#i knew i recognized the style

[shanklin]

Stanford never became friends with Fiddleford.

Instead he got himself a different small friend group who cares a lot about him. At least about the Ford he pretended to be in college.

A kind, soft spoken formerly bullied genius who researches very dull stuff in Oregon and definitely not anything weird. Their Ford would never break any rules or ignore safety measures [unlike that other student they heard about during their college years.]

And then Ford stops answering their calls and loses his grant. 

It’s time for an intervention and they start pestering Ford with letters and calls until he finally agrees to meet them at a science convention, but he’ll take his brother with him.

They’re relieved! Ford is with Shermie! They like Shermie! It's a good thing that Ford still has one brother who isn't a good for nothing selfish criminal who destroyed his entire future!

If they ever get their hands on Ford’s evil twin they’ll make sure he’ll regret ever messing with their friend. Ford is too nice for revenge. They aren’t.

Meanwhile at the not-yet Mystery Shack, the Stans freshly survived their own angsty canon divergent tale of two stans AU and locked Bill out of Ford's mind like a week ago.

Stan: I don’t know how long Ford will keep me around but this will be good for him. He needs some friends to take care of him after I inevitably get kicked out again!

Ford: I only agreed to this because Stan insisted and I still haven’t found a way to thank him and apologize. I hope all my “friends” die in a fire.

[mangocurist]

took a nap i xdont feel better but i did have an odd dream

[unnonexistence]

ok there was a poll going around a while ago about whether you think your 5-year-old self would recognize you, and I'm curious:

[enden-k]

they picked YMIR for the music in lighters trailer-----!!!!!! zzzero truly is the best of their games bye

[glitterstarly]

I was rewatching the entire qsmp vod where Cellbit, Roier, bbh, Jaiden and Richas stayed together in the server until it closed at midnight and I.... I forgot.... about this part......

I forgot

I forgot that Maximus put my very old fanart of lobo nocturno in the entrance of the furry club ...

I got jumpscared by my own art again....

[aromanticasterisms]

read through alien space for star rail context and every frame himeko's in you can faintly hear me in the bg trying hard not to think about how much she looks like diluc

[undyinglantern]

p-poco is gonna be like chuzenji 2.0 where i never realize thats who the artist is despite liking their art

[snoozequest]

THAT SONG IS A CARO EMERALD SONG?!

[fishymedic]

Me working on his parents backstories and just going 'look i know nothing about locations or anything- but do locations really matter because I fear both were just constantly trying to find somewhere decent and failing up till found each other+then ended up in zaun'

[vilecrocodile]

Léo Forest

[adhdtsukasa]

i just realized that my god was illustrated by shidu... the same shidu who drew so many kagepro mvs... this truly is The wxs song then. i am eating so good

[freeandiwill]

Guessing each of the Saja Boys’ deals with Gwi-Ma

I don’t know if this has been done yet but I just find them really hot fascinating okay?

Jinu

Okay, so this one we obviously already know- He abandoned his family to become a musician and live a luxurious life. This allows him to have an extraordinary singing voice, which is obviously his overall appeal as a boyband leader. Since this is directly stated this movie, it gives us a good guideline going forward with the rest of them; something that is still present in their current depreciation and overall serves to their benefit, even though they had to make a sacrifice to get it.

Since the rest of the band is extremely underportrayed this whole movie, I get to be a bit creative with my theories. Feel free to contribute your own ideas!

Abby/Abs

Obviously he is extremely muscular but I don’t think it’s a pure vanity thing. So I’m gonna say he wished for inhuman strength to defend himself during a time of violence and conflict. He wanted to feel less helpless and vulnerable in the midst of chaos, but this came at the price of him going mad with power and hurting innocent people, unable to tell a friend from an enemy. He still believes he’s a monster that can snap at any minute, relishing in some of the leverage that gives him (being a demon) but also fear that he may not have total control over himself.

Baby

The name seems pretty blatant- I think he wished for infinite youth and beauty. He was incredibly discomforted by the sight of those around him slowly aging. He constantly saw people becoming weaker and frailer, less capable of doing things themselves. Their skin sagged, their hair grayed, society seemed to find them more and more of an ugly nuisance. And it absolutely terrified him, so he asked to be spared from it. Unfortunately, he still had to watch the world around him changed while he stayed preserved, locked in time. The degradation and decay of humanity soon became more and more apparent, terrifying him further, wondering if he’ll ever be next. He constantly checks himself for any minor blemishes or shifts in his appearance, growing paranoid that he may not be as perfect as he’s desperate to be.

Romance

Another no-brainer, He wished a girl to fall in love and marry him. Aladdin-style, as in she was above his status and could never consider him as a husband until he placed himself in the same league as her and made himself seem irresistible. It was perfect at first, until her senseless infatuation with him began to ruin their relationship. She loved him but she didn’t really like him, she hardly knew him at all. She was mindlessly obsessed, and guilt began to eat away when he realized he had practically made her a slave to his affection. Woman still find him irresistible, but he can’t bring himself to love anyone back, knowing that he utterly ruined the one he held dearest.

Mystery

Admittedly, this was the hardest for me to think of, so it’s is a bit of a stretch.

He was once known for being a gentle and kind boy, but due to unfortunate circumstances, had gotten into a very aggressive and very public argument with a close friend, ending with him killing them in a blind fit of rage. This utterly ruined his reputation, so he wished to permanently hide away and never be recognized again. He was on the run for many years, continually growing his hair over his face and changing his name until he forgot who he was, only remembering what he did and the shame it caused him. He’s still quite reserved and withdrawn, wondering if- even after all these decades later- someone will be able to point him out and expose his crime to the world.

I only did a brief amount of research for this, so I’m just waiting for one of the days where a maker of this movie will release a lore drop and pull one of these on me 😭⬇️

[localcelestialcreature62]

IT WAS YOUU????

beware the IMPOSTOR

[teambyler]

OF COURSE Mike knew that Will made the painting. He would've instantly recognized Will's art style.

Yet STILL he asked:

"Did you paint this?"

Because for SO LONG Mike had refused to let himself believe that Will liked him. And here was proof that the "someone he likes" Will was secretly making a painting for, was HIM.

Look closely: there are TEARS in his eyes.

He couldn't believe it! ("Pinch me, am I dreaming?")

(And sadly, his disbelief is also why he accepted what Will said afterward.)

