#Licence to Practice

[andi-o-geyser]

on my anti dr. jacob agenda sooo hard you don't even know. like the level of just how unprofessional, unethical, and fucking infuriating his choices are is putting me into so much of a rage i can no longer maintain my danny rojas level of live laugh love in this economy. bastard. bastard man. my worst enemy. im calling the kansas college of registered psychotherapy and regulatory board of ethics on him don't test me

[edwardseymour]

"Given the marathon that Jane’s uterus had just been through, it’s likely that her uterus would have a reduced capacity to contract and effectively expel the after-birth contents of her uterus; lengthy labours tend to shred the membranes, especially if, like Jane, her membranes had ruptured early in her labour. I believe that here is where the best intentions again contributed to disastrous consequences. Wanting to ensure the best possible outcome, Henry bucked confinement tradition by inviting male physicians into Jane’s lying-in chamber. While we might see a physician’s help as a good thing, please keep in mind that Tudor era physicians weren’t trained in obstetrics. Had Jane’s immediate postpartum been similar to the above description, a physician would likely not have been well-versed in how to manage it. Had the midwives noticed retained tissue, they probably would have known to remove the offending product, manually if necessary, causing Jane further discomfort. To a Tudor physician, this would have been appalling, and protocol dictated that the physicians had seniority. Had they forbade an intervention, it would not have occurred."

— Dayna Goodchild, Jane Seymour and the Birth of Edward VI: A Midwife's Opinion

[abba-enthusiast]

Got my permanent driver’s licence after the three year probation period without having driven a single time in those three years hell yeahhhhh

[mwagneto]

getting my driving licence tomorrow.. 😐

[xythlia]

.

[grantyort]

Hoshino: I'm a real lawyer and I demand to be taken seriously!

Also Hoshino: *wears his backpack on a mission like he's on a school trip*

[the-other-jugs]

AnXiEtY

[evilpenguinrika]

commemorated me getting mom and I back home in one piece by eating poutine and some kimchi fried rice and also blueberries

[ichoosemecounseling]

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[vancilocs]

i think i narrowed down danas job as a legal secretary, so what he does is helping lawyers around by pushing papers like appeals n motions, drafts things like wills and divorce papers, deals with correspondence and does legal research to help with cases

[andi-o-geyser]

Continuing my Dr Jacob rants, I wanted to mention how... off I've been feeling with how the rest of the characters have been treating the whole situation regarding him dating Michelle. It's so far been exclusively framed as a marital issue that Ted has to work through, and it's being massively downplayed by the people around him and the narrative itself? I feel as if it's being equated to simply struggling with watching an ex move on, which is SO not what is happening here. This is a deeply unethical and damaging relationship to everybody else being pulled into Michelle and Dr. Jacob's absolute fucking nonsense, and I know I've brought this up before, but this is the type of shit you get your license taken away for. Having a relationship with a patient, former or not, is such a full stop unethical crossing of every boundary meant to exist between a patient and therapist that I couldn't explain just how much of a no it is if I had 15 hours uninterrupted and a megaphone.

At least where I live, the college of registered psychotherapy has a half a decade minimum legal time frame that must be elapsed to have a relationship with a patient, but honestly that's just technicalities. Therapists should, under NO CIRCUMSTANCE, have any kind of duel relationship with a current or former patient. Therapy is meant to make a connection to help you work through your problems, but it's not for making a friend and it's certainly not for meeting a partner. And for a therapist to abuse that power and, in this situation, maybe even coerce a patient out of their marriage so they can date them (because come on, that's exactly what fucking happened given the facts), is beyond deplorable. I don't give a fuck if Dr. Jacob gives nice guy energy, he's a professional (unprofessional as he may be) who knows exactly what he did, and he's a piece of shit for it.

I know this is TV, and the way therapists act in media is so sensationalized and dramatized, but considering Ted Lasso is "the show about having good mental health" and understanding and unpacking trauma and issues, the lacklustre reaction from characters regarding the relationship between Ted's ex wife and her (and Ted's!!) therapist are just bizzare. I need at least somebody in-universe to acknowledge how baffling the behaviour is, and I really can't deal with the idea of Ted being left out to dry in this situation. This isn't some simple "my ex is moving on and that's tough for me but I need to accept it" situation, this is a borderline traumatic betrayal of trust Ted is going through, and the thought of it being left unaddressed while Ted has to make nice with Dr. Jacob because "Well, I really need to not make a fuss because he makes Michelle happy and he's Henry's new father figure now!" is soooo fucking awful I honestly can't even think about it. Anyways don't date your therapist this has been my PSA

[melodylife]

German Driving License

The German Driving License is a crucial document for anyone who wishes to operate a motorized vehicle in Germany. With this license, you can legally drive cars, motorcycles, trucks, and other vehicles. However, it’s important to note that there are some restrictions when it comes to commercial vehicles.

