#What Mental Health Counselors Actually do

[samarpanhealths]

What Mental Health Counselors Actually do?

Mental health counselors are professionals who work with individuals, couples, families, and groups to help them manage and overcome a wide range of mental health issues. These counselors typically have advanced degrees in counseling, psychology, social work, or a related field, and they are licensed to provide mental health services in their state or region.

The specific tasks that mental health counselors in Mumbai perform can vary depending on their area of specialization, but some of the common activities include:

Assessing clients' mental health needs and developing treatment plans to address them.

Providing individual and group counseling to help clients manage symptoms of mental illness, such as anxiety, depression, or post-traumatic stress disorder.

Teaching clients coping skills and strategies to manage stress, anxiety, and other emotional challenges.

Advocating for clients' needs and rights within healthcare systems and other institutions.

Referring clients to other healthcare providers or support services as needed, such as psychiatrists, support groups, or community resources.

Maintaining records and documentation of client progress and treatment plans.

Staying up-to-date on the latest research and trends in mental health treatment and counseling.

Mental health counselors may work in a variety of settings, including private practice, community health clinics, schools, hospitals, and government agencies. They may also specialize in working with specific populations, such as children, veterans, or people with substance abuse issues. Regardless of their specific focus, mental health counselors play an important role in helping people overcome mental health challenges and live fulfilling lives.

[swiftfootedachilles]

trevor saying "this is about you loving all the attention" ........uh. well yeah obviously...... did you miss the part where ian was abused and neglected growing up? do you expect him to hate the attention he got? i need you to be so fr trevor

[inky-goddess]

I don't know how much longer i can hold out going to only the trade school and not a normal school since not being anywhere in the morning makes my anxiety worse but my school distrcit doesnt care about the special ed students especially those who are "problems" like me so they're going super slow and havent even sent out the paperwork for me to be enrolled in the other school so now im very close to losing the only chance I have to do something with my life and actually have a career

[byanyan]

the more i think about byan being an art kid, the more i realize that some of their drawings definitely got them sent to see the school counselor on more than one occasion over the years.

[blossom-hwa]

.

[evestalk]

nicole is a sociopath is what a weirdo would say. doesn’t qualify with the fact what she did with jecka’s father is extremely out of character for her.

one of her main qualities is the fact she is able to manipulate men for her benefit. it’s the fact that she knows she’s attractive and young. she manipulates men for their own disgusting behaviour.

she doesn’t do it with any physical exchange: she does it all through verbal. look at jeffrey’s relationship with her. just glance at her relationships with her teachers! the whole choice of flirting with a cop to bypass stealing.

and she cares for jecka.

yes, she is a sociopath and through media, it’s portrayed as them being heartless freaks. constantly lying for their gain and stuff, but class of 2009 literally takes place in the late 2000s.

highly doubt mental health stuff was even… spoken about it like that. especially in a way for hurt and failed teenagers like nicole to care enough.

but, nicole cares so much for jecka. it’s actually so shocking. it’s literally said in the game with the asking if they’re queers, and into lesbians (koury) with each other. canonically, the only number she actually saved was jecka’s.

nicole abusing jeffery everyday so she can purposely distract the counselor, who was annoying jecka with the fact she can’t smoke, so jecka can smoke in the mornings. which was the nicest thing anyone’s done for jecka. (and anyone speaking). nicole is ruining her own school report (i don’t know the exact name) for jecka to be happy.

the fact that they spend enough time for jecka pick out the same phrases she says off camera is already saying enough for their relationship. “you say you’re a whore for everything!” like c’mon, no one says that with literal strangers and especially with classmates with theirs.

i don’t even see what kind of benefit would come from this. replace jecka with karen for example. like what would be rewarding for nicole? the fact she won’t be able to work in the sex field? highly doubt so. her mother canonically has a lot of money which the 8 ex husbands of her.

even with jecka, i just can’t see it! i literally can excuse almost anything in this game. why would nicole ruin her relationship with jecka? jecka is her only real friend (excluding emily). when nicole was kicked, she went to jecka’s home.

it’s just seems since the characters in the game are now eighteen and still ‘crazy’, the creators just decided to use the fetish content they were into and spam it for everything.

since 2024 is the year where everyone is exposed for being an abuser, pedophila, etc, i wouldn’t all that even be shocked if one of the creators was anything of bad.

[fatecantstopme]

Better Together

Pairing: Rafael Barba x reader

Summary: Barba acts like he hates you because it's the only way he can keep his cool in your presence. Things come to a head and you call him out on it...

Warnings: cursing, Rafael is a bit of a dick at first. Use of nicknames (baby, cariño, querida, etc.). SMUT, oral (M and F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V)

A/N: Spanish translations in brackets/italics after each sentence.

cariño/querida: sweetheart/dear/darling/baby/etc.

por favor: please

qué: what

hermosa: beautiful/gorgeous

"Right...and what makes you qualified to make that determination?"

You glared at him. "Eight years of education and ten years of practice."

"Fine, but how long did you actually talk to him?" he countered.

"Four hours."

"So now you're an expert in his mental health?"

You groaned. "He belongs in a psychiatric facility, Barba. Not a prison."

"I disagree. He raped and murdered five women."

"I'm not defending his actions, but I'm telling you he's incapable of understanding the consequences of his actions."

"She's right, counselor," Olivia Benson cut in. "I got the same feeling she did when I first talked to him."

Rafael Barba let out an annoyed huff. "Fine. What do you propose?"

"Offer him a deal," she suggested. "Send him where he can get the help he needs."

Barba nodded, expression still slightly annoyed. "Fine." With that, he walked out of the precinct, presumably to go write up a deal.

As soon as he was out of ear shot, you turned to your friend and colleague. "He argues with me for ten minutes straight, but you tell him the same damn thing and he immediately agrees?"

Olivia shrugged. "You know how he is."

"Pompous, arrogant, rude, and downright insulting?"

She laughed. "All of the above, but he's also a pretty damn good ADA."

You sighed. "I would absolutely love to disagree with you, but you're not wrong. Part of me hates that he's so good at his job. And I hate his smug face and his attitude and those damn three piece suits he looks so goddamn good in," you finished your ramble with a groan.

"Maybe if you told him you thought he was hot, he'd be nicer to you," Olivia said with a wink.

"I hate you."

She laughed. "No you don't."

"Fine, I don't, but I will do no such thing. He quite clearly despises me."

"Does he?"

"Does who what?" Nick Amaro asked as he entered the squad room.

"Does Barba hate (Y/N)?" Olivia asked.

Nick chuckled. "Without a doubt."

"See?!" you said smugly.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "One of these days you're going to have to talk to him. Tell him off for being such an ass to you all the time."

"Now that I agree with," Nick cut in.

"If he pushes the right buttons, I will."

**********

Little did you know that two days later, Barba would push the exact right button.

Olivia, Nick, Amanda, Fin, and yourself were gathered in the squad room discussing your latest case. You had two dead girls in two days and 1PP was already breathing down your necks.

You were going over the profile with the team when Barba walked in. "I know it sounds crazy, guys, but I believe the perp is a girl...probably the same age as the victims."

"Why?" Fin asked.

As you started to explain your reasoning, to include the lack of sexual assault, the relationship between the two girls, and the anger clearly present in the attacks, Barba cut you off with a harsh laugh.

"You think a 10 year old girl is capable of inflicting that kind of trauma?" he interjected. "There's no way."

You took a deep breath in through your nose and exhaled from your mouth before responding. You needed those ten seconds to calm yourself so you didn't murder him. "Were you ever a 10 year old girl?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Obviously not."

"Are you a forensic psychologist?"

"Again, no."

"Have you been working violent sex crimes for 10 years?"

"No..."

"Then be quiet and listen," you finished harshly.

You'd never snapped at him quite so intensely before and he was taken aback. He was also very aware that he may have taken it a little too far this time. He'd made it a point to keep you at arm's length (or farther) for the past 6 months, and he was belatedly realizing he may have been too cruel.

You finished your profile, answering the questions posed by the rest of the squad, before everyone went about their assigned duties.

Barba announced he was going back to his office to update the DA and you were thankful to be rid of him.

"Maybe you were right, (Y/N)," Olivia said softly. "He either hates you or he hates shrinks."

"Likely both."

"I'm proud of you for clapping back," Amanda said warmly. "Someone's gotta put that guy in his place every once in a while."

You smiled mirthlessly. "Once this case is over, I may have more to say to him, but for now, let's focus on finding the person who killed those girls."

**********

Three days later and you had your suspect in custody. You'd been right in your assessment of the perp...it turned out to be a 10 year old girl who had been relentlessly teased and bullied by the two victims for an entire year. The girl finally snapped and killed them both in a blind rage.

After hearing all of the terrible things that had been done to her, you felt sorry for the girl. You understood why she'd killed those girls, even if you didn't condone it.

"Hey, (Y/N/N)," Fin called. "We're going out for drinks. My treat."

"I think I'll take a rain check guys...I've got something I need to do."

"Awww no fun," Amanda teased.

Olivia gave you a look, but you smiled at her reassuringly. She took it to mean you were okay, so she followed the others out.

You'd decided to pay a very special visit to a certain ADA...