-teambyler

[athenalvss]

FIRST LOVE ▬ ( Dick grayson! )

summary: A young Dick Grayson is in love with one of his father's younger teammates in the Justice League.

note: Dick wiil be like 16/17 and I write abt reader like she has 19/20, Just to communicate the age gap, enjoy :)

pairing:(platonic) yj!dick grayson x fem reader

open request - Dick masterlist

The first time you met was once when Bruce took you to the Batcave to accompany him on a mission, actually only Dick met you, he was not allowed to be there tonight, Bruce had forbidden him to go down to the cave that night and that they would not go out on patrol together, and there he was hiding watching the interaction between the most beautiful girl he had seen in his short thirteen years and his adoptive father.

You stood next to Batman, nodding as he explained the details of a simple reconnaissance mission. You were dressed in your suit, a modern design that combined functionality with style, and your posture displayed confidence… though a friendly smile softened your features.

Batman walked you toward the Batmobile, helping you get in, and Dick saw you laugh at something he said. Laugh. With Batman. As if that were even possible.

How unfair life was to him.

But the first time you officially met was shortly after Young Justice was created. Bruce, dressed as Batman and Red Tornado, had introduced you to the small group of teenagers with the intention of having you be part of their training, and perhaps even help them understand the great responsibility that this job entails at a young age.

But young Robin was too busy bragging that he already knew the pretty girl.

"Team," Red Tornado announced in a mechanically solemn voice. "This is the newest active member of the Justice League. She'll assist in your training."

You stood confidently beside Batman, smiling kindly at the group of expectant teenagers.

"Hey guys" you greeted with a friendly smile. "I hope we can learn a lot together. "

Robin almost fainted.

Of course he recognized you.

The goddess of the Batcave was there, in the same room, and this time... he could talk to you without hiding behind the Batmobile.

Wally nudged him. “Wow... who is she? She’s so f...”

"What are you saying, Wally?!" Robin interrupted quickly, his voice a little louder than usual.

Everyone looked at him, he cleared his throat, crossing his arms as if he hadn't just yelled in front of the team. "I mean, obviously I know her. She's been in the Batcave before. With Batman. And me. Nothing new for me. "

Wally raised an eyebrow, amused. "Really? And you didn't say anything?"

Robin shrugged, putting on his best 'this doesn't affect me' pose, although he was sure his ears were turning red under the mask.

"I didn't mean to brag," he said with a small smile. "But we've already talked. she was on a mission with B, and I showed her some things about the cave. She asked me for advice. The usual."

Wally chuckled. “she asked you for advice, sure.”

You stepped forward, smiling warmly as you watched them. “Robin, right?” you asked, addressing him directly.

The boy's heart almost fell to the floor.

"Yes," he replied immediately, straightening as if he were undergoing a military inspection. "Of course. Robin. You know, the first one. The original. The best. Your Robin."

Wally coughed to hide a laugh.

"Thank you for having me. I'm happy to be here," you continued calmly, then lowered your voice a little. "And.... I remember you."

Robin froze.

—I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but... I thought it was really cute how you hid behind the computer that night.

Robin blinked. “How…?”

"Boy, do you think I'd be in the League if I didn't see you hiding behind a piece of furniture? No one escapes a League member," you winked mischievously.

Wally squealed with laughter as Robin raised a hand to his face. "I'm going to need an identity change," he muttered.

ᯓ★

The Watchtower meeting hall was lively, finally the young league had been allowed to come see the place and watch the daily routine of the heroes who were there, what should have been a happy day for everyone, for Robin, the energy of the place had a slightly bitter taste.

From his place leaning against the wall, arms crossed and brow slightly furrowed, he watched the scene in front of him as if it were a movie he hadn't asked to see.

You were standing in the middle of the conference room, laughing with Hal Jordan, while he excitedly gestured about who knows about what. The way you laughed, with your shoulders slightly raised and that genuine expression of amusement… it didn't help at all.

Robin looked away with a silent grunt. 'Great,' he thought, now his special day at the Watchtower was ruined by the more annoying version of Green Lantern and his damn perfect white teeth and that jagged jawline.

"Relax, Wonder Boy," Wally told him, appearing at his side, munching some cookies from the base's kitchen. "They're just talking."

"Who said I'm not relaxed?" Robin replied, a little too quickly.

—Your face. You have a “I want to throw a batarang at Green Lantern” vibe.

Robin snorted. “I wouldn’t throw a batarang at him…” Pause ."…very strong. "

At that moment, you turned your head slightly and smiled at Batman, who had come over to review some files with you and Hal. Batman said something to you in a low voice, and you nodded with a warm smile.

Dick felt a small emotional short circuit.

Bruce now too? Bruce?!? Since when did you smile like that with him?! I thought your thing with Batman was respect, professional admiration… not those kind of smiles that gave you stomach cramps!

Wally spoke again, his mouth still half full of crackers. “I think you should take a deep breath before you explode like an overloaded microchip, buddy.”

At that moment, you said goodbye to Hal with a gentle pat on the arm and walked toward the group of young people. Your eyes lingered on Dick for a second, and your smile widened.

"Wally, Robin," you greeted him in that warm tone you only used with him, even though he refused to admit it. "How was your visit?"

Dick cleared his throat and straightened his back as if he hadn't been frowning with dramatic intensity for five minutes. Wally, for his part, smiled as if nothing had happened.

"That's great!" the speedster replied. "I mean, it's not every day you see Superman eating a giant salad for lunch, right?"

You laughed softly, and that laugh was enough to make Dick forget for half a second that he was angry at Hal Jordan, at you, at Bruce, and at cosmic injustice in general.

"And you, Robin?" you asked with a nod. "What did you think?"

Robin opened his mouth, but for some reason the words didn't come out immediately. His brain, which normally ran at the speed of a supercomputer, seemed to have rebooted.

"I'm... fine. Everything," he murmured, before clearing his throat and adding in a firmer tone. "The security design of the north corridors is quite efficient. Although there is a minimal leak in the retinal scanner in room 6B. Nothing serious, but... I noticed it."

Wally looked at him as if he had just quoted an engineering manual in the middle of a conversation about movies.

You smiled with genuine amusement and nodded, as if you didn't find it ridiculous at all. "I knew you'd notice something like that. Good eye."

Dick felt like he was floating.

"Yeah, well... efficiency's my thing," he said with a slight shrug, trying to sound casual. Wally nudged him, not conspiratorially this time, but to keep him from falling over because of his inflated ego.

"You're adorable."

Dick felt as if the ground disappeared for a second beneath his boots.

And Wally, behind him, lost it: he put his hand to his mouth to hold back a laugh.

"See you later, little guards," you added sweetly, ruffling his hair before leaving with Hal, who was waiting for you at one of the doors.

Dick stood still, as if struck by lightning.

