daniel it was a key. He stuck the end into the floorboard, and pried it up. An entire square section gave away, similar to that of a trap door. And there, only a foot below an alphabetized rainbow of pharmaceuticals.<p>
He rubbed his hand against his face over, and over again. In just mere seconds his mind had become lost among the white caps which separated each bottle and bags carefully wrapped and then placed. All of this a foot below.<p>
Smartly dressed in a suit, he dialed a number on his phone. He could feel his thumb press the call button as it rang out. There came a sudden click. Do you have it? There was a smile that crept up onto his lips as they spread. ”Why of course, it’s all here. Name a price and text me the details. I’ll be waiting.” It was done. All that was left now was to deliver. His progress was only halted when there was pounding on his door. Daniel nervously licked his lips, he hadn’t been expecting company, not here. As delicately and as quietly as he could, Daniel placed the square section back following by pushing the pallet in its original spot. It settled, happy to be back where it belonged. The pounding came again. “I’ll be there in a moment! His voice lifted enough to be heard just outside the door. And he strode over to it, turning the handle with ease.<p>


</p> </div>


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Mar 17 2017, 06:59 AM
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<div class="outside">

<h1>I KNOW YOU WANNA GO TO HEAVEN</h1>

<div id="char">

<div class="deets"> <center>BUT YOU'RE HUMAN TONIGHT</center>
<br/><span style="margin-bottom: 5px;">TAG // halsey + young god</span>
<span>NOTES // running, running, running</span>

<div class="cred"><a href="http://cttw.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=1139" title="don't remove this credit!">&hearts;</a></div> </div>

</div>

<div class="innards-1"> <p>In a dark window pane, a single candle flickered. While there wasn’t the hint of a breeze in the cold room, it swayed to its very own rhythmic beat. This candle danced alone, without so much as rain to accompany the soft glow. Only a reflection served as a companion, lonely as it may be. The melting wax formed pearl colored tears that raced down the sides, dying slowly. One day, there would be nothing left to burn, a concept Daniel knew well. <p>

He could light all the fires in the world, but someday they’d all be extinguished. How long would that be? Daniel pondered this question in the dark as he sat in the only chair he owned. Not a single light was turned on, causing shadows to fall upon his face. They created tormented shadows, twisted and curled, stretching out across his skin, hungry to devour the pockets of light the candle gave off. What would happen if they took over in that moment? Would he cease to be him? Would he turn into another shadow, fading away? It could be said that he was a tormented man, but in some ways he basked in the glory of that. At the end of the day, it was all he had. <p>

Air, he needed air. Needed to feel the powerful force of gust and wind lash out across his face. It was chilling and refreshing, and what he needed whenever he felt himself slipping from some edge. Curling his fingers around the familiar leather jacket, he eased it on as if the movement had been practiced at least a dozen times. And with one foot out the door he lingered on something dark and unknown but waiting for him all the same. There was a pressure in his lungs that greeted him, an urgent need to be satisfied once he found himself out in the open. Most would call it a fix, Daniel referred to as a part of life. His need to smoke, to taste the tobacco on his tongue was more than a fix. Well that was how he’d argue it anyways, not that he cared to much what nameless bodies around him thought. <p>

All they ever did was bump and collide into one another. A mess of broken hearts and bitterness. Didn’t they know how to relax and enjoy the ride? As he leaned his body up against the side of his building, he looked up as if to follow a trail of smoke that was absent. It was unfortunate that Daniel was without a lighter as well, at least it would’ve helped him to pass the time. <p>

His eyes fixated on the glow of one lone window just up above, his very own. The soft candlelight continued to burn on without faltering. He envied the push it gave back against its inevitable fate, if only he had the same willpower. As if he had willed it by the power of thought alone, a figure materialized before him. Daniel dragged his eyes away to catch hold of the prize he had been seeking. “You don’t mind if I bum one off you? It’s been awhile since I’ve had anything decent to smoke…” He let his words hang before him, delicately spoken in hopes of obtaining what he’d been after.
</p> </div>


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Mar 12 2017, 08:51 PM
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Daniel Argent

