Hey all, it's been a while, so here's a quick recap from the last chapter.
Dick and Artemis had a dream party and updated each other on their respective lives. However, Artemis hasn't figure out Dick is alive, so she thinks she's hearing from the afterlife.
On Dick's side, he is now able to walk slowly with the help of supports like walls or people. He's still having muscle spasms that make things difficult. He is also seeing a speech therapist to try to get back to speaking in one language, and just started seeing a normal therapist. There is a list of languages Dick speaks in the last chapter.
In other reminders, pay attention to dates, Romani is italicized, and the rest of the languages are translated in parenthesis unless Dick corrects himself in English.
Chapter 6
25 June 2013
The streets were dirty and felt oppressive, but they weren't dark. Instead, bright neon lights proclaiming 'Wayne Casinos' lit the night. They simultaneously destroyed and created shadows in sharp contrast. In a darker than normal alleyway, a 6-foot-tall man wearing jeans and a trench coat slowed to a stop. He slumped against the wall, and dragged a hand down his face. A kitten rubbed itself between his legs, meowing softly as if saying "Why are we stopping? I have tons of energy! Come on!"
"Not now, Kitty. I just need a short break." He slid down to the ground. "A short break, and maybe a nap." The kitten put his paws on his leg, gave him an adorable gaze and mewed softly, blinking his eyes.
"…Where did you even learn that?"
"Meow."
"Meow yourself." He said. "Find Batman, Sigmore. It'll be easy. Just go to Gotham and light the signal. Never mind the hours in airports going through security, waiting for flights, and talking to customs, Damn alternate universe differences. Should have stayed in Europe. But no. I just had to assume that most things are the same because it looks similar. Should have at least considered a lack of Justice League or that Batman might be different."
"Mew."
"Yeah, I suppose it was wishful thinking… Richard and Richard, Jr are probably dead by now." He muttered. He sat in silence for a few minutes, moping in his inability to help.
"No. I can't be negative, here. I need to stay positive. I don't know they're dead, so they might be alive. Okay, I just need a new plan, Brainstorm, Scientific Method. Come on, Sigmore, you got this. Logic it out. Okay, what didn't work… There's no Bat signal, so that's out. Hoping to cross his patrol route didn't work. Finding the crime is not working. Going to Commissioner Gordon would be suicidal; he's not an idealist here. Maybe… Nah that wouldn't work." He rubbed the side of his head with both hands, pushing his hair up with his fingers.
"Meow."
"Not now, Kitty."
"Meeeeowww." The cat pawed at him.
"What?" He looked at the kitten. The kitten moved to stand under the light of one of the Wayne Casino signs. "Yes. I see the Casino sign. They don't allow cats."
"Mew." It lowered its head to his knee.
"And, I'm talking to a cat. Great." He looked at the sign. "Wayne Casinos, huh. It's a pretty glaring difference from our universe, huh Kitty? Same event, different person died, different reaction. All the undercurrents say Martha Wayne is Joker here. She's known for being so charitable in our universe, and here… I suppose parents always look charitable to a six-year-old though.
"I wonder if Wayne Industries changed Batman's methods in our 'verse. Wayne Casinos is definitely more jaded. Wayne Industries was all hope and technology and helping those in need. Casinos are about taking advantage of people and if you blow all your money, too bad, come again." He stared off into space toward the sign. "Maybe that's the key. Batman here is more jaded too, and has entirely different equipment, maybe Wayne is the key."
"Mew!"
"Thanks, Kitty. You have some good ideas. Now… how to talk to Wayne…" He pushed himself up. The kitten protested at the movement. "Oh." He opened up the messenger bag that he had acquired. The bulk of his stuff was well hidden in a forest outside of town. He knelt down and placed it against the ground with the flap open. The kitten crawled in. He stood again and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. The kitten purred and settled down in the pouch and he closed the flap, leaving enough room for it to poke its little head out. He smiled, and walked to the mouth of the alleyway, he looked around, and then smoothly crossed the street and entered the nearest casino.
28 June 2013
Damian darted into the kitchen, and hid behind the counter. He poked his little head out from the side. He looked at his older brother who was sitting at the table, poking at some lukewarm waffles, head resting on the table on a folded arm. Damian crept a little closer, eyebrows furrowed, determined not to make any sound. Dick shifted a little, and Damian froze like a deer in headlights. Dick looked up, and raised an eyebrow at the still child.
