Congratulations For The 100 Followers, Pandoa! It Was So Difficult To Decide A Character But I'll Go

୨ diasomnia as royal au tropes ୧

♯— silver, malleus draconia, sebek zigvolt, lilia vanrouge

cw: gn!reader, royal!au, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, unedited.

notes: this is just silly brainrot after rewatching barbie mvs. likes and reblogs are appreciated!!!

silver ⇾ the knight

“your highness, we must make haste!” silver bursts into your room at the edge of night, shaking you awake with concerning urgency as shouts and screams echo around the castle walls in a resounding cacophony. you’re barely rousing from your slumber as he ushers some sort of footwear on you in an arduous manner, grabbing your hand firmly. “i’ll escort you to safety--the castle has been invaded! come, quickly!”

when your homeland is overthrown by another kingdom and the the people of your country revolt against you, silver, your most valiant knight, is the only one who stands firmly by your side.

your footsteps are silent, running through the halls; his steps are clanky and armour-clad, leading the opposing-side straight to you. they have the advantage in numbers—you know that silver can’t combat them all.

blade drawn across his chest, silver demands for you to leave him behind. you know that is not a request, but an order—the first one he has ever made. even being the most esteemed chevalier in your ranks, he has never asked for anything of the royal family, content with silently fuffiling his role. there’s a sort of inconsolable pain that comes with knowing this was the only thing he’d ever ask of you, but the decision was final. you must go. his earnest expression tells you he won’t change his mind.

you could never doubt where silver’s faith lay. it was and always would be with you. that fact need not be uttered, for it was expressed with his actions. even now, he not once let any foe lay a hand on you; silver was the epitome of resolute and devoted, from the very beginning till the very end.

(when he battles to the brink of exhaustion and takes the final blows all in your stead, silver thinks back to the warmth you had given him. it’s only then that he realises the loyalty he pledged to you felt a lot more like love.)

“no matter who it is against you, or what it is you’re facing, i will forever stand by your side. that is my oath to you.”

malleus draconia ⇾ a loveless royal marriage

“happy anniversary, your excellency!” there’s cheers from all of those residing in the manor. malleus entwines his fingers with yours, squeezing it slightly, the affectionate gesture just enough to satisfy his grandmother and the other guests. once they are pleased with the act, he searches for some sort of joy in your eyes—but there is nothing. the people were congratulating a sham.

malleus doesn’t dare to look at you for too long, because it’s plain to see you’re devoid of life. you don’t love him. he knows you don’t love him. this arrangement killed the person he fell in love with years ago. he can’t recall the last time he’s heard you laugh genuinely, doubling over with endearing crinkles in the corners of of eyes and hands on your knees to steady yourself—you were so carefree. he wishes he had gotten a portrait done so he could remind himself of what you used to be, and not what you are now.

there are so many guests, people you recognise and people you do not, bounding up to the two of you to give you gifts and blessings. you’re giving non-convincing smiles as you chatter, shaking hands and receiving hugs. you don’t want this. you don’t want to be here.

maybe malleus notices your discomfort, as his hand hovers over the midsection of your back. it never touches.

he knows you are not happy. that’s why he pretends to not see the absence of a wedding band on your left-finger, the love letters addressed to another prince, and your hushed preparations at midnight to run away. (it’s ludicrous how the closer you get to leaving him, the more lively you become. you are coming back, you are blooming, but not under his touch—under somebody else’s.)

perhaps your new lover is louder, brighter and sunnier, all attributes he lacks. perhaps he should stop looking for excuses to help him loathe himself less. you and malleus were just not made for each other, and that was that.

