#wally walks away with his bag of apples for free

[flamestar126]

Would a kiss suffice?

[rare-agere-reverie]

I have a fanfic request for welcome home (if your don’t mind!)

Caregiver(s): Eddie Dear

Regressor(s): Wally Darling

Plot: Eddie is going back to his home after he finished his mail route and spots an overstimulated, regressed Wally trying to hide his regression. Eddie decides to help Wally.

Please and thank you! 👋😅

Woo my first fic for the blog and it’s my hyperfixation! Hope I did your idea justice anon 📬

Something to Hold

CG!Eddie Dear + Little!Wally Darling

“Here’s your mail, Julie!” cheerfully proclaimed Eddie. He pulled a primary-colored letter with a pawprint stamp from his bag. The rainbow monster joyfully took it from him.

“Thanks for the letter, Eddie,” she replied, “Can you play Magic Bakery with me?” The mailman froze a little, remembering the last time Julie played that game. Poppy’s kitchen needed an entire week of cleaning after her sugar potion erupted in a splash of batter.

“I’d like to, but I don’t think I’m up for it,” Eddie excused, his right hand scratching at the back of his neck.

“That’s okay, I bet Frank would love to play Magic Bakery,” reassured Julie confidently. “Bye Eddie! Hope your day’s fun!”

“I’ll see you later!” He tipped his hat as he strolled away. Feeling his hand around inside his mailbag, Eddie sighed freely when he didn’t touch a single letter. Now that his day’s work is done, his schedule is free. Maybe I should fold some paper butterflies; Frank would love that. How about I cut a ribbon of stars? I could even deliver it to Sally. 

Caught up in his thoughts, Eddie tripped over a pebble. Slight pain flared a bit as he landed face first on the grass. He propped himself up, only to spot something small behind the post office.

Huh, did someone leave a package? 

Eddie kept walking, then realized the figure was one of his neighbors. His steps slowed stealthily, as if worried about scaring the person off. Hiding around a corner of the building, the mailman realized it was actually Wally.

The small darling seemed quiet and tense, unlike his usual content self. His ascot hung loose around his neck, his cardigan unbuttoned and nearly falling from his shoulders, and his chest heaving unsteadily. In Eddie’s favor, Wally’s eyes are too trained on the apple in his hands to notice someone spying on him. A self-soothing behavior taking virtually no effect.

The taller friend’s worry only grew at the sight. What could’ve scared him so badly? …I finished my route; it wouldn’t hurt to take a break. A sporadic yet subdued burst of footsteps carried Eddie closer, alerting Wally of his presence.

“Hey Darlin’,” the concerned man sat beside the shorter, “do you need any help?” With a slight turn of the head towards his friend, Wally’s shaking pupils dragged themselves to meet Eddie’s gaze. 

“No,” he decided, his voice soaked in anxiety. A blatant lie, unfit for a usually happy friend and neighbor.

“Oh, Wally, it’s okay to ask for help,” Eddie soothed, reaching a hand out for the frazzled artist. The painter hesitated, glancing wearily between his apple and his friend’s palm. Said friend never stopped displaying such genuine affection, effectively winning Wally over. Wordlessly, one hand held the red fruit while the other hovered over Eddie’s hand. The mail carrier kept a loose yet secure grip, propped Wally up, and led him inside the post office.

For the most part, the inside sparkled with cleanliness; only a side table was littered with scrap paper from a previous crafts project. Eddie placed his hat and work bag on the wall hooks behind the reception desk, and let go of Wally in the process. Free to explore, Wally felt drawn to the table of leftover materials, eyeing every individual paper. When the off-duty mailman returned his attention to his friend in need, his confusion grew a little. After all, Wally’s tantalized by spare pieces of the paper crowns he made for Sally’s last play.

“What is it, Darlin’?” Eddie asked, joining Wally at the cluttered table.

“Red,” mumbled the yellow puppet, pointing at a pile of paper triangles with the same color. He thoughtlessly placed his apple on the table, and admired the differing shades between the maroon scraps and the scarlet fruit.