You arrived at his office 20 minutes later, and you belatedly realized you probably should have checked to see if he was even there still. It was already after 6pm, but you hoped since he was a workaholic, he would be unaware of the late hour.

When you reached his office door, you found yourself taking a deep breath. You started to question yourself and whether this was a good idea, but then you thought about the way he'd been treating you and you got a burst of courage.

You knocked on his door and waited. You heard a slightly annoyed "Come in", so you opened the door and stepped into his office.

Barba looked up from the paperwork he was buried in, a look of surprise ghosting over his face. "Dr. (Y/L/N)...to what do I owe the pleasure?"

You shut the door behind you and took a step towards his desk. "Do you have a problem with me?"

"Excuse me?" he asked in surprise.

"Do you have a problem with me, specifically, or is it psychologists in general?"

"I don't have a problem with psychologists."

"So it's me, got it. Do you mind telling me what the hell I did to you?"

He had the grace to look sheepish. "You didn't do anything to me."

"Then why do you treat me like I'm some sort of imbecile?"

"I...I never intended to make you feel that way," he said honestly.

"Really? How did you intend to make me feel? You belittle me, insult my abilities and my intelligence, you're unnecessarily rude to me in front of my colleagues..." you trailed off.

He rose from his seat and came around the front of his desk. His expression was unreadable, but his shoulders had slumped slightly. If you didn't know better, you'd think he actually felt bad for the way he'd been treating you.

"You're right," he admitted. "I have treated you entirely unfairly."

It was your turn to look surprised. Out of all the things you'd expected him to say, an admission of guilt was certainly not one of them.

"I don't want you to think, for even a moment, that I don't think you're brilliant. You are the sharpest woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and you're downright phenomenal at your job."

You opened your mouth and closed it a few times before you could formulate a coherent response. "How in the hell was I supposed to know that?"

He blushed and cast his gaze to the floor. "I suppose there was no way for you to know, given the way I've treated you."

"Why, then?" you asked softly.

He sighed deeply and ran his hand over his face. "It's--complicated."

"Enlighten me, Barba. I've got time."

His green eyes raised back up to meet yours and you found yourself nearly breathless--and not for the first time. His eyes were beautiful, typically sparkling with whit and mischief; but in this moment, they shone with emotions so complex you couldn't begin to comprehend them.

"I never intended to be cruel to you, only distant. But I found that being aloof wasn't enough to keep you at bay--I needed something stronger. So...I started treating you as if I hated you. It was just easier, and perhaps safer."

"Safer?"

He nodded, but neglected to clarify. "Keeping you out of my life has become a necessity, Dr. (Y/L/N)."

His formality annoyed you, but you didn't comment on it. "Then why didn't you just tell me you didn't like me?"

He groaned and turned back to his desk to pour himself a glass of scotch. "Because it's not true, and I'm many things, but a liar isn't one of them."

"Okay, but you want nothing to do with me?"

"Exactly."

"You do understand how contradictory that sounds, correct?"

He took a long drink from his glass and leaned back against his desk. "It sounds moronic, yes, I am aware."

You debated your next words with care. You knew if you said what was on your mind, you might regret it, but you also knew if you didn't say it, you would regret it.

"When I met you, I was instantly intrigued by you," you began. "It was obvious you were highly intelligent, but you were also funny, charming, and impeccably well-dressed. It's a rare combination."

You crossed your arms and sighed. "At first, you were friendly and I quite liked you, but things between us turned icy in an instant. I didn't understand it then and I don't understand it now, but what I can tell you is it hurt me. It hurt me deeply, Barba, and it still does."

If he'd felt like an ass before, he felt 1,000 times worse now. "I never intended to hurt you," he said quietly. "You're a kind and loving soul...and you don't deserve to be treated the way I've been treating you."

"You're right," you whispered. "I don't."

He winced slightly and downed the rest of his scotch. "I am truly sorry, (Y/N). More than you'll ever know."

His use of your first name was not lost on you. You could count on one hand the number of times he'd said it and you'd reacted the same way each time. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, your breath caught, and your heart began to speed up.

Rafael had never noticed before...had never really paid attention to you the very few times he'd said your name, but he saw your reaction this time. For the first time since he'd met you, he began to wonder if you shared his feelings...

You quickly recovered yourself--praying he hadn't noticed. "I appreciate your apology." Your voice was slightly off pitch and you wanted to kick yourself for letting any emotion show.

"May I ask you something?" he said suddenly.

You nodded, not trusting your voice in the moment.

"You said what you thought of me when we first met--what do you think of me now?"

"Do you really want to know?"

He nodded.

You swallowed thickly. "Everything I said is true. You're a brilliant man and an even better lawyer...and you can be funny and charming, when you want to be. But that's not the Rafael Barba I get. I get the one reserved for the criminals and defense attorneys you dislike. The ones that make your skin crawl. You're pompous, arrogant, and cruel."

He closed his eyes tightly. Hearing you say what you really thought of him was much more painful than he'd anticipated.

"But I don't believe that's who you really are," you said so softly he almost didn't hear.

He looked back up at you in surprise.

"I think it's a facade you put up--a mask you wear to hide behind."

"What makes you think that?"

"Call it intuition, or perhaps training," you said with a shrug. "Either way, I am certain you really are the man I met in the beginning--not the man you've been the past several months."

"How could you have that much faith in me? After the way I've treated you..."

"Perhaps it's foolish...or maybe I just want it to be true."

He stared at you with a strange look on his face. It was as if he was trying to decide if you were playing him or being sincere. His expression slowly morphed as he realized you'd meant every word you'd said.

"May I be honest with you?" he asked.

"I want nothing less."

"Truthfully, I'm terrified of you. Absolutely, 100%, completely terrified."

Your jaw dropped slightly. Once again, he’d caught you off guard.

"You got under my skin the moment I met you and I haven't been able to get rid of you since. I've never felt like this--like I can't control my own actions or my emotions--and it's petrifying. I thought pushing you away would change how I felt, but it only intensified it. I think that's why I became crueler over time--I was angry at myself and angry with you for making me feel this way. It's not fair to you, I know, but it's the truth."

You were once again shocked to the core. You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing...if you weren't so good at reading people, you'd be convinced he was lying, but as it stood, you knew it was the raw, painful truth.

"You can't control everything, you know," you said quietly.

He laughed harshly. "God, how I wish I could."

"What are you so afraid of?"

He took a moment to answer, but once he did, the words poured out of him. "I'm afraid the way I feel about you will ruin both of our careers. I'm afraid that once you see the man behind the mask, you'll run and leave me broken. I'm afraid that we'll fall apart...that we won't stand the test of time. I'm afraid of falling so deeply in love with you that I lose myself completely. But most of all, I'm afraid that I've already screwed this up beyond repair."

For all your education and all the eloquent words you've learned in your lifetime, you found yourself stunned into complete and utter silence. No words came to mind, no coherent thoughts emerged. You stared at him and he stared at you, as the silence dragged on.

After what had to be an eternity, Rafael spoke again. "Please say something. Anything. Tell me you hate me. Tell me you never want to see my face again. Tell me you'd rather jump off a building than be with me--"

"Stop!" The intensity of your demand silenced him. "Just stop talking…I…I can't find the words I want to say, but I do know one thing: I'm not afraid."

Out of all the things you could have said, all the beautiful sentences you could have strung together, those three words were the perfect response. Fueled with sudden courage, Rafael crossed the space between the two of you in three long strides, coming to a stop a few inches from you.

With a shaking hand, he gently stroked your cheek. "May I?" he asked quietly.

Your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his and you softly begged, "Please."

He leaned into you, lips pressing against yours with soft insistence. The kiss ignited something within you--a desire so deep and powerful it almost frightened you. You grabbed ahold of his suspenders and tugged his body closer to yours as you deepened the kiss.

Rafael moaned softly against your lips, tongue pressing forward, requesting access. You obliged, lips parting to allow him entry. His hands traveled down your soft curves until they landed on your hips. He used his gentle strength to pull you flush against him, his own body backed up against his desk to support him.

You could feel his need for you in his kiss, in his touch...and in his pants. His growing erection was pressed against you, so close to where you wanted him, yet so far away.

Rafael broke the kiss for a moment. "Carmen left for the day."

"Mhmm," you hummed in response.

"But I don't want our first time together to be on the couch in my office."

"How 'bout the desk?" you teased lightly.

He groaned. "Don't think I haven't imagined it, but I'd like to take you home...do this properly--in a bed."

You stared at him for a moment. "If we stay here, it can be casual, unassuming. If I go home with you...that changes everything."

"I don't want casual. I don't want a fling. I want you--and everything that comes along with that."

You studied him closely before responding. You noted the sincerity in his voice and his expression and decided to--for once--allow your heart to lead your decision. "Take me home, Rafael," you whispered.

He breathed deeply, as if trying to control himself. It appeared that you had the same effect on him as he did on you when you called him by his first name.

He didn't say a word--you weren't even sure he could have if he'd wanted to. He simply grabbed his jacket, took your hand, and practically dragged you to the elevator. Once outside, he hailed a cab and helped you into the backseat before sliding in beside you.

