#maliyah

[fyblackwomenart]

"Warm embrace" by Maliyah Clark

[merofthefae]

Maliyah Lycoris

Party Animal

Horticulturist

Goofball

Gay as Hell

Oops... I did it again.~

Thanks to all the cc creators: @plantainboat @asansan3 @pyxiidis @kikuruacchi @dizzyrobinsims @saruin @diu0diu @fatalrosecreations @ts4eve @atomiclight @/toskami @/grimguide (if I missed any, I apologize)

[ptxweekly]

Matt Sallee: We welcomed our miracle baby girl Maliyah Michele Sallee into the world ❤💚 She’s so perfect in every way and I’m reminded every time I look at her....

[earthmoonz]

girls night out with bliss' true blue besties ❤️

[voltttmeter]

character designs for my story “charmed” :)

[softerpixels]

happy birthday to kori's tethered... this kid literally stole her whole face!!! kenneth rolled the artistic prodigy aspiration and the self-assured trait.

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

"Ah, finally. Arkhelios. It's smaller than I imagined."

A woman and her two teenage children surveyed the land critically. For all the talk about Arkhelios on the international stage, actually stepping foot in it was underwhelming. There were a few large estates, some factories and what could questionably be defined as a small strip mall. There was lodging available at least, until the trio could find whatever magical community was always being promoted.

"Alright, children. You know the plan. We'll check into the hotel tonight and start fresh in the morning."

"Yes, Mom," the two chimed in unison.

The trio walked silently into the doors of the hotel, eyeing their surroundings with suspicion.

"Adam! Adam, over here!"

Eero and Despina Darktide waved frantically at their cousin, as if there was any chance that Adam could miss the giant coven building they were standing in front of. After some tension at Theo's house, Adam Darktide promised to at least visit with his cousins at the Arkhelios coven where they lived. It wasn't as old or fancy as Pleasantview's, but it seemed okay to Adam. Smaller covens needed smaller spaces after all.

"We can hang out by the pool," Despina said. "It's pretty quiet back here. No one really comes out here at night."

"I do have to get back soon though," Adam insisted. "My mom will be pissed if I'm late again. The last thing I need is to be grounded."

"Yeah, she's always intense when our report cards get sent home," Eero complained. "One semester we had to clean up after everyone's familars until our spellwork improved. She's not even a part of the coven here, and she still found a way to get what she wants."

"No thanks," Despina laughed. "The only expectations we have are to pass our coursework and not follow down the path of 'dark magic". Whatever that means."

"You're not wrong," Adam laughed. "Try being her son. You two are the only thing she has left of her brother, but I'm her legacy apparently. I'm willing to trade if you are."

"Oh, I learned a dark magic trick," Adam exclaimed excitedly. "My boyfriend taught me it. He's working off the blood magic textbooks that were banned centuries ago. He knows a lot of magic that used to be forbidden."

Adam beamed with pride as he snapped his fingers and a brilliant flame appeared, confined to his hand. The twins watched enviously. There was something off about the flames that they couldn't quite put their finger on.

"It's hellfire," Adam explained. "Demons supposedly use it to disable their enemies. The flames are freezing cold, like a shard of the Void flickering in their hands. Feel it, I can't make it freeze, but you can at least touch it."

Eero boldly extended his hand, completely trusting his cousin. Truthfully, Adam probably wouldn't do the same in that position; there wasn't a certainty that the flames weren't just a trick. When Eero removed his hand completely uninjured, Despina shoved her hand in the flames too.

"That's so cool," she breathed. "They teach him this stuff in school? We never learn anything like this here."

"Well, they only teach Theo," Adam stammered. "The demon sovereign sponsored him so he learns all the dangerous stuff. I'm just supposed to be memorizing chemical properties and how to summon a wand I've already summoned. It's stupid."

"You summoned that dumb wand in the textbook?" Depina gasped. "You're not old enough! Even Wanda has only produced it for a few seconds! I want to go to your school, you at least learn something there."

"Maybe you could talk to your mom?" Eero asked. "She'd listen to you, wouldn't she? We could apply for a scholarship if she doesn't have the money or...or we could get jobs at the restaurant downtown. Please, please can you ask her?"

Adam shrugged helplessly.

"I can try. She really doesn't listen to me much either. Or my dad. Or my stepdad. Last week, she called the king of Crystal Cove a 'pompous asshole' to his face. There's no reasoning with her."

"Damn. Well, hey, we're having a mixer at the academy this weekend, if you want to come," Eero offered. "It's nowhere near as fancy as your Pleasantview parties, but maybe if she drops you off, your mom can see how useless this place really is. I mean, the classes suck, but we do have a lot of fun outside of class. You'd probably like some of our friends."

