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ear-worthy · 1 year

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Pod-Alization: Perel Is A Pearl; Cohen On Trump; Google CEO On AI

Psychotherapist moves her podcast from Spotify To Vox

Psychotherapist and New York Times best-selling author Esther Perel and her popular podcast Where Should We Begin? have moved from Spotify to the Vox Media Podcast Network. With each episode featuring real, anonymous pairs in one-time therapy sessions, Where Should We Begin? has made waves for its intimate and sophisticated take on relationships — consistently making best-of lists from outlets including Vogue, GQ, and Cosmopolitan. This is a good show in my estimation. It's as if Dr. Phil actually knew what he was talking about and cared about his guests. In the podcasting world, this is big news. It's like if quarterback Aaron Rodgers was actually traded from the Green Bay Packers to the New York Jets. FYI -- there are not a lot of podcast network moves in the industry. This is a blockbuster. Perel is recognized as one of today’s most insightful voices on modern relationships. Fluent in nine languages, she helms a therapy practice in NYC and serves as an organizational consultant for Fortune 500 companies around the world. Her celebrated TED Talks have garnered 40M+ views and her bestselling books, Mating in Captivity and The State of Affairs, have been translated into more than 30 languages.

Cohen speaks out on Trump indictment on Mea Culpa Podcast

Leading independent podcast studio Audio Up Media has released Michael Cohen’s exclusive statement about the indictment of former president Donald J. Trump on Cohen’s Mea Culpa Podcast. The show, which recently crossed 80-million downloads, has grown to become one of the largest political news podcasts in America and was instrumental in the former president’s indictment.

“This is a watershed moment for the show and podcasting as a medium,” says Audio Up chief creative officer and Mea Culpa producer Jimmy Jellinek.

Cohen’s statement is also a reminder of the remarkable turn-around he has made from being Donald Trump’s former fixer, “willing to take a bullet” for the former president, into his chief antagonist; willing to stop at nothing to bring down Trump and put an end to his criminal regime.

The Mea Culpa Podcast launched two weeks before the 2020 election on the heels of Cohen’s first book release, the New York Times bestselling “Disloyal,” which charted Cohen’s journey from loyal soldier to prison. His testimony before the House Select Committee prior to his incarceration riveted the nation and was a prescient warning of Donald Trump’s intentions.

Upon release and still under house arrest, Cohen launched Mea Culpa with Audio Up Media. Producer Jimmy Jellinek, a former crime reporter for the New York Times Magazine and Vanity Fair, flew to New York City and built a small recording studio for Cohen in his apartment.

As Audio Up says: "All of this occurred under heavy surveillance from what appeared to be Trump operatives. The show was an immediate hit upon launch. What started as a true mea culpa with Cohen apologizing to America turned into a three-year odyssey to dismantle the Trump agenda."

With twice-a-week episodes and a ubiquitous social media presence, Cohen and Audio Up have kept the show in the news.

Listen to Michael Cohen’s exclusive statement here.

Hard Fork Podcast talks with Google CEO about Artificial Intelligence innovation and safety In the most recent episode of the New York Times's Hard Fork podcast, hosts Kevin Roose and Casey Newton speak with Google C.E.O. Sundar Pichai on Google’s delicate balance between A.I. innovation and safety. For years, Google was seen as one of the most cutting-edge developers of A.I. But, with OpenAI’s release of ChatGPT, and other chatbots beating Google to market, is that distinction still the case? Google’s chief executive is in an unenviable position: Scramble to catch up or, in the face of potentially harmful technology, move slowly. You can listen to this episode of “Hard Fork” on Apple, Spotify, Amazon or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes drop weekly on Fridays. The full transcript of the episode is available here, with highlights below. Casey Newton Yeah, it just strikes me that you are in such a tricky position because you have this one group of people that’s saying, like, move faster. Release the stuff faster. Go compete with all these other people. You built all this technology. Don’t let that lead go to waste. And then you have other people saying what Kevin just said, which is like there’s a non-zero risk that this stuff does something really, really bad. What is that like for you, waking up every day and just having both of those things in your ear? Sundar Pichal There is a sense of some whiplash, right? It’s like asking, hey, why aren’t you moving fast and breaking things again? Which, for all of us, over the past few years. I think we realize we are going to be bold and responsible. We are working with urgency. We are excited at this moment. There’s so much we can do. So you will see us be bold and ship things, but we are going to be very responsible in how we do it. So there will be times when we will hold back things. I think what we are doing in Bard, for us, is an example of it. We haven’t hooked up Bard to our most capable models yet, and we plan to do it deliberately. And so through this moment, I think we are going to stay balanced, but we are going to innovate. And there is a genuine excitement at this moment, so we’ll do that. [...] Am I concerned? Yes. Am I optimistic and excited about all the potential of this technology? Incredibly. I mean, we’ve been working on this for a long time. But I think the fact that so many people are concerned gives me hope that we will rise over time and tackle what we need to do. Casey Newton So we should continue to write columns where we’re very nervous about where all this is going? Sundar Pichal As well as columns where you’re excited about the possible benefits of all of this.

No word if Pichal was actually being controlled by a Google AI cybernetic overload.

#podcast #politics #artificial intelligence #technology #psychology

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peregrineggsandham · 1 year

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Current therapy/psychiatric experiences tally:

People who listen, believe me, let me finish my sentences, are not condescending, aren't bizarrely confrontational: -nice lady who compared me to her son and wasn't weird about it when I couldn't talk clearly during her sessions -intake dude I met one (1) time -grad student who seems to actually give a shit, 10/10

Other: -child psych with the flies -college Freud dude I met one (1) time -Dr. Phil <- actual name -new psychiatrist lady who seems to think that because I am a PhD student I am not actually struggling much at all

I almost don't want to bother anymore. I'm so tired of having to explain myself. I'm so tired of my decade+ of finely-tuned coping mechanisms that allow me to productively function in society apparently being proof that I'm fine. Yes I am in graduate school. Why does this preclude me from having something neurologically wrong going on.

In my second session with grad student dude I brought up the temporary aphasia and the sensory issues. I will never, ever bring it up with new psych lady. Wish I'd thought of making up a fake childhood so they stop getting distracted by All Of That. Yes, it's relevant. Sure. Please let's focus on the issues I have currently. Obviously the Weirdness had an effect. It was not the only factor. Please move on. For the love of god I am not explaining the social mechanisms of the Eastern Caribbean Liveaboard Sailing Community to you, please just trust me, I had friends.

It's like... have you ever had a therapist who, when you express discomfort around them, insists that it's because something they said is making you reflect on yourself in a way you don't like and are trying to avoid? And then you do the self-reflection and realize, no, actually, that's a valid possibility to propose but in the particular case, I am uncomfortable because you are not listening to me.

We're meeting again next month, I guess. I don't really care. Grad student dude is lovely but he's not the one able to actually prescribe things, or decide whether I need them. I just want my brain to work, damn it. I just want to be believed when I say it doesn't.

When I asked "Can you define avoidance?" I am not being difficult! I am not trying to deny that I avoid things! I am asking! For! A definition! There are no secret layers to my words!

Why was she so irritated that I described trying to function as thinking through soup? Why did she keep making broad sweeping statements about me making broad sweeping statements (saying "You're using constant hyperbole" when I said "everything" instead of "most things" one (1) time. once. one time). It's like she was looking for a reason to say I was being difficult. I'm so tired. I'm so, so tired.

I'll see her again. Who knows, maybe she'll be better next time, I think I'm not paying for it through the university. I think. She seems convinced I have anxiety, I really don't think I do, but if she tries to put me on anti-anxiety meds I'll just explain (again, again, again) that the only reason I get anything done is by weaponizing deadline pressure to push past the Wall of Fog, and I'm not risking jeopardizing that before my disseration is finished.

I'm sorry I didn't convince her enough that I was debilitatingly distractible. I guess I'll try again in April.

#sam says stuff sometimes

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jamjamjam53 · 2 years

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I had my 3rd therapy session. I started going into Dad getting sick so soon after Phil passed, how it was hell. I looked at him and could sadness in his expression. I wanted to tell him immediately, "These are the facts. Why are you looking sorry for me? It was this way, and I will present it as facts. Don't annoy me with that face."

It reminded me of that goddamn useless social worker Jonathan at John Hopkins. There was some kind of meeting about Dad's care and the financial situation. Dad's health staus. I was holding my own hand right in my lap, bracing myself through it as Drs talked. And there was fucking Jonathan making sad puppy eyes at us. He couldn't pull what was necessary to get Dad into the VA for treatment, but he could look sorry for us. I hated him. I had left more than one voicemail trying to fuck with him and his position. I ranted about his incompetence.

And yet if I mentioned my anger to Dad, he told me to leave it. Dad, who had all my life told me I was too timid, too passive, that I would be eaten alive. He had spent most of his life rebelling, fighting for the hell of it. I thought he would be proud I was stepping up, being assertive. And here he was now telling me not to fuck with these people as the noose tightened around our necks. When nothing mattered more to me than getting these people to account for this situation, I was told to sit down.

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chintadraws · 3 years

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Great work on Desiree. You and Kitty make a good team. :) How's about...Spectra next? XD

Spectra is my second most favourite villain from the show!

A) Spectra is indeed a licensed professional counselor. She just hasn't renewed her license in a long, long time.

B) Spectra would totally host a TV talk show program something to the likes of a combination Dr. Phil/The Oprah Winfrey show. Instead of giving out free cars, she gives everyone depression and a myriad of emotional turmoil. Already have them? Have some more! But don't worry, you can always come back on the show where she offers free therapy sessions.

C) Spectra is probably the only ghost that does have a real human job and lives in the human world, and no one suspects a thing about her being a ghost. However, she doesn't actually have a humanoid form like some other ghosts do, she's basically a shadow ghost. So, how does she get the realistic human disguise like the one we saw when she first appeared and the one she was working on in Doctor's Disorders? Well...

D) Spectra frequently teams up with Walker to terrorize Danny (who is her most favourite vic—patient). They both love making him miserable and they both love each other. It’s a win-win. I actually have a whole post about Spectra and Walker’s kids too...