As the cab began to move, you rested your hand on Rafael's thigh. He glanced at you, but didn't say anything. You were feeling bold, so you slid your hand slowly up his thigh, inching closer to his evident arousal.

When your fingertips brushed against his clothed cock, he hissed slightly. He leaned over to whisper into your ear so the cab driver wouldn't hear. "Careful, querida. O puedo perder el control [Or I may lose control]."

You inhaled sharply--something about his tone mixed with the hushed Spanish words, sent a jolt of pure arousal straight to your core.

Your reaction didn't go unnoticed by Rafael. He smirked as he discovered one of your kinks. He tucked the knowledge away for later use.

You managed to behave yourself for the rest of the short ride to his apartment, but once inside the building, all bets were off.

His lips were on yours the moment the elevator doors slid closed, pressing your body firmly against the wall. Your fingers tangled in his hair, messing up the perfect locks.

As the elevator dinged and the doors began to open, you reluctantly pulled away from each other. You saw the desperation in his beautiful green eyes and you knew the same look reflected in yours.

He wasted no time guiding you to his apartment and the moment you were both inside, he had you spun around and pressed up against the door.

“Querida,” he whispered hungrily against your lips, fingertips dancing under your shirt.

You moaned softly as you tugged harshly on his suspenders, pushing them out of the way so you could remove his shirt.

Within moments, your clothes and his were strewn across the house as he carried you to his bedroom, nothing left between you but underwear.

Rafael tossed you gently onto the bed before climbing on top of you. He eyed you hungrily—sprawled out beneath him, desire evident on your face.

“You are perfect, hermosa.”

You blushed. “Rafa…”

He groaned. “Fuck. Don’t do that.”

Confusion clouded your expression. You didn’t think you’d done anything wrong…

He’d closed his eyes and his face gave away the internal struggle he was experiencing.

Realization suddenly crossed your features and you grinned. You gently raked your nails down his chest as you murmured the nickname again, “Rafa.”

His eyes shot open and he rutted his hips against yours, mouth pressing wet kisses to your heated skin. His teeth nipped at your neck and collarbone, leaving love bites in his wake.

He was taking his time with you. Wanting to explore every part of you, taste every inch of your skin, catalogue every detail in his mind.

You whimpered softly, not used to such attention, nor such deliberate slowness. “Rafael, please.”

He looked up at you with his trademark smirk. “You ever been with a Hispanic man before, Cariño?”

You blushed and shook your head.

His smirk widened. “We like to take our time, make sure our lady is properly loved and appreciated. This is about your enjoyment, (Y/N/N), not mine.”

“I want you to enjoy yourself too…”

He kissed you gently. “You keep making those pretty sounds for me, querida, and I promise you, I’ll enjoy myself.”

You found yourself unable to respond as he continued his slow descent towards your core. Each gentle caress of his lips against your skin seemed to set your nerve endings on fire--the need within you growing exponentially.

You whined prettily, hips shifting upwards, desperately seeking his lips where you needed them most. "Please," you begged.

You didn't know it yet, but Rafael would never deny you--not in the real world, nor the bedroom. The moment he heard your soft voice begging, he glanced up at your face. You already looked so far gone--your hair was a mess, your lips swollen, your cheeks flushed, and your breathing was ragged. He smiled to himself as he lowered his head, giving you no time to adjust as he dove into you with abandon.

You gasped as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. As skilled as the man between your legs was in the courtroom, he was even better suited with his mouth hungrily devouring you.

In the span of mere minutes, he'd turned you into a gasping, moaning mess--every one of your senses overwhelmed with feeling.

"Rafa--I--I'm close," you gasped.

He hummed against you, lips wrapping around your clit to increase his assault. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, holding you in place as he sped up his ministrations.

Your jaw dropped as a flurry of sounds--some of which were intended to be his name--slipped from your lips. Your orgasm sent wave after wave of intense pleasure through your body, but that pleasure soon turned to sensitivity.

"Rafa, too much--" you whispered as you tried to pull away from him.

He laid his arm across your lower belly, effectively holding you in place as his mouth continued to work you. His eyes flicked up to yours to check if you really did want him to stop, but your head was already thrown back, chest rising and falling rapidly as the familiar knot tightened in your stomach.

The moment your cries turned to moans and pleas to continue, Rafael stopped and lifted his head. "Did you want me to stop, querida?"

"No!" you cried loudly, fingers grasping his hair in an attempt to guide him back where you wanted him.

He smirked as he complied with your direction, lips and tongue once again sending you into a spiral of pleasure you'd never experienced before.

As you came down from your second high, Rafael finally slowed his assault and allowed you to pull his head up when it became too much.

He placed soft kisses against your heated skin, gently soothing you as the aftershocks shuddered through your body. His lips traced the curves of your face with gentle affection until your breathing had begun to normalize.

Rafael kissed you deeply, desire evident in the action. In response, your hand slowly descended down his chest and abdomen, until you reached his throbbing cock. You lightly ran your nails across the still clothed member, enticing a groan from the man above you.

You teased him for a few more seconds before sliding your hand beneath his boxer briefs and palming his cock in your warm hand. He groaned loudly--hips rutting against your hand instantly.

"I wanna taste you," you murmured against the shell of his ear.

"You don't have to..." he said softly.

There was something in his voice that caused you to pull away so you could see his face properly. He looked worried and perhaps a little apprehensive.

"But I want to," you reassured him.

"You do?"

You nodded. "It's something I enjoy very much, Rafa, so if you're okay with it, I would really like to suck your cock."

His eyes closed briefly and he moaned softly, forehead dropping against yours. "Por favor," he begged in a broken voice.

You grinned ear to ear. "Stand up."

"Qué?" he asked in confusion.

You nudged him gently and tilted your head towards the edge of the bed. "Stand up, handsome."

He did as you asked and watched in surprise as you lowered yourself to your knees on the floor in front of him. He felt like he needed to remind you again that you didn't need to do this for him, but when he saw the hunger in your eyes, he fell silent.

You slowly dragged his underwear down, freeing his cock from its constraints. You were a little surprised by his size--he was longer than average and quite thick--but surprise quickly turned to hunger.

You looked up at him, a playful smirk dancing on your lips, and all his worries faded away. It was obvious you wanted this...perhaps just as much as he did.

You wasted no time in wrapping your mouth around his cock, taking as much of him into your mouth as you could, eyes never leaving his face.

You gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, but you pushed past it, determined to provide him with as much pleasure as you could muster.

As you began to move, his fingers intertwined in your hair and his hips stuttered forwards occasionally. You knew what he needed, but it was clear he wasn't going to do it without some prodding.

You pulled off of him with a *pop* and waited until his heavily lidded eyes met yours. "Rafael, I want you to enjoy this."

"I am, cariño," he said in confusion.

"Not as much as you could be." You licked the tip of his cock for emphasis and his hips jumped slightly. "I want you to use my mouth for your own pleasure, Rafa. That's what it's there for."

He shook his head rapidly. He'd been expressly told not to do that by several women before you.

You rubbed his thighs reassuringly. "I want this, baby. Please," you begged. "Please fuck my mouth."

The moment the words were out of your mouth, you sucked his cock back into the warmth of your lips, hoping he would take you seriously. You pressed yourself forward, pushing past the gag reflex to take his entire member into your mouth.

Without hesitation, you began to guide his hips, urging him to give in and take what he wanted--what he needed.

You flicked your gaze up to meet his and nodded your head as best you could, hands still encouraging him to move. He very tentatively began to move his hips and you smiled, fingers digging into his thighs.

When you didn't pull away, he started to put a little more force into the movements. When you still didn't pull away, he sped up, fingers wrapping in your hair to keep you still.

You let him take control, eyes still trained on his face. He slowly began to thrust in earnest, fucking your mouth like it was his favorite place to be. You watched his head fall back, moans of intense pleasure leaving his lips.

You held onto him and focused on breathing as you let him use you. A few minutes passed before his hips began to stutter and you knew he was close.

You prepared to swallow everything he had to give you, but he surprised you by pulling away, your mouth coming off of him with a *pop*.

His breathing was ragged and his eyes were wild--pupils blocking out the brilliant green. "I need you," he said, voice raw and husky.

You understood his meaning and quickly crawled back onto the bed. He was on top of you almost immediately, lips latching onto your neck, teeth nipping at your flesh.

His cock rubbed against the outside of your pussy and you both groaned.

"Fuck," he mumbled. "Do I need a condom?"

"Pill," you gasped as you shook your head. "Wanna feel you fill me up, Rafa."

He let out a low growl and his eyes turned even more feral. He gave you no warning as he plunged his cock deep inside of you, stretching you in ways you'd never been stretched before.

"Rafael!" you cried out at the sensation.

Normally he would have forced himself to give you time to adjust, but his mind was too far gone. He set a brutal pace almost instantly and you were simply along for the ride.

There were so many new sensations that you were having a hard time staying focused. Everything just felt so incredible.

Your pussy throbbed around him, pulling him in even deeper. "Te sienetes muy bien, querida." [You feel so good, sweetheart.]

You moaned loudly, nails digging into his back as you arched against him.

"Te gusta cuando te hablo español, ¿no?" he growled into your ear. [You like it when I speak Spanish to you, don't you?"]

