jordan cole

for @bloodngloryhq | tattoo artist / drug dealer | the family

[g3mcore]

G3MCORE .   a  dependent , private  blog affiliated  with bloodngloryhq. written by gem ( thirty , she / her , gmt+1 ) please do not interact if not affiliated with the group.

jordan cole [ intro ] . thirty , drug dealer , tattoo artist , the family

nero di fiore [ intro ] . thirty2 , entertainment mogul , the network

[bruisedxsandro]

It was a challenging month. Or perhaps it was more about the month to come. The anniversaries he was about to endure.. triggering memories plaguing his sleep and pushing him to slight insomnia. The only thing Leandro knew how to do when he was having troubles like this was either to bring someone home for a night of frivolous fun, or work out in his gym. But at some point his muscles were screaming and he knew he had to call it quits. He'd been heading to the bathroom when the noise came from the bedroom window. Someone was getting inside. Training kicked in as the tall male lightened his steps and crept along the walls, reaching one of his secret stashes of knives and pulling out a long serrated blade. The door to the room was open, and as he stepped inside, eyes locked with the intruder. Curly hair and a small stature. Both left the italian with quirked brows, wondering if the kid was stupid or high or hell both.

In three quick steps he was besides the other male, pushing him up against the wall, knife to his throat as he leaned in close. "I think you are lying ragazzo." he said in a low and hard voice, eyes not leaving the others. "You best give me a better explanation for breaking in, or I might be forced to wring the truth out of you by.. less hospitable means."

[g3mcore]

j froze up when the blade caught his throat. air stalled. the cold edge pressed just enough that he had to be careful with every breath. the wall was hard against his back, shoulder blades flat, one heel slipping on tile. the guy’s face right there in front of him, calm in a way that pissed him off more than the knife did. he could smell steel. the kind of scent that sat behind blood.

he tried to breathe quiet through his nose, tried not to move, because one twitch and the night could turn red. his fingers twitched anyway, eager to push leandro away from him. shock never lasted long with him. didn’t matter who it was, didn’t matter what they held. fear always came first, but it always burned out fast. left nothing but that wired anger that wanted to bite. sometimes he wondered where the fuck those instincts were, when christoper found him and his son in the dusty attict.

“get that shit off me,” he muttered, jaw locked. his breath hitched on the next inhale, then slowed again until it sounded more like a growl. he met the man’s eyes and didn’t blink. no one put him down. no one. blood rushed in his ears, covering the man's words.

he leaned in, slow, till there wasn’t a sliver left between his throat and that edge. “go on,” he said, quiet. “think y'scare me?” he didn’t flinch. didn’t blink. just waited, blood humming in his ears.

[softstcps]

A night off work, intended to relax and not worry about the current mess the city was in. Hande had plans, made them days ago when she heard about a new restaurant opening. What she didn't account for was the chaos and the noises drifting over from the other room before she could even remotely leave.

The door had already been open before the clashing of things had caused her to turn back, to check only to find herself in the dark, clearly with presence. No denial of annoyance was given to the matter at hand as things became a lot clearer once the lights were turned on.

Annoyed as she was the brunette marched over to the window, to close it. A forgetful moment that had led to all of this. A mistake on her part, no doubt.

"Care to explain precisely what this is?" Hande recognized the other, had seen the one in front of her connected to the family plenty. "Was a little heads up too much to ask?" Her head moved, tilted in curiosity. "If this bad luck persists we'll have cops in front of the door in a moment." She ignored the fact that she was a cop all the same, for the moment either way. "Lucky you." ❧ @g3mcore

[g3mcore]

jordan’s talking faster than he can think - “hey, look i’m fuckin’ sorry. i know this is fucked up and i shouldn’t just jump through random fuckin’ windows but i was selling these - hum, right, and i didn’t realize there was security around here, i mean, what the fuck? students don’t need fuckin’ security, you know? but then this fucking tank of a guy comes bounding towards me, i swear he woulda taken me the fuck out so i just had to run. i saw the fire escape and–”

… and only then does he slow down, realizing that, whether or not it’s the shock of the whole situation, the woman's weirdly calm.

“oh, hey,” he says, finally actually looking at the lady's face. “i remember you,” jordan tells her with a nod, catching his breath now. chest rising and falling rapidly as he pants. “i’m shitty with names. you’ll have to remind me…”

[romymccready]

𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 worn floorboards, hair loose, cotton sleeves pushed carelessly to her elbows. her expression didn’t change much, just a slow, assessing blink. a pocket knife hung from her fingers, blade half-exposed. she didn't brandish it or hide it. the steel caught what little light there was, speaking for itself.

