I have naturally curly hair but when I get overly stressed (which is quite often) it just. Refuses to curl. Goes from 90s starfire to teen titans starfire with two fuckin’ seconds and stays that way for a month
As such, I have decided that steph (queen of ambiguous hair texture depending on the week) needs to suffer from the same grievance
Jason: *trying to be supportive* rockin’ the straightener today, I see
Steph: nah, that’d be m’chem test. My teacher’s a fuckin’ hardass
Jason:
Steph: *grinning* yo, look at these perfect ringlets I got today!
Cass: wow. You’d better thank your genetics for that
Steph: I’d rather thank joker being back in Arkham
Cass: how does that have to do with anything?
Steph: an unfortunate amount
Dick: hey, Steph, you have any curl cream I can borrow?
Steph: nah, I didn’t replace it when that new villain popped up. Knew I wouldn’t be needin’ it
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press: “… How much time have you spent in saunas preparing?”
piastri: “I haven’t spent any time in a sauna, no. But I’ve got a few portable heaters and a small bathroom and an exercise bike, so [laughs], it’s, yeah, you can cause yourself a lot of discomfort, a lot of pain, so I do that for the benefit of my performance.”
humans are space orks: sleeping with stuffed animals
first of all, I just noticed how werid that name is. Like, youre making it sound like humans enjoy sleeping with dead stuffed animal carcasses. Second, here's how that conversation would go:
Alien: "What is this?" Picks up medium sized purple monkey toy. Squish, squish.
Human: Looks over. "What are you
Human: "Oh my gods give that back right now."
Alien: Confused as the toy is snatched away, trying to reach for it. "But what is it though??"
Human: "It's- it's nothing! S' just Angel. Don't touch her."
Alien: " ' Her? ' "
Alien: "... It looks like a male to me."
Human: "WELL, IT'S NOT. SHE. SHE'S NOT. ahem. I keep Angel next to my pillow at night while I sleep."
Alien: "Why...?"
Human: "For comfort and protection."
Alien: "Oh, can it engage in combat?"
Human: "Of course not."
Alien: "Does she alert you of intruders?"
Human: "No. She doesn't even have a voice box."
Alien: "... Then how could it possibly bring you comfort and protection?"
It just slips out as you climb out of Optimus’ enormous hands, cupped supportively around you. Thanks, dad!
Across the room, Ratchet drops a wrench with a ping and clatter onto the concrete. Jazz bursts into cackles and hoots of laughter. Bumblebee bzzts and hides his face behind his mask, also laughing but trying not to let you see.
You freeze, cringing like you’ve never cringed before. You did NOT just call this military-robo-Pope older than your entire species, “DAD.” You did NOT just call this mech, who is effectively your boss as a cultural ambassador to an entire alien species, “DAD.”
Except you did, and your face is flaming red as you slowly turn to him, apologies springing to your tongue as you imagine with a sinking heart the thrashing you’re going to get from your human handlers when they find out you’ve insulted the leader of the Autobots. Oh god, the Decepticons are going to take over your planet because your parents divorced when you were young and then your father died and it’s been so, so long since you had anyone in your life who made you feel like Optimus does, safe and cared for and wanted. You had started to take it for granted, how gentle he was with you, how it healed something deep inside you every time he picked you up in servos you’d seen rip into Decepticons as if their armor was tinfoil.
You didn’t even feel a flicker of worry anymore in the moments Optimus, a being the size of a living building who could crush you by accident, moved around you with thunderous, titanic footsteps. And when he moved you with the confidence of a father absent-mindedly tugging their toddler out of the way of danger.
You’d gotten too used to it, had come to crave it. And now you went and ruined everything and - no, you have to fix this RIGHT NOW.
I, I’m so sorry, it’s a human thing, sometimes we get words wrong, I apologize sir. You can’t look him in the optic. Maybe he’ll take your lowered eyes and dipped chin as the act of apology, submission, desperation it is. Your heart is pounding and even in the cold air of the base, nervous sweat is breaking out on your skin.
-He’s silent. Why hasn’t he said anything?!
You hold your breath as Optimus’ huge shadow falls over you, and his servo moves closer. One finger bigger than your entire body brushes under your chin, tipping your head up so you have to look at him. Dreading what you’ll see, you capitulate.