"Yes!" you gasped.

"Chica sucia," he chuckled darkly. [Dirty girl.]

"Rafa, please--I'm so close."

He groaned. "Quiero que vengas conmigo, cariño," he mumbled. [I want you to cum with me, sweetheart.] "Can you do that for me?" he asked in English.

You nodded your head rapidly.

"Esa es mi buena chica," he praised. [That's my good girl.]

You moaned lowly, preening at his praise. He smiled and picked up his pace, not wanting to stop until he felt you fall apart. "So close," he mumbled.

"Don't--stop!"

He knew you were close--could tell by the way your pussy fluttered around him--so he whispered, "Cum for me, baby."

You cried out as your orgasm hit you with more force than either of the two you'd had earlier. Rafael groaned your name as he spilled his seed within you, filling you up as your walls milked him dry.

You both began to come down from your highs, the intensity of your orgasms taking the wind out of both of you. Rafael pulled out and collapsed beside you, completely spent and satiated.

"That was pretty decent," you said between breaths.

He snapped his head in your direction and started to laugh when he saw the mischief in your eyes.

You grinned and joined in on his laughter, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him.

"Very decent," he muttered against your hair.

You laughed again. "'Fucking incredible' would be a more accurate description."

"I couldn't agree more." He sighed softly. "I don't wanna move."

"Who says we have to?"

"We probably should...we do have work in the morning after all."

Your body tensed slightly and he felt it, realizing how his previous statement may have sounded. "I want you to stay, querida. I'm just saying we should probably get up and shower before we fall asleep."

You relaxed. "You may have to carry me."

He chuckled and dragged himself out of bed, pulling you along with him. He scooped you up despite your protests and carried you to the bathroom, placing you on the counter while he started the shower.

"I was kidding, Rafa!"

He smiled. "If my girl can walk immediately after sex, then I did something wrong. I'm always happy to carry you."

You smiled back at him, realizing he was completely serious. You watched him quietly, completely lost in thought.

"Where's your mind, querida?" he asked softly.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. "I'm happy...that's all."

Rafael kissed you gently. "Me too, hermosa. Now come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Once you were both clean and dry, he carried you back to his bed and laid you down gently before crawling into the bed beside you. He tugged you in closely against his chest and you sighed contentedly.

"Go to sleep, cariño. I'll be here in the morning when you wake up."

Somehow he seemed to know exactly what you needed to hear. Knowing he wasn't going anywhere and feeling his strong arms wrapped around you, allowed you to feel a calm peace you'd not felt in years.

Within minutes, you'd drifted off to sleep in his arms. Just before he fell asleep too, Rafael kissed the top of your head and whispered, "Te adoro con locura." [I adore you madly.]

[marticoresims]

Custom career - Psychologist!

I edited LientebollemeiS2I's Psychologist career, changing nearly everything about it. What stayed are links to uni majors, the icon (which is also a uni major) and some inspiration for chance cards. IMO this career has a strong Maxis vibe, with "start from nothing" first levels, NPC references and silly chance cards.

Each level title has a number added to it, like in this mod.

The 4 skills required for this job are: Logic, Charisma, Cleaning and Creativity.

IMPORTANT EDIT: With LientebollemeiS2I's guidance, I also edited the GUID of the career and changed PTO (paid time off) back to default. Now you can use both our careers at the same time! The GUID is: 0xC6A05A9D. In case you need to check if you have something that uses the same one (it was generated, so might repeat).

DOWNLOAD (SFS)

List of levels with descriptions:

Psychology Books Enjoyer Lvl 1 You'll take any book that has anything to do with the topic of psychology and devour it instantly, hoping this knowledge will be useful some day.

Internet Mental Health Advisor Lvl 2 You dive into web forums to find the most interesting psychological cases and comment on them. Your aspirations are high, but you don't have the skills or degrees yet to become a real therapist. One can dream, though!

Social Bunny Lvl 3 You've actually made it to a real mental health institution, and not as a patient, but as an assistant… sort of. Don't forget to be the fluffiest bunny out there because what you're doing here is really helping other Sims. And all you ever wanted was to help others, right?

Therapist in Training Lvl 4 It's been hard, but you've made it to an actual psychology path. Just stay strong and you'll definitely open your own private practice office one day.

Social Worker Lvl 5 Whether it's leaving children home alone for too long, starving them or not dressing them appropriately to the weather… you'll be there to collect them and find more responsible families for them. It's a tough job, but it's something you have to get through in your training.

Private Counselor Lvl 6 You've finally made it! You're officially a therapist and working in your private office. Now, your mission is to care for your clients in the best way that you can. So don't stop educating yourself!

Psychology Researcher Lvl 7 Your passion for psychology is never-ending. You've decided to take it to the next level and do important research to contribute to the science. Good job!

Personality Specialist Lvl 8 During your research, you've grown very interested in the depths of Sims' personality. What can change it? To what extent is it genetic? What's that thing about werewolves?

Clinical Psychologist Lvl 9 Regular therapy practice and deep research were not quite enough for you. Now it's time to make real diagnoses, assist psychiatrists in their work, and make the world a better place. Keep on learning and you might become the ultimate Therapist.

Therapist NPC Lvl 10 It's time to deal with the real Wretched Outcasts and Doddering Deadbeats. In order to do it, you needed to learn teleportation, hypnosis and partial invisibility. If someone is in crisis, you're the Sim they'll always turn to.

As for clothes and cars (or lack thereof 👀), you'll have to see for yourself in game 😎

DOWNLOAD (SFS)

Hope you like it! I've always wanted a therapist-like career in The Sims 2.

Made with Bidou's Career Editor (now part of SimPE).

[reasonsforhope]

I can't take the state of the world anymore, every day things constantly get worse and there's literally nothing we can do. Every time things get better they're immediately undone by forces more powerful than us. I just want things to go back to the way they were before when it felt like there was hope, now it feels like humanity is doomed and will never, ever get better. I just want to die so I can finally know peace from this evil.

Hey. I'm really, really sorry you're having such a hard time. That sounds like an incredibly painful headspace to be in.

Please find someone you can talk to and who can help you - whether that's a peer counselor or a good friend or a trained mental health professional. Especially a trained mental health professional, if you can. You can find a really thorough list of crisis hotlines listed by country here.

Also, I realllllly recommend getting off any websites or social media that are contributing to you feeling like this, or at least block all the people/tags posting things that are making you feel like this. Negativity bias is real - the news/internet doesn't accurately reflect the world and neither does the way your brain perceives it

In the meantime, a few quick words/facts of comfort. I hope they can give you at least some reassurance or solace.

We literally have more reason to hope we can solve climate change than ever before x

Starting about six months ago, major international energy reports have come out for the first time showing that we have a visible, concrete path to staying under 1.5 degrees celsius x

Twenty, even ten years ago, scientists talked about whether we could possibly manage to limit global warming to 4 or 5 degrees Celsius. Now, those numbers aren't even on the map - we're talking 1.5 or 2 degrees Celsius. We've cut expected warming in half in under a decade x

Renewable energy is growing so exponentially it's now "unstoppable" x

Two hundred years ago, in 1800, there wasn't a single "liberal democracy" - a democracy that gives all citizens the right to vote - on the planet. Just over one hundred years ago, in 1900, there were five of them. Today, roughly half the countries (aka roughly 100) on the planet fall into this category. International politics is so often two steps forward, one step back, but this is actually an astonishing pace of progress in the grand scheme of things x

For all of human history, until just over 200 years ago, roughly half of all children died. Across times, across cultures. Half of all children died by the age of 15. Half of them. Today, globally, that same child mortality rate is only 4%. We did that. We changed what was previously an eternal, inescapable, and horrific condition of human existence, and we are going to keep making that rate go down x

Two steps forward, one step back, is still moving forward. There are so, so, so many reasons that we are not already doomed. There are so many reasons to think the future is going to be bright

To anyone struggling with thoughts like this: please, please give yourself the chance to see it

[strawwritesfic]

Kelvin!Spock x Female!Human!Reader: Mr. Right

Summary: When one door closes, another opens—perhaps the door you were meant to enter all along.

Warnings/Tags: Starship Enterprise; post-Star Trek Beyond; friends to lovers; breakup; almost kiss; counselor!reader; Star Trek: The Original Series references; Star Trek: The Next Generation references

Relationships: Spock/Reader; Spock & Nyota Uhura; past!Spock/Nyota Uhura; past!Kevin Riley/Reader

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Requester: @lovemesomeescapism

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: For once, this is not a repost for this challenge…technically. I did write a response to the prompt "Mr. Right" ages ago, but when I was reposting, I decided that the Now You See Me one shot I wrote really wasn't worth keeping. Someone on Tumblr asked me for a Spock one shot, so I slipped him in as a replacement.

It's been a really long time since I finished something new. I realize that I am rusty. This is actually several drafts into attempts to write this one shot. For the first time ever, I actually cannibalized previous drafts while trying to get the meandering dialogue and point back on track. It still doesn't feel quite "right" to me, but it's probably going to take some time before I get back in the swing of things, and I'm ready to let this one go.