“if i cannot make you happy, then i shan’t bind you to me any longer. go, and do not return.”

sebek zigvolt ⇾ a royal rivalry

“why aren’t you dancing? can’t you find a suitor? or did you fail your ballroom lessons? how pitiable. did you not pay attention? in my family--” sebek cocks a brow haughtily as though his mouth wasn’t half-stuffed with sweets. in spite of his discourtesy, he still carried an incorrigible regal air about himself. you grit your teeth. “do you ever shut up? nobody has asked me yet..”

sebek has been your rival since birth—the bane of your existence. both of your kingdoms are close allies, meaning you’re plagued by his endless chatter more than you’d like to be. everything is always has to be a competition between you both—he never misses a chance to remind you of his ‘fae descended’ bloodline that somehow makes him superior to you.

usually, you expect him to yell as soon as he sees you, but he’s oddly quiet. after your last exchange of words, green irises train on those participating in ongoing slow-dance, and then on you. he seems to be insinuating something, but you’re not sure what he wants out of you; you wonder if he’s sizing you up, or comparing heights.

when he instead leans forwards and extends his hand, your breath hitches. what in the world is he doing?! you feel eyes burn into your back—people were staring! you shoot him a quizzical look, but his expression is stiff, slightly rosy, focused on you only. his hand waits for you to take it. “well i-i suppose i can spare the likes of you a dance.”

you scowl—but even as you do, you put your hand in his. if you weren’t in such utter shock, you’d laugh at the audacity of him of all people being your partner for the night. you’re suddenly picking up on things you’ve never noticed about him before: the viridescent embellishments on his suit compliment his hair well… and oh, he does look better with his hair down, and…

he was your enemy, so why did he suddenly seem so… charming?

“are you leading or am i? …huh? you dare question my dancing ability? i’ll have you know, i had LESSONS!”

lilia vanrouge ⇾ forbidden love

you peer outside your bedroom window. he’s there again—the enigma of a bard who comes to play tunes for the royal family. as if he could feel your eyes on him, he looks right in your direction with a knowing smile—flustered, heart thrumming against your chest, you draw your curtains shut. your family think he’s here to play for everyone, but you know better. he’s here for you.

you’d spend every night before lilia arrived sleepless, waiting upon his arrival. his songs were ballads of worlds you never got to see, and never would be able to experience. you would hang onto his every word, head rested on his laps as he sung away. you’d be scolded for getting too close by others, but he didn’t seem to mind… so again, you’re quick to rush to his side today, keeping an amiable distance in front of your guards.

his voice is spirituous and unlike anything you’d ever heard before, laced with a certain edge you couldn’t get enough of; you’re certain he must be a wizard enchanting you. how else could you have fallen so fast? was it his eloquence, or his youthfulness that contrasts his extensive historical knowledge, or his archaic way of attempting to court you? you supposed it didn’t matter. all you knew was that your entire being was entranced by this strange fleeting sensation.

you sneak him away from prying eyes as soon as you can, and he teases you: “aren’t you greedy, wanting me all to yourself?” taking your hand and pressing chaste kisses to the back of it. the thrill of trying to not get caught spurs him on, and the sheepish look on your face and tremor of your stuttering as he renders you speechless is a plus.

you have been unsure of yourself your whole life, not knowing if the roadmap you had laid out for you was the one you truly desired—but this was the one thing you’re certain about. you must see this man again. (even if it means going against orders and sneaking out, even if it brings your family shame, even if you find out you’re not special to him in the end.)

when you tell him such, he throws his head back in a fit of giggles. you truly believe he embodies temptation, drawing you inwards—you can’t resist it!! he thinks you’re so cute, with your bashful expression and all, as he taps your nose thrice and pinches your cheek with gleeful adoration.

“you would really risk it all just to see me? i might serenade you on the spot.”

OMG the new Vargas Camp cards... they all look so good... much better than the first part honestly (I'm sorry they had no drip at all). OBSESSED with Vil's look I'm gonna stare at him for a good while he's soooo pretty. Vil one chance please please please

yes yes, they helped but were kinda acting like nothing happened ig??? ooh that's true, as the first overblot, Riddle has a bit more content about it! I'VE READ IT, it felt like such a different tone from the rest of the anthology and it hurt too (like Riddle is so confused, still adapting his way of acting and trying to redeem his past wrongdoings), but it was so good, I loved getting a glimpse of Riddle's and Ace's relationship after everything and how they were adapting!