“That’s right; they’re both red,” awkwardly added Eddie. Despite his quiet exhale unknowingly releasing itself, he couldn’t stop thinking about the unfamiliar behavior unfolding next to him. I’m glad he’s feeling better, but something ain’t right.

“Gween,” Wally muttered, now pointing towards a couple of poorly-cut ovals. That certainly snapped the distracted mailman out of his thoughts.

“Green?” repeated Eddie, mental wheels finding enough courage to turn. Maybe he wants to distract himself with colors, he rationalized. At this apparent correction of pronunciation, the secretly-regressed little darted his eyes down to his fingers, which gently tapped on the table.

“Yeah, that,” spoke Wally, voice shy and small. It melted Eddie’s heart with melancholy, yearning for the artist’s happiness to return. 

“I didn’t mean to make you sad, Darlin’,” affirmed Eddie, his words sweeter than any apples Wally had seen. “Just know I want to help you find your smile again, okay?” The regressor nodded confidently, his clear gaze fixed onto Eddie’s while his hands made a grabby motion towards the mail carrier.

“Oh! You want a hug?” Words escaped Wally; he could only repeat his grabby hands. “Aww, of course I will, Darlin’!” Protecting arms wrapped snugly around the little’s limp body.

Smiles on their faces, they stayed like that until Wally’s eyes slowly closed. Naturally, Eddie pulled out his Murphy bed and tucked the sleepy darling underneath soft blankets. As one of them napped, the other lovingly watched over them.

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part three ~ without the dolphin ~

(part one) (part two) (part three)

A/N: Thank you all so so much for reading! I never thought people would care about my writing and I am so appreciative. I’ve got messages/asks open for comments or questions.

Summary: Y/N warms up to Alex. George advises him to not be an idiot. 

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Secondhand Embarrassment. Mild Language.

Word Count: 2.3k

There was no music in the lift. There was no music to interrupt Alex's music blaring into his ears. If there were someone around, they would have heard his questionable song choice for the four-minute trip from his apartment to meet the deliveryman and back again. Not that that trip required music.

However, consider that the brain could think thousands of thoughts in four minutes, and the chances of those all being pleasant thoughts are minuscule. Why take that chance? Why not drown them all out?

DING the sliding doors opened. Alex stepped out with a bounce in his step set in-time with the backbeat of the chorus playing in his ears.

Coming from around the corner where the mailroom was, Y/N brushed past him in a flash of blue clothing. She did not seem to see him.

But he saw her, like a Where's Wally game he was not aware he was playing. He took out one of his earbuds, slipping it in his pocket. Alex was determined to be normal: to make up for the initial awkwardness of their first meeting.

Y/N walked past the lift and started for the stairs. She was on the fifth or sixth step.

"Red!" called Alex.

"Hmm? Oh, hello," she said, smiling.

"How are you doing?" It was uncomfortable for him to be on a lower plane than to whom he was speaking, but Y/N was not moving, so neither was he.

"Tired."

"For tired, you don't look too bad. No I didn’t—you don't look bad. You look good!" Amidst recovering from his slip, Alex noticed how different Y/N was then last time. Different in appearance, with her softer expression and relaxed shoulders, and in her aurora. It was calmer, more open.

"You look good too. That shade of yellow—" she pointed to his sweatshirt, "—compliments your hair."

"Really? You think?" He thought he might just melt or spill open in front of her.

"I'm not a liar. What are you up to?" Y/N looked around, keeping her head on a slight swivel. She returned to meet Alex's gaze with something like concern shining, hiding behind her animated expression.

"I'm meeting a deliveryman. If you want, you could come and eat pizza with George and me." After a short beat, he added, "Invite Sammy too."

"Is George your flatmate or..." Y/N intentionally trailed off.

"Flatmate." Alex thought he might have seen Y/N's smile widen more so for a second at his answer. But he could not be sure what he saw was real or just a manifestation of what he wished to see.

"He sounds nice."

"George? Yeah, he's lovely. Not as lovely as me, of course."

Nodding in mock seriousness, Y/N confirmed, "Of course."