[armerstech]

Top 10 Facts of RTO Exam test practice

The RTO exam test practice is an essential step for individuals looking to obtain a driving license in India.

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This ensures that aspiring drivers are well-prepared to handle various real-life situations on the road.

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Each state has its own set of rules and regulations, and therefore, the RTO exam test practice may vary in terms of the number of questions, the duration of the exam, and the specific topics covered.

7. For example, in some states, the exam may focus more on road signs and traffic rules, while in others, it may emphasize more on driving techniques and vehicle maintenance.

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[mousegirlheart]

when i first started trying to transition as a teen i saw a psychiatrist who told me that being transgender was letting my mother down and disappointing her and that i need to stop. then i found out my mum saw him 15 years prior about realising she was a lesbian and the psychiatrist told her she was letting her mother down and disappointing her and that she needs to stop.

he ended up closing down his practice shortly after. it's a yoga studio now. he doesn't have a psychiatric licence anymore. bye lol

[reiderwriter]

505

Week Four of my yearly playlist challenge!

Summary: When you fall asleep on the overnight drive between one case and the next, Spencer gets awfully distracted by your sleep talking.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Partial Spencer POV, dom!Spencer, brat!Reader, pain play (scratching, choking, spanking, etc), degradation (use of whore, slut), masturbation (m and f), orgasm denial, breeding kink, creampie, cockwarming.

A/N; Thank you to the Arctic Monkeys for fuelling my delusions and for gif makers everywhere for their services to horniness. This was the first playlist fic chosen from a recommended song, so if you enjoyed it, don't forget to send me more song recommendations for the playlist!~

Masterlist || Playlist

Spencer was never the most confident driver in the BAU, but between the two of you, he was the only one who possessed a licence. 

Which is how he found himself driving through the night with you asleep in his passenger seat, trying not to be distracted by the small whimpers and sighs dropping from your mouth. 

You'd been sent across state lines to investigate a recent homicide that may have been linked with your current case, and now that you'd deemed it relevant to your case, you were driving back to the rest of the team with all the documents you needed in tow. 

He'd been happy to drive when you left, with the sky black and the air cold, knowing that the country roads that would lead you just over the border would be practically empty. He'd even been content to let you sleep the majority of the journey, having noticed how little sleep you'd managed to get so far on this case. 

He'd been happy until your lips parted and you'd whispered his name in a moan. 

He'd thought you were awake at that moment and assumed you were about to ask where you were or what time it was. But you hadn't opened your eyes, and your breaths were still even and steady. 

You did it again five minutes later, and the gentle sound hit the hairs on the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine that settled comfortably in his now tight pants. 

‘Shit,’ he thought, sparing a glance at you whilst keeping his hands comfortable at 10 and 2, his posture rigid as he willed other parts of his body to relax. 

Your legs had splayed open, your hand having fallen unconsciously between them for some kind of relief. He didn't let his thoughts linger where his eyes had fallen. 

He tried to convince himself that you were just dreaming about a case. Maybe he'd been shot in your dream, and you'd felt sad. Maybe your moans were ones of sorrow. 

“Spencer, fuck…”

Maybe he was going to hell for the thoughts flooding his brain because he wanted nothing more than to slide a hand into your pants and start giving you the relief you so blatantly begged for. 

He settled for turning into the next motel he saw advertised on the road. Hotch had told them, of course, that they could rest up for the night if needed, but he'd been too eager to get on the road while it was clear. But with his mind fogged with less than ideal thoughts, and your obviously aching body moaning beside him, a motel honestly couldn't hurt. 

You woke up slowly as he parked the car, the lack of motion wearily drawing you from your dream. He looked across at you and let out a sigh of relief to see you conscious. 

He'd been willing to carry you to whatever room you'd get, but he didn't know whether his hands would linger over your body. Wouldn't know if he'd be able to retract his hands at all if you reacted like that in your sleep. 

Now you were awake and looking at him, talking to him even, but all he could think about was whether you'd react better to his touch when awake. How could he get you to moan his name again, and how loud would you dare do it?

“Spence? Hello, are you listening?”

“What?” 

“Okay, I'm glad you pulled off the road if you're so tired you're not even hearing me speak,” you laughed a little, and the sound shot straight to his cock. 

Your voice was thick with sleep, and the phantom of his name hung on your lips, having been the last words to drop from your tongue. He usually had better control of himself. 

“Yeah, let's go get some sleep. You sounded pretty tired, too.” 