"I'm not little..." he murmured.

Wally patted him on the back with a laugh. "Bro... you just got lethally friendzoned with love. You're going to remember this for years."

Dick didn't reply. He just touched his messy hair with a silly half smile he couldn't stop.

ᯓ★

It was your first time accompanying Young Justice on a mission, and everything had gone to hell so fast you couldn't believe it.

No one understood what was happening, but since you were the oldest of all, you were supposed to stay calm and find a solution for this strange moment.

The rift in the sky had exploded without warning. A blinding white flash enveloped them, and the next thing they knew, they were no longer in their timeline.

The technology, the architecture, the atmosphere: everything indicated they'd traveled several years into the future. Just enough to make some familiar faces unrecognizable... and others too recognizable to not send shivers down your spine.

“Where… are we?” Aqualad asked, cautiously assessing the spot where they had landed.

"That's what I'd like to know," said a deep, confident voice behind you.

You turned around as a reflex .

And there he was

Tall, imposing. In a black suit with a light blue symbol in the middle of his chest, he looked like a boy about your age, one you definitely didn't know.

"Are you...?" He looked at everyone, his attention finally settling on you. "Oh, damn."

"I'm surprised to see you here. Although I must admit… so far, this has been a pleasant visit."

Robin narrowed his eyes .

"Do you know us?" you asked cautiously.

"Let's just say I have good memories," he said, in a tone that made you raise an eyebrow.

Dick, in the background, clenched his fists. Good memories? What kind of memories?

Nightwing winked at you before looking back at the group. "But don't worry, I won't leave you trapped in my time. We'll figure out how to get you back... after we catch up."

Robin couldn't stop staring at him. Would this be what he'd be like in the future? Would this be how he'd behave? Would this be how he'd talk to you...?

And the worst part is, you didn't seem upset. In fact, you were smiling.

Maybe you weren't recognizing Dick as Nightwing, they didn't look much alike, but it was inevitable for Dick not to recognize himself. .

"We need to talk alone," he said in a serious tone.

Nightwing hesitated, but nodded, and the two of them walked off into a darker hallway.

And there, when they were far enough away, Robin turned to him with a frown. "Hey... you," he began, somewhat awkwardly, "I mean, me. Major. Can I ask you something?"

Nightwing looked at him curiously. “Shoot.”

"She..." he swallowed. "You know, she... In this time... you and her, are you...?"

Nightwing looked at him for a long second before answering. "No, Dick. We were never together."

Silence.

Dick blinked . "Excuse me?" he said with an incredulous chuckle. "Never as in 'not yet'? Or never as in never, never?"

Nightwing gave him a sympathetic look. That was worse.

"As in “never ever.” As in “your eternal crush will eventually marry someone else.” As in “you had zero chance, bro.”

Dick opened his mouth. He closed it. Then he opened it again, only to complain with all the drama his frustrated little teenage body could muster.

"Are you telling me that neither growing up, nor having this cool guy demeanor, nor having that deep, sexy voice, I achieved anything?! Nothing at all?!"

Nightwing shrugged. “Well… you managed to maintain a nice friendship. That’s something.”

"A NICE FRIENDSHIP!" Dick repeated, his face one of existential outrage. "You flirted with her five minutes ago! You flirted with her in front of me like it was the most natural thing in the world!"

"Sure, but she didn't know it was me, or rather, you."

Dick pointed at him as if it were evidence in court. "That makes everything worse!! You flirted with her like someone else and it failed!"

[tsuy4n]

The Artist Who Lives for the Plot

Warning/s: Fem!Reader, Mild language/swearing, Still Chaotic™, Verbal bullying disguised as flirting, petty drama, reader still very much suffering (comically), Unwilling reverse harem, Reader is done with them all (not really), reader needs sleep

[A/n]: A little calm before we spiral again 😌 Still the same day as the fire rescue, just some filler flavor and sketchbook chaos. Next chapter? More damage. Stay tuned.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 >Part 6<, Part 7, Part 8

Abby lingered outside of your room.

Slowly, inevitably, his lips curled into a smile. He didn't even try to stop it. He exhaled, shaking his head before glancing down at the object in his hand. The sketchbook.

Your sketchbook.

You handed it to him. Not Jinu. Not Baby. Not Romance. And definitely not Mystery, who felt like the favorite and possibly even closest to you.

Just him.

Abby grinned wider, his ego inflating by the second.

You liked him best. That had to be it. Why else would you let him be the first? Obviously, your taste was impeccable. Stunning. Refined. Tragic, really, that it took a near-death experience for you to admit it.

(Even if you hadn't technically said anything.)

He flipped the sketchbook open with a lazy flick of his thumb, smirking like he already knew what he'd find.

Time to confirm it, their (mostly Jinu) wild theories about blueprints for assassination, pages of data collection, maybe even labeled diagrams of their emotional weaknesses in comic strip format.

At the very least, a panel or two on how she planned to kill them.

But no.

None of that.

His smirk faltered. Then settled into something gentler.

These weren't schemes. Or secret weapon notes. Or a coded confession to Huntrix.

They were just… drawings.

Real ones. Good ones. Frustrated ones. Admiring ones. Art for art's sake.

"…Hah," Abby said quietly, a little too pleased with himself. "Told you she wasn't the enemy."

He clutched the sketchbook closer.

"I knew it all along."

Despite his words, he continued to look through the pages. Not because he doubted, but because he's curious.

These were your drawings, after all.

The first few pages were older, lined with haphazard doodles and messy pencil marks, as if you were racing thoughts before they slipped.

Some were half-finished, others just empty silhouettes. Characters in stories. Fantasies. Whole worlds, sketched in a haze of graphite and ink.

He paused at one that looked vaguely like a knight, then another of someone with a glowing arm. Magical girls. Monsters. A fox-eared barista.

Huh. These were just fictional things. All fantasy. Impressive, yeah—but not what he expected.

Kind of amazing, honestly. The detail. The shading. The style.

Still, for someone who got yelled at, tripped over, and harassed by him at least three times a day, you'd think he'd have at least one angry doodle dedicated to his face. Just one. Was that so much to ask?

A little disappointing.

Not that he cared. (He totally cared.)

He sighed. Just one more page, he told himself. Then he'd hand it off to Jinu and the others so they'd shut up about their "data-gathering spy artist enemy" theory or whatever insane thing they were cooking up.

He turned the page.

And stopped.

A familiar shape came to view. Broad shoulders. Lean frame. A shirt he definitely recognized—

"...Is that a pigeon head?"

He blinked then tilted the book as if from a different angle, it might suddenly become respectful.