"Dami, okay?" He asked, a slight, reluctant smile creeping onto his face.
"Umm. Yes?"
"Are you telling me, or me demander ?"(asking me)
"Telling."
Dick pushed out the chair next to him with his foot. "Suwate." He said, then screwed up his eyes. "Sit." Damian dropped out of his tense stance and scrambled over and onto the chair. Dick immediately pushed the waffles towards the kid. "Eat food."
Damian shook his head. "Grandpa said you needed to eat all of them."
"Full." Dick replied, feeling a little weirded out that the little one was bossing him around. "You eat."
"Nope!"
Dick muttered something under his breath. He looked up and around as he heard heavy footsteps shuffle into the room. Thomas gave Dick a look. Dick sighed and pulled the waffles back towards him and halfheartedly took a bite. Thomas plucked some toast out of the toaster, and buttered it before setting it in front of Damian. Damian happily picked up a slice and started munching, giving his brother a smug smile. Thomas grabbed himself a protein bar and sat down on Dick's other side.
"Barry will be over a little bit." He informed Dick. He brushed a finger across the bruise on Dick's cheek, causing the teen to wince. "That's healing nicely. You and Damian need more clothes." A flash of something passed across Dick's eyes. "Don't worry. I don't feel you're strong enough to come yet. We'll be doing a lot of walking. Barry's going to watch over you while Damian and I are out." Dick looked at Damian and then back to Thomas.
"You keep him safe." Dick sounded out.
"I will." Dick keep looking at him. "He won't leave my side, I promise."
Switching his gaze over to Damian, Dick focused what he wanted to communicate into his gaze. "Stay with Grandpa. Don't wander, okay?"
"Tt." Damian crossed his arms, but nodded. Dick looked appeased.
"Eat your waffles." Thomas said. "You need the calories." Dick scowled, but forced another bite down.
The door slammed open and closed. Dick jumped and quickly repositioned his fork and knife to use as weapons. Thomas turned to glare at the doorway as a gust came rushing in. Damian just kept eating. "I'm here." Barry announced, unnecessarily with a flourish. Dick snorted and dropped the silverware, turning back to his food.
"We talked about this." Thomas said. "Don't slam the door."
"Right. Sorry, Mr. Wayne."
"Sorry infers you won't do it again."
"I won't." Barry said, giving Damian's hair a ruffle. Damian scowled, and batted his hand away. Only Dick was allowed to do that. Barry grabbed a protein bar from the kitchen and flopped down in the fourth chair at the table, across from Dick. "Hi, Richard. Looks like it will be you and me today. Anything you want to do?"
"Cartwheels." Dick said with a straight face.
"Cartwheels? Umm. Maybe we should start a bit smaller."
"Yes. Quadruple flip off lumieres." (lights or chandelier)
"That's not really smaller…"
"You can play board games." Thomas said. "Or read books or watch TV. Things that avoid movement."
Dick slumped and muttered something under his breath. Damian shoved the last of his toast in his mouth. "Ready," He declared through his mouthful of toast.
"Alright, go get your shoes." Damian scurried off. Thomas turned his attention to Barry. He pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to the man. "Richard needs his meds at noon. There are three different pills. He needs to take two of the small round white one, three of the white pill-shaped one and one of the circular red one. The names are on this sheet. Don't let him miss them. He likes to purposefully forget."
"Je les deteste."(I hate those.) Dick mumbled. "I don't need."
"What was that?" Thomas asked. Dick remained silent. "That's what I thought. I know he can walk using the walls now, but he almost fell down the stairs yesterday when he decided he didn't want to wait for me for lunch, so make sure to keep an eye on him." He glanced at the teenager. "Maybe stay on the first floor." Damian ran back in, a pair of old chucks, that were too big for him clopping around his feet. "And Richard," he waited until Dick met his narrowed eyes. "No cartwheels. Don't even think about it." Dick huffed.
"I'll do them for you!" Damian shouted, and, just to prove it, he did two cartwheels out of the room, just like his brother had taught him. He landed on his feet with his arms up, and spun around to see his big brother's reaction. He got a smile and an eye roll.
Thomas laid a hand on Dick's shoulder. "Be good." He gave a quick squeeze and followed Damian out the door.
