mddlbro

[mddlbro]

x

Deidara sauntered into Sasori's workshop, his trademark smirk in place, eyes glinting with mischief as he surveyed the dimly lit space. "Sleeping on the job now, are we? Not very wise of you, hm," he teased, his voice dripping with that familiar arrogance. As he drew closer, he noticed the eerie stillness in the air, the soft rise and fall of Sasori's chest revealing that, to his surprise, the notorious Scorpio was actually asleep. For a moment, Deidara's grin faltered, the shock of it almost throwing him off guard. Interesting, he mused, a low chuckle escaping him. Sasori, the unflappable, the intimidating, could actually look... peaceful?

Deidara's fingers twitched at the thought, his curiosity piqued. He leaned casually against the counter, propping his head up with one hand, blue eyes fixed on the slumbering form of his partner. He knew this was a rare opportunity—a glimpse behind the mask of the cold, ruthless man. Yet, as he studied Sasori, something shifted within him. A flicker of fascination surfaced, only for him to quickly squash it with a wave of disdain.

Tilting his head, Deidara’s gaze intensified, studying Sasori's face with an unsettling focus. "You awake, Danna?" he asked, his voice cutting through the silence, but there was no answer. The quiet stretched on, and Deidara's eyes narrowed as they lingered on Sasori's exposed neck. How easy would it be to— A wicked grin flashed across his face, but just as quickly, he dismissed the thought. Instead, his hand drifted toward the red hair, fingers grazing the strands in a near imperceptible touch—an almost tender caress.

"How lame," he muttered under his breath. "Letting your guard down like that, hm..." With a scoff, he turned away. Yet, as he walked, the image of Sasori's rare, peaceful expression clung to his mind. What a ridiculous sight, he thought, but the lingering impression was hard to shake.

[mddlbro]

Deidara and his crew pushed through the grimy, narrow alleyways, the neon lights flickering above as they made their way to the meeting point. He didn't care much for this shady business or the figures involved—all he cared about was proving that his art was the greatest, and no one, no one, could argue that. His fingers twitched restlessly, the need to create something explosive bubbling up inside him. The warehouse loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, and Deidara's mind raced with the possibilities. Hm, wonder what kind of art I'll have to deal with here... He had heard whispers about a big job involving someone with power—someone who could make a real difference in the underground—but all that mattered to him was showing them what true art looked like.

They stepped into the dimly lit warehouse, blue eyes immediately locked onto the figure at the table. Huh, what's this? A kid? His lips curled into a sneer as he scoffed aloud, not even trying to hide his disdain. "Is this the kid who hired us? Ain't he a little young for the job?" His grunts immediately stiffened, exchanging uneasy glances, recognizing the figure before them. "Watch your mouth, Deidara!" one of them hissed, sweating bullets. "That's no kid. That's the guy who hired us! Sasori the M.C. Scorpio! You should know that, he's a big name." Deidara's eyes widened just slightly, but his pride kept him from showing it.

Scorpio, huh? Deidara clicked his tongue in frustration, his curiosity piqued but laced with skepticism. "So you're Sasori, huh? A puny thing like you has the power to hire me? Must be something... interesting about you then." He couldn't help but challenge the air around him, his voice dripping with both disbelief and a thirst to see just how much of a threat this so-called "artist" really was. "Sorry, Sasori," one of the grunts muttered nervously. "Kids new." Deidara huffed, rolling his eyes. "New or not, you better start talking 'bout why I'm here, yeah?"

"Don't waste my time."

[mddlbro]

Dice grabbed the bags from the door, his mind still reeling from Ramuda's words. 'I love you, huh?' The phrase echoed in his mind, each repetition stirring something deep within him. He couldn't quite understand it, but it felt like he was standing on the edge of something dangerous—something that could unravel everything they'd built together. Ramuda had said it casually, his usual lighthearted tone suggesting nothing more than a friendly affection, yet to Dice, it felt like more—a realization that left him feeling confused and uncertain. He tried to shake off the unsettling thoughts as he stepped into the apartment, forcing himself to focus on the present.

