Latest Posts by musebymidnite - Page 2

the Artist posture™️

I lied again! My first sevika fic will be for black fem readers <: and you know you could imagine Mel there too I didn’t know which one to write for

I’m cooking rn so I think I’ll actually feel okay enough to post it

I'm sorry but I'm thinking of Sevika who dances with you with the slow music that plays in the kitchen as you cook, but for once, you want to let her explore her feminity so without telling her, you step out of the bedroom in a white shirt and black formal pants. Sevika's flabbergasted when you grab her waist, your hand interlacing with her flesh fingers. Blushing intensely, she grabs ahold of your shoulder gently with her metallic fingers, she can't even look you in the eye. Cute.

Should I write a fic on this on @littlelovelunette?

sevika gaining some healthy weight when life's not so bar anymore:)

Melvika week day 2 prompt: Muse

More sketches for Melvika.

🌸 From One Mother’s Heart – Please Read 🌸

My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.

But life had other plans.

War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.

There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.

I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.

Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.

This is my life.

This is my daughter’s life.

And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.

Why I’m Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.

That’s why I keep going.

I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.

How You Can Help: 🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity 🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources 🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war

💛 If you can, please support our journey here:

Chuffed

I Am Saja – A Mother Holding On Through the Return of War

My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didn’t have to live t

If you can’t give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.

From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war. But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.

I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.

Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.

With love and endless gratitude

ITS MELVIKA WEEK BABY!! the prompt is kisses!

@melvikaweek2025

Day 25 of learning how to do digital art:

Melvika Week: Day 1 — Kisses

Before mel leaves for noxus, she gives sevika a long tender kiss as her goodbye.

It's melvika week on Twitter! So, here is my day 1 submission!

…does anyone draw the lads guys as women…????

specifically…Raf, Zayne and Sylus actually

I know Sylus would make a fine ass woman !!! raaaaahhhh !!!!!

Reminding myself i can do something besides animation 😅

─── put it straight

content warnings: heavy angst, substance abuse (shimmer), violence, brief suggestive descriptions - read at your own discretion

summary: you break up with sevika. she falls apart.

wc: 1.7k

"i don't think love can change, how could all that passion change? you must be lying, but if you're not tell me you don't love me now if you leave me, i'll end up like this could you still leave me, even if i end up like this?" — (G)I-DLE. “Put It Straight (Nightmare Ver)"

Sevika tells herself she doesn’t need you. And if she ever did, she never will again. 

Forget everything. She’s good at forgetting. Since a tender age she’s become an expert at burying unwanted memories in the bottom of a bottle. 

Seven days since you left. Seven things to forget. 

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The first thing is the sound of your voice. 

She hears it everywhere. It's the hardest thing to escape. In crowded marketplaces, on the harbor, in her dreams. 

The last thing you said to her before you walked out the door. The words like stones sinking into water, disappearing into the murky depths, never to be retrieved. 

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t save you from yourself.”

When Sevika heard this, she had only laughed. What was it supposed to mean? Who said she needed to be saved? 

You were the one who didn’t understand. 

Your anger. The fear in your eyes whenever she stumbled home with the pink blaze in her pupils. She didn’t get it. She didn’t get the way your voice grew tight, the way your hands shook as you bandaged her injuries, wiped the blood from her face. 

If you were afraid of her, it would have been different. But it wasn’t that. You were afraid for her. 

She can’t eat, the food sticks in her throat. She can’t sleep, you return to her mercilessly, and sometimes you’re angry at her the way you were when you left, sometimes she wakes up with the ghost sting of your palm against her cheek or the sound of your voice still ringing in her ears. 

You said, “I can’t save you from yourself.”

In her dreams the words change. Now you’re laughing at her, hysterically, feverishly. 

You’re saying, “I don’t love you. I never loved you. I should’ve seen this coming.” 

She wants to tell you not to leave. Over and over again she watches you walk out the door, but she can’t say a word. Not a single fucking word. 

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The second thing is your touch. 

The way your tongue felt between her legs, the way you dug your nails into the muscles of her thighs as she ground herself against your open mouth, making sounds that she would have been ashamed to hear from herself if she weren’t so far gone. 

The way you kissed her, clung to her like she would save you. The way you wrapped your legs around her waist and planted kisses along the scars on her body, the way you whispered of her beauty into her skin, making her shiver. 

The tender way you held her at night, the way she lay her head in the pillow of your lap and let her eyes close as you stroked her hair. 

The feeling of your grip on her arm when you walked through the streets to keep up with her long strides. As if you needed her. As if you couldn’t stand to let her go. 

Sevika doesn’t look for it anywhere else. She doesn’t go anywhere near Babette’s. She can’t. Every face is loathsome because it isn’t yours. The very thought of another woman on her skin makes her nerves burn. 

