amypharos
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The gloves are exactly the right size when she’s eight, and a little small at ten. Age eleven, the first chill breeze slinks through the garden with dead leaves in its mouth like a grey street cat, unbidden, proudly feral. Rumi can’t get her gloves on. The narrow bite of the opening tight around her knuckles.
It’s a silly thing to cry about but it feels—it feels—oh she doesn’t know.
Bad. A little bit. Maybe.
Bookmarked by amypharos
03 Jul 2026
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But the texture of the couch under her sweating palms scratched violently at something that had always been loose in Rumi’s mind. Something in her fingers clung to the ease of hiding next to these two women. Something wanted to howl but was so deeply buried all it could do was bite at its own flesh. Frustration was clawing at the back of the empty hollow feeling. Normally couch time helped. Normally the laughter started to fill her up again. It gave Rumi something to hold onto until she wasn’t drowning.
Or
Rumi had a process. Something that never failed to make her feel better. The girls were never suppose to know.
Bookmarked by amypharos
24 Jun 2026
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Rumi tries to leave, just like she's wanted to for years.
Bookmarked by amypharos
21 Jun 2026
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when life gives you patterns (have a gender crisis) by JacksonCalico
Fandoms: KPop Demon Hunters (2025)
20 Jun 2026
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Summary
Rumi was a lot of things. An orphan and an Idol, a hunter and a half-demon.
The first things were known to the whole world and the second only to the people who mattered. Those things were fine, Rumi had always known those things to be true. They were givens, the factual truths about their life. There was no need to think otherwise, this had always been what they were told, that was how they were always supposed to be.
That was the easy part. This wasn't.
Because Rumi was a lot of things, but a woman wasn't one of them.
Series
- Part 4 of how (not) to solve a scandal
Bookmarked by amypharos
21 Jun 2026
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Summary
Laying there in the dirt, bleeding out, Rumi thought of Mira and Zoey. Not backstage. But before. She thought of all her most cherished memories, all of which included them. Mira’s suffering from their “disguises” utter lack of fashion sense. Zoey rattling off facts about whatever her current hyperfixation was. Late night meals in the studio. Mira’s searching eyes that always saw more than Rumi wanted to show. Zoey’s teasing grin that never failed to make Rumi smile no matter how she felt.
Her girls.
She had had such a good life with them. She was lucky to have had them. Everything else was worth it, for the time she got with them. She just wished she hadn’t done so much damage to them, but she couldn’t help being selfishly grateful for the peace they gave her.
Rumi choked on a final breath before it all stopped.
She was done. It was done.
She wasn’t done.
One second she was laying on the ground and the next she was standing, air whipping past her. It was daytime. She was on the train. Mira was talking.