Title: Scapegoat
Rating: K
Summary: The earth is always there, but it isn't your friend; you don't trust it, though you need it. If anything, if you had to choose a form of nature to personify, you would choose the stars.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans, and I also don't own the headcanon that inspired this entire collection - that headcanon being #422 from teentitansheadcanons tumblr.

A plot? What's that? Who needs that? Who wants that?!

Updates: I am working on Entropy and Azarath, I promise! I decided to update on FanFiction, on my profile - and I even have sneak peeks available for Azarath! So check it out :)

You're on the run again.

This time, it wasn't your fault; it really wasn't. You know when it's your fault, you can feel it in the air around you, the tremors and quakes and vibrations of the energy that follows you faithfully, even when everyone leaves you behind, or worse, forces you out. This time, the world around you is silent, and this time, you're not lying when you insist it's an accident. But no one cares about what you have to say; no one wants to let the death of a child pass unpunished, and they are looking for a scapegoat they can pin the blame on, and you are there, and the forces of nature are elusive.

"Please," you plead, "please, this isn't my fault, it really isn't." The same words spill from your lips over and over again, and you're so desperate, you're trying so hard, you don't know how to convey the deepest sincerity of your innocence and you know that whatever you do, they will only call you a convincing liar, but you try anyway, because this is the closest thing to home you've been ever to find and you're running out of places to go.

Perfectly in sync, each man and woman and child crosses their arms and shakes their head. Eyes are empty, faces are hard, and their will is set in stone. You are unofficially banished from civilization.

Head hung and neck weary, you leave. You don't look back. You pretend you don't hear the whispers of triumph behind you. You pretend that you chose to leave. You pretend you're not crying. You pretend you're not praying for your parents to come find you and teach you how to be yourself without hurting anyone.

It's night, and you're on the ground, the cool earth that helps you sometimes and abandons you other times. You don't know whether you hate the earth or not, but it's always there in a way that everything else isn't. It's a warm summer night and the wind is refreshing in the humidity of the South; you weave your fingers together behind your head and stare up.

The earth is always there, but it isn't your friend; you don't trust it, though you need it. If anything, if you had to choose a form of nature to personify, you would choose the stars.

You run a lot. Whether it be towards to or away from, you run as fast as your legs carry you. You know better than anyone how different people are and how that it's okay to be unusual. You know better than anyone how quickly things change, and you know better than anyone that sometimes, it's okay, and sometimes, it's out of your control – just like so much else. But through all of the rocking of the waves and the crash of your comfort zone, the stars have never changed. Steady and constant and four years behind, they give you hope that things will find its way somehow.

You close your eyes and turn to your side, curling up into a ball. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

I was in the mood for some Terra love, or some Terra sympathy, I guess, and this just came. It took about twenty minutes to write. It's short, but I like it a lot. Maybe I'll even turn it into a collection of pre-Teen Titans Terra. Who knows?