malmanichoti

[malmanichoti]

[malmanichoti]

Mal is about to tell her that if 'nice' means being overly friendly to every schmo on the street then no, nice isn't her thing, and to also tell her to go fuck herself about the princess thing even though it's not not true, on some level, but stops short of either when Lenny actually puts her arms around her. Mal blinks at her in surprise before gathering herself and lifting her chin. "No," she says, attempting dignified even though she's too tipsy to pull it off with her usual flair. "Are you?"

If this all went disastrously wrong, as it probably would, that would be a problem for a later Lenny. A likely more sober Lenny. Maybe a less emotional Lenny. But this version of Lennon was making the current choice to lean into risk, because what would life be if not for living on the edge?

"For some reason, I have a sinking suspicion that nice isn't really your thing. Or maybe you like being treated like a princess. I guess that checks out. Lenny takes a breath, considering her options. Mulling it over in her head, she proverbially shrugs, and leans in, her arms slinking over Mal's thin shoulders. "You gonna put up a fight now?"

[malmanichoti]

mal: i just picked up a new toy recently so i'm prob good for that but i'll def get some lingerie mal: and help u pick out a toy! my fave thing 2 help ppl with

phoebe: besides lingerie, maybe a couple toys depending what's on sale/in stock.

phoebe: is there anything you were looking to get? 👀👀

[malmanichoti]

No, she hadn't gotten Adri anything, but Adri doesn't know that and Mal has always been fond of little white lies. "I'm not a bitch," she says, rolling her eyes, "I'm straightforward. And I don't feel like I owe anybody anything. There's a difference." She pushes the door to the café open and goes back out into the cold without a coffee, her taste for it gone. "I mean, what makes me a bitch? 'Cause when dudes are losers I let them know? God forbid."

The brunette cared for Mal, which was probably the most annoying thing of all. They'd been friends and her actions put them in a position where it almost felt like she needed to choose between Lucky and Mal. The choice was made and it would always be him over her. But as time went on, the betrayal lost its sting and she found herself remembering why she likes Mal. They were alike in many ways, outside of being a little too blunt, she supposes.

"Just wishful thinking because I didn't get anything for you." She didn't suspect that she would receive a gift from her so it didn't cross her mind. "I don't think anyone thinks you're evil. Maybe a bitch."

[malmanichoti]

"What is that even supposed to mean?" Mal says dryly. But it tugs at her gut a little, and she thinks maybe Frankie knows that. "Only thing I know about your brother is that he's probably still nutting over Tomb Raider to this day, and you know why? 'Cause it's been half a decade and I'm over it. Now why don't you tell me why you and Brendan still treat me like I fucking ghosted Lucky at the altar or something. Like --" she laughs, "I hand you a coffee and you call me out on stealing makeup? Get over yourself, girly. I'm not trying to get morality-policed by the girl I Dr. Frankensteined together myself in high school."

The satisfaction in the dissolution of Mal's amusement is only soured by the ghost of nostalgia. The lingering knowledge that the woman before her had once been her best friend, had once gathered her under her wings and helped build Frankie from the ground up, a formative part of her teenage years. It is not Mal's cruelness itself in how things had ended with Lucky so much that it was simply the fact that in all her years of witnessing it, Frankie had just never imagined it could ever be turned against her or anyone she loved. But there'd never even been a choice about whose side she was on.

Keeping eye contact, Frankie lifts her cup to her mouth for another sip of the stolen drink (Phillip is currently at the counter, arguing with the baristas). There is a certain thrill in having gotten under the other's skin, the loaded pause before the retaliation. It's met with a simple roll of her eyes, looking away from the other in disinterest, and only refocusing when she began to speak again. "You're just so right. Insulting your clothes was uncalled for." A small pout pulled at her bottom lip, a pass at apologetic. "It's not their fault that a hateful bitch chose to wear them."

And there was the mention of her brother's again. "Well, you seem to know just so much about him, Mal, so you tell me."

[malmanichoti]

mal: hi omg mal: yes i'm so so down. what else are u tryna get besides lingerie

𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩 ⮀ 𝙢𝙖𝙡 💞

phoebe: babeeee phoebe: we need a shopping day in the near future phoebe: especially since all the cute valentine's day lingerie is already out in the adult store and i need some new things for my OF

[malmanichoti]

Sipping her drink, Mal contemplates the extended hand with one eyebrow raised. "I'm afraid," she says finally, "that there isn't enough alcohol in Washington for 'come shake that ass with me' to be an effective pickup line. But I'm a little drunk and feeling generous tonight, do you wanna try again?"

open starter; snow ball event, dance floor

"Come on! Dance with me!" Jake laughed as he beckoned the other towards himself. "I'm not taking no for an answer so you'd better just not fight it and come shake that ass with me." One thing about Jake was that no matter what else was going on in his life, he was gonna have a good time. He finished his cocktail and reached a hand out to the one he hoped was gonna be his dance partner for the night. "What do you say?"