With care,

Bee ♡

[Valentine's first spring - Riddle Rosehearts]

Summary: Autumn passes by, with winter following closely. You stay, keeping his heart safe. You stay, and Riddle craves you more than anything in this world.

Notes: gn!reader, fluff with a bit of angst, riddle's mother is it's own warning, wrote this in like an hour while listening to Valentine by Laufey and First Love/Late Spring by Mitski

The wall was red. Not too vivid, to not hurt the eyes to look at, but not quite light enough to be pink. Riddle remembers clearly, the hours of staring at it, locked in his bedroom, marked it in his memory, burnt a hole and stayed at the back of his mind. Sometimes, if he closes his eyes long enough, he feels as if he's staring at that wall again.

As a child it felt agonizing. He stared and stared and stared, trying to will his brain to keep quiet for a little while, to stop thinking. He never managed to do that, not like the other kids, who always looked so cheerful, without a care in the world, only thinking about the present moment. Riddle wasn't like them, he never was. His brain didn't look at the wall and wondered about what the next episode of a cartoon would be or what sweet he would eat next or what prank he'd pull with his friends.

No, he wasn't like these misbehaving brats, his mother told him so. He thought about the exercise he couldn't get right and his mother's disappointed frown. What should he do to be better? He didn't want to be burden, the least he could do was get a simple exercise right. Other times he would think about the high grade he got on his latest test. His mother looked pleased then. Not happy, she was never happy, not around him. Perhaps if he only put more effort into studying, if he followed the rules, if he did everything as she told him to, perhaps then she would smile and tell him he did a good job. She loved him, she told him so. It just didn't feel like it, sometimes.

After meeting Trey and Che'nya, he stopped looking at the wall for a while. He was happy, he couldn't stand that reddish color anymore, nor his stray thoughts. He met a blue sky and green on the streets and the world was full of color. He bid the wall goodbye for good. 

Even so, he missed staring at it when his free time was taken away from him. Back when he still could, his mind would rest a little and he could pretend he was doing it out of his own free will, not because he didn't have any game to play or any non academical book to read or any candy to snack. The books were nowhere as comforting as that familiar red shade. His chest ached. He wondered if that was what love felt like.

After his overblot, Riddle was lost. He was thankful for your help, for you stopping him from commiting even more mistakes and making him see how he was doing things wrong. Still, he couldn't help but resent you a little for opening his eyes, forcing him to leave the comfortable zone he was in.

He was taught to follow the rules, since it was the right thing. Naturally, everyone should do the same. Have their mother's never taught them how to behave? Riddle could do the job, put everyone in line, make Heartslabyul follow proudly in the Queen of Hearts' steps.

But the rules weren't always right, human nature was a complicated thing, there would always be exceptions. He couldn't expect everyone to act like him when they weren't brought up the same way. He should have been more considerate to their feelings, stopped to hear their justifications before collaring them mercilessly. 

Riddle had never wanted to be a tyrant. He only ever had wanted to be a good ruler, someone his subordinates can count on.

He continued to be lost as he stared, alone, at the cooking book's instructions. Trey was so kind to lend it to him, even after all the mess he had made, even after everything he had put him through. He still smiled at Riddle and tried to help, in his own way.

Riddle wanted to cry, then. He wanted to apologize over and over, to thank Trey until he couldn't talk anymore, to ask why didn't he stop him sooner, why did no one tell him he was wrong, why did his mother mislead him so? He felt like a child, so small and pathetic. A lost child, at that. He refused to let the tears fall and only thanked Trey politely with a strained voice. From his firend's pitying smile, he could tell Trey saw through his façade easily, but didn't comment on it, letting him save the last bits of his dignity.