If anyone is interested in more of my headcanon musings, feel free to send me an ask~

#danny phantom #penelope spectra #dp headcanons #ironbloodaika #Walker is my top most favourite villain #me @ Spectra/Walker: I just think they're neat #ask

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gemma-lemma · 3 years

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Cloudy Days - JJ Maybank x Male OC

Chapter 2.3 – Redfield

Soon after, the friends were in the twinkie, on the way to Redfield lighthouse. Everything seemed to have returned to normal, but Parker could still see the shadow that lingered over JJ’s eyes clear as day.

He wasn’t paying any attention to how John B tried to explain to his friends how the lighthouse was the right answer, and just studied the Maybank boy’s face.

“Bro, you know how I process my sad feels?” JJ suddenly asked into the room. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies, that’s how I do it.”

Even though what JJ had just said was slightly gross, the others didn’t seem to pay his words any mind. Merely Parker raised a brow, and JJ just shrugged in response. They were in the back together with Pope, who was leaned forward between the two front seats to talk to Kiara and JB. JJ sat right behind him, while Parker was sprawled over the bench on the passenger side.

He raised his foot to nudge him in the side, but JJ slapped it away with a scowl. Parker took it as a challenge, and tried to nudge him again, but he just grabbed him by the ankle and held him still mid-air. Parker tried to wriggle his foot free, and almost would have been successful, but then JJ pressed it down on his thigh and got a secure hold on it like that.

Parker grinned at him, knowing the confident look in his eyes would confuse JJ.

“If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried to reassure John B about the lighthouse in a soft voice.

“Look, I- I don’t need a therapy session, okay?” John B defended. “I’m not trippin’ out.”

“It’s okay to trip, bro, but-“ JJ tried to calm him, but was cut off.

“Look, my dad’s missing, okay? Missing. You don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and then have no idea what happened.” John B said, and Parker looked out the window. Not, he did not know how it was if they were missing. Only if they died in front of your eyes. JJ squeezed his ankle and shot him a questioning look. He didn’t answer.

Pope and JJ suggested that Big John might have been kidnapped. Maybe he was in Vietnam, getting interrogated by the KGB, or even in Atlantis. Parker didn’t really pay attention to the conversation anymore. All he could see was the smile on his mother’s face when she closed her eyes for the last time, finally succumbing to her illness, and the blood dyeing Billy’s t-shirt dark red.

After what seemed like an endless ride, they arrived at the lighthouse, which, according to John B, was Big John’s favourite place.

The friends got out of the van, but Parker decided stay inside another few seconds, trying to regain his calm.

He jumped out just in time to hear Pope talking about variables and JJ yelling at him to shut up. It made Parker think about how his friend Alice had always suffered through the maths lessons at school as if she were being tortured. Nobody understood maths less than Alice, Parker was sure of it.

“Listen to me for a second, just listen!” John B interrupted JJ and looked at Parker. “Parker and Pope are gonna stay on lookout with JJ, alright? If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” He decided, and Kiara agreed.

Parker raised his brows at the retreating figures of his friends.

“Yeah, I’mma work on my merit scholarship essay, and I can’t be involved in a felony.” Pope ranted, snatched the ball JJ was playing with and kicked it around himself. He didn’t pay any mind to the incredulous look the Maybank boy shot him but was out of earshot soon enough.

Parker watched JJ a worriedly.

“How’re ya doin’?”

“Great, thanks.”

“Try again, I don’t believe you.”

“Why wouldn’t you believe me?” JJ snapped and glared at him. The second he saw the look in Parker’s eyes he knew that he had just given himself away.

“Because you just killed the rooster John B said you loved. Have you ever killed anything before?”

JJ scoffed. “Of course I have, don’t be stupid.”

“Insects don’t count.”

“Well, if you’re already all about going Dr. Phil on me, why don’t we ask you a few things too, then, huh? What was that, back at the Château? Since you arrived here you have been a literal wreck, and now you’re suddenly all gangster and bossy? You have too many loose ends, man!” JJ probably hadn’t even realized that he had backed Parker up against a tree until he hit it with his back. He didn’t back down, though.

“That’s how you wanna play this?” Parker laughed, realizing that JJ wouldn’t give him anything for free. “A truth for a truth, then. The first time I ever shot at someone with a gun, was to protect my friends. He would have hurt them, and I couldn’t let that happen, no matter how frightened I was. Same thing happened back at the Château. You guys were in danger, and I had to get my shit together and protect you.” He said with a dangerous smile. “That’s how things work where I come from. The law of the jungle allows no weakness.”

But JJ didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. “We were in danger also when the cops almost found us in the motel room. We were in danger when those guys shot at us or when they wrecked Ms. Lana’s hut. Where were your balls of steel then, huh?”

“Something happened, before I came here. Something bad, that really shook me. I’m still not over it, so don’t get surprised when I suddenly relapse. But today was a closer call than those before, and the situation reminded me specifically of back then, so I managed.”

“What happened?”

“Nuh-uh. That’s not how a truth for a truth works. It’s your turn, now. How are you?”

JJ started backing off, but Parker was faster. He grabbed him by the collar and spun them around, so that now JJ was pressed up against the tree. He struggled to get free at first, but then gave up and stared right into Parker’s eyes, challenging him. When he realized that Parker wouldn’t even accept the challenge, he sighed and averted his eyes again.

“I can’t really understand that I killed the rooster yet, I guess. It doesn’t feel like sadness, or remorse, it just feels bad, and I hate it. That was a living being – an animal that was dear to me. How can I not feel sorry for killing it?” He said quietly, and Parker could hear the pain in his words. He softened his grip on JJ’s shoulders.

“The sorry will come later.” He explained softly. “But if that’s what you’re worried about, I can reassure you. This bad feeling that you’ve got? The one that seems to be eating away at your insides and making you sick to the stomach? That’s what you got for taking a life. It’s gonna feel bad for a while, and at some point remorse will crush you. Maybe you’re lucky and it won’t be that bad because it was just an animal, but it will still hurt. And then you have to feel the pain. It’s like in that John Green novel: pain demands to be felt. That’s the only way you can get over it.”

JJ nodded, deep in thought. Parker’s words seemed to soothe his raging mind a little, but he was still perturbed, so he added: “And if you ever need someone to talk to during that time, or someone to sit beside you while you work things out by yourself, I will be there for you.”

Again, JJ nodded, then his eyes widened as if suddenly realizing something. He looked back into Parker’s face and grabbed his wrists in an iron hold, securing them mercilessly ion his shoulders. “’Maybe you’re lucky and it won’t be that bad because it was just an animal’” He repeated Parker’s words and suddenly he knew that he had made a mistake. “What have you killed, Parker?”

As JJ had expected, Parker tried to rip free, but he wouldn’t let him. He stared at him urgently, waiting for an answer.

The sound of approaching sirens saved Parker from having to answer and they sprinted towards the twinkie. Pope jumped in the driver’s seat, and off they went towards JJ’s house.

They hung out there a while, waiting, but when neither John B nor Kiara showed up Parker decided to drive the twinkie back to the Château. He had ignored any try from JJ’s side to pry any information out of him, not just yet ready to tell him about the men he’d killed to save himself or his friends.

When he parked the car, he was met by John B cleaning up his home and throwing pizza cartons away.

“Hey man, what happened? Weren’t we supposed to meet up at JJ’s?” He greeted, and immediately felt the sour mood his cousin sported.

“You want the long version or short?” He responded and proceeded to put empty glass bottles into a box.

“Medium rare.” Parker answered, just to mess a little. John B actually chuckled quietly. Bingo.

“I kissed Kiara. She pushed me away.” He began and went still, waiting for Parker’s reaction.

“Told you so.” Was all he said, not really surprised that his cousin had tried it after the conversation they’d had on the way to Ms. Lana’s house with JJ.

“I apologized, but she said it was okay.”

“I think nobody cares about you the way Kiara does. She’s doing her best to be a good friend and make it as easy on you as possible. I understand where your confusion is coming from, but I think you should try and take care of her a little better, too. Especially now that this misunderstanding is out of the way.”

John B shrugged in a way that said: You’re right, but I don’t really know what to say now. So he just proceeded with his story. “Then we were arrested because I hurt the lighthouse guy. Peterkin told me that she knew about the compass, I denied having it, Kiara’s dad got us out. I think he hates us. The square groupers chased me through the streets, Peterkin saved me, I gave her the compass, and Ward Cameron fired me because he found out about the scuba gear we took.”

Parker raised his eyebrows, trying to process what John B had just said. “Nice afternoon, man.”

“Yeah, right?”

Parker looked out to the scoop, suddenly remembering something.

“Is that damn turkey still in there?” He asked, and John B nodded.

“Should we bury it or burn it?” He asked, the question directed almost more to himself than to John, and watched him stack a lot of old stuff he recognized from his father’s office and from around the house on a pile.

“If you wanna burn it get it now, because I’m gonna burn all this junk here right now.” He said, taking out a box of matches.

Parker frowned. “You sure you wanna destroy all this?”

“Yeah, pretty.” John B lit the pile on fire and poured gasoline into the flames. They both watched at them in awe for a bit, but then Parker snapped out of it, grabbed an empty box and went to put the dead rooster inside.

“Rest in peace, or something.” He murmured, staring into the creepily open eyes of the animal. “I hope rooster heaven’s nicer than North Carolina.”

Then he closed the lid and crawled out of the scoop, just in time too see John B grab something from out of the fire and stomp on it to stop the flames.

“What the hell are you doing, man?”

But John didn’t answer, he just stared at the pin board he had just saved, as if it held the answers to all of his questions.

Then he looked up. “I think I know what Redfield means.”

#jj maybank #obx #fanfiction #bisexual

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paipayaseeds · 3 years

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Miu would jump in surprise at Kirumi's supposedly sudden appearance, huffing before becoming her usual ornery self. Glaring at the maid she'd cross one arm over her stomach before pointing a finger.

"Next time announce when you're going to sneak up on me, sk-skank!"Despite the inventor's harsh choice of words, it seemed she, oddly, hadn't meant to say it. Even then, it was obvious the girl needed a new vocabulary that didn't consist of the world's most harshest vulgarities.