There were no malls inside Gotham City, just large, multi-floored department stores and areas of the city where many such stores were situated. Thomas parked the car in a parking lot near Macy's department store. It seemed as good a place to start as any, and it wasn't far from Gap Kids, where he was planning to get most of Damian's clothes. Turning around, he checked on Damian. The child was looking around the parking lot curiously, furrowing his nose at the lack of things to see. He got out, and helped Damian out of the car seat. That had been one purchase he had made the first time he'd ventured out for things for the boys.
Thomas reached forward and grabbed Damian's hand as the child started to wander away in the direction of a street vender. Pulling the child a bit closer, he found himself shifting through his memories trying to remember what tricks he used to use with Bruce before the boy was killed. Remembering something, he looked down at the child and said, "Damian, if you're good and stay next to me, we'll go get ice cream afterwards."
"What's ice cream?" Damian asked, blinking up at his grandfather.
"What's ice cream? Your father never gave you ice cream?"
"I told you. I haven't met Tati. I found Dick, but he couldn't get me home. The Bluemen were in the way."
"It's a really tasty food. Most kids love it." Thomas sighed. "We can get some and take it home. I'm sure your brother wants ice cream too, and god forbid I deprive him of seeing your first taste of ice cream."
"Hmm. Why? What's in it?"
"Cream, milk, sugar, and candy mostly. Most kids love it."
"Tt." They entered the store and Damian looked around curiously. "So much." He whispered. "So neat."
Thomas steered Damian to the shoe section and set him in front of the kids' shoes. "Why don't you take a look? Grab whatever you like and we'll get it in your size to try on. I'm going to look for shoes for your brother. Don't wander off." Reaching into his backpack, Thomas pulled out a paper with Richard's measurements on it, as well as a ruler. He waved down one of the salespeople.
"Hello. Welcome to Macy's. How may I… Oh my god! Mr. Wayne." Thomas resisted the urge to groan as some nearby shoppers looked over curiously. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm Natalia. How may I help you, sir?"
"I'm looking for shoes, and eventually clothes, but starting with shoes." He tapped Damian on the head. The little kid looked up with a grin. "For this one and a young teenager."
"Grandpa! They have Batman sneakers! And look! These go up to your knees! And they're green!"
"That's great, Damian. But it's a little warm for boots, buddy."
"Boots…" He eyed the green boots curiously. "It's never too warm for boots." The four-year-old declared, passionately.
"Natalia, do you know what size he would be? I have the measurements for his older brother, too."
"We have a tool to measure size, actually. Although you'll want to go up at least a half size, since when they're this little, they'll be at a minimum uncomfortable in them within a month if you don't." The salesperson grabbed a metal plate with sizes written on the sides and with a slider embedded in it.
"Sweetheart, can you take off your shoes?" She asked Damian. Damian looked up at her glanced at his grandfather who nodded, and hesitantly slid out of his shoes. "Good. Now, if you put your bigger foot here and line your other foot up next to it on the side." Damian grabbed the fabric of his grandfather's pants for balance as he followed her directions. The salesperson slid the slider up to his big toe. Damian flinched and tightened his hold on the fabric. Thomas dropped a hand on the boy's head. "There we go! Looks like he's about a size 12."
Thomas nodded. "Keep looking at shoes, buddy." He told the kid. Damian nodded, and turned away to scan the shelves, but kept a hand in place. Turning back to Natalia, he held out the sheet with Richard's measurements. "Can you recommend any shoes for a young teenager? I'd prefer shoes with lots of support. He was badly hurt and is working on relearning to walk."
"Hmm. There's two ways to look at. Softer on the foot or firmer on the foot. You might want to get him slippers for in the house, which will be soft on his feet. While they won't have much traction, I imagine he'll want something on his feet while walking around, and you can find ones that are better than socks. The last thing he'll want is blisters." She mused. "Another option is some sturdy boots, either lace ups, like combat boots, or hiking boots. It's a little too warm for winter boots, but those would also be an option, and they'll be cheaper if you buy them now rather than waiting until winter. The boots will give him extra ankle support and should have good traction. The downside is they're difficult to put on and he might get blisters to start. You'd want thick socks, and those aren't great for summer either. Sneakers would be in the middle. Easier to put on, good traction, but no support for the ankle."
"What about sandals?"