It did not.

The shading was immaculate. The pigeon eyes sparkled with contempt. The little caption beneath it read: 'Soaring dumbass, probably eats gravel.'

He stared.

Then he laughed—sharp and startled, hand slapping over his mouth as if you'd hear him from across the house. He's literally still standing in front of your room.

You drew him with a pigeon head. That meant something. That meant everything.

He didn't know whether to be offended or deeply honored.

So he settled on: "Yeah. She totally likes me."

He flipped the page.

The next was a hastily drawn Baby with 'Most Likely to Die First in a Horror Movie' written under his face. Next to it was Mystery frowning at a ghost with a speech bubble: "Please stop haunting me. I'm busy."

Abby tried not to laugh. He failed.

The page after that?

Romance. Shirtless. Dramatically posed on a pile of books. Except one of his eyebrows was taped to his forehead like a glued-on caterpillar. You'd scrawled, "He wouldn't shut up about Greek myths so I gave him a tragedy."

"Oh my gah—" Abby wheezed.

There were more.

A doodle of Jinu staring at a calendar like he was calculating your death date. Baby in a clown costume. Romance crying because his tea was too bitter. Mystery. Just Mystery. But instead of arms, he had spaghetti noodles for limbs.

He was already moving to flip another page but then he heard footsteps.

Abby quickly slammed the sketchbook shut just as Baby and Mystery rounded the corner into the hallway. Both looked immediately suspicious.

"Why do you look guilty?" Baby said, eyes narrowing.

"I don't." Abby straightened. "I look smug. Which is my default."

Mystery didn't say anything but when he saw the sketchbook, he looked at Abby like he was hinting or accusing him of something.

"Oh, this?" Abby gestured with the book, conceited. "[Y/n] gave it to me. Advance payment she said."

"...You mean she didn't threaten you?" Baby asked flatly after sharing a look with his friend.

Abby's lips curved even wider. "No. She let me borrow it."

He held the sketchbook a little higher, like it was a trophy.

Baby narrowed his eyes immediately. "You're lying."

Abby gasped, scandalized. "I would never lie about a legally binding sketchbook transaction between two consenting weirdos."

Before Baby could point that irritatingly snobbish smirk of his, Romance entered the hallway holding a bowl of soup like it was a peace offering from a much cooler alternate universe.

He raised a brow. "What's this about?"

"She's staying." Abby said smugly.

All three stopped.

"She what?" Romance blinked.

"She's staying here." Abby smirked, voice practically dripping with self-satisfaction. "And gave me this as advance payment."

He lifted the sketchbook again, flipping it over in his hand for dramatic flair. "Which means, by the way, I am currently the most trusted, most beloved, and most artistically appreciated member of this group."

Baby scoffed. "She was probably delirious."

"Deliriously into me." Abby shot back, beaming.

Mystery's gaze shifted toward the door to your room. His stare was neutral but sharp, like he was calculating just how deeply he should be concerned.

Romance squinted at the book in Abby's hands. "...She gave you her sketchbook?"

"Borrowed." Abby corrected. "Lent. Entrusted. Gifted temporarily with intent to impress. The phrasing isn't important."

"You asked for it, didn't you." Baby muttered, his arms crossed.

"I was charmingly persistent." Abby said, playing along with him. There was no need to go into detail with that story to someone who's in denial.

Mystery tilted his head the faintest bit. "Did she threaten you?"

"Nope." Abby popped the ‘p’. "Voluntary. Consensual. You can ask her yourself."

He gestured for them to enter the room as if it was a dare to go into somewhere scary.

Then he points to Romance's bowl with flair. "Thank you for bringing the sacrament."

Romance looked deeply unimpressed. "I'm starting to think we should've let her burn you."

Abby didn't seem offended, his mood too good that it broke the meter.

Jinu appears from down the hallway. He blinked at them, already annoyed. "Are we having a meeting here or—?"

His words cut off when he saw the sketchbook in Abby's arms. He stopped walking, his eyebrows furrowing. "You didn't steal that, right?"

"For the last time." Abby groaned dramatically. "She let me borrow it."

He placed one hand over his heart. "Do I look like a thief?"

"Yes." Baby, Jinu, and Romance all said in unison while Mystery only nodded.

Jinu squinted, skeptical. "And she just handed that over?"

Abby flashes a toothy smile. "With the grace of a woman who knows quality when she sees it."

"...So she was hypnotized."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Jinu."

Mystery remained silent, but his arms slowly folded. He looked at Abby like he was trying to find the exact moment he lost all respect for him. (It might've been now.)

Romance sighed and gave up trying to rationalize it.

So naturally, they opened it.

Abby was chill so maybe whatever's inside wasn't horrible? No data collections or death panels. Probably.

And also, Abby was glowing. Not in the supernatural way (for once), but in that "I knew it" kind of way that came with unbearable levels of smugness.

Without another word, he opened the book again. (He refuses to hand it over) Though instead of the first page, Abby just resorted to continuing on where he left off.

Not that they knew.

The first page they saw was a drawing of Baby and Jinu yelling at each other—with you in the background holding a sign that read: "Both of them are wrong. I just don't have the energy to argue."

They flipped again.

There were more. Some ridiculous. Some terrifying. One had Romance and Baby in bunny suits dancing under a disco ball.

Another had Jinu mid-sneeze with a line that said 'Bless you, you cursed little man.'

Then came the sketch where Abby was floating outside your window with glowing eyes and a handwritten caption: "Ghost of Unpaid Rent."

He was labeled 'Menace, Grade A' in the corner, with little sparkles around his head and an arrow pointing to your drawn self screaming inside the apartment.

Baby was drawn curled up on top of the copier, limbs dangling off the edges like a spoiled housecat who had declared the office equipment his throne.

There were papers flying out of the machine, most of which had blurry selfies of his face on them. One paw (hand) was slapping the copy button lazily, over and over.

You were drawn in the corner, screaming silently into a folder.

The caption beneath it read: Day 2. I've started negotiating with God. He hasn't responded. Probably because Baby threatened him first.

A Post-it was stuck to the corner of the page with an added note:

"I sprayed him with water. He winked. I think it made him stronger."

Next to it, there was a doodle of a smug cartoon cat, slouching in a shoebox labeled 'Do not disturb unless you're ready to be emotionally attacked.' The cat wore tiny sunglasses. The resemblance was alarming.

Baby stared at the drawing. Then stared harder.

"…I look good." He announced, looking somewhat proud. Either because of the drawing itself or it was you who drew it while thinking of him. Or maybe both.

Jinu snorts at him. "You look like a possessed raccoon."