Wallowing in self pity wouldn't fix his mistakes nor get the tart done. He should get started as soon as possible and follow all the steps perfectly to bring a most satisfactory result. Although he couldn't find the measures for the secret oyster sauce Trey had told him about. 

There's a sudden noise at the kitchen's door as someone enters, surprising him. Riddle turns around, not expecting any company, much less yours.

"Prefect. Have you forgotten something here?"

"No, I didn't. I wanted to see you, actually."

There's dread in his gut and his hands tremble slightly. He's not sure how to act after the stunt he pulled, after he had put you in danger on your first week, after he broke down crying in front of everyone. Perhaps you're here to demand a better apology or to mock him. So be it, he'll take it all gracefully.

"Oh? What for?"

"I want to help."

There's a soft smile on your face, determination shining in your eyes as you roll up the sleeves of your uniform and look around for an apron.

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused." Your smile turns into a playful grin and you let out a victorious sound as you put on the apron you found laying on the corner. 

He's baffled. What were you talking about? Ace made it very clear he should do this alone to prove he was truly sorry for his past actions.

"I'm... not sure if I understand."

"Well, it's just that I didn't want to leave you alone after... uh... everything." You make a motion in the air with your hands, as if it would be enough to sumarize the whole disaster that had transpired. "You don't have to isolate yourself, you know. You can count on us if things get too tough."

There's a strange lump on his throat and he swears he has stopped breathing. What were you talking about? Why were you being so kind to him, of all people? You haven't even known each other for that long and he has only caused you trouble the whole time.

"Also, I had a lot of fun baking with the guys! I want you to have fun too! The more, the merrier, and all that."

You walk to his side in order to look at the book, all smiles and confidence in a pink apron. He stares at you in shock, scooting away as soon as your elbow makes contact with his. He feels tingles on the place, as if your touch could burn. You pay him no mind, reading carefully the list of ingredients. 

"Alright, sounds easy enough. Let's get started, then!"

"Wait. You don't have to do this. I don't need your pity, prefect, I can handle myself just fine."

Riddle wants to slap himself as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but he couldn't let you help. He needed to this alone, that's how he's always done things. Your stare makes him want to scream in frustration. He doesn't understand it, it isn't the disappointed one his mother gave him, nor the pitiful one from his dormmates. If he looked long enough, he would have concluded it was an understanding stare, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I don't pity you, Riddle. You knew what you were doing and you deserved to hear those things from Ace."

His breath hitches and he's never felt so ashamed before. It feels worse than a slap, to have the truth thrown at him like this. His actions mocking him, his own faults tightening the collar around his neck.

"Still, I can see you truly regret it. And it doesn't feel right to just leave you alone. Don't get me wrong, you're not my charity project or anything. It's just... I understand how hard it is to start again, to try to be better. And it's so much harder when you feel like no one is by your side."

Like an open book, Riddle feels you can read every line from his being, that his thoughts are yours to pick apart. Is he so obvious? He feels rooted in place, a poor fool waiting to receive his sentence at your mercy.

"You're not a bad person, Riddle. I can see that. So, let's start again, together."

Your smile looks too much like the light at the end of the tunnel, like some sort of salvation. His chest expands and contracts again as his breathing resumes, he gulps the dryness out of his throat and blinks firmly, holding the tears in. Suddenly, he doesn't feel as lost as before.

You extend your hand at him, expectantly. How could he deny that? Sparkles fly on his skin as your hands touch, the gentle feeling like nothing he's ever felt before. How did you manage to make him feel like he's floating, like everything will be alright, like there's a shock running through every single bone of his body?

"Come on, we've got a tart to do!"

"Yes. Let's do this." He can't control his facial muscles, a little smile forming on it's own.

Only after both of you had gathered all the ingredients did he remember something.

"There's just one more thing."

"Yes?" Your attention focuses solely on him, head tilted slightly and he feels at the top of the world to have you looking at him like that.

"We don't have any oyster sauce."

The cute inquisitive expression falls from your face, a carefully neutral one taking it's place, making him fidget on his spot, worried he might have done something wrong. He truly didn't want to ruin things with you, not when everything has started to feel right again.