“Sounded?” You asked, and he watched your face warp in gentle confusion. He bit his tongue, trying to retract the statement, choosing the cold, biting winter air over the sight of you with a pout on your lips. 

His brain was addled with thoughts of those two plump cushions pouting around his cock as he held your hair back and- and yes, the cold air was definitely necessary. 

“You stretch your legs, I'll go organise the room,” you said, climbing out of your side of the car. He nodded along, not trusting his voice not to break like a prepubescent boy and turning his back to you, not trusting his eyes to linger awkwardly on your ass. 

It seemed like seconds, and then you were back leading him to the rooms you'd booked. 

When you unlocked only one door, with only one key, however, Spencer found all the progress of the last few minutes squashed immediately. 

“We're sharing?” He hung around the door, not sure whether to step inside or just resign himself to sleeping in the car. He made a mental note to grab some tissues before heading back out to the car if this conversation ended the way he thought it would. 

“Yeah, they only had one room cleaned and ready right now. It's fine, right? We've shared rooms on cases before.” 

You’d shared rooms on cases before, but never after he'd driven for nearly a half hour listening to you moan his name. He'd usually been too exhausted after full days of work and had regrettably fallen asleep first each time you'd been roommates. 

“Yeah, it's cool.” He cleared his throat, trying to make the octave jump his voice had just made it seem like a symptom of some kind of sickness he was coming down with. 

“Great, let me just go shower quickly, and then we can get into bed.” 

Warnings signals rang throughout his head, but he still sat patiently listening to the water running in the shitty motel bathroom. Grabbing his go bag, he readied himself for sleep, trying to ignore the fact that you were hot and wet and naked just a wall away and that he could hear everything. 

Every sigh you released, every trickle of water running across your skin. Every mumble of his name. 

Again, he thought he'd imagined it, but now he was sure you were torturing him. 

Your gasps of air were less innocent than they were four minutes ago, chest having faster and faster, and he thought it was clear that your hand covered your mouth to make you less audible. He didn't know what you were doing, but it didn't matter much to his cock, which had stiffened painfully once again. Unconsciously, his hand reached for it, needing to give himself some release. He'd already pulled off his slacks and put on his baggier sleep pants, which did nothing to hide his affliction. 

Instead, it was somehow more obvious, painfully so. And his hand was pawing at it through the thin material, chasing that high that you yourself were likely close to in the bathroom. 

It was only when the shower shut off once more that he realised how fogged his brain had been. His cock throbbed in his hand, and it certainly wasn't going down anytime soon, and you'd be out of the bathroom in minutes if not seconds. 

With no other choice, he dived under the bed sheets and pulled them up across his chest, too, and began to pretend to sleep. 

When the light spilt from the bathroom, he screwed his eyes shut tighter, even as his brain willed him to sneak a look at you. 

But he held firm, telling himself that he just needed to wait for you to fall asleep and then he'd relieve himself. 

At least those were his plans until he felt the dip in the bed, the movement of his sheets, and the warmth spreading across the bed from you to him. 

You'd climbed into bed right next to him. Your ass was mere centimetres away from his crotch, and he shuddered in pleasure. Shuddered. 

He tried to keep his breathing still, even, and he really thought after a few minutes that you too had fallen asleep. It was all but impossible as your body cuddled in closer to his and he found your ass pressed comfortably against his straining cock. 

“Y/N, you need to move,” he warned, breath shooting out of him as he resisted digging his hands into your breasts and holding you tight so you couldn't move. 

“I don't want to,” you replied sleepily, either not noticing the danger you were in or not caring. 

His hands rested on your hips, trying to press you just slightly away so his own hips could scoot back, but you clung to his heat. 

“It's cold in here, Spencer, and you're like a furnace right now.” With those pouty words, you turned your body around and wrapped your hips up and around his body. He scooted back as you did, though, just an inch too far, and instead of landing softly against his chest, the two of you landed in a tangled mess on the floor. 

“Spencer,” you moaned again, this time in shock, as you perhaps finally felt his aching length poking the inside of your thigh. 

He'd dampened your fall on the way down, clasping you to him as he flailed in the air for a few seconds, bringing his downfall on faster with your ass cupped in his palms. 

“Fuck, Spencer, you're so hard.” His dick twitched at the sound of your tired voice pressed against his ear. 

You pulled away slowly, head peeking down between you, trying to catch a glimpse of his still hardening cock between the two of you. 

“Don't look, it'll get harder,” he grunted, grasping your hips harder and trying to catch your attention again. But that just had you grinding down into his hips again, and your mouth widened in that perfect ‘o’ as you felt the desperation and need drip from him. 

“Spencer,” you said, hips reacting slowly at first as they kept up the small movements of pressing down on him and lifting your hips slightly to do so again. 