[malmanichoti]

Mal scrunches her nose. "I've never liked eggnog," she says, swirling her cosmo around its glass. "It tastes like old people or something. And you need to be drinking something harder than whatever that is. It's New Year's Eve, you're legally obligated to get, like, sloppy drunk." She gasps, already well on her way. "Oh my god. Let's do shots."

This was first event for Desislava in Fairford and first after her wedding or better say elope. She still couldn’t believe she was away from New York. It was not like she hadn’t been away before, but it was first time like she was away permanently and the New Year Eve’s event was a good place to meet new people. “Believe me, this is one of the best I have ever tried. And I have had a lot.” she said to the person next to her pointing her glass with eggnog.

[malmanichoti]

[malmanichoti]

The bitter amusement melts off of Mal's face, replaced instead with a mild sneer of contempt. On some level it's comical — little Frankie Nichols, whom she, Mal, had personally built from the ground up in high school, sizing her up and passing (faulty) judgments. She has love for Frankie still, somewhere deep down, just as she'll always have love for the other Nichols siblings, and that is, perhaps, what makes the whole thing all the more difficult to stomach.

Mal stares at her for a few drawn-out moments, maintaining eye contact, letting the words linger between them. Finally, she says, "Get fucked, Francesca." Another short pause, and then, "How braindead does someone have to be to carry this chip around on their shoulder for six years? You're gonna call me garbage and insult my outfit?" She laughs disdainfully. "Seriously, get fucked. I'm sure Lucky is, like, so grateful you guys are still making sure to put me in my place whenever you get the chance."

It was a kind of psychological warfare that she hadn't learned from her brothers. Not to their own fault, of course, but they simply didn't fight like this--with cattiness and sharp smiles and sharper quips meant to draw blood. If a problem arose amongst the Nichol's clan, some roughhousing and a couple shoves were typically enough to brush it off...and while Frankie would love to give Mal a shove, she doubted it would end the years of bad blood between them. They'd be enemies longer than they'd even been friends to begin with.

"Always happy to remind you, babe." Her nose scrunched in exaggerated kindness, though her smile is nearly wiped clean at the mention of her brother, as if she had any right to speak of them. "You know, that's a great idea...but if I wanted to pray to garbage, sweetie, I'd find a dumpster. It looks like you already know of one, though, considering..." Her eyes lingered on the other's outfit, nose scrunched once more in clear distaste and a wave of her hand in her general direction. "All that." Even though her shoes are actually, like, really cute...

[malmanichoti]

The thing is, Mal hadn't grabbed the gross holiday drink on purpose, but she does kind of like that Adri believes so wholeheartedly that she must have, so she only grins and lets her believe it. Most people see her as an incurable cunt, which is sometimes annoying but ultimately fine considering it's probably her own fault, mostly, and in this particular circumstance she supposes Adri has good enough reason to assume the worst. Sometimes, though, Mal wonders if she actually deserves this five-year crucifixion from all of his loved ones when all she'd really done was force Lucky to use his wings.

"You seem awfully confident about that," Mal says, brow raised. "Aren't you even the least bit curious if I really did get you something? I mean, I've made bank this year. And I'm not evil, you know."

"You think that I'm supposed to believe you didn't know exactly what you were doing." She wouldn't put it past Mal to grab the grossest coffee there and hand it off to someone just to watch the chaos unfold in front of her. It was why they got along. Until that sense of coldness was turned towards her or someone else. It had been and it was why it left Adri in an odd position. Taking a small sip, she flashed her a smile. "You would have probably given me a present already." And she had an hunch that she'd make it obvious enough that her best friend would know exactly who it was from.

[malmanichoti]

It's the week of the Nichols siblings, apparently. And not one of them is being nice to her.

"I, like, almost forgot how funny you are, Francesca," Mal says in her most exaggeratedly bitchy voice, which is not true — she's most certainly not forgotten that Frankie can (or used to) make her piss her pants laughing like few other people. "You know, I was just telling your big brother the other day, isn't it time you guys, like, found a way to move on from this weird obsessive hatred for me you all wear like a literal cross around your necks? Maybe you should just build me a shrine already."

She should've known the frigidness she'd felt immediately upon entering the coffee shop had a familiar source. A demeanor she'd once idolized and grew to emulate herself, but long over were the days of her adoration of Mal. It is not the first run in in the years since Frankie's failed attempt to fly from the nest (admittedly, though she'd never say so out loud, embarrassing considering the hurled words that'd ended what'd once been a dangerously easy friendship), but part of her couldn't help but wish she'd noticed her present company earlier. She had no qualms about leaving, just as she'd had no qualms about making sure to warn the other patrons of the shop to lock up their brother's for their own protection.