Mr. Right

Throughout Terra's history, human beings had sought the comfort of white noise. Quiet droning sounds proved beneficial for many aspects of mental health in the species. As a counselor on board the U.S.S. Enterprise, you'd recommended listening to white noise to dozens of fellow crewmates and patients alike. The best way to do this in the deep space you'd all been exploring for nearly five years was to turn everything in one's quarters down until the low hum of the ship's warp drive became audible. Many of those crewmates and patients reported back to you with decreased stress levels, improved mood, and a distinct uptick in ability to concentrate. Almost all of them said they got better sleep.

Now you learned that every single one of them had lied to you.

You'd spent the better part of the evening-adjacent hours lying face-down on your sofa, trying and failing to take a nap. The scratchy, standard-issue pillow beneath your face was soaked with tears. Your chest ached. Worst of all, any attempt on your part to get your mind off what upset you just ended with you crying harder. All the while, that awful rumble went on and on and on and on relentlessly, allowing you no respite long enough to drift off and forget your current predicament.

A chime cut through your misery. You paused without so much as lifting your head. As of three hours prior, you were officially off duty for the day. Nothing required you to answer the door unless an order came down from a superior officer, and they would call first. Probably it was only Uhura coming by to check on you. Having been through her own breakup during this voyage, surely she would understand when you didn't let her inside.

The chime sounded again, and with it came a surge of possibilities flooding your mind. What if your visitor was dealing with a crisis? Cases of PTSD had been on the rise since the events on Altamid. You could hardly ignore that in favor of your own small, personal crisis. Off duty or not, your role as a ship's counselor would not allow you to wallow in self-pity when someone might need your help.

As your boots hit the floor, you pressed one sleeve of your rumpled blue uniform to the corner of each eye. The gesture wouldn't do much to disguise what you'd been doing over the course of your time off, but you felt a little steadier afterward. Breathing deeply in and out helped too—until you hiccuped. But you could prepare yourself no more. Squaring your shoulders, you stood, walked over to the door leading to the corridor, and opened it.

Just outside stood the familiar, lanky figure of the ship's science officer. The second you spotted him, you wiped your sleeve across your face with greater urgency.

"You're not one of my patients," you said, "or Uhura."

"A very astute observation, Lieutenant [L Name]," Spock replied.

A long moment elapsed during which the two of you stared at one another. Several fellow crewmates in various uniform colors threw curious looks at his back as they passed by on their ways to wherever they were headed. Your friend, meanwhile, allowed a single dark eyebrow to drift toward his hairline. He clearly had no intention of moving on.

"What are you doing here?" you sighed at last.

The wayward eyebrow rejoined its brother. "Lieutenant Commander Uhura informed me that you left your office this afternoon in distress. I note that her assessment was an accurate one. If anything, you appear to be in more distress now than she described to me then."

You couldn't lie to Spock, not when you looked the way you looked after a crying jag like the one you'd just had. So you didn't bother to try. "Fine. I'm in distress. But really, Spock, it's not the kind of distress you can help with. I'm sure Captain Kirk will need you on a landing party any minute now, so if you'll excuse me—"

"Lieutenant Commander Uhura also informed me of the cause of your distress."

"Of course she did." Sometimes you wished your two friends were a little lighter on the "amicable" part of "amicable exes." "Let me guess: You came by to tell me that you told me so."

"As a Vulcan, I have no reason to rub my correct prediction in your face, if you will forgive the Terra colloquial."

You let out a wet laugh despite yourself. "You're pardoned."

"What I have done is stopped by the mess hall. If I am not much mistaken, ice cream is a traditional consolation food in these types of situations."

He produced from behind his back a number of different colored tapes. So startled were you that you found yourself unable to say anything. Never in a million years would you have imagined Spock of all people standing in front of you and offering you junk food of all things. Your silence went on for so long that he had to prompt you to speak:

"Was I incorrect in my understanding of how to handle Terran breakups?"

"No," you said, then, "I just didn't want you to find out about the breakup until I could pull myself together."

"I surmised as much, given that Lieutenant Commander Uhura found out about your circumstances before I did, although you and I are closer friends. It would have been more logical for you to contact me for assistance than her."

Vulcans as a whole were difficult to read. Even factoring in your education and training, as well as your friendship with Spock that had gone on for several years now, you could only guess his feelings the majority of the time. Not so then. Something about his tone made him sound hurt. Maybe you could chalk that up to projecting your own feelings onto him, but you couldn't risk that assumption.

"It's just that you warned me against dating Kevin," you explained. "As ship's counselor, I should have seen the end coming a kiloparsec away."

"Perhaps. But one might also say that your extensive proximity to the crew's emotions might cause some loss in objectivity on your part."

"So you're not here to make me feel worse?"

"I came for consolation purposes. That is all."

"Well, all right, then."

You stepped away from the doorway. Spock followed you in. He paused only long enough to press the button to close the door before he came to join you in your sitting room. A crate sat on the floor along his path, and he looked at you questioningly as he walked by it.

"Those are Kevin's things," you said.

"Expedient," he observed.

Normally, you might have tried to go for a little more decorum around him, but that day you didn't have the energy to do more than flop back onto your couch. At least you were upright. Spock, on the other hand, claimed a dignified perch at the end of your chair. The two of you certainly made an odd pair.

"He had so many hair products!" you burst out when the awkward silence turned unbearable. "I should have known we wouldn't work out. Who brings that much hair spray into deep space?"

"Humanity can hardly be expected to iron out all its flaws when you all cling so hard to your baser emotions."

"Do you mean Kevin's desire to look nice, or my need to be in a relationship?"

Spock blinked, then smoothly said, "In this case, I refer to your former beau's preoccupation with personal grooming."

"Right. Either way, I'm about ready to get rid of all my own baser emotions. Not feeling them would be a blessing." You got back to your feet and thrust one hand in Spock's direction. "Ice cream tape, please."

He offered one to you.

"Spock," you said warningly.

"I do not believe that heartbreak is an excuse to overeat. I only brought so many because I was unsure which flavor you would select."

The glare you leveled at him seemed to make him think better of lecturing you on the dangers of gluttony—as well it should have. This was the same glare that you gave Dr. McCoy when you were tired of listening to him. Unlike with Dr. McCoy, you smiled once Spock dropped the rest of the tapes into your outstretched hand.

"Thank you." You headed for your in-quarters food producer, then turned your head to ask over your shoulder, "What flavor do you want?"

"I do not require ice cream."

"Come on, Spock. If you're going to spend the evening commiserating with me, you have to have some ice cream, too. That's a critical part of the Terran breakup process."

One corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll have pistachio, then."

You fed the yellow-green tape into the slot. A quiet beeping noise covered the hum of the warp drive as the computer worked. While you waited, you flipped through the remainder of the flavors until you found the one you wanted.

"I don't think it would be a good idea for you to give up emotions," Spock said.

"Huh?" Frowning at him, you replaced his tape with yours. "Aren't you the guy that's been talking about doing the Kolinahr when we get back to Earth?"

"That's different. I am a Vulcan."

"Half Vulcan."

"Vulcan enough."

A shriller beep put an end to this potentially sticky subject. The ice creams were ready. You dumped the rest of the tapes in a basket next to the food producer, picked up the bowls, and brought them back to the living room. Spock took his with a grateful nod, though he waited until you sat down again before taking a bite.

"Maybe I'd be a better counselor if I didn't have emotions," you mused. "If I wasn't blinded by my own feelings, I could help the crew more with theirs. I shouldn't have the same problems as they do after all the studying I've done."

"While that may indeed make sense, it is hardly realistic. Besides, if you did not have your human emotions, you would no longer be the [Name] that I know, and I believe that I would miss her."

You couldn't help but smile around the spoon in your mouth. Popping that out, you said, "I bet you say that to all the Terrans you like."

"Hardly. In fact, that captain may benefit from an hour or two without his usual emotions."

"I appreciate you saying that, Spock."

"I am only speaking the truth. I have no intention of bolstering your ego artificially, even if doing so is a part of the Terran breakup process."

"I know." You slowly lowered your spoon back to the bowl, staring off into space. Something was dawning on you—something that might have dawned on you sooner had you not been so enthralled with your own feelings. "You know what else I appreciate? You coming here to help me today. Not every first officer would go out of their way for a ship's counselor like that."

Spock fixed you with an unblinking gaze as he said, "You mean a great deal more to me than most ship's counselors mean to their first officers."

"I don't care what Captain Kirk says. You sure know how to make a woman blush."

"I have had some practice with the activity."

"Remind me to thank Uhura later."

"Thank her for what?" Spock asked.

Maybe you were reading the signs wrong. Maybe you were just desperate. If he had to ask, you had to be wrong. But you took a deep breath anyway, and said, "Helping me realize that maybe the guy I've been looking for this whole time has been my best friend all along."

How could it have taken you this long to work it out? No one else spent as much time with you as Spock did, not outside of your office hours. It didn't matter if you were in the mess hall asking for a round of Fizzbin after dinner or you wanted a quiet night in your quarters. He always seemed to be there. You felt comfortable around him. Maybe you didn't always understand Spock; maybe Spock didn't always understand. But you didn't enjoy anyone's company the way you did his. And you had to wonder when your eyes met just then if he felt the same way, and if this coming-to-see-you-with-ice-cream thing was his way of showing you that.