"i reckon you might’ve stumbled into the wrong place," she assumed, the words floating like dust motes in the stillness between them. she looked him over once, not scared so much as curious. it was the same way she’d study a stray cat that wandered in through the fire escape. she didn’t rush to fill the silence between them. a long moment passed where she seemed to be deciding something as she studied his hands, the way his shoulders held. then, with a faint click, she folded the knife shut.

"if you’re here to rob me, i’m afraid there’s not much of value," she told him. "if you’re not…" she glanced toward the kitchen. "i have some soup on. if you’re hungry." she should’ve asked what he wanted, who he was, why he’d chosen her window of all places. but she didn’t. not yet. her instincts moved slower than most. and he was a guest until he showed her he wasn’t. hospitality was something sacred to romy. an old superstition, a rule that stuck no matter where she lived. she believed that turning away a hungry soul brought worse luck than letting one in.

[g3mcore]

the minute he spies the knife in the woman’s hand, j reaches back for his own, clicking the button and having the thing held in front of himself in less than a second. jordan mirrors the woman for a moment but, after a short while, remembers exactly what situation he’s in here; breaking into a woman’s apartment at night and all… he tucks the blade back in and stuffs it back into his pocket. she’s got every fucking right to pull a knife on him. he drags a hand over his face, tired eyes pulling as he huffs.

“i’m tryna stay outa trouble here, not get into more of it.” he says with a nod.

it’s his own fault this time. can’t blame chris or tommy for dragging him into any trouble or his mother for the way his shitty past in the city has got his face branded onto the back of all of her enemies eyelids. only person he can blame is himself and the asshole at the junkyard that couldn’t take a joke when j climbed into the back of that busted old corsa and tried to hotbox the thing. granted, he was already high and, sure, the windshield was shattered, so the idea was pretty shitty from the go but, hey, that batch of molly he’s meant to be selling? it ain’t half fucking bad… just a shame every last bit of it left his body right as the guy pulled the gun on him and he’s been stone-cold ever since.

“hiding,” it's his only explanation, settling for honesty, but not too much. “l’ll be outa your hair in… ten minutes. right?”

the girl's weird hospitality pulled a laugh out of jordan, who followed her into the apartment. “i mean, i could eat,” he shrugged, never one to turn down free food.

[dadivosos]

no one understood his vision , why make things overly complicated if they couldn't explain it. it made no sense , just like america made no sense. " no , she got an americano , " he muttered under his breath pointing at some random lady. mikail threw a look at the other , disbelief at how uncultured he was. " matcha , its a japanese drink that the americans have claimed for themselves. " the other didn't seem the type to try it , he could barley put a sentence together. " it's green tea in a powder form , " he mused , happy to bestow knowledge on anyone.

[g3mcore]

j could already tell his day was turning. the guy turned to him, all puffed up, talking like he thought every word deserved applause. j stared, blank, his patience thinning.

“right,” he said. “so it’s tea.”

steam hissed from behind the counter. smelled burnt. the barista was moving around slow, they didn’t wanna be here either. j rolled his shoulders, sniffed, and turned an unimpressed look at the man.

“y'got opinions on toast too?” he asked, tone dry enough to crack.

[gildedash]

he lets his gaze wander towards jordan, studying his piercing blue hues that he so subsequently noticed was traveling against his own figure. he doesn’t say anything though, he and j have had a…….. long history to say the least. “why does everyone keep fucking sayin’ that, man? ‘m fine. chill bro. relax. ” he listens to the sirens, and the birds chirp. there was a silence between the two. “you know i don’t do that shit,” he adds finally. “speaking of, you still clean?” he always mentally reminds himself to check in with the other, knowing his history. he was a friend after all these years, wasn’t he? “the birdies appeared to be moving fast with the rest of the world, don't they?” he notes as he sighs, running his fingers through his buzzed head. “it don’t matter anyways.” he shrugs it off, though simon’s mind was still wandering. “c’mon then.” he stands up from the railing and holds a hand out for j to take. “i’ve got all the time in the world today brother, you might be stuck with me. sounds traumatizing i know. i would be scared if i was stuck with me too.” he says, giving him a sheepish smile.