You were grinding your cunt into his hard cock, pinning him to the ground and using his body to get yourself off. 

It was the most deliriously arousing thing he'd ever born witness to. 

“Y/N, stop it before you regret it.” His tone was a warning, but his words came out at barely a whisper. You didn't even bother with a reply. 

“Y/N, please I mean it-” 

“Spencer, fuck-” you moaned for the last time before he pushed you to the ground and pressed his lips against yours. 

He'd hit his limit, and now he was going to reach his reward. 

He ran his hands up to the waistband of your sleep shorts and quickly tugged them down, lips not leaving yours as he forced his tongue into your mouth. Your moans were throaty now, and they were loud, your brain so delirious with just you'd completely bypassed any shy feelings. 

After making quick work of your pants, he grabbed your hand in his and moved it over his throbbing cock, showing you what it was you needed from him. 

“Stroke it.” 

You did. Sliding a hand into his pants, you gripped him firmly in your hand and gently ran your fingers up and down his tip, more teasing than anything solid. 

Spencer didn't complain, though, knowing he wouldn't last that long if you took your job as seriously as he was about to take his. 

“Spread your legs. Now.” 

You weren't sure what it was about his tone, but you complied easily. His fingers reached out, and he almost sent up a prayer as his fingers came into contact with your wet, heat. You were so aroused. 

“Did you dream about me? Earlier in the car?” He questioned, two fingers slipping easily inside your pussy as his thumb traced your clit.

“Y-Yes.” 

“Did you think about me in the shower?” 

“Spencer, I can expl-” 

“Answer me. Please.” 

“Yes.” 

“You were touching yourself thinking about me, knowing I could hear just how much of a slut you were through these walls. You wanted this, Y/N.” 

He increased his pace as your eyes clouded over, your already sleepy countenance looking decidedly more ready for release and rest. 

But he wasn't in a giving mood. 

“What an impolite little whore,” he whispered in your ear, withdrawing his hands completely and picking himself up from the floor. 

Your eyes shot open in confusion and pain as he sat himself on the edge of the bed. You watched his movements, saw him pull his still erect cock from his pants and begin stroking himself, and quickly organised your limps into a kneeling position by his feet. 

He watched you closely as you let your head fall onto his thigh, your eyes following each pump of his hand up and down, and up and down. 

“Spencer, please fuck me,” you pleaded with him, trying to resist the temptation to wrap your legs around his and hump his leg like a real bitch in heat. Though he'd probably greatly enjoy the view. 

“Why should I?” 

“Because if you don't, I'm going to sit here and finger myself until I pass out from exhaustion. And then I'm going to request a room with you on every other case this year and do it all over again.” 

“You're manipulative, you know that?” 

“I just know what I want, Spencer.” 

“Then come and take it.” 

Though he told you to come to him, it was his hand on your neck that guided you to your place in his lap. 

It was his hand on his cock that lined himself up with your cunt. It was his hips that snapped up into yours as he finally took you. 

But it was your lips that screamed his name as he fucked you roughly. 

Each thrust was most intense than the last, deeper, harder, faster.

You clawed at his hair, you bit his bottom lip when your mouths Mey again. You clawed your nails across his shoulders and back. 

He pressed you back into the mattress, and you wrapped your legs around him one more time, urging him to stay right there for the rest of the night. 

His hands found your breasts, and he grabbed them again, roughly.

It was finally too much, and, as he pinched down on your nipple hard to see that beautiful mix of pleasure and pain one more time, you came around his cock, heat spreading out of you in waves as your thighs twitched under the weight of sheathing him. 

“I'm going to cum, Y/N, I'm going to cum,” he dragged his teeth across your neck, whispering the words like a prayer. 

You couldn't reply, mouth so heavy with lust your tongue couldn't move if his wasn't forcing it. 

“I'm going to cum inside you,” he whispered again, his voice a growl of pleasure as your eyes shot open again. 

All you could do was moan his name as he painted your cunt white, pressing his entire weight down on you without a care in the world. 

You remained locked in that embrace for a long moment, your body tired and brain similarly diminished. Trusting him to take care of things, you let your eyes droop closed and let sleep consume you. 

Your last thought was on his weight still pressed into yours, and the fact that he was still yet to pull out of you and spill his well-placed seed.

[pranshucorpseed]

Understanding Good Manufacturing Practices (GMP) Certification: A Pillar of Pharmaceutical Excellence

Introduction: The pharmaceutical industry is entrusted with the critical responsibility of ensuring the quality, safety, and efficacy of medications. Good Manufacturing Practices (GMP) certification stands as a vital pillar in upholding pharmaceutical excellence. This mini blog aims to provide insights into the significance of GMP certification and its crucial role in maintaining the highest…