"Exactly." Baby grinned, completely unbothered. "Handsome. Untouchable. The moment."

Romance tilted his head. "You're a cat. Slapping a copier."

"I'm the cat." Baby corrected, tapping the page. "This is art. She gets me."

"You're in a box labeled 'Do not disturb unless you're ready to be emotionally attacked.'" Abby read flatly, brows raised.

Baby smirked wider. "Tell me that's not accurate."

Baby leaned back smugly, arms behind his head. "Can't believe I live rent-free in her head and her sketchbook. What a life."

"She sprayed you with water." Romance pointed out, holding back a laugh.

"She drew me surviving it." Baby shrugged. "Only makes me stronger."

Mystery didn't say anything. But he did flip the page like even he had enough.

Jinu stared at the drawing.

A crown. A sash. The words "King of losers!" printed in bold, cursed lettering. The others were all kneeling dramatically around him like his loyal minions.

There was a beat of silence before he scoffed.

"Well," He said with a hand on his hip, "She got the royal part right."

Romance tilted his head. "Did she though? It's giving more... dethroned monarch who got kicked out for embezzlement."

"Wrong. I'm clearly adored." Jinu flipped his hair with dangerous precision. "Look how everyone's bowing. Even you, Baby. I should frame this."

"Frame it and I'll draw a mustache on you." Baby said, unimpressed.

"Oh no. Anything but facial hair." Jinu said dryly, already miming where he'd hang the sketch on a nonexistent wall. "I think above the bed. Or the throne. Whichever comes first."

"You don't have a throne." Romance states while the others hummed in agreement.

"Yet."

Abby clapped him on the back. "Buddy, she just publicly declared you the supreme loser."

"And she drew it," Jinu grinned. "Which means [Y/n] thought about me. Emotionally. That's art. It proves that despite everything, she still likes me."

Mystery blinked. Even he found this absurd. "You sound insane."

Jinu replied with his chin up, "I sound royal."

Yeah, they had enough. Abby turned the page.

Then came Mystery.

He was sketched multiple times—always in the background. In windows. Reflections. Crouching behind potted plants. One drawing had red circles around his eyes like a cryptid sighting, labeled:

"Proof he exists (???)"

And underneath it, your handwriting scrawled: "Seen only during 3AM snack runs. Leaves no footprints. Possibly floats."

Baby side-eyed him. So far drawings of his friend were 'mild' compared to them.

"Favoritism..." Jinu mutters with narrowed eyes, also noticing it. (He said it before, he'll say it again)

Mystery blinked slowly. Then flipped the page himself.

All five of them, in the rehearsal studio. Abby lying on top of the prop table like it was a chaise lounge. Jinu standing on a chair arguing with the director's notes.

Baby was trying to mic-tape his face like a mustache. Romance sipped your very obviously labeled thermos.

And Mystery, for some reason, was sitting on the stack of foldable chairs in the corner, watching all of it happen like he was above mortality.

You, meanwhile, were drawn half-sitting, half-falling on the floor with a bundle of tangled cords in your arms.

You had a speech bubble that read: "Are they even idols? They rehearse for ten minutes then torment me for the next three hours."

The caption beneath it: "Maybe this is my hell. Maybe I offended a sea witch. Maybe I didn't hold the elevator for someone and this is cosmic justice."

At this point Jinu was now convinced this is your kind of your humor.

And then came the threat.

The one Mystery still remembered clearly, mostly because he'd spent the whole day trying to decode what "suspicious things" meant.

A sketch of Baby and Jinu.

Kissing.

Violently.

Beneath the drawing, you had written: "Keep testing me and this becomes canon. Watch out Romance and Abby."

Baby recoiled like he'd just seen his future flash before his eyes and it owed him money.

"...No. Absolutely not." He hissed, staring like the paper personally offended him. "Is this legal? Can she do this?"

Jinu just stared, expression blank. He was silent and processing whatever that was you drew.

Then, very calmly, he said, "I'm setting that thing on fire."

"Don't you dare." Abby frowned for a second then grinned as he held the book tighter to his chest. "This is proof she likes me more."

"You can have that delusion," Jinu snapped, "but this—" he jabbed a finger at the page "—is psychological warfare."

Romance leaned over for a peek and blinked. "Oh wow. There's shading. She spent time on this."

Mystery said nothing. Just turned to the next page like he was trying to erase the last ten seconds of his life.

Romance doubled over laughing.

Mystery exhaled through his nose. Barely. Which was basically a wheeze by his standards.

"…Wait." Baby said slowly, brow furrowing as he squinted down at the sketchbook again. "Where's Mystery?"

The laughter stopped and they all turned back to the page.

Romance leaned in like he’d misread something. "She only threatened four of us."

Abby blinked, flipping the page back just to be sure. "...That's true."

Jinu's gaze sharpened. "That can't be right."

But there it was. Just beneath the drawing of Baby and Jinu kissing like it was a war crime, and beside the note that had Romance and Abby explicitly name-dropped.

A tiny, passing doodle. Casual. Effortless.

'Mystery… kinda safe, ig'

Abby recoiled like he’d been slapped. "Wow. Wow. She even hesitated putting you in danger. Look at that lowercase energy. That's affection. That's favoritism. That's emotional treason."

Romance leaned in again. "You're the favorite. I'm telling you."

Mystery tilted his head, as if considering this deeply. "Neat."

That one word was enough to send everyone into a spiral.

"No." Jinu said tightly, brows twitching. "No. We are not doing this. I know what this is. This is war."

"You're just mad she called you a 'cursed little man.'" Abby muttered.

"She did more than that!" Jinu snapped, voice shooting an octave higher as he jabbed a finger at the drawing like it committed slander.

Then he paused.

Straightened his back. Smoothed down an invisible wrinkle on his shirt. Cleared his throat like a prince about to deliver closing arguments in a courtroom.

"Ahem, 'Bless you, you cursed little man.'" He recited flatly, every syllable laced with quiet fury. "She weaponized politeness. That's a hate crime."

"I got called a spoiled cat and she still gave me sunglasses," Baby grumbled, crossing his arms. "And this guy—" He pointed at Mystery like he was snitching in court. "—gets a diplomatic immunity clause?"

Mystery blinked at them. "I didn't do anything."

"Exactly the problem." Jinu muttered, doing his best to keep his tone civilized and failing.

Abby turned the sketchbook toward them again and jabbed a finger at the corner of the page. "'Mystery… kinda safe, I guess.'" He read, voice filled with righteous fury.

Baby squinted at it. "Kinda safe." He echoed like it personally wounded him.