It was a simple conversation, but it felt so alive: so real: so this is happening right now and Alex felt so present. Like looking at himself in the mirror late at night and being hit with the conscious recognition of I am a person. Here I am this corporeal being. Not made of words or thoughts, what I find funny or opinions I like, my mental state or view count.

Alex was real talking to Y/N. Words were free-flowing out of him as he processed and reacted simultaneously. Such an understanding – if harnessable – could lead to solutions for world hunger or maybe even get him to three million subscribers within the year.

"So, you'll come along?"

"I can't." Y/N frowned a slight frown. Her nervous nature returned as she cleared her throat and began to fiddle with her fingers.

"Come on, Red," his voice whined with the plea before stabilizing, "It'll be fun. It's not just pizza. I was planning on throwing together a salad as well to go with it."

"How healthy."

"Oh? Do you not know?" Alex paused so Y/N could shake her head. "I'm only buying a pizza to support local businesses; I'm really an expert in the kitchen."

"Is that right?" She raised an eyebrow.

"World-renowned."

"You know what? I see it now. Better than Ramsey, aren't you?"

"Leagues better. I'd challenge any chef to rival my bagged salad mix. It's spectacular – delicious."

Y/N giggled, and Alex joined.

Music had continued to blare from the earbud he left in, but he had been able to ignore it during the conversation. Until a particular song came on – one he downloaded as a joke – and he heard the line: got our song...up and ready

Did Alex wish Y/N and he had a song? No, that was dumb. An unrealistic expectation the romance genre shoved upon its (generally) female audience. But did he? Kind of. It would be cute. Men can want to be cute, too, right?

"So, you'll come?" he asked...again.

Y/N fiddled with the collar of her chin-hugging top. "I would, but I can't. Sam would—don't you think you've made your deliveryman wait long enough?"

"Probably. You have some time to change your mind; just ring me if you do."

"I don't have your number."

"Alright," he made a give it here gesture, "I'll plug it in."

Y/N's bright expression faltered a smidge as she relinquished her phone to him. It was an older model but still a smartphone: no passcode: no apps other than those built-in. Her wallpaper was a picture of Sammy and her on a nature walk. 

Alex’s prominent adam's apple jumped. A pain like indigestion or like guilt stabbed him in the stomach. After plugging in his number, he took an extra second to double-check it and add some personal flair.

Y/N took her phone back. "Why the emoji? I think I'll know who you are without the..." Y/N squinted at the screen. "...without the dolphin."

"Never know. It could be a good reminder."

"I suppose, it does match your eyes," she muttered, still focused on the phone. Y/N froze for a second, clearly not having meant to say that out loud.

"There you go, it's perfect. Don't be afraid to call or text me; I'm on that thing 24/7, and I promise to reply in at least one-to-two business days. Guaranteed."

She scoffed, "You should go get your pizza."

It would not be the first or fifth time Alex had forgotten about a deliveryman, and – while he would let his extra-large go stone-cold before willingly break off a conversation with her – it was apparent Y/N was itching to get somewhere.

"True." Alex gave a short wave, maintaining his distance. "I'll see you later."

"Bye.” Y/N disappeared up the stairs.

~LATER~

Alex balanced the extra-large pizza box in one hand. Never having worked in food service, his confidence in doing so was even lower than his regular self-confidence. With his other hand, he patted himself down, looking for the key to his apartment. He cursed at himself for having locked it out of habit when he left.

There was muffled shouting coming from inside – sounding both playful and angry. It took a single step through the door for Alex to recognize the source of the shouting.

George was in his bedroom watching a video back without his headphones on. 

A great grief. A true unseen struggle for all youtubers – headphones were uncomfortable. Constant low-pressure squeezing developed into the biggest hazard of the job: chronic headaches. Both flatmates had expressed how they sometimes woke up to the feeling like they needed to relieve a phantom pressure and take off their headphones despite not wearing them to bed.

"Take high ground," a familiar voice commanded. "You have to down this guy."

Pre-recorded George asked, "Where is he?"

"Left. LEFT! Your left! Goddammit George, you dyslexic bitch."

It was with bitch that Alex recognized the other voice in the recording– it was Joshy, and it was a fortnite video from the sound of it.

