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I own nothing. Nada. Zip, zilch, zero. I defieneatly don't own Raven (because, when it comes down to it, she scares the living shit out of everyone and only those who created her own her, becasue only they have the guts. And the files).

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The soft brush of a cape against bare skin.

The even softer fwap, fwap of the turning pages of her book.

The Ice Queen, as Beast Boy had called her once or twice, was having a hard time meditating. She was thinking about various things...

Her father.

Trigon.

Dad.

Demons (Inner and Outer)

His Red and White.

Her own Black, and Purple, and Grey.

Hatred.

Love.

Releif.

Despair.

Her teamates.

Bouncy.

Upbeat.

Romantics..

Serious.

Corny.

Backstabbing...

Terra.

Betrayal.

Blonde.

Nice.

So open...

Naive.

Untrustworthy.

Brave.

Broken.

Her 'kids'.

Three.

Then four.

Imagination.

Power.

Untapped.

Sleepy.

Helpless.

Hopeful, always.

Young.

Innocent.

The mistakeningly labeled 'gothic' member of the Teen titans pondered what her mother would have thought of her, could she see her daughter.

Would she be dissapointed, at how close things had come to being unbeatable --

or proud, that things had turned out so well right now?