[g3mcore]

jordan huffed a laugh. “why everyone sayin’ that, huh?” he repeated, shaking his head as he pushed simon. “maybe ‘cause of all that poetic shit.” his grin stuck, crooked and easy. the push wasn’t hard. just a friendly shove, habit.

when simón asked if he was clean, that grin didn’t drop. just flattened a little, got lazy at the edges. he rolled his jaw, stretched a shoulder like he’d been asked about the weather. “yeah, m’sober,” he said. tone casual, eyes back on the water in front of them.

then jordan stared at the offered hand, and he barked a laugh. “what- you tryna hold hands now? that’s romantic as fuck.” his eyes flicked up, blue and amused. he didn’t take it, but he moved with him, still chuckling. he doesn't think being stuck with simon's a bad thing, there're much worse ways to spend a day. he's tryna staying outta chris's apartment as much as he can these weeks, only going back when he needed sleep.

“ey,” he calls, pulling a box of cards from his jeans. “watch this shit,” he mutters, deeply concentrated as he shuffles the card, breaks the deck in half, and shuffles some more. he's been working on his cards tricks lately. “think of a card and pick one,” j says, before he fans them out, slowing down his walking pace pace.

[g3mcore]

closed  starter  :  jordan  cole  &  tommy  hatch location  :  tommy's place @tomhatch

jordan had already told himself three times that he wasn’t gonna ring the bell again. then he did it anyway.

he checked his phone and shoved it back in his pocket. no answer to the texts, no call back. typical.

“you better not be dead, man,” he muttered, knocking again. knuckles hit wood, slow rhythm this time. not angry. just tired.

he’d spent the last hour convincing himself this wasn’t about missing the guy. wasn’t about guilt, either. just checking in, making sure tommy hadn’t choked on his own bullshit or whatever the fuck he was snorting these days.

he leaned against the doorframe, thumb grazing the edge of his lighter in his pocket. he gave the door another few knocks, louder this round. “tommy. i swear to god, man. open up before i kick it down.” his voice came out rough, more breath than threat. he’d done the yelling part two weeks ago, the fuck-off, the i-ain’t-doing-this-shit-again part. thought it’d stick this time. but then the silence got loud, and the nights got long, and all that anger bleed out, and here he was again. just checkin’ in, he repeated in his head. that’s all. ain’t stayin’. just checkin’.

[skogrn]

[g3mcore]

open  starter  :  jordan  cole  &  OPEN location  :  your muse's place

window slid open with a hiss and a grunt–thank fuck. he ain’t planned to jump through it, but he ain’t planned on gettin’ chased across half the damn city either, and here he was.

he slipped the rest of the way in, one foot catchin’ on the sill, half-climb, half-fall, all grace of a dropped sack of tools into a pitch black room. outside, he could hear the footsteps had slowed. went from slap-slap panic to the kind of walk a guy does when he don’t know if the rabbit turned left or right.

go ahead and keep guessin’, asshole. j crouched low, back to the wall, breath pulled quiet. “too old for this bullshit,” he muttered. had a whole life of regrets, but climbin’ through some stranger’s window at thirty ranked stupid high. a couple minutes, that’s all he needed. he’d be gone like smoke before anybody even noticed- “fuck!” he jerked back so hard he knocked somethin’ over behind him.

there was a shape in the dark, someone standin’. “fuckin’ made me jump,” he breathed, one hand halfway up in the universal sign of stop. a pause. “i-uh… the door was open,” he added, which was a boldface lie and also not even the excuse he meant to say. “…window. i mean, fuck. same difference.”

@bloodnglorystart

[g3mcore]

la air stuck to the skin when you walked. hot, thick. smelled like burnt oil and popcorn grease. jordan slowed up when he saw the cart: a busted silver box on wheels, the kind that probably failed every health inspection but still sold out every day. steam came off it in white puffs. regular popcorn in one tray, then weird shit next to it, like birthday cake and hot cheetos.

he patted his pockets. shit, nothing. no cash, he didn't carry credit cards and his phone was too old for the tap thing. he watched. the vendor scoop a bag for some kid, butter leaking through the paper. smelled so damn good.

he stood there a minute, chewing on air, then he spotted someone walking past and he stepped out. “yo,” he said, hand running through his hair. “you got five bucks?” then, knowing he hadn't bothered taming his hair that day, and he looked like he missed the last one or two weeks of sleep, he added, “s’for popcorn,” and nodded in the cart general direction.