"Sandals. Well, there a bunch of sandals and many have similar characteristics, but if he was injured, you might want to stick with closed toed shoes for now. If he's wearing sandals outside, he could get a small rock or something in his shoe, which is pretty normal. While that's easy to get out if you're healthy, you need decent balance." Thomas nodded. "If you really want to get him sandals. I recommend Tevos or Keens. They have a lot of support and aren't too difficult to get on. Some of them strap onto the ankle, too. You could also get him waterproof shoes if he's planning to go swimming. We have a big selection over there." She gestured at the rows of sandals, and the section of wall that had waterproof shoes on it. Damian tugged on Thomas's pants to get his attention, and showed the man his armful of shoes. Natalia clapped her hands together. "Let's get started with this little one. What do you have there, sweetheart?" She bent down to eye-level. Damian scowled at her, but at a look from his grandfather, reluctantly held out the shoes he had found. "These are some good ones. I'll go get them in your size. Why don't you and your grandpa go look for some cool shoes for your brother while I'm gone, okay?"
"Tt."
"I'll be right back, Mr. Wayne." Natalia said. Damian climbed up his grandfather and settled on the man's shoulders, looking around. Thomas raised an eyebrow.
"Go forth!" Damian cried in Romani, pointing to a wall of hiking boots with one hand. The other hand was gripping Thomas's ear for balance after spending a few seconds trying to get a grip on his thinned-out hair.
"You have got to be kidding me." Dick gapped at the objects Barry was holding out to him.
"Sorry kiddo. Doctor's orders. We start with these and then work our way up."
"What does he want me to do with it?" Dick asked sarcastically. "Draw a sura?" (picture)
"He wants you to start relearning how to write. Your psychologist suggested you start keeping a journal."
"I can write with un stylo (a pen)! And zhurnaly (journals) are evidence."
"Really? Have you tried writing with a pen? Because when I was last over here, three days ago, you were having trouble holding a sandwich. And I've seen your hands shake trying to get food onto a fork."
Dick glared, but snatched the crayons and paper away. He grumbled under his breath. Looking closer at the paper, he saw it was a couple printed worksheets meant for kindergartners. The letters, both uppercase and lowercase, were written neatly in between two solid lines with a dotted line running through the middle. They were separated by letter with an uppercase letter then the same letter lowercase, and then a blank space with no lines before the next letter. Underneath each line of printed letters was a space then two solid lines with a dotted line through the middle that didn't contain letters where he was to write his own. Dick took a deep breath, trying to push down the anger that wanted to bubble to the surface.
"I'm not a muko (invalid). These are for little kids!"
"Actually, you technically are a 'muko'. You're still healing."
"Screw healing. This istseleniye (healing) is taking too long."
"I know." Flash said patiently. They'd had a similar enough conversation a few days ago, but Dick obviously still wasn't okay with the pace. "I know it's slower than you'd want, but…"
"What would you kennt (know) about it?" Dick interrupted rudely. "You have super healing! You're healed in like a day!"
"Maybe, but that day can feel like a year to me."
Dick huffed.
"Look. Before you know it, you'll be all better, and will be able to run around, and do cartwheels like Mr. Wayne forbid, and write with a pen. But you'll only get there if you go slowly. I know I sound like a hypocrite, but you can't heal quickly. Go too fast, and you'll get a relapse." Barry gently touched Dick on the shoulder. "I know you don't want that. You're finally able to walk around a bit."
"It's taking zu lang(too long). I should be sudeni (better) already! Bruce would be sudeni already!"
"I'm not sure what you said, but I believe I heard your dad's name in there. Your dad didn't go through what you did. You don't know that he'd heal any faster. You're hurt all over. I know you don't want to hear it, but healing will take time."
"Can I kukopa (borrow) your nguvu (powers)?
Barry laughed. "Sorry kiddo. Now, let's get to those letters. This is A. Can you say—" He cut off with a laugh when Dick punched him in the arm. "Ok! Ok! How about I start introducing you to this universe's cartoons while you work? Do you have Donsie films in your universe? No? Well, they are a bit more recent of a studio. Let me put on a few. I think you'll like it."
"We're back!" Damian called as they entered the house. The little kid ran straight to the kitchen and climbed up to start pulling down bowls. Thomas shook his head as he followed the energetic kid. He held a couple buckets of ice cream and some other miscellaneous groceries in his hands. Richard and Barry looked up from the board game they were playing, when he poked his head into the living room. Richard had a large stack of game money and tiles stacked up next to him.