"Suddenly changing your mind and leaving the mess for someone else to deal with--it's nice to see some things never change, Mal." Though a smile pulls at her lips, it is anything but warm. To her own annoyance, the advice is taken with little hesitation, sliding her thumb over the clearly printed name (sucks, Phillip) and raising the stupid peppermint holiday drink to her lips. "Are they locking up the makeup at Target now or are you just trying to branch out?" The other had always had a penchant for a good five finger discount.

[malmanichoti]

#love me a ship that gets a break up scene without actually dating

[malmanichoti]

Mal gives a little gasp. "You don't have to be lonely to use a Hitachi wand," she scolds Emerald playfully, smacking her arm with the dildo. "Mine is my bestie, she always comes in clutch when dudes fumble. Which is like," she rolls her eyes, "eighty percent of the time? Although one of my subs bought me this thing called the Enigma recently and it's seriously changed my life. I think it's by Lelo," she trails off, returning the dildo to the wall display, glancing around the store, and pulling Emerald by the hand over to a different display showcasing dual stimulation toys. "It's one of these dual action kinda things," she picks up a bright pink one, "have you ever tried one before?"

"Mal--" Her name is barely spoken before it dissolves into laughter that Emerald can't control. There's something about Mal that lets her be less prim and proper, shoulders relaxed a fraction, and it's something Em doesn't take for granted. Pulling her own foot-long item off the wall display, she whacks the floppy dildo against hers. "En-guarde, harlot." Tapping them against each other a few more times, she shrugs a shoulder and gestures with her free hand. "I can't think of anything I'd need. I'm lonely, but I'm not Hitachi-lonely yet. Why, is there something I should try? I'll take advice from the expert."

[malmanichoti]

Her eyebrows raise, but she doesn't say anything about the use of her full name. It's appropriately weird, like they've only met a few times before. In a way it's sort of intriguing, to look at this person and think about how he'd once been her entire life, her person, the one she would have looked for in a crowded room, whose favorite flavor of ice cream she still knows, and how he likes his coffee, and what his nervous tics are, if those things haven't changed, and how it's all a bunch of useless information now that her life no longer includes him. She wonders suddenly what sorts of things he still remembers about her. If she still has even a tiny fraction of his heart, and if that tiny fraction remembers things like her love of cotton candy grapes, or has equally visceral memories of her sitting in his lap and feeding them to him while he played Tomb Raider.

"I don't smoke," she says, and then, "well, not really. I'm getting edibles. Maybe a...what's it called? Tincture, or something. To help me sleep," she explains. She hesitates, pursing her lips. "And you're welcome. I meant it, you know. You look good. Cutest boy in Fairford still, for sure. And it's, like. Good to see you."

"Hello to you too, Malai." Lucky says, with almost instant regret at having opted for her full name rather than just Mal. He's not too sure why he had -- maybe as a sleight, a way to remind her that she's as good as a stranger to him. Or maybe it was it was a reminder to himself that he had known her as a person first, before online personas and personality shifts and the strangle of parting words dipped in poison.

He knows that they were only speaking by circumstance rather than choice, the malevolent -- emphasis on the mal -- energy radiating from her mostly passed him by like lamb's blood above the door during the Plagues of Egypt and seemed to be focused on a very interested man who kept looking in her direction despite the cold shoulder.

That was nothing new, she had always been a head turner, but it had bothered him less back in high school.

"Thanks, I think." It sounded like a compliment, but it was never easy to discern from her, which was a far cry from when he would have confidently stated he could all but read her mind. "Since when did you start smoking?"

[malmanichoti]

im a strange lipstick color im the shimmer in cheap shampoo im a shoplifted beauty product im eyeliner on the back of a hand im a blue finger from a cheap ring im glitter you cant get off your skin im beautiful in the most disgusting ways and im never going to die

[malmanichoti]

"Oh my god, like I have control over what that guy ordered," says Mal, but she's grinning smugly. "Here," she hands the other coffee to Adri and puts the candle one -- which she is so right about -- on an empty nearby table, the name 'Carter' written on the side in black permanent marker, "you have this one, I'll just buy my own. And don't be such a bitch, how do you know I didn't get you an actual present? Which you're totally not getting now, by the way."

"I don't want it. It tastes like a candle." She says as she hands it back to Mal. The fact that they'd run into one another wasn't intended but she wasn't going to find an excuse to run off despite not agreeing with what Mal had done to her best friend. Had it been anyone else, she would have rooted her on as they were a little too similar to hate her. When she looked down at the name, she narrowed her eyes. "This is the worst present ever. If you were gonna steal one, you should have taken something better."