"This gun is so weak it's hitting nine damage," pre-recorded George complained.

Joshy screamed, "Let's go; we got to go!"

"You do your thing. I'll be over there in a bit."

Their bickering continued sounding identical in tone to that of a couple outside divorce court. Viewers loved how shit George was at fortnite and how increasingly frustrated that made Joshy: the shouting, the swearing, the idle threats and name-calling. Pairing up together for these types of gameplay videos would often have them banging out a quarter to half a million views per video.

Meanwhile. Alex placed the pizza box on the coffee table and fell onto the sofa with an exhausted sigh. Sitting up, he grabbed at the box lid and started claiming the best-looking slices in his head.

Eyes flickered to the closed-door: George had not heard him come in – surely not. And he would not be mad if Alex started in on devouring the pizza without him – surely not. Right?

Stacking two slices on top of one another, Alex crammed them into his mouth quick, as if scared they would be taken away from him, and burned his tongue.

"Help me," pleaded the pre-recorded George, "Help me. Help me."

"Nah. Don't think I will."

"Josh, if you don't revive me right now. I swear to god, I will piss in your mouth while you sleep."

Alex snorted, choking on the third slice of pizza he had fit in his big mouth; he had been on the receiving end of that piss threat before, several times. Most recently because he left a plate in the sink and George swore if Alex did not clean it that second, he would...well...piss in his mouth.

"That's not very nice." Joshy mimicked genuine sadness. "I got you."

1/3 of the pizza was gone, and Alex decided it fair to call George in before he scranned it all himself. "George! Pizza's here!"

"Alright!" George (the real not the pre-recorded) shouted back. There was the sound of his door closing and the padding of his socked feet down the short hall before he appeared around the corner. Met with Alex and the 2/3 of a room temperature pizza, he asked the appropriate, "What the fuck?"

"I was starved."

"And here I was thinking the one excuse I would accept for taking twenty years to get the pizza was that you'd run into the street and got hit.”

Alex spoke around his mouth being full, "Sorry."

"Whatever." He snuck in a quick smack against the side of Alex's head as he joined him on the sofa.

Both men sat in silence, shoving slices of pizza into their mouth like it was a competition. Like there was no other food in their apartment. Like they could not order another pizza. Like it proved something.

Breaking the silence, Alex swiped the sleeve of his sweatshirt across his mouth and asked, "Are we still filming that opening pokemon cards video tomorrow?"

"Yes. Just need someone to film the over-the-shoulder angle. Lewis is sick."

"Sick with what?"

"Not the bug." George rolled his eyes mockingly. His eating had slowed down after hitting the wall, half-way through his fifth slice. "It's like a cold or something. Could you ask your new mate Sammy to do it?"

"Why not ask Will to come down?"

"Don't trust him," he said, shrugging.

"Fair enough. I'll ask him when we hit the pub later." Alex stood and walked to the kitchen. At the sink, he washed his hands with dish detergent and, cupping his hands into a bowl, washed around his mouth with the soapy water. Satisfied, he took a towel to his hands and face before returning to see George shutting the lid on the pizza box. "What do you think of Sammy?"

"How do you mean?"

"Just in general."

George shrugged. "He's cool."

"Yeah," Alex agreed – because he did agree with the statement; he liked Sammy.

There was a pause, and, in the interlude, George stood and grabbed the pizza box. He brought it to the kitchen bin; balancing it on top the overflowing rubbish. Curious and perhaps thinking he heard a tonal shift in their dialogue, George settled himself to be pressing his shoulder against the wall nearest where Alex stood. Leaning like he was in a how do you do fellow kids meme.

Alex felt very much 'squared up' to. He turned to be met with a quick tilt of the head and a scrutinizing near-glare from his flatmate. It was not unlike George to stick his nose in where it does not belong; could this be considered that type of situation? Alex did ask for his opinion.

Clearing his throat, George asked, "Is this about Y/N?"

"I was talking to her earlier and—"

"Why were you talking to her?"

"—and I got the sense that Sammy might be like a tad controlling. I don't know."