"Miu.. Are you okay?"

The girl in question would let out a confused noise, holding her side before turning the other way. It wasn't her business if she was 'okay' or not. They were in an investigation, not a therapy session.

The girl genius with a golden brain didn't need to get into the science of emotions. That was for limp dicked wimps.

"What's it matter to you huh granny? We're in an investigation for a murder, not a fucking Dr. Phil show, so why don't you go mosey on over and clean or whatever the hell a maid does!?"

Oh yeah. This was Miu's defense system.

-----------------

"Hey Rantaro.." She lightly tapped Amami's shoulder, having been just a little bit afraid of him at this moment. But, she'd cast that fear to the side for now. They needed to find who killed Anya.. Or find out who the mastermind was.

"I know you're in pain right now.. But me and Shuichi just need to ask a few questions that just might help bring Anya's killer to justice. Is.. Is that Okay with you?"She asked softly. Kaede hadn't wanted to rush him but,

She didn't exactly wanted him to not answer either. It's as Shuichi said before,

He's more connected to this case then anything else.

-----------

Ryoma patted Kaito's hand, a small lazy smile on his face as he'd join the saddened man. "We'll find out what happened eventually."The man would assure, his eyes closed as he enjoyed whatever mood there'd been.. Well maybe not the mood,

But rather the serenity and peace there'd been for saying goodbye to the dearly departed.. Something he wish he had the chance to do a long time ago.

Kirumi sighed, indifferent by the distasteful nickname. “Under different circumstances, I would clean if you desired me to — however, I’m afraid if I did, I’d be tampering with evidence. Is there anything else you’d like me to do for you, Miu? You look disgruntled. I only want to help.”

Kirumi showed nothing but sincere determination on her face as she fretted over Miu. The maid kept a safe distance, ready to leave her alone if she asked her to.

------------------

Rantaro, despite feeling like he had just gotten his heart stomped on by guilt, several thousand times; sucked it up. Vigorously wiping at his face, he nodded hesitantly before standing up — the note in his hand folded delicately before being slid back into his pocket. "Y- yeah... Yeah." brushing himself off, his face slowly contorted back into one of determined focus as he gazed at the two.

Despite not wanting to suspect anyone, he had no choice but to. This... was the killing game, right? Anya's death, it signified the start of it. The start of suspicion. Even so, that was what Monokuma wanted. So he would still have to somehow work with everyone.. he could only hope he didn't work with the wrong person.

Rantaro definitely found himself suspecting the two already; his trust issues had certainly risen, but he was one to talk — he was the most suspicious one here. He'd decide to share information, but... not all of it.

As soon as Rantaro had agreed, Shuichi had to hold himself back from bombarding the man with questions, settling for storing the questions in his head and starting with the first one; the one everyone who had witnessed Rantaro lying there had been wondering — "How did you end up unconscious... behind the library door?" Where Anya's body had been found.

Rantaro pursed his lips, launching any leftover tears and feelings to the back of his mind as he thought of a way to explain without... explaining. "I don't know. Y- I don't know,"

"I was just trying to find the loo, but before I know it, ... someone had knocked me unconscious." Rantaro wasn't sure if it was the best choice to mention that... Anya had been the one to hit him. He'd decide later, but right now, he had to wait for the foggy headache to clear.

He felt the back of his head, sighing at the dried blood. Rantaro furrowed his brow, wondering if he should mention the note that he hadn't realized Shuichi noticed; despite waving it around like an idiot.

Despite Shuichi's suspecting stare, Rantaro couldn't find it in himself to actually be affected by it. "You... didn't catch who it was?" The detective was rendered disappointed as Rantaro shook his head.

The tension was growing, the air just slightly thick as Shuichi backed off. "Rantaro... Thank you for the information. Please know that we are only trying to figure out what happened to Anya."

Rantaro stifled a wince but grinned at the best of his ability. "Yeah, me too."

Shuichi's analyzing eyes shifted to Anya's body, widening a hair as he noticed Kaito and Ryouma seemingly paying their respects, or investigating. Either or.

Turning back to Kaede, he bore a mournful expression. "We should... investigate her body."

#mod chia #rantanya #rp #RYOUMA SHBADJFSKFJBSDFJAHBFSD #THE ANGSTSTSAFTYDFVADFB #and yes #RANTARO SAYS L O O #SORRY FOR TAKING LONG ASBHJAKSBDFAJSDHFBADS AAGRHGHGSIH

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enthusiasticsobrietyabuse · 3 years

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Bob Meehan - Times Advocate: Sunday, August 26, 1984

The story of a con man who helps kids kick drugs

Robert Meehan describes himself as a hippie, a rebel, a former heroin addict and a con man. There is no one better qualified, in his mind, to help teenagers get off drugs.

Meehan is the director of a Valley Center drug-rehabilitation program for young drug abusers called SLIC - Sober Live-In Center - Ranch. The former director of a major Houston-based drug rehabilitation program, Meehan has won high praise from clients and their parents, who have included comedians Carol Burnett and Tim Conway.

Despite that praise, however, Meehan's methods have attracted considerable controversy. He left the Houston Palmer Drug program in 1980, after television reports questioned the accuracy of the program's vaunted success rate and Meehan's possible conflict of interest in receiving a lucrative hospital consulting fee.

Meehan's problems did not end when he left Houston, however.

The county has declared SLIC Ranch to be in violation of zoning ordinances, and the state has threatened to close it down unless Meehan gets proper license to run a drug-treatment program. The county has also questioned SLIC's ties to a burgeoning self-help drug program called Freeway that has a satellite programs throughout San Diego County.

SLIC, which charges $4,000 a month and caters mainly to children of affluent parents, has also prompted concerns among drug-counseling professionals. Some worry that the cost of the program is excessive and that it relies heavily on non-professional counselors to provide treatment. They also express concern that Meehan could exert undue influence over his impressionable young charges.

Meehan established SLIC Ranch in 1981 as a privately-funded live-in center for young drug abusers requiring daily counseling to overcome their habits. Between 10 and 16 young people live in a rambling ranch-style house, supervised by Meehan and recovered drug-abusers who have gone through the SLIC program themselves.

While two professional psychologists are associated with the program, the emphasis is on former drug addicts and recovered alcoholics whose counseling approach is: "I've been there before." Meehan himself is a former heroin addict and recovered alcoholic.

Meehan, who wears his hair shoulder-length and sports tight designer jeans and a gold chain necklace, both dresses and acts hip - partly, he says, to gain the trust of his young clients.

"They say, 'Wow, look at this crazy old hippie,'" said Meehan, who does not care to modernize his image.

"I'm still a rebel. I'm still a hippie. I don't know how to change. I love the cause. I feel like I've got as righteous a cause as the Vietnam War."

Meehan said he can understand how parents bringing their kids to SLIC might be leery of him, given his appearance.

"I don't know if I'd trust me," he said, laughing. "But beneath this hair is a red neck. I'm a Republican. Voted for Reagan."

But when he talks about drugs, Meehan speaks in a voice that teenagers can understand.

"It's the Cheech-and-Chong generation," Meehan is fond of saying to his clients. "They're committing suicide on the installment plan."

Meehan often harps on the comedy team of Cheech and Chong, whose trademark is overindulgence in marijuana. In sharp contrast to some health professionals, Meehan regards marijuana as one of the most dangerous drugs used by teenagers.

"Marijuana is the most insidious chemical in society today," because it affects the mind, Meehan said. "I'd rather the kids were shooting heroin."

Meehan's message and his style often prompt adulation from the young people in his care.

"He has the answer to everything," said 16-year-old girl from La Jolla who said she was having trouble getting along with her mother, who had recently remarried. "He has love. It's like one big family. We work together and play together, and it's fun. And Bob's our big daddy."

Meehan, 41, the son of an Irish policeman, grew up in Baltimore. He said he started taking drugs at age 12.

He became an alcoholic and a heroin addict, spending four years in state and federal prisons for drug convictions. While in a Texas jail, Meehan was befriended by an Episcopalian priest. Upon his release he became the janitor for the Palmer Memorial Episcopal Church in Houston.

The priest urged Meehan to stay off drugs by counseling some of the local kids with drug problems of their own. Meehan said that at the time he was "a crazy kid with a 'hellatious' ego and visions of grandeur" and too flattered to turn down the offer.

The informal, self-help group began in 1972 with six members. It grew to become the Palmer Drug Abuse Program, which, according to Meehan, has had 30,000 participants. Meehan described it as "the most powerful drug program in the world."

It was closely modeled after the Alcoholics Anonymous program, with recovered abusers helping their peers.

Palmer garnered national publicity in the late 1970s, when actress Carol Burnett sent her daughter, Carrie Hamilton, there for treatment. Burnett was so impressed with her daughter's improvement that she and her husband accompanied Meehan on the "Phil Donahue Show" and other television shows to tout the program's success.

But Meehan's claims that his program had a cure rate of 75 percent to 80 percent attracted some sharp scrutiny.

In January 1980, CBS' "60 Minutes" TV program broadcast a piece on Palmer. According to a transcript of the broadcast, Meehan conceded under repeated questioning by Dan Rather that he did not have documentation to support his alleged success rate.

Rather also questioned Meehan's $50,000 annual consulting fee from a Houston hospital to which Palmer routinely sent young drug addicts for costly medical treatment. Meehan said during the interview that he saw no conflict of interest.

Meehan was also asked about his power to "persuade" some of the program's vulnerable young clients.

"I have that power," Meehan said. "I certainly do. I've been a con all my life. Just now I'm using it in a good way, see."

Following the "60 Minutes" piece, Meehan was asked to leave Palmer. In retrospect, Meehan now says, he could have prevented his firing by paying more attention to program details.

"I wasn't doing a damn thing wrong," he said. "I didn't mind the store. I was naive."

Meehan came to San Diego to work for Contemporary Health Inc., which was consulting with Center City Hospital, now Harborview Hospital, to establish a drug-abuse program. But his work for the hospital was short-lived.