"Can I bring Theo? He loves parties."

And can save me from meeting a room full of strangers on my own.

"Yeah, sure. Bring whoever you want."

[plasma-janes]

Maliyah’s Bedroom

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Reaching Hope

CW: Self-made bandages, injured, ambushed, death threats, guns, fear of child being hurt (no child is harmed), captured

Find Marc and Beringer’s story up til now right here

For @whumptober 2022, days 11, 21, 22: self-done first aid/sloppy bandages, “Take me instead”, and alt prompt 5, “Ambushed”

-

“I feel so stupid,” Beringer says, groaning as he leans forward, resting his forehead in one hand. The rock he’s sitting on freezes his ass right through his heavy canvas pants, but he ignores it. Around them, the woods are beautiful, and Beringer keeps getting distracted, watching a bird flit from one branch to another, listening to a squirrel.

It’s all real.

He’s seen all of this on TV, for sure - knew it really existed, somewhere out in the world. But he - all of the WRU pets, training maintenance and daycare and the cleaning crew who works in the higher floors where employees are allowed to see them - understood that none of it would ever be real for them.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the big playroom at the daycare, he could see the parking lot, row after row of cars parked neatly with the sun glaring off their tops, and somewhere nearly out of sight, the bright green sign for the coffeeshop most of them stopped at on their way in if they didn’t use the complimentary coffee shop in the cafeteria. There were neatly spaced trees, carefully landscaped with patches of perfect almost fake-looking grass. The playground attached to the daycare had two small saplings still held in place by twine.

He had never been allowed to see anything like this. 

It’s totally different. He knows what it means, now, to say it’s so cold it’s nipping at your nose. He knows how pine trees smell, and it’s like the candles and air fresheners but not like them at all. He can barely keep his eyes on the trail - there was a deer, a while back, and he had been so enraptured at the sight of the flick of its tail and its crashing speed through the woods that he’d literally tripped over his own feet.

Which is why Marc is currently using a pocketknife to cut off a strip of his own shirt to use as a bandage, because they’re idiots who didn’t bring a first aid kit for this walk through the woods, hoping the trail they’re taking is the right one.

“You’re not stupid,” Marc chides him, gently. 

Beringer feels something shift in his chest, a soft flutter he shoves aside. When he swallows, he feels the safe assurance of his collar around his throat. He definitely doesn’t take the chance to glance sidelong and see the slight softness of Marc’s stomach, a hint of roundness over the muscle underneath. “You just got distracted and tripped. It happens to us all.”

“I know, but… we’re so close. And of course I manage to fall over and slice my arm open on… what, a fu-... a dang tree?” 

“Dang,” intones a soft small voice, with a tone of imperious thoughtfulness.

Beringer looks over at Mallie, who is walking in a slow circle around a tree, mouth open slightly in awe as she looks at how the moss grows on one side but not the other. 

“Nice catch,” Marc says with a wink. “You’re a dad through and through, huh?”

“Not really,” Beringer says, and wonders why the idea thrills him so much, that there might be children out there who will really be his, not just borrowed and handed back and disappearing into schools as they grow older, over and over and over again.

He realizes he might get to see Mallie grow up and his throat nearly closes with awe at the thought.

“When I was a kid, I read a book,” Marc says, conversational, not noticing how Beringer feels like he’s been hit by a train driven by time, finally stopping long enough to let him on and let him stop hovering in a limbo that never goes anywhere at all. He takes Beringer’s arm in his hands, and his touch is so soft and gentle that it makes the hairs on Beringer’s arm stand up, sends a spark racing up to his shoulder, his neck, to light up his mind. 

“Hm, kids sometimes do that,” Beringer answers, teasing to cover up the tremble in his voice, and catches the telltale flush on Marc’s face. He blushes so easily, and Beringer wonders if he even knows it.

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious. Anyway, my point was-... Mallie, are you listening?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Mallie replies automatically, crouched down and poking one finger into a soft bed of green moss, upper teeth gnawing on her lower lip in thought. “I’m listening.”

“Okay. Because this is for you, too, honey. I read this book where this kid got lost in the woods, or… left there, or something. And he was trying to survive, right? Until he got rescued. And he said something about how moss only grows on the north sides of trees.”

Beringer blinks, leaning forward, wincing with a hiss as Marc starts to wrap up his arm and it stings. 

“Sorry,” Marc says, tipping his head slightly to the side as he looks up. 

Beringer very nearly leans over for a kiss, stopping himself with a reminder that he’s supposed to be telling Marc thank you and fuck off once they get to Hope.

But... maybe Marc could stay for a few days to help him adjust to life outside of the Facility. He’s never been anywhere else before this, after all… He could use the help getting up to Canada.