And he’s -
The look on his face is not like anything you’ve ever seen. No, wait. You’ve seen it once. When Bumblebee was badly injured, and Optimus stayed by his side around the clock until he was out of danger, talking to him in deep, soft warbles and trills of a language you didn’t understand.
Why is he looking at you like that?
You are welcome, ambassador, is all he says, but you don’t miss the way he lets his servo stroke gently - fondly - brushing your hair out of your eyes, before turning and walking away. Leaving you on the scaffolding that leads to your office, as his footsteps reverberate through you.
He speaks to the others, briskly interrupting their joking, wrangling them like a herd of cats as he changes the subject to the patrol assignments. You look after him, a series of complicated feelings bubbling up in your chest, none of which let you get a word out. Eventually, you turn and make for the shelter of your office, to hide yourself in emails and reports.
Unaware as you go, due to the increasing distance between you - of the tendrils of energy reluctantly wisping away from you where Optimus’ powerful EM field had wrapped itself around you, as intuitively and automatically as it had wrapped around his sparklings so many millennia ago.
You couldn’t pick up on what he was thinking - not yet, anyway, you were sharp and intuitive and empathetic. But he had to wonder, how shocked would you have been to know, as he went about his duties, part of his processor was taken up with thoughts of how fortuitous it was that both your species had found something they needed, in this alliance of mechanical and organic life?
How long had it been since he’d held something small and soft and so alive, so precious? Was it ever since he had doomed his people to a slow extinction?
Such thoughts were kept strictly to himself; these organics are sentient, deserving of respect, and you are an adult by your own people’s reckoning, even if his spark aches with a painful warmth now to know you feel this connection, too. Even if you seem even less willing to acknowledge it than he is - and he will follow your lead. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.
The others aren’t fooled; that laughter had been directed at him, though he doubts you realize that. They know him too well, see his solicitous treatment of you for what it is, what it really means in their society.
Ratchet huffs and comms him on a private line.
Just tell them. You’re not going to chase our allies away because you’re going broody. And it’s not good for your systems, fighting those subroutines every klik. I doubt it’s good for them, either.
Optimus pings him a thank you and a message not as sardonic as he could have made it. Your wisdom is appreciated, old friend.
Ratchet gives him a Look with his EM field, but Optimus keeps the talk to business. Not fooled for a minute. Knowing he’s not the only one keeping a sensor or three trained on the little being in their nook, just across the way.
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soulmate au where people don't receive their marks until they're individually ready for their soulmates (some people never get them at all).
azami receives his mark when you're all teenagers, knows it's you, but decides to wait rather than try to force you into a life or role you don't want or aren't ready for, not like his family. for a long while, he's content with your friendship, with the chance to be by your side where he can be.
(it's something he keeps to himself, even as you date around a bit. you don't flaunt it, annoyed or embarrassed by the teasing you'll endure from them all, but he'll catch snippets here and there, like the couple months that you and shiba try dating half a year before the talks. shiba only learns afterward, equal parts apologetic and frustrated because he never would've done that if he knew.)
he's there for you, constantly, and you feel bad for always needing him. only once or twice does he talk soulmates with you, but never does he mention anything to you (now that he's older, he wants to see the moment you start looking at him the way he looks at you).
one night when the three of you are getting drinks together, shiba asks why in all your dates, you never asked azami.
"that's easy. it's obvious that he already has his soulmark."
his smile is involuntary, the knowledge that it's obvious to you, even if you're otherwise blind to it. "yeah, but it's not like they're ready for me." it only hurts a little when there isn't even a sliver of a reaction from you, no hint of guilt or apology, anything to suggest that you know. the second the thought comes, the second the words slip past his loosened lips, his heart picks up in his chest. "maybe i just want a kiss like shiba got one."
shiba takes his cue, excusing himself to go smoke with a laugh, all while you watch azami with a surprised, if not pleased, smile. you raise a brow as you shift subconsciously, bringing yourself just a little closer.
"yeah? you'd want what shiba got? the kisses and the fucking and all the petty arguments that nearly destroyed our friendship?"
he just needs a taste, just a little something to sustain him for the long haul.