"Why would we need any?"

"Trey has told me it's an unlisted secret ingredient that all the finest bakers use..."

He watches, mesmerized, as your expression cracks, a giggle leaving your lips, followed by another and another until you're full out laughing, eyes crinkled so hard they're almost closed, teeth exposed and chest heaving, pure joy flowing through you. It's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

Still, he's not sure if he should feel hurt or offended that you're laughing at him. He settles on confusion, not wanting to jump into conclusions.

Once you've calmed down enough to speak again you explain, between giggles sweeter than sugar, that it was only a joke Trey had pulled on you as well. 

The embarrassment creeps up his spine and makes his face blush, cheeks warming up. He would have been mad, had it happened a few days ago. And yet. Your happiness is contagious, making a laugh break out from him, joining the chorus with your melody. 

It feels so silly, laughing together in the kitchen like that, but he's not lost anymore. The air is comfortable once more and it feels sweet on his tongue, it feels like home.

As the time passes, you grow on him, you make a place for yourself in his life, to the point he can't remember how he's ever lived before you.

You study together, you listen to all his explanations attentively, he answers any questions you might have, you make sure he's taking breaks. You take him on walks around the campus, hand clasped in his. You rope him into snack runs, sharing with him a piece of whatever you're having.

You give him hugs without asking anything in return, your arms open and oh so inviting, so alluring. You tousle his hair when you're feeling playful, fixing it gently when he complains. You give him a kiss on the cheek when you're proud of one of his accomplishments, loudly congratulating him.

He's never had this before. No one has been this affectionate with him, so openly and unashamed. No one has treated him like he's precious, like you do. 

Riddle craves you. He has never desired something so fiercely before. He has never had the chance. 

The next best thing he could compare the feeling to was to a strawberry tart. Not any strawberry tart, but Trey's parents' bakery's strawberry tart. Whenever he gazed at the window he would see it on display, the red color calling to him. His mouth salivated just thinking about how it would taste should he take a bite of it, the sweetness exploding on his tongue. Maybe he could satiate the aching whitin him, fill that empty hole and feel happy. Then, his mother's voice would play on his head, reprimanding him for even thinking of consuming that amount of sugar. He'd look away, ashamed, but the red strawberries would always pull his eyes to them again, like a magnet.

Whenever he saw you, he felt the same ache on his chest, but stronger. A yearning to see your smile, to feel your warm hands against his, taste the most delicious red from your lips. Just from having your attention on him it felt like lady bugs dancing on his stomach, making his heart accelerate, face flushing. He craves you, more than any strawberry tart in the world.

It scares him. He's never felt like this, never felt this strongly for anyone. He's still young and sorting his life out, he doesn't even know what he wants to become without his mother's overbearing demands. He's figuring himself out, getting lost in the maze of his feelings. He's always acted older than his age, always complied to his mother's desires, and now he feels younger than ever and he's scared.

Riddle wants you to like him back, desperately so. Still, he can't bear to imagine you saying you love him. The thought leaves him breathless, his chest aches and aches and aches for you and he doesn't know what he'd do without you.

Autumn passes by, with winter following closely. You stay, keeping his heart safe. You stay, and Riddle craves you more than anything in this world.

The fresh breeze of spring brings forth the scent of the flowers scattered across the garden. Riddle can hear birds singing at the distance and the sun's warmth settles pleasantly on his skin, warming up his bones. It's as if the flora has come to life, buzzing in excitement for the season.

There's nothing prettier than your smile directed at him, nothing else that could make him feel like he's lost control of his heartbeat.

Your hands are behind your back and you have a spring in your step as you stop right in front of him. You ask him to extend his hand and he does so, watching intently as one your hands takes his and brings it to your lips, tenderly pressing a feather light kiss on the back of it. His eyes are blown out, his lips drying and heart running wildly.

"These are for you."

