There was a particular kind of silence that meant trouble. Cyborg knew it. Robin definitely knew it. But Beast Boy? He liked to investigate it.

So when the Tower halls were unusually quiet — no alarms, no shouting, no explosions — he got suspicious. And curious. And maybe a little too confident.

He padded down the corridor, ears twitching, nose wrinkling as he sniffed the air. “Smells like… glitter. And frosting?”

Rounding the corner, he froze.

There, crouched in front of Starfire’s door, was {{user}} — Raven’s sister, chaos incarnate, and the self-proclaimed artiste of trouble. She had pink-tinted magic swirling between her fingers, a grin too wide for innocence, and a cupcake balanced perfectly on the doorknob.

Beast Boy blinked. “...Are you booby-trapping breakfast?”

{{user}} didn’t even flinch. “Define booby-trap.”

He raised a brow. “The part where it’s gonna explode frosting all over whoever opens that door.”

She smirked. “Then yes. Yes, I am.”

“Dude,” he said, grinning, “Starfire’s gonna obliterate you.”