"Are you serious?" George asked harshly before continuing in a softer voice – with a hint of hesitation, of caution, "You know what happens when you jump to conclusions like that. You shouldn't be chatting up Y/N behind Sammy's back."

"It wasn't like I cornered her. We ran into each other." Alex tugged on his sleeves, pulling them past his shaking fingers – seconds away from crawling into himself.

It was not playful bullying between friends anymore; it was a telling off. And neither was comfortable. George's eyes pleaded for Alex to look up and meet them, and for Alex to understand. Alex held no negative feelings toward George. But Alex hated himself for reacting as he was; he hated being human and having sensitive moments. Though he could not stop it.

"You have got to back off. Ok?" George confirmed, "If it means we can't have Sammy in the friend group, then that's what it means. We'll find someone else to film for us tomorrow."

"No, it's fine. I'll ask him," Alex said as he pulled up and straightened his posture. He smiled at George's concerned expression and added, "I'm not interested in Y/N."

[youngjusticeslut]

And They Were Roommates (Chapter 7)

Fandom: Young Justice Links: FF.net // AO3 Characters:  Artemis Crock, Dick Grayson, Lian Harper, Roy Will Harper, Jade Nguyen Ships: RedCat Summary: Artemis’ recovery is still slow going. Rating: T Word Count: 3,187 Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters.

Before Artemis had realized, she’d been living with Jade and Roy for two weeks.

It was odd, how quickly time passed when she had a schedule to keep her occupied. Her days started before the sun was up, woken by Lian’s cries. She’d lie in bed and listen to Jade and Roy attempt to get Lian back to sleep. Some nights, Roy would sing. Others, Jade would tell a story. Not that her sister knew any stories; usually it was a less-violent recount of a Cheshire outing that Roy tiredly attempted to sanitize. Usually, these attempts worked. On the days that it didn’t, Roy would take Lian out for a walk on the beach, and Jade would do her exercises in the living room. Afternoons were spent on the beach or running errands, avoiding any of her own responsibilities and instead helping Roy and Jade with theirs. Evenings were abnormally domestic, dinner and watching Lian play while a movie played in the background; at some point, Artemis would turn her back and the married couple would be gone, leaving her to babysit.

There was a part of her that wished her sister and Roy never rekindled their relationship. The selfish, very tired part who was sick of being locked out of the apartment at odd hours of the day. Some days, the two of them were like animals in heat; one glance was all it would take.

Still, Artemis couldn’t deny that it was nice to see them happy. Their own version of happy, anyway.

The awkward silences at mealtimes had all but disappeared. Instead, there were forced conversations, made all the more uncomfortable by Jade’s lack of regard for anyone’s emotions but her own. A couple of times now, Artemis had seen Roy smile, which was unsettling, to say the least. On three different occasions, Jade attempted to cook. Each attempt was worse than the last; Even Lian wouldn’t stomach whatever concoctions her mother had managed to produce, and she ate almost everything.

For the most part, though, living with her sister wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It definitely beat living on her own, spending her days on the couch with nobody but Brucely to keep her company. Or living with her ever-hovering mother, who would pity her and make her tea. No, there was definitely no pity at the Nguyen-Harper household. Artemis was held to the same standard as any other member, and for that, she was almost grateful.

It was easy to ignore most of her own problems; especially when she turned her phone off and hid it under her pillow. Her lunch date with Dick was easily avoided, blown off with a text saying she couldn’t make it. When she’d made the plans with him, she couldn’t imagine anything better than catching up over pizza. But as it grew closer, and closer, her mind wandered. Her stomach clenched in an awful nausea that prevented her from thinking of anything other than Wally. After a night of tossing and turning, she called it off.

The more time she spent with her sister’s family, the less she spent with her’s. Calls from M’gann were left unanswered, Zatanna’s texts ignored. Kaldur had written her fifteen emails, and she left them all unread. Artemis wasn’t dumb, of course; she knew that sooner or later they were bound to catch up with her. But for the meantime, she was more than content to watch toddler shows with Lian and live off a diet of goldfish and organic apple juice.