A bouquet of flowers in red shades is given to him, your other hand making contact and holding his. A smile blooms on his face, stretching his red cheeks as a loving sigh leaves his mouth. 

"Thank you. They are lovely."

"Just like you." You wink playfully, sticking your tongue out a bit and letting go of his hands. He has to stop himself from reaching out again, missing your warmth terribly.

Riddle clears his throat and motions at the other side of the small round table he's set up. "Please, have a seat."

You do as he says, admiring the decorations he's prepared. Between the red and white roses of the garden, the two of you share a cup of milk tea and a strawberry tart. The conversation flows naturally, telling each other how your days have been and how things are going. Riddle could listen to you all day, every story you have to share captures his interest as easily as you've captured his heart.

It's such a domestic scene, the two of you. Riddle thinks that's what love must feel like. Like a warm embrace, or like the sweetness of the tart melting on his tongue, or like your smile. Not like a red wall and a disappointed frown.

The sun sets in a hue of reds, the sunlight creating a dream like atmosphere between yourselves. The way your relaxed face reflects the colors makes Riddle feel full of affection. He's content, he realises. He wishes he could share a million other moments like this with you, a million other springs.

"It's beautiful." You comment, breathless. You're not looking at the sunset anymore, though. Your gaze is on him and only him, as if he's the most important thing in the world. "You're beautiful." Your voice is filled with sincerity and something else, something that makes his heart ache with yearning, something that makes him want to hear you say that again and again.

It feels so much like a confession.

He can't help but blush, red like his hair. He's never had this before, he's not sure how to react. So, he blurts out the first thing he thinks of, the truth slipping from his lips.

"You're beautiful too."

It feels like a promise.

You look surprised, eyebrows rising and mouth opening. He's surprised too. And then you laugh, honey dripping from the sound. You look pleased as you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers and squeezing it gently. 

The table is small, small enough for you to lay your elbows against it and come closer to his face, for your other hand to cup his red cheek and bring his face closer to yours. Riddle is lost in the moment, closing his eyes and tilting his head, his free hand resting against your shoulder. 

As your lips press together, Riddle feels elated. His fingers tremble and grip harder onto you, not wanting to let you go. The kiss is slow and so tender, so sweet. He can taste the strawberries on your tongue, can feel your thumb caressing his cheek. You deepen the kiss and he lets out a whimper from deep within, a sound filled with sheer want. He lingers over this moment, wanting to commit it to memory, carve it on his soul.

You pull back, separating your lips. Riddle chases after you, wanting more, needing more. You giggle and nuzzle your noses together, such an innocent act that it feels more intimate, somehow. You've got his heart on your hands and you hold onto it with the utmost care, so much so that he can't feel himself ever regreting this. If he could, he'd like to kiss you, and only one, for the rest of his life.

"Riddle." The way you say his name is soft, not breaking the moment. "Will you be my valentine?"

He opens his eyes and traces every inch of your face, his hand moving to the back of your neck and pulling you closer. He gives you a chaste kiss, trying to satisfy his craving enough to be able to get the words out from his throat without choking on it.

"I'd love to, if you'll have me."

Your answering smile is exactly what he needs. Your lips connect again, it feels a lot like love.

Masterlist

HAPPY 1 MONTH ANNIVERSARY TO MY ACCOUNT YAY

seriously you guys are so sweet thank you for your support, it means a lot to me <33 I'm glad people like my writing so much!!! I'll keep doing my best!

cater is the caterpillar

that's definetely one possibility!!

I personally see him more as the White Rabbit, even tho I can see him as the Caterpillar with the whole "representing changes" stuff and the "Cater(pillar)". I thiiink I might have seen somewhere Cater was supposed to be a rabbit beastman in one of his earlier designs but I can't find anything about it so maybe I hallucinated it lmao

anyways hii happy 2 month anniversary to my account <3 this last week has been... something. I've been so busy 😭 what did I miss...