"My methods are very unorthodox," Meehan said. "I was always fighting the staff."

While working for the hospital, however, Meehan helped establish a self-help counseling program called Freeway. It was modeled directly after Palmer and named after a rock music group formed at Palmer to entertain the kids in the program.

Freeway was started in 1982 by Jac Coupe, a former Palmer counselor, and by other Palmer employees who has left Texas after Meehan's departure. It now has centers in Coronado, Point Loma, Solana Beach and the newest one in Fallbrook.

The program, whose services are free, is funded in each community by local civic groups and churches. It is open to people 13 to 25 seeking help for drug and alcohol problems.

Participants are encouraged to attend weekly group-counseling sessions and to follow a 12-step program to achieve sobriety. Those who are severely addicted are referred for hospital treatment. In some cases, however, Freeway counselors conclude that a young person needs more intensive counseling - at SLIC Ranch.

Those who go to SLIC for a typical one-month stay range in age from 13 to 24, with the average age about 16. Most are psychologically - not physically - addicted to drugs. They have come to get free of dependence on marijuana, alcohol, speed and LSD.

Pat, a 19-year-old Rancho Santa Fe youth, realized he needed help when he mugged a woman to get money for his $600-a-week cocaine habit. John, a 21-year-old alcoholic from Clairemont, had tried a variety of alcohol treatment programs with no success.

SLIC participants live in a spacious ranch house, set among the oaks and hills of Valley Center, with a garden and pond-shaped swimming pool. They share bedrooms dormitory-style, with three or four to a room.

The participants are required to prepare their own meals to their own tastes, and there are no planned menus. Cereal and hot dogs are staples.

The rules prohibit drugs, alcohol, sex and violence. However, smoking, which is allowed, is prevalent.

"We don't care about cigarettes, diets and vitamin intake," Meehan said.

Participants spend most of their days in counseling. During their free time they are allowed to lounge by the pool and play rock music, much to the dismay of the neighbors. Occasional field trips are taken to Disneyland and other amusement centers.

SLIC residents are supervised by a staff of six, most former SLIC residents themselves. At least one staff person is on duty 24 hours a day.

One of the supervisors, Jackie Moors, 26 got off drugs a year ago after going through the SLIC program. Moors, who started doing drugs at age 10 and progressed until she was shooting up crystal methamphetamine, credits SLIC with turning her life around.

"The next stop would have been either jail or death" without SLIC, she said. The program worked, she said, because "people really cared about me." Her young son stays with her at the ranch.

Meehan said one goal of the center is to show residents "how to have more fun sober" than on drugs or alcohol.

Every weekday SLIC residents are transported by van to a rented house in Escondido, where they spend six hours in therapy and discussion.

The sessions are directed by Meehan and by Peter Sterman, a psychological assistant, who cannot practice without supervision of a licensed psychologist. His supervisor is Dr. Carl E. Morgan of San Diego.

In the evenings and on weekends, the residents are often taken to meetings of Freeway or Alcoholics Anonymous.

Last month the state notified Meehan that the center was operating without a license and threatened to close it down unless the center meets state standards required for a so-called residential-care license.

SLIC has been operating without a license because Meehan has successfully dodged the requirements, according to Tom Hersant, director of the San Diego office of the state's Community Care Licensing Division.

He told state officials that the ranch was operating not as a residential-care center providing therapy to live-in clients, but as a "boarding house," with the boarders receiving their counseling off the ranch in an Escondido house.

Meehan told the Times-Advocate that he attempted to avoid licensing to keep costs down.

Last month state investigators who has been suspicious of the arrangement finally confront SLIC officials.

"They told us, 'All right, already. We do provide therapy,'" Hersant said. "Suddenly now they're 'fessing up that they offer therapy."

State officials informed Meehan that a license would be needed.

To obtain a license the center would have to meet fire safety standards, provide a medical checkup for new clients to insure they are getting the appropriate treatment, and keep records evaluating the clients' progress. SLIC would no longer be allowed, as it does now, to mix clients younger than 18 with those older than 18.

Please see Ranch, page B2

Meehan has insisted that the licensing requirements are minor. He said he would comply, though he feels that the regulations would bring too much formality to the relaxed way he runs the program.

Not only must the ranch be licensed, but the counseling program run at the Escondido house must obtain a separate license to offer drug counseling. Once a facility is licensed, the state inspects it once a year to insure that standards are met.

Hersant said SLIC has agreed to apply for the two licenses. The licensing approval usually takes 90 days. If no licenses are obtained, he said, the state will move to shut SLIC down.

Meehan said he plans to meet the state requirements, but he dislikes the paperwork.

"I will comply to whatever extent I have to, to help young people," he said. "At the same time, I just want to do my thing."

Meehan said his problems with the state occurred because of negative publicity generated by the ranch's landlord, Clayton Blehm, an Escondido accountant. Blehm was sentenced in June to one year in jail for zoning violations at the Valley Center property that included adding illegal structures around the ranch. He is out on bail awaiting an appeal.

Blehm has also been cited by county zoning officials for allowing SLIC to move in without getting a major use permit - required to run a treatment center in a rural-residential area. The zoning investigations were prompted by complaints from neighbors, some of whom said that a drug treatment center did not belong in their quiet neighborhood and that they were repeatedly disturbed by loud music.

Last year SLIC and Freeway were the subject of an "informal investigation" by the county Division of Drug Programs. The investigation was prompted partly by complaints from a San Diego city schools official concerned that Freeway encouraged some young persons to stay away from school for one to three months to avoid their drug-using friends.

The report concluded that the complaint was the result of lack of communication between the school district and Freeway and that the two should work out an understanding.

The county investigation was also prompted by concerns about SLIC's relationship with Freeway.

"On the surface," the report said, "one might question the referral relationship, since both program directors hold a personal acquaintance that foes back to the Palmer Drug Abuse Program in Houston. However, DDP has no documentation information to suggest there is any impropriety or conflict of interest in the referral process."

Meehan said he has no break-down on where SLIC clients come from, but that many are referred by Freeway. He said SLIC and Freeway have no financial arrangements, because that would be unethical.

"There can't be," he said. "There's absolutely no financial arrangement either way."

Meehan urges all SLIC residents to attend Freeway counseling sessions after they leave the ranch. That is critical to staying sober, according to Meehan.

"If we can't hook a kid into Freeway," he said, "his chances are less than 60 percent of making it."

Some who go through the SLIC program are advised to live with "Freeway families" for several months, rather than with their own families. Meehan defended the practice for some clients, contending they would fall back into bad habits at home.

Asked whether continued reliance on Freeway would hurt a client's chances of becoming independent, Meehan said, "It's a very safe group of friends to have. I don't know if it's an unhealthy dependency."

According to Meehan, 90 percent of those who have gone through the SLIC program in the past 18 months have remained sober or off drugs after they left. He said that figure comes from undocumented reports from Freeway officials. "I hate statistics," he said.

Despite its concerns, the County Division of Drug programs concluded that there was "no documentable evidence" to prevent the county from recommending SLIC and Freeway as treatment centers.

At the time of the investigation, Meehan was serving the first year of a three-year term on the county's Advisory Committee on Drug Abuse. The 11-member volunteer committee helps county officials select drug-treatment programs to receive county money.

Freeway centers, which are privately funded, are generally located in affluent regions of the county.

"They're in the ones that can pay for it," Meehan said. "They have raised the money."

Parents in those communities can also afford to send their children to SLIC. The $4,000-a-month cost of attending SLIC has raised eyebrows among professional drug counselors.

By comparison, the county-funded McAllister Institute of Training and Education in El Cajon charges about $720 a month to treat women with drug problems.

Jessica Lewis, program director for Community Resources and Self-Help Inc., which has a county contract to treat drug abusers in San Diego, said the program has never referred anyone to SLIC. Lewis said her program's clients cannot afford Meehan's program.

"His target audience is kids from families that are financially successful," she said. "He's earning big bucks. More power to him. He has a mindset of big business and the heartset of helping people. I don't question his sincerity."

During his "60 Minutes" interview four years ago, Meehan said he was worth more than the $100,000 he was then making. He would not say in a recent interview how much he makes running SLIC.

Meehan, who lives in Rancho Bernardo, said that despite the $4,000-a-month per-person SLIC Ranch fee, he is not getting rich.

"Where that profit is, I haven't seen it yet," he said. "I make enough to pay my bills and save $100 a month."

Some health professionals were reluctant to speak candidly about Meehan's program. One noted that Meehan, because he sits on the county advisory committee, wields influence over the finances of many local treatment programs.

Nevertheless, some drug-treatment experts expressed reluctance to refer clients to SLIC because of its reliance on non-professional counselors. After sitting on a panel discussion with Meehan, Greg Baer, head nurse of the substance-abuse unit at Southwood Psychiatric Hospital in Chula Vista, he said he would not recommend Meehan's program for anyone.

"I just question his ability to be therapeutic," said Baer, whose program also treats adolescents for as much as $10,200 a month. "The people we deal with need a therapeutic approach from people who are knowledgeable... you need to have knowledge of what you're doing and not just go with a gut feeling."

Baer criticized SLIC's exclusion of the families of young drug abusers from its treatment program.

"If Johnny is going to return home, you have to discuss how this is going to be done... Otherwise you are doomed for failure," he said.

Some professional counselors said they worry about Meehan's influence over young people. Lewis said it is important for an organization such as SLIC, which treats emotionally-dependent people, to be accountable to a licensing or watchdog agency. Otherwise, she said, clients can be exploited.

"It's a pain in the neck," she said, "but I'm prepared to answer to those (licensing) people. There are enough people looking over our shoulder to make sure our clients are safe."

John Adam, a licensed psychologist in Coronado who has monitored SLIC Ranch and Freeway for more than a year, said he is concerned about the unorthodox nature of the counseling. Adam said the adulation that SLIC participants feel toward Meehan resembles hero worship.

"Any time you depend on the charisma of a leader, you fear that results will fade with time or distance from the guru," he said.

Meehan said he knows that he has tremendous influence on this young charges, but he tries to use that to good purposes.

"I'd like to think I'd become one of their local heroes instead of Cheech and Chong," he said.