The scent of the takeout pulled him back to reality, and he moved toward the couch, his steps now more purposeful. Ramuda looked drained, almost fragile, his usual spark dimmed. Dice's expression softened, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Hey, don't give me that look. You're not gonna guilt-trip me, are you?" he teased lightly as he set the food down on the coffee table. "Just kiddin'. Though, you don't have to look so down, man. Obviously I'mma help you out, no worries." Dice carefully helped Ramuda back onto the couch, making sure he was settled comfortably before focusing on preparing the okayu. "I know you've been handling this on your own. I get it—it's hard to show vulnerability sometimes, but it's okay to ask for help," he murmured softly, a slight ache in his voice.

Once the meal was ready, Dice sat next to Ramuda, grabbing a plastic spoon. He dipped it into the bowl, softly blowing on the porridge before offering it to Ramuda with a gentle smile. "Take your time, alright? Let me know if it's too hot."

''Eh? It's cause I love you, and I wanna make sure you know it. You and Gentaro should be used to it by now, right?''

It was sadly still one of his worse habits, throwing the word love around so easily. The kisses of course he thought were something that could be shared platonically too, and no one had ever bothered to correct him. But love was something he threw around as a way to protect himself, knowing fully well that he wasn't deserving of actual love. Why should a fake get it, when so many others still craved it?

When Dice got up to get their food, he just grabbed a nearby pillow to hug in the meantime. Though now that his mind had some time to properly process things, the exhaustion from the breakdown only hit him even harder. His entire body feeling weighed down, all that pain felt so clearly, he hated it. It was one of those times where usually he'd drink himself blackout drunk, but he didn't want to do that with Dice around. Not when he didn't know how he acted when wasted, not wanting to risk letting out more of his true feelings than really needed.

Just letting out a small sigh, he slowly let his eyes wander back over to Dice. Having to fight back the urge to cry, he knew he had to ask for some assistance. Even if it was still so beaten into his mind that asking for help was a weakness, that weakness would lead to more suffering as punishment, Ramuda tried so hard to remind himself that his friends wouldn't hurt him. Voice back to that natural dark tone, he didn't even have the energy to fake that bright and peppy voice he usually used.

''Dice...uhm, can you feed me...? I don't think I can move my arms anymore...''

[mddlbro]

hey everyone! i'm just popping online for a bit to respond to messages, then i'll be off again. work has me exhausted, but i'm hoping to be more active next month—fingers crossed! until then, my activity will be a bit slow and sporadic.

[mddlbro]

Dice stumbles out of the casino, cursing his bad luck, when suddenly—thunk—something lands on his head. "Oi! What the hell's that?!" He yells, spinning around, "I ain't no damn tree, get off me, you sneaky little—!" Err. What exactly is this thing?

Zaira quietly lands on the stranger's head. she was so exhausted, she thought they were a tree!

open starter / / / ft Zaira

[mddlbro]

[mddlbro]

In celebration of Sinday, Dice sets up a playful kissing booth, complete with a sign that says, "Gimme a buck and pucker up~ ;)"

[mddlbro]

Dice couldn't help but grin down at Ramuda, his chest puffing out with pride as he casually shrugged, the playful glint in his eyes unmistakable. "Heh, well, I did hit a big one," he said, his voice full of smug satisfaction. He winked at Ramuda, enjoying the sight of his cheeky grin, his own smile growing wider in response. "So we can splurge without a care," he added with a nod, looking every bit the confident winner. Ramuda always knew how to treat him right, and today, it was Dice's turn to return the favor.

"Well, let's get going, yeah?" He threw a hand out in an exaggerated motion, like he was trying to push Ramuda into action. "Or do you need me to hold your hand too?" Dice teased, sticking his tongue out playfully before spinning around on his heels. "C'mon, let's go!" he called over his shoulder, already taking off toward the cafe, leaving Ramuda to hurry and catch up.

"Every day's fun with my posse around, duh~!" And Ramuda means it with all his heart. Even if he didn't have a choice with creating this team, he can't help but cherish it.