“You know the whole organic thing is a myth,” Artemis pointed out, waving a carrot stick in Roy’s direction. The redhead pretended he didn’t hear her, instead screwing the cap of Lian’s sippy cup back on. “Regular apple juice is perfectly fine for a toddler.”

“I keep telling him that. We survived on the crap from the dollar store, and look how attractive we turned out,” Jade said, leaning against the fridge and blocking her husband from putting the juice back. He raised a brow, waiting for her to move away. Artemis could see the gears working in both their heads, so she stepped between them, shoving her sister out of the way to return it.

“Idiots,” she muttered.

Roy blushed, his neck burning as he handed the sippy cup to his daughter. “Here you go,” he said softly before looking at Artemis. “We didn’t do anything. You’re jumping to conclusions,” he tried to defend, resting a hand on his daughter’s hair.

Lian nodded, grabbing her sippy cup with two pudgy hands. “Sex.”

As guilty as Artemis was that her niece had learned that from her, the flush of embarrassment and shame on Roy’s face made it all worth it. Jade snickered, sauntering over and trailing her fingernail across his shoulders. “It’s genetics,” she purred.

“You have got to stop saying that.” Roy ducked away from her, starting to clean up the juice he’d spilled on the counter. “And for the record, organic is not a myth.”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Have to side with Jade here. Dollar store apple juice is just as satisfactory.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying I should buy Lian juice from the dollar store.”

“I’m not saying you should, I’m saying that it’s ridiculous that you spend six dollars on that organic shit when it’s a hoax,” she explained, picking up an apple from the bag on top of the fridge. “You’re too uptight.”

“She’s already at risk with my clone genetics, I’m not taking any more chances.” Jade and Artemis both turned to look at him after he spoke. The room fell quiet, and the sisters exchanged a glance.

“Red,” Jade said, her voice soft. When he didn’t respond, she stood and rested a hand on his shoulder, lifting a finger to his chin and tilting upwards. Artemis lowered her eyes, growing uncomfortable at the intimacy of the simple gesture. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something she wasn’t meant to see. Instead, she took Lian’s hand, shaking it so the baby smiled.

“We gotta get you some real sugar, Babe. No more pretend shit,” she teased under her breath, low enough so only Lian would hear. In return, Lian grabbed a fistful of her hair, tugging hard. Artemis grimaced, trying and failing to get her to let go.

After a few, tense minutes, Roy came over and picked Lian up. “We’re going to go on a walk,” he said, voice even as if nothing had happened. “Maybe build a sandcastle.”

“Sounds fun,” Artemis said, glancing at her sister. “You going with?”

“Pass. I hate sand.” Jade watched her husband leave with their daughter, waiting until they were out of earshot before resting her hands on her hips. “You’ve been awfully housebound as of late.”

“We live in an apartment.”

Jade smirked. “The college girl still has her wits about her. Dad would be so proud.”

“Fuck off, Jade. What do you want?”

The older girl tucked some of her hair behind her ear before stretching her arms behind her back. “Nothing, really. Just wondering where all those annoying little friends of yours are. Not one of them has been by to pay you a visit. I’m hurt,” she said with a pout. “I baked brownies and everything.”

This was the side of her sister that always set Artemis on edge. The very essence of Jade, forever taunting and toying around, just like a cat. It was unnerving how quickly she could shift between her personas. “Tales of your cooking have spread. They’d rather leave me hanging than risk trying anything you made.”

“Fair enough. We’ll both leave the cooking to Roy then,” she countered. “Then why don’t you go see them?”

“Getting tired of me already? Wasn’t aware I was that bad of a roommate.”

Jade leaned closer, raising a brow. “You’re ignoring messages, shutting your phone off… I wasn’t going to say anything until you blew off the little birdie,” she continued. “Surely you have better things to do than watch baby cartoons all day.”

Artemis shouldn’t have been surprised that Jade knew the goings-on of her life. If anything, she was mildly annoyed. “Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m a free babysitter for your niece.”

“She doesn’t need a babysitter every day. You need a life, Sis. Stop running errands with my husband and go play with that little team of yours.”

“Wow, what a pep talk. Now who’s making Dad proud?”

