#of course that cat would pick up on his mannerisms while being a precious sweetheart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quinncupine · 3 years

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Hiiii quinn! I never realised you did requests but if it would be fine (and also because its my sole goal) could you do a boom boom boi and izubby with having their own cat or dog as a pet??? I'm seriously thinking that boom boom boi would be both a cat and dog person, don't u agree? (Ily lots and don't feel pressured to do this if you have a lot of stuff going on!)

Hi Dorki! I'm finally making my way through my requests and I was really excited to write this one! Okay, hope you like it!

Quinns Masterlist

Wanna request something?

The Boys with Pets

Word Count: 1,750

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugo!

Warnings: dogs, cats, cursing

Izuku Midoriya

Now Izuku loves pretty much all animals, but I can totally see him getting a dog. Dogs are loyal and full of energy just like a certain green-haired hero. The perfect duo.

He would probably rescue one from the pound, the one with the biggest, saddest, cutest eyes because how could he not? But someone has to go with him because he'd try to rescue them all if there was no one there to stop him. Once a hero, always a hero I suppose.

I'm thinking for names, he would definitely pick a name that reflects his favorite heroes. Don't be surprised if he names his dog something super cheesy like Mighty or Rocky…

Wait, okay, I've decided, he names his dog Mighty and that is the hill I will die on.

The life of a hero is quite busy so when he goes off on long missions, he drops the dog off at his mom's house. Inko has fallen in love with this sweet pup, so much so that she sometimes begs him to stop by with the dog for a visit. It's the closest thing she's got to grandbabies at the moment, she'll take what she can get :)

Now, this cute pup draws in the attention of just about everyone so he's gotten an influx of attention and a few numbers slipped in his hand during their walks, much to his flustered surprise.

Best wingman ever.

This dog goes on regular runs with Izuku and sometimes even helps him with training. I'm thinking a Collie or an Aussie would just be the perfect fit for him to keep up with his personality and lifestyle. He needs an active dog!

I can see it now, he goes on his daily morning runs with this cute Lil furry training buddy and they race the whole way! A few regulars on the trail know about this and it's become sort of a tradition to cheer the two on as they pass.

...

The morning air was crisp with the slight scent of the coming autumn, the perfect morning for a run. Izuku, dressed in his usual training wear, had a steady rhythm going for the last forty minutes, letting out even, controlled breaths. This was the easy part of the run, a warm-up if anything, and he hadn't even broken a sweat yet. The canine jogging by his side was enjoying the dewy morning air as well, tongue happily flopping out the side of her mouth. The shared morning ritual between man and man's best friend: Mighty.

Her tail picked up speed, wagging uncontrollably as they neared the bend where the giant jagged rock towered over the path. It was the place marker to start the race. A three-mile run to the top of the hill located at the center of the park. It was also Mighty's favorite part of the morning.

"Ready girl?" Izuku grinned down at the ecstatic dog who barked in reply.

The instant the two of them passed the big rock, they both broke out in full speed, leaving behind a cloud of dust. Happy barks filled the air as she gained the upper hand. Izuku laughed as the dog turned to look back at him lagging behind her. He always did these races without his quirk to assist him. It was only fair and it helped him work on his natural stamina in case he was ever in a situation where he couldn't use his quirk. Always good to be prepared.

He watched as she bounded up the first steep hill on the trail. There were a few small hills on this route, but this one was the hardest to climb and Mighty had the advantage with her four legs so she always managed to pull ahead first. She stopped at the top and barked him on before quickly disappearing over the crest.

When he reached the top, he stopped for just a second to take in his surroundings. This part of the park was a heavily wooded area with numerous trails that many people used to hike or run. It also served as a great view of the city skyline and he couldn't help but stop and admire the rising sun from between the foggy buildings every time. Then Mighty barked to pull him out of his thoughts.

"It's not over yet!" He called after her and raced down the hill, putting on an extra burst of speed to easily close the distance.

Tail wagging, she nipped playfully at his feet as they sprinted along the path, side by side. There weren't many people out this early so he usually had the trail to himself. The only sounds were the wind in the trees, the leaves crunching under feet and paws, Mighty barking beside him, and his own unrestrained glee as they ran together.

These were the mornings he loved. Just the two of them, away from the stresses that came with pro-hero work. He wouldn't trade being a hero for anything, but sometimes it got to be too much so coming here to clear his mind with a little run was always a cathartic release, only made better by the furry companion by his side.