But he acknowledged that his relationship with the clients could lead to problems.

"Yeah, it scares me," he said. "You get into a real guru (situation). This is where cults can begin."

"I have an advantage, though, because they're here only 30 days. I cut them loose emotionally when they leave here."

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imagines-mha · 5 years

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1-A dorm headcanons

⚡️ Every single morning without fail, someone ends up falling asleep again on the couch. It’s usually Kaminari

💙 Iida loves to put post it notes for his classmates around the dorms reminding them to do tasks or telling them what time dinner will be. He loves feeling helpful

💙 He will also 110% have a rhoda of chores for everyone to follow and only God can help you if you don’t

🧡 Sero loves to put sticky notes on people’s doors with positive messages on them so they can wake up in the morning and get that boost to start their day he’s so pure

💕 The girls all have matching pyjamas and often they gather in Mina’s room for girly nights- where they just eat pizza and talk about life. It’s the best stress-reliever

❄️ Todoroki cannot function in the mornings without coffee- like he literally cannot speak a single sentence. There’s usually a race for everyone else in the class to see who can bring him his coffee first (Deku always wins)

🖤💜 The night-owl duo (Tokoyami, Jirou) will stay up in the lounge listening to mcr and having deep talks™️ at like 3am every friday night and it’s like genuine therapy for them

🐰 Kouda somehow has a new pet every few weeks- and he still hasn’t got caught sneaking so many animals in. Last week it was a cockatoo

💥 Bakugo has to be in bed by 8:15pm every school night or else someone will die. He’s also a nerd who reserves like 3 hours a day for study and does NOT take a break over holidays

❤️ Kirishima’s that angel friend who comes home with take-out or starbucks for everyone after a hard test. If someone’s having a bad day- he’ll make it his personal mission to see them smile and make sure they’re okay

🐙 Shouji helps everyone out so damn much, and in the winter he becomes everyones saviour. He’ll wrap his arms around so many friends on the couch to keep them warm and make so many cups of hot chocolate at once.

💖 Hagakure is the biggest prankster in the entire class, save for Kaminari. When a prank war breaks out, everyone tries to team up with her cus she’s constantly scaring people with her quirk

✨ Aoyama sleeps in silk pyjamas and he loudly announces “C’EST TIME FOR MY BEAUTY SLEEP” every single night as loud as he can because he loves it when people say goodnight to him it makes him feel special.

✨ He also makes people self care bundles and gives them tips on keeping their skin and hair fresh

🐒 Ojiro is the dr. Phil of 1-A. The Jeremy Kyle if you will. When a fight breaks out, they’ll usually come to him for help to resolve it because he’s so naturally good at resolving shit he’s like a mediator

🍰 Sato is the resident angel of the dorms. He has a list of everyone’s favourite dessert, and he’ll randomly just surprise people whenever he’s training. He also gives the most random and sweetest compliments

🐸 Asui is the mom of the dorms, but she’s also the baby. If it’s raining outside- she’ll be the one to remind you to bring an umberella, if you have a cold- she’s a walking drugstore. She’ll make sure you’re always okay but she loves to splash in puddles and snuggle into her fluffy onesies and it makes everyone melt with love for her

☕️ Momo’s that friend that comes home one day with 23 shopping bags, diamond sunglasses and a huge smile like “i just picked up a few things for you all”. Gifts CONSTANTLY

☕️ During exam season she’s like a saint. She’ll sit at the table, do frequent tea runs and give the best help and advice.

💘 Uraraka has so much love and energy in her she makes the dorms function perfectly. She’s also the one to just come home from school and flop onto the couch and just...lay there for hours on end groaning

💚 Everyone just loves Izuku’s presence. He’s always found at the table doodling and updating his notebook, murmurring and humming to himself it’s adorable

💫 It’s such a loving environment. When the girls are on their periods the boys (lead by Kirishima) will bake for them and bring them anything they need like heatpacks etc

💫 When the boys are having a hard time or are too stressed the girls will bring them into their rooms and give them a spa session

❌ Mineta always gets locked outside like a sad rodent. Especially in the snow

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 4 years

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DC:IRL Gotham Rogues Gallery

My original post: https://somethingusefulfromflorida.tumblr.com/post/190712516986/dcirl

There are no super powers, no magic technology or medicine, no cartoony gimmicks, just normal people going about their lives in the big city (well, not “normal,” per se). In the real world there are no “super villains,” so in this universe these people are just mundane criminals with varying degrees of severity. What would be the real world implications? Nobody wears a mask. Nobody plays a character. What if their mental illnesses and motivations were grounded in reality rather than fantasy comic book land where “crazy people” commit crimes for fun? What if Gotham was just New York, a regular city, not some dystopian hellscape?

John Doe: little is known about the so-called Joker Killer, this John Wayne Gacy wannabe who murdered 37 Gothamites in the last 10 years. He’s like the Zodiac Killer, Son of Sam, the Unibomber, always leaving calling cards for the police, daring them to track him down. Nobody knew if he was just one guy or if there was a group of people using the Joker alias as a scapegoat to throw the police off their trails. When the culprit was finally caught, it was revealed that he’s a phantom, he didn’t have any government records, and to this day nobody is sure how he managed to cover his tracks so well. He was found guilty, but legally insane, so was remanded to Arkham State Psychiatric Hospital. He doesn’t play well with the other inmates. Or the doctors. Or the guards. He doesn’t have henchmen, he doesn’t ransom world leaders, he’s just a serial killer with a theme, not a domestic terrorist with goals.

Oswald Cobblepot: a mobbed up ex-lawyer who runs a night club as a front for his criminal activities. He’s basically Roger Stone is Roger Stone was smart enough to avoid going to prison. He’s a public figure in Gotham, and pretends to be a philanthropist to cover for the fact that he’s very clearly corrupt. He owns multiple buildings with his name on them, he refuses to rent apartments to black people, he molests women and brags about it on tape, and has run (unsuccessfully) for mayor, governor, senate and president of the United States on multiple occasions. Everyone knows he’s guilty of something, but the GCPD refuses to look into his finances because some of them are on his payroll.

Harvey Dent: Gotham District Attorney known for fighting corruption, he was nearly assassinated by the mob, horribly disfigured over 50 percent of his body. He struggles with bipolar disorder, exacerbated by his incident, but continues to fight the good fight, all the while going through therapy. There’s a 50-50 chance he’ll recover and return to the practice as an underdog or have a mental episode and become a Howard Hughes recluse. As a public figure he has access to all the help he needs, he is privileged not to have to suffer in silence like so many other mentally ill people.

Eduardo Dorrance: he’s this universe’s version of Fidel Castro. A left-wing extremist from a small Caribbean island, he killed his way to head of the communist party and overthrew the government in the Santa Prisca Revolution in the 1960s. President Kennedy instated an embargo against the island, after which the Soviet Union attempted to store chemical weapons there, which Dorrance co-opted to be used against political dissidents and human rights workers. He is nicknamed Bane by the western world, and is one of the last holdouts of the Cold War, though he is aged and in poor health now (there are conspiracy theories that he’s actually been dead for years), and has pawned off leadership responsibilities to his brother.

Pamela Isley: environmental activist, conservationist, speaks out against climate change and deforestation, wanted by Interpol because she killed a few of the billionaires responsible for the Amazon fires. She’s labeled a terrorist by the US government, with conservatives going so far as to call her the female Osama bin Laden. Whether or not she really is a terrorist is up for debate, but either way she’s nowhere near bin Laden, they just want the association to stick so nobody can defend her actions without defending bin Laden’s (”see, this is what happens when socialism and radical feminism are left unchecked,” they say). She can’t control plants or hypnotize people, but she’s not just a hemp loving hippy, she’s a revolutionary who may or may not have worked with the Dorrance regime to promote anti-government movements throughout South and Central America.

Victor Fries: his wife Nora was diagnosed with early-onset McGreggor’s disease, a degenerative neurological disorder which is invariably fatal within 10 years. He has dedicated his life to finding a cure, but has recently come under federal investigation when a whistle blower revealed that he has been performing unethical medical experiments to test his research. Some media outlets campaign for him, others against him; he’s fighting for a good cause, but his results are invalid because the tests were performed under suspicious circumstances outside a controlled laboratory environment. He is at risk of losing his medical license, and his funding is being slashed as he is under review.

Edward Nygma: a local nobody, he suffers from antisocial personality disorder and OCD. When the Joker Killer rose to prominence, he was compelled to try and outdo him, inspired by his notes taunting Gotham police. Also like the Zodiac Killer, Nygma has resorted to cryptograms and ciphers, trying to prove his intelligence and his ability to evade detection. So far he has done a much better job than the joker, as he is still at large, with no known suspects. He can’t not commit crimes, he is drawn to them, he can’t stop himself no matter how hard he tries and he can’t afford medication to keep himself in check. He secretly hopes he’ll get sloppy one day and the cops will be able to trace him, but his superiority complex prevents him from doing anything that would be personally disadvantageous. He would benefit from therapy, should he ever find himself in Arkham State Psychiatric Hospital. He’s resentful of men like Harvey Dent who he thinks can just make their problems go away with money (he doesn’t realize that Dent has just as many problems as he does and that mental illness can effect anyone regardless of status)

Selina Kyle: she lives in the slums outside the city proper, the sprawling crime ridden suburban cesspool that is Upstate Gotham. She subsists as a petty thief, breaking and entering into super-rich apartment buildings and selling the goods to pay her bills. She’s not a bad person, she’s just in a bad situation, born into poverty in a country with no class mobility. She’s troubled, abused, and on the brink of homelessness at any given moment, she does what she needs to do to get by. She’s not a maser jewel thief, she doesn’t break into museums or banks, her scores have much lower stakes than that.