"Well," he moistened his lips before going on, "I certainly feel that our relationship is founded more steadily upon mutual interests and desires than it is upon a passion for hair products."

You leaned forward. "You know, that sort of relationship sounds really appealing right about now."

"It does?" Spock shifted closer to you.

"I think it's about time that I dated someone whose first thought in the morning isn't beating me to the sonic shower, don't you?"

By that time, you both had come so close that it wouldn't have taken much more movement on either of your parts to touch lips. Your heart gave a painful leap inside your chest. Was this too much too fast? Even if you had just realized you'd had a thing for Spock for a while now, you had only just broken up with your last boyfriend that morning. Treating Spock as a rebound was the last thing you wanted to do. He didn't seem to mind, though. His mouth drew closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath on your face.

The communicator in your room chirped. You jumped. Spock paused before sitting back up in his chair. Then you rose wordlessly, stepped over to the panel, cleared your throat, and pushed the button.

"[L Name]," you said.

"[Name]?" Uhura did not remark on how breathless you sounded, thankfully. "I need to talk to Spock."

"It's for you," you said unnecessarily. Spock had already reset his face into its typical blank mask and made his way to the communicator himself.

"Spock here. What is it, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Captain Kirk needs you on the bridge. We have a situation up here."

"What kind of a situation?"

"There's a former United States President floating outside the ship. He says he needs our help."

"I will be there right away."

A second chirp signaled that communications between your room and the bridge had ceased. Spock turned back to you.

"My presence is needed on the bridge," he said.

"So I heard."

"I apologize. I believe we were in the middle of something."

"It's all right."

He didn't move.

"Spock, go. Don't you want to know why a deceased historical figure has asked for the Enterprise's help?"

"I'd prefer to stay here," Spock said. "But you are correct. I must leave. Will you still be here later tonight?"

"Yeah." You surprised yourself with the eagerness of your answer. "Yeah, I will. I promise I won't run off with any other lieutenants while you're away. I'll save the rest of the ice cream. We can share it when you get back."

There it was: The slight curl to Spock's mouth that told you that you weren't making up the mutual attraction between you both after all. "To use another Terran phrase, it's a date."

He hesitated another moment longer before he quickly exited your quarter. You grinned as the door slid shut behind him and the white noise returned full force. As you sunk into your couch and pillow this time, you found you didn't mind the hum as much. In fact, the sound did exactly what it was supposed to do: Relax you. Kevin and his excuses from that morning felt farther away than your own home planet. Maybe you owed him a thank you, too, because if you were still with him, you wouldn't have slept as well as you did that night knowing that Spock would be back soon.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling a school counselor about what my friend does online?

I (F minor) am in middle school. I have a group of friends, about 8 people, but this is about one girl in specific we can call Annie. All of us are mutuals on tumblr, twitter, etc. and we have a discord server too.

All of us are into a lot of the same things, like art, anime, video games, and have a lot of the same hobbies. Most of us also struggle with mental health stuff like anxiety and/or depression so we regularly talk to our school counselor (F, Idk how old she is).

Anyways, we're all really close and we get along really well for the most part, but lately Annie has been doing stuff that really bothers and worries us.

She's VERY into internet discourse. Has 10 paragraph long DNI page, is constantly starting fights with other people, etc. She usually argues about stuff like LGBT+ rights, womens rights, etc. but also a LOT of fandom discourse which is my biggest concern.

A lot of my other friends reblog/retweet stuff like anime gifs, fanart, memes, etc. but pretty much every post I see from Annie is her fighting with someone over shipping or something like that.

A lot of the posts are basically:

Her talking about how disgusting a certain ship or character is

How everyone who likes that specific thing is a degenerate, or freak, or pedo or groomer.

How if you like problematic ships you need to get a therapist, or you deserve to be hurt. Once I saw her arguing with someone who said they write certain stuff due to trauma and she said "You don't have trauma, you're either lying or you actually liked it and that's why you write such disgusting nasty shit"

Fighting with random people and accusing them of being a predator or a pedo

Breaking her own DNI (which says adults, proshitters, etc. DNI) and then getting mad at the other person for responding

It's really upsetting to see because she does this CONSTANTLY. She never seems to use tumblr/twitter to do things she actually likes. I never see her reblog gifs or memes or just silly lighthearted posts about stuff she enjoys.

It's especially upsetting because we're minors and she TELLS PEOPLE THAT. Like she's arguging with people that she thinks are pedos or child predators, while openly telling people her actual age. To me that's like covering yourself in bloody steaks and then jumping into water full of sharks.

I was really starting to get concerned because even in our private discord server she's always talking about how much she hates these people or whatever and how they should die, a lot of the time she says things like "they should get the wall" or "I hope their nasty fanfics happen to them irl that would teach them lol" and it really freaks me out.

She also talks about seeing the "child porn" that these people make which as far as I'm aware is drawings of characters but it still freaks me out how open and calm she is about looking at what she THINKS is child porn. I asked her if it's child porn why is it being linked in callout posts for other people (including minors!) to see and not being reported to the FBI but she just gets mad and changes the subject.

Me and our other friends have mentioned before that we don't like hearing about this kind of stuff but then she just gets mad and goes offline or gives us the silent treatment at school.

A month or so ago I got so fed up and upset, that I took a bunch of screenshots of her tumblr account and discord messages. One thing to note is that her username is VERY specific.

It's a combination of her first and last name and her birth year. Most people will not know that, but if you know her name and birthday, it's easy to tell it's her. She also goes by her real name online which I also screenshotted as proof it's her.

I brought all this to the school counselor, and I told her how worried I was about Annie, and how I think she's doing something really unsafe. Not only is she confronting people she thinks are child predators/groomers, she's telling people they deserve to get hurt in really awful ways, and looking at porn and I don't think this is good for her mental health.

The counselor at first was like "Idk are you SURE it's her? It could be anyone online!" But I insisted that it was and explained the username thing and that this was our private discord server so obviously I know it's her.

She thanked me for letting her know and told me I was being a good friend and then we talked about how I was doing, and then I left. I kind of forgot about it until a week later.

Annie wasn't online at all and I was kind of worried, but then I saw her on Monday at school. I was with our other friends and we called out her name so she would see us and come over and she LOST IT. She started screaming at us and telling us how awful we were, and how we ruined her life.

Idk what exactly happened, but apparently the counselor talked to her and her parents got involved? Her parents now monitor her internet usage, they have child safety stuff on the browsers, and she's only allowed on certain websites for doing research for school, or watching videos on youtube on their account so they can see what videos she's watching, or playing games on steam.

She said that her parents are also putting her in therapy once a week now (with an actual therapist, not the counselor) and she's only allowed to go out with an adult chaperone (either her older sister or one of her parents).

But... None of our friends know it was me who told the counselor. Annie has other friends besides us, so they're also "suspects" for being the snitch. It seems like half of our friends are relieved that Annie is kept away from that kind of stuff and the other half are mad at whoever the snitch is for ratting Annie out and resulting in her having less privacy/freedom.

At first I was happy that Annie was getting help and being kept away from this but now I feel really conflicted. I feel so disgusting talking to her and our other friends and pretending nothing happened, knowing that I was the one who told the counselor.

Annie still talks to us but she's a lot less open. We still have our discord server but apparently her parents will read through the messages to make sure she's not talking about anything bad and that she's only talking to us and not strangers.

What are these acronyms?

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Gabby Deutch

When someone posted in a private Facebook group for Chicago therapists in March, asking whether anyone would be willing to work with a Zionist client, several Jewish therapists quickly responded, saying they would be happy to be connected to this person. 

What happened next sparked fear and outrage among Jewish therapists in Chicago and across the country, and illuminated the atmosphere of intimidation and harassment faced by many Jews in the mental health world who won’t disavow Zionism. Those who replied, offering their services to this unnamed client, soon found themselves added to a list of supposedly Zionist therapists that was shared in a group called “Chicago Anti-Racist Therapists.”

“I’ve put together a list of therapists/practices with Zionist affiliations that we should avoid referring clients to,” Heba Ibrahim Joudeh, the document’s author, wrote. (A request for comment sent to the practice she runs with her husband did not receive a response.) The administrator of the anti-racist group chimed in, praising the list as a way “to be transparent about clinicians who promote and facilitate White supremacy via Zionism.” The comments came quickly: “Amazing, thank you,” one person wrote. “Omg a place I was looking at is on here,” another wrote, with angry emojis. 

The only trait shared by the 26 therapists on the list is that they are Jewish. “When I saw this whole list created and my name on the list, I was so confused and in disbelief about how, in 2024, this is considered OK. It was a list of Jews,” said Anna Finkelshtein, a licensed clinical social worker in Chicago who immigrated from Russia as a child. “I do not post publicly about the conflict or about Israel at all, ever. It feels like the only way to feel safe as a Jew in the mental health field is to publically speak out against Israel and condemn it and call it a genocide.”