Rumors say if you can just cross the border, you’ll be safe to start over. He can figure out who he is once WRU can’t breathe down his neck anymore. 

“No, it’s okay, just… what were you saying about moss? Does it really only grow north?”

Marc laughs. “No, but I thought it did. And when I went hiking with my dad, when I was like eight or nine, I got incredibly lost trying to follow that advice. Moss can grow anywhere it wants, who’s going to stop it, huh? It’s older than like... every other form of life, or something. I don’t know if that’s true either, actually.” He ties a knot and leans back, still crouching. “Okay, I think you’re good now. Want to start moving again?”

“Yeah, sure. How far are we, do you think?”

“I think about another hour or so of walking should get us to the perimeter.” Marc turns, looking down at the trail marked carefully through the woods. You have to know what you’re looking for, and somehow Marc does. Beringer had asked how, but all Marc had been willing to say was that some people from Hope had been caught a few years ago, and WRU knows exactly where it is and how to get there, and chooses not to. 

Beringer tries not to think about WRU knowing where the only real sanctuary on this side of the border is. If he can just get to Canada, WRU can’t touch him there, if they even know he’s alive and didn’t die in the fire.

Mallie stands up, blinking as she looks deeper into the woods. “Daddy, there’s a man,” She says, curious and not immediately alarmed. 

Marc looks over his shoulder at her. “What, honey?”

“There’s a man,” She says, pointing.

“There’s a man?”

“He just told me to shush and stop telling you things.” She narrows her eyes. “You’re not my dad, you don’t tell me to shush!”

There’s an exhale from somewhere nearby. “Shit,” a strange male voice says.

Marc and Beringer meet eyes.

“She’s got you there,” Someone else says, higher-pitched, clearly failing at hiding their laughter.

“Oh for fuck’s-...” The first voice sounds irritated now. “Okay, fine, listen you three - don’t move!” 

Marc and Beringer turn to look in that direction.

“I said don’t move, what part of don’t move-”

“Sorry!” Marc puts his hands up, and Beringer follows suit after glancing sideways at him, eyes wide. 

People step out from behind trees in every possible direction, surrounding them, a haphazard mix of shotguns, rifles, and handguns aimed at them. Mallie is a silent still figure with wide terrified eyes.

“Daddy?” Mallie’s lips wobble.

“Oh, crap, the kid’s going to cry,” Someone says. “I hate when kids cry. I used to be a-”

“Ssssshhhh!”

Mallie’s nose scrunches up - her eyes follow suit, squinting shut, and she goes red in the face as her lips start to pull back from her teeth. Beringer knows that face.

She lets out a wail, deafeningly loud, and there’s a sudden burst of movement and motion as birds take off, startled by the racket.

“Mallie!” Marc goes for her, stops short when a rifle is aimed at his head. “That’s my daughter, please let me-”

“We said don’t move!” The man holding it snaps.

“Jesus, just let him hold her,” The woman who originally laughed says. “I can’t listen to her cry this whole time, Kevin-”

“No names! Oh for fuck’s fucking sake, are you all fucking amateurs?”

“Don’t cuss in front of a kid!”

“... Don’t cuss, what are you, twelve?”

“Please,” Marc says, hands up, dropping the pocketknife and kicking it in the direction of the man aiming the rifle. “Please, that’s my daughter, please just let me hold her, God, please...”

“I-...” The man hesitates, glances sidelong to another, then back, bracing the rifle back up. “I, I said don’t move!”

“Please-”

“Daddy,” Mallie cries, “I want my daddy!” Her voice is so desperate and scared and sad. 

“She’s just a kid.” Beringer stares, helpless and hurting, then comes to a decision. He feels like his arms and legs move through molasses as he starts to turn to grab her-

Marc beats him to it. 

Mallie’s father throws himself forward and scoops his daughter up, then drops down to the ground, curling around her with his entire body in a movement of such pure and perfect instinct that Beringer hasn’t even finished raising one hand before it’s done. 

“If you’re gonna shoot someone, just shoot me, not her!” Marc yells. “But you can’t make me not hold my little girl!”

“Oh, Christ, Kevin, just let it go,” A short man says. He looks barely adult, if that, and Beringer can see tears in his eyes, too. “He just wants to hold his kid.”

There’s a gun pressed to the back of Marc’s head, but he stays still, right where he is. Mallie’s little arms are around his neck, her face buried against him as she cries. Her sobs make Beringer’s whole body ache with the need to soothe her, but he doesn’t dare move.  

“Don’t hurt her,” Marc says, voice breathless. “Please, please don’t hurt her, she’s just a little girl… She’s never hurt anyone! Please, she’s just a baby, she’s just a baby-”

“Jesus,” Someone says, and they all look uneasy then. “What do we do?”