And that includes this very moment, with Dice indulging him and letting him have fun atop his shoulders! It doesn't last for long, and he already kind of misses the warmth of being held. But it's whatever, because the warmth of simply hanging out with Dice is something he can savor for this entire trip!

"Wowie, you did??" Ramuda hmms, teasing smile at his lips as he taps a finger against his cheek. "How much was the jackpot, Daisu~? Don't tell me you're blowing it all on this~?? In that case, I'll have to treat myself real well to your money, riiiiight~?"

[mddlbro]

Bonus:

💥 — Background: Born in Aso, Kyushu, Deidara's fascination with destruction grew under the influence of his explosives expert father. After losing both parents, he was taken in by a sculptor who honed his clay artistry, but Deidara's obsession with explosions led him to fuse the two into dangerous works of art. His encounters with shady figures, including the conman Rei Amayado, gave him access to volatile materials for his explosive sculptures. 💥 — When the Party of Worlds rose to power, Deidara's acquisition of a Hypnosis Mic amplified his creative abilities, allowing him to control emotions while channeling his chaotic philosophy of destruction as art. Scouted by underground factions, he now uses his explosive creations for destruction in turf wars, never seeking fame or recognition—only the thrill of the explosion. 💥 — Personality: Arrogant, confident, and detached, Deidara views himself as an artist above all others. His tragic past drives his need to create and destroy, using the Hypnosis Mic as both a tool of self-expression and control. He manipulates emotions while remaining emotionally distant, living life as a lone wolf, indifferent to anything but his art. 💥 — Verse Summary: Deidara's life is chaos. With his Hypnosis Mic, he shapes his explosive creations into powerful performances, manipulating emotions and leaving destruction in his wake. In Taito, he works in secret, accepting commissions from underground factions, leaving a legacy defined by fleeting beauty and explosive destruction. For Deidara, the ultimate art is the explosion—beautiful for a moment, then gone in an instant.

Name: Deidara Ishiba MC Name: C-4 Vandal Occupation: Ceramic Artist, Mercenary Age: 19 Family: Deceased (Father - explosives expert, Mother - ornithologist) Affiliates: Various underground factions (no formal allegiance) Microphone: A dynamic mic shaped like an intricately detailed clay bird, its eyes crackle with flames, and hidden explosive charges activate during battles. Symbolizing Deidara's philosophy that art must be fleeting, beautiful in its destruction. Speakers: Birds, insects, and explosives—clay sculptures that double as both art and tools of devastation. These serve as his "sound system," shattering the air with both sight and sound. Rap Style: Explosive, raw, and unpredictable. Deidara's delivery is sharp, emotionally charged, and designed to manipulate his opponents' deepest feelings, swinging from intense anger to pure exhilaration. He builds tension, then releases it in chaotic bursts of energy. Rap Ability: C1 Artistry — Deidara can summon clay constructs mid-verse, turning his battles into visual and auditory spectacles. These explosive creations detonate on command, overwhelming foes with a barrage of unpredictable attacks.

— 💥 — Taito's streets hummed beneath him, but Deidara wasn’t listening to the noise—he thrived in it. Perched on a rooftop, he casually twirled his Hypnosis Mic—a sleek, clay bird with crackling eyes, ready to explode at his will. It wasn't just a mic; it was his creation, his tool of freedom. The world had turned upside down with the rise of the Party of Worlds, and Deidara embraced it. He wasn't interested in the Division Rap Battles or fame. He was an artist, and his art was destruction. Every job, every turf war was another opportunity to leave his mark in flames. A new commission awaited. A new chance to let the chaos reign. With a smirk, he felt the familiar rush as his fingers danced over the mic. "True art is an explosion," he declared, sending a pulse of energy through the air. He stood up, dropped the mic into his hand, and stepped toward the edge. The world was his canvas—and he was about to make it explode.

[mddlbro]

[mddlbro]

Warning: Incoming spam alert! Apologies in advance for the spam crimes I'm about to commit!

