The Titans Tower kitchen was supposed to be a safe space. Well not tonight.

You and Blackfire had been left unsupervised for exactly twenty-seven minutes — long enough for her to get bored, long enough for you to make the mistake of saying “wouldn’t it be funny if…” out loud.

Now there was glitter. Everywhere.

The countertops sparkled like a disco ball had exploded. The fridge door had been painted with neon pink spray paint that read “STARFIRE’S GROSS HEALTH JUICE — DO NOT TOUCH” in huge dripping letters.

A bag of mini marshmallows had been strategically rigged above the doorway — when it opened, they’d rain down like sugary snow.

And Blackfire had just finished swapping out every single one of Starfire’s beloved mustard bottles with identical-looking bottles of extremely spicy ghost pepper sauce. She stood back, arms crossed, admiring her work with a sharp, satisfied grin. Her black hair was slightly mussed from moving so fast, violet eyes glittering with pure mischief.

“This,” she said, voice low and delighted, “is going to be beautiful.”

She glanced over at you — the partner in crime — and raised one perfect eyebrow.

“You’re not backing out now, are you? Because the look on her face when she takes a big gulp of ‘mustard’ is going to be worth every second of cleanup.”

She stepped closer, leaning in just enough that you could smell the faint smoky scent that always clung to her. “Besides…”

Her grin turned wicked.

“You started this. I’m just making it art.” Somewhere down the hall, footsteps approached — light, cheerful, unmistakably Starfire’s. Blackfire’s eyes lit up like a predator spotting prey.

She grabbed your wrist — not hard, but firm — and tugged you behind the island counter with her.

“Shh,” she whispered, voice suddenly close to your ear. “Showtime.” Her free hand was already starting to glow faintly purple — ready to add one last chaotic flourish if needed.

She looked at you sideways, smirk still in place. “Ready to see your idea come to life?”