PIERCER IN TRAINING﹙☆﹚—  TWST

you want to pierce your ears, jade offers to do it for you.

— warnings: mention of needles, ears being pierced of course, semi proofread

— characters: jade (ft. azul)

when you first complained about wanting to pierce your ears, jade offered to do it for you. immediately, you shot him down. it would be stupid of you to accept an offer from jade leech of all people to pierce your ears. the possibilities were endless. he could pierce the wrong part of your ear. he could end up making too big of a hole. he could make too small of a hole. you knew none of the staff would be impressed to see you walk in to the infirmary with your ears in dire need of first aid. however, you seemed to underestimate jade’s persuasive skills. that was your biggest and most costly oversight.

since, before you knew it, you were sitting in front of jade, after hours at monstro lounge, as he was readying himself to pierce your eyes. “are you sure you can do this?” you nervously asked as you watched him slip a pair of latex gloves on. at least he acted like a professional piercer. 

Continuar lendo

CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP PULLING MY HAIR BANGING MY HEAD ON THE WALL. I'M. SO DONE. THERE'S GONNA BE A 2° ROUND. THAT'S TERRIBLE.

SO. TODAY IS PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS DAY IN BRAZIL!!! it's a veeeeeery important election for us, we are literally making history right now. I'm very hopeful on how things may turn out, it looks like it'll get better after some very tense years!!! if you can, do check the results appuration later on and cheer for us 🙏

Jade upon catching feelings:ah this probably wont last long,jade later:oh no its lasting longer than anticipated

Jade: this must be a simple momentary insterest, surely I'll get bored and move on soon enough.

Jade some days later: oh no I might have our whole wedding already planned in my head.

YOUR REACTIONS TO THE EDIT ARE SO FUNNY, I'm glad you liked it, it's wonderful(ly horrible) I know I know

regarding which one is the most dramatic, I present thee: indian soap operas. yes, mexican telenovelas and filipino teleseryes tie between each other, but I think the indian soap operas take the cake on this one. this video I linked cracks me up EVERY TIME. also Pando you have such good taste, I love romcoms too! I've heard good things about kdramas but I haven't watched any so far, I plan to do it... some day... eventually.

HI HI YAKO WELCOME TO THIS (VERY LONG) POST !!! I just wanted to say you're absolutely right, this bird is evil he's having evil thoughts of causing mischief, just look at him. nightmare fuel. also fr the context of the song made no sense in that scene lmao

CHERRY NOT THE TOKYO DRIFT PARODY I'M CRYING WITH LAUGHTER 😭😭😭 THE YA HOO GETS ME

there are so many cool languages... I wish I could learn a bit of all of them but I'm way too lazy for that 😔 I'll keep my knowledge of like a single word in each language and leave it at that for now. Cherry you wanna know what I did to practice my english?? I talked to myself out loud until I got the hang of the pronunciation (I KNOW IT SOUNDS GOOFY BUT IT HELPED I SWEAR)

WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THIS EPISODE HELP???? the jumpscare I got when they started to sing in broken portuguese even tho I literally clicked on the video expecting it. I could only understand "eu quero mamãe", the rest is kinda jumbled. here's the song in case anyone wants to check it out! it says "I want my mommy", that's why the cats use it to mock Tom in this context

Rook's possible nickname for you made me remember that scene on Tom & Jerry when they're musketeers and Jerry's nephew is singing "alouette, je te plumerai~"

the song is about plucking the poor bird's feathers tho lol I searched about it a little, it's a interesting story tbh

oh yes, i remember that exact scene and song!! though, i first knew the song from a random memory of my pre-k years lol. the pre-k i went to taught us basic french for some reason, and they taught us the "Alouette" song early on. but as a four-year-old, it didn't really register in my head exactly what the song had meant (like many nursery and children's songs), so you can imagine the shock future me had when i found out what the song was truly saying 💀 the poor bird

but anyways, yes, my pre-k knowledge helped in thinking of rook's possible nickname for me bvjsdvkvs