Jonathan Crane: a doctor at Arkham State, he was arrested and tried for criminal misconduct. He would regularly torture the patients, withholding basic necessities, making them live in filth, locking many of them up in solitary confinement for months on end to see how they would react. He wanted to prove that his patented “isolation therapy” was the most effective treatment for any number of mental illnesses (in reality, he was just a sadist who had authority over people and wanted to show it). He drove dozens of patients mad, making them question their own sanity by making them stay awake for long periods of time and playing audio recordings in their rooms which he denied he could hear. He played on their greatest fears, using information they gave to their therapists against them, and would then punish them if they stopped talking. He was sentenced to 5 years in prison, but was not labeled a flight risk because he was a celebrity (think Dr. Oz or Dr. Phil), and subsequently fled the country before he was to report to Black Gate.

Harleen Quinzel: also a doctor at Arkham State, her goal was to make as much money as possible by writing a tell-all book about one of the patients and charging exorbitant amounts of money for therapy sessions. She honed in on John Doe, the Joker Killer, because he was the biggest name in the hospital and had refused to talk to any doctors before her (he killed one and has seriously injured seven, but he already has multiple life sentences in a state without the death penalty, so they can’t get rid of him). They both think they are smarter than the other and can play them like a fiddle, Doe by pretending to be receptive to her, and Quinzel by treating him like he’s a victim of circumstance. Over the years, he ends up manipulating her, having her smuggle contraband for him which he eventually uses to escape, for which she is fired and arrested. No clown theme, no sexual relationship with her client, just your run of the mill criminal misconduct.

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Bad Girls Club (Branjie) Chapter 7 - Joley

ao3 link

“So, how have you been?”

It was the most innocuous question possible, but Brooke Lynn already felt like she was in an interrogation room – the kind where the only light came from a lamp that was being shone in her face. Her hands were clammy, and her gaze fixated on the table. The pounding in her chest coupled with a ringing in her ears and made it near impossible to think straight. “Good enough,” she answered with no idea if it was actually her voice.

Kameron gave a short nod of understanding. “Maybe not the best question to ask, all things considered,” she conceded. “But I couldn’t leave without catching up with you, and maybe a few other things…”

“I’m not having sex with you.”

She quirked her brow before laughing and shaking her head. “No, no, that ship has sailed. I’m much more interested in whatever’s going on between you and that little firecracker you were staring at the whole time. This is new for you and I’m intrigued.”

Brooke flushed a deep red, swallowing thickly and clearing her throat. “Why are you so interested in my love life? I figured you of all people would be the last to want to meddle.” In this camp alone, she could think of at least three more obvious suspects for that sort of thing.

Kameron shrugged. “My shift ended, and I have an hour to kill, might as well make you squirm. Besides, I meant it when I said you and I are cool – just because you’re used to everyone lying and being passive aggressive doesn’t mean I’m looped into that.”

And she had a point – realizing that some people actually do mean what they say was an important life lesson Brooke Lynn had been taking away from her time here. It had been jarring at first, how blunt everyone could be, but she had come to appreciate the fact that, nine times out of ten, she knew exactly what she was getting into with someone. Sure, growing up in an emotionally repressed environment made her more intuitive, but at the cost of constantly questioning where she actually stood with people. “So, what, you’re gonna mediate some sort of therapy session between us?”

“Oh, good idea!”

“Wait, no—” But she was already being dragged across the dining hall.

Then Kameron got a hold of Vanessa’s wrist with her free hand and suddenly they were both being escorted outside without anyone around them giving it a second thought. This allowed her to take the girls outside, sitting in a patch of grass. “Okay, ladies! Couples’ therapy is in session.”

“Couples?” Both girls questioned in unison.

“Situationship therapy isn’t as catchy, work with me,” she rolled her eyes. “Now, tell Dr. Michaels what the trouble is.”

“Hey, I wanna see your medical license!” Vanessa could feel Kameron’s glare burning a hole into the side of her head, and – despite the fact it did make Brooke laugh – she gave in. “Fine, fine,” she sighed dramatically. “I took it personally when Brooke Lynn said she wanted to forget this place and go back to her normal life because it felt like I don’t mean nothing to her. Can I go now?”

“That’s not how therapy works. Sit,” Kameron reprimanded and watched Vanessa sit with crossed arms and furrowed brows, finding her defiant pout almost amusing.

Brooke Lynn, on the other hand, was far less amused. “That’s what this was about? My family life is strained to the breaking point, my future has been dangling in the balance, I have no fucking idea what sort of hell on earth I could be facing when I go back to school, and you made all of that about yourself?” She was seething, vitriol shooting off every word. It was hard to avoid tripping over herself as she scrambled to her feet. “This is beyond playing Dr. Phil, Kameron. This is… I don’t know what the fuck this is, other than fucking insane.” Turning on her heel, she all but sprinted off.

Vanessa was quick on her feet despite the sudden panic that sunk her heart into the pit of her stomach. “Brooke! Brooke Lynn, wait! Let me explain!” she shouted, running as fast as her short legs would carry her across the wide expanse of grass.

Even though Kameron suddenly found herself left in the dust, she was unfazed. She nodded observantly, brows knitting together. “Guess ‘marriage counselor’ is off the potential career list,” she decided, brushing herself off and returning to the dining hall. The other girls from her group had asked about her disappearance with marginal interest but accepted ‘just needed some air’ at face value.

Meanwhile, Brooke Lynn had made it nearly a quarter mile down the camp’s nature trail before Vanessa caught up to her. Sure, she could have pushed it further, but despite her fury, she knew she couldn’t outrun the inevitable confrontation forever. They did still share a room, after all – and it was way too far into the summer to try to change that. She whirled around, making the other girl skid to a halt, dirt kicking up at her heels. “Fine. Talk,” Brooke snapped.

There was a brief moment where Vanessa forgot all she had to say, but as soon as she began, the words flowed out. “Look, I know I always be walkin’ around like I’m the shit and all that. And I don’t really suffer from no low self-esteem or whatever, but I know I’m not smart, I know I probably won’t ever amount to nothing. So when someone like you, someone so fucking far out of my league… when whatever we had started… I don’t know, I felt special.” She looked away and sniffled, a wave of humiliation hitting her as she forced herself to come to terms with what had been building up inside of her over the past few weeks. “Then you started talking about going home and it was the reality check I was afraid of. Guess I was mad at you ‘cause I was mad at myself or something.”

Brooke Lynn didn’t know what she was expecting Vanessa to say – she had learned early on in their relationship that anticipating anything that came out of her mouth was essentially impossible – but that confession had caught her completely off guard. There was an emotional self-awareness that blew her away. She was sure A’keria had helped her get there, but that didn’t lessen how impressed she was. But at the same time, her heart broke for her – those insecurities were real and raw and spoke volumes about who Vanessa was. Yes, she was still frustrated, but it was hard to stay angry at her, leaving her quiet as she took it all in.

“You probably hate me now, huh?”

The brokenness in Vanessa’s voice hit her again. Brooke shook her head, shoving her hands into the pockets of her shorts. “I could never hate you. I just don’t have it in me.” She exhaled deeply, looking up at the bright, sunny sky. It almost mocked them with how perfectly cheery it was, like the sun had no right to shine that bright when their hearts felt so dark and heavy. “And for what it’s worth, you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit. You are the very definition of special, Vanessa.” There was a brief pause before she followed up with, “I meant that as a compliment, not shade.”

Vanessa managed a soft laugh, pushing the hair out of her eyes, even if her gaze was fixed squarely on the ground. “I know what you meant,” she assured and let out a deep sigh. When her mom would say that sort of thing to her, she could never fully shake the sense that there was a hint of obligation – your mom has to tell you you’re special, right? But when Brooke said it, it felt real and made her feel special. “So, where we at now?”

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Brooke Lynn hesitated, chewing on her lip. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Meet me at the lake after dinner, we’ll see how we feel then.” The lake had grown to have a sentimental meaning for them – if there were any spot to determine their fate, that had to be it.

“We’ll see how we feel,” Vanessa echoed and turned to make the walk back to the dining hall. It felt like such a long trek when she wasn’t chasing after someone.

“It kind of sounds like you’ve got your course of action figured out,” Nina mused observantly. “What are you looking for me to tell you, exactly?”

Brooke shrugged, tugging at the strings hanging off the frayed ends of her denim shorts. “I just wish I knew how to figure out what I feel. I’m used to everything being clear cut. Vanessa is just… She’s so… I’ve never met anyone like her before. And no one has ever made me feel like this before.”

Her teacher let out a good-natured laugh and shook her head. “I swear, it’s like you forget that you’re seventeen. You’re experiencing a lot of firsts, that’s what being a teenager is all about. I think meeting someone like Vanessa is good for you, and no matter what your relationship ends up being, I think you’ll have grown for it.”

“That doesn’t make this any easier.” She kicked her legs and whined. “This is tonight, I need to bring an answer or I’m gonna look like an asshole.”

“You’re overthinking things again, Brooke,” Nina gently pointed out. “All you need to do is speak from the heart and the rest will follow.” At the end of the day, she knew the teen wanted an impossible solution that wrapped up her story in a neat bow. While she was flattered by her unwavering faith, she just couldn’t seem to drive home the reality of the situation.

Brooke rolled her eyes dramatically and laid back on the desk. “God, that’s so lame. Does Monét like that sort of cheesy shit?” Deflecting to their relationship seemed to be a go-to for both herself and Vanessa when they didn’t want to be faced with the reality of their circumstances.

It was most likely due to the fact that it always garnered the same reaction – the teachers would recoil and blush. They would stammer and lose their train of thought and give the flustered teens a moment to recuperate.

Unfortunately for Brooke, Nina seemed unfazed this time around. In fact, she smirked. “Actually, she does,” she grinned. “And do you know why I know that? Because we talk and communicate our feelings like human beings. You should try it.”

“You didn’t have to come for me like that,” Brooke mumbled. Nina must have picked that up from Monét, she thought and momentarily regretted her matchmaking decision.

A’keria looked at Vanessa with pursed lips and furrowed brows. She pensively cocked her head to the side, and it took much longer than her friend would have liked before she started talking. “You’re a hot fucking mess, you know that, right? You both are.”

“Maybe so.” Vanessa clicked her tongue. “But that doesn’t answer my question, bitch. What the fuck am I s’posed to do at the lake?”

