pholly

⟨ joe  manganiello.  cis  male.  he/him. ⟩  ↪  have  you  met  jason  silvio  yet  ?  this  forty-three  year  old  aries  has  been  living  in  the  beverly  hills  area  for  twenty-five  years.  he  makes  a  living  as  a  real  estate  agent  /  entrepreneur,  which  works  for  their  unflappable,  driving,  deceitful,  and  headstrong  nature.  looking  for  the  magic  by  dwight  twilley  is  one  of  j’s  favorite  songs,  and  they’re  written  by  melly,  25,  pst,  none.  ⟨ 🔪 + 🤳 ⟩

i really played myself thinking i’d stick w one muse !! hennyway, dis jason !

confused and a little shook up from the previous night still, corey is a sight for sore eyes. “ mornin’ to you too, jones. ” taylor holds her hand out, an ancient gesture to bum a cigarette from her oldest friend. before the writer can retort with a quip, she’s violently blushing when corey gets the reason why she’s up so early right. “ a dame never tells. ” taylor wiggles her eyebrows. “ and no further questions. it’s too early to think. ”

corey makes to bite at taylor’s hand, pulls back with a toothy grin. “where’s this dame? all’s i see is a lil thot.” winking, she holds her cup between her teeth, using her free hand to fish a spare cigarette from it’s pack. “aw c’mon, tay, you gotta let me live vicariously. i’ve been up all night and not in a good way.”

coral  lips  pull  into  a  smirk,  instinctive  as  far  as  corey  is  concerned,  with  slender  digits  tucking  a  stray  wisp  of  caramel  behind  her  ear  before  offering  two  charming  middle  fingers  and  a  low  chuckle.  ‘  if  only  i  had  shame,  ’  she  exhales,  evading  an  actual  answer  and,  instead,  peering  out  at  the  glowing  horizon.  ‘  think  i  might  go  for  a  swim  before  the  tourists  start  to  terrorize  the  beach,  ’  shades  drop  down  her  nose,  bleary  gaze  falling  upon  the  friendly  face  with  glowing  mischief.  ‘  come  with.  i’ll  do  my  best  not  to  drown  you  this  time.  ’

“we’re all tourists here.” smoke shadows corey’s sardonically scrunched nose, she gestures to the watery horizon. “at least we are in there and i got a healthy respect for big fish that wanna bethany hamilton me for breakfast, yanno?” still, she steps slowly out of her sandals, lets her cup sink between them in the sand, but holds onto the cigarette. a smile begins to grow. “i’m not wearing a suit.”

“For me?” she asks, snatching the cup from Corey’s hand taking a sip, slowly so as not to burn her tongue–it wouldn’t be in styrofoam if it wasn’t piping hot, though she’d have rather stolen an iced coffee. “Walk of shame,” she echoes with a smirk, the lingo inadvertently taking her back to college. “Are we still stuck on that verbiage? I feel proud. And maybe a little sore. And thirsty. You know, if not for this coffee. It’s kind of disgusting though.” She hands it back with a cheeky grin that she hides as quickly as it came, running her tongue over her teeth. If they look half as gross as they feel having not brushed them yet, she shouldn’t be smiling at anyone.

“vic, when don’t you feel proud?” a scoffed laugh is sealed by the cigarette, she takes a thoughtful drag. “no shame in the fucking... some shame in the fucker. he don’t make you shitty coffee, you gotta come take all mine?” there’s an extended pause and corey’s shooting a wry smirk, shrugging. “then again i just left my dentist’s house... turns out i’m way more masochistic than i thought.” as the sun arches higher in the sky, corey fixes her shades on the crook of her nose and tilts her head. “breakfast? i’ll let you buy.”

double eye bags rest under blue-grey orbs accompanied by the greasiest messy bun plopped on top of imogen’s head as she made heavy foot steps on the pavement. she had been up since two in the morning and she looked the part. she woke from a dead sleep to the strongest pang of inspiration she had ever gotten. when she was finally done and realized what time it was, she couldn’t go back to bed. there was too much to do and not enough time in the day. her wandering footsteps led her to corey’s abode. a hand rises to shield her eyes from the blinding light, looking over at the other. “don’t know. haven’t been to bed,” she fought the urge to yawn. imogen couldn’t help but laugh. “i WISH this was a walk of shame,” the sleep-deprived woman paused to think. “in a way, this is something of a walk of shame. not as much shame as usual— coffee?” there’s a tinge of hopefulness in her voice. maybe corey had something to share with the hopeless writer.