“Kevin, go grab Brock. Tell him the alarm was two men and a little girl on the woods trail.” 

“But-”

“Kevin. Put your gun away and do what I said. I’m Brock’s second, not you.”

Kevin, jaw working angrily, nods and runs back through the woods, headed in the direction of Hope. 

Marc clutches Mallie to his chest. “Please,” He keeps begging, and Beringer’s heart hurts as much for him as for Mallie’s terror now. “Please, please don’t hurt my daughter, I brought a runaway, I’ve got a runaway-”

There’s a pause, the people shifting uneasily as they keep their weapons aimed. The woman, a muscular, tall woman Beringer knows was a Guard Dog once, looks over at Ber himself, eyeing him up and down with suspicion. “Name and designation,” She commands, voice sharp. 

A shudder of unease ripples down Beringer’s spine. He’s always hated how the handlers demand those things.

“Beringer,” He says, and puts his own hands up, shifting from foot to foot as they all move a little closer, circling around the little group. “554897, Facility 001.” Someone gasps. Beringer closes his eyes, flinching a little at the sound. “In, um. B-Berras.”

“That’s headquarters,” Someone mutters.

“We all know that, you moron,” Someone else snaps back. 

The woman looks back at Beringer. “Finish your designation.”

“I… right.” Beringer has to take a shaky breath. “Designation Facility Platonic, Child Development.” His voice is airier than he wants it to be, and he hadn’t really considered what would happen if Hope turned out to be something other than he had dreamed. Now, though, now is the time to get away from Marc for good. 

To be on his own, and leave Marc behind to whatever Hope decides to do with him.

But...

Looking down at Marc holding his daughter, kneeling on the ground with his arms so tightly around her - thinking about how much Marc gave up to get him here, leaving his entire life behind in one fell swoop… Beringer steadies himself, and makes a different plan. “This is Handler Marc Sonders,” He says, to another soft exhale.

“Handler,” The youngest man repeats. “I-I thought they couldn’t come here-”

“They can’t,” The woman says, voice low. “It’s all right, Esteban.” Her entire demeanor changes as she looks at the younger man, softens visibly. 

Beringer clears his throat. “And this... this is his daughter Maliyah Sonders. They-... they helped me run away.” 

There’s a pause, and then someone previously behind everyone else pushes forwards. It’s a young man, willowy in build and slight, with a rounded face and close-cropped hair. He asks, voice slightly uncertain, “Handler Sonders?” 

Marc closes his eyes, breathing out, and then he looks up and searches through the small crowd of heavily armed people, each and every one ready to shoot him, until he finds who he’s looking for. To Beringer’s surprise, Marc smiles in recognition. “I remember you,” He says, softly. “You were-... 098… 09844-... 5? Platonic? Companion? Sorry, the numbers are... a lot.”

“Six,” The person answers, almost shyly. “098446. And, um. Yeah, Companion.” It’s a willowy young man with a rounded face and close-cropped dark hair. He’s lowered his gun, and it points at the ground, now, not at Marc. Not that that means he’s in any less danger - there are still twelve others holding weapons, too. “I’m Rye, now.” 

“Rye. I like that.” Marc’s voice is breathy, too. “You picked that name?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I picked it.”

“It’s a good one.” He shifts, and everyone tenses, but it’s just so he can move from crouching to sitting right down on the ground, on a soft bed of pine needles and leaves. “Did you... did you have any issues with the surgery afterward? You still had stitches last I saw you.”

“No, I didn’t. I was already mostly fine when I went to my prospective, but...” Rye grins, shy and soft. “Everything was perfect - about the surgery, I mean. The scars aren’t even very big.”

“Good,” Marc says, and it sounds like he means it. Marc’s arms are still tight around Mallie, who is slowly settling down and looking through her hair at Rye. “What... what went wrong?”

“Well... I didn’t last at my prospective’s,” Rye says, and steps forward. The others look at each other uneasily, but no one one stops him. 

Beringer moves, too, taking each step with care, until he is next to Marc, where he slowly sits down, too, leaning against Marc’s warmth in the chilly air. “I ran away.”

“I can see that,” Marc says, and someone might even chuckle. “Was she cruel?”

“No… no. But her-... her daughter was. She kept hurting me. Hitting me and... and I didn’t want to be there any longer. I left my-... I left my-... I left Mrs. Robbins a note to say goodbye, and told her it wasn’t her fault, but that if she got another one she shouldn’t let her daughter... be mean like that. I was just tired of having to lie about bruises.”