The eyeroll she received in response wasn’t helpful, but it wasn’t unexpected either. “Have you ever solved a romantic problem by yourself? When you gonna realize that there ain’t no one that can tell you how to feel about Brooke Lynn. That’s between you and her.”

Vanessa pouted and crossed her arms, actively looking down and away from her. “Look, you know damn well I ain’t never gonna meet another girl like her… Maybe that’s for the best. But I don’t wanna fuck this shit up. I’ll never forgive myself if I do.”

A’keria sighed, her expression softening. She wrapped her arm around the smaller girl and squeezed her shoulder. “Vanjie, even if it is the worst-case scenario – you guys don’t work out and don’t see each other again – life goes on. Your heart will heal, and you’ll find another girl worthy of all the love you’ve got to give and will welcome it with open arms.”

Deep in her heart, Vanessa knew there was truth in her friend’s words. She had healed her broken heart before, life had gone on. Even with that, however, she couldn’t let go of the idea that this would be her ‘one that got away,’ the ‘what if’ that she would look back on with a sense of longing when she was old and gray. But she didn’t have the words to convey that sense of fear. “I guess so.”

It wasn’t an especially convincing statement, but A’keria knew when to stop pushing. She gave her a hug from the side before letting go and standing up. “Come on, let’s get a snack or something. Can’t have romantic revelations on an empty stomach, right?”

The lake was as serene as ever when Vanessa and Brooke Lynn approached it. Crickets were chirping, the water was still, the full moon illuminated the picturesque scene. It was just the neutral environment that they needed for this conversation.

They sat down cross-legged and faced each other. It took what felt like ages (but in reality, was less than a minute) before either of them spoke, but Vanessa was the one to break the silence.

“I thought I’d know what to say when I got here, but I still don’t know shit,” she confessed. “All I know is I’m tired of fighting with you and worrying about everything I do. I don’t care if I’m not good enough for you – one of the first things you said to me was that we’re equal here.”

Brooke Lynn shook her head. “I don’t want you to think you not being good enough is the issue. I’m not better than you because of where I come from, or at all.” She reached out and took her hands. “Why don’t we just make the most of the time we have together?”

Vanessa didn’t need clarification when it came to that. She moved closer until she was sat on Brooke’s lap, her arms draped around her neck and their lips connecting in a tender kiss. That was all they needed, it seemed, for all their worries and fears to melt away.

Brooke’s arms wrapped around Vanessa’s waist and held her close as the kiss deepened. After a moment, she slipped her hand under her shirt, pushing it up inch by inch before she pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” she breathed out.

“And you not half bad yourself,” Vanessa smirked, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck, until her lips latched onto her pulse point and left a hickey in its wake. If the moan Brooke let out was any clue, that was the right spot, leading her to pay extra attention to the dark, purple mark that was forming, only breaking contact to take her shirt off as well.

They didn’t talk much after that – instead, there was an eager, haphazard mess of limbs as they tried to undress each other as quickly as they could manage, each article of clothing landing somewhere in the grass.

When they were naked, Vanessa pinned Brooke to the ground, a mischievous smirk on her lips. Normally, she would have submitted control to the blonde, but she wanted to channel everything she had been feeling over the past few days into the perfect, lustful expression. She trailed her lips down her body, not leaving an inch of skin untouched.

While Vanessa’s hand moved between Brooke Lynn’s thighs, her mouth moved to both of her breasts, massaging her nipples with her tongue and savoring the moans it elicited. She started with her hand by pressing her thumb to her clit, rubbing in small circles while she slowly kissed down to her lower abdomen.

“Turn around, baby. I wanna take care of you too,” Brooke insisted, and – despite Vanessa’s original plan – she had her hands bracing on her hips in a matter of seconds. She didn’t wait for her to start before she traced her tongue in a line down her slit before wiggling it inside.

“Fuck…” Vanessa exhaled softly, momentarily distracted before she gathered herself enough to reciprocate. She had a firm grip on Brooke’s thighs, fingernails digging into her flesh as she licked and sucked on her clit with a fervor that was reserved exclusively for her.

Vanessa’s skill and enthusiasm had a clear effect on Brooke Lynn. Her body twitched and trembled under her touch, causing her own ministrations to be erratic and fierce. She was the first to come, too, moaning out despite how stifled it was.

Even though she couldn’t hear it clearly, Vanessa knew when she had gotten Brooke off, paying extra attention to work her through her orgasm. It wasn’t until she was certain she was spent before she shifted to just riding her face, clasping her hand over her mouth in a vain attempt at keeping quiet – the last thing they needed was to wake up an adult.

Brooke was able to focus all of her attention on eating Vanessa out as soon as she was able to move her body as she needed to, her hands roaming the expanse of her thighs and torso while she refused to come up for air.

“O-Oh god, fuck, fuck, Brooke!” Staying quiet proved to be too difficult of a task when Vanessa approached her climax. She bit down on her lip, whimpering and whining as she rode it out.

When Vanessa had calmed down from her orgasmic high, Brooke scooped her up in her arms and held her close. They lay in relative silence – their breathing still audibly heavy – and basked in the warmth of each other’s bodies.

Maybe this did clear the fog of confused emotions that had incessantly followed them, or maybe it threw a wrench into things. All either of them knew was that there was nowhere in the world they’d rather be than in each other’s arms.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #teen au #bad girls club #joley

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ear-worthy · 1 year

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Where Should We Begin? Podcast Goes From Spotify To Vox

The football world is buzzing with rumors of a trade with NFL quarterback great Aaron Rodgers of the Green Bay Packers to the New York Jets. In the podcasting world, a trade of major value was just consummated this week.

Vox Media announced a strategic partnership with Esther Perel that will bring the acclaimed psychotherapist and bestselling author’s hit podcast, Where Should We Begin?, to the Vox Media Podcast Network.

Since it launched in 2017, the show has established a loyal audience of millions and frequently ranks among the top shows in trending podcast charts. Each episode features real, anonymous pairs in one-time therapy sessions, providing listeners with an intimate, personal, and complex take on modern relationships — both at home and at work. The show joins Vox Media from Spotify, which was its home for the last three years.

Now, media psychology experts like Dr. Phil and Dr. Drew have tarnished the profession of media psychologist, but thankfully Esther Perel continues to redeem the profession. Unlike some media psychologists, Perel does not exploit her guests but listens carefully and acts like more of a counselor than an external, judge-y conscience like Dr. Phil.

Starting this summer, Where Should We Begin? will ramp up to a weekly, always-on show and cover a wide spectrum of modern relationships ranging from couples to friends to work colleagues, and Vox Media will take on sales, marketing, and distribution responsibilities. Magnificent Noise, a boutique podcast production company, will continue to produce the podcast, and special bonus content will be available for subscribers via a partnership with Apple Podcasts. Vox Media will also work with Perel to explore potential editorial collaborations with New York Magazine and The Cut, as well as creative collaborations, such as live events. “When I started Where Should We Begin?, I opened up the four walls of my office for the very first time and began a global public health campaign, specifically for relationships,” says Perel. “As the podcast has grown, we’ve eagerly sought creative partners to help us bring the podcast to even broader audiences. We’re beyond excited to begin working with Vox Media to bring new episodes to listeners every week – and perhaps a few surprises outside the feed too.” "Esther brings a unique combination of talents to the podcast space: she informs us, entertains us, answers big questions that we've all had on our minds, and helps her listeners improve the relationships in their lives," says Ray Chao, Vox Media's SVP & General Manager of Audio and Digital Video. "She empowers us all to understand and navigate what it means to be human. We're beyond thrilled to bring Esther's influential voice to the Vox Media Podcast Network." As I said, Perel is recognized as one of today’s most insightful and original voices on modern relationships. Fluent in nine languages, she helms a therapy practice in New York City (note that the voices featured in the podcast are from one-time sessions and not Perel’s ongoing patients). Perel also serves as an organizational consultant for Fortune 500 companies around the world. Her celebrated TED Talks have garnered more than 40 million views and her bestselling books, Mating in Captivity and The State of Affairs, are global phenomena translated into more than 30 languages. Perel joins a roster of influential voices at the Vox Media Podcast Network that includes Kara Swisher (On with Kara Swisher; Pivot), Scott Galloway (The Prof G Pod; Pivot), Preet Bharara (Stay Tuned with Preet), Phoebe Judge (Criminal), Sean Rameswaram (Today, Explained), Noel King (Today, Explained), Sam Sanders (Into It), Nilay Patel (Decoder; The Vergecast), and more. Where Should We Begin? is out with a new episode featuring a couple torn apart by the war in Ukraine. Listen to the episode wherever you get your podcasts.

#podcast #psychology #business

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missjanjie · 5 years

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Branjie Fic | Bad Girls Club (7/8)

Title: Bad Girls Club Summary: Los Angeles’ new program, the Juvenile Female Rehabilitation Program (JFRP) was created with the purpose of taking at-risk girls in the county and send them to a summer-long program located where a sleepaway camp once stood. There, they will take classes in ethics, behavior, and other courses to help mold these young minds. Brooke Lynn and Vanessa have been sent there for wildly different reasons, but with the same result - a clean permanent record. Being roomed together, the pair might find an unlikely alliance (and maybe more) in each other. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter)/~19.2k (total) Relationship: Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo) Rating: E

Read on AO3

------

“So, how have you been?”

“I’m not having sex with you.”

“Oh, good idea!”

“Wait, no—” But she was already being dragged across the dining hall.

“Couples?” Both girls questioned in unison.

“Situationship therapy isn’t as catchy, work with me,” she rolled her eyes. “Now, tell Dr. Michaels what the trouble is.”

“That’s not how therapy works. Sit,” Kameron reprimanded and watched Vanessa sit with crossed arms and furrowed brows, finding her defiant pout almost amusing.

“You probably hate me now, huh?”

“We’ll see how we feel,” Vanessa echoed and turned to make the walk back to the dining hall. It felt like such a long trek when she wasn’t chasing after someone.

------

“It kind of sounds like you’ve got your course of action figured out,” Nina mused observantly. “What are you looking for me to tell you, exactly?”

“That doesn’t make this any easier.” She kicked her legs and whined. “This is tonight, I need to bring an answer or I’m gonna look like an asshole.”