“mm, yeah, writer brain is worse than one night stands... at least the one night stands leave in the morning.” wordlessly, corey hands over the cup, it’s contents turned lukewarm during her walk back to the apartments. she jerks her head, one arm slipping loosely around imogen’s waist. “c’mon, i’ll make a fresh pot... and, yes, by make i do mean burn.” she guides the blonde through the gates of her complex, follows the paved, weeded walkway to her front door. “the sleeplessness do the trick then? ‘cause i’ve been up for an hour and i’m ready to go the fuck back to bed. see, i think napping agrees more with my writer brain.”

   the  last  thing  jon  expected  when  going  for  a  cup  of  his  normal  coffee  was  to  be  interrogated  before  even  entering  the  establishment .  still ,  he  was  a  charming  individual  so  was  sure  to  give  the  other  a  smile  before  proceeding  with  an  explanation .  “ going  to  get  my  morning  coffee ,  i’m  an  early  riser .  things  don’t  run  themselves ,  you  know .”  he  chuckled  .  “  sorry  to  disappoint  you ,  however ,  i’m  sure  you’ll  find  someone  in  that  predicament  at  least once  this  week .”

“mm, so a damn shame.” she snaps her fingers like, shoot. corey’s smile is patient, laidback. “yeaah, but have we tried? if the system’s so bad it can’t keep movin’ without us all tucked away in our skyscrapers, maybe it oughta burn down?” she’s not inherently anti-establishment, but the talk usually riles up the suits, much to her amusement. this one, she imagines, is probably unflappable. too chipper to be corporate, that’s for sure. corey often notices him in this coffee shop, usually rushing merrily off with his morning joe just as she’s settling into her favorite patio seat. her head cocks, hand gesturing to the chair opposite her’s in lieu of an invitation. “hell, maybe you’d even get to pause and enjoy one of those cappuccinos.”

“…And here I was, thinking I wouldn’t wake you up or get caught, if I climbed through the window,” Mia teased her roommate in response, decidedly too chirpy for this early in the morning. Her bare feet tapped across the floor with great ease, over to where her roommate was and in her hand she carried her outrageous (and borrowed) designer heels, as well as her wig from the previous night. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” a meaningful, yet playful look sent her way. “Don’t be jealous Corey, you know I always come back home to you,” and to conclude, she dipped her head to lightly bite the other’s shoulder. Her gaze landed to the coffee in a cup and an almost dreamy sigh escaped her. “–For me?” It wasn’t but hey, it was worth a shot. “How was your night? You can tell me all about it while making me breakfast?” The Levi suggested, wearing her most sheepish and brilliant smile. Once again, it was worth a shot.

“-- aw, yeah, been sittin’ here just waiting. me, the lonesome housewife and you, the brave soldier sent off to whore --- i mean war.” tongue is tucked wryly between her teeth, a wink for good measure implying her lightheartedness. it’s a self-aware hypocrisy -- each morning it’s usually a toss-up between which of the women would come stumbling through the front door and corey has long since released her feelings of bitterness about it... mostly. from her spot sat on their scratched up dining table she defensively holds her coffee close. “hell no, i’m on hour thirteen of a work binge and this is me tricking my body into thinking it actually got some goddamn sleep last night. here --,” she holds her cigarette up to mia’s lips, smiling brilliantly, “breakfast.” a foot kicks out to nudge her leg, ends up wrapping itself around mia’s calf. “you can use the door, you fuckin’ nut. no eggshells on the ground, you don’t gotta tiptoe.”

⟨ zoe  kravitz.  cis  fem.  she/her. ⟩  ↪  have  you  met  corey  jones  yet  ?  this  thirty-one  year  old  sagittarius  has  been  living  in  the  weho  area  for  ten years.  she  makes  a  living  as  a  comic  book  artist,  which  works  for  their  spontaneous,  empathetic,  strong-willed,  and  flighty  nature.  in  lust  we  trust  by  steve  lacey  is  one  of  cor’s  favorite  songs.

hi, i’m sidney prescott’s mom -- melly !! this here is my chaotic gay feminist, corey. some deets about her are below. can’t wait to meet and plot w all your beauts !