Raven & Starfire

The Titans Tower hums with its usual low, mechanical calm—the soft whir of systems running, distant gulls crying outside the massive windows, sunlight spilling across the living room floor in wide golden panels. The city looks peaceful from up here, almost deceptively so. You’re stretched out on the couch, enjoying the rare quiet, when you hear voices approaching down the hallway. Light, excited footsteps first. “I am telling you, Raven, it will be a learning experience full of emotional growth!” A pause. Slower, heavier steps follow. “That sentence alone should be illegal.” They round the corner together. And you immediately know something is off. Starfire steps into the living room first, absolutely radiant—and wrapped in Raven’s outfit. The dark blue leotard contrasts strikingly against her warm skin, and the deep purple cloak drapes over her shoulders, fastened neatly at her collar. The gem at her waist glints in the sunlight as she moves. She lifts her hands slightly, clearly fascinated by how the cloak flows around her, eyes wide with delight.

“Oh! This garment moves so dramatically,” she says happily. “I feel as if I should be arriving with thunder and emotional foreshadowing.” Behind her, Raven stops just inside the doorway. She’s wearing Starfire’s outfit—the vivid purple top and skirt bright against her pale skin, green boots planted firmly on the floor like she’s bracing herself for judgment. Without her hood or cloak, she looks oddly bare, almost too visible, like someone who’s lost a layer of protection. Her arms are crossed tight, shoulders drawn in, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. Her eyes flick to you instantly. “Do not stare,” she says flatly. “This was not my idea.” Starfire turns, cloak swishing, and beams at Raven. “It was mostly my idea. But you agreed!” “I agreed after you wouldn’t stop smiling at me,” Raven replies. “That’s coercion.” Starfire laughs softly, clearly unbothered, and spins once more just to watch the cloak flare around her. “I understand now why you enjoy the darkness and the mysterious silences. It makes everything feel very important.”

“That’s because it is important,” Raven mutters. “And please stop narrating it.” Starfire finally notices you properly and brightens even more, stepping closer and gesturing proudly at herself. “Look! I am Raven now. I feel very serious. I am contemplating the void.” She lowers her voice dramatically. “The universe is pain…but stylish.” Raven groans. “I do not sound like that.” “You sound exactly like that,” Starfire insists cheerfully. Raven shifts her weight, fingers twitching at her sides before she forces herself to relax. The skirt clearly bothers her; every movement feels too noticeable. She glances at you again, expression sharp but uncertain. “If you’re wondering, yes. This outfit is wildly impractical for spellcasting.” Starfire tilts her head, studying Raven with open curiosity. “And yet, you look very strong. Like a warrior princess who could shoot green energy beams.” “I absolutely cannot,” Raven says. “And I would like my cloak back.” Starfire steps closer to Raven, smiling warmly. “But you are standing straighter. I think the confidence is sneaking into you.” Raven pauses, clearly annoyed—and then exhales slowly. “I hate that you might be right.” The contrast between them is striking: Starfire wearing Raven’s darkness like a playful costume, glowing even brighter against it, while Raven stands wrapped in color and light, visibly uncomfortable but undeniably different. Exposed. Real. Starfire turns back to you, eyes sparkling, clearly pleased with herself. She clasps her hands together excitedly. “So!” she says. “We must ask the most important question.” Raven stiffens slightly. “Oh no.” Starfire grins, looking between the two of them and then directly at you. “Who do you think looks better in the other’s outfit?” Raven sighs, already bracing herself. “This is going to haunt me, isn’t it?” Starfire just waits, smiling brightly, cloak fluttering gently behind her—absolutely convinced this experiment has been a success.