“You didn’t have to come for me like that,” Brooke mumbled. Nina must have picked that up from Monét, she thought and momentarily regretted her matchmaking decision.

------

“Maybe so.” Vanessa clicked her tongue. “But that doesn’t answer my question, bitch. What the fuck am I s’posed to do at the lake?”

------

They sat down cross-legged and faced each other. It took what felt like ages (but in reality, was less than a minute) before either of them spoke, but Vanessa was the one to break the silence.

“O-Oh god, fuck, fuck, Brooke!” Staying quiet proved to be too difficult of a task when Vanessa approached her climax. She bit down on her lip, whimpering and whining as she rode it out.

#branjie #branjie fic #rpdr rpf

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writing-for-twilight · 5 years

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As Bella watched the evening sun peeking over the tip of the mountain she was grateful that Charlie had forced her to go to therapy rather than stay holed up in her room waiting for Edward to come back.

She had been so angry that she refused to speak to him for a week after her first therapy session.

But she couldn't be angry at him forever, he was her father after all and she loved him.

With each therapy session it became clear that her entire world did not to revolve around Edward Cullen and his family.

With that revelation it was as if she finally free to be herself. Her real self.

The real Bella Swan loved to go rock climbing. She was the best at indoor rock climbing back in Phoenix, sure she was still clumsy to a certain degree but rock climbing and going for a run helped her maintain her balance.

Not to mention although she did have a great love for literature and art, but her greatest love was in fact being able to explore the world, learning new things, exploring different cultures, the new life experiences waiting to be discovered.

It occurs to her for a moment that Alice would have seen this decision she made: to explore the world, go rock climbing (with emotional goodbyes from her mom, dad, Angela, Mike, and Jessica) but she finds that she doesn't care.

She's finding herself again and is very much enjoying this process.

With the revelation that she didn't have to stop living her life just because Edward and his family left also came the revelation that Alice, -who had said that they were best friends-, would have seen Edward's decision of breaking up with her and leaving her in the forest and did nothing to warn her about what her brother was going to do.

Not even a text.

With a sigh as she ran her fingers through her chestnut locks, she vaguely recalled her therapist Dr. Maggie Barns words to her as their therapy session came to an end, "Keep the people who truly love you close to you, Bella. Make sure they want what's really best for you. Don't be afraid to cut ties with them, if they don't."

As she backed away so she could see the sunset in full view, she dropped her backpack and began to rummage through it for her mobile phone so she could take a picture, and after taking the picture, a smile graced her features as she came across the letters in the backpack that everyone had written to keep her updated on things.

Jacob had gotten together with Leah Clearwater and apparently her ex and cousin of said girl weren't too happy about that. Harry Clearwater was recovering from his heart attack under the watchful eye of his wife, Sue Clearwater.

Angela was dating someone new, a pretty young woman named Tanya who was from alaska.

After tip toeing around each other Jessica and Mike finally got together.

Dad was doing good. He talked regularly with Billy Black and Harry Clearwater and claimed that the two men were constantly eating whatever he had in the fridge. They ate more than Jacob and his friends when they came over!

That made her chuckle a little.

That's what happens when you're a good cook, dad.

Mom and Phil were doing pretty good too. They had renewed their vows recently and couldn't wait to see her again.

As she read through each letter with a smile, she was glad for the moments like this.

#mod alex #twilight imagine #twilight fanfiction #twilight au #new moon au #bella swan #somewhat of a character study #i hope you guys like it #please tell me what you think #this was fun to write

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yahoo201027 · 5 years

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Asta, not the best time to go all Shonen Talk no Jutsu, Dr. Phil therapy session with the enemy. They’re never gonna listen.

#Black Clover #Black Clover 59 #Toonami #live blogging #Blog All The Time

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glitterrhowell · 6 years

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Chapter 26

Title: Seized

Co-author: fadingcrystalvoid

Pairing: Daniel Howell & AmazingPhil (Phan

Word count: 1.2k

Warning/Genre: Rape/extreme violence/ depression/PTSD/Degradation/torture/ Non-consensual pretty much everything/Little!Dan/Daddy!Phil/Kidnapping

Summary: It started out as a fun day at the park but it ended in terror. Phil takes his little Dan to the park and while Phil is not looking, Dan suddenly gets kidnapped. What will happen to Dan? Will Phil ever see his boyfriend again? Did Phil have something to do with it? Heavy trigger warning

Read on Ao3

Read on Wattpad

Previous chapter / Next Chapter

A huge thank you to my beta Alyssa (phan-of-the_pen) for putting up with my sloppy messy writing and helping me turn it into something readable

When Phil was transferred into the prison, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The walls were grey, the floor was grey, the ceiling was grey. Grey grey grey. The most colour was probably either the poorly-kept grass in the yard, or the bluey-green of the tap and shower water. In all honesty, it was a heinous sight, and Phil didn’t blame those who tried to escape.

“In ya get,” the guard snapped, pushing Phil forward into the small room. “Hands,” he ordered. Phil slipped his hands through the gap in the door and felt his wrists be freed. “Roomie’s probably in the yard. Jus’ follow everyone else, mate, you’ll work ‘t ou’,” he said, giving the most advice he had since Phil had met the angry looking man.

Phil looked around the small cell, subconsciously rubbing his wrists where the metal had dug in a little. There was a functioning toilet in the corner so that was nice; he’d been expecting to shit in a bucket and have to deal with the smell of feces coming from the rooms in his block. The sight of a functional - yet disgustingly grimy - toilet calmed some of Phil’s fears. There were two metal slabs held up by chains, each having a thin mattress and lumpy pillow.

“Mate, get the fuck off my bed,” someone shouted, causing Phil to flinch and quickly stand. His roommate.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t realise,”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise,” the tattoo-covered man retorted back, voice much higher in a demeaning tone. “God you aren’t going to survive one week in this place. Toughen up mate, unless you wanna get beaten senseless.”

“O- Okay, what do we have now?” he asked, not really sure how prisons worked. He wasn’t meant to be here, he shouldn’t need to know how they work.

“Listen here little fishy, ya can’t just go aroun’ asking all the questions ya like. You’ll get yourself killed. Keep ya head low, and listen to the guards. Don’t piss ‘em off, you’ll regret it. Lights out start at 11 and wake up’s at 5. We can shower for an hour, then have lock up. Roll call happens during lock up. Then yard for two hours and breakfast for another two. We work for four hours if you’re lucky enough to have a job, then yard for another two, and free time for two before and after dinner which is also two hours. Any questions?”

“Uh, when’s lunch?”

The man laughed. “You think the shits here care enough to give us lunch. Fishy, you really ain’t gonna make it too long in here. Oh, and a piece of advice, don’t drop the soap, I’ll let you guess what’ll happen, and also enroll in as many programs as possible. It makes ya look good for parole. Ya getting parole?”

“Yeah, fifteen years.”

“Shit, how long you in here for mate?”

“Forty years. It sucks ‘cause I didn’t even do what they accused me of.”

“And what is that?”

“They think I kidnapped my- uh- girlfriend and abused her with the help of another two guys.”

“Shit that’s- shit.”

“What are you here for?”

At this, the man grinned. “Voyeurism. Turns out having your dom spank you in public is against some sort of protocol. I’m only in for a little bit, maybe a month or two more. Anyway, name’s Boston, what do they call ya?”

“Phil,” he answered, choosing to lean against the wall instead of taking a seat on the green and yellow stained toilet.

The man slumped on his bed, laying a hand over his face to shield his eyes from the harsh light sun. Hey, at least they had a window, right? “Work time now, fishies like you get frees.”

“Sorry, why do you keep calling me a fish?”

The man tilted his head up, eyebrows raised as he stared at Phil with a look of ‘how fucking dumb are you?’ “Fresh meat, newbie, never been to prison before equals fish. Simple logic.” The man rolled over, facing the concrete wall.

“Kate! Can I speak with you a moment?” Lela called, stepping over to said person as she sat on the couch.

“Of course.” Kate closed her novel, putting on the table beside the couch and standing. “Where to?”

“My office.” Kate followed Lela to the room down the corridor, doctors’ offices lining the walls on either side.

“What did you want to speak to me about?” she asked, taking a seat. Lela wasn’t her doctor, she’d worked best with Dr Noble, but she’d heard that she was amazing at her job.

“I just wanted to see how you're holding up. I know I’m not your doctor but I am Dan’s and you are a big part of his life. I know he can be a handful and I know how exhausting he can be; I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“Yeah, I’m doing alright. Dr Noble and I are working on my coping methods since their pretty shit at the moment. How’s Dan?”

“Well, we aren’t supposed to discuss other patient’s treatments without their consent but I’ll tell you as a friend, not as a colleague of your doctor. He’s doing as well as he can be. I’ve been working on getting him to remember at the moment; he doesn’t enjoy it but it’s necessary.”

Kate nodded in understanding.

“Listen, I’ve got to get to my private therapy session now so I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with Dan.”

Lela checked in with Eric too, only to find out he’d been hiding his lack of eating from the nurses. The boy had fainted in his seat and Lela had lifted his shirt to check his heart only to find skin and bones beneath. She called a nurse to take him back to his room and went to find his doctor. He could decide from there what to do.

“Hi mummy,” Dan said, stepping into her office.

“Hello, Dan. How are you doing today?”

“Good! Pooh Bear’s good too!”

“That’s good,” she smiled, watching Dan take a seat on the mat and pull the lego from its box.

“Now Danny, do you remember what we’ve been doing in these sessions?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, eyes downcast as if he expected to get in trouble. “But I don’ wanna mummy! I don’ like it!” Dan cried, grabbing the stuffy resting next to him to cuddle it to his chest.

“I know, Dan, but it’s necessary,” she tried, holding her hands up in a calming motion.

“No! I don’ wanna!” Dan shouted, getting up off the floor and fleeing from the room. Lela let him go, but in two hours she’d regret doing so. Eric and Kate would come into her office, worry etched on both their faces.

“He’s missing,” Kate will say, and Lela didn’t need any more information to know who they were talking about.

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