“Then I’m glad you ran,” Marc says, with firmness. “It was the right thing to do. Heck, all of you... all of you did the right thing. Pets shouldn’t even exist.”

The circle of runaways all look at each other, eyebrows raising. 

Marc sighs. “Rye... You look great.”

“I… I do?” 

“Yeah. You look like you like living here. You look... really happy.”

“I do,” Rye repeats, with his shy smile widening. “I am.” He’s clearly forgotten his gun entirely, it’s all but dangling in his hand. He turns and looks around at the assembled group. “Handler Sonders was nice, um. He was nice to me. He never… touched. Like they do. He was always nice about teaching us. He never touched.”

Beringer watches Marc wince. “No. I never… God. I’m so sorry, Rye. I’m so sorry you were hurt. All of you.”

“It’s okay,” Rye says, softly. “You were nice.”

“None of them are nice,” The ex-Guard Dog says, her lips pulled back in a sneer. “They’re all handlers.”

“She’s right. We’re-... we’re all monsters. That’s why I quit.” Marc laughs, and it’s a desperate, sad sort of hysterical laughter that only makes Mallie cling to him more tightly. Beringer puts a hand to her back, and feels it rise and fall rapidly with her terrified breathing. “Or, um. I guess I sort of faked my death? I’m not sure what I did, exactly. But when the Facility burned, Ber and I ran. I don’t-... work for WRU anymore. I hated it, anyway.”

“Bull-fucking-shit.” That’s a man’s voice, somewhere behind them, deep and hostile. Kevin must be back. “Bull. Fucking. Shit. Why didn’t you quit, if you hated it so fucking much?”

“Hey, there’s a kid here,” Someone chides. “You could control your language for five minutes!”

“You think I give a shit?” The man answers, and Beringer can hear his eyeroll in the tone of his voice. “Why didn’t he quit? Huh? Why?!”

“Not a lot of them get the option,” Someone else speaks. His voice is melodic, fluid and calm, and the whole group seems to go still and quiet with some kind of respect. He steps around in front of Marc, Beringer, and Mallie, and moves into a crouch. He’s older than Marc, with salt-and-pepper hair and a five o’clock shadow, heavily muscled arms. He isn’t holding his gun - it’s still holstered, and Beringer relaxes, just a little. “They disappear, don’t they? The handlers who quit, who don’t like it. The ones who don’t do the job. They just... vanish.”

Marc is quiet, and then slowly nods. “Yeah, so... If you’re lucky,” He says, voice low, “You sign an NDA and you never speak about it again. Like Connor Manning did. Just go, and we’re all supposed to pretend you never existed. That’s… that’s the best possible option.”

“Right.” Brock nods. “And if you’re not lucky?”

“You disappear,” Marc says. His voice is low. “They bring us all in, parade us through, to see you on the Drip, too.”

One of the runaways makes a sound like a choked sob. The others are dead silent.

“And after that?”

Marc’s jaw works, and his eyes slowly. “Then they ship you off, and a few months later you’re wearing a collar, your name is a number, and they sell you off at a private auction we’re not supposed to know about.”

Beringer turns and looks at Marc sharply. “They-... you mean-”

“If you fuck up too bad as a handler,” Marc says, nearly whispering, looking over at Beringer now. Their eyes meet. “You become a pet, too, if they catch out.”

Beringer’s heart freezes in his chest. “You what?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Brock, who seems to be in charge, tips his head to one side, curiously. “You helped him escape and you didn’t tell him what happens to you if you get caught? If we send you back the way you came from, if you ran into WRU’s recapture crew out here in the wilderness, or worse, back in the city?”

“He didn’t need to know.” Marc stares the man down, jaw set. “I knew the risks when I decided to do it.”

“Marc-... if I had known-... I wouldn’t have asked for your help-”

It’s a weird, unsettling feeling as Beringer realizes he means it when he says that. 

“It’s all right, Ber.” Marc turns to look at him. His voice is soft and soothing. “It’s okay. I knew there was a chance, that’s all. I put it in my will that my parents could take Mallie if anything happened to me. WRU makes it look like an accident, there’s no body to bury, but everyone says you’re dead. Mallie would’ve been safe. It’s just... Look, we made it here, didn’t we? You made it.”

“What happens to… to you, though?”

Marc looks back at the surrounding crowd with their weapons. “I guess that’s up to them,” He says, softly. “But… whatever it is… please. Just… don’t hurt Mallie. Whatever you’re going to do, just do it to me. Take me somewhere she can’t see, and… and just leave her out of it. Ber… Ber can take care of her-”

“Daddy, no,” Mallie cries, and tightens her grip on him.