"She didn't even fully commit to complimenting you." Jinu scoffed, struggling to keep his composure. "That's worse. That's passive favoritism."

"This feels rigged." Baby said it lightly, almost casual—except for the way he side-eyed Mystery like tomorrow was already scheduled for revenge. "She gave me cat sunglasses, and gave him a pardon."

"You literally broke into the supply closet last night and used her office chair as a ladder." Abby snapped.

Romance raised a brow. "Are you jealous?"

Baby didn't even blink. "I'm confused." He said flatly, tone smooth as ever—too smooth. Like he'd already rerouted the emotion into something more useful. "And offended."

Jealous? Please. As if he'd admit to that. Even to himself.

"She gave me a tragic teacup breakdown." Romance added, rubbing his temple. "Meanwhile, he got a Get-Out-Of-Roast-Free pass."

"She said you cried." Baby pointed out. The former only shrugged at him.

"I got called 'king of losers.'" Jinu hissed, voice low and bitter. He practically dared them to top that humiliation.

"She chased me with a fork." Baby added, casual but pointed. Like he’d been waiting to bring that up again.

"She called me basic." Abby said after a blink, one of those slow, thousand-yard stares like he was reliving a nightmare. A war flashback, straight from 3 days ago.

The room went quiet.

Abby's voice dropped to a whisper. "It still echoes in my head at night."

Baby looked like he had to bite back a laugh when he shared look with the others. "Who's most beloved now."

Abby snapped his head toward them, basically glaring. "You don't understand. That's why I joined the stupid challenge. I deserve redemption."

"I got head-pats." Mystery chimed in.

Four heads turned toward him.

"Called me cute, too." He added while meeting their gazes, unbothered and simply proud, maybe even overjoyed. "Also... 'Baby.'"

Actual Baby twitched, his shoulders stiff and jaw tight. Like Mystery had just defiled his name in real-time.

"Oh, you're done tomorrow." Abby muttered.

Jinu's face went unnervingly still—cold, calculating, and so openly vengeful it was clear he'd stopped pretending not to be plotting emotional sabotage.

Romance noticed their leader and nodded his head in approval of whatever the former was cooking.

And Mystery? He just turned the page.

And just when they thought it couldn't get worse—there it was.

A soft page. A shift in tone.

You'd drawn them in moments they clearly didn't notice. The sight made them forget the previous page. (for now)

Romance with his head tilted as he tuned a guitar, expression oddly serene.

You'd written beside it: "When he stops talking, he looks almost… poetic. But don't tell him. Ever."

Jinu, caught mid-yawn, hoodie half-on, sprawled on the greenroom floor like someone unplugged him.

A soft note beneath it read: "Still a jerk. But weirdly peaceful when asleep. Must be the only time."

Mystery, drawn in profile, alone at the stairwell window. You'd captured the shadows under his eyes. The slant of light across his cheek.

All it said was: "Still as a ghost. Probably judging everyone. I would, too. Quiet like it's a power move. Whatever. It's kinda cool."

Then Baby. who was mid-laugh, one eye squinted, head thrown back at something you couldn't see. The motion was messy. Light. Alive.

You scribbled beside it: "Ugh. Fine. He's got a nice smile. Disgusting."

And finally, Abby. He was drawn from the back. Slouched on the rooftop ledge. Hoodie up. Earbuds in. Sunset behind him. You'd shaded it with more care than the others. As if you were afraid of ruining it.

No caption. Just a heart, scratched out once, then drawn again beside it.

No one spoke.

The room, which was moments ago bubbling with pettiness and sabotage, turned so quiet you could hear Romance blink.

Mystery was still, eyes on the page like he hadn't just exposed them all to emotional whiplash. He turned it again.

Another page.

Another quiet sketch.

And then another.

Romance swallowed first. "...She drew me like a sonnet." He whispered.

"You would think that's romantic" Baby muttered, but it lacked the bite. He was too busy staring at his own sketch, the one where he was laughing. Laughing, like he wasn't plotting crimes five minutes before.

"She said I had a nice smile." He added, softer this time. Then, like he realized it out loud, he frowned and leaned back. "That's disgusting."

Abby hadn't moved since seeing his drawing. Still clutching the sketchbook like it was sacred scripture.

"She drew the sunset..." He murmured. "From my perspective. That's...she saw me. I mean really saw—"

"Get a grip." Jinu hissed. Except his voice cracked halfway through.

He cleared his throat. Sat back with the practiced indifference of a man actively pretending he wasn't touched.

"She...must've drawn that when I dozed off." He said, eyes lingering on his own sketch. "Still a jerk? Seriously?" But his hand twitched like he was about to flip back to it. Again.

Mystery, still unmoving, just said, "She saw the light."

Romance blinked. "...Are you talking about the sketch or, like, metaphorically?"

Mystery only nods.

"..."

Abby wiped a hand down his face. "We were going to emotionally ruin her tomorrow."

"We still can." Baby said.

But no one sounded committed. Including him.

The next few pages shifted again.

Random characters you'd doodled on a whim. Some looked half-human, others completely monstrous—fangs, claws, elegant horns spiraling across the page.

Then came a string of gorgeous, fictional men. All sharp jaws and slanted eyes, bare shoulders and complicated armor. Some looked like swords-for-hire with tragic pasts. Others were clearly just soft pretty boys with luscious lashes and cheekbones that could slice bread.

One had demon horns. Another had earrings. Another had…a tail.

They stared.

Baby leaned in with a frown. "Who the hell is this supposed to be?"

"Her type." Jinu said dryly, eyeing the silver-haired swordsman with a six-pack.

Romance squinted at the page like it hurt his pride. "Looks like her type is emotional damage and abs."

"She has taste." Abby said, suspiciously quick to defend you.

"She has fantasies." Jinu added, flipping another page. "And a very active imagination."

Mystery just blinked once. "...This one has wings."

"I could wear wings." Baby said abruptly. "Like a cool cape. Or a feather coat."

"You'd look like a drowned pigeon." Jinu muttered and maybe even snickered at his imagination.

Baby scowled. "I could pull it off."

Yeah, they all knew he could.

Even Jinu knew it. That’s why he was still snickering, low and petty.

Baby crossed his arms, unimpressed but unbothered. "She called me a cat. I can do birds. I contain multitudes."

Romance raised a brow. "You'd preen all day."

"I already do." Baby replied smugly.

Mystery nodded once in agreement, like this was a known fact.

Romance leaned over, chin on Abby's shoulder, and sighed dramatically. "Wow. She really went in with the detail. Is this guy holding a sword with his mouth?"