Jade narrowed her eyes, pushing herself off the table and picking up Lian’s discarded sippy cup. “Fat chance. I’m nothing like that bastard.”

“Hey.” Artemis tossed the untouched apple in her sister’s direction. Jade caught it without breaking a sweat, looking almost amused at the simplicity of the task. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Who said I was worried? I’m just tired of seeing your moping around the place.”

Artemis made a noise through her teeth, but she knew this was probably the best she was going to get from her sister. For now, it was good enough.  

--

If Artemis were a decent person, she would have followed her sister’s lead and started contacting her friends again. She would have replied to every message, apologized, and set up appointments to see all of them.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t exactly a decent person.

Instead of doing that, she took Brucely for a run. Artemis had never been fond of running; it brought back memories of endless drills, sprinting for all she was worth in an effort to please her father. Once in a while though, she liked the feeling of being breathless. It grounded her, reminded her that she was here, that she was still alive.

When Jade left the house, she slid into athletic shorts, laced up her sneakers and went running along the beach. Brucely, the lazy fatass that he was, wasn’t very happy with her, but he chugged along, shooting her a look every so often in begging her to stop. After an hour, she took pity on him and finally collapsed against the sand, breathing hard. Adrenaline pulsed through her system, and her heart pounded loudly against her chest, making her giddy. At least she hadn’t gone completely out of shape.

Brucely padded up against her, his tongue lolling about pathetically. Artemis stroked his head, trying not to laugh. “You never did like running, did you?” she teased, earning a ‘hmph’ in return. She knew he wasn’t very happy with her right now. No matter how hard her or Wally had tried in keeping him active, he didn’t like anything more than his regular walks.

Her heart ached when she conjured the memory. If she thought hard enough, Artemis could hear his voice, the way he cooed and coddled their dog. Brucely had been her Christmas gift, a third member of their little family. Wally had adored Brucely, always spoiling him far more than he had to. The dog never forgot, either. When she still lived in the duplex, he would wait by the door for his other owner. Sometimes, Artemis would wait with him.

Ultimately, they were both left disappointed.

“What do you think of pizza for dinner?” Artemis asked, ruffling Brucely’s head. “I don’t think I can even look at another one of Jade’s attempts.” The dog didn’t respond, which was expected, but she laughed anyway. “Yeah, let’s do pizza. Lian will love it,” she said, standing up again. Roy would appreciate not having to cook.

On the way back to the apartment, she pulled out her phone, turning it on and idly scrolling through the messages. Three from today, which was two less than the previous day. If she didn’t answer, at some point somebody would show up on Jade’s doorstep. The problem was, she wouldn’t even know where to start. Kaldur was her default, but he was going through his own struggles as it was. M’gann had Conner, and Dick had tons of family to fall back on. Surely they’d be fine for a few more weeks, just enough for her to keep laying low and work on her own sanity.

When she stepped through the front door of the apartment, giant box of pizza in her hands, Brucely tugged forward and made her drop the leash. In an instant, he headed for Lian, who was playing on the floor of the living room. The girl squealed, throwing her arms up in the air and toppling over when the dog attacked her. Roy picked her up, shooting a look to Artemis. She shrugged in apology, setting the pizza down on the table.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept a better handle on your dog,” he grumbled, waiting for him to calm down before setting Lian down again.

Artemis tugged her jacket off and tossed it to the side. “I’ll forward your feedback to my supervisor. Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“I brought pizza.”

Roy settled back on the floor, turning his gaze to Lian. “Jade’s not home. So don’t worry about waiting for her.”

“I never worry about Jade. How were the sandcastles?” she asked, opening the pizza box and taking a slice.

“Sandy.” Roy held Lian’s hands as the baby bounced on unsteady feet. “But Lian liked it, so I guess that’s what counts. Bring me a slice?”

“You got it.” She took another slice out and handed it over before sitting on the floor with him. “Hey Li. You having fun there?” she asked, grinning when her niece babbled something at her.

Roy took a bite out of his pizza, making a face at Lian. “She’s always having fun. It’s… incredible how happy she is. Considering her genetics.”