“Ssssshhhh,” He whispers to her, and presses a kiss into her hair. “It’s okay, baby girl. It’s all right. Beringer can take care of you for a little while, if I can’t, okay? Just for a little bit.”

Mallie sniffs, hard. “I don’t wanna go with Beringer.”

“I know, but sometimes we have to do these things, don’t we? It’s okay. They just want to talk to Daddy for a while.”

There’s a long pause. 

Brock pushes himself back up to his feet. It’s Beringer he addresses. “All right. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re not expected, you used a trail nobody is supposed to know about, and you’ve got a handler with you. The first step is interrogation, and if you don’t cooperate with that-”

“Me.” Marc looks up, and his eyes glimmer with tears, but he’s resolute. “Interrogate me. I can tell you a whole lot more than Beringer can. And I have-... in my pocket. I have something in my pocket I thought might help smooth our way, and explain why we’re on the trail. Why we know about it.”

The man stands back, nods, gestures for Marc to stand. With Beringer’s help, he makes it without ever putting Mallie down. Beringer reaches into his pocket while he keeps Mallie in his arms, pulling out the USB and holding it out.

Brock takes it, frowning as he looks at it, dangling on a little nylon lanyard. “What’s on here?”

“Everything,” Marc says. “Everything WRU knows about Hope, about you. All of you. I’m currently sort of hoping WRU thinks the lib group that set the fire killed me and used my ID to get into the system.”

The assembled group goes silent and still. Brock nods, sharply, and steps backwards. “All right. Come on. It’s a long walk back to Hope with a child in your arms.” 

They end up at the center of a circle of heavily-armed runaways, walking down the trail, and Beringer realizes that, whatever happens to him next… he wants Marc with him, and Mallie, too. 

“If it’s not enough,” Marc says, voice low, shifting Mallie around so she’s more comfortable to carry, “Then you take her to Canada, and you start over, okay, Ber? Get her to call you Dad. No one will know.”

“Marc-”

“No, don’t… don’t talk. Just. If I don’t get to leave with you, you take her and you go, and give her a better life than I did.”

“You love her more than I ever could, Marc. You’re a good dad. You’re the best dad-”

“I’ve been a bad person, though. I let her grow up thinking this is all normal and okay. Take her and teach her it isn’t if I-... if I don’t get the chance. Okay? Promise me you won’t leave without her.”

Beringer looks at Mallie, back to Marc. Then he smiles, just a little. “I promise I won’t leave without you,” He says, instead.

Even now, Marc blushes when he looks away and down at the ground, trying to hide a smile. 

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @whump-tr0pes @hackles-up @orchidscript  

For whumptober: @whumpworld 

[whitmoreroyals]

A ROYAL ROMANCE

SEASON 1

Transcript under the cut

Beginning / Previous / Next

*knock* *knock*

{Karina} Oliver were you expecting anyone else?

{Oliver} I am not Mom, I am not sure who is at the door. Kids! Can you get the door, please?

{Maliyah} Ok Dad! Come on Kai let's see who it is.

{Adrianna} *gasps*

{Eliana} What are you two doing here?

{Maliyah} Tia!!

{Malakai} Ti-Ti!!

{Karina} Drea?? Que estan haciendo aqui?

What are you doing here?

{Zander} Bean??

{Andrea} Hi everyone! Ethan and I wanted to surprise you!

{Ethan} Drea told me the Thurston tree decorating is a tradition and I knew we needed to be here.

{Karina} Well you made it just in time to add the finishing touches to the tree and eat the famous tamale bites.

{Maliyah} Uncle Ethan help me add an ornament to the tree!

{Ethan} *smiles* Of course let's go.

{Maliyah} Is right here okay?

{Ethan} Yes looks great Mal.

{Malakai} *laughing* No more kisses.

{Andrea} Just one more because Tia missed you, sweet boy.

{Eliana} Ok Kai come put the star on the tree!

{Oliver} You got it, son?

{Malakai} Yup!

{Andrea} This is perfect.

{Ethan} It is.

[hoechaos]

Closed for ― @bittcrsuite feat. Maliyah Santana.