The short bridge that arched over the creek signaled the last mile. Getting more serious, Izuku pulled ahead of Mighty, not able to hold back the giant grin as he streaked across the bridge, startling a few birds off the railings which Mighty barked at as she came up behind him.

Up ahead was a large open meadow with a small duck pond near the center. A few benches were scattered about the path and he saw the same elderly couple sitting in their usual spot with a bag of rice and seed to feed the plethora of ducks waddling around their feet.

"You got him this time Mighty!" The old man looked up as the two of them zipped down the path towards the couple.

"Show 'em what girls can do!" The woman cracked a smile, waving her hands.

"Morning Mr. and Mrs. Fujino!" Izuku waved as he passed. "Don't count me out yet!"

Mighty barked her greeting and took a detour, herding some ducks closer to the couple then with a quick lick to Mr. Fujino's hand, she sprinted back to catch up to Izuku.

The Fujino's marked the last leg of the race. The only thing left was to climb the top of the largest hill in the park to the old oak tree at the top. That was the finishing line. It was always a gamble as to who finished first every day, but Mighty sure had a competitive spirit.

Izuku pumped his legs as he steadily made his way up to the dirt trail, Mighty just behind him before she suddenly veered left and disappeared into the shrubbery. He was so focused on the tree that slowly came into view just around the curve as he neared the top that he didn't notice.

Just as the path leveled out, almost to the finish line, he glanced back to see no sign of his dog. The tree was a few feet away when a furry mass ambushed him from the side, knocking him clean off his feet. The pro hero landed in the grass with a heavy Oof. Sitting on his chest was Mighty, looking quite proud of herself.

"Cheater!" He laughed, trying his best to hold back the slobbery licks she was determined to give him. "Okay, okay, I'll call it a tie!"

Katsuki Bakugo

Now Katsuki on the other hand would totally be a cat person. Not that he has anything against dogs, but cats are more his style. They don't need constant attention and are pretty much self-sufficient. Just the way he likes it.

That being said, Katuski would go all out on toys and the latest gizmos to take care of his cat. Has a self-cleaning litter box, a waterfall bowl, an automatic feeder, etc. You get the picture.

Oh, and toys galore. If he has space, this cat is getting a personal jungle gym that lets him walk up to the ceiling. S.P.O.I.L.E.D.

Doesn't like to tell people just how much he actually loves this cat because he's never been one to express emotions, but this cat just gets him to his core. They share the same wavelength and he appreciates that. The cat is the only one he trusts to open up to, so sometimes you might catch him ranting to the poor thing who just stares back with big wide eyes and occasional meows. Yup, totally gets him.

I see him with a super chill cat, like maybe a Ragdoll or a Russian Blue. Something that tolerates his constant screaming and explosions.

This guy is just as bad at names. It'll definitely be something long and dramatic like Lord Cat Explosion Demon God of Furballs. Yep. He doesn't take criticism so most people call him Lord Furballs, much to his disdain.

Katsuki won't ask for attention from the cat, but the little furry feline is a total cuddler and will often find itself curled up in his lap or even on his neck if Katsuki's sitting on the couch. You better believe this guy won't be moving until that cat decides it's time to move. He's been late to meetings with friends because of this cuddly cat.

He's a hero so this cat is definitely being treated right. Katuski is no slacker when it comes to caring for his lil buddy. The vet is on speed dial should anything ever happen.

Did someone say a custom-made collar that matches his hero costume to a tee?

He's never loved anything more.

...

"Uh, hey Bakubro, why is your cat glaring at me?" Ejiro asked, staring down at the feline.

"What?" Katsuki didn't even bother to look up from his laptop.

"Your cat. It's giving me the evil eye. I thought it was supposed to be friendly." The red-haired hero frowned, not able to break eye contact with the cat. "I don’t think it likes me."

The small furry creature had lazily curled up in the sunspot next to Katsuki's feet, purring away without a care in the world. It seemed harmless enough, except for the heavy glare it was shooting Ejiro's way.

"Heh," Katsuki finally glanced down and crossed his arms. "He's not glaring. That's just his face."

"Ah," Ejiro nodded, "like father like son."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean!?"