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<div class="head">basics</div>
<thing>full name:</thing> Daniel Louis Argent
<br>
<thing>nicknames/aliases:</thing> Danny
<br>
<thing>age:</thing> 25
<br>
<thing>date of birth:</thing> 15, 10
<br>
<thing>nationality:</thing> british/american
<br>
<thing>hometown:</thing> London
<br>
<thing>accent:</thing> American
<br>
<thing>gender:</thing> Male
<br>
<thing>pronouns:</thing>he, him, his
<br>
<thing>addictions / illnesses:</thing>Prescription Drugs, Hallucinogens
<br>
<thing>occupation:</thing> Informant/Dealer/Street Urchin/Escort
<br>
<thing>member group:</thing> Bianchi
<br>


<div class="head">appearance</div>

<thing>face claim:</thing> Ed Westwick
<br>
<thing>height:</thing> 6’2’’
<br>
<thing>build:</thing>Slim/Slender
<br>
<thing>hair color:</thing> Brown
<br>
<thing>eye color:</thing> Blue
<br>
<thing>tattoos:</thing> N/A
<br>
<thing>piercings:</thing> N/A
<br>
<thing>scars:</thing> A few thin scars on his back. One scar close to his abdomen

<div class="head">relationships</div>

<thing>sexual orientation:</thing> Asexual
<br>
<thing>romantic orientation:</thing>Asexual
<br>
<thing>parents:</thing> Monica Argent (d. 2002), Clive Barker 46 (unknown)
<br>
<thing>siblings:</thing> None that he knows of
<br>
<thing>children:</thing>N/A
<br>
<thing>other family/pets:</thing> Not anymore.
<br>
<thing>relationship status:</thing>Single