❝ So that is it then?? That's ALL you got?? ❞

[villereals]

girl-boss besties go to the gym ✨

[saturngalore]

folasade collection 🪴

i really wanted to do something special for black history month by collaborating with another black free cc creator so i teamed up with the incredible @yuyulie to create the folasade collection! named after the wonderful folasade “sade” adu, the folasade collection is an earthy, bohemian, and neo-soul inspired collection with 10 items that are perfect for your nature loving, free-spirited, and eclectic sims! pls download yuyulie’s side HERE (it’s amazing!!)

download my side via simsharefile (sfs) or on patreon - ALWAYS FREE!

in-depth details and cas pictures below!

for this collection, i created 3 different braided hairstyles (10 versions in total): the imani double braided buns (3 versions), amala high braided ponytails (3 versions), and the maliyah afro with a braided front (4 versions). each hair has a version (v1) without the side braids, a version (v2) that is compatible with yuyulie’s beautifully designed hair beads that can be found in the piercing section, and a version (v3) that has the side braids but with the base game wooden beads. the maliyah afro has an extra version (v4) that is a fuller and slightly larger version of the v1 afro. enjoy! 🫶🏾

base game compatible (bgc)

maxis palette (24 swatches)

teen-elder

fem frame (it’s enabled it for both frames)

not hat compatible (some accessories can fit!)

clipping might occur with the side braids (depending on a sim’s face, earrings, and/or body shape)

maliyah afro v4 slightly high poly (12k)!!

custom thumbnails

disallowed for random

all lods

please tag me if you do use my cc! i would absolutely love to see it! also, please let me know if you encounter any issues with my cc! here’s my tou. tysm! <3

tysm to cc rebloggers! @public-ccfinds @sssvitlanz

[soulc-hilde]

Game Shakers / Ch. 03

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

Pairing: Eminem x OFC!

Warning(s): Cursing, Drug Abuse, Racial Discrimination, Sexual Assault, more may be on the way as the story progresses

Summary: 2000s is quite the highlight between the fashion and rise of pop culture. Seemingly the new faces of shock value, rapper Marshall Mathers and rockstar King Woods finds a common ground amongst the unnecessary bullshit.

2019

“When I say that Marshall is a charmin’ son’f a bitch, I fucking mean it,” King laughs, shaking her head.

“Why is that?”

“So, after the VMAs, there was an after party, right?” She rhetorically asks. “I hate those damn things with my soul, but we had to stick it out until we were allowed to go home.”

A huge smile begins to grow across her face, “Matteo had made a deal with me that day and it was, if I could stay there for like… half an hour, I could leave early and Marshall walks into the party…”

1999

Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, N*SYNC, and whoever the fuck else crowded surrounded the venue on top of the heaping bodies of their plus ones and management teams, maybe even sneaky fan and paparazzi here and there.

Sitting in a section on the 2nd, per King’s request, the sixtet drank and made jokes about… well, they made not so nice jokes. They people watched from the balcony, amused at how such televised royalties could act so trashy under the influence. It was so stupid. This entire shit-tick was stupid.

Nursing her beer, she added the occasional hums into the conversation as her friends actively talked. “Fuck, work,” Matteo smiled, “we can talk about it later. Iris, Tink, how’s your lovers?”

The two laughed, shaking their heads at the mocking sounds of kissing. Tink spoke first, “Carson’s doing fine. I’m sure he lost his mind when we won our awards and performed. He’s like our #1 fan, he just needs the fucking styrofoam finger.”

They laughed, picturing the 6’7” sized man jumping with that damn finger on his hand - that is, if there was one big enough for his hands. Irish then chimed in, “Terrance is good, too. We’ve been hustling about, getting our shit in order for the wedding.”

“Speaking of which,” Maliyah trailed, “did you guys speak on making your relationship public or keeping it private?” Iris nodded, “we want to go public, but we’re thinking about doing it after the wedding.”

Everyone nodded before continuing. King glanced over the balcony to meet a pair of cerulean eyes staring up at her. Paired with such beautiful features was bleach blond hair and slightly chapped lips that sat in a natural pout. A small smile stretched across her face and before she could stop herself, she waved him up.

With a small smile of his own, he sent a nod her way and made his way to the stairs with Dre and Proof following behind. He weaved around the crowd, never leaving her own. Just footsteps away from her table, he nearly started speed walking to sit beside her.

“Uh, hey,” he greeted softly, chubby cheeks pulled back to reveal a small smile and hidden dimple.

Charmed, King leaned against the booth, smiling. “Howdy,” she laughed, sipping her drink. "How'd you like your first award show?" He shrugs, eyes bouncing around the venue to avoid her dark ones.

"It's a'ight," he answered, "it's crowded and the whole carpet thing is stupid as hell." King snorted, "you ain't say nothin' but a word. At our first event, journalists were calling me a bitch all because I couldn't be bothered to play stupid."

The two shared a laugh. Marshall fumbled with a loose thread on his button up, debating on his next move when he suddenly blurted: "Just like how that reporter tried to get you slandering my name, huh?"

Instantly, the two perk up, waiting for the other to make their move. King made her's first, setting her drink down with a sigh. "I'm guessing she then snitched away? If there's one thing not alot are warned when signing their life away, these industry folks are snakes."

"From your colleagues in the business down to the reporters," she continued, shaking her head, "you never know who's willing to switch up at the drop of dime."