Taglist: @thecindy @peachsenpie @awilddreamerwrites @miriobaby @kiyoobi @dragonsdreamoffire @amive2567 @justscar @kenmaskitten10 @freckledoriya

#izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugou #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #izuku midoriya headcanons #katsuki bakugou headcanons #my pets #cute dogs #cats #yes i did name his dog Mighty #come at me #I got really inspired so i wrote lil stories to go with these headcannons #i laughed when I wrote Katsuki's #of course that cat would pick up on his mannerisms while being a precious sweetheart #and that dog is literally just Izuku in dog form so #this turned out so goofy #lol #request

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incoherentbabblings · 4 years

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An Endless Hope (4/9)

After a horrendous blizzard falls over Gotham, Tim undergoes a sharp change in character before disappearing. Upon discovering what has become of him, Stephanie sets off on a solo journey in a magic realm to bring him home, meeting some faces who seem awfully familiar along the way.

Archive Of Our Own Link Click Click!

Once upon a time, there was a young woman crossing a frozen river.

She was dressed very oddly for the world, with bright white shoes and dark bottoms, a grey scarf and red and black gloves, and with a coat which shone as bright as the snow-covered river. She had long curled hair the colour of wheat, and her eyes were the same shade as turquoise gems.

Her name was Stephanie, and she was looking for her sweetheart, Tim.

She only knew in what direction to go, but not where she was heading. She did not know for how long she would need to walk. She only knew that Tim had been taken, and it was her job to bring him home.

He had been taken by a witch who travelled with an ice storm.

But the sky was blue, with not a cloud in sight for miles. And it was quite warm. Warm enough for her gloves and scarf to be unnecessary. She removed the scarf, but kept on the gloves. They had been a gift she had made for Tim. She wore them to keep him in her mind, as she had been warned that the journey might lead to her becoming lost.

All she had to do was follow her heart, but hearts could be easily distracted.

Her progress was slow, frustratingly so, but the snow and ice meant she could not rush crossing to land.

She had realised part of the way across she had not said all of her goodbye’s before she had set off, but this was typical of her manner. She was not a stupid girl, nor was she a cruel one, but her urge to do good and help sometimes had unintended consequences. This was especially true of her mother, who endured Stephanie’s brazen antics over the years with occasional pride, but mostly fear. Stephanie running off to chase down an ice witch who had stolen her sweetheart, a boy Stephanie’s mother was unsure of her feeling’s towards (even if Stephanie was certain of her own), would have been just another tipping in the scale of a strained relationship.

One they had both done so much to rebuild and repair after what felt like half a lifetime of neglect.

The sooner Stephanie found Tim, the sooner her mother could stop worrying. She simply had to get across this river quickly.

The air grew warmer the closer she moved to land, until distantly, she heard the cracks of melting ice.

Stephanie froze, unsure of how to proceed. Slowly she got down, closer to the ice, intending to spread her weight more. However, the air had grown warm unnaturally fast, and the ground gave way beneath her.

The icy water was a gut punch, and her muscles seized up, not allowing her to even yell out a cry of shock. The current was much stronger than anything found in her hometown river in Gotham, and she got swept away upstream, underneath a cracking and splintering layer of ice.

The further north she went, the warmer it grew, and eventually the current allowed her to break the surface, and she gasped for precious oxygen, before being pulled back down.

It was hard to think straight and process what was happening. Instead she acted on instinct, trying to fight her way to the shore, but it was impossible. She took every gulp of oxygen she could, and quickly grew tired in the cold and fast-moving waters. She absently noted that she had lost her bag and her scarf in the river.

No, she thought. I can’t fail this soon. I can’t fail at all.

But she was not particularly strong. She was not particularly special. She didn’t have any means of escaping the pull of the river. All she could do was try to keep her head above water.

There once was an old lady who lived by the river in a forest. Where she lived it was eternally spring, and the flowers were always in bloom. When it rained, the sun still shone, creating small rainbows and splashes of colour through the evergreen leaves of the trees. She had a garden she cared very much for, but she was lonely. She had lived by herself for a very long time.

As chance would have it, one day she was at the river washing her bedsheets, when she saw a very odd shape floating down the river bend. The current threw what the old woman realised was a girl onto the riverbank. She lay still like a dead body after a brief struggle to tug herself further on land, but then with a huff she collapsed, and did not move again.

The old woman dropped her washing and rushed over. She flipped the young girl over on to her back, and gasped,

“A human!”

Humans didn’t often come here. Then again, young girls did not wash up on shore in front of the old woman’s house either.

The old woman was a witch. Not a powerful one, but she kept her garden in neat condition with her magic. It was a hobby, not a career, but she knew enough to help this poor girl.

She pressed very gently on the unconscious girl’s chest, and she awoke, spluttering water.

