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WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING! 🐇
1902 / IT'S CARROT CONFETTI HONOUR OF YOUR JOYOUS OCCASION.

The bunny scotch has bent down ears perked, waistcoat slightly crooked and yes, i see you! Happy celebration to you! Much like Peter Rabbit slipping past the hedgerows (with Flopsy and Mopsy trying ever so properly to follow), we have gathered our brightest thoughts and tucked them carefully into this celebration do mind the crumbs, and oh dear, let us hope no gardener is watching.

Bringing a cup of tea, chipping down the sweets, sugar dust upon our paws, we shall quite forget the tick of the clock whenever you are here, for joy thumps louder than time itself. Hereby, to you, the ones sharing this teacup moment with us: @Ningrounds and @RosierGateau. May your days be lively as a meadow dash and your heart always safe within our little burrow.

With paws full of affection,
Tale of @Mondcroft

The crowd was louder than usual that night—waves of voices filling the venue as the stage lit up for DAY6’s concert. Up front, Sungjin stood steady with his guitar, YoungK settled into his bass line with ease, and Wonpil lingered behind the keyboard, ready to color the entire set with his melodies.

And at the back—Kiiru’s Dowoon. Seated behind his drum kit, sticks in hand, posture relaxed but focused. The kind of calm that only came from doing this over and over again—until it became second nature. It should’ve felt routine. But then—his eyes shifted slightly to the side. Mondcroft’s Carmen. Already there. Too close to the stage equipment, holding a tambourine she clearly wasn’t supposed to have, looking way too confident for someone who wasn’t even part of the lineup.

Kiiru’s Dowoon frowned a little. “Itu dari mana?” Mondcroft’s Carmen lifted it casually. “Nemuuu.” “That’s not convincing.” “Ya udah jangan diyakinin.” He let out a quiet breath, just as the intro began to build from the front. And then—he dropped the beat. Sharp. Steady. Controlled. The rhythm carried the entire performance, grounding the music as it expanded across the stage.

Kiiru’s Dowoon moved effortlessly, each hit landing right on cue, locking everything into place. Until—cling. cling. Off-beat. His gaze flicked sideways. “...tempo.” “I know,” Mondcroft’s Carmen said, still tapping. “That is not knowing.” “It’s style.” “It’s wrong.” She grinned, completely unfazed, adjusting slightly—still off, still loud, but now very intentionally so. Kiiru’s Dowoon scoffed, his snare hitting a bit sharper than before. “Fokus sana,” Mondcroft’s Carmen muttered. “Gue fokus. Lo yang ganggu.” “Multitasking dikit napa.” “I’m playing, not babysitting.” The music didn’t falter—but the small back-and-forth slipped naturally between beats, quick and familiar, like it had always been there.

At some point, Mondcroft’s Carmen stepped closer, fully committing—shaking the tambourine like she belonged on stage just as much as anyone else. Still off. Still confident. Kiiru’s Dowoon shot her a look. “Balikin sebelum gue lempar stick.” “Coba aja.” He lifted one stick slightly—just enough to make a point—then dropped it again, choosing to stay in rhythm. “...nanti aja,” he muttered. “Takut,” she replied instantly. “Professional.” “Beda tipis.” By the final chorus, everything peaked.

The lights burned brighter, the crowd louder, the sound fuller. Kiiru’s Dowoon leaned into it, every movement sharper, every beat landing harder—completely locked in despite the chaos just a few steps away. Final hit. CRASH. The sound rang out, followed by a surge of applause that filled the entire space. For a brief moment, everything slowed. Kiiru’s Dowoon exhaled, shoulders relaxing as he glanced to the side again. Mondcroft’s Carmen was still there. Tambourine still in hand. Looking way too proud. He pointed at it. “Balikin.” “No.” “Itu bukan punya lo.” “Sekarang punya gue.” He stared at her for a second, unimpressed. “...lo nyusahin tau gak?” Mondcroft’s Carmen tilted her head, grin widening. “Tapi seru kan?” A pause. Kiiru’s Dowoon clicked his tongue, looking away—failing to hide the small grin that slipped through. ”...dikit.” “NAH.”

He stood up from his seat, spinning one stick before lightly tapping the tambourine once. “Masih off.” “Ya ajarin.” “Gamau.” “Pelit.” “Capek.” Mondcroft’s Carmen laughed, shaking the tambourine again—still off, still loud, still very much her. And this time, Kiiru’s Dowoon didn’t even bother correcting it. He just shook his head, stepping off the stage as the noise of the concert slowly settled behind him. Because honestly—kalau Mondcroft’s Carmen tiba-tiba on beat, that would’ve been way more suspicious. Off-beat, ribut, gak jelas—but somehow, exactly what Kiiru’s Dowoon expected every single time.