"Any problems?" Thomas asked Barry.
"Not really. I started him on those worksheets you gave me with the crayons. He was a little shaky, but mostly good." Richard scowled down at the board game and sneakily slid Barry's piece back a few places. Thomas smiled.
"Good. Richard, do you want to come see what we got? Damian had a blast picking stuff out for you."
Richard looked at him, tilting his head a bit. "Should I be erschroken (scared)?
Thomas laughed. "I'm assuming you said scared. Depends. How much do you like bright colors?" Richard smiled a bit. Damian really hadn't liked the whitewashed environment of their prison. Even Alex's paintings on the walls hadn't really been enough. Everything since Richard woke up had been color, color, alllawn. Thomas slid an arm around Richard's shoulders and helped him up. "Come on, buddy. We've got a surprise in the kitchen. Barry, can you get the bags from the car and put them in the boys' room, please? Also, there's a pair of red slippers in the Macy's bag. Can you bring those down?"
"Sure thing. Back in a flash!"
Barry passed them at least three round trips as the two made slow progress into the kitchen. Richard wanted to walk on his own, so Thomas just had an arm ready to catch him if he fell. By the time they'd gone the short distance to the kitchen, Barry was already inside, setting the bowls and spoons on the table and Richard had almost slipped three times. However, Richard had made it on his own without gripping any walls or leaning too heavily or too long on Thomas for support, so Thomas felt progress had been made. Thomas pulled the closer chair out with his foot, and Richard took a seat.
Thomas took a pair of red slippers with thick rubber traction on the bottom from Barry. Unlike the slippers from the prison, these rose up past the ankles to give some extra support, and they were red, not white. Thomas snapped the tags off and held them out to Richard. "Here, Richard. Put these on." He said. Richard took the slippers and carefully pulled them onto his feet. He flexed his feet curious, and relaxed a bit at the softness.
Thomas pulled the ice cream out of the bag and set it on the table. Richard's eyes lit up. "Ice yogurt!" He shook his head. "No, ice cream." He sounded out.
"I didn't know what you liked, and since Damian's never had it before, I thought chocolate and vanilla would do." Richard nodded with a grin, and then turned to his little brother.
"You've never had ice cream, Damian?"
"No."
"You'll like it."
"I also got chocolate shell, caramel, whipped cream, and sprinkles. I thought we could make real sundaes out of it. Would you like all of that?" Richard nodded, still smiling, and Damian shrugged. He dished the two out a couple scoops of each flavor, and then covered them in chocolate shell, followed by caramel, a generous amount of whipped cream, and sprinkles. "I thought we could watch a movie after eating them. I have some kids movies left from when… from then that I think you'll like." Thomas scooped himself some ice cream and then offered the scooper to Barry with a warning glare to not take too much.
Damian watched Richard as the teen shakily but happily took a decent sized scoop of ice cream and stuck it in his mouth. Richard waggled his eyebrows playfully at the four-year-old, who ducked his head and blushed. Damian studied the ice cream for a second, and then tentatively took a small bite. He swished the ice cream around in his mouth for a second and swallowed. His eyes widened, and a big grin crossed his face. He took another slightly larger bite and ate it happily, savoring the taste.
Richard pulled the spoon out of his mouth, and smiled at Damian who smiled back, ice cream having already made it around the corners of both boys' mouths. The two ate mostly in silence with an occasional 'yum' or 'om nom nom', as the adults talked about various topics above them, mostly exchanging information about how the day had gone.
Damian finished the ice cream first and grinned up at his grandfather. He pushed the bowl at the man's arm, and said, "More."
"What was that?" Thomas asked, amusement slipping into his tone.
"More, please?" Damian asked, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.
"I think you've had enough for now. If you eat any more, you won't have room for dinner. Maybe later, buddy."
30 June 2013
The room looked like a tornado went through it, or a bomb had gone off. Only small patches of the rug showed through the mess. In a manner completely uncharacteristic to the occupant, toys and books were strewn all over mixed with clothes that formed a trail to an overturned laundry hamper. It looked like it had been practically thrown away. The bed was a mess of tangled and flung sheets. There were no pillows on the bed. Those had made it into the opening of the closet, on top of the hamper, and by the window. The desk chair was wedged under the door knob.