[mddlbro]

Name: Deidara Ishiba MC Name: C-4 Vandal Occupation: Ceramic Artist, Mercenary Age: 19 Family: Deceased (Father - explosives expert, Mother - ornithologist) Affiliates: Various underground factions (no formal allegiance) Microphone: A dynamic mic shaped like an intricately detailed clay bird, its eyes crackle with flames, and hidden explosive charges activate during battles. Symbolizing Deidara's philosophy that art must be fleeting, beautiful in its destruction. Speakers: Birds, insects, and explosives—clay sculptures that double as both art and tools of devastation. These serve as his "sound system," shattering the air with both sight and sound. Rap Style: Explosive, raw, and unpredictable. Deidara's delivery is sharp, emotionally charged, and designed to manipulate his opponents' deepest feelings, swinging from intense anger to pure exhilaration. He builds tension, then releases it in chaotic bursts of energy. Rap Ability: C1 Artistry — Deidara can summon clay constructs mid-verse, turning his battles into visual and auditory spectacles. These explosive creations detonate on command, overwhelming foes with a barrage of unpredictable attacks.

— 💥 — Taito's streets hummed beneath him, but Deidara wasn’t listening to the noise—he thrived in it. Perched on a rooftop, he casually twirled his Hypnosis Mic—a sleek, clay bird with crackling eyes, ready to explode at his will. It wasn't just a mic; it was his creation, his tool of freedom. The world had turned upside down with the rise of the Party of Worlds, and Deidara embraced it. He wasn't interested in the Division Rap Battles or fame. He was an artist, and his art was destruction. Every job, every turf war was another opportunity to leave his mark in flames. A new commission awaited. A new chance to let the chaos reign. With a smirk, he felt the familiar rush as his fingers danced over the mic. "True art is an explosion," he declared, sending a pulse of energy through the air. He stood up, dropped the mic into his hand, and stepped toward the edge. The world was his canvas—and he was about to make it explode.

[mddlbro]

Dice blinked, his mouth hanging open, the cigarette dangling precariously between his fingers. He narrowed his eyes at Ramuda, one brow raised as a playful smirk tugged at his lips. No way. He wouldn't... would he? The thought lingered as he leaned in, eyeing Ramuda's glittering, too-perfect grin. There was no way he'd intentionally leave Gentaro out like that, right? But still, the idea of just the two of them... it sent an unexpected thrill through him.

Dice snickered, shaking off the suspicion. "You sure Gentaro isn't about to burst through that door any second? He might get his feelings hurt if we're hanging out all sneaky-like..." He tilted his head, his tone dripping with mock concern. "Poor ol' Gencharo might be sad if he finds out." The words left his mouth, and Dice immediately laughed, shaking his head at himself. "Nah, I'm just messing with you."

"But hey, if you're okay with closing shop early, then hell yeah, I'm game. Lead the way, boss man." Dice took another drag from his cigarette, effortlessly rising from the couch. He tucked his cig pack into his coat pocket, then leaned in just enough to blow a playful puff of smoke in Ramuda's face, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I don't mind sneaking around with you, but if Gentaro finds out, that's on you."

Trying? Hah, from how Ramuda's seeing it, he's already winning! The good ol' cutesy eyes look never fails him! Not when his opponent is Dice, at any rate. Dice's words soon after only confirms his victory.

"Gencharo won't show up, we don't have a playdate planned~!" Ramuda says, injecting absolute confidence into his voice. Gentaro's more than likely trying to get through a deadline, since he hasn't bothered replying to Ramuda's text in the past two days. But that's just a guess! He can never be 100% certain, even if he's gotten to know Gentaro's habits.

"Oh, but if you're still worried, how 'bout I lock the door~?" For once during the daytime. It's funny seeing Dice walk into something he's not supposed to, honest. He grins, reaching out for a cigarette again. "And we can go smoke on the roof~! So even if Gentaro decides to visit, he won't see us in here~!"

[mddlbro]

Warning: Incoming spam alert! Apologies in advance for the spam crimes I'm about to commit!

[mddlbro]

🎲 Roll the dice || modern.

Dice Arisugawa, a 20-year-old gambler and art model, lives a fast-paced and chaotic life, always chasing the next thrill. Raised in a wealthy but emotionally distant family, Dice's life took a turn when his father was imprisoned, and his mother sent him away, leading him to seek solace in gambling and fleeting connections. Despite his reckless behavior, Dice is deeply loyal to the few people he trusts, and he harbors a secret desire for genuine human connection, even if he hides it behind humor and flirtation.

