denyingit: (OKAY BYE)
Rumi ([personal profile] denyingit) wrote2025-07-09 02:08 pm
Entry tags:

💫 SEASONS 💜 IC INBOX 🎤 un: Pop Star Royalty

 
ACTION VIDEO  VOICE  TEXT  DELIVERY

colorsinmyhead: (I lived two lives)

[personal profile] colorsinmyhead 2025-08-26 02:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[They'll claim Derpy just like with a hoodie, it might have been Jinu's but now it was fair game for Rumi too which totally meant for Zoey and Mira as well. Zoey trusted Rumi completely, but her songs were still pretty personal. Mainly she was a bit nervous because she probably should have spoken to Rumi and Mira about agreeing to write a song for the embodiment of death before just accepting.

But shakes would totally make it better right? No one could be too upset or mad with something cold and sweet in their hand.]

That sounds like a good idea. We might need them.
colorsinmyhead: (pic#17956344)

[personal profile] colorsinmyhead 2025-09-01 03:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[Zoey’s eyes go wide as the magenta smoke clears, leaving behind the tiny striped cub looking far too pleased with himself. She bites down on a smile, but it breaks through anyway, soft and helpless as she watches him pad in circles like he’s showing off his new size. The oversized bell on his collar clinks faintly with each step, a sound almost too delicate for something that had just been a towering, purring presence a second ago.]

You’re… ridiculously unfair. How am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like that?

[She crouches down automatically, messenger bag slipping a little against her shoulder as she wiggles her fingers toward him. He barrels straight into her hands, tumbling and rolling before flopping against her knees with a chirrup that’s definitely not tiger-like, but Zoey can’t bring herself to care. Her heart squeezes tight, full in a way that almost makes her dizzy. She scratches behind his ears with both hands, hair falling forward as she laughs.]

Alright, banana split for the baby prince. Guess we don’t get a say anymore.

[Zoey glances up toward Rumi, her cheeks flushed both from crouching and the weight of the moment. She tugs lightly at the strap of her bag again, grounding herself, and the familiar nerves buzz back in like static under her skin. The lyrics in those notebooks suddenly feel heavier, sharper, like they’re burning a hole straight through the canvas bag and into her. But Rumi’s grin is so steady, so sure, and Zoey feels her chest unclench just enough.]

I… um. After the shakes—if you still want—I can show you the song. I mean I have like three so far, but there's the one I need some feedback on. Actually two, maybe, I'm not sure the other one's ready for a Rumi look over.

[Her voice comes out softer than she means, but she doesn’t look away. Not this time. Even if her stomach does a little flip as she says it.]