She looked at the old woman, frightened, and the old woman tried to smile reassuringly.

“You poor little thing! What a fright you have gone through. Can you stand?”

Gulping loudly, the young girl shook her head, looking at her with suspicion.

“Tired…” She gasped, voice rough from nearly drowning. “Need to rest, just for a-a moment.”

Then her eyes shut, and the old woman, much stronger than she appeared, lifted her sodden body off the ground.

“Come on, dear thing, let’s get you dried and warmed up.”

The girl briefly tried to struggle, but she was very tired, and hung limp until the old woman got her inside her little thatch cottage.

“What’s your name?” The old woman asked as she sat the girl down against her roaring kitchen fire.

The girl collapsed backwards, laying on the kitchen tiles, drained and delusional.

“Stephanie.”

“Hello, Stephanie.”

“I’m trying to find someone.” She said, eyes shut. “Then I get our roses back.”

“Who are you looking for?”

“My…” She swallowed, looking at the old woman with fear. Stephanie managed to sit upright, groaning as she did, then looked towards the door. The cottage was lit up with an orange glow from the setting sun. It was one large room, with a narrow set of stairs in one corner. Everywhere she looked, surfaces were covered in flowers, in crockery and cutlery, in dishes and pans and knitting needles and looms. She grew warm next to the fire, and the pain in her throat lessened. “I’m sorry. Has a snowstorm passed through here? I got swept far off course. I’m following the storm.”

The woman shook her head. “No. Catch your breath and dry off. It may pass through soon.”

It wouldn’t. The old lady’s magic made the weather here eternal.

Stephanie shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, I have to keep moving. I just need my…”

Whatever she needed seemed to make her panic, and she burst out of the house, the old woman trailing behind her. Stephanie ran to the bank of the river and let out a cry.

“No! My bag!” She collapsed back into the river, “No! I lost his scarf! No! I made him that. Oh c’mon! This isn’t fair!”

She slapped the water in her frustration whilst the old lady watched. When Stephanie collapsed forward into the stream, exhaustion catching up with her, the woman intervened. She tugged Stephanie back upright, refusing to let her drown.

“Come inside. Dry off. I have some clean clothes. You’re probably feverish.”

Her tone brokered no argument. Stephanie, looking to the clear blue sky, without a hint of white cloud or cool winds, allowed herself to be picked up and carried back inside, hoping to catch her bearings.

The old lady was shorter and plumper than Stephanie, with short cropped hair and glasses which were large and circular. And yet, the clothes she gave Stephanie – a yellow summer dress – fit her perfectly. Stephanie had held onto her gloves. Even though they were still damp, she refused to take them off. She was frightened they would become misshapen if she let them dry over the warm fire like her shirt and shoes.

“I won’t be able to travel in this.” She said, lingering by the back door.

“No, no. Just until your clothes are all dried off.” The old lady patted a stool and pulled out an ivory comb. “Sit. I’ll get your hair untangled.”

Stephanie did not sit. She eyed the door nervously, looking like a cat about to bolt.

“Stephanie? I just want to help.”

“Why?” Stephanie whispered, looking back to the woman. The lady just smiled at her.

“Because I get the feeling you don’t receive a lot of help when you need it. Just sit. Take a breath. You can get going again once you’re back up to full strength.”

Stephanie’s lungs still burned from the water she had inhaled, and her limbs were heavy from the strain of trying to hold herself afloat. Her heart ached. It throbbed in what felt like her throat, making her already sore breathing even more difficult. She looked down at the yellow dress she was wearing, then back to the stool, then back to the old woman inviting her to take a moment.

“Let me take care of you.” Pushed the old woman.

Stephanie heavily sat down on the stool, and let her face fall forward into her waiting palms. She sobbed quietly to herself as the day’s events caught up with her. The old woman cooed and rubbed her shoulder reassuringly.

“You must have been through a lot.”

Stephanie did not reply.

They sat in silence for a while, and the old woman began to comb through Stephanie’s drying hair.

“How did a human end up here? Not many can cross realms.”

Stephanie eventually replied, though it took a long while before she found the words. Whispering, she said,

“I was sent here by a friend who makes a habit of jumping borders.”

“You’re searching for someone?”

Face still hidden; Stephanie nodded.

“Family? Friend?” The old woman watched as Stephanie shook her head. “Oh. Something more?”

“A boy…”

She tutted, “Oh no. Far too young for any of that. All this fuss over a boy?”