“Ever heard of nature versus nurture? She’s happy because you guys are happy. In your own weird, uncomfortable way.” He grunted, mulling it over before tearing off a piece of his pizza for Lian. Artemis watched her niece gobble it up, unable to help but smile. “You are happy… aren’t you?”

“I’m getting there.” Roy smiled to himself, supporting Lian as she bounced a bit harder. “She makes me happy. And Jade, too.”

Artemis smirked. “I’m sure. All the sex must be helping.”

“Sex!” Lian exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

Roy groaned, setting Lian down on her bottom before running a hand down his face. “Maybe Jade’s right about the genetics. We’re all so fucked,” he said warily, pushing himself to his feet.

Lian watched him go until Artemis took his place, holding her hands so she could stand again. To her surprise, her niece didn’t grip on as tightly as she usually did, instead holding herself on her own two feet. “We were fucked either way. At least this way we’ll get a laugh out of it.”

“I’m glad you find my daughter so amusing,” he called from the kitchen. “By the way, you’re in trouble.”

“For what?”

He returned to the living room, bringing some napkins and a bottle of water with him. “Kaldur called me.”

Artemis sighed, letting go of Lian’s hands once she was sure she could hold herself up. “Of course he did.”

“Why aren’t you returning his emails?” he asked, lowering the volume on the television. Artemis recognized the cartoon. Kim Possible, or something. She remembered watching it with Jade when they were just kids. Must be a retro rerun, or something.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone. Not yet, anyway.”

“You can’t sulk here forever,” Roy said gently. “I would know.” This earned him a smile, and a playful nudge.

“I’m not… sulking,” she sighed, picking up one of Lian’s toys and turning it around in her hands. “I just don’t really want to talk to anyone yet. Being here is nice, you know? You guys don’t treat me as the girl who just lost her boyfriend.”

“And they will? You’re not giving them enough credit.”

“Maybe I’m not.”

“Just talk to them, Artemis. I’m the first person to admit that it’s easier to push everyone away. But I… we need people,” he said, looking at his daughter and giving her a smile. “It’s never going to get better if we keep everyone at arm's length.”

As much as she hated to admit it, Roy was right. Her phone was burning a hole in her shorts, even now. Artemis smiled, looking at Lian who was standing pretty confidently on her own two feet. “Never thought I’d ever be getting advice from you.”

“Well, first time for everything,” Roy said, almost chuckling. “I’m not saying you need to reply to every message, but… just let them know you’re okay. Maybe schedule a meeting, or go to the Watchtower. Baby steps.”

“Baby steps, huh?” she asked, tossing him Lian’s toy. Roy scoffed, tossing it back at her. This went on for a while until Lian squealed angrily. Roy smiled apologetically, holding out the toy for her to take. Only, instead of taking it, Lian grunted and hesitantly took a step forward.

Artemis and Roy immediately exchanged a look, wondering if they’d both really just witnessed Lian taking her first steps. Roy pulled the toy backwards, and Lian took another wobbly step, looking at her dad for reassurance.

“Oh my god, she’s walking. Shit, she’s walking,” Roy stammered out, a smile lighting up his face. “Lian, you’re walking!” he exclaimed. Artemis couldn’t believe what she was seeing and immediately pulled  out her phone to record, the two of them cheering Lian at the top of her lungs.

Lian finally made her way over to her dad, collapsing into his waiting arms. Roy held her tight, kissing her head before lifting her up in the air. “You did it, baby girl! You took your first steps. Holy shit…” he said, his face falling after. “Jade missed it.”

Artemis held up her phone. “Got it on film. Can’t wait to show everyone how much of a sap you really are,” she taunted.  

Roy rolled his eyes, kissing Lian’s head again. “Whatever. Even you can’t sour this for me. She’s finally walking.”

“You know what that means, don’t you?” Artemis asked with a knowing smirk. Roy raised a brow, urging her to continue as Lian babbled and tugged at his hair. “Hope you and Jade hid your weapons well. Now she can walk right to them.”

He grimaced, realizing just how much work he had left to do. “Right. Baby steps.”