Rehabilitation Path
While researching about a villain's parentage as Oracle, Babs discovered that the Information about Amity Park is blocked (maybe is the GIW, maybe is Tucker or an aftermath of Technus shenanigans in the city).
She realizes that she can't investigate about this random place and get concerned, so she decides to investigate it in person. But since is just a reconnaissance mission to understand the technological block she didn't tell the bats, why would she?
When she arrives there, she saw all the things happening: the teen hero, ghosts invasion, government cover-up, etc.
But that's not the worst part, because she also saw that something was happening with the town hero: He was moving like he couldn't see halfway, stumbling, missing his aim, his coordination was obviously failing and the blind spot was so obvious to her!
So instead of telling Bruce or the League as she should, she decided to talk to him. The boy told her that he had a really bad accident and he still felt the aftermath (like her)
When Babs asked him if he had done rehab to recover and he shrugged saying that his powers had fixed it, she was horrified. It seemed that no one had taken the time to give him rehabilitation therapy, a few days in the hospital and he was considered cured!
The boy also admitted about losing sight in one of his eyes over time, but not doing anything because he felt ashamed about it. The boy thought that this disability made him less valuable in combat, that when he recognized it, he would have to stop being a hero! Babs couldn't help but get annoyed with whoever put such a stupid thought in the teenager's head.
So she made up her mind: She would teach that boy about the good path to recovery, and show him that an accident didn't have to ruin his life, she would teach him to to be proud of his newfound disability, because that didn't stop her from being a hero and it wouldn't stop him either.
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if it’s not already out there I need a modern Robin/Julian AU where Robin is Julian’s dealer for, well, anything.
and they eventually hang out together, because Julian can actually be himself around Robin, there’s no expectations and he’s fun and puts up with him! And Robin doesn’t really trust anyone but the untrustworthy MP, who has put his reputation in his hands. His life in his hands.
so try new strains and imports at Julian’s second or third or fourth house, get high off whatever, and eventually make small mistakes - falling asleep in the same bed, roughing up hair just to feel the other man, fumbling open buttons to get out of clothes because the air con isn’t working but neither is my body, craving intimacy when it’s only one more half-hearted drunken shoulder massage away, trying to remember if they actually did touch each other last night or hallucinate it or dream it because everything is melting together now
until the dam breaks
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“I had a real bad alcohol problem. Very few people in the public—no one in the public—knew my problem. We could hide it from them. We could go out and put the bow tie on, and we could wave to the cameras and they’d say, ‘There he goes, good old Ringo.’ But we’d be maintaining at those moments. We’d be dashing home right after it.” [...]
Ringo’s alcohol addiction was so strong that he drank himself into oblivion on the flight to Arizona. “I landed drunk as a skunk at the clinic,” he said. “I drank all the way and got off the plane completely demented. I thought I was going to a lunatic asylum.
I thought I’d gone too far and they were going to put me away in a little cell and forget about me. Instead of that, they put their arms around me and loved me and told me it [would] get better. ‘Give us a chance,’ they said. With God’s help a day at a time it certainly has.”
The five-week course of treatment reportedly cost $35,000 per person. Upon their arrival at [The Sierra Tucson Rehab Center], Ringo and Barbara were put in separate rooms with no televisions or phones. “Eight days in, I decided, ‘I’m here to get help because I know I’m sick,’” Ringo said. “And I just did whatever they asked me and, thank God, it pulled me through.” [...]
Ringo and Barbara were given no preferential treatment. They worked at assigned menial jobs, did their laundry, cleaned ashtrays, and were in bed early. They also attended group therapy sessions and counselling sessions.
“Until I got to the clinic I didn’t realize I was from a dysfunctional family,” Ringo said later. “We had parties, everyone gets drunk and passed out, and that’s part of life. My mother always told me that when I was nine, I was on my knees crawling drunk. A friend of mine’s father had all the booze ready for Christmas, and we decided to try all of it. I don’t remember too much. That was my first blackout.
“You always think you’re witty on alcohol and cocaine,” he said. “You think you’re so witty that you decide to tell the same story over and over and over and over and over again. To the same person. I meet people now . . . and I think, ‘God, was I like that?’ And a little voice inside says, ‘Yes, you were.’”
Ringo: With a Little Help, by Michael Seth Starr
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