In a small clean corner near the door to the bathroom, a small child sat curled into a ball. His head was down in his knees, only the reddish-black shaggy hair was visible. His shoulders were shaking, and a low keening sound could be heard if you got close enough.
Surveying the room in amazement, Dick gave a low whistle. Or, he tried to. He couldn't really hear it. He meticulously picked his way across the room, careful to put his feet down in the few clean patches. Eventually, he reached the curled-up child on the other side of the room. He knelt down, and reached a hand out. To his confusion, Dick's hand went right through the boy when he tried to shake his shoulder.
The kid froze, and warily looked up and around. "Who… Who's there?" He asked in hoarse voice. Red rimmed, blue eyes searched the disaster zone frantically, but seemed to gaze straight through Dick. Jason's face was wet with tears, clear trails streamed from his eyes down to his chin.
Dick opened his mouth. "Me. I'm here." He tried to say, but nothing came out.
Jason wiped the tears away forcefully. "I warn you. I have… I have… Umm." The kid looked around on the ground. He practically lunged for a towel that lay near him. "I have a towel and I know how to use it."
Dick quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Very threatening." He tried to drawl. Again, he couldn't hear himself speak.
Looking around distrustfully, Jason pushed himself to his feet. Dick stood up with him. Jason carefully inched across the room to the door. Jason gave a quick distance check to the door, and his shoulders slumped immediately when he saw the chair there. He spun the towel into a rope and got ready to slap it at someone if they were to attack him. Increasing the inching to a slow walk, he kept looking around as he went to the door.
Seeing a particular stuffed puppy out of the corner of his eye, Dick hurried over to it. He reached down and tried to pick it up to bring it to Jason's attention, but his finger slipped right through again. He growled with frustration and tried to make his hands solid. It worked for a millisecond. Dick was able to lift the toy an inch off the ground. Then it slipped again, making a soft sound as it hit the pile of clothes it had been sitting on top of. Jason's eyes were instantly drawn to it. Dick saw this, and tried to pick it up again. He only got about a half inch this time. He quickly looked up to see Jason's reaction.
Jason was watching the toy closely. The towel was still held in a threatening position, but his hands had slackened a bit. He slowly walked forward until he was looking down at the toy. Dick took a couple steps back when Jason whipped his head around. He waved a hand in the air all around the toy. Dick flinched as it went through him a few times. Finally satisfied, Jason sent a warning glare around the general area, knelt down, and picked up the stuffed toy himself.
Jason studied it, and then hugged it to his chest. The tears were flowing again as he sank down on the bed, but he seemed a bit calmer. In a better place. He even took in the damage he had done to his room and groaned.
"Bruce is going to kill me." He muttered.
Dick smiled.
2 July 2013
"Right, Je peux faire ca." (I can do this.) Dick carefully reached a bare foot up on the next step, keeping a death grip on the railing. "No es dificil." (It's not hard.) He put weight down on the foot he'd reached up and picked the other one up to follow it. "Just like the walls." He grinned, and stood a bit taller. He carefully adjusted his grip on the banister and kept reaching his feet up, walking up the stairs at a slow, but steady pace. Five minutes later, he stood at the top panting slightly with a large grin. "Take that daraj." (stairs) He swayed a little bit, but managed to catch his balance by quickly shooting his arms out. He nodded with a huge smile, took one step… slipped and tumbled back down the stairs. He rolled up into a ball and slammed into the wall across from the staircase.
"Ow." Dick moaned, blinking tears out of his eyes as he struggled to uncurl and pick himself up. Thomas came running into the foyer from his study. He took one look at Dick, and sighed.
It's been a while, but I have a few excellent chapters in the woodwork that got split open when I realized 4th of July (aka the founding of Young Justice) had gotten skipped over on accident. This chapter is nearly twice my normal length, so that's your reward for sticking with this story.
I am also willing to give fluff nuggets to reviewers. Request your character! Please note that any fluff nuggets with the original Roy Harper will go back in time while fluff nuggets with Roy Harper with no specification will either be present time Red Arrow or original Roy Harper. Unfortunately, I have no way to get fluff nuggets to guests, but please review anyways! Some of the guest reviews have been among my favorites, but I have no way to reply to you guys directly. I just hold onto them and occasionally reread them along with the reviews I am able to reply to.
Seriously, I have one guest review from Rieharper (guest) in 2016 that's starred on my email that I just reread from time to time. (I like reading this more than Crime and Punishment, too.)