"I think that's an earring," Abby said, already knowing what he'd do first thing in the morning. "But he is shirtless."

A long pause.

Baby tilted his head, voice smooth, almost bored. "If she wanted a shirtless model, all she had to do was ask."

He didn't even blink when all four of them stared at him like he'd just threatened world peace. Just that same smug little smile like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"It's not about the abs." Jinu said, arms crossed. "It's the brooding. That man looks like he's carrying five backstories."

"And a ghost lover." Baby added.

Romance nodded solemnly. "We're going to need…mood lighting."

They stared at the page a beat longer. Long enough to realize just how much effort you put into it.

Then Abby flipped to the next page.

There they were. In various candid sketches—practice pieces. Messy strokes. Shading studies. Notes scribbled on the side like:

"Jinu's jawline is unfair. Might have been chiseled by guilt and generational trauma."

"Romance's hair is shaped like a heart. Literally. This man is a walking valentine. I hate it here."

"Baby's lashes are too long. For what. Why."

"Mystery's silhouette at the vending machine—lighting test. Eerie but weirdly pretty."

"Abby's profile is great when he shuts up. Rare."

Baby barked a low, amused laugh. "Okay. Rude. But fine. I do have great lashes."

"You would cling to that." Jinu muttered, though he lingered on the jawline comment like he was trying to decide if it was a compliment. "...Unfair?" He repeated under his breath. "What does that even mean."

Romance was staring at his line in betrayal. "Heart-shaped?" He echoed. Then, smugly, far too smugly, he tossed his hair like he was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

"Well. She's not wrong. I do radiate effortless appeal."

"She literally called you a valentine." Baby said, arms crossed. "Do you want a bow on your forehead or something?"

Romance raised his brows and smirked. "I can be gift-wrapped."

"I will set you on fire." Baby said sweetly.

Mystery, quiet as ever, was still focused on the vending machine sketch. His expression barely changed, but he tapped the edge of the page once. Thoughtful. Like he was mentally reconstructing the light and shadow.

"She noticed that?" He murmured.

Abby leaned in beside him. "Dude. You stood there like a cursed statue for twenty minutes. You were glowing."

Mystery looked at him. "I like vending machine light."

Baby made a strangled noise and slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

Meanwhile, Jinu's brow twitched again. He squinted down at his line like it was a personal attack. It didn't click with him earlier.

"'Chiseled by guilt?'" He muttered. "I should sue."

"You should moisturize." Abby said, unbothered.

Romance chuckled. "At least you got chiseled. I got Cupid-coded."

"You're shaped like an ego." Baby deadpanned.

"Thank you." Romance replied brightly.

"Not a compliment."

"You said 'shaped like love.'"

"I said you look like a valentine. Those get thrown out." Baby smirked like he'd just dropped the mic.

But then, Abby found his line.

He went quiet. Then read it aloud, slowly, as if tasting every word:

"'Abby's profile is great when he shuts up. Rare.'"

He gawked at the words for a few more seconds.

"She watches me."

Jinu rolled his eyes. "She suffers through you."

"No—studies me." Abby said, clutching the sketchbook with reverence. "She's memorized my angles. My profile. This is a confession. An apology. A love letter in disguise."

"She said you talk too much." Baby pointed out.

"She said I look great." Abby countered, eyes wide with genuine delight. "And you know what? She's right. I am rare. Like a fine wine. Like a star aligning. Like a—"

Jinu raised a brow, bored. "Like a fungus. Persistent, irritating, and hard to get rid of."

Abby gasped, scandalized. "How dare—!"

"I dare hourly." Jinu said, folding his arms with a smirk. "And I'll do it again."

Romance snorted. "You're all so fragile."

"You just flipped your hair twice." Baby muttered.

"And both times it was magnificent."

Mystery watched them banter for a moment longer, expression unreadable beneath his bangs.

Then, wordlessly, he glanced back at the drawing—his own silhouette under vending machine light. He lingered on it this time, thumb brushing the edge of the page like he was seeing it anew.

A quiet huff of breath, almost a laugh. His mouth curved, just faintly.

Abby cleared his throat, then held the sketchbook a little closer to his chest. His grin dimmed into something smaller. Still amused. But softer.

"Focus." He said. "She captured all of us. That means we're eternal. Immortal. Muse-level icons."

Romance tipped his chin. "She drew my hair like poetry."

"I was slandered with lashes." Baby grumbled.

Jinu stared down at his note again, deadpan. "'Chiseled by guilt and generational trauma.'" He sighed. "She didn't draw me, she diagnosed me."

Mystery didn't say anything but smiled gently. He flipped back to the vending machine drawing and stared, basically admiring it.

But of course they had to check for some more.

They stared for a long beat.

Romance hadn't moved for the past three pages. The soup had gone cold in his hands, completely forgotten as he leaned in with the others, eyes scanning the final set of sketches.

Quiet, unfinished ones. You hadn't meant to show these.

There was one of Abby with his head down on the breakroom table, fast asleep mid-rant. One of Baby leaning back in a chair, still as ever, like the moment caught him off guard.

Jinu laughing, hand covering his face. Mystery sipping coffee in the early morning haze. Romance, caught mid-spin during one of his practice routines, looking like he actually belonged on a stage.

None of them said anything. Not at first.

Then Abby let out a low whistle. "Doomed, she is."

"Agreed." Romance murmured.

"Do we tell her?" Baby asked, eyes glinting with the kind of mischief that spelled nothing but chaos. "Or let her stew in suspense?"

Jinu grinned, matching the former's energy. "We weaponize this."

Mystery didn't speak, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

From the other side of the room:

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face.

They were still out there.

"…Didn't Abby say 'goodnight' already?" You mumbled. "It's been fifteen minutes. What are they doing, summoning demons? Planning a musical?"

Another chorus of remarks about your drawings and little side notes made you want to bury yourself under a hundred blankets and a rock.

Your eyes flicked to the door. You were debating whether to throw it open and yell, or crawl out the window and change your name.

And just to make everything worse? Your stomach growled.

Loudly.

You dragged a pillow over your face.

Why were they so obsessed with that sketchbook anyway? Jinu asked for it like it was sacred currency. Not even cash. And this was the same guy who called your mattress a "commoner bed." (Dick. Ridiculously pretty, but still.)

You didn't even want to think about the rest of them. They were rich, nosy, and clearly had nothing better to do than rip apart your art like it was state evidence.

They probably expected praise. Or bribes. Or attention. (And maybe you gave them that. Once. Briefly. While concussed.)

But still.