[g3mcore]

[gildedash]

location: golden sands beach

status: open @bloodnglorystart

"don't you think the world just needs to move a little slower sometimes?" simón asks as he stares at the shoreline. he can't imagine living in a palce where the seasons actually change. he thinks he would miss going to the beach and just staring at the horizon. he knows he would not do that the second the weather got cripser. though he supposes fall in l.a. always felt weird because of that, however at this point he was used to it since growing up here. "it seems like everything goes so fast these days." he says with a shrug. and just like that like it's right on queue a siren from a nearby police car goes off, causing the seagulls to fly away into the distance. "should we keep on walking? or do you have some place you need to be? i took the day off, so i've got all the time in the world right now."

[g3mcore]

j leaned on the rail, elbows hooked over cold metal. his pupils were wide enough that the lights from the boardwalk made halos in the corners of his vision. simon’s voice came in low beside him, that thoughtful, too-serious tone people got when they’d been staring at water too long. talking about how the world needed to slow down or something. he turned his head, watched his handsome profile for a second.

he smirked. “man, you high or somethin’? that shit’s deep.”

he rolled his shoulders, the sound of sirens cutting through the calm, quick as a slap. birds shot up into the sky and for a second, everything was motion again, feathers, light, noise. he squinted, watching the chaos.

“world ain’t fast,” he said. “people just don’t stop movin’. big difference.” he nodded toward the sand. “we can walk, yeah. i ain’t got nowhere to be.”

[dadivosos]

" it makes no sense , " he told the barista , that honestly did not make enough money to be dealing with him. " a latte has coffee --- but matcha is not coffee , " he explained again , americans were too weird and obsessed with these beans , these nuts. " does a matcha latte have coffee ? " he asked again to which the barista said they would ask their manager if they could put coffee in the matcha latte. he sighed , everyone was just stupid , dumb , useless. " i'll take a black coffee , " he said putting his money down on the table , probably too much of it and stepped away , a headache growing.

@bloodnglorystart

[g3mcore]

the guy ahead of him was losing his mind over a drink. voice cutting through the shop, sharp and restless. j stood behind him, hands in his pockets, stomach empty, half-awake. he didn’t get the problem, but the man kept arguing, asking about coffee that wasn’t coffee, ma-something that wasn’t enough of something. the barista blinked through it, face tight, eyes already done. j shifted his weight, listened to the whole scene because he couldn’t not, then the guy ordered a plain black. j frowned. all that noise for nothing.

“next,” the barista said.

he stepped up. “coffee,” he said, and handed over the bills, hands trembling slightly. moving aside to wait, closer to the guy again, he muttered, “bit disappointing, all that talk just to order the same shit as everybody else.” then paused. “actually, what’s the difference between that marsh-macho latte thing and, y’know, regular coffee?”

[dadivosos]

his pup was not a fancy pup , on the contrary he saw some guy selling the pups on la cienega and jefferson and couldn't really pass up the opportunity. a little blonde guy came up to him and they instantly bonded , like how jacob imprinted on renesmee as a literal baby. maybe he was renesmee in this situation , who knew ? he'd gotten acquainted with the little guy for about a month now , he reacted to his name which was a plus but he still pissed everywhere especially around the los angeles scaries. " sit , " he told the puppy who just stared back at him. nathaniel stared back , " down ? " he asked and the puppy just seemed to keep staring. nathaniel sighed and that seemed to work and caused the pup to lie down , " so you can hear me , " he told the pup. he noticed a stare and he turned his head , " i'm not crazy. "

@bloodnglorystart

[g3mcore]

jordan stood there with a half-burned joint behind his ear and an empty stomach that’d been complaining since last night. shoulda stopped to buy instant ramen. shoulda done a lot of things. instead, he was just killin time, leaning against a lamppost.

guy couple feet down the street had a puppy. jordan watched it tilt its head, eyes open, not one thought passing through them. j smirked to himself as the guy sighed, and he got caught doing so. jordan just lifted his chin. “yeah, nah. you good. he’s playin’ you, bro.” he crossed over, slow, mostly ‘cause he couldn't stand still for long, and crouched, let the dog sniff his knuckles. little thing, soft. “you the boss, huh?” he said to the pup.

[skogrn]

[upthespiralstaircase]

[26scriptum]