She wants you, damn it, she misses the warmth of your back against her stomach when you were curled up against her. 

The silence of an empty apartment, the chill of an empty bed, is there anything worse than that? 

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The third thing is the rain. 

It was pouring in torrents the first night she had to sleep without you. The wind howled between the buildings and the thunder roared with a vengeance above the silent neon city. 

Sevika listened to the sheets of rain hurling against the grimy glass of the windows and wondered where you were sleeping. If you were thinking about her at all. If you had been caught in the rain, or if you were safe somewhere warm and dry. 

She tried not to think about the way you’d towel her hair dry if she was caught in a storm on the way home, saying sweet nothings, nagging that she’d catch her death even though both of you knew Sevika does not get sick. The laughs you shared as you ran the hot baths for her after a grueling day of shipments and warehouse checks for Silco. 

You would say with a smile, “Where would you be without me? Hmm?” 

Sevika doesn’t know. She genuinely doesn’t know. 

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The fourth thing is Shimmer. 

Before she met you, Shimmer meant nothing more to her than a necessity, a tool. Rip it through her bloodstream, make everything more efficient. 

When you were with her, it was the subject of every fight—she couldn’t understand why you were so hellbent on keeping her from using it, why you pleaded with her time and time again not to use it, why you insisted that anyone else could fuck themselves over with Shimmer for all you cared, just as long as it wasn’t her. 

“It’s killing you,” you would say. “I can’t lose you. You’re all I’ve got.”

After you leave, it becomes a lifeline. She keeps the capsules in a belt slung over her shoulder. Takes them with complete abandon. Three at a time in every fight just to feel like she was somebody, just to feel invincible the way she had before you came along and unravelled her, made her fall to pieces, then left the fragments on the floor. 

When she fights on Shimmer, she can leave herself for a little while. Never mind the comedown. Blood, everything is drenched in blood now. Blood on her hands, blood under her nails, blood staining her clothes, the tang of it in her mouth, the vivid blaze of it in her eyes, roaring in her ears. 

She becomes the monster you told her she was not. 

Without you, there is nothing to keep her human. Nothing tying the fragile organ of her heart to something real.  

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The fifth thing is pain. 

Maybe she’d gotten used to having you patch her up. Maybe she’d grown to take it for granted that there’d be someone to look after her when she stumbled in bloody and broken, head reeling with the comedown from Shimmer. Someone to force her to slow down. 

Now as she leans against the wall in the darkness of an alley, breathing through broken ribs, as she fumbles for the syringe of Shimmer that will mend the bones even as it poisons her blood, she tries not to think of you. She tries not to think of what you’d say, how you’d look at her. 

You were so kind. You were so kind to her. 

No one will ever care about her like that again. 

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The sixth thing is the loneliness. 

It doesn’t hit her as hard during the day, when she’s on her feet from the crack of dawn to nightfall, running jobs for Silco and keeping the goons at the harbor in check. 

Only when she finds herself on the floor of the apartment surrounded by empty bottles and hollow Shimmer capsules, only when she catches glimpses of her reflection, the haggard eyes and unwashed hair, does it sink in that you have left her and she is alone again. 

Have you moved on? Over and over again she wonders. Have you moved on already? Have you forgotten her already? 

Her devotion to you had always frightened her a little. The way you looked at her and seemed to see her. You saw her for who she was, you peeled back the layers of toughened skin until she stood bare and vulnerable before you. You saw beyond her roughness, her silence. You saw her—the cracks in her skin, the broken parts, the ugly parts, the hidden parts. Yet you stayed. 

She had driven you away, and she knows this. Back then it had seemed so easy. She had seen you as a distraction from the cause, she tried to tell herself that it was a good thing you left. 

Why, why, then, does it feel like something vital has been torn out of her insides? 

Why does it feel like something in her snapped when you shut the door behind you, why does it feel like she is constantly bleeding internally? 

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The seventh thing… The seventh thing is you. 

She needs to erase you, wash you away in the cruel waves of time. 

Even if it means leaving it all behind. The soft moments, the tender moments, the moments where she felt, even for a brief while, that she was something worthy of love. 

She works harder than ever. She doesn’t let herself sleep. She doesn’t go near the places she used to go with you—she doesn’t even walk through the Last Drop anymore, because that’s where you met her—she reaches Silco’s office by the back stairs. 

She drinks to forget, until your face begins to blur in her memory like a ruined watercolor portrait. She drinks to swallow the sound of your voice. 

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t save you from yourself. 

DON’T LEAVE. DON’T LEAVE DON’T LEAVE DON’T LEAVE, FOR JANNA’S SAKE DON’T LEAVE. 