Stephanie laughed bitterly into her hands. “You sound like my mother.”

The comb in her hair paused, then Stephanie lowered her hands from her face, cautious. She saw the old woman put a plate of berries in front of her at the table with a slightly angry thud. The lady then resumed combing Stephanie’s hair.

“Here. Eat something.” And then the old woman sighed happily. “What lovely hair you have. So long and golden.”

“…Thank you.”

Tim liked her hair. He never told her as much, but Stephanie could tell from how often he’d taken to pressing his face into it, or running his fingers through it, or braiding it, or massaging her scalp or whatever else he felt like doing.

The movement of the old lady’s comb going through her drying hair was soothing. Stephanie sat up straighter and closed her eyes.

“I don’t get many visitors out here. So I get lonely.”

As she spoke and combed Stephanie’s hair, the old lady used her magic to ensure that Stephanie forgot why she had washed up in the woman’s land. She made Stephanie forget why she had left home, who Crystal and Cassandra and Bruce and her father were, and even Tim.

“I’d sometimes wished for a daughter, so this feels fitting.” She put the comb down and squeezed Stephanie’s shoulder’s, who giggled in response. “Please eat something.”

And Stephanie did. The old woman went outside to her garden and hunted for her rose bushes. Stomping her feet, she made them wither and retreat into the ground. Stephanie had mentioned a bag, a scarf and roses. Not wanting to trigger any memories, she did her best to remove the one item Stephanie may have used as a reason to leave. She could not get Stephanie to take off the gloves (even though Stephanie no longer remembered why they mattered), so she relented in that one area. She took Stephanie’s old clothes and locked them in a trunk. Out of sight, out of mind.

And so, several days passed. When the sun shone, Stephanie helped the old woman in her garden. When it rained, Stephanie helped the old woman cook and sew. She was given an abundance of nice dresses and shoes, and, as far as Stephanie could remember, didn’t want for anything.

One day, when the sun had set, and Stephanie was reading on a rocking chair, the old lady stirred what smelled like stew. The witch began to half talk to herself.

“What a lucky mother I am… to have a daughter like you.”

Stephanie looked up from her book, and absent-mindedly turned the page. “I’m not that special.” She muttered, bitterness creeping in from a place she didn’t understand. A small quick movement caught her eye, and onto the open windowsill landed a fat, perfectly spherical, European robin.

Stephanie nearly dropped the book.

“Oh, but you are!” Retorted the woman, though Stephanie was barely listening. “Always willing to lend a helping hand. Always smiling. Such a beauty! You make the days pass by so warmly…”

As the woman spoke, Stephanie watched the bird. It tilted its head curiously at the warm scene of the kitchen, then, ever nosy and poor with boundaries, it hopped onto the kitchen table, and began to help itself to a pile of raisins.

The sound of something wet hitting her book made her look down as the robin shook its body cutely, then flew back out the window, full and content. Splotches of water had fallen on the book’s thin paper. Stephanie realised she was crying but didn’t understand why.

“…It just makes me happier to spoil you!” The old woman was continuing on in her praises, but Stephanie jerked, finally dropping the book.

“I’m going to go to the garden for a little bit. Is that okay?”

The old woman did not look back, too preoccupied with her cooking. “Of course. I’ll call when it’s ready.”

“Thanks…mom.”

Rushing outside into the fresh air, Stephanie nearly fell into the bramble bush, breathing harshly. Her head pounded, her pulse raced, and her skin sweated. Something was wrong. Something felt like it was on the very tip of her tongue, and she only had to find the trigger…

She looked around at the fruit trees and the vegetable patch. She looked down at the flower beds, then paused. Like a cat, she got down and crawled over, pilfering through them. Sweet peas and tulips, pansies and peonies, dahlias and lavender…

“There’s no roses.” She said out loud, sitting back on her legs. “What kind of garden doesn’t have roses?”

She was still crying, though not fully understanding why. Her tears fell on the soil, and she jumped as deep red roses emerged from the ground. They shivered, shaking off the dirt that smothered their petals and leaves. Stephanie blinked once, then gagged as her memories came back violently.

Tim.

“Tim… No, Tim… Oh God. He’s dead. Isn’t he? I’ve wasted so much time.”

She folded in half, trying to muffle a scream, realising she had utterly failed. Klarion had given her a warning, and she had failed. She had crumbled at the very first test because somebody, for once, had cut her a break. Or at least given her the illusion of being loved and looked after. Manipulative to use someone’s loneliness like that.

