A/N: This story started as drawings that developed into a background. I needed to get this jotted down before I forgot it! This happens…eh, about seventeen years after Things Change…yeah, that'll work. Basically, this takes on the POV of Beast Boy and Terra's daughter, who I, after careful consideration and lots of going back and forth, have decided to name Isabell. Hey, it's better than the other names I came up with. I'll add a link with some of my drawings later.
Rated: T
My mom would always tell me stories about the Teen Titans. She said that they were a group of superheroes who protected Jump City before I was born.
Robin, the leader, was a master in martial arts, and always managed to pull them out of danger with his ability to think on his feet. Cyborg was the tech master of the team, as well as the builder of their tower and all their modes of transportation. Raven was a telepathic sorceress who could easily use her mind to get them out of a pinch. Starfire was a strong, laser-shooting alien who kept the team together with her kindness. Terra was a geomancer with a complicated past.
The one she told me the most about was Beast Boy. He was a shape-shifter, and the comic relief of the team. She would tell me about how much he and Terra loved each other, and about how he wouldn't give up getting her back on the team, even after all the terrible things she'd done.
Whenever she told me these stories, it was with a fond edge that I pretended not to notice.
She never told me about her past, though. Whenever I asked, she always said "I'll tell you soon. It's pretty complicated." This always frustrated me, because I've always wondered about who my dad is, mostly because she always remarks that I look a lot like him.
Of course, this always makes me want to know who he is even more.
I'm lean and skinny with dark green eyes and blonde hair that, for some reason, has a single streak of green in it. Apparently, I was born with it, and it wouldn't go away no matter what. Finally, I gave up and started parting my hair so that the patch of green covered my left eye. Of course, this was a bit hard to explain when I was younger. Preschool teachers don't like seeing four-year-old girls with green hair.
Me: Eep! I like it already! Must…write…more!
Is: Why do I get the feeling you know something I don't?
Me: Because I do.
Is: Tell me!
Me: I'll tell you soon. It's pretty complicated.
Is: You sound just like my mom…