The sketchbook? That was weird. And a little flattering. And… okay, really flattering. But you need sleep.

You peeked out from under the pillow. Nope. Still loud. They sounded like they were bartering for pieces of your soul.

And that was enough for you to move out of the comfortable bed.

The door creaked open with the weight of divine wrath.

And there you were—hair a mess, expression hollow, wearing the kind of dead-eyed stare only the sleep-deprived and soul-shattered could pull off.

Your injured arm was still wrapped, your— Baby's hoodie slipping off one shoulder, and your entire aura screamed: You were this close to snapping.

The boys froze.

Five grown men. Silenced in an instant.

Romance still held the bowl of soup like an offering to a war goddess. His arms went stiff while he suddenly remembered his original purpose.

Abby slowly lowered the sketchbook behind his back as if he was afraid you'd take back his privilege on it. He's already planned to skim through this, his scenes to be exact so you can't.

Nobody breathed.

You looked at each of them. One by one. No words yet. Just eyes.

Baby stood straighter on instinct, locking eyes with you like it was a test. A flicker of something passed behind his lashes—surprise, amusement, respect, a twist of pride—but he didn't speak.

Didn't dare.

He just inhaled sharply through his teeth and let it hang in the air. Calculating.

Jinu blinked, and for once, visibly faltered. He actually took a half-step back, as if your glare had weight and presence.

"Okay," He said under his breath. "She's terrifying again."

Mystery raised one hand and slowly covered his mouth. Whether it was to hide a grin or out of self-preservation, no one could tell.

Romance's lips parted like he was about to say something flirty but chose to be smart and closed them. He blinked once. Twice. And stood still.

Even Abby, smug as he was earlier, froze like a man trying not to spook a bear.

You opened your mouth. And in a voice flat, tired, and sharp enough to kill:

"Shut up."

Mouths shut.

Even Romance's soup almost shivered.

You dragged a hand down your face. "I have been trying to sleep. I have been trying to exist. And you—"

You pointed at Abby, then slowly gestured across the rest, like you were condemning them all to community service.

"You've been out here narrating my sketchbook like it's a damn novella."

Jinu opened his mouth to speak.

You raised a finger.

He shut it.

Your stomach growled again.

And with the most exhausted sigh known to mankind, you nodded toward the soup. "Gimme that."

Romance stepped forward and held it out carefully, like handing over a precious relic.

You took it and said a quick thank you. No matter how angry and tired you were, you still needed to show gratitude.

After that, you turned around like a ghost, the door already swinging shut behind you.

But then you paused and looked back over your shoulder.

"...If I hear one more thing about Cupid, eyelashes, or emotional damage, I'm jumping out the window. Try me."

Door slam.

Silence.

They stood there, stunned into stillness. Then, very quietly, reverently, like he was witnessing a divine act:

Romance exhaled, slow and reverent. "She's so hot when she's angry."

"She said she'd jump out the window." Mystery cut in, tone flat before the others could add in their own reactions.

They all froze. A slow, dawning realization crept in.

Baby clicked his tongue. "...She might actually do it."

"A hundred percent." Jinu nodded without a second thought. "Wouldn't even hesitate."

Romance sighed, adjusting the soup bowl in his hands like it was suddenly heavier. "Can you blame her?"

"Nope." Baby said with a lazy gaze. "I'd jump too."

"Do we stop her?" Abby asked weakly.

Jinu shrugged. "We can catch her."

Romance grinned. "Or join her."

Mystery finally spoke again, voice soft like a threat: "We wait at the bottom."

Later that night, well past midnight…

They were still awake.

The apartment had gone quiet in that strange, heavy way it did only after all the laughter faded—leaving the charged tension behind, like static clinging to skin.

Abby was on the couch, legs crossed, flipping casually through the sketchbook like it was a sacred relic.

He wore an expression that could only be described as smug aristocracy. As if he had won.

Across from him, Jinu stood with arms crossed and eyes narrowed, like a general preparing a diplomatic attack.

"I'm offering you five favors." Jinu began, dead serious.

Abby didn't even look up. "Declined."

The former scoffs, offended. "You don't even know what they are."

"I know it's not the sketchbook."

"I'll throw in a back massage."

"Jinu, no amount of blackmail or physical affection is getting you this book."

Jinu narrowed his eyes further. "You're bluffing. You want something."

"Yes," Abby said, closing the book slowly and dramatically. "To continue living. With her favor. Which I currently have. Because she handed me this personally."

Jinu muttered something demonic under his breath. It sounded like a curse or maybe a marriage proposal. Hard to tell.

Romance, curled up at the end of the couch with a half-eaten protein bar, raised his hand without lifting his head. "I'll sing you praises for a week. Out loud. In rhyme."

"Tempting," Abby mused. "but also sounds like a headache."

Baby padded into the room, popped a chili pepper into his mouth, crunched slowly, then said with absolute calm, "No sketchbook? Cool. Then your next water bottle's going to taste like regret."

Abby stared. "What does that even mean—"

Baby only gave an enigmatic smile as he continued to eat his peppers. "You'll find out."

There was a pause. Abby clutched the sketchbook a little closer, suddenly feeling like the air got hotter.

"…Is that a threat or a curse?" He muttered.

No answer. Just the sound of another chili crunch.

Abby flipped the book open again, not even pretending to entertain it now. "You guys don't get it. This sketchbook is proof. Not just that she tolerates me. But that she chose me."

Romance tilted his head. "You're not her chosen one. You're her chosen distraction."

Mystery didn't speak. He just sipped his drink without blinking, staring directly at Abby over the rim.

That was worse. Way worse.

"That's not what happened." Abby said proudly, hugging the book to his chest and ignoring Mystery's thing. "She handed it to me. Me. She knows art deserves art."

"You're art now?" Jinu asked, offended on behalf of all creative history.

"Art and muse. Model and icon. Multi-talented."

They stared at him. He grinned wider.

Silence.

Romance nudged Jinu. "We're going to steal it eventually, right?"

"Obviously."

"Good. Just checking."

Mystery nodded after sharing a look with the demon beside him.

Baby grinned. "I'll hold him down."

Abby just closed the book and stood up. "I'll sleep with this under my pillow now."

"You're insane." Jinu muttered, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. His tone was flat, but the twitch in his jaw gave him away.

"She was supposed to give it tomorrow." He huffs, a little pout seen on his lips. "After I convinced her to stay. You stole the climax, Abby."

Abby just grinned, smug and undeterred. "Should've moved faster."

"I was building tension!" Jinu snapped. Then, muttering under his breath as he turned away: "Some of us are storytellers. Not speedrunners."