The anti-Zionist blacklist is the most extreme example of an anti-Israel wave that has swept the mental health field since the Oct. 7 Hamas terror attacks and the resulting war in Gaza, which has seen the deaths of thousands of Palestinian civilians. More than a dozen Jewish therapists from across the country who spoke to Jewish Insider described a profession ostensibly rooted in compassion, understanding and sensitivity that has too often dropped those values when it comes to Jewish and Israeli providers and clients. 

At best, these therapists say their field has been willing to turn a blind eye to the antisemitism that they think is too rampant to avoid. At worst, they worry the mental health profession is becoming inhospitable to Jewish practitioners whose support for Israel puts them outside the prevailing progressive views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

“The goal in therapy is to provide compassionate care to whoever walks through your door,” Dean McKay, a professor of psychology at Fordham University, told JI. “As part of our training — I don’t remember in my own training, and it’s not the way that I train anybody else, to ever say, ‘Look, here are the people who are worthy of our care.’”

“We all worried that it could get this bad, but I don’t think any of us were actually expecting it to happen,” said Halina Brooke, a licensed professional counselor in Phoenix, Ariz. Four years ago, she created an organization called the Jewish Therapist Collective to build community among Jewish professionals and raise the alarm about an undercurrent of antisemitism in the field. “Once Oct. 7 hit, we’ve all been in crisis mode since literally that morning, and the stories that have come in from colleagues and about their clients have been horrifying.”

*****

The antisemitism problem in the mental health profession is more than just workplace gossip. Jewish therapists — and Jewish clients — worry about how the growing anti-Israel orthodoxy will show up in clients’ sessions, and if it will affect their care, especially at a time when more people than ever are seeking therapy. A Gallup survey showed that in 2022, 23% of American adults had visited a mental health professional in the prior year, compared to 13% in 2004. 

[lobotomy-lady]

you're a wannabe artist and domestic terrorist. do you ever meaningfully advance your goals in any fashion or do you just like to think about what it would be like if you did them? you impotently post about wanting to commit terrorism, and yet never do it. you're a thin veil of a person. youre a bad perfomance. you narrativise everything you do it's so transparent and embarrassing! lack of self awareness is the pinnacle of cringe. i can't believe I ever liked your blog.

This is...literally the most ridiculously parasocial ask I've ever gotten (which I'm sure you know is really saying smth, I don't know why I attract these type of followers but it is what it is). I am actually deeply fascinated by your perception of me & the fact that I'm apparently on your mind enough for you to feel betrayed & offended by me like this?? Wild. But anyways I'm just gonna respond earnestly bc I'm working a double rn, no one is in the center so I'm bored as shit but just know that this is the funniest thing I've ever received & I laughed for like 5 minutes before starting to type anything.

So like...first of all idk why this needs to be said but I am not in fact seriously aspiring to a life of terrorism-are you saying that bc I post about wanting to kill rapists but am not actually out there killing them?? You wouldn't know if I was bc I'm not an idiot who posts about committing felonies, secondly I'm a grown adult with a job & responsibilities to my family so I can't exactly go & throw my life away to become a vigilante for a few weeks then spend forever in jail.

As for the artist part, I mean...I write literally every day (& I talk about my various ongoing projects on here sometimes so idk how you missed that, real parasocials would know, sad!) so yeah I'm advancing in that respect lol. When I talk about my chronic procrastination it's usually me ignoring my novel for my screenplay ( which is much less likely to turn into anything by virtue of needing a producer investing hundreds of thousands of dollars rather than the option of just self publishing an e-book). I have a novel, two screenplays, & an album of songs that I'm almost done with, plus a ton of ideas for future projects I want to work on. If anything my problem is flittering between too many projects at once, if I could stick to one I'd have completed it by now lol.

Also if there's one thing I have in abundance it's self awareness! I'm literally the most self aware person on earth why do you think I refer to my dreams as delusional...it's bc I know being a famous writer/director is a crazy aspiration to have for a working class nobody with no money or connections. Why do you think I'm working as a crisis counselor & pursuing a career in the mental health field in the mean time? Backup plan!

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

You're Ignorant

This is going to be a lengthy post. Or I will manage to short form this.

So it does not matter if you are on the left or on the right in the United States. However, over the past 15 years, the prominence of this problem seems to happen far more frequently with those that vote for Democrats. IT DOES happen with republicans, but it's not as frequent or with the same fervor.

So public perception of Bills that go through the senate and the house is normally based on the name, or what the people putting the bill out tell you that it does. However since around the time of the Obama admin, bill drafted by democrats have been getting longer and longer and longer, so much so that they are massive enough to be wheeled out on a little red wagon.

Bills that are quite literally 100's if not 1000's of pages long. The reason people that are "Blue no matter who" voters actually piss me off is because they don't care if the bill actually kills people so long as the NAME is good. To paraphrase someone from a different post when this topic came up. "A bill could come out called the "Don't kick puppies act". And when it goes through the legislative, some republicans will vote against it, and then Democrats and the media will come out saying 'X amount of republicans want to kick puppies'. What they don't tell you is that on line 2 of the bill, it says it will send 2 billion dollars to Brazil to teach gay dance theory."

And that's the point. It's not about what the bill is called. It's not about what they WANT the bill to do. It is about what the bill will ACTUALLY do. What does it say? What are the legal implications? Does the legal jargon of the bill do something other than what is specified in bill? But it gets a little worse than that with all of this. Politicians lie. Not only do they tend to lie, they normally do it by misrepresenting intent. This can be seen with both parties as well but happens far more often with people that vote democrat because they are far easier to manipulate.

Take the "Don't say gay bill". It literally had nothing to do with talking about gay stuff. What it did disallow was talking about sexual identity and sexual orientation as a class discussion or part of a curriculum. Funny enough that also includes talking about being strait as a point of class discussion, or curriculum. People kept talking about use of pronouns but that had really nothing to do with the bill. What the bill was actually even created for was because a teacher, behind the back of the parents of the kid, started to transition a kid, after convincing the kid that she was trans. During the process, the kid was not getting mental or emotional health help at all. The teacher helped the kid get on hormones I believe and was aiming to find a way to help with surgeries but the teen girl tried to kill herself. After the parents found out what happened, they removed the kid from the school and started getting her mental health help.

After she started getting the help that she needed she pretty much came to realize that it was just a combination of (initially) mild depression, pressure from her peers and, pushing from the teaching and administrative staff that convinced her she was trans.

So yeah. THE BILL IN QUESTION called the "Parental Rights in Education Bill", had nothing to do with "Not saying gay". Hell the bill did not even stop kids from talking to teachers or counselors about being gay in private. IT DID however stop them from hiding important things about their kids from parents.

Fact of the matter is, just because a name of something is good, does not in any way imply that is good. Just because the democrats LIE and say that something "should be called" something, does not mean that it is. Or we can talk about the Restrict act. Which YES was the spawn of certain Republican lawmakers but had some support from the democrats as a Patriot Act 2.0. Ya know another bill that would strip more freedoms from us and remove more of our privacy. All under the guise of "Banning TikTok". Which I agree with only the ban.

Mostly because the app is a spyware app, that is causing legitimate mental illness in today's youth. That and the algorithm used for the US's version of the app is actually pretty damaging over all to people. More so with the sensationalism it tends to spread.

Long story short. If your preferred reps push a bill over 100 pages long, you MIGHT want to believe that you are being lied to about its contents. Or understand that what you are being told about it is not the whole truth.

Because fact of the matter is this. You might think Democrats have your best interest in mind and every bad thing is the fault of the "EVIL MAGA REPUBLIANS", but look at California and New York. Rampant homelessness. Removal of several safety offices. Policies that claim to help minority communities but hurt them more and more every day. And excess spending and misappropriation of funds. And both of these states have been under full rule of Dems for YEARS. Meaning that ZERO republican influence makes their laws. HELL, California I believe tried to remove their own discrimination laws so that companies in the state COULD IN FACT discriminate in hiring practices.

It's time you start looking past the names of things, and start look at intent. You start looking at effects. You start looking at the results of. Get your heads out of the sand, and stop being ignorant. Your pursuit of "doing good" "being inclusive" "spreading diversity" yeah all of that is normally damaged more and more every day by people like you because the Dems and Reps (at least 90% of them) don't give a shit about you and only make you believe that they do.

[rubykgrant]

(I'm still re-writing and editing the whole chapter, but I liked how this part turned out; a conversation between Jon and Martin while they're hiding out in Scotland, about love and their lives~)

If Martin didn’t know any better, he’d think they were just two regular people, out on a regular date.

“We could have been doing this for years. Just sitting together. Enjoying each other,” Jon murmurs, head resting on Martin’s chest.

“I would have liked that,” Martin says. He imagines himself and Jon before, how they were both awkward in different ways, how they each may have tried to help the other move past it, how it could have felt the first time Jon held him close, or how it could have felt when he realized he felt safe with Jon. Wanting to keep somebody, and also wanting to be kept, not being afraid to let it happen.

“We also could have had ANY other job…” Jon continues.

“One that, perhaps, wasn’t so hazardous to our health?” Martin finishes.

“Mmm, yes. Did you know- I nearly dropped out of university?”

“What, NO? Really? You?” Martin tries to picture Jon quitting, just leaving something behind, even something that was just causing him distress, and he can’t. Jon was more likely to “sunk-cost fallacy” himself to death.