[mddlbro]

Dice narrowed his eyes, his gaze almost comically squinted, as Doppo's words rang in his ears. "Quit while you're ahead." Yeah, yeah, he could practically hear it echoing in his mind—Doppo, always the buzzkill, worrying about the worst-case scenario. But… damn, there was some truth to it, wasn't there? The nagging voice in the back of his head whispered that this streak of good luck couldn't last forever. His wins had been too easy—too effortless—like some kind of wild fluke. Even a seasoned gambler like him couldn't ignore the signs. Maybe Doppo had a point. But… it was a rush! A high! Each card dealt, every chip that clinked down in front of him—it felt like a shot of pure euphoria straight to his veins. He couldn't walk away now, could he? Not when he was on top. That was the whole thrill of it!

Yet—

Dice let out a frustrated sigh and glanced over at Doppo, giving him a playful, exaggerated pout. "Aww, come on, man, don't be such a downer." He made a show of frowning, dramatically rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand, trying to suppress how ridiculous he must've looked. But as much as he hated to admit it, Doppo was just looking out for him. And that caught his attention, more than anything else. This wasn't some random guy telling him to pack it in. It was Doppo—the guy who always gave everything for his company, who pushed himself to the limit and never seemed to get a break. Even if it grated on Dice's nerves, there was a part of him that couldn't help but admire that. It went against everything Dice believed in, sure, but it was hard not to respect.

And as much as he hated to admit it, Doppo was right. His luck could turn at any moment, and the last thing he wanted was to drag a friend into his mess—especially when that friend had rare time off and actually chose to spend it with him.

"Alright, alright, I'm out, I'm out…" Dice muttered, his voice tinged with frustration as he turned away from the dealer like a kid being dragged out of a carnival. He tossed his last chips onto the table with a half-hearted huff, trying his best to ignore the slight deflation creeping in. But then—wait. A spark of inspiration hit him. Maybe he could still salvage this. "But hey! Wanna try something else, Doppo? They've got all kinds of games here. Roulette, blackjack, the whole shebang. Or—" He scratched his chin, a mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. "I know this great restaurant nearby. My treat! I dragged you out here, after all. I'm a man of my word, yeah? Just let me cash out real quick, and we can go grab some grub."

@mddlbro || Continued ~

He's looking alright. And with all the luck accumulated in one sitting, things could only go downhill from here, the way he saw it. Doppo cast his eyes on the dealer, then let his gaze wander around the rest of the room.

He swore there's always some kind of shady scam with these places. Glitzy atmosphere with lights and music that could rival a nightclub, designed to get you pumped. Addicted. Especially when win streaks get you lost in euphoria — only for it all to come crashing down the next round when you start to lose everything. And still the addiction only grows. Doppo felt way out of place, the only reason he's standing here being the smug gambler at his side-

"That's not what I..." Of course Dice wasn't listening, too far gone to be reasoned with. Now he could just bail, but he noticed the look in the other's eyes, knowing very well what it's like. Crunch time at the office, fueled by caffeine, adrenaline coursing through him in a mad race to meet an impossible deadline. His body would near shut down by the time it's over with, only for one balding manager to demand that he pull another all-nighter.

Had the adrenaline not worn off, he'd have let certain impulses win.

"...What?" Taken aback, he stared at the empty seat - not unlike a treat being waved at his face with the way Dice suggested it. Adrenaline wears off eventually, and makes you pay. He knew that more than most. As tempting as carefree euphoria was, one of them had to be the responsible adult here. And it clearly wasn't Dice.

"And I think this lucky train is fast running out of tracks. Trust me, I've a bad feeling about this." And he's almost always right with that hunch. "I'm telling you this is exactly how they'd rope you into debt! And I don't have the money to lend." He hissed close to the gambler's ear, not risking the dealer overhearing. "Don't you think you should quit while you're ahead?" He might just have to end up dragging Dice away from the betting table-