He added on, "but you and the others didn't. Y'all could've written me off as every name in the headlines and walked off, stirring shit just to stir shit, but you didn't. Why?"

King bit her lip, memories of her own encounters with the phonies of Hollywood came flooding in. "I've had my fair share of sellouts and backstabbers. I mean, look at the genre I mainly partake in... it's a field of white men projecting their lies and deceit onto us because we're women who aren't afraid to strum a guitar."

"I 'ppreciate it," he hummed, "truly. Speaking of you strummin' a guitar, how'd you even get into all of this anyways? Not to sound like those who wish on my downfall, but wouldn't rock be considered a 'white genre'?" His fingers quoted around the ridiculous phrase.

King smirked, "not really. the genre was created off of blues and jazz, much like country. Hearing us on the radio was far better than Chuck Berry or Little Richard on stage all because they were black and then Elvis came along. Now, flash forward to right now."

Marshall nodded, smirking, "don't tell me you're a country girl. I could handle the whole rock look, you look fine as hell, but country? Like, yeehaw? Oh, nah." King fell into a guffaw, her head falling back against the booth as he watched with satisfaction.

"You're goofy as hell, man," she wiped her eyes. "First off, your yeehaw was off. Secondly, so what if I'm a country girl? Don't tell me that a little accen' can easily push ye' away."

He bit his lip, eyeing her down with a charming side grin. "Mhm," he nodded, "never mind." She raised an eyebrow, "wha'chu mean? I already got'chu thinkin', huh?" She laughed, "regardless, I'm not a country girl, I was raised more in the city than the countryside unlike my parents."

"What'a'bout you? I know, fo'so you're a city boy," she giggled. Marshall playfully smacked his lips, "shut up. I'm from, uh, Detroit. I lived in the trailer park, mostly." King nods, listening closely.

He shrugged, "I mean, I have family in the south. They're from Missouri, I've lived back and forth, but spent most of my time in Detroit." She raised an eyebrow, leaning back, "Missouri roots? I've never been with a Missouri boy before."

"Oh?" Marshall playfully leaned back, his hand laying flat on his heart. "So, I'm takin' you want'a piece of me?" King snickered, bitting the inside of her cheek as a desperate measure to hide her smile. "Never said that. You're just new to me."

He raised an eyebrow now, "oh, so white boys being nice to you is new? Tell me more." King silently side-eyes the younger man, cheesing. Breaking their staredown, Matteo nodded his head at King with a soft smile. "30 minutes is up, King, you can head for the hotel, if you want to."

She nodded, sending him a silent thanks. "What does that mean?" Marshall asked. "Is that an escape plan or somethin'?" She laughed, "yeah. Somethin' like that. Matteo and I usually agree that I stick around this bullshit for 30 minutes and then I can head home."

"You're really not a fan of these things, are you?" He acknowledged her truth. She shaked her head, "if I could hate people, I would. If you want, we can hang out somewhere else. I don't have to go back to the hotel."

Marshall sent a small smile her way, "I'm not gonna bother you or anything like that?" King smiled back, "you couldn't, even if you tried." He nodded, "lead the way, then. I'm not picky." The two leave, sending quick waves while ignoring the joking catcalls.

He couldn't believe it, women was a sore topic for him as he tended to lay all the trauma from his mother and the inherited toxicity of Kim onto every other woman in the world, but King gifted him a different perspective. There was an obvious edge to her, it was like some puzzled code, but she didn't allow it to live life through her.

2019

"I don't publicly speak on much when it comes to King and I, and for a reason," Marshall sighs, speaking with every thought. "But, that night was probably the best night of my life back then."

"Since your overdose, you've stated before that there's a number of things from the past you just can't remember. Would say that it's the same for all of your memories with King?"

Marshall nods, "every moment I had with her in the start, I remember. From our good moments to our bad ones, I can think of them and smile. That may be because I always associated her with happiness and relief, or uh, a sense of comfort. I've never had that as a child and I never felt that with Kim."

"Would you say that night, is the night that you fell in love with her?'

"Surprisingly," he pauses, "no. No, that wasn't the night that I fell in love with her."

Taglist: @slytherinroyalty16

Series Masterlist

[leafblis]

Maliyah Download | Public 7/28

credit to all the cc creators!

Download here

[mokah]

sim dump # 6

i’ve been m.i.a. because of work. i will be back eventually but for now i am leaving you with these sims right here. i hope you like them! think of them as a late simblreen treat.

each sim comes with one outfit. traits and aspiration have been randomized. the rest is up to you!

sfs links: (from top left) jun | noelle | maliyah | farah

mediafire links: jun | noelle | maliyah | farah