Which Stephanie was most definitely not. She just… wanted the world to do her a solid every now and then. Like Tim and her had discussed. It wasn’t wrong to want to be looked after every now and then, right?

Only every now and then, though. Stephanie knew she craved her independence more than a parent’s smothering.

Not that Crystal had ever done such a thing. Not that Crystal had a leg to stand on to even try anymore.

And to say nothing of her father…

Her hands, still wearing the gloves she’d made Tim so long ago, were covered in soil. Her tears continued to drip down, watering the returned roses as they preened themselves clean of dirt.

Different realm, different rules. Klarion had said. It will turn your human head inside out if you are not alert. It has happened to Tim. Do not make the same mistake.

Stephanie felt like she was choking. What had she been doing all these days? She knew this whole thing was time sensitive. What if Tim had died because she’d been stuffing her face with apple pie for three weeks?

He’s not dead. A voice throbbed in her head. We’ve been in the ground where the dead live. He is not there.

Stephanie stared, curled in half, hands over her ears, kneeling in the dirt, feeling like she had utterly lost her mind. Somehow, impossibly, she understood that it was the roses speaking to her.

Because of course they were.

“It’s a fairy tale.” She hissed. “Rules are different. C’mon Steph. Roll with the punches. Roll with it…” Inhaling deeply, she looked at the roses, then – intensely ashamed – spoke to the flowers. “Do you know where he is?”

No. Try asking around. Each flower has a story to tell.

Stephanie huffed, trying to supress her embarrassment and not forget (again) the task at hand. She crawled through the dirt to a bunch of hyacinths.

“Can you tell me where Tim is?”

I have a story! They sang, and Stephanie winced. It’s about a little girl and her mother.

“No that’s not –”

Her mother had been very hurt before she had her little girl. And she was very hurt after. So hurt in fact she let her little girl be hurt in turn. The woman had a bad husband and the daughter had a bad father. Who is worse? The abuser or the abused? The one who harms or the one who did nothing to stop it?

Stephanie suddenly felt the urge to slam her palm down on the hyacinths. “It doesn’t work like that.” She hissed. “Of course, it’s the father. Take him away and the pain stops. Take him away and the pain never began.”

The hyacinths shivered in the cool breeze but said no more. Stephanie vaguely was aware of how harsh her breathing was, but what those flowers had said had struck a nerve.

“Why would you even ask that? My mom tried she…” Stephanie cut herself off with a sore gulp, realising maybe she shouldn’t be arguing with flowers.

We have a story! And Stephanie looked over her shoulder to a collection of marigolds.

“Is it about where Tim is?” She whispered wearily.

It’s about a mother’s grief when her daughter dies before her.

Immediately Stephanie was off the ground, hands over her ears.

“I didn’t die. I’m not going to die. I’ll bury my mom, she won’t have to do it for me. Not again.”

She looked at her bare feet as she backed away from the flower bed, bumping into a hydrangea bush. Looking at it with fear, she muttered.

“You have a story about moms and daughters too?”

A woman is waiting for her daughter to come home. It said simply. You should hurry while she still is capable of forgiveness.

“But I don’t know where to –”

“Stephanie?” The old woman’s voice called. Stephanie gasped, head throbbing, and fell backwards into the bushes.

“Tim.” She gasped to herself. “I need to find Tim so I can bring him home. My mom… my real mom is waiting.”

Her heart stuttered in its beating, and Stephanie found herself staring at the gate which led out of the woman’s property. Her hands and the gloves were filthy, as were her feet. Her dress, a pretty red thing with golden embroidery, had stains where she had been kneeling in the dirt. Klarion had told her to follow her heart, and as cheesy as it was, Stephanie didn’t see any better option.

“Sweetheart? Time for dinner.” The old lady called again. Stephanie did not reply, and she listened as the woman walked around to the front garden, thinking she had sat on the bench swing that hung from the maple tree. As quietly as she could, Stephanie got up to go to the gate. Hunched over, she unclasped the lock.

“Stephanie?”

She jumped and turned, seeing the old lady lit up against the warm glow of the cottage. The woman looked at her, sadness in her eyes, and shook her head, begging Stephanie not to go.

Stephanie stared back, unapologetic. She took one last look at the woman and her home, feeling nostalgic for a life she had never and would never have. When the old woman moved towards her, Stephanie flung the gate open and ran. Ignoring the cries, Stephanie fled north, into the forest.

#dc #stephanie brown #tim drake #timsteph #my fic tag

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