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<div class="head">freeform</div>
They say that no one is born evil, it’s something that is molded into you, something you can become. Whether or not this is true, it remains to be a mystery. However, if there was ever a soul on earth born evil, it may just have been Clive Barker. You could blame it on family history, if there was any to go by, the only problem was that Clive was a slippery and cautious man. He had never been an open book, instead he was a locked chest with buried secrets that could leave anyone baffled. There was something crooked about him though, even if it wasn’t apparent at first. Clive was the handsome type, one that made women go weak in the knees, his Accent thick with the roads and history of London. He had a way of making the women beg for more, to be the one to unravel him. Perhaps it was the reason he left London so long ago, to make his way to US soil, bored and in need of even more admiration from a different breed. Clive was the poison on the end of a dagger, waiting for the moment to strike his opponent down. <p>
The facts were these: <p>1. Clive came from old money, perhaps blood money. His wealth knew of no bounds. The man could go where he pleased and disappeared at will. A man with so much could’ve become anyone, but he liked keeping everyone on their toes, toying with the innocent minds of others. Highly educated, and gifted, Clive left nothing to chance. <p>
2. He liked to play dress up, even if it meant doing his homework. Not long after he moved to the states in his mid-twenties, he met Monica. She liked a man in uniform, a man with a pair of handcuffs and violent hands. Something he was all too willing to offer. Just like that, he turned the tables; Clive Barker became the black widow in this story.<p>
3. He liked games, the kind where he fed on the weaknesses and insecurities of others. Mostly that meant seducing women. Monica was his greatest challenge. She was broken from the day they met, a perfect and deadly match. Maybe it was the dark colored hair with streams of red that lit up in the sun. Or maybe it was how blue her eyes became when they were filled with tears. She was beautiful in a way that Clive wanted to destroy piece by piece. And if he was being honest, there was no one else on the planet that he wanted to shatter even more. Maybe he was bored with life, or maybe some part of him was damaged beyond repair. One thing was certain, he was a man of great cruelty, hidden beneath a well-worn suit and charming smile. <p>
4. Clive hated children. They were the bugs to be crushed beneath the soles of his feet, scraped against the ground. Somehow, this one cursed woman delivered. A small baby boy, grotesque and needy, the more it cried the more Clive pictured disposing of it somehow. Always an IT. Never a HE. In the city of NY, home by choice, those on the force congratulated him often, and he played along with smiles and false pride. But didn’t they see? He was gifted with a rat. <p>
Clive could’ve left his family anytime, and dreamed of it many times. For some reason he chose to stay, always waiting for the next best thing to come along<p>
Just remember what I said…. <p>
Have you ever lost a best friend? Maybe you have, maybe you haven’t. Let me tell you what it’s like. The world swallows you whole, and sure, there will be others, but no one that can take their place. They were the ones that were able to see the darkest parts of you, see the shadows lurking behind your eyes, and know that it wasn’t the monsters under your bed that you were afraid of, but the ones just outside your bedroom door. You loved them in a way you could never love a sibling, because they are more than that. They are the ones that will never fade away, <p>
And just like that, they’re gone. <p>
But for the sake of this moment, picture more than the loss of friend, picture that you have to be the one to kill them. I didn’t have to picture it it. I lived it. <p>
There was a man that lived, with my mom and, a man that was supposed to be my father. I never called him that, he told me if I did there would be hell to pay, and I always believed him. He was just a sickness that lingered in the house. He hated my crying, and we were never allowed to celebrate the holidays, or perhaps we were always afraid to. There was no telling what unpredictable stunt he would pull. But one year, my mom defied his wishes. She crawled out of her bedroom and gave me the present of a lifetime. A dog. A small yellow lab to be precise, and he didn’t cost a penny, it wouldn’t put the shadow out. He was a runt, free, no charge, she kept mumbling these words over and over. I should’ve known better, I should’ve hated her for giving me that dog, but instead I chose to love her. <p>
I didn’t realize how much I would come to regret it. <p>
We had a big a house you see, and so by some miracle I was able to hide him away. I had named him Hank. And Hank was everything to me. It may have been the first time I was happy, besides spending my hours at school. If Clive had given me anything, it was the ability to excel in my studies, even when my brain could never quite focus in the classroom. Teachers said I was gifted, that I could be moved up a grade. Clive would acknowledge this quietly with a smile and agree, only to unleash his wrath later. But Hank was something all new to me, he was mine. <p>
And then one day, he wasn’t. <p>
Hank had gotten out somehow, and a six month old puppy doesn’t quite understand boundaries. When I returned home from school, Clive had him tied to a tree in the backyard. I always try to think back to that tree. Was it a maple, a pine, or an oak? Or something else entirely? These details shouldn't have mattered, but they consumed me, still consume me. Was it rainy that day, or had I imagined the small droplets fall from the sky as if the clouds were crying with me? What I do remember, was how it was my fault, my punishment. I remember how heavy it felt in my hand, a revolver of some kind, one he had from work. I wanted to run, wanted to go find help, but how can you get help when the people who are supposed to protect you live under the same roof? I didn’t want to do it, but the bang sounded and wings fluttered up above me in an angry torrent. <p>
I will destroy everything you love. I remember those words , and the shovel being thrown at my body. I was a killer, and one of the worst kinds. <p>
My mom stopped meeting my gaze after that. She could hardly look at me before, and the space between us only grew. She was only a few doors away, and yet the shadow stood in our way. He brought on nightmares and games. It was an inescapable hell and I was only ten years old. Some nights I wished he would just kill me. It finally killed her after all, my mom. <p>
The greatest tragedy or a terrible accident
“She had severe depression, the love of my life, the spark that ignited my passion to chase after my dreams in law enforcement. I wanted to vanquish the darkness that plagued our streets, while she was busy fighting her own battles. She was a woman of great courage, and deeply loved by her friends and family. My son and I will not take this loss so easily. Which is why, together we will be opening a center together to help those in need, to prevent these terrible tragedies from occurring, from stealing away our loved ones…” <p>
I could’ve mouthed his speech word for word in my dreams. The echoes crashed against my mind, unwilling to let the cold silence slip in. I was only twelve when I heard it. And it would play on for days as the honorable and grieving father on the force. But no one could say the truth, they were all too afraid. And I wanted to scream it out loud, “she killed herself to escape you!” but I wouldn’t dare unless I wanted to meet a similar fate. So I did the only two things I could think of, broken down into two acts. <p>
Act 1:<p>
The streets are no longer familiar, but your legs work just the same. You keep dragging out the end of this story, because it is always the same. You are without a sword, and the dragon always finds you. Rage and wrath burning in a swirling flame that consumes. But you don’t go down without a fight. You’re mad, insane, losing it, that’s what they all say, an excuse created by the dragon himself to explain his sons inexcusable actions. But you will keep running, keep attempting, anything to get away. This game lasts three years, and in that time you develop a record. It’s the same game with a new twist, the runaway and the thief. Maybe they will lock you up, just maybe they will this time. But you are his son, and he keeps you from the bars of one cell only to lock you in another. The pain never ends, and now there are scars to prove it. And one night you stop crying. <p>
Suspicion would’ve been our friend, if only the dragon wasn’t held in such high regard, if only your sudden actions didn't give him more ammo. <p>
Act 2: <p>
16.<p>
You see the colors spill into the palm of your hand, some are white and slick, others are capped and multi-colored. They remind you of candy, the kind you were never able to buy, and suddenly the world is at your disposable. <p>
Spread the love, that becomes your new task, and the money rolls in. Grades slip, pills are passed, and you pop a few for yourself. Some days they are enough to get you through the nights, and other times they only dull your senses. But you can feel what it still out there, bobbing around, waiting to drag you back under the surface. Now you will do anything to feel fresh blows against your skin, you crave the horrors that night brings, only so you can have an excuse to slip away again, just like your future. <p>
Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.
There are glowing lights, I remember them like glistening angels in the night sky, But these carry a harsh reality to them. One flashes, and then a second. There becomes a steady rhythm. A ghost flashes before my eyes, the threat of leaving, the threat of retaliation. When did the world become so ugly? I finally won, but it’s met with jumbled thoughts. He’s gone, he vanished. No trail left behind except for me. Except for me and the knife that glittered with red crimson, and how beautiful it looked. My memory sparks to life and I remember my mom’s red hair, and I had to wonder, was she coming back for me? Faces push together, hovering over my journey of lights, and I want to beg them to move out of the way, but I’m only met with darkness. This was it. All of it was over, including my story. <p>
Can’t Pretend<p>
20’s in Chicago are a magical thing, especially when you’re of age. Sex, drinking, drugs, the buying and selling of information and all at a price. This was home. Money became my game, giving nothing else away in my process. I was a living shell of a man, and it suited me just fine.