She fights to feel something, taking on Silco’s assignments with cold, grim eagerness. The heat of Shimmer rippling in her veins. She becomes something else. Her vision distorts, her throat scraped dry from the yells of rage, her mech arm like a separate creature, insatiable in its bloodlust. 

I can’t save you from yourself.

Who said you had to? Who said who said who said? All you had to do was stay. 

This is all your fault. 

I don’t love you, I never did.

Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave. 

The body falls at her feet. The Shimmer drains from her arm. As it powers down she feels her body crumple. She sees the corpse, she sees the hollow eye of the moon above the buildings, watching her without comment. As she sinks down against the wall, as her consciousness begins to slip from her, she finds herself mumbling your name. 

She can’t forget. She will never forget.

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end note: i swear this was gonna end well but then it turned into a monstrosity of angst.. i'm so sorry. blame (g)i-dle. i've been listening to this song on repeat

Same time next week?

Vaquero Sevika sketches I'm not gonna finish

I saw someone from high school that I used to be like DEEPLY IN LIKE with today at work. They had their gf (she’s…very pretty) with them. But I always get annoyed when I see the ex crush bc my brain was so strongly like attached to them in school it left a lasting reaction…so whenever I do see them I feel like I’m gonna have a panic attack !! which is annoying bc I don’t like them anymore anywayyyyssss

ᯓ★ Sevika laid her head on your lap, her dark hair splayed out on the fabric of your sundress as she stared up at you, the sunlight deliciously kissing her pretty grey eyes. She took a deep breath, this was a much needed alone time she needed with you. Sevika had her muscular bicep wrapped around your waist, feeling your slender fingers comb through her dark hair.

ᯓ★ “You look so beautiful, my love,” you said and gently untangled her hair. “Mhm?” Sevika tilted her head as she absently drew patterns on your back and waist. You noticed the few gray hairs here and there, smiling as you stroked her hair. “I'm ageing, aren't I?” Sevika asked, her voice taking on a lower tone. “Yeah.” You mumbled, “But that's natural and I love you.”

ᯓ★ Sevika gave you a little sad smile, “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Sevika would learn to do her black girlfriend’s natural hair so that their arms would not ache. I’m talking two strand twists, three strand twists, blow outs, box braids, Fulani braids, boho faux locs!!! Especially if they had 4C type hair, wash day would be handled by Sevika. Gone are the days you spend $80 on hair care with your hard earned coin on hair products!!! Sevika will get the right supplies and refuse to let you pay. I feel like she’d even put little accents of her favorite colors in it — maybe beads or little gold/silver wired pieces. She’d also definitely be concentrating hard core on the act of doing your hair. Don’t be shocked when she keeps shifting your head back into its proper position (maybe a bit too tenderly). She will kiss the top of your head apologetically after though.

Melvika with mechanic Sevika and frequent customer Mel. Mel owns a vintage ford thunderbird (idc shes totally a classic car kind of person) that she gets maintained more often than necessary because the buff butch mechanic lets her watch while she works, and explains the process. Mel may or may not pretend to be more clueless than she is in order to hear Sevika’s explanations (she loves nerds).

Sevika is new to the shop and thankful that she’s already amassing a clientele, though she is worried about one customer, who seems to be throwing away money to get simple attainable things done. Sevika is torn between helping her out by showing her how to do some of these things herself, and selfishly allowing her to keep coming to see her more often. Though Sevika keeps getting in trouble at work for allowing Mel to sit in the shop with her. So one night she caves and asks Mel out to dinner, under the pretenses of “helping her out”.

Punk Sevika part 2. ✨

Patreon version

a small spoiler of my art for jayvik zine~

Super quick drawing of Mel in Mucha’s style

a wandering knight, drawn to the quiet of the forest. her touch may be a blessing or a curse.

Okay homos !!! I changed my mind and the first fic I will post for Sevika x reader will be vampire related !

and maybe will be built upon in the future depending on the reaction <3 plz stand by

medieval au because i'm so normal about them

(prints!)

My Journey to Escape the War in Gaza

My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.

The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.

I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.

Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.

I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.

Chuffed

Help Abdelmajed Escape Gaza and Rebuild His Life

My name is Abdelmajed, and I am a survivor of the war in Gaza. Everything I once knew has been taken away—my home, my safety, and the people

Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.

Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.

Vetted by @gazavetters

"I won't fail. I swear it."

Hexcorized Jayce Talis

SILENT HILL 2 — [ 4/? ]

dont cry ok? there is the sun and there isthe ocean and there are butch gay women

Mel is my Barbie to dress up

I really don't know what the story is with this but it was a fun value study hehe