“I was… struggling with a few classes, near the end. That wasn’t why I almost left, though. The university wanted me to see a counselor, just so I could have, as they put it, a ‘mental health refresher’. I, er- got a touch offended. And I decided for myself, I would either double-down and pass everything with top-grades, OR drop out. Because surely that would teach everybody a lesson,” Jon sighs, as if frustrated with his previous thought process. “If I had actually left, I probably wouldn’t have gone to work for the Magnus Institute. Who knows if we would have even met…”

“Wait, third option. What if you actually went for that mental health refresher?” Martin asks, and his voice quivers with a sudden attack of giggles. “B-because, Jon, I- I almost applied for a job as a receptionist at a counselor’s office!”

“Are you serious?” Jon is laughing a bit now, too.

“Yes! I wouldn’t have needed to lie on the CV or anything, either. The only reason I didn’t go for it- the job didn’t pay quite enough to afford everything I needed at the time,”

“So you’re telling me, we could have had an entirely DIFFERENT awkward encounter? With a whole other conflict of an inappropriate work relationship? Oh, if only, in another life…” Jon says in an overly dramatic, wistful tone.

“Hey, why would it be awkward? Or inappropriate?”

“Because, I would have walked into that office all- all pissed-off about everything, feeling insulted that anybody would even suggest I wasn’t absolutely FINE. If you thought I was insufferable before, you should have seen me while I was at university, especially near the end. I can promise you- charming I was NOT. I also couldn’t stop picking at the spots on my face,” Jon grimaces, thinking about himself.

“Fine, you were horrible. But so am I… if we did date back then, I would have been one of those people who always wants to get your acne spots for you. Now, what about the inappropriate part?”

“Well, maybe not entirely inappropriate, but… I’m sure it is at least frowned upon for employees of a counselor’s office to date the patients,” Jon isn’t sure what the rules would be (he’s certain the actual counselors can’t be involved with people they see professionally). “And even if that job would be less stressful for you, would you want to risk it for an awful little shit with a bad attitude?”

“Hmm, fair. Maybe I’d wait and see if the mental health refresher actually WORKED, and once you you stopped being a patient, I’d give you my number…”

“Making the first move, in this scenario?” Jon’s voice implies an attempt at sarcasm, but his face looks much more eager and intrigued.

“You’d be surprised how confident I am when I don’t have to worry about creepy-crawlies trying to eat me, or lying about my age and work experience on a daily basis!” Martin chuckles, and his laughter makes Jon bounce against him.

“Wouldn’t that have been a dream. I get a mental health refresher, you have a pleasant job as a receptionist, we go on a few fun dates, and start a happy relationship together, and you can indulge your pimple-popping fetish-”

“It is NOT a fetish!” Martin’s hug tightens around Jon, trying to squeeze the air out of him. For a moment, Martin sternly refuses to look at Jon, instead staring straight ahead (if he sees Jon’s face right now, he might laugh himself off the bench).

“Do you want me to stop washing my face?” Jon wheezes out.

“You’re the one who made a whole kink-list!” Martin reminds him. “And did I add anything like that? No, no I didn’t!”

“Darling… don’t be afraid… to be yourself… I’ll accept you…” Jon is gasping now, but it is less from Martin’s powerful hug, and more from his own laughter.

“I HATE you,” Martin informs him.

“I think we’ve come to the conclusion… that you actually LOVE me…” Jon snorts, like that was so clever or something, and that breaks Martin’s concentration. The attempt to hug Jon into silence ends, all the muscles in Martin’s arms loosen, and Jon melts into him as they both give in to the giggles that have been building.

Jon forces himself to take a big, deep breath, and once his chest stops hitching, he tilts his head up to give Martin a kiss. Around them, people pass, not even noticing, but anybody who had been thinking about sitting at that bench feels like they’d rather find a different spot. Jon and Martin aren’t unseen phantoms, repelling people from their space. Nothing as alarming as that; they’re just uninteresting shapes, on a bench that isn’t very appealing, for no special reason.

This allows them plenty of time to linger, and kiss lasts as long as they want.

In the back of his mind, Jon has decided that no matter what kind of life they could have had, if he still met Martin somehow, falling in love would just be an eventuality. How could he resist any version of Martin? How did he resist THIS version of Martin for so long? Jon is so deeply in love, it is hard to even remember NOT feeling this way. Despite his protests, mostly in reference to himself having such a bad habit of being a wanker, Jon is secretly a hopeless romantic. He’d die, over and over again, for Martin’s sake.

Martin, on the other hand, has different thoughts he’s keeping to himself. Them having a chance to be free of the Magnus Institute and still be drawn together is very nice… but even though he argued in favor of dating the “un-charming” Jon in another reality, Martin doubts it could actually happen that way. Maybe he’s being realistic, maybe he’s actually just a pessimist underneath all his optimistic layers. However, the fact that he actually HAS this with Jon now, against the odds and through all the crushing pain they’ve suffered, makes Martin treasure it even more. His rotten luck wouldn’t give him another chance like this. He’d fight for it, he’d break for it.

They don’t share these thoughts, so they never know how different yet similar they really are. Instead, Jon kisses the man he’ll always love, and Martin kisses the Jon he has, and both are happy enough to know that much.

When they begin their walk back, Jon comfortably links his arm with Martin’s again, sort of leading the way this time. Still a guard-cat, still protective and alert, but considerably more calm. Martin is pleased with himself indeed; he’s the center of Jon’s concerns, but that doesn’t need to be something strained or stressful. It can also be fulfilling.

[bagog]

Star Trek: Discovery Narrative Highlights

So I really like Discovery, but differently than I like other Star Treks. My love for Voyager, for instance, is based off the sense of found-family in the face of sci-fi shenanigans. I could pick out favorite episodes, but my favorite episodes don't necessarily represent the epitome of what I love about the show, y'know?

It's different with Disco. There are concrete moments from through out the show that made me go "Okay, I like this, I want this. More of this." Here's some of them! This is indulgent and all from memory

Season 1 - Klingons Speak Klingon

In a story about Klingons fearing the Federation as an institution which will irrevocably alter their culture, the Klingons actually speak Klingon. Love it. Season 1 - Gabriel Lorca

I loved seeing a Star Fleet captain who seemed to have ascended because of his skill at war: a trait which ordinarily would not elevate one within Starfleet service, per se. It made him interesting. Your mileage may vary on where this went, but. He's still a big appeal on rewatch.

Season 2 - Queer People Helping Queer People

The introduction of Jet Reno is one of my favorite hallmarks in the show. I love Jet, and I love the way she serves as a foil to every other character. But best of all, I loved the scene when she is talking to Hugh Culber about how distant he's been from his husband (since coming back from the dead, so, you know) and helps him by relating her own story about her wife, who is now passed. To say I'm happy to see queer stories on Star Trek is a massive understatement, but this was the moment it locked in for me. In the world of the Federation, there's no difference between being queer or straight and anyone could've talked Hugh out of his funk. But in our world, it's usually queer people helping queer people make sense of their experiences. Recognizing the importance of that distinction and going with the queers-helping-queers take is a really big deal for me.

Season 2 - Amanda

This is hands-down the best representation of Amanda we've ever been given and she is so wonderfully human and warm that it helps you understand Spock and Michael so much better. I don't know what to say other than that, I love her.

Season 3 - The Future

I love that they went not just into the future, but further into the future than any mainline trek lore has gone. Hell yes. I'm bummed it's kinda a post-Utopian mess, but I get storywise why that's the case. I love the future starships, I love the future technology, I like that we just "BZP" to wherever we want to be in the ship now. In a show increasingly steeped in centuries of canon lore, it's smart and challenging to try to do "a millennium in the future."

Season 3 - Queer Family

Queer Family! Queer Family in Star Trek! This is my queers-helping-queers point but dialed up to 11. Love it, would do anything for it.

Season 4 - Artificial Intelligence

The ship is alive and she's named herself. This comes to a head in an episode in Season 4 where Paul Stamets feels very hesitant about this, after the plot of Season 2 was trying to stop AI from destroying the galaxy. There's this whole Measure of a Man but Not Quite Because Its the B Story thing going on, but at the end of it, there's a twist. Paul eventually learns to accept his new crewmate, but then he asks the person in-charge of the inquest "What would you have done if I said I wasn't comfortable serving with an AI?" and the dude goes "I would've assigned you to another ship. This was never about whether she has a soul or whatever, it's about if you can learn to accept that with you 22nd century brain." And that's.... that's great.

Season 4 - Mental Health

Mental Health is a thread running through some of Discovery (Season 2 flirts with Spock's neurodivergence, for instance) but never more than in Season 4. Hugh Culber, the ship's ray of sunshine and de facto counselor, is in bad shape, mentally, and he needs help. But the best moment is when the away-team is beset by chemical memories of panic and basically rendered useless with fear... except for Detmer, who helps them all get through it. When asked why she was unaffected, she says "Oh I totally was affected, but after my grievous injury during the war, I went to therapy for the PTSD and learned some coping strategies" AND THAT'S WHAT SAVES THE GALAXY.

Anyway, this is very indulgent and probably nobody reads this, but thanks if you did.