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<div class="head">about</div>

Daniel is about as narcissistic as they come, he’s in love with the small empire he’s created for himself. He lives a life of crime and fun, and will do just about anything for a price. He’s picked up some charm along the way, and is suave with the best of them, but he won’t hesitate to turn his back. Betrayal is in his nature.

<div class="head">friends</div>

Daniel doesn’t have any friends, but he is a regular at several establishments. If anyone is trying to look him up, the best bet is to ask around as he tends to stay off the radar. His acquaintances know he seeks privacy, and only the best, and he pays them well to guard his better interests. After all, if Daniel wants to be found, he will make himself known to you. Even with a criminal record, he enjoys toying with the law enforcement, but they haven’t managed to catch him and his wily ways yet.

<div class="head">romance</div>

For a price, he can be your greatest lover, the one who holds you as you fall asleep in his arms. Just don’t be surprised if he’s gone by sunrise. As an escort, he prides himself in confidentiality, and will meet the needs of any client so long as they have the cash ready. And he does provide. He tends to stick away from regular customers except in special circumstances. Outside of his work, Daniel deals and plays in the realm of pharmaceuticals, and when desperate will occasionally lower his standards if it means helping him sleep at night. But let’s get one thing straight, love does not exist, it’s merely a role to satisfy inner desires. Daniel will not and does not date, isn’t a romantic, and will never be there when you need him the most.

<div class="head">enemies</div>

The world. Daniel plays a game and the world is one giant pawn, the people and everything inside it are disposable. He hates any form of authority, and in his younger years was arrested several times with assault charges. He knows how to put up a good fight, but tries to curb himself when he can.
<div class="head">other</div>

To be added in the future…
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<div class="head">keatss</div>
<thing>nicknames:</thing> keats
<br>
<thing>age:</thing> 20+
<br>
<thing>pronouns:</thing> she, her, hers
<br>
<thing>timezone:</thing> pacific
<br>
<thing>contact:</thing> pm
<br>
<thing>rp experience:</thing> very long, just getting back into it after a break
<br>
<thing>how you found us:</thing> cttw
<br>
<thing>other characters:</thing> not yet;)
<p>
<thing>about:</thing> -
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25. Informant/Escort. Bianchi. Ed Westwick
